#I've waited this long... but also... time is an illusion

[hearnoweevil]

Last year I finally had an excuse to illustrate a couple little Tumblr stories for class. This one's by @appropriate-as-always

Original post under the cut

[emmemmelyn]

How to shift realities right now using the law of assumption

This is a guide that I put together myself using all of the knowledge and wisdom that I've accumulated over the past three years of studying the law of assumption including my experiences using the law with reality shifting!

Going Back to the Basics

What is the law of assumption?

The law of assumption is what you believe is true is what you will see and experience in your reality.

We are creators who are meant to create. Where creation starts is from imagination/the 4D. And what is from imagination/the 4D gets reflected out into the physical/the 3D. In other words, what you see and experience is a reflection of what goes on in your mind (the thoughts that you have and continue to think, the beliefs that you have that you took in from the people who you were surrounded by when you were a child, and the assumptions you formed in your own mind).

For example you believe that you have to work hard to be successful. Because you believe this what you continue to see and experience is you being successful only after working hard.

Another example is you believe that something that you own is a lucky charm and makes you lucky when you carry it around. Because you believe this you see and experience that you are lucky whenever you carry that item around.

How do you manifest using the law of assumption?

Actually, you are always manifesting using the law of assumption. You are just unconsciously doing it. To consciously manifest using the law of assumption you change what goes on in imagination/the 4D by being the person who has what they want already in your mind by knowing what you want, knowing that you have it in your mind, and receiving it in the physical/the 3D.

How do you manifest shifting to your desired reality using the law of assumption?

Let's apply the three steps that I mentioned above to shifting realities specifically...

Step One: Know what you want.

This would be wanting to shift to your desired reality.

Step Two: Know that you have it.

Know that you have shifted to your desired reality already in your mind and be like how you would be long after you have shifted to your desired reality. How would you think long after you have shifted to your desired reality? When you think about your desired reality and living in it how fulfilled would you be?

If you like using manifestation techniques and believe that it helps you then do ONE of these things to "know that you have it":

Go through your day and night affirming and/or visualizing that you have shifted to your desired reality already and you are in your current reality right now because you choose to be.

Go through your day and night affirming and/or visualizing that you have shifted to your desired reality and you are living in your desired reality right now in your mind. (For example, if you are shifting to Hogwarts then while getting ready in the morning in your current reality you would think to yourself, "I can't wait to meet Luna later to go shopping at that crystal shop she was talking about.")

Remember, you are doing all of this IN YOUR MIND.

Step Three: Receive it in the physical/the 3D.

You experience shifting to your desired reality and living in it in real life.

When you stay in the state of already having shifted to your desired reality without having doubts and without wavering long enough then you will experience shifting to your desired reality and living in it in real life (wavering by the way is going back and forth in your mind thinking, "I have this," and then thinking, "I don't have this.").

That's it!

From the moment you want something you have it. From the moment you wanted to shift to your desired reality you shifted to your desired reality. Manifestation is instant. You can manifest things fast. Having this belief that you cannot is only because of conditioning, because of what you believed when you were a child from the people around you and from society. Also, time is an illusion. This is because you manifest your desire the moment you get into the state, the moment you believe that what you are telling yourself is true.

Furthermore, manifesting is easy and natural. You don't have to know how things will manifest in the physical/the 3D. That is not your job. Your job is to know that you have what you want now. Know what you want and go through with it in your mind long enough until it manifests in the physical/the 3D.

Other Things to Note

I know that most of us like to use shifting methods (myself included lol), so this portion is for those of you who do! You DO NOT need to use a shifting method to shift to your desired reality, but if you believe that using a shifting method will help you to shift you to your desired reality then do this...

When the time comes to use your shifting method believe that you will shift to your desired reality after using your shifting method.

If you see in the physical/the 3D that you don't shift to your desired reality after using your shifting method..that's okay. Don't be so hard on yourself. Keep acting as if.

Affirm and/or imagine that you have shifted to your desired reality:

"I shifted to my desired reality."

"I woke up in my desired reality."

"I opened my eyes in my desired reality."

Then, go to sleep knowing this or go on with the rest of your day or night continuing to know that you have shifted to your desired reality already in your mind.

Your subconscious mind cannot tell the difference between what is real and what is not real so as long as you keep telling yourself the same affirmations (affirmations are just new thoughts that you want to have) then your subconscious mind will eventually take it as true and they will be your new assumptions or beliefs. And because your assumptions or beliefs create the physical/the 3D you will eventually experience shifting to your desired reality.

I hope this helped any shifter out there in some way!

With love, Emme

[ay0nha]

Please Forgive Me | Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

SUMMARY: You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. You were both slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

Where you and Robby explore the first steps towards Ho'oponopono.

PAIRING: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!attending!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

WARNINGS: Canon-typical things, blood, death, smoking, Myrna, ANGSt-heavy, the "Kraken" mentions (mental health is no joke, I have opinions), seizure mentions (also no joke, although used humorously), plot driven by movie magic, reader getting physically hurt, flashbacks, arguments, fluff if you squint, word vomit, therapy session w/Kiara, mentions of terminal cancer, incarcerated patient, razor blades, glass, (let me know if I missed anything, I've been staring at this too long), etc.

Inspired by @skulandcrossbones's post, @xxdrixx's post, and @sunkissedburns' post. Also inspired by Joan Didion, that one Grey's episode, and other things I can't remember, so remind me if I missed things. CREDIT GOES WHERE IT IS DUE.

A/N: So I REWROTE this part because it was just Not It for me tbh. It didn't hold the angst/vibes I wanted it to, so please forgive me (*wink*) if this is confusing or jumbled, I just felt like this fit better for what I'm trying to do. Comments are HEAVILY encouraged; they truly keep me going and motivated to write. Many thanks to @hummusforthewin, @est1887, and @sunfairyy for helping me out! Enjoy.

prologue

“They all say ‘Life doesn’t work that way,’ ‘Live with the consequences and learn,’ ‘No one can cheat the system,’ but I did.” You paused, letting the admission be a placeholder. “Why would I regret that? They want to humanize everything; they just see wanting to die as a crime.”

Kiara always started with a baseline. It helped ease you into conversations you avoided. Yet, today the air was different. You came in with vexation. You kept storing up all that anger. You hoped for it to spill over. Otherwise, you’d drown in it. 

“And you don’t?” Kiara prompted. She was subtle with her interjections, learning your habit to retreat when prodded. 

You’d already mourned what could have been, what would not be, what you couldn't save. It was a daily practice. But this, what got you here, this was different. This didn’t come with the same leverage of sadness and authenticity; this felt radical even for you.  

“I’ve seen so much life and death that it’s become one and the same.” You continued. “I’m not trying to be clever, here…I just—” Another pause before you decidedly gave up. “—don’t get it.” 

Kiara hummed. She balanced her opinions well. She never pressed you too far, but you could tell that with your little progress, she needed to be more critical. 

“How poetic.” Kiara rested her hands on her lap. It was picture professional, minus the smirk settled on her face. “Yet another doctor who thinks they can control life—death. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”  

“Administration doesn’t see it that way.” You welcomed being brought down from a pedestal. It was the last thing any doctor’s ego needed.  “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Who doesn’t?” She challenged, eyebrow perked. “You gave Gloria more paperwork, but more than that,  she doesn’t have the time—or energy to evaluate your morals, frankly.” 

“Dana—

“Please,” Kiara laughed. 

You frowned. 

There was no point in arguing; you’d fallen for the bait you’d spent weeks avoiding. Kiara saw it firsthand, eyes always finding yours when you were both on the floor of the ED. It was easy to brush off, blaming time and urgency. 

Now, you were just stuck, trapped. Your eyes fled to the clock, its slowness insulting you. 

“Everyone’s eyes are always on me, waiting for me to crack with regret, with…guilt…” You held in the bitter laugh, knowing the reaction would be scribbled down. Your humor wasn’t always appreciated. “...but—nothing. I know what I did and I didn’t hesitate.”

As the topic shifted, the spacious room felt like it was suddenly collapsing in on you. You kept your breathing even. You learned young that nobody touched you when you looked sharp, but Kiara’s gaze could see through whatever facade you felt the need to put up. 

“If Robby is who you’re referring to…” She eyed you as she pressed further. 

“Robby?” You scoffed, echoing Kiara’s humor. “Please.”

“Your anger seems pointed.”  Kiara was specific with her words, adjusting in her seat. 

The office felt awfully small.

Robby stood far away from you, leaning against the opposing wall stiffly with hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess, a clear indication of the utter frustration he was in. 

Despite the distance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. He was absolutely livid.

Deservedly so. You should have listened to him and stayed out of it, but you didn’t—couldn’t. Now you had to simply stand and take whatever he was about to throw at you.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, preparing for a half-hearted apology. “I’m so—”

“You—” He straightened himself, finger pointed out in accusation, “—had one job. I asked you to stay out of it— no, I ordered you to stay out of it. And what the hell do you do? The absolute fucking opposite. The actual fuck were you doing?”

Robby’s eyes narrowed deeper, the sharpness of the glare hitting you right in the chest. You flinch. “What makes you think you can ignore the rules? Have you forgotten that I’m your attending? I—”

“Do not pull rank with me.” You snapped. So much for just standing there and taking it. “You know damn well I am just as competent as you are.”

“Competent doesn’t mean that you’re—” Robby paused, taking in a tight breath. His voice stayed level, a refusal to let his anger get the best of him. “You were reckless. Out of line. I have to pull rank if you choose to act like one of the students.  What is not clear here?”

 You can’t help the bitter laugh that burst from your lips. You had a meanness inside you, real as an organ. With a slit down your belly, it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor just so you could stomp on it. 

“You can pretend to be Adamson all you want, but this morning, you froze.” Low blow. But the ripple of emotion in Robby’s face was satisfying.“ So, sure, I’m fucking sorry for taking things into my own hands when you couldn’t.”

“This was not your patient, and you are too stubborn to understand that. Now she’s dead.” Robby kept going, “Gloria is expecting you this afternoon. You will listen to her if you want to stay here. Don’t fuck up again.”

You tried opening your mouth, but nothing came out; your face was too hot, too hurt, too full of rage. 

“I’m not angry.” A lie.

“What’s your diagnosis then?” Kiara was kind, her tone carrying her warmth. 

Just like most people in the ED, you struggled to show your appreciation for Kiara. She was always present and shared everyone’s bad days. She braved the follow-through once the doctors walked away after the patient stabilized. She not only took on the burdens of the patients, but also the doctors. 

The guilt made you prickle. 

“She was going to die anyway. By my hand or theirs.” You put it starkly. “I just made her fate more bearable…she deserved the dignity…” 

You had never addressed what you had done so directly. It always lingered as something you both just knew. Everyone knew. It was memorable. You sat in the quietness, letting your words sink in, remembering the day the Earth stood still. 

“...what I did was wrong. I was willing to lose my license—prepared even.” Your arms crossed across your chest protectively, your voice becoming hushed. “But Robby—Robby told me I was playing God..…can you believe that?”

The words came to you so suddenly, it felt like you’d lost your breath. They wrapped around you like a boa. You heard them when you slept, and they loitered until you rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes. It had never cracked down on you like this.

“And now, this—” You gestured around you. “It’s a Sisyphean act, never-ending, useless—whatever you want to call the write-up, the babysitting, the obligation, the—t-the…”

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Robby’s words mocked you. 

“You can convince anyone that I meant well. Robby, though? You’d die trying.” You jeered. “He expects me to be grateful for keeping me here. Prick.”

Kiara was proud; you could see it in the soft look she gave you. The foundation was finally laid bare to explore. 

Yet, you recoiled at your vulnerability. At your harshness. It shocked you, how gentle a tug it took to unravel everything that you built up. Truthfully, you were petrified. The core issue had been exposed, and you felt like a child throwing a tantrum. 

However, it took many years of vomiting up all the filth you’d been taught about yourself, and half believed, before you were able to walk on the earth as though you had a right to be there. You’d be damned to forget that because of him.

—

The ED was slow. 

No one acknowledged it; everyone was too superstitious to. 

The quiet no longer felt like rest. The weather consisted of sleet that kept everyone off the streets. All that could be done was to wait idly for those who were brave enough to come in and those who had no choice but to succumb to the danger of it all. 

The snow fueled your smoke break; it was a subconscious way to find warmth and stave off the anxiety that lingered from your morning with Kiara. Neither was remedied. Instead, your fingers were stiff from the temperature, and there was no relief from how the pit in your stomach grew. 

“I could fake a seizure.” 

“Too ‘boy who cried wolf’…” You shook your head. The strike of your lighter was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of your newly-lit cigarette, you said, “It has to be a…casual—believable lie.”

“All this for what? Feelings?” Myrna gestured at the air with mocking disgust. “I know a thing or two about a crime of passion.”

“Robby’s allergic.” Something swirled in your chest, but you brought the cigarette to your lips to suffocate it. 

“Oh, honey, I knew you were stupid, but not that stupid.” Myrna cracked with humor. Her insults made you feel electric. Normal. They humbled every egotistical vein in your body. “Robby looks at you with nothing but feelin’.”

“That ‘look’ is….” Disgust? Resentment? Loathing? “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’d bend him over my knee for what he did to you.” Myrna carried on with her opinions, humoring herself as she continued. “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

Your eyes sparkled with the image. You’d pay good money to see Robby’s face painted with discomfort. His self-control irked you, got under your skin without even trying. It used to drive a competitive friction between you both, one that was light, teasing, even. But it festered to the point it controlled you; you relied on proving a point. 

“Breach of duty, my ass.” She barked. “So you were a drug dealer, so what! I know plenty. God forbid you did something about healthcare in this country.”

“Myrna,” You warned. You wish you were just a ‘drug dealer.’ Instead, you became the judge, jury, and executioner.  “When are you going to stop bringing it up?”

“When you do something better.”  

“It’s temporary, anyways.” You said more to remind yourself. It hadn’t quite stuck as a mantra, but it was enough to get you through a shift. “Family emergency? No—Robby would call my sister and that’s—

“Find an obituary.” Myrna shrugged. “You’ve got four grandparents to choose from.”

“Can’t.” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought caused your lips to tingle with indifference. Deep down, you knew nothing would change.  “Used that one not too long ago, Robby’d sniff that out…”

“You asked me how to get him off your back: seizure.” Myrna snapped playfully, not letting your eyes glaze over for too long. “Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can start foaming at the mouth.” 

“He’s already onto us.” You didn't have it in you anymore to struggle and fight and suffer; you wanted to enjoy the quiet when you could find it. You smiled. “‘Fruitcake,’ though—that always gets me through the day.”

“Happy to oblige.”  She snorted. “Now, if you really need him gone—I can make it look like an accident.” 

A laugh bubbled through your chest. “I’ll remember that for when I really need it.”

“Listen, girlie…” Myrna gave you the least offensive nickname in the ED. It was why you passed the dwindling cigarette to her; you always played favorites. “...whatever you do, don’t bet on a losing dog.”

You hummed in response. You didn’t need to look too deeply into her words, but you knew they’d ring true when things got too quiet, when you’d want to avoid them the most. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, and lemme tell you: not worth it.” She smothered the roach on her wheelchair, flicking the remains to melt into the snow. “Sad eyes comin’ in, twelve o’clock.” 

The hospital door popped the bubble created. The interruption was overdue. 

“Everything alright out here?” Robby’s voice was traced by the cold air, cautious enough not the call too much attention but aware enough to know you weren’t.  

“Just gettin’ some air.” Your sigh was heavy. Your day was not ruined. Your world was not over. Take a deep breath. It’s just temporary. 

“Patients shouldn’t be out here.” Robby's lips pressed together. You knew he wasn’t surprised, but entirely unimpressed. 

“I don’t clock in for another…” You looked at your watch. “...eight minutes. Not my circus, not my patient.” 

“Myrna.” He greeted her. Robby ignored you, nodding to the nurse who followed him out. “Please make sure someone keeps an eye on her.” 

Before being rolled past him, Myrna winked at you. “Fruitcake.”

Robby stayed quiet, head dipping with feigned politeness. 

You looked ahead, avoiding his eyes. It gave a moment for Robby to imagine the way your fingers deftly played with your lighter. The way your side profile was traced as you exhaled the smoke. The smell lingered, and his finger twitched with desire. 

From your peripheral vision, you watched Robby rock on his heels, wanting to say something. You didn’t smoke often, so he knew nerves formed the habit. His attentiveness made you nauseous. 

“Need something, doctor?” You snapped first. 

“Nicotine lowers the seizure threshold...” He hummed. You focused on Robby carefully, watching how his disappointment fed through his body language. “...but there’s no way Myrna can smoke with those handcuffs, right?” 

“Right.” Your tone was always tight around him. Sterile. “I’ll meet you inside.”

You meant to be firm. To give Robby no option other than to leave you to the cold. However, the more you spoke, the more he lingered. 

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” His hands were deep in his pockets, as if talking about himself. “Coffee’s fresh in the lounge.”

“I’ve got a few more minutes until the frostbite kicks in.” You clicked your teeth with sarcastic resistance. 

Robby left, his attempt futile. He only got a few strides away before bursting. 

“You’ve got to stop—” Robby rubbed his palms to his eyes. “Besides it being extremely unprofessional, you’re doing my head in. You fucked up. Accept it.” 

Your eyes widened. It was early for him to be fed up with you. It usually hit after the day’s first coding, or if Gloria hit below the belt. This was new. Anger rarely settled so explicitly in Robby’s voice. 

You were always quick to retaliate. “You think I enjoy this?” 

“I’m starting to think you do, yeah,” Robby egged you on. He’d come to his boiling point. “We save lives, we work with the circumstances given to us. We strategize. We treat. We cope—

“She swallowed razor blades—” You bit. Prepared.  “—then, a lightbulb, Robby! How’s that for coping, huh?”

“She wanted a break from solitary, do you know how many incarcerated—

“She did what she did because she had to.” 

“That is not for you to decide.” Robby provoked in a low voice. Hissed. “And neither was her death.”

“She was metastatic! What difference would it have made?” Your words were weak with exasperation. Yet again, a repeated conversation. “What I did was safe and comfortable. No one deserves to go through that in prison—”

“She would have received another round of radiation—”

“She was non-responsive to chemo for years.” You laid the well-known facts bare. The patient wouldn’t have made it to the end of the month. It was a surprise that the ED was able to bring her back. “Besides, you know prisons are the first place the shortages affect.”

Robby spoke to you distinctly. Professionally. He didn’t delve into morals or politics, but standards of care, something he was usually willing to be flexible on. He was the first to put himself on the line or take the hit for perilous risks. Yet, now he suddenly remembered standard treatment: evaluations that measure the quality and adherence to established medical protocols or best practices. 

“We did what we were supposed to do.” Those textbook methods always forgot how much empathy could treat. “You went rogue.” 

“This is more than that—”  The air stilled. This was new. Things haunted. Things existed long after they’d been smothered. “—and you know it.”

You remained leaning against the brick building. It’s frigidness bled through your thin scrubs. Yet, you could feel the warmth, the frustration, in Robby’s movement towards you.  

“What are you saying?” The lines of worry between his eyebrows deepened, and hands hands pulled at the ends of his stethoscope to stop fidgeting.  Yet, they couldn’t decide to settle with irritation or confusion.  

“I doubt you would’ve batted an eye for Abbott, Langdon—Jesus—even Whitaker.” You finally confessed the truth, your anger. “They’d get a slap on the wrist. Yet, I’m not allowed to be anything but perfect; you second-guess my every breath, Robby.”

You’d noticed it before, a pattern when Robby was sinking. The days were hard, the hours unrelenting. The times that were harder than others, his inclinations, conscious or not, took control. Robby moved on instinct, but it always revealed how he saw you. 

Now, he understood. You accepted your so-called punishment. You just expected more from him. Disappointment was never a welcome feeling, and it struck Robby sharply, painfully. He didn’t move fast enough to apologize, so you did. 

You pushed off the wall, the eight minutes up. “Forgive me that losing this patient only proved my point.” 

—

Mr. Krakozhia woke up. 

The sedation wasn’t monitored. The fault didn’t fall on anyone when the ED had resources spread thin; no available beds, never enough nurses, and emergencies that required split attention. 

No one volunteered to restrain the ‘Kraken.’ Robby declined Dana’s request for assistance, merely providing a verbal order for sedation. Nurses, inexperienced learners, and you were left to haphazardly fill the gaps. All your strength combined, you still received a boot to the mouth. 

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. You tongueed at the teeth that’s nerves felt stunned. All twenty-eight were accounted for, but blood spilled from your tongue and lip. 

“Oh, he got you—you alright, kid?” Dana laughed sympathetically, pulling you up from where you’d been knocked back. “I’ll keep ‘em off your back for a little. Take a break. You know the drill: direct pressure, cold compress.” 

You had a love-hate relationship with hospitals. You thought they were always too bright with a bleak atmosphere. There were phones constantly ringing, monitors always beeping, people coughing all of the air out of themselves; everything was too overwhelming to the senses.

So, your attempt to decompress, to stop your lip from throbbing against your heartbeat, was always found in the stairwell. They were rarely used and acted as a sound barrier to the city’s whelm. 

You sighed heavily, letting your head drop. 

The tears that fell from your cheeks left dark bruises on your scrubs. Quiet, like they always do. You wiped at your eyes; your tears felt like a burden. But they wouldn’t stop until they ran out. Then, you were still and silent. Because if you opened your mouth, you were afraid you'd never stop screaming.

“Hey—” 

You hadn’t heard the door creak. Or felt the hand that rested on your shoulder. It was the first time in a long time you didn’t flinch. The words I’m fine died before you could breathe them out. Instead, Robby met you at your level, sitting on the stairs next to you. 

“Let’s take a look.” Robby’s gloves were pulled on with dexterity. Your bloodshot eyes were wide, reading worry on his expression. Robby assessed you softly. Even softer when you winced.  “Tender?” 

“Dana told you where to find me?” You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your posture softening into something a little more tired.

“She could only hold me off for so long.” He pulled his gloves off, hands retreating tentatively. “Feeling dizzy, headache…did you hit your head?”

“No LOC, EOM intact, just a busted lip.” 

Your pupils were wide with stress, but they were equal and reactive. You knew Robby wouldn’t press further, but he was reading into every twitch and movement just in case he missed something crucial. But he knew not to misread your calmness, healthcare assault, accidental, incidental, or not, happened. 

For the past few shifts, you didn’t need to avoid Robby. He gave you space, still processing your last interaction. You wouldn’t admit it, as if felt hypocritical, but it was strange not having him close. Even his eyes had stopped tracking you, and it felt like something was wrong. 

It felt like your fault that one day you both woke up, no longer speaking the same language. You hadn’t heard from him since. You couldn’t translate how badly Robby wanted to tell you he knew you didn’t need to be saved, protected. That you needed to be found and appreciated. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Robby started, but you heard an undercurrent of hesitation. Nothing haunted him more than the things he didn’t say. “About what you said…”

You’d been thinking too. 

You knew he’d been trying to catch you for days. Weeks. But his irritability got in the way. Impatience for Gloria got in the way. He had trouble sleeping, and when he was awake, he was vigilant. Then, when you didn’t see him, you knew he carried his sadness to the roof.  

“Let’s not—not now, at least.” Your plea was soft. You cleared your throat, as if telling the tears that pricked your waterline to stop. 

“Okay.” Robby swallowed everything with that tight-lipped, polite smile and nod. That smile that he wore—it didn’t shine. Soft and a little sorry. It settled over guilt.

You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. Both Robby and you were slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

You were both stalling, not used to being so close for so long. You both desired one last deep breath, but the air was running out. You both didn’t know how to exist so softly. 

You heard a new tone when people asked how you were, a tone you had not noticed before and found increasingly distressing, even humiliating: these people seemed impatient, half-concerned, half querulous, as if no longer interested in the answer. As if all too aware that the answer will always be a complaint. 

You’d been trained to speak, if asked how you were, only positively. That was healthcare; you were not allowed to not be OK. You framed the cheerful responses. What you believed to be the cheerful response, as you framed it, emerged, as others hear it, more like a whine. 

Do not whine. Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone, you told yourself. 

You listened. 

You did not whine when hunger sawed your body in half. You did not complain when, after you worked for hours, trying to get the sound of a sentence right. You bled politely all over Pittsburgh. 

However, the cold was catching up to you. So was the exhaustion. It weakened your senses and put your emotions at the forefront. You wanted to be held, to be cared for in ways you couldn’t provide alone. Robby was familiar with the feeling, but was better at hiding the ache. 

Now, Robby could handle your anger. Anger was good. Anger meant that there was something he could react to, challenge. But your self-restraint dwindled. The smallest gesture of affection brought a lump to your throat, whether it was directed to you or at someone else.

So, Robby stood, hand reaching for yours. He had the awkward tenderness of someone who had never been loved and was forced to improvise. 

“Ready?” For the chaos.

He pulled you gently, eyes still roaming you for discontent. It felt good, as if one thing were normal. The rest of the shift, you knew he’d be back to lingering, back to playful chiding that would burn your skin, and watching you so closely for any pain he could relieve. 

It wasn’t a long-term solution, but this shift’s abatement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You sniffed through your words, clearing any emotions that loitered. “I want a good case after that beating.” 

Once you stood, Robby was going to release you from what he suspected was torture. Yet, your grip tightened, palm to palm. You clung to his hand so that something human could exist in the chaos. Hand in unlovable hand, you stay attached until the buzzing took over at the nurse’s station. 

Robby understood why people held hands: He'd always thought it was about possessiveness, saying, "This is mine." But you had revealed to him that it was about maintaining contact, speaking without words, and saying, regardless of everything, "I want you with me, and don't go."

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Fault Lines Ch. 1

request: wanted to know if you could write something where the reader is a ex-winter solider (just like bucky, but maybe she doesn't lose her arm) and how she struggles to accept Joaquin. An overall angst to fluff.

pairing: joaquin torres x ex-super soldier!f!reader

contents: canon typical violence, blood mention, illusions to abuse and torture, ptsd and other mental illness, enemies to lovers, angst

wc: 1,479

an: this series is based off of this request here! this series has truly poured out of me and is nearly done, and with all the other bits i've been writing, i'm probably just going to post it as quickly as i can as not to lose steam. i hope yall like it, i'm a little nervous as i've avoided writing this time of character before in fear i wouldn't do her justice. pls be kind!

fault lines masterlist

Someone has been ahead of Sam and Joaquin at every turn. Once might’ve been luck. Twice was suspicious. Three times? That meant someone else was hunting Hydra too—and winning.

And while Sam, Joaquin, and everybody at S.H.I.E.L.D wanted Hydra wiped out, they also wanted to know who was doing it and why.

They don’t know where this person is getting their intel. A mole, a hacked database, or maybe just a particularly desperate, sloppy faction of Hydra. Either way, it’s getting frustrating—because every time Sam and Joaquin show up, ready to extract information, all they find are bodies cooling in pools of blood.

Not today. Today’s a setup.

There’s snow on the ground, crunching beneath their boots as they grow closer to the rendezvous point. It’s still falling, freckling their dark clothing as they slip between the trees, far enough from each other to not garner attention but close enough in case things go awry. 

“Whoever this is, they’re dangerous,” Sam mutters, voice low in Joaquin’s earpiece. He scans the abandoned Hydra hideout from the cover of a half-collapsed outhouse, gunpowder and metal still thick in the air. “They’re calculated. They know what they’re doing.”

“So do we,” Joaquin counters, shifting his weight as he waits for the signal to continue moving through the treess.

“Yeah, but listen. As far as we know, it’s one person. And they’ve taken down whole squads of Hydra. No stray casualties. No blood spilled but the ones they were after. Who do you know that can do that?”

“If you let me upgrade the suit—”

“I’m serious, Joaquin,” Sam cuts in, sharp. No room for their usual back-and-forth. “Whoever this is doesn’t just have tech. They have something else. It’s inhuman.”

Joaquin swallows hard, the words settling in his chest like a weight. Sam’s instincts are good. If he thinks something’s off, it is.

The plan is simple: lay low, watch the meeting point where Hydra’s last known contacts are supposed to regroup, and wait for their mystery hunter to show up. If things go south, they intervene.

Joaquin already has a feeling this won’t be clean. Minutes pass. The winter wind howls through the wreckage, biting at their cheeks and rattling loose metal. 

It’s subtle. A shadow flickers at the edge of his vision.

Joaquin goes still with focus, eyes locking onto your figure as you slip through the ruins with silent precision. Even with the snow on the ground you don’t make a sound, its almost as if you’re floating. You move like a ghost—controlled, effortless. A hood hides your face, but everything else—your stance, the sharpness of your movements—radiates readiness. Like you’re expecting a fight.

He sees your shoulders rise and fall and then, you strike.

Hydra operatives barely have time to react before they’re taken down with brutal efficiency. A knife flashes once, twice—only when necessary. The rest fall under precise, bone-breaking force. No wasted movement. No hesitation. It’s methodical. Programmed into muscle memory long ago.

Joaquin feels his stomach turn, not even the cold air can keep his head clear. He’s seen this before. This kind of combat. The precision, the control. The lack of wasted effort.

“Sam,” he whispers, tension winding tight in his spine. “This isn’t just some ex-agent cleaning up loose ends.”

“I know,” Sam says grimly. “I’ve seen that kind of fighting before.”

The last Hydra operative collapses with a wet groan. Blood pools at your feet, staining the snow but it doesn’t phase you as you remove your knives from bodies and clean them on your sleeve. You pause, breath steady, then turn your head slightly, surveying the space around you. You can feel them watching. 

Sam doesn’t hesitate. He moves first because he knows the last thing they need is for you to find them first. That only ends in more blood. “We’re up.”

The second they step forward, you react like you were trained to. Like a cornered, wild animal. Your body pivots fast, hand already reaching for another knife—but Sam raises his hands in a rare show of non-hostility.

“Easy,” he says. “We’re not Hydra.”

“I know who you are,” you cut in. Your voice is even, but the weight behind it is enough to make Joaquin’s pulse jump. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Because yeah, you know exactly who Sam Wilson is. You know his green little sidekick, too. And more than that, you know his boyfriend—how he went from committing some of the worst atrocities Hydra ever assigned to shaking hands with senators. How his sins were washed clean because he had the right people to vouch for him.

You don’t have people like that. You’re not Bucky Barnes. And you don’t think you want to be.

“You have to hear it,” Sam says, regret laced through his voice. “Or we’re gonna have to take you in.”

You scoff. “Try it.”

Joaquin takes a slow breath as Sam glances at him. A silent you’re up.

You’re quiet, weighing your options. And then, with an almost imperceptible shift, you move. Fast. One second, Joaquin is standing his ground and the next, he’s dodging a strike that would’ve knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Damn, alright, shit—” he manages, stumbling back, hands up. “Hold up. Hold up. We’re the good guys here.”

You don’t lower your stance, but you hesitate when he doesn’t try to fight back. It’s slight, but Joaquin sees it. Despite your speed, your breathing is even. Controlled. Regimented.

He exhales slowly, heart still hammering. “You haven’t killed a single innocent person. That tells me you’re not the monster they tried to make you.”

Your face shifts for a moment but whatever is there is too fast for Joaquin to name. His voice softens. “I’ve seen people who fight like you. You were trained to be something you didn’t ask to be. That’s not who you are, right?”

His words somehow sneak their way past the walls you've put up and strike you in your heart. Because he’s right, you didn’t ask for it and its not who you are. Its who you were made to be and you’re just finishing the job. He sees it in the way your shoulders shift, in the microexpression you aren’t able to hide this time.

After a long beat, you lift a hand and push your hood back— he can see you clearly anyway. “No, it’s not.”

Joaquin’s breath catches.

He wonders if this is what it felt like for Sam when he and Bucky finally were able to connect and see each other as human. He can feel the weight of all you’ve experienced and all you haven’t just in once glimpse. From it, Joaquin feels nothing but sadness for you, imagining all you endured in your captivity. 

“Come with us.”

Sam steps forward. “Whoa, Joaquin–” 

You give them both a bitter smile, cutting Sam off, “Don’t worry, captain, I‘d rather die of frostbite out here anyway.”

“You're not helping.” Joaquin scolds you, looking between the two of you before pulling Sam to the side, his expression confused. “Sam, c’mon. What would Bucky do?”

“Don’t bring him into this, man.”

“I didn’t bring him into this, he is this.”

“He was,” Sam says firmly. 

“He was, and you helped him out.”

Sam sighs– Joaquin was right. It hadn’t started out that way, Sam had needed Bucky’s help. He doesn’t even remember when or how the lines began to blur; he just knew that when he was with Bucky things felt…right. They’d been lucky though, finding that in each other.

 “So what, you wanna try to save her?”

“Don’t you?”

You clear your throat behind them, and they both turn around to meet your gaze. “One; I can hear you. Two; I don’t need saving.”

“I bet you could use some back up though,” Sam insists, looking at you over Joaquin’s shoulder. “Whatcha think about that?”

He’s not wrong. You could benefit from a free ammo re-up. It’d be nice to sleep in a place where you know there are harmless, good guys. Where the walls don’t morph into haunting faces and close in on you. 

“I think there better be a hot shower and meal for me when we get there,” You start towards their tracks but when you don’t hear them moving you glance over your shoulder at them. “You princesses coming?”

“How’d you know which way?” Joaquin asks, brows knitting together.

“The tracks,” You answer easily, taking a couple more steps in that direction. You hear a soft purr. “And now the engine.”

Sam glares at Joaquin. “You left the car running?”

The two start their usual bicker and you lead the back, wondering what you’ve just gotten yourself into. Maybe something as good as what Bucky’s got— most likely none of that and more pain. That’s all you’ve ever known.

> ch. 2

let me know if you'd like to be on the joaquin torres taglist!

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @jaebugzz, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @moonymeloncholymoney, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[qinnyanimation]

Let me take this space to express how much I adore this animatic.

I've been waiting for Anni's version ever since I saw the very first spoiler because it displayed a part that I really wanted to see in Thunderbringer's animatic, which is the symbolism aspect and how much Eurylochus plays a big role in this song.

Thunderbringer is the song that Zeus is officially introduced after his vague appearance in The Horse and the Infant,. In many of the animatics that came out, they focused on displaying Zeus' power, which was really cool. But what I wanted from the song is how Zeus' appearance affected characters like Odysseus and Eurylochus.

The part that really gave me goosebumps was when Zeus transformed into the bull/cattle that Eurylocus killed. Plus, in the beginning, he used a comparison of objectifying/maltreat of women to play with Odysseus who was powerless and desperate to get home.

And the facial expressions! Anni is someone who can play with the characters' facial expressions in a way that squeezes my heart in to jelly. Oh my god Odysseus is so messed up leave the pathetic wet cat of a man alone please. And when I went to read the comments, Anni even put small details about the scene where the crew rushed in to attack Odysseus. We saw some of the crew with wedding rings. It further emphasized that everyone wanted to go home. Everyone on this ship was like Odysseus, except they had no power to decide and had to do everything they could, which was really their last ditch effort.

I really like it because no animator gave Eurylocus much importance in this song, even though it was his last appearance in this story (As in being alive). Anni emphasized Eurylocus's guilt so goddamn well. I also agree that in the end, Eurylocus would be the only one who didn't attack Odysseus. The two of them had known each other for a very long time. I believe that Eurylocus knew what kind of person Odysseus was, and he knew what Odysseus would decide, which is why he asked him for the last time, "But we'll die." I think that sounds more like someone who had given up rather than struggling.

And at the end when Penelope showed up, everyone else made Zeus do the bibbidi bobbidi boo here’s the illusion of your wife! Anni made Zeus shape-shifted in to Penelope himself. It hurt so much oh my god. Disguising himself right in front of his eyes and it was so obvious to but Odysseus is just too tired, it’s been so long since he felt her embrace, and he will gladly accept any thing even if it’s just a lie. It further emphasizes how desperate Odyssey was to go home to his kid and wife :(

Lastly, Anni I love you so much. Thank you for putting so much love and effort in to all of your work! 💙

( And of course cred to @anniflamma go watch anni’s animatic! )

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 4: Harpy

I have a strange relationship with harpies. I really like them, especially since they are the mythical equivalent to my favorite animal—vultures—but also I guess they actually manage to horrify me for some reason... Ah, well, luckily I get a chance to write for them in this challenge :D

Prompt: Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion Warnings: Yandere, Fem!Reader, Implied Sexual Actions, Violence (Swearing, Implied Murder, Implied Death, Implied Animal Cruelty, Hunting, Animal/Monster Fighting), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Long Post

"Be careful now, young'un. There's harpies roaming these fields."

Resting your head back, you let the hood of your cape free up some of your sight heavenwards. You watched the clamor of harpies flying high above the field you and the mercenary were crossing through. They were so far away they looked like little specks of feathers against the grey skies.

"Fuckin' breeding season. Every year it's the same shit. They just wait for some poor farmer's son to come out and whisk him away, fuck him till he's sucked dry, and eat him afterward."

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sound of the mercenary's foul choice of words. Although you didn't hire him for his raggedness or the threat of some usually easily slain harpies, you began to appreciate his no-shit attitude the longer you traveled together.

"By that logic, wouldn't you be more in danger?" you asked, referring to the difference in gender you two had. If the harpies were lusting after young men, then you, as a woman, had less to fear, you figured. But at the same time, with his grey hair and long beard, he probably wasn't on the dinner schedule either.

"Don't be so sure about that, young'un. I've seen beasts that were clearly lasses but had pricks closer to that of giants than any man has. Likewise, male monsters tend to prefer to hunt scarier prey than frail women like those from the villages where everyone is skin and bones except the workers. And they keep them as trophies and pets, doing unspeakable things to the men—and have the man do things to them. Monsters are not always what they seem."

"Why would they need a human then?" you questioned his words, but the mercenary only shrugged.

"Maybe they find their own as ugly as we think 'em to be."

You grimaced, unsure how to react to that information. You had always been sheltered by your family, not quite royalty, but wealthy enough that you'd be married off against your will unless you escaped far out of their reach. Luckily, your jewels and gold chains had managed to buy you a decent mercenary to help with your plans of running, finding a new home, and a new life far away from the expectancies.

"Why aren't they attacking us then? Surely, they see us."

"My, you have lotsa questions, young'un. You can't rationalize those monsters. Maybe they like other prey. Maybe they are just waiting for the right moment. Don't worry your pretty head off about why or why not, just enjoy not being eaten."

He clicked his tongue, spurning his horse forward, and you followed, worry tensing your back as you looked up again, noticing how the clamor now seemed much closer. You could even see individual feathers in the mass now. It was questionable whether drawing more attention with faster movement was a good idea. Still, you wanted to trust the mercenary and his years of experience.

"We're close now!" he yelled back to you. "Into the forest, and we'll be out of their sight!"

Pushing your heels into the side of your steed, you two fell into a speedy gallop. The hood of your coat kept falling over your eyes, but you tried your best to stay focused and keep up with your guide and protector. All you had to do to overcome this first hurdle was reach the forest, and you were so close to it, you could already smell the wood.

That was until the sudden sound of screams ahead of you made you push your hood off completely, just in time to see the silver of the mercenary's breastplate sparkling in the light as he wildly squirmed in the grasp of an enormous monster. He was yelling loudly, only drowned out by shrieking and cackling. Another feathery creature swooped down, and it was his horse next that was carried off, neighing and crying out helplessly, your breath hitching with panic as you rammed your heels into your own stead.

You were so close to the woods when a massive bird passed by just in front of your horse, the animal rearing upwards. You tried desperately to hold on, but when something gripped the horse by the neck, a sharp claw grazing your face, you lost your hold out of surprise, your body falling freely to the ground while your poor stead was carried off mercilessly.

Your head pounded with pain as it hit the dirty field, your bones aching as they tried to feather your fall. But luckily, you were pumped with adrenaline, sitting up before you even realized how much it hurt, blood dripping from your cheek.

"Hi."

The woman standing before you smiled, her eyes unblinking as her lips curled upwards. Your whole body halted in its tracks, your breath stopping. You felt yourself relax at the sight of her and then stiffen up completely, goosebumps pebbling your skin as you forced yourself to realize this couldn't be. Whatever she was, she wasn't human, appearing so suddenly. Instead, she must have been an illusion of the harpies—one of them.

She was, at best, a few steps away from you, at worse, too close to be able to escape. Her head cocked to the side just a little too far to be natural as she regarded you on the ground with unbreakable calm. The peace of a predator, someone who wasn't worried about getting hurt. Silently, you cursed your family for denying you to learn how to wield a sword or dagger. Any kind of self-defense, really. "It wouldn't be necessary," well, now it was. There were no signs of the chaos that had just unfolded, the sounds reduced to the wind softly swaying through the early sprigs of oats growing on the fields.

Don't answer, you cautioned yourself, knowing the best survival tactics when dealing with monsters was not dealing with monsters. You were already pretty vulnerable to the creature as it was; you didn't need to agitate her.

"Clever, are we?" she said, her lips splitting to reveal the teeth of the creatures you were most afraid of all of a sudden. Apparently, the harpies were not disinterested in you, something the mercenary probably hadn't thought about as he led you directly through their flock.

"And so pretty," the harpy chirped, her eyes raking over you as she cocked her head to the other side in a snap. "Want to go to the forest? You can."

Suspicion raised inside of you at her offer. Letting you go so easily? Even if she didn't want to take you away for mating, shouldn't her kind be interested in eating you?

"You'll let me go?" you asked, only realizing your mistake when it was too late, and you slammed your hand over your mouth. The harpies grin only widened, her mouth tearing open unnaturally wide.

"Yes, you can go. A darling girl like you shouldn't be around my sisters. They'd love to taste you."

Your chest was heaving heavily with panic as she spoke. You heard her coo sweetly as she watched you, her gaze dropping from your face all the way to your legs as if she were trying to rip you open and spill your guts with just her eyes. Delighted by the sight, hungry. And you felt so vulnerable under the scrutiny, her eyes on you beyond any look anyone had ever given you, dripping with her full attention and desire.

"Come back sometimes, okay? Let's play together? You're so pretty..."

You gulped. Never before had you heard the tale of a harpy letting someone go because they thought they were pretty. You dared to glance by her, looking at the woods that waited for you behind her form. It was so close, perhaps ten footsteps away, before you breached the edge of the forest.

With your breath escaping you, you staggered to your feet, trying to always keep your eyes on her. You stopped mid-movement as you heard the shuffling of her clothes. Clothes that you realized weren't from fabric at all. Just her convincingly placed feathers. It was scary how well she could imitate an ordinary woman if not for her sharp mannerisms and the way she fixated on you strangely. However, someone less aware and less familiar with the threat of harpies could have easily overlooked these features. Fallen for her illusion that only now started to dissolve as she began reacting to you.

Her wings appeared like a brown dress on her, with a mantle over her shoulders to cover up her lack of arms. Her legs were hidden well beneath the "skirt," and her brown locks perfectly framed what could pass as a pretty face in the city you were from. That was until she opened her mouth to shatter that facade.

"What?" she asked. "Do you think I'm pretty, too?"

It felt wrong to agree and give her more of your time than necessary. If she was well-disposed now, you didn't want to draw her ire. But at the same time, not answering seemed like it would cause her mood to sour, too. This time, instead of speaking, you nodded hesitantly, then firmly.

"Ah, I'm glad!" she hooted, and her "clothes" fluttered with excitement, feathers spreading outwards and destroying the illusion of her wings being garments. Something changed right before your eyes, but you couldn't pinpoint it. Even so, you were no longer fooled by her looks. She really was a monster before all else.

"Go," she cooed, leaning forward and hovering above you, her body now appearing much taller than before. "Before I keep you all to myself, you sweet, sweet thing."

Slowly, avoiding harsh movements, you finally came to a complete stand, realizing you were still at least three heads smaller than the harpy. You wouldn't let her out of your sight, and neither did she, you, as you began rounding her at a respectable distance. It wasn't enough distance to make you feel comfortable, as she could probably close it faster than anything else you knew. But it was your best bet.

She lets me go, just like that? you thought, still in disbelief. Feels like a trap.

But soon enough, your back was turned to the forest. A forest that, presumably, would keep you safe from the harpies if the words of the dead mercenary could still be trusted. He misjudged the situation once, but what were you supposed to do? Between the trees, you at least had the size advantage. Her wings fluttered again as she watched, cocking her head, hooting softly. Not moving from her spot.

Five more steps.

Four.

Three—

Your attention snapped away from her the second you heard the shriek of another monster approaching you from the side. You tumbled to the ground, feeling the force of the gust of wind its wings produced as you were thrown further away from the forest and onto the field, claws scratching you, ripping wounds into your sides. There was a match of voices as even more shrieking and hissing erupted, and you buried face down into the mud, shielding your head with your arms as movement and sounds accumulated right above you.

There must have been more than two harpies fighting above you, but you couldn't determine how many there were from your position. All you knew was that their claws sliced through the air just above your back, every one of them trying to get to you. Every one so close to hurting you—or worse.

"MINE!" one of them roared, and more shrieking occurred as a heavy, clawed foot landed on top of your back, pinning you to the dirty ground and pushing the air out of your lungs. "SHE'S MINE!"

The protest was apparent in the cacophony of sounds directed at the harpy above you, but the tumultuous movements slowly disappeared, only one body remaining. And suddenly, everything went dark, the foot on top of you slipping off until two feet were stomped into the ground on each of your sides.

You dared open your eyes again, trying to see what had happened and gauge how dead you were, but it was way too dark to see. A shudder went through what was blocking out the light, feathers fluttering aside just enough to let a spot of light in and show you were still on the dirty field. It made you realize that something was above you, shielding and enveloping you with its body.

"MINE!" the harpy shrieked again, the sound not directed at you, but it still shook your bones. "Mine," she repeated, this time calmer. You couldn't see, couldn't hear what was going on outside. But when her voice calmed, you could finally recognize it as that of the harpy you had spoken to. Even if her shrieks and caws were barely discernable to you, her voice remained the same.

She squawked a few more times into the direction of who knows where, your nerves completely blank as they couldn't get accustomed to the sounds, but now that the situation was calming down, the pain set in again, and you cursed it, willing it away only for it to blow up again inside of you.

Groaning, you braced yourself onto your arms, trying to lift from the ground, only to be met with the sharp sting of your sliced-up side. The wound was deeper than it had felt at first, and you let out a pitiful howl as you agitated it accidentally. You reckoned that your body was not okay after that attack, and you couldn't fathom how anyone could survive and mate these creatures when their claws did so much damage easily.

Turning onto your healthy side was the only thing you could think of to alleviate the pain temporarily, although the movement hurt so much more than if you had remained on your stomach.

"Oh no," the harpy cooed from above, and you spared her a glance from the one eye that was turned upwards. Her wings unfolded from each other, opening enough for her twisted neck to see through the gap, letting in some light and exposing her grotesque but real form. The legs of a bird, feathery and gnarly, the torso of a woman, and the face was a mix of both. No arms, just wings sprouting from her shoulders, and her hair a mess of feathers and twigs, nothing like the beautiful illusion she had shown you before.

"Poor, poor girl," she hooted, her expression ever so slightly drawing together in a meager display of unhappiness. "My sisters are so mean, aren't they? You were just trying to go to the forest."

You didn't acknowledge her with words as you bit your lip to stifle another sorrowful moan. Still, your body contorted, causing you to cry out in pain.

The harpy moved around you, circling you as she watched you restlessly, sweat and tears falling from your face as you couldn't even stop the bleeding with your hands full of grime and dirt. She danced around you awkwardly, keeping her wings up like a shield but letting in enough light to watch.

"You can't go like this now, can you? Can you? Poor, poor, pretty thing."

You heard her sigh, sounding oddly human, then she leaned down, poking you with the top of her wing where the bone spread to form the limb. Shockwaves of pain went through you as she agitated the wound by moving you, and you sobbed into the dirt, not knowing what to do. You couldn't communicate with her, couldn't tell her to fetch you a doctor. But if you stayed here like this, you'd probably be eaten sooner rather than later, and not unlikely by her.

Even as you cried, you used what little strength you had to sit up. The pain was unbearable, even as you clenched your jaws together tightly. But you were grateful when you felt one of her wings sweep beneath your back, helping you up even if it hurt.

"I need to stand up," you explained through sobs and cries of pain, and she hooted in understanding, lending you the firm part of her wings again to hold onto. She wasn't very deft in how much strength of hers you needed to be supported, but she tried to help—she, a monster. The situation was beyond strange and unimaginable, yet you almost felt some gratitude towards her.

"I need..." you gasped as you finally got to your legs. Pain was stealing your air, your mind twirling, and every thought getting more challenging to form. You stumbled backward, but her body caught you, steadied yours with hers. Dizziness raked at your conscience, the blood loss taking its toll. "A doctor. I need... a doctor..."

"Doctor?" she hooted questioningly. "What's a doctor?"

"A human who helps... injured humans. Medizin..."

"Huh?" With her elongated neck, she could easily look at your face even from behind you, but you didn't dare to look up to see how unnaturally she twisted her head back and forth, as she didn't understand. It wasn't that far off that harpies probably didn't help each other heal. They seemed more of the... cannibalistic type when one of them was weak.

"I need... help. I'm sick."

"Oh."

Finally, she seemed to understand, but unfortunately, instead of helping, she seemed deep in thought when the ground suddenly shook, and you had to grasp her wing tightly to keep your balance.

"Not fair!" another creature squawked, the sound almost shattering your eardrums coming from right in front of you. The ground shook even more as more of them landed, confronting their sister and you.

"Not fair! We want the human, too!"

"No!" the harpy at your back barked at them. "She's mine."

"She's not your mate!" they complained. "She's weak and bleeding! As good as dead!"

The harpies fell into a cacophony of chants, some saying "Dead Human!" in unison while the others shrieked, "Eat! Eat! Eat!"

"NO!" the harpy bellowed, shutting the others up fast. You were shocked by the vibrations of her body at your back, but it almost made you smile a little. What a stupid monster without a reason to be this protective. And yet she kept fighting for you.

"Then... she's a mate?" one of the harpies asked, sounding at her wit's end. The other hooted along to the statement, questioning your protector.

"Yes," she announced firmly, and this time, you did wrench your head upwards. She met your gaze with resolution, adding, "She's my mate. I have decided."

"Wha—?" you managed to wring out when one of her feet suddenly dug beneath your arms, clawed toes wrapping around your upper torso. You groaned in pain even though they didn't touch the wound directly as she placed them with intentions, but before you could complain, your feet lifted up from the ground, and you were just beneath the clouds faster than you could speak.

"Wait!" you screamed, struggling only to be hit with more pain.

"Where are you bringing me?" you asked, much quieter now that the situation finally dawned on you. The harpy tugged her legs in, supporting you with the free one beneath your thighs and giving you a place to sit on while also smushing you lightly against her feathery bottoms.

"To the nest. You said you are hurt, so I must clean your wounds, mate. Need to find herbs and food for you. Maybe there's some left from the hunt earlier. Flesh. You are too skinny."

"But... I'm not even your mate! We're both girls!" you complained heavenward, and she clucked, almost as if she was laughing.

"That makes no difference. You are my mate, I have decided."

"Do I get a chance to decide?" you whined, and for a moment, her wings stopped beating, the flight turning into a glide.

Her neck twisted, face turning back to look at you, and your wounds pounded angrily as her grip tightened.

"You are wounded. Do you want to be eaten?"

You gulped. That sounded much like your previous assumptions that harpies were not usually taken on duties to care for others.

"N-No?" you answered truthfully, but it sounded like a question anyway. Perhaps death was better than whatever "mate" was.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, she turned forward again, resuming her flight.

"Then you are my mate now. You'll like the nest. We can soften it together, and then we can create young. You'll stay there and heal, and I'll bring you food and gather pretty things for my pretty mate."

She looked down again, and her lips split in an upside-down grin, so very similar to that of her human form. She seemed almost... happy. You swallowed hard as she revealed her plans, unable to come up with anything that would change her mind and not drop you from this height. What else was there but to comply with her—for now? Maybe once you were healed and back on steady ground, you could escape her and still make the run you had planned to make anyway. Just now, you had your own family and a monster gnawing at your heels. At least you'd be safe for now, you hoped.

Hearing no complaints from you, her grin widened even more, feathers puffing as if she was proud of her accomplishments.

"My mate," she cooed, and the clouds cleared up, revealing the sundown over the ocean, a couple hundred more harpies squealing and screeching beneath you as you two made your way towards the cliffside. It was too close to the city you used to live in. Back to point zero, now with an additional struggle to manage. But at least here, they'd have a hard time finding you and perhaps an even harder time retrieving you while you could plan your next moves.

It wasn't what you had imagined when you ran away, but you'd have to do with it for now.

Your new home.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: separation, John being John.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12 - part 13 - part 14

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh my god i’ve missed you!” your sister says as she gets into your car at the train station and although a piece of home has left it also feels like a piece has come home.

“Thankyou for coming.” you smile pulling her into an uncomfortable hug over the center counsel. 

“Coffee and a good movie that perhaps includes phone time?” she says as you pull away.

“Good god you mastermind.” you two laugh while  backing out of the busy parking lot. 

“So tell me everything, like what the hell this is?” she asks while grabbing the photo strip of you and john you keep on your dash.

“That day we went to the winery and they have a really popular black and white photo booth.” She smiles at the way your eyes light up when speaking about him.

“You complement each other well.” 

“Thank you, you’d love him, maybe when he gets back you could meet him.” The suggestion isn't one you'd ever see yourself making again after your last embarrassment of a boyfriend.

“Of course.” she says with a soft smile.

—-----------------------

“Do you think she’s okay?” John asks Simon who sits next to him on the foreign base.

“I do.” 

“I wish I could call her already, just to be sure and shake this feeling.” He was told calls weren't permitted until clearance that the location they’re at is secured.

“Captain, she can handle herself, she's going to be fine and if this goes to plan we’ll be back in no time.” John just sighs, his breath making a cloud into the cold air. By no time Simon means a month, a whole thirty days without you, he might just die from heartbreak. 

“You think you'll marry her?” Simon has always been one for deep conversation but it’s always random and spontaneous.

“Jesus son it hasn't even been seven months.” John says with an awkward laugh knowing he has an answer to the question.

“That's not what I asked the captain.” Simon replies.

“I'd be lucky to, I'd give everything to make that woman my wife, it’s just too soon, I don’t want to scare her off.” he says with a hopeless sigh.

“Time is an illusion, captain, don't wait forever.” 

“What are you, A fucking poet?”

“Yeah.” They both laugh as Simon opens a pack of cigarettes offering one to John and grabs one from the pack for himself. 

“Like I said if I'm lucky.” 

“I think the perfect woman falling into your hands proves you're as lucky as it gets, i mean look at those idiots.”he says gesturing towards johnny and gaz who arm wrestle on a wobbly table.

“You're right.” 

—----------------

The days have been stretched long, you think to yourself. It was good though, the distractions of shopping and hanging with your sister was nice and relieving but now it's four in the morning and she's fast asleep beside you and your eyes won't even shut for more than five minutes before the anxiety becomes too much.

It's been a long time since you’ve had a night like this and you don't wish to have many more but while johns away you most likely will. 

You get out of bed quietly and head to his room to grab a shirt of his, anything to feel closer. Walking in you realize you and john are very rarely in here and dust collects on the clothing drawer you open.

“I've missed these.” you say pulling your favorite pair of undies from the bottom of his pajama shirt drawer wondering when he could've gotten them then it hits you, these are from the night of your first date, you laugh quietly before putting them back.

You pull the shirt over your head right then and there, discarding the one you had on before, leaving it somewhere on John's floor before heading back to bed.

“Where'd you go?” your sister mumbles, scaring the life out of you.

“John's room real quick sorry for waking you.” you reply in a whisper.

“Yeah I thought a man got into bed with me.” you figure you've become a little blind to how strong his cologne can be and apologize. 

“Night.” you say before sliding under the duvet.

—-------------

“That was close too close, almost got caught.” John says very sternly to his task force who just returned from their first outing in this foreign country.

“But we didn't.” gaz says, and it's true was it close yes but there've been many other occasions just like it.

“But we were close!” The captain's booming voice makes them all fall silent.

“Next time I say to pull away you listen, do you understand, let me expect more from you.” he pointed at simon.

“Understood.” he says with a nod. 

“I'll see you all in the morning.” the captain says before walking away and into his tent. The boys all spare eachother side glances before Johnny starts.

“He needs to get laid immediately.” 

“He just has something to live for now I think and it's scaring him.” ghost replies and it's troubling him, because although he understands his captain has to get his emotions under control before this mission blows up in their faces.

“Go talk to him Lt.” Gaz says pointing towards where the silhouette of John is visible through the tarp of his tent. Simon gets up without another word walking to the tent asking if he could open it.

“What do you want?” John says to him, still agitated.

“Captain i understand your emotions are high right now you miss her and you're not allowed to call yet but understand we are soldiers and as a team we understand each other-”

“I'm the captain and I'm glad you understand each other but it's my job to understand the situation.” 

“You're trying to understand the situation here and at home, and it's going to get us killed.” Simon says before leaving. John realizes then he has had his mind in two places and he can't afford that. Swallowing his pride he approaches the team who's still sitting where he left them.

“I apologize for my outburst, let's reread some files and figure out an action plan for tomorrow.” 

—-------------

It's been nearly a week and not a sound from John, you're worried sick and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Your sister has a life to return to and you'll be alone with these thoughts for however long.

“Alright babe till next time.” she says hopping out of your car back at the same spot you picked her up from. You get out to help her get her extra bags that she acquired from shopping. 

“I love you, call me when you get home.” you say giving her a big hug trying not to cry.

“Will do, love you.” you watch her board before leaving. You're back home before you know it, getting back basically on autopilot.. You decide to call it a night at six, the emotional baggage of the day and the possibility of going another day without speaking to John is enough to get you to sleep heavily. 

And sure enough not only another day passes with no contact but another week goes by.

—------------

“Good job out there today, that was beyond successful.” John says, patting everyone on the back as they all file back into their temporary base.

“Hey captain, have you spoken to the little lass?” he was cleared his fifth day here to call home but simply hasn't.

“No I haven't.” 

“Why not?” it takes soap by surprise, the captain went from being worried sick about you to not even mentioning your name.

“It's a distraction I can't handle right now.” Simon's ears pick up on this and he just shakes his head in disappointment, that man only ever hears what he wants to. 

“Okay, she probably misses you though.” soap continues.

“Don't johnny.” the captain demands sternly leaving him to just walk away.

John misses you he does, so much so it makes him sick but he can't afford to think about you more than a little before it consumes his thoughts, what're you doing?Where are you?How are you?It's all too much.

He stares at the phone he was issued long enough to the point where he picks it up and dials your number and of course you answer first ring.

“John, good god hon i've missed you.” he doesn't say anything just listens to your voice fill his ears.

“John hello you there.” he stays silent trying to hold in this rush of sadness he hadn't expected.

“Johnnnnnn hello, i think your connection is bad or maybe it's mine.” he feels guilty for doing this to you, just like he gets the comfort of hearing you again you deserve that too but he just can't bring himself to speak, so he hangs up and sets the phone down leaving his tent to drown himself in work and whatever else there is to do.

—------------

The confusion and uncertainty that followed with the click of the phone was immense but there were no tears left to cry by now. You've just accepted the fact that he couldn't talk right now reminding yourself that you knew what you were getting into when he asked you to be his girlfriend or as he says it his partner.

—------------

Another week, then another passes

“He hasn't called, I'm just worried.” you say while on facetime as you fold laundry.

“Maybe it isn't allowed.” she says trying to comfort you by making that stupid face people make when they don't know what to say.

“But he told me he could, so I just don't get what changed you know, but maybe you're right, I just miss him.” 

“And that's okay, it's healthy.” Since she's left, her phone is full with nothing but you and your rants about life, your day, how much you miss john.

“How long has it been now?” 

“Four weeks going on five.” you sigh while getting up to put some clothes away in your closet.

“Well he'll be back soon hopefully, I got to go when my break is over.” she says while blowing you a kiss through the phone.

“Okay bye.” —--------------

You're woken up at four in the morning the next night from your phone buzzing under your pillow, excitedly thinking  it's John. You quickly grab it looking at the number and although it's similar in area code some numbers are different but nonetheless you answer.

“Hello.”

“Hey it's Johnny we’ve met. I'm a friend of johns.” soap says into the phone simon and gaz next to him listening.

“Hey is everything okay, is john okay?” you say in a bit of a panic.

“Yes yeah everythings okay we’re or I’m just calling to see how you are, make sure you're okay?”

“Yeah I'm fine are you?” You say a little mind boggled that Johnny is calling you before your partner.

“Yeah I’m well actually.” He says as if this is casual conversation.

“Johnny, why isn’t John the one calling me?” You finally ask, he doesn’t know what to say he looks at the two other men who shrug and are obviously thinking of what to say. 

“I don’t know.” Gaz rolls his eyes and Simon pushes the side of Johnny's head at the obvious lie.

“Oh okay. If you can tell him I miss him and that I love him.” All their heads fall into their hands as the choke in your words is obvious.

“I will.” 

“Is he avoiding me?” This hadn’t even been a possibility in your mind until right now.

“No, I'm sure he’s just um he’s just busy.” They hear the captain tent start to unzip.

“Okay lass got to go stay safe and do not ever tell the captain about this.” He says before hanging up without another word.

—————

“Who were you talking to?” The captain mindlessly asks as he approaches them sitting down beside Johnny. 

“A little lass I met not too long ago.” Not a lie but not the truth.

“Okay, anyways Tomorrow should be our last day. We've got to secure one more piece of information then we’re out of here.” 

“Excited to get home?” Gaz asks.

“Yeah but I’ll probably stay at the base a little longer to do these files.” 

“Why?” Simon questions, wondering what childish excuse his captain will come up with. 

“I’ll be distracted at home.” Simon stands without another word leaving into his own tent.

“What’s his deal?” The captain asks the other two remaining.

“Just being himself.” The captain nods even though there’s definitely more to it. 

——————-

Thank you for reading, comments and reposts are immensely appreciated<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving @maladptivedaydreaming

[benevadeca]

Not an opinion I've seen anyone else make but to me SJ's behavior is not that of someone who is rly considering long-term consequences. Which goes against fanon of him being this scheming intentionally thoughtfully maliciously paranoid insecure guy.

And don't get me wrong he IS a paranoid insecure guy but the track record of his life kind of speaks for itself. Bc his whole life has been insane upset after insane upset with the consistent thread of suffering and being hated lol. So him holding onto everything he can/hoarding in CQM is specifically BC he knows nothing is permanent and can be taken away. Guy who has never been secure in anything ever.

So like, the consequence of that mindset is that OFC he hoards material items and does the bare minimum to be polite and maintain his position. It's fragile and temporary anyway, but he can at least do all in his power to minimize the potential of loss in the mean time!

Why bother trying to get along with his peers? Gi-ge, the person who knew him at his most wretched, turned against him, so obviously any attempt to garner affection is inevitably doomed and even more unreliable than anything else in life (and more hurtful when it's lost than any physical pain he's gone thru lol).

Also in his own mind his position on CQM is like. Extra insecure. For several reasons ie:

(initially) That it was kind of nepo and fully dependent on the guilt of someone who abandoned him and he has an entire past he has to hide (half bc of the tangible consequences of his past/half bc he thinks YQY is bribing him to keep it secret bc he's ashamed of it)

(later) He's got fantasy cultivation disability/heart demon (PTSD) chronic seizure disorder that makes him weaker than his peers

(later) His reputation sucks for both reasonable and unreasonable reasons, and he's disliked by his peers so the position that should give him the illusion of authority and respectability kind of barely does that (isn't he like fully just called a mudslinger when he tries to call out OG!SQH?* With like not even any investigation into it, just like there was no investigation when the killed LQG accusations came up)

(general) TFW you escape poverty and now have material things and don't know how to deal w/ that so you freak out abt keeping it bc now you have smth to actually lose and you also don't know how to deal w/ it bc your body has been hardwired for an entirely different way of living

guy who's always lived with a Clear Survival Goal so when he's left basically languishing in his eternal purgatory of being divorced with his boss as a private school teacher he does not know how to deal with it

This is all to say lol no way the him just accepting the LBH trial shit without argument isn't fully just that he's already long consigned himself (at LEAST when LQG dies like that's the final nail but the expectation was always at least BG) & in fact sees it as basically a relief that his expectations were meant. No longer waiting for shit to hit the fan he's like oh finallyyyyy. TFW getting put into forever torture prison at least relieves him of the pain of having hope and of waiting and having to try when all his efforts never bear fruit into anything he actually wants that don't have some sick caveat to it. Except lol even the last desires he has of "die quickly" and "at least my poison won't hurt anyone else" are ruined by YQY sacrificing himself. Anyway if you've read all this thanks for sticking around I've already mailed mxtx a pipe bomb.

*totally thought this was real & still p sure it was mentioned somewhere but it has been a while since I've read the source material so if anyone can tell me if this is a sourceable claim or another fandom hc that's been repeated enough to be taken as legitimate pls hmu

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter VI

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: sorry for the major delay on this chapter everyone, I've been juggling a lot privately and professionally but I'll be back to regular updates over the course of the next week <3 also, just broke 20k with this update, woo!! summary for this chapter is: the art of self-sabotage. or, old habits die hard.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving/receiving), loss of virginity, dirty talk, shower sex, falling in love

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark @sadslasher13 (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 2.8k

Masterlist Next Chapter

How could you let this happen? Be this stupid?

This is exactly what you didn't want, trying your absolute damnedest to bury your feelings for Bjorn deep, deep under the weight of denial and downplay but—you can't, no matter how hard you try.

You're fighting an increasingly losing battle, falling further every time Bjorn comes around, every time he fucks you and holds you in his arms after. Every time he apologizes for whatever mean things he said in front of the others just so he can keep up the appearances you so desperately wanted to uphold. Every time he tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers that everything's going to be alright when nothing about this remotely is.

And you cry every time he leaves, finding it harder and harder to hold it in each time he does, like he's taking another piece of your heart with him every time he goes, crying salt into your pillow as you hug it close to your naked chest in the hours after, until your sobs taper off into pathetic wet sniffles, dehydrated and drained like you’re grieving a loss that hasn’t yet come to fruition.

But it will—and that’s the crux of it isn’t it, because you know in your bones, in your soul that you’ll lose this just like you’ve lost everything else before, because you’ve learned early on that everyone, no matter how much you need them, will always, always, leave in the end.

It’s a tough pill to swallow but then again, the truth always is, so you do what you can to prepare for it, choosing to shatter the illusion of happiness yourself instead of waiting for it all to inevitably come crashing down around you, desperately hoping it won’t hurt as bad when you do.

A decision you come to after another night spent drinking in the quarry, most nights spent together spent drinking, alcohol the only thing that really takes the edge off after an incredibly long and difficult shift.

Slumped back into the camping chair you’re sitting in, the one that you’ve unofficially claimed as yours, you quietly watch the familiar dance of flames everyone was sitting around, finishing off the last of your beer while the others talked and laughed.

You’d been pretty quiet all night, barely contributing anything to the conversations happening around you, too busy in your own head contemplating how to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve found yourself in as you tossed the now empty glass bottle into some nearby bushes.

Usually you'd stop after three, never one to catch anything more than a buzz but tonight, tonight you wanted to get absolutely shit-faced, wanted to shut out all the white noise inside your head, if only for a little while.

So you go to get up, intent on grabbing another drink from the worn down cooler Navarro’s feet were propped up on when Bjorn’s voice made you freeze, asking, “needa refill luv?” from the other side of the pit, head whipping up so hard you almost threw it out.

He must’ve been watching you, had to have been for him to have immediately noticed you were out, your stomach fluttering wildly at the assumption, doing your absolute damnedest not to show it on your face, no matter how badly you want to hiss at Bjorn, “what the fuck are you doing—sit back down!!!” but, you don't. Can't. The words dying in your throat every time you went to say it.

With your eyes glued to him, you watched as he walked around the burning steel drum towards his sister, his shoulders slouched and his chin down, the confident swagger he usually carries himself with gone and been replaced with a level of uncertainty you're not used to, one that helplessly flashes you back to shy blue eyes unable to meet yours just before he sucked on your breasts or stretched you open on his thick fingers.

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling wetness starting to seep between them. Not the time.

Bjorn nudged Navarro’s feet off the cooler lid, totally ignoring the scowl his sister threw at him while her hand was cupped around the dying cherry of her cigarette she was trying to keep from going out, fishing another bottle of aspen beer from the half melted ice in the process.

He came to a stop in front of you, holding the drink out by the glass neck to take, giving a smile meant just for you, so warm it had you burning hotter than the kindling wood behind him as everything briefly dissolved around you, like the entire universe was made up of just you, him, and the space in between, the warmth he was wearing radiating throughout your chest.

It was incredibly tender and brief and all wrong, the moment interrupted when Rain cleared her throat beside you, bringing you crashing back down to reality.

More than enough to make you recoil—hard. The bottle you'd been mid hand off slipping from your grip and shattering onto the pebbled stones between his and your feet, splashing chilled lager across both of your pant legs.

Bjorn had sworn under his breath then, asking you things like, “fuck, ah’ ya alright?” and, “ya’ ain't hurt ah’ ya,’ darlin?���” but you’d barely heard, had tuned it all out as your gaze swung wildly around the lopsided circle your friends were huddled in, all eyes on you.

Whether from the beer or from Bjorn you didn't know—didn't want to know, feeling severely scrutinized under the weight of their collective stare, like they could see right through you, like they knew what you were hiding, causing you to shrink down low into your seat, line of sight trained on the freshly wet gravel as you snapped at Bjorn that you didn't want his fucking handouts.

You could see the lower half of Bjorn’s body go rigid from within your periphery, refusing to look up and meet his eyes, afraid of what you might find, of possibly seeing some of that blossoming affection you’d been feeling mirrored in his icy blues, waiting to let out the shaky exhale you’d been holding until he walked back to his seat.

No one commented on your bizarre little exchange, probably because they knew you were a flight risk, that you’d turn tail and run at the first sign of conflict—like you always did, which is why you forced yourself to stay, not wanting to raise any more questions.

After the bonfire had ended Bjorn, like most nights, found his way back to your apartment, a bit cautious to approach you in your bedroom, probably sensing the sour mood he'd inadvertently put you in, asking for permission to touch while he crawled into your bed to join you.

And now here you are, Bjorn grunting as he thrusts into you once, twice, three more times before he finishes inside the condom buried eight inches deep between your legs, hairline damp from exertion with his bangs sticking to his forehead in sweaty little peninsulas.

He leans down, the cool metal of his dog tags brushing up your bare chest while he does, to plant an incredibly tender kiss to your lips, smiling into it when he feels you reciprocate, going in for a slew of quick pecks the same time he lets go of the leg he’s still holding up, fingers dimpling the back of your thigh.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” he grins a little wider, still a bit winded as he tries catching his breath, rolling off of you to lie flat on his back instead, covered in a fresh set of scratches trailing down from his shoulders to the base of his spine.

There's a beat of silence, only punctuated by the mingling of your heavy breathing slowly returning to normal and the systematic tick of your alarm clock on the bedside table next to your head, feeling Bjorn's hand find its way into yours down between your bodies.

Tears start to crease along your waterlines, rapidly fluttering your lashes to try and blink them away, to not draw Bjorn’s attention to how absolutely vulnerable you feel. This was a mistake. A big one. And not just tonight—all of it. Every kiss, every touch, every whispered filthy praise shared between you, closing your eyes for a moment, just long enough for you to work up the nerve and say, “we have to talk,” voice thick with thinly-veiled emotion.

Bjorn perks up at that, rolling onto his side as he sat up on his elbow, cheek resting on a loosely curled fist, the shitty stick and poke of the losing dice frowny face he has tatted on the back of his right hand, one of the many Navarro gave him when he was fifteen and they were both high as a kite while giggling quietly on the floor of his bedroom as to not wake their dad, upside down from this angle.

“Glad ya’ said sumthin’ princess,” he smiles a shy, tiny thing you aren’t used to, fighting the overwhelming urge to back out now, “cuz m’ pretty sure I feel tha’ same.”

You seriously doubt that, your suspicion sadly confirmed when he confesses, “I think m’ fallin’ fo’ ya,’” the same time you say, “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

More silence, except—this one says a hell of a lot more.

Your throat goes tight and painful, like you just swallowed shards of glass and poured salt into the resulting wounds, watching the smile on his face quickly dissolve, replaced by a pinched frown and the confused furrow of his eyebrows, sitting all the way up to stare down at you.

“Wha’?” He asks, so small and fragmented it feels like a knife stab to the chest having to hear it. Fuck, you knew it was going to sting,that you were in too deep by the time you realized you were falling for him, but you didn't expect it to hurt this bad, like you want to take it all back but you don't—you can’t, for your sake and his.

“I said,” you push through the acute ache, disguising your tone with something harsher, something hurtful, “we should stop seeing each other. It's just—not working out anymore.”

“M’ sorry but where in tha’ bloody fuck is this all comin’ from? I thought things wuz’ good between us,” he argues, using his hand to gesture between your body and his as you sit up against the headboard, pulling your blanket up over your chest so you aren't so exposed.

“Well, you were wrong. We just—we aren't meant for each other. We're only hooking up out of convenience and you know it,” you reinforce, unable to meet his eyes head on, just like the quarry, gaze trained on the worn comforter by his naked thigh.

Still, you're able to catch a glimpse of the confusion on Bjorn's face morph into utter annoyance, snapping at you to, “cut tha’ shit already.”

“Excuse me?” You bristle immediately, letting your anger temporarily eclipse your pain so you don't break down in front of him, “fuck you if you think I'm lying.”

“Oh, m’ sorry if m’ havin’ a hard time believin’ ya, but ya’ can't jus’ fake tha’ kinda chemistry. I'm willin’ ta’ bet it all on black ya’ felt it jus’ as much as I did.”

You can see desperation bleed into his eyes, hear it seep into his words, wavering like he's not so sure anymore but still trying to convince himself that he's right—and he is, you know in your bones that he is but he doesn't need to know that, muttering back, “what the fuck do you even know.”

His nostrils flare as a result, clearly offended by your statement, leaning in on his palm, fingers spread over your sweaty, wrinkled bed sheets, his gaze firmly transfixing itself on you, “‘scuze me? Ah’ ya’ tryna be daft on purpose?” not giving you any room to respond before he continues on.

“Listen—I can't speak fo’ ya,’ but I know wha’ I fuckin’ feel. D’ya really fuckin’ think I wanna feel like this?! Tha’ I wanted this ta’ happen? Course fuckin’ not. I don't get close ta’ people tha’ ain't mah’ family but then you. Ya’ came along an’—I neva’ intended ta’ get ta’ know ya’ at all. Yeah I thought ya’ wuz a total smokeshow when I first laid mah’ eyes on ya’ but I figured ya’ wouldn't stick around long with how bloody standoffish ya’ were, always lookin’ like ya' didn't wanna be there

“But then ya’ did. Ya’ did an’ we almost fuckin’ died so I opened up ta’ ya’ figurin’ we wuz both gonnas’ then ya’ let me touch ya.’ Let me inside ya,’ an’ I couldn't stop fuckin’ replayin’ it in mah' head tha’ night I slept ova’ at Kay an’ Tyler's. Had ta’ rub one out in tha’ bathroom an’ bite down on mah’ fuckin' fist like a hormonal tweener. I woulda been embarrassed if I wuzn't so fuckin' turned on.

“So I had ta’ go back fo’ a round two, see if it wuz jus’ a fluke but once I was fuckin’ ya again I couldn't stop, I wanted more every time, like a fuckin’ junkie lookin’ fo’ tha’ next fix, no matta’ how hard I tried resistin.’ But then I started ta’ notice otha’ things ‘sides tha’ face ya’ make when I make ya’ pussy weep around mah’ cock an’ ya' sing so pretty fo’ me,” he says, face neutral and tone even despite how hot your cheeks are hearing that.

“Like how carin’ ya' ah’ fo’ tha’ othas’ despite actin’ like ya’ don't. Tha’ ya' had ta’ grow up fas’ as fuck an’ took it out on yaself’ instead o’ lashin’ out like an’ insecure prick. Like me. Tha' I thought I'd neva’ seen someone so fuckin' beautiful in all mah’ life when ya’d fall asleep befo’ me, even when ya’ wuz droolin’ on mah’ chest and snorin’ like one o’ them fuckin' minin’ drills. Tha’ I thought I could listen ta’ ya' horrendous singin’ in tha’ showa’ all day when ya’ woke up befo’ me. Tha’ I wanted ta’ call ya’ mine fo’ a fuckin’ while now.

An’ I know I wuzn't jus’ imaginin’ shit. I might be shit at expressin’ mah’ feelins’ but so ah’ you. Ya’ can’t convince me none o’ it wuz real.”

You consider trying to take it all back, while he’s still giving you an out, feeling like your heart’s been violently ripped out of your chest but you refrain from doing so, choosing to stand your ground, no matter how shaky the earth beneath you feels. You can’t afford to lose someone again, it’ll be better in the long run to ruin it now than to let life steal someone else away when you least expect it, when you can’t possibly handle any more heartbreak.

Finally meeting his eyes you force yourself not to flinch at the intensity of his gaze as they scrutinize you, like he can see right through you, feeling more exposed now than you did when he first got you naked.

“It wasn’t,” you insist, somewhat petulantly.

It’s his turn to roughly swallow at what you say, his confidence visibly waning in the slouch of his shoulders and the way he pulls back a little, the uncertainty of his words when you first confessed making a comeback—much stronger this time but still underscored by a level of defiance like he’s clinging on to some modicum of hope.

“So allat—allat really meant absolutely nuthin’ ta’ ya?’”

You know you have to inflict maximum damage, to crush any chance of making the same mistake twice, finding yourself leaning in like he did earlier to emphasize your point, not deviating away from devastated blue as you hiss, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

And that was all it took, watching how quickly Bjorn turned his back to you while he quietly yanked on his clothes, shoulders shaking in anger, in rejection—in defeat. He's hurting, it's more than obvious by the way his voice shakes, sounding like wet gravel as he croaks at you to, “have a nice fuckin’ life,” before storming out of your apartment, leaving you alone, the silence you once found comfort in when you were on your own bordering on unbearable now.

It's for the best, you reason, it's what needs to happen, you don't need to make this any harder than it already fucking is, finally allowing yourself to break down, as pained sobs rack your body, crying so hard you grab at your chest like you’re trying to open another airway, gasping between each tearful moan.

So, if this is really for the best—then why does it feel like the worst decision you’ve ever made?

[yuamusuzuran]

The Dragon & the Foreseer who loved him - pt.3

Pairing: Sylus x Zayne/SnowCrow

Chp word count: 2660

Minors DNI/ Mature and Explicit content ahead!

Chapter TAGS: nicknames, banter, tension, hurt/comfort, heavy canon divergence, Sylus POV

Previous chapters: CHP1, CHP2

I've realized I've kinda merged Zayne's two myths together, you'll see what I mean.

If you wish to become a part of the tag list, refer here!

ENJOY!

CHAPTER 3 - Why do you look like you're about to shed tears?

As it was expected, the royal army went into pursuit of the escaped dragon only three days after his prison break.

The nation of Philos was thrust into a state of general unrest and panic, the fact that a single dragon was still living and on the run prompting many citizens to spend most of their time indoors, be it in larger cities or villages.

But the biggest surprise for the royal family was the fact that their trusted Foreseer also went missing, and around the same time as the vicious beast broke out of his bondage.

It didn’t take those humans long to connect two and two together, their struggle to come up with a reliable plan rather amusing to imagine and observe from afar.

At that point, the dragon and the Foreseer have been traveling across the kingdom for almost two weeks, successfully evading the approaching royal army that could only take accounts of citizens and villagers that managed to spot the ominous figure in the sky by pure stroke of luck.

And even those accounts weren’t accurate… and mostly because none of those foolish humans even thought of the fact that this dragon could do much more than just destroy everything in his path.

Traveling in the dead of night, resting during the day, that was this duo’s main course of action.

The dragon already knew this land by heart, remembered the location of every cave or underground tunnel they could use to rest for the day, knowing that whoever remembered his previous escape was long dead and forgotten.

Finding him will be as impossible as finding a needle in stack of hay.

They would fly across the dark sky, sometimes even above the clouds if the weather wasn’t too pleasant for travel, the dragon occasionally casting illusions of his own form just to confuse or distract any possible onlookers.

But even though he had passed through this escaping routine once before, there was one factor that was very much different from back then…

His traveling companion, or rather, his captive was something the dragon had to pay extra close attention to, and not just because he was human and therefor more fragile.

In spite of that very fact, the Foreseer was more than willing to put the dragon at the unease just by acting as the most obedient captive one could imagine.

But the dragon was no fool.

That human wielded powerful ice magic, and from what the dragon saw and heard, he could very much fight if needed. But instead, he chose to follow his captor’s every order, like an obedient puppy.

He was definitely scheming, the dragon was sure of it. Waiting for me to put my guard down…

But the most disturbing thing in that human’s behavioral pattern wasn’t even his obedience or his massive unwillingness to use his magic when near the dragon. It was his attitude and calm demeanor that had put this vicious beast on edge.

Aside from the first night when they met, when the dragon could so clearly smell the fear and terror on him, the Foreseer acted as if he was on a relaxing stroll through nature, his scent of jasmine being the only thing the dragon could smell.

There was no emotion in that man, not a single one the dragon could use to his advantage… and that scared him more than anything…

“You’re awfully antsy tonight, Snowflake” the dragon mumbled, his wings carrying them high above a vast, deserted valley.

The human’s hands gripped onto his shoulders tightly, digging his fingers in the softer skin of his right shoulder “I told you not to call me that, it’s unflattering”

“You refuse to tell me your name” the dragon reminded, sultry chuckle once again leaving his lips “But maybe you like being called ‘human’. Would the Foreseer prefer that?”

A loud scoff could be heard from behind “You just called me a Foreseer. Why not use that when talking to me?”

The dragon shook his head, wildly amused by this interaction “Why would I call you that? You’re not clairvoyant anymore, remember?”

The human stayed quiet this time around, only his grip around dragon’s neck and shoulders stiffening in a silent protest.

“You didn’t answer my question” the beast prompted again.

“What question?”

The dragon signed “Why are you so antsy? You are making it difficult to fly in a straight line… unless you want me to drop you, hm?”

Even more silence ensued, only wind brushing against their ears as they continued their journey.

“I was trying to… see something” the human eventually mumbled, his voice so weak the dragon barely heard him.

“See what?”

A frustrated sigh was rather close to the dragon’s ear, so close in fact he could feel the Foreseer’s cold breath on his earlobe.

But once he finally spoke, the human hesitated, unlike any time the dragon had heard him speak before:

“This valley…” he murmured “This is the place where I grew up”

The dragon turned his head to look at the human sideways, his eyes truly trying to focus on whatever he might see below.

“This place has been abandoned for more than a century…” he explained, the Foreseer’s grip tightening once more.

“I’m aware…” he acknowledged “It was the drought… then the famine… and then the outbreak of a mysterious plague…”

The dragon shook his head in mild amusement “You know all that and yet you’re still hoping everything’s intact?” he chuckled “And besides, it’s been a century, so unless you’ve been living from scraps and lounging in these abandoned houses-”

“I’m more than four hundred years old”

The dragon frowned, turning his head once again to look at the human. When he couldn’t read him, the beast pulled his wings in before turning on his back mid-air, throwing the human a bit higher before spreading his wings again.

He could clearly see surprise and a tinge of fear in the Foreseer’s eyes, but aside from that, he didn’t even make a sound while being tossed and turned high up in the sky.

In a matter of moments, the human landed right on dragon’s chest, the beast using his scaly arms to embrace him and hold him in place.

“Excuse me?” he demanded, the Foreseer’s eyes widening as their noses almost touched, only to frown deeply once again.

“You’ve heard me” he retorted “I’m more than four hundred years old… and yes, the longevity comes with the title of a Foreseer.”

The dragon chuckled, amused smile spreading across his features “You’ve read my mind with that answer. And you say you’ve completely lost your clairvoyant powers”

The human inhaled sharply before looking away, not able to move even an inch in that position “It was a logical question one would ask, I’m not lying about not foreseeing anything in the future…”

“I know, I know” dragon’s smile widened “I just love teasing you. That’s the only way this little Snowflake will show any type of emotion at all”

The human’s frown deepened even more, those green eyes locking with the dragon’s crimson ones “I know what you’re trying to do… and it won’t work”

“Oh?” dragon sounded almost amused “And what am I doing, hm?”

The Foreseer proudly raised his chin “You’re trying to make me show emotions so you can use them to your advantage” he elaborated “I know dragons are able to make people go mad with their feelings… and just because you have a handsome face doesn’t mean it’ll work if I don’t allow you to latch onto any of my emotions”

The dragon’s eyebrows widened, his lips revealing his sharp fangs in a half-amused, half-wicked smirk “You think I’m handsome?” he laughed “I’m honored”

The human promptly looked away and closed his mouth, refusing to even look dragon’s way from that moment onward no matter how much the beast chuckled and giggled.

Doesn’t matter, the dragon thought. We’ll reach our hiding place for the night very soon, anyway. You can sulk there, little Snowflake…

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A chill ran down the dragon’s spine, a sensation he hasn’t felt since he was a tiny hatchling.

He propped himself up on the ledge where he slept, raising his right hand where the burning sensation etched into his flesh.

There it was… mark of an escapee.

The little Snowflake was trying to run away.

His eyebrows twitching, the dragon leapt from his hiding space in the mountain cave, his wings breaking his fall before he took a flight. The cave they used as a hiding place was spacious but shallow, only hidden away by a massive waterfall at the edge of the valley.

But water wasn’t something that would bother a dragon… unlike a human on this cold, rainy night.

Once outside, the dragon soared high up in the dark sky, the first traces of dawn already illuminating the very edge of a vast horizon.

According to the mark, the human didn’t go far. How could he? He had no wings to carry him around.

Despite his immense talent for use of ice powers, the Foreseer was still just a human-

The dragon could feel his heart fastening, his face contorting in a shape he didn’t recognize. Was he angry? Why?

Because his prey managed to run away? Because he was outsmarted by a mere human-

The beast’s flight came to a sudden halt, his crimson eyes focused on a single dark dot in the vast field of sand and stones.

Found you, he thought before plummeting towards the ground.

There was no doubt he’ll manage to catch up to the human, his wings were simply too powerful for any human or animal to outrun them… except, this human didn’t seem like he was running.

In fact… he wasn’t even moving at all.

He was merely sitting there, resembling a motionless statue carved by a passionate artist, allowing the rain to completely drench him.

The dragon landed softly, all of his anger instantly turning into bewilderment.

His long robes became even darker in color as the cold rain slid down his body, his hair which was usually tied in a low ponytail coming almost completely undone.

With his head lowered, he looked rather small from the dragon’s perspective. Fragile, almost…

“You thought I had run away, didn’t you?” the human’s voice was measured as always, not even turning his head to look at his captor.

The dragon chuckled before finally approaching the human, aware that his own voice had a small tinge of tremble in it as he spoke: “You’ve ventured a bit too far, little Snowflake. You should have known I’d react”

The Foreseer let out a breathy chuckle, his face unchanging “How could I forget? Your bite was rather painful, too” he reminded, only slightly turning his left hand to showcase the bite mark left on his robes.

The dragon chuckled again, rather proud of his work as his tall figure stopped besides the sitting human.

“Why are you sitting here? In the rain, no less…”

A faint smile appeared on the Foreseer’s lips, only one of his index fingers pointing towards something the dragon didn’t notice so far.

Only a couple of feet in front of them, two stones were posted upwards, letters and numbers carved into them like scars.

“Graves?” the dragon asked, the human only humming in response.

“Whose?” the beast demanded this time, suddenly feeling the man’s green gaze on him.

“My parents” he admitted “They’ve passed away about thirty years after I left the village… and after my departure, I’ve never seen them again”

A tinge of something painful suddenly gripped at the dragon’s heart, the beast attempting to ignore it by remaining cold and resolute.

Still, the said coldness didn’t mean he couldn’t be polite…

“My condolences…” he said, barely managing to remember the words humans used to comfort someone who had lost a loved one to death.

What he didn’t expect… was a bitter, broken chuckle.

“No need for that” the Foreseer said after a moment “Why would I mourn people who have abandoned me?...”

Heaviness suddenly overtook the dragon’s chest, a sensation he was unable to ignore.

He slowly lowered himself next to the human, folding in his wings in an attempt to not push him.

“Then…” he murmured, looking intently towards the man next to him “Why do you look like you’re about to shed tears?”

Another bitter chuckle escaped the Foreseer’s lips, but this time, it really seemed like he was about to cry as he whispered:

“I’m… mourning a child I used to be before getting this forsaken power…” the human looked towards the sky, heavy rain drops falling onto his face “Since getting captured by you… it’s like I’ve found a long-lost peace… and this place had just reminded me of what I used to have… of what I could’ve been if…. If Astra hasn’t chosen me…”

The dragon frowned, completely at the loss for words. Until now, you used to call your god Almighty or Merciful…

Without even noticing he was moving, one of dragon’s wings extended, their leathery consistency acting as a perfect shield from the heavy rain.

The human gasped at the sight, giving dragon a rather puzzled look “Why would-”

“I know you’re not bothered by cold” the beast murmured, removing a stray strand of hair from the man’s cheek “But you can still get sick.”

The two looked at each other for a moment, only a sound of falling rain filling the void this moment had created.

Dragon didn’t understand why he did this… what was the benefit of doing it… but something about seeing this hurt expression on the Foreseer’s face made him feel incredibly uneasy.

Almost like… his chest was about to cave in…

“Shall we go back?” the dragon prompted, offering his scaly hand.

The human didn’t even hesitate in taking his hand this time, his gaze lowered.

“Zayne…”

The dragon frowned, tilting his head “Excuse me?”

“You may call me Zayne…” he repeated, looking dragon in the eyes “So, please drop that awful nickname…”

For a moment, the beast was completely dumbfounded… only to be overtaken by laughter a second later. It’s been a while since he’d laughed like that, from the depth of his stomach, like a joyous child…

“Alright then… Zayne” the dragon purred as he said the man’s name, the Foreseer’s jaw clenching as he heard that.

A few moments later, the duo had taken off towards their hiding spot, the rain slowly subsiding as they reached their destination. They were both drenched, but thankfully, the dragon still had some flame left for usage. They will both get dry in no time-

“How should I call you? You must have a name…” Zayne suddenly asked, the dragon turning to look at him.

He was already taking off his wet robes, the longer part of his hair falling down his pale and scarred back.

As he gulped heavily, the dragon chuckled “I don’t think you’d be able to say it out loud… it’s an ancient dragonic language, I don’t think humans could ever understand it”

“Try me” the man challenged, fully turning towards the dragon.

Amused, the beast approached him and raised one of his hands, a few ancient letters appearing as small flaming stones floating above his palm.

Zayne frowned, inching slightly closer to the letters as his eyes squinted. The dragon had to give him credit for trying, his enthusiasm rather amusing-

“You’re right, it’s impossible to read in the dragonic language” Zayne admitted with a chuckle “But… there is a way to translate it into ours, as far as I remember”

“Oh?” the dragon’s eyebrows raised “And what would my name be when said in your human language?”

The Foreseer stood there for a moment, silent and with his finger scratching his own chin.

Then, with a victorious yet faint smile, he announced: “Sylus… Your name would be Sylus”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

New update will be on weekend of 29th-30th of March! See you then and thank you for reading!

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT CHAPTER

TAG LIST: @rafayelsplushiekiller @jasmines-greentea @nezuswritingdesk @angelwhizpers @katiralovely @nothoughts-justzayne @zarakem @saltyobservationcheesecake

SMALL EDIT HERE: I'll update a weekend later, April 5th or 6th, I had a medical emergency, I'm ok! See you this weekend and thanks for waiting!

[darkplaces27]

They've just won Winterfell. Ramsey is dead. The Lannisters aren't chasing them and it's finally... quiet.

This may be the 3AM brain talking but I've often thought about what makes this moment special. Yes it has romantic connotations (especially if viewed out of context) but it's also so much more than that.

The last time they experienced this was before Jon went to the Wall and Sansa went to King's Landing and the world turned on it's head.

We've seen these two characters go to hell and back since then (quite literally). They've constantly had the odds stacked against them. They've lived and died in a thousand different ways. But they have also survived. Usually alone but eventually alongside each other.

And now they find themselves in this moment. This moment where they are finally safe. They are finally free. Most importantly, they're home.

It's a curious mix of emotions as Jon seems to acknowledge that by reaching out and pressing a long kiss against Sansa's forehead. Maybe he's happy, maybe he's sad they're the only two Starks present here, or maybe he's just grateful to have been able to keep his promise to her.

On Sansa's part, while she seems to go to Jon willingly, you can also see the wariness in her eyes. What does Jon want?

Which begs the question, when was the last time someone was this gentle with her?

Sansa's body is battleworn, still carrying the bruises from Joffrey, Littlefinger, and Ramsey. Everytime she's been touched, it's been a new tale of abuse. The girl that dreamt of marrying princes and having babies is long gone. Sansa has been hardened by time and carved by tragedy.

"No one can protect me. No one can protect anyone," she had insisted.

But when Jon touches Sansa, he doesn't see her as a thing to torture. He just sees her. Sansa. It's as simple and confounding as that.

Sansa, in turn, looks at Jon waiting for the illusion of his kindess to fade and yet... nothing happens. No one twists her arm, no one strips her of her clothes and throws her on the floor, no one tries to hurt her.

Sansa isn't a means to an end to Jon. She's not a plaything to be turned inside out once she's fulfilled her purpose.

Sansa is Sansa.

It's a beautiful callback to when she had defended Jon against Brienne. She'd been reminding her protector that Jon wasn't Joffrey or Ramsey or any of the men who had abused her so. Jon was Jon.

And as she sees Jon look at her without expectation and accepts his affection and promises, she realizes it's true.

Jon will never be the men who've destroyed her body and held her captive in their personal prison of pain. Jon will always be Jon. She can trust him.

gif cr: @annaboleyne, owner.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Do you really love me?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Brief smut, Minors DNI, G!P Donna, reader POV, slightly dark themes, fluff, angst

Word count: 4,298

Summary: I love you, Donna, do you really love me?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open, I'm waiting yours! I love you all!!!

I just wanted to understand you, Donna. I just wanted you to love me as much as I did.

I've been living with you for a long time, and I decided to take that step in our relationship. I really don't know what kind of relationship we have, but the only thing I know is that I love you. I love you with all my soul.

You were always so strange...

I worked selling the vegetables that my family grew. I'm still not sure if I'm grateful or regretful about the day I approached your house. I met you with your hidden beauty, with your inability or lack of desire to communicate, but still, you asked me to come back, you always asked me to come back.

Falling in love with you was easy. Understand you was not.

You were surprised when I said there was no beauty comparable to yours, you yelled at me, you threatened me and you lost your mind. But I remained firm in my thoughts, in my statements, no matter how much you denied that they were true. That kiss, that kiss that I stole from you when you grabbed my dress, forcing me to say that you were a monster, that the truth of my words was just an illusion, was what made me want to spend the rest of my life with you. Always so subtle and mysterious, you let yourself be carried away by the caresses that my lips made on yours.

And so time went by. I came back to your house, to kiss you, just to kiss you, to see how your gaze got lost in mine, how your smile grew whenever I told you how beautiful you were. Everything seemed perfect, even with your few words, even with that distrustful and melancholic air that your sighs revealed.

I didn't want to leave your house anymore. I wanted to always be in your arms. I wanted to live in your kisses, in your smiles. Shy and ashamed, you never talked about your feelings until that day when the kisses lasted too long, lighting the fuse of your desire.

You were anxious, almost uncontrollable. You didn't care what I thought of your body. Mother Miranda made you like this, and I loved you, I love you just like the way you are.

The night I felt you inside me, when you took me in your bed, was also the first night you told me you loved me. A statement blurred by my moans, by the spasms that your movements caused me, by the pain of your nails digging into my skin. I didn't care about the circumstances, just about those three words, those words that sounded like a divine song on your lips.

Maybe I was too blinded by your beauty, by your perfume, by the softness of your skin. Maybe I was so blinded by your light that I was unable to see your darkness.

Time went by, your caresses, your kisses continued. Every night you loved me with passion, you took me with hunger, your hands didn’t leave a single corner of my body to explore. Your I love you, ti amo were the soundtrack that rhythmically accompanied your moans, mine, the rhythmic creaking of the wood.

I lived in a cloud of kisses and hugs, of caresses... But, it didn't take me long to realize a truth that I hadn't thought about. When I hugged your body naked, exhausted, tired and full of you, I felt that the emptiness in my heart is so great that I cannot ignore it anymore.

Yes, I was with you, but for some reason, I felt your absence, I felt that you were not as close to me as I thought.

Yes, you loved me, but you didn't show it beyond the nights of passion, beyond your desire throbbing between my legs. I didn't want to doubt your love, but I started to do it, I started to feel no more than one of those dolls you made. A porcelain doll that a little girl uses to play with and then puts away in a corner, causing it to collect dust. Feeling absent when you're so close began to become torture.

One afternoon, after walking around the house, with nothing to do but avoid Angie's constant teasing, I decided to get closer to you. It was a strange hour, when you used to be busy, always so busy...

“Donna, honey...” I whispered in your ear, hugging you while you read at your desk. You always studied plants, the ability they had to be manipulated by your strange power. Had you manipulated me too?

“Mm?” You murmured, grabbing the hand that was around your chest and tilting your head so that it brushed against mine. Your gaze was still fixed on the book. I couldn't help but think I was bothering you.

“Hey... I was thinking...” I whispered, placing a soft kiss on your neck. “The sky seems clear… Tonight we could take a walk…”

“A walk?” You asked, stopping reading that boring plant book. You weren't even looking at me, but at least your hand was still attached to mine.

“Yes, you know... Walking hand in hand, looking at the stars...” I said, knowing that, as I suspected, you weren't happy with the idea. You never liked a plan other than making love until you were exhausted.

“It's cold,” you said dryly, pushing me a bit to let you go. Why did you want to take me away from you?

I wasn't going to give up so easily.

“Well, we'll cover ourselves,” I said amused, ignoring your intention to ignore my words.

“I prefer to stay at home,” you replied, looking at me out of the corner of your eye and shaking your head, returning to your stupid book.

I had been losing patience for a while, missing your love, wishing that you could love me the way I wish you would, that you loved me in and out of bed, that your words of love were not linked to our passion.

“You know what? Fine, Donna. Whatever. I don't know why I insist,” I said angry, rabid, wanting to scream, wanting to grab you by the shoulders and ask why you weren't capable of loving me the same way I did.

I wanted to leave, leave you alone in that huge room. But your rough grip on my wrist prevented me from doing so. I huffed, hissing in pain from the strength of your grip. You can't control yourself, Donna...

“What's wrong with you? What is that tone of yours about?” You asked with a frown. You didn't even understand the reason for my anger. I didn't know why I still loved you.

“There's nothing wrong with me,” I said, getting out of your grip and moving away from you definitively. I don't know why I would want to tell you what I thought. It wasn't going to help. “I'm going to make dinner. You just… Just continue with your plants.”

You stood up furious, with a face that was a mix of confusion and anger. It wasn't the first time I had seen it. I ignored you and went down the elevator.

While I was cutting the vegetables that I brought myself, sobs took over my voice. Tears began to run down my cheeks. I loved you so much... And I was increasingly sure that you didn't feel the same way about me.

“Why are you so…?” I asked myself.

My heart was yours, but your heart... Your heart was nobody's, it was locked deep in your chest. No one could even afford to get close to it, not even me. If only you would tell me how you feel, if only you would hold me at night instead of me doing it... If only you would show me that I am more than just a toy for you...

I wiped away a tear after a long sigh, carrying the vegetables to the other part of the counter. Before I could react, I felt a pressure on my waist. They were your hands, your soft hands holding my body, your head resting on my shoulder as you held me. When had you arrived?

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, hugging my waist tightly, pressing me against your body. Did you even know what you were sorry about? I doubt it.

“Calm down, Donna. Everything is fine,” I lied, closing my eyes for your heavenly hug, enjoying the incomparable sensation that your unexpected hugs produced in me.

“I don’t want you to be sad. I don't like when you’re sad...” you whispered, keeping me very close to you.

Your voice in my ear caused chills in my body, that accent of yours drove me crazy. My tears didn't want to stop. I held your hands tightly as our bodies swayed.

“Donna, I...” I said, sobbing and slowly turning around as your hands moved to my back. Your look wasn't cold. It was curious, a bit sad. You didn't know what had made me cry, why the sobs became more and more frequent when we were together.

“I love you so much...” I said, giving up and throwing myself into your arms. I didn't expect you to return my affection, but you did, you hugged me back.

“Hey, hey, come on... Don't cry,” you said, rubbing my back while my hands hung on your dress. “What’s wrong?”

“It's just that I... I don't know if...” I said stammering, not wanting to separate myself from your arms, enjoying that sudden and rare display of affection. “I don't know if you love me.”

“What?” You asked startled, turning away abruptly. Your gaze grew cold, like those times when you lost your mind for no reason. “Why do you say so?”

“I don't know, Donna, I... I don't feel... Loved...” I confessed, moving a bit away from your trembling body. Your breathing became dangerously fast.

“Don't you feel loved? What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, changing your seemingly understanding attitude to an angry one, to a dangerous gleam in your eye.

“I don't know, Donna, I…” I stammered backing away until my back was against the counter. I felt cornered. Were you unable to understand me?

Surely because of the abrupt tone you used, you relaxed, knowing that, once again, you were scaring me. I couldn't know what your disturbed mind was thinking, what kind of paranoia you were imagining.

“Come here,” you ordered in a soft voice, opening your arms. I couldn't resist more hugs from you. I was unable to resist you.

You hugged me lovingly, resting my head on your chest and surrounding it with your hands. That's what I needed, Donna. I needed your love, your affection. That was all I needed and you, you were incapable of giving it to me.

“Let me show you how much I love you...” You whispered before lifting my chin and kissing my lips slowly, softly, tenderly, apparently far from any ulterior motive. If I didn't know you, I would have believed you, I would have believed that you did it because you were going to change your attitude, because you were going to love me just the way I needed.

But I've been with you for a long time, Donna. I knew what you were like.

I kissed you. I clung to your waist. It was a tender, innocent kiss that stopped being so very soon. Your hands roamed my chest as your kisses intensified. I could have stopped you, slapped you and made you let my body go. I didn’t want to do it. I was addicted to your kisses, to your caresses. My stupid desire was stronger than the will to make that I am not an object clear to you.

“I'm going to love you...” You whispered as you slowly turned me around, forcing my hands to rest against the counter. I felt your eager body against mine, your soft caresses, your kisses on the back of my neck while you separated my legs.

I closed my eyes, letting your hands get into my dress, my underwear being snatched from me, sliding down my ankles.

“Donna... Please,” I said, panting when I noticed your erection against my body, when I felt how much you wanted to do it. I couldn't tell if I was asking you not to do it, or not to stop. The sadness was still inside me, but my body was only capable of feeling your skin against mine. Maybe it was my fault, for letting you drive me crazy, for stopping me from being myself, from speaking, from trying to understand why you did the things you did.

Your hands separated from my body and your kisses relaxed. I knew what you were doing. I know that your clothes were bothering you, that you wanted desperately to take me with the poor excuse of showing me that you loved me.

You lowered the black fabric that prevented you from connecting directly with my skin while I desperately tried to resist your heat. I didn't make any effort, I let you spread my legs even further, and I moaned when I felt you inside me.

You did it slowly, but that didn't make it an act of love. At least for me, did you really consider loving me mean to have sex with me? It was something I hadn't thought about, but that my head did from time to time. Maybe it wasn't your fault. Maybe it was mine for not stopping to think about what you thought love was or what love meant to you.

You moved your hips slowly, making my body adapt to yours, making my walls hug you as if they were completely independent. My body loved you, Donna, I loved you.

“Sei bellisima... Ti amo...” You gasped in my ear, surrounding my body with your hands. If you only knew how empty those words sounded, how little by little they stopped producing that knot in my stomach.

Do you really need to fuck me to tell me those things? I was beginning to think about that theory, the theory that you, Donna Beneviento, lord of Mother Miranda, lonely and strange woman, didn’t know how to truly love. Could I blame you for that? I still wasn't sure.

“Donna...” I moaned when I felt your soft kisses on my neck, when the rhythm of your hips combined with your caresses. You clung to my body as if you were going to lose it and mine, mine just enjoyed it.

“My love...” You sighed, putting a hand on my head to lower it, so that my body was more accessible to you. “Your body feels… So good…”

Yours too

That's what my confused mind thought. The shy moans that came out of my mouth revealed that I was enjoying it, that my body wanted more and more of you. I let myself be carried away by desire. I stopped thinking about my worries for a moment. I shouldn't have gotten carried away, but I did. My body hugged you tirelessly, my hips moved in time with yours, forcing you to stay inside me as long as possible. I couldn't, I didn't want to, but you were about to push me over the edge, once again.

Your gasps became messy and the soft hands and kisses on my neck stopped. Your nails grabbed my waist under my dress while you moved me your way. There were no more seductive words in Italian, no more I love you, or anything. Only moans, only gasps that betrayed your lack of self-control.

Your body trembled and you leaned into mine as your heat invaded my core. You stayed hugged to me, not letting a drop of your seed leave my body. You kept me close. You stayed inside me, as if you wanted to make something clear to me. What? How was I supposed to know?

“Cara mia...” You sighed, leaving me free after kissing my shoulder, turning me around. I was enjoying it, but I couldn't let my body shake, my back arch in an orgasm that seemed inevitable. I liked it, Donna, but for some reason my eyes really wanted to cry.

I put on my clothes, letting your heat pass through my panties because I was in a hurry to stop feeling exposed. Your smile made me angry. It made me feel a fire inside me that was fighting to burn you.

“You see? I love you,” you said tenderly, caressing my wet cheek. When that tear made contact with your skin, your face changed and your brow furrowed. “Why are you crying? You didn’t like it?”

“You don't understand, do you?” I hissed, pushing your hand away from my face and shoving you roughly by the shoulders. “This is not what I want, Donna!” I screeched, pushing you away when you tried to get closer. If you only knew how much I suffered taking you away from me...

“What? Why are you yelling at me?” You asked, blinking in shock. “What have I done wrong?”

I growled desperately, not understanding your confused attitude. You weren't an idiot, Donna. I knew you weren’t.”

“What have you done wrong? What have you done right, Donna?” I asked back, walking towards you. I felt angry, furious, powerful… I felt that I could intimidate you, without thinking about the consequences.

“I don't understand you,” you stuttered when your back was cornered by a wall. “Don’t, don't talk to me like that, please...”

Were you scared? Good.

“I'm fed up, Donna. What do you think I am? A doll, an object? A toy for your cock? Tell me, what am I?!”

“You're making me nervous,” you said, shaking your head, breathing hard. No, your mental problems were not going to help you at all. If you were going to have a crisis, so be it. Today I regret having thought that way.

“Answer me, damn it! Don’t play the fool!” I yelled, hitting the wall right next to your head. Your whole body trembled with terror, your breathing became more and more complicated and your hands pulled your hair tightly.

“No... No... Shut up, shut up!” You squeaked nervously, closing your eye so as not to look at me. At that moment I came to my senses, but I still wanted answers, or rather, I wanted to tell you what I thought.

“Do you love me?” I asked with a cold voice, not feeling all the pity I wanted to feel when I saw you lose your nerve.

“I...Io...” You stammered, unable to look at my face.

“Come on, speak clearly, it's not that difficult,” I said with a mocking smile, removing my hands from your hair so that you wouldn't hurt yourself. “Donna, look at me. Look at my face and tell me you love me.”

You looked at me, you opened your eye to look at me. You were crying, you were shaking. You were broken because of me, because of you.

“I just showed you that I love you...” You said, recovering your breath, separating yourself from the wall.

“What? You mean fucking me on the counter? Yes, so much love...” I said ironically causing you to shake your head, again with that confused look.

“Isn't that enough for you?” You asked. It wasn't a joke, you asked seriously.

“Of course it’s not. Do you think that making love is the only way to love someone?”

“It's the only way I know,” you said in your defense, making you nervous again.

That phrase stuck in my heart, making me make the most horrible decision of my life.

“I understand, Donna,” I said, nodding, sighing and pushing away the tears that didn’t stop running down my cheek. “Well let me tell you something…”

I got a bit closer, just a bit closer. You retreated in vain, you were trapped between my body and the wall.

“You have no idea about love, or loving someone. You don't know what it's like to walk hand in hand with the person you love, laugh with them, cry with them. No, you only know how to do what your body asks of you. And you think that's love? How wrong I was about you.”

“Wait... Wait...” You said when I turned around, ready to leave the kitchen, to leave your house forever. “Please, please... Don't leave...”

“Why?” I asked, waiting for an answer that would convince me to let my heart stop me from walking away from you. “Come on, Donna, why don't you want me to leave? There are many girls in the village, I'm sure they would be willing to spread their legs for you.”

“Don't say that... Don't talk about me that way!” You screamed, now, enraged, desperate, grabbing my arm to prevent me from moving  away.

“That's what you've shown me,” I said confidently, breaking free from your grip. “Come on, Donna. Tell me why you don't want me to leave... Come on, tell me! Or I swear you'll never see me again.”

“Don't do this to me,” you sobbed, hurting me with your nails on my arm.

“Well, say it, say what you feel!”

“I don't want you to leave because... Because I love you!”

I stopped for a moment. I wish that had been enough for me.

“You're... You're right... I... I don't know how to love... I've never fallen in love with anyone and you... I...” You said nervously, loosening your grip. I wish it had worked for me. “I didn't know what to do.”

“You didn't know what to do?” I asked, changing my anger for curiosity.

“I had never felt those things... I had never dared to let someone love me,” you continued explaining, mysteriously embarrassed by something. “So… I… I asked someone for advice.”

“Advice?” I asked strangely. You nodded

“Someone... told me what I should do. Someone told me that you probably didn't want to do... Well, all those romantic things in movies. That she knew you and you were not… Not a… Um… Cheesy girl.”

An amused smile inevitably formed on my face. I wanted to leave, I really did, but for some reason, I started to think that it wasn't your fault, but someone else's.

“Cheesy?” I asked amused, stamping my feet on the ground impatiently.

“Yes... I... She told me that was out of fashion, that girls nowadays just needed... Well, you know... She told me that if I wanted you to love me, I should act that way.”

I couldn't help but laugh, to which you frowned, offended.

“Please, Donna...” I said laughing, cupping your face with my hands. Your look betrayed a terrible shame. “Who is the stupid girl who told you that?”

“Da, Da, Daniela,” you admitted, head down, unable to look at my face.

“Daniela? Daniela Dimitrescu?” I asked with a frown, sighing. I finally understood everything. Damn big mouth vampire, she almost ruined my relationship. You nodded again, raising your hands to mine, caressing me in that tender way, in that way that I wanted so much. “Did you ask Daniela Dimitrescu for advice?”

“I don't see where the fun is. Don’t, don't make fun of me,” you said embarrassed, removing my hands from your face and crossing your arms.

“How do you think about listening to her? She doesn't know me that much... I only bring her vegetables,” I said amused, taking your hands again, which refused to let go.

“That's what she told me. I had no reason not to listen to her,” you said defensively.

“Well, I'm going to give you one reason,” I said, throwing myself at your lips, kissing you happily, discovering that you were not the horrible person you made me believe you were. “I love you, Donna,” I whispered into your lips, while you kissed me back. The salt from our tears gave it a sad touch, but also intense.

“I love you, I love you,” you stammered, resting your forehead on mine.

“Listen to me, Donna... Be yourself, okay? You are a wonderful woman, I know you are,” I said, stroking your black hair. “Act the way your heart tells you.”

“I want... I want to make you feel loved... I want, I want to kiss you all the time. I want to hug you. I want to make you mine, but only if you want it too and... I want to tell you that I love you for hours...”

I smiled satisfied. The woman I had fallen in love with was right there in front of me. All the regret, the suffering that her attitude had caused me, was the result of bad advice. Surely Daniela also needed someone to love. But first, Donna.

“No more advice, uh?”  I said amused when, finally, I could see a smile on your face as you shook your head. “Come on, let's do something together, something romantic. Do you want to?”  I asked, ending that absurd argument.

“Yes, I, I really want to... For a long time,” you said, sighing, caressing my face, kissing me lovingly, with no other intentions. You just wanted to love me like I deserved, right? How stupid I have been.

“Well, let's do it then,” I said, hanging from your neck, without stopping kissing you.

“That you said before...” You murmured, speaking with difficulty due to my kisses. “That thing about walking under the stars…”

“Oh, you mean that cheesy thing?” I answered amused, making you roll your eye, embarrassed.

“I would really like to...” You said whispering, resting your forehead on mine again.

“Me too, Donna, me too...”

[markantonys]

s3 trailer mini-analysis

a LOT of this trailer seems to be either standard rand-in-the-waste stuff that's exactly what i expected to be happening this season or moiraine AU visions that don't tell us anything about the season's goings-on in Reality, so i'm just going to ponder a handful of shots that are currently intriguing me!

i've zoomed in on this wideshot of two people talking in the tower, and also added brightness and color enhancement. the seated figure appears to be wearing red and the other figure white. my current suspicion is that this is lanfear talking to liandrin, or, wild shot, elaida - i can't tell if the lighter blobs over the red figure's shoulders are blonde hair or just part of an outfit. but the white figure does seem like a lanfear-y silhouette to me! if true, this could maaaaybe point to lanfear getting involved with the white tower to set her up to absorb mesaana later; or it could just be her having a chat with her minion liandrin early in the season before liandrin heads off to tanchico and gets wrapped up with moggy.

closeup of the big room with 3 statues. the outfits of the group on the left make me wonder if this could be an age of legends scene in rand's glass columns sequence - they look similar to what LTT and other male aes sedai have worn in the flashbacks in the first 2 seasons. but i'm not sure what to make of the group of walkers on the right!

rand and egwene in a location that seems waste-y. they both look surprised, which makes me wonder if this is some kind of dreamworld fuckery; maybe they unexpectedly crossed paths in TAR, or maybe egwene unexpectedly managed to physically transport herself to the waste via dreamworld fuckery. it's giving:

next up!

elayne and min both sporting hair-wraps. could it be that they're in tanchico together and hair-wraps are the style there? or it could just be coincidence and not a sign of a shared location. i'm surprised by how long min's hair is, but i wonder if that indicates some version of her elmindreda disguise making it in? but also, how could so much time have passed between seasons for her hair to grow that much? rand and egwene's hair is both only a little longer than their s2 chops, i think. maybe min's hair actually ends just below her shoulders and it's only the angle here that gives it the illusion of being even longer.

mat in a frustratingly nondescript location (i brightened it up in hopes of revealing architectural details, but nah). his neck is definitely injured, and surely if mat has an injured neck in s3, it HAS to be from hanging. but i can't judge whether it looks like a fresh wound or a semi-healed, scarring wound. brightening the shot did reveal that he seems to have a nice pattern on his shirt/robe/coat, good for him!

presumably rand having a channeling explosion in what appears to be a reasonably nice bedroom at night. this one really intrigues me because i think it's just about the only shot of rand that isn't part of the waste or an AU vision (at least, i assume this is reality), and thus perhaps the only shot we have of the very start of the season when the gang is all still together, as they reportedly are. it would make sense to me for rand to have some channeling disaster early in the season to set up his storyline of needing a channeling teacher at any cost, even if it's a forsaken.

and now, what you've all been waiting for, window architectural style analysis!

first, elayne with the crown is definitely white tower windows with that almost floral pattern. why is elayne putting on a crown in the white tower while wearing her novice dress? i doubt she'd have one kicking around in her luggage. did her brothers and/or elaida bring it with them for some reason? is it actually a (ter')angreal? is this a dream sequence, or an AU within her or egwene's accepted test?

now more windows to try and figure out where people are in mysterious shots. left to right: the windows behind rand as he's having a channeling explosion; tiny fragment of the window behind mat; the window to elayne's right in the shot of her with the hair-wrap.

overall i can conclude [drumroll]..........nothing! none of them seem like white tower windows, at least, and rand's window and elayne's window are definitely different from each other (no surprise there, since my guesses for the two shots are 3x01 location & tanchico respectively). if i had to pick, i'd say mat's window looks more similar to elayne's and thus that shot might be him in tanchico, but it's impossible to say since we don't get a good look at his window.

although, if i compare to falme, could it potentially be a somewhat-similar style of ceiling beams with a semi-circle of holes for the top of a window underneath? haha probably not, at this point i'm just reaching to try and invent evidence for my "mat finds the doorway in 3x01 and rand is around to give him cpr" hopes. who knows if falme will even be their starting location anyway!

after all, rand's window, which i hazard a guess is in the starting location, doesn't match falme windows. nor does it match tar valon or cairhien windows. perhaps it's a new location - like caemlyn? maybe they all arrive there in 3x01 and meet elayne's fam, then perrin heads off to the two rivers, rand heads off to the waste, and elaida carts the girls back to the tower with the brothers (and maybe mat?) in tow (so potentially the girls going back against their will rather than choosing to go back - i do have somewhat of a hard time imagining them voluntarily going back now that there are more important things than school to worry about, unless perhaps they decide to go back in order to warn siuan about the black ajah. but i'm sure i'll have more wondergirls speculation later since them being at the tower was definitely my biggest surprise of the trailer and i need to mull it over some more!)

stray thoughts

where is gawyn? is he safe? is he all right? they are edging me BIG time with him, goddamn! we saw galad and faile in the trailer, but they were the ones we already had the castings for anyway! gawyn is the one whose existence we need evidence of!!!! my fears of a Brother Merge are returning even though i know it's absurd since they namedropped gawyn in s2 while the brother we saw in the trailer is clearly galad and was named galad on the actor's CV.

me: all the marketing materials will be geared towards show-onlys and thus rooted in relationships we know from the first 2 seasons rather than revealing too many new relationships also me: [panics over all the focus in the trailer & interview on rand's relationships with moiraine/egwene/lanfear with nary a hint of him meeting elayne and avi]

but of COURSE they wouldn't be giving away anything on the avirandlayne front already haha so this is only logical! we've only seen a tiny fraction of rand's season activities; plenty of time for him to be hanging out with avi and elayne (and his friends!) in scenes we haven't yet gotten glimpses of. rand-moiraine and rand-lanfear were his biggest dynamics in s2, which makes me impatient to see his other dynamics return (or get created) in s3, but it also means that those are the dynamics it's most sensible to focus on for early promo.

i am quite surprised there wasn't a single shot of avi in the trailer (bar a potential wideshot of her from behind) since she IS a returning character whom show-onlys would recognize, but then, even characters who've had a bigger role than her thus far (such as 3/5 emond's fielders) only got 1-2 shots; the focus was definitely on rand, moiraine, and lanfear in this trailer, with a touch of egwene as well.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Related to your previous posts about the Love Square, how long do you think was too long, waiting for a reveal? Because 5, now 6 seasons, over a span of ten years, I think it's reasonable to say that's too long to try and keep the hype train chugging, but was there a specific point you feel the reveal should have happened, or alternatively, a point of no return where you realized it never would?

While I wish the square was revealed by now, the issue with the square reveal is not that they've drawn it out too long. The issue is that they've given the secret identities too much narrative weight for them to still be a thing. Generally speaking, you don't want to make a secret like this a major focus of your long running show if you aren't planning to address the secret until the bitter end. That's not satisfying for your audience.

There are lots of well-loved stories that draw out a reveal for absurdly long periods of time, but those stories make the wait work by keeping the stakes minor. In these stories, the secret is limited to being a source of comedy or minor mishaps. When you do that, you keep the secret from feeling like a ticking time bomb that needs to be addressed.

A great example is the fact that Clark Kent is Superman. In every version of that story, the audience wants someone in the cast to learn the secret, but so long as the secret isn't hurting anyone, there's no sense of urgency to the reveal. It will happen when it happens and, in the meantime, we can enjoy the shenanigans that come with secret identities. Spy X Family is another solid example. That show is full of crazy secrets, but it's told in a way where the secrets aren't hurting anyone so it doesn't feel like reveals need to happen for the story to be satisfying. A reveal might actually be a bad thing there because reveals would either end the show or dramatically alter it since its main focus is on the secrets leading to insane scenarios.

Miraculous has obviously not gone those routes. The secret identities aren't a major focus of most episodes and the lack of an identity reveal has caused some major problems for our characters. That means that the reveal has too much narrative weight for the writers to draw it out for seasons on end. The biggest example of the secrets causing problems was the season four final where Marinette only lost because there hadn't been an identity reveal. Season four also ends with Ladybug promising to trust Chat Noir more and with Adrien fully aware that Ladybug only lost the miraculous because Felix was impersonating him. Those are some bold moves to make if you're not going to follow them up with a reveal in the next season. Way too much narrative weight for a setup with no payoff!

For me, a reasonable time frame for season four's ending to payoff was the first few episodes of season five. By the time we reached Illusion, I was no longer excited for the reveal because we were too far from the setup for the payoff to work. By the time we got the end of Kwami's Choice, I gave up on the reveal being even remotely satisfying. I'm not totally sure when I fully gave up on the reveal being in season five because I stopped caring about anything after Derision. I do remember thinking that it would happen before the final fight because the final fight wouldn't be satisfying if it didn't include Adrien and Gabriel revealing and it's hard to do that while keeping Marinette in the dark.

In other words, if there was a time to do a reveal, season five was it. It's basically the only way to tell a good story while honoring season four's ending. If Ladybug and Chat Noir can go through that and still decide to keep identities a secret, then what needs to happen to make a reveal worth it? I've got no idea and that means that I can't get invested in the story anymore. It's officially jumped the shark.

Another issue is the fact that they keep giving other characters identity reveals, massively cheapening the love square reveal. I've mentioned before that I can justify Ladybug and Chat Noir keeping their identities a secret pretty easily, but that justification only works if the rules are applied to the whole crew and they haven't been. If Alya can know Ladybug's identity even though the supervillains know that Alya was an active hero, then no identity reveal is off the table. The fact that Alya was revealed to the villains three times (Rena Rouge, Rena Furtive, and Scarabella) without serious long-term consequences makes it impossible to see the love square reveal as a bad thing. Two of those reveals happened after she knew Marinette's identity!!!

Of course, it's not just Alya who knows. At this point, half of Paris knows that Marinette is Ladybug and there have been a handful of other reveals that seemed to go fine, so what's holding our heroes back outside of the hand of the author? I can't think of a single thing. The fact that Nathalie, Felix, and Gabriel all got to know before Adrien is insulting especially since none of those reveals were treated as bad things. Gabriel learning was the closest thing to a Ladybug reveal going wrong, but it was just used to add lackluster hype to the final fight so it's hard to view it as meaningfully bad.

[lunareiitic]

HSR 1.6 SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED

I saw a discussion on Reddit earlier where someone talked about how gracious Herta is to Ruan Mei and felt that the plot shows that Ruan Mei is taking advantage of her and I felt like... it's not a bad conclusion to draw from the text but. It feels not correct. Like yes, Herta essentially does let RM do whatever she wants, especially with regards to the space station, and RM doesn't seem to be very thankful for it. (Setting aside the fact that it isn't really Herta's space station. Asta's the one who bankrolls and manages it. It's just got Herta's name on it. Herta is just as uncaring to the researchers lmao) But to call RM a "passive manipulator" (yes, I saw this take too) of her and nothing more I think... overlooks both of their personalities? Taking into account that both of these characters are essentially confirmed autistic (go see the official post about the Genius Society, you can't make this up) their dynamic is a little tragic but very true-to-life.

Herta is loud, pushy, and bratty. She's like a cat- she doesn't take no for an answer and the moment you try to get her to do something she doesn't want to do she goes limp and useless. She admires Ruan Mei because she's nothing like her. And RM would never push Herta to do anything. RM doesn't push. She doesn't even really manipulate. The woman cannot lie to save her life. All she did was ask Herta if she could use part of the space station and Herta obliged, and it sounds like she'd been waiting for Ruan Mei to finally ask her for something. RM doesn't really have a malicious bone in her body. That's what makes her so terrifying. People are often just willing to do as she asks and she makes no pretenses or illusions about herself, her motives, or her life. The closest she gets to lying is just not answering when pressed. She is so socially inept she has to drug the trailblazer into silence so they'll help her. And I think this is... out of embarrassment? If it were me, an autistic bitch who cannot lie to save my life, I would want to do something similar. She knows she's gotten herself into a situation because she left the incubator on too long and then the space station got attacked, but admitting that to Herta would wound her pride and also cause friction between them. You can tell that she brought the Trailblazer into that Genius meeting because she was afraid Herta and Screwllum had caught on to her, and once she realizes that it's just them debating about (in her eyes) nothing, she lets the Trailblazer go. I've seen people call that "callous", as if she was dropping them as soon as they were not useful to her. But she says why she does it basically immediately- she thinks it would bore us and she has something else more important that she needs our help with.

I think the part of Ruan Mei's character that people are overlooking right now is that Ruan Mei does care. Look at the story bit for Genius' Repose, where she serves machine oil in a teacup for Screwllum and promises to send a box of homemade sweets to Herta's flesh-and-blood body. She's the kind of person who is actively thinking of her mother and her grandmother and their little home in the snow every time she eats something sweet. Her creations are literally desperate with love. Love, love, love, love. Love that feels alien to her, love that she can't put into words, love that her alexithymia won't let her ascertain and compartmentalize. Love that is as elusive and vexing and important as that spark of the divine soul she's been chasing all this time. She loves and she loves deeply, to the point of obsession. But she's in love with the past as much as Herta is- their signature light cones both have them reflecting on a past version of themselves that they know they cannot have back. She quite literally brought her mother back to life because she couldn't bear to break a promise to her late grandmother (who... somehow, is still waiting for her... somewhere). She's a deeply sentimental person. Haven't you ever looked at other people and felt, even for just a moment, that you are apart from them? That they have something you lack? What if you let that feeling consume you? Ruan Mei yearns for a world that she cannot touch because she's lost the trees in the greater forest of her mind. She feels the need to become god because she feels so utterly alienated from the world around her. But she can't escape herself, no matter how far she runs.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that Herta and Ruan Mei are friends, even if Ruan Mei doesn't feel that she's capable of it. It makes a lot of sense that they're both ice too, element ruled primarily by The Remembrance. I wonder how they both feel about that?