#but she plainly admitted to that and apologized for it

[writtendaydreamm]

The Hospital Gossip Mill

Summary: Y/n and Langdon try to keep their relationship a secret at work, but eventually get caught by their observant colleagues

Author's Note: Based on this submission. Had so much fun writing this, hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you guys think!

*Just put out a sort-of prequel to this! Check it out here

Ding

The elevator doors opened to the ED, and Y/n took a deep breath, bracing herself before stepping out. 

Looking at the hospital as one entity, the ED could be seen as the belly of the beast - but really the department was a beast in its own right. It was chaotic, loud, fast-paced, unpredictable. It was madness to put it plainly. But the team down here harnessed all that madness and used it to fuel their ingenuity and creativity. Now she’d never admit any of this out loud, and certainly not to any of the doctors down here - that would sound too much like praise or respect. 

What she will admit however is that it definitely takes a certain type of person to go into Emergency Medicine. One rotation in the ED back in med school was all it took for Y/n to decide it was not for her. She felt much more at home in General Surgery. Intense in a different way, the OR was high-pressure and high stakes, it demanded precision and endurance. And she loved every second of it.

Making her way across the floor to find Dr. Mohan, Y/n’s eyes also scanned around for any sight of another resident in particular who forgot his wallet at her apartment this morning. She had texted him to come pick it up during his lunch break, but considering it was now the tail end of their shift and he still hadn’t come up, she knew this was probably one of those days he didn't get a lunch break. 

Contemplating bringing it down with her after getting called to consult on Mohan’s abdominal trauma case, ultimately Y/n decided against it. It would be too obvious. Their relationship was still under wraps and she wanted to keep it that way. They didn’t need the hospital gossip mill catching any wind of something going on between her and Dr. Langdon. 

Focusing on the task at hand, she went over Mohan's call. The younger resident didn’t exactly deliver the case on a silver platter for her. The patient had no reliable history, incomplete imaging and a vague exam. Not to mention the patient was being combative enough to need restraints. 

This’ll be fun, Y/n scoffed to herself. 

From what Mohan could tell her, the patient is a 30-year-old male, took a fall during a manic episode, they got a FAST that’s equivocal and a borderline soft belly. There was some free fluid, so it could be a possible mesenteric bleed or the spleen. It could also possibly be nothing, just some muscle tension and a new patient for psych not surgery. 

Y/n won’t know for sure till she gets eyes and hands on it herself. 

—

“Just to confirm, CT incomplete, guarding when touched, and free fluid but no definitive source?”

“Correct,” Mohan nodded, they stood just outside the room. 

“Oh, well don’t make it too easy for me,” Y/n quipped sarcastically, before stepping in. 

Inside, she got her first look at their patient - alert but clearly agitated and restrained to the bed rails. Around the room were a few nurses, more than normal for a case like this. Surely just here to help restrain if he gets combative or aggressive again. 

“Hi Mr. Harvey, I’m Dr. L/n,” she introduced herself, slipping on a pair of gloves. “I’m just going to check your belly okay.”

Before Y/n could take another step closer, Mr. Harvey had already begun recoiling, pulling on his restraints, not wanting to be examined any further. Playing it cool and calm, Y/n held her hands up non threateningly. She spoke slowly hoping to soothe him just enough to get her hands on him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to find out what’s hurting you from the inside after your fall.” 

“I didn’t fall, I flew,” he corrected her indignantly.

“Right, my apologies,” she said, taking tentative steps forward, continuing to try and build trust with him. “The exam I'm going to perform might be uncomfortable, even painful, but I promise I will try to be as quick as I can. It’s the only way we can check for any internal injuries you sustained on your, uh, flight.”

Despite his face still contorting in a mixture of pain and defiance, the tension in his body seemed to ease. With the belts on his hand restraints slackened now, she figured this was as good as it was going to get. 

“I’m going to start my examination, alright Mr. Harvey? You’re going to need to stay as still as possible for me though.”

He didn’t respond, but laid still now. Taking that as permission, Y/n gave the nurses a silent signal to be ready to restrain him should the need arise before she proceeded to assess his abdominal quadrants. 

She leaned over Mr. Harvey slightly, gently but firmly palpating each quadrant starting furthest away from the area with reported pain. He was definitely tensing with the applied pressure, even starting to mumble incoherently in his discomfort. As she moved closer to the area Mohan had reported his pain was centered, he began to writhe and twist making it harder for Y/n to continue. But she went on anyway, asking him to remain calm. He probably couldn’t hear her though, the sound of his own voice going from mumbles to shouts drowning her out. She was about to press against his left lumbar region, and just the feeling of her nitrile glove brushing against his skin set him off. 

Kicking and screaming, pulling at his restraints trying to break himself free, Mr. Harvey was about to be a danger to himself if he continued like this. Mohan and the nurses stepped in. All four of them tried to hold him down so Y/n could finish her exam, but it only made things worse. Mr. Harvey thrashed even more violently now. Somehow in the heat of things he managed to get a hold of the IV line he was hooked up to and yanked on it, hard. 

“Dr. L/n, look out,” Mohan tried to warn her but it was too late. 

Before she could even process what Mohan said, Y/n felt a hard, cold piece of metal fall on her head with a thud. Loud clanking followed as the IV stand fell on the floor in front of her. 

“Fuck,” she grunted, the pain sending a cold wave of shock all over her body. Immediately putting pressure on the wound, she instructed everyone to get him under control. Pulling her hand back to check for bleeding, Y/n cursed again seeing her gloves covered in red.

From across the bed, Mohan’s eyes widened watching a trickle of blood drip down the side of Y/n’s forehead. “Oh damn, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m aware,” Y/n snapped in her frustration and pain. 

“Maybe you should step out, get that checked. I’ll call down for another consult-”

“I’m fine,” Y/n shook it off, ignoring the pulsing on her forehead. “We need to finish this exam now. If he needs the OR we can’t waste any more time.”

“It looks pretty bad,” Mohan winced, imagining the gash that must’ve been behind Y/n’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Y/n insisted, growing annoyed at the concern. This was just a little cut, she’ll manage. “Just get him under control so I can finish. And get me some gauze, please. Now.”

 —

Dropping off one of the tablets back at the nurse’s station, Langdon heard Mateo and Princess speaking in hushed tones which could only mean one thing - new gossip. While he tried to stay above the gossip and rumors, he just couldn’t help himself from listening in.

“Is it true one of the surgical residents got headbutted by that psych patient that came in earlier. The one talking about flying and shit.”

“No, I think it was a piece of equipment that hit her head,” Princess said, correcting Mateo.

“Well whatever it was, I heard she’s getting stitches.”

A premature smirk spread across Langdon’s face as he assumed the aforementioned surgical resident was Dr. Garcia. For all the shit she gives, he wasn’t going to let her live this one down. Little Miss Knife-happy getting cut on the job? It was almost poetic. 

“Who was it?” Langdon asked smugly. 

“Dr. L/n,” Princess said.

That wiped the smirk right off his face. Curiosity turning to concern, he tried to get more information about what happened.

“Stitches huh?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested. “It must’ve been a deep wound.”

“Must be,” Mateo shrugged. “I heard Javadi saying she bled through her gauze.”

So Javadi’s on the case? Langdon didn’t want to assume the worst, but he immediately recalled the intern’s first day here. How she fainted about an hour in after seeing some blood. Sure Javadi had gained more experience and hadn’t fainted again since, but it still made Langdon a bit uneasy knowing she was handling Y/n’s stitches.

“Who’s Javadi with right now?” Langdon continued to press.

“Collins, I think,” Mateo said, nodding over to the examination room just opposite to the nurse’s station. 

Pretending to check the board for a new case, Langdon stood there at the nurses station for a moment tapping his fingers on the counter idly. Staring at all the columns and rows of patients on the screen, the only case he was interested in at the moment was Y/n’s. But as badly as he wanted to rush across the hall to check in on her, he didn’t want to look too panicked and give himself away. Not in front of Princes and Mateo - those two didn’t need anything else to gossip about. 

But the pair of nurses had already shot each other a quick, knowing look as they watched Langdon try, and fail, to slip away from the counter unnoticed towards the exam room Y/n was in. 

—

Y/n, Javadi, and Collins all jumped in surprise as Langdon barged into the room suddenly. 

Collins looked at him quizzically, not understanding what he was doing here. Despite the bleeding, this was a superficial, clean edge laceration. Closing with simple sutures should do the trick. They didn’t need backup nor did she call for it. 

“Collins, Javadi. Just, uh, checking if you needed, y’know any help in here,” he explained unconvincingly. 

“No, we’ve got it,” Collins said as she checked to see Y/n was properly numbed before they started suturing.

“Dr. L/n,” he greeted Y/n as casually as possible, trying to sound more snide rather than sorry to see her sitting there on the examination table. “What happened to you?”

“IV stand to the head,” she replied, averting his gaze as he stepped closer, taking a look at her laceration. 

She held her breath, ignoring the way her stomach fluttered as she felt his fingertips brush a strand of hair away from the area. It took all her self control to not start smiling like an idiot. This is exactly why she avoided coming down to the ED as much as she could, pushing most of the consults off to Dr. Garcia instead. She just couldn’t hide how she felt around him and it's not like he made it any easier for her - especially not now.

Eyes flitting between Y/n and Langdon, Collins could sense there was something going on there. Expecting some back and forth to ensue between the two, Collins was surprised, almost disappointed when she heard none. Not a peep from either of them. Aside from the sound of rattling tools as Javadi prepped to suture, the room was silent. Weird. A surgical resident was in the room and not a single insult was being thrown? Not even a bit of banter? That wasn’t like Langdon at all. And while Collins didn’t know Y/n quite as well, she knew she was from surgery. And anyone from surgery never missed a chance to take a friendly jab at the ED. Hell, just moments ago Y/n made a comment about wanting to stitch herself up rather then get botched on a rush job.

It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

As Javadi rolled her seat in front of Y/n, ready to start suturing with a P-3 needle and 5-0 nylon in hand, Y/n could not pass up the opportunity to give the intern a hard time.

“Careful with the bite size alright. This is my face, not a quilt.”

“Right,” Javadi said, forcing out a nervous laugh before swallowing the lump in her throat.

Watching tensely, as Javadi put in the first stitch, Langdon was shocked Y/n let someone aside from herself stitch up that wound, let alone an intern. Collins was right there. She was far more experienced than Javadi and could ensure each stitch would be identical, that the tension was distributed evenly, that the scarring would be minimal. 

“You sure you don’t want to do it yourself,” Langdon whispered as Collins stepped back to stand beside him. She shot him a side-eye at the unsolicited suggestion. With this being a teaching hospital and all, the whole point was to have the students learn and practice. The judgement and suspicion on her face had him quickly trying to explain himself. “To show Javadi the proper technique that is.” 

While that was a fair point, this wasn't Javadi's first time suturing and Collins was confident in the intern’s abilities to close up a simple laceration like this. Peering over Javadi’s shoulder for good measure, Collins nodded pleased with her work so far. 

“No need. She’s doing a great job,” she assured him, before eyeing him suspiciously. “We’re all good here y’know. You can go.”

Langdon opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to string together a good excuse to stay. Taking too long to come up with something that sounded reasonable, Collins spoke up again. 

“Or is there a particular reason you’d like to stay?” she teased, cocking her subtly at Y/n. 

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head a little too hard. “You’re right, you guys got it all under control.”

Mhm, Collins nodded in agreement, watching him closely as he turned to leave. 

Langdon spared one last fleeting, but longing, glance at Y/n before finally walking through the door. And that was all Collin’s needed to validate her suspicions. Oh, those two definitely had something going she said to herself. Charging in here randomly, the uncharacteristic lack of snark, the worry in his eyes, his reluctance to leave. Such obvious tells. Was he even trying to be discreet? 

— 

The sun was just about to set as Langdon watched, from the far end of the parking lot, batches of the morning shift employees exit the hospital.

He didn’t usually wait for Y/n after work like this. Too many eyes around that might see them together. Although recently they’ve been spending most nights together, either at his or hers, they intentionally drove to work separately despite working the same hours for the sake of keeping their relationship private.

But today they slept in a little later than usual. Maybe her bed was comfier than his or maybe it was just the fact he was in bed with her, but he did not want to leave that bed. Needless to say those extra few minutes laying around together had him rushing out of her door forgetting his wallet on her dresser.

He planned on sneaking away to grab it from her over lunch like she had texted him to, but the ED was slammed. He was lucky that a very grateful patient sent them a few boxes of pizza as a thank-you, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have eaten anything all day.

So today, he waited for her and his wallet, leaning on the trunk of her car. He didn’t expect to be waiting this long though. Looking down at his wrist, it was already 5:19. Y/n was supposed to be off at 5. He was about to give her a call when he spotted her speed walking across the parking lot. 

“There you are,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “I was starting to worry you got into another fight with an IV stand.” 

“Not funny,” y/n said, shoving his shoulder playfully, smiling despite herself. “Sorry, I took so long. I just lost track of time trying to finish up this report.”

Langdon brushed off her apology. He would’ve waited any amount of time to see her. Especially after today. Since Collins practically kicked him out of the room while y/n was getting her stitches, he didn’t get to check in on her afterwards, to see how they turned out. 

“Can’t believe you let an intern suture your face,” he said. 

Y/n just shrugged. She remembered what it was like being an intern. Just starting out, wanting to glove up and scrub in on anything she could, trying to get someone to give her a chance to prove herself. And besides, the laceration wasn’t that deep and about 2, maybe 3 centimeters max. It was also, thankfully, close enough to her hairline so any scaring wouldn’t be too noticeable. Any intern should’ve been able to do it. But if she had to choose one from the ED, she was glad it was Javadi. 

“She’s Shamsi’s kid. I’m pretty sure she’s been practicing sutures since she was like 10,” y/n joked. Langdon laughed, having seen that mother-daughter dynamic first hand, he suspected there was probably some truth there. 

Cupping her face gently, he turned her head to get a better look at Javadi’s handiwork on her forehead. Not bad, he thought pleasantly surprised at how good they turned out. Swatting his hands away from her face, trying to get him to stop fussing over her, she turned the tables. 

“What I can’t believe is how you came bursting into the room like that.”

Langdon groaned. In hindsight it wasn’t the best idea, considering they wanted to keep their relationship a secret. But once he heard she was hurt, he couldn’t help himself. He needed to make sure she was alright, to see to it that she was being treated appropriately. 

“I was worried. Okay?” he admitted, resting his hands on her waist tenderly. “Mateo was saying you got head butted.”

Placing her hands on his chest, Y/n rolled her eyes at just how fast that news traveled around the hospital. The gossip mill truly never rests. While she was touched by his concern, this put their relationship at risk of being the next big story. 

“Collins is so onto us now, I bet-” 

A loud revving caught her attention, interrupting her train of thought. Turning around, a black sedan came to pull up right beside them. Immediately, the pair pulled apart as they waited for the windows to roll down revealing Mateo in the driver’s seat. 

“Okay lovebirds, when two of you are done making kissy-face, come meet the team at Mulligan’s for a round. You two have a lot of explaining to do,” he laughed, before speeding off. 

Y/n and Langdon turned to each other in disappointment - they’d been outed. It was hard to say by who or even when. It could’ve been Collins, today after Langdon came to check on Y/n. Or it could’ve been Perlah who caught the pair walking out of the on-call room the other day. Or it could've been Mateo, just now, as he drove by seeing them all loved up. One thing was for certain though, by tomorrow morning everyone will know. From the OR, to the ED and all the departments in between.

Resignation set in as they accepted their fate. It was inevitable after all. The fact they’d managed to conceal it for this long was quite the accomplishment considering how nosy and chatty everyone they worked with seemed to be.

With sigh, Y/n looked at the bright side. At least now they didn’t have to worry about being seen together. No need to sneak around to hang out during their breaks. She didn't have to keep avoiding come down to the ED. They could drive to work together now too, save some gas and take the carpool lane. 

Also trying to find good in all this, Langdon wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing a comforting kiss on the side of her head.

“Hey, at least that Dr. West will stop hitting on you once he knows you’ve got a boyfriend down in the pit,” he said lowly in her ear. 

“Oh please,” Y/n turned in his arms to face him, “You’re one to talk! As if all those new travel nurses aren’t throwing themselves at you.”

“Jealous?” he teased, pulling her tighter against him. 

“Are you?” she challenged, arms resting on his shoulders naturally,m.

With their faces now just inches apart, drawn together like magnets, there was no fighting the pull between them. Their lips met eagerly, having yearned for this feeling since they last kissed this morning.

So caught up in one another, the only distraction around that pulled them away from each other was the loud, obnoxious emergency alert going off on both their phones. A chemical spill blocked off traffic on the busiest highway in the city - the exact highway both Y/n and Langdon took to get home. 

The roads were going to be backed up now that the highway was closed. Langdon hated sitting in traffic, just the thought got him irritated. 

“What do you say we take up Mateo’s offer?” he suggested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Y/n asked, thinking he couldn’t be serious. If they went, they’d be walking into a lion’s den full of scrutiny, teasing, and never-ending grilling. 

“I say that beats the traffic. It’s just a couple blocks walk. We could have a beer, wait out the traffic, make our debut as a couple?”

She thought about it for a second. He wasn’t wrong. And despite having hoped to keep their relationship private, the thought of walking in on his arm was kind of exciting. 

“Alright, your idea, you’re paying,” y/n said, fishing his wallet from her tote, and tossing it to him. 

Catching it smoothly, Langdon let out an offended pfft, draping his other arm around her as they walked out of the parking lot. 

“I always pay anyway.”

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

(Pre bottom surgery) hyun-ju finds out reader was selling bad things so she could get bottom surgery (you choose what reader was selling)

(Juicy, i like it)

Sold!

Character: Cho Hyun-Ju X fem!reader

Summary: Above :))

Warnings: Talk of bottom surgery, reader selling stuff, and a sad Hyun-Ju

Hyun-Ju knew something was off when she noticed your closet looking... sparse.

Not just tidy. Emptying.

It started small. A few high heels gone. A designer purse you swore you’d never part with. She chalked it up to spring cleaning.

But then your favorite laptop was missing from the desk. The one covered in stickers from all the cafes and festivals you’d taken it to. Your vanity was bare — no necklaces, no rings, not even the gold bracelet she gave you last year.

And she found the receipts.

Tucked under the microwave, behind the ramen packets — a pile of folded receipts from resale shops. Designer consignment. A pawn shop, even. Listed were things she recognized too well.

Hyun-Ju stood in the kitchen holding the paper, her hands trembling. It wasn't the receipts that made her chest ache.

It was the note scribbled on one of them:

“Not worth more than your happiness. I love you.”

She didn’t know how long she stood there, frozen, until the sound of keys at the door jolted her. You came in humming softly, bags of groceries in hand, cheeks pink from the wind.

“Hey, Jagiya,” you said cheerfully, kicking off your shoes. “They had strawberries on sale—”

“What are you doing?” Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

You blinked, smile fading. “What… what do you mean?”

Hyun-Ju held up the receipts.

“You’re selling your things.”

A beat. Then another.

You sighed, gently setting the grocery bags down. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She shook her head, trying to piece together her emotions — frustration, guilt, heartbreak, love — all tangled and raw in her chest.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do that? That was your stuff. Your laptop. Your jewelry. You loved that coat.”

“I love you more,” you said plainly.

That stopped her. Your voice wasn’t dramatic or flowery. Just honest. Like the sky telling you it would rain soon.

“I know how long you’ve waited. How many times you’ve had to pause, or settle for consultations you didn’t feel safe with. How you say it doesn’t define you, but how your voice breaks when you're quiet for too long.” You stepped closer, gently taking the receipts from her hand. “I have stuff. You have dysphoria. I don’t need stuff.”

“But it’s not your job to—”

“It’s our life, Hyun-Ju.”

Your voice was soft, but sure.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing for existing. I want to help you feel at home in your body. I want you to wake up and not flinch at the mirror. I want you to have everything you’ve been scared to want too much.”

Her eyes filled fast, tears trembling on her lashes.

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Of the surgery. Of something going wrong. Of not being enough afterward. Of… of not deserving it.”

“You’re already enough.”

You wrapped your arms around her and pulled her to your chest.

“You don’t have to earn your own body.”

She buried her face in your shoulder. The receipts crinkled between you both, but neither of you let go.

“Let me do this for you,” you whispered. “Let me take care of you the way you always try to take care of me.”

Hyun-Ju clutched your shirt in both hands.

And for once, she let herself be held without guilt.

[evermarch]

Hi. Do you think Peeta finds it easy or challenging to read Katniss?

hi!! that’s a great question. i think that peeta pre-hijacking would probably find katniss quite difficult to read purely because of her inconsistency with herself. he tries to find patterns in places that just…don’t exist. i think he views her in a certain light and doesn’t anticipate deviation from that perspective.

for example, he doesn’t anticipate her reaction to the interview reveal in thg, and he’s shocked by her anger (which makes sense because they hardly know each other). but he doesn’t seem to fully comprehend the source of her anger even a year later because, in catching fire, after the baby reveal, he asks if there’s anything he needs to apologize for. before that, he’s shocked she’s mad at being perceived as “pure.” and later, he tries to use her family and gale as a means to get her to let him die in her place. these are moments that katniss herself can’t fully explain her feelings in her own head (at least, strategically, in the way she’d been so bent on thinking in other circumstances), so no wonder he’s confused!

however, i think he develops a strong instinct about her throughout their time together in the first two books that comes out more clearly post-hijacking. that’s not to say that it doesn’t exist pre-hijacking—the fact that he tries to have that “piece of their games” conversation on the rooftop, the nights on the train, and his uncertainty that the beach kiss is “for the cameras” (an uncertainty which even pushes through the hijacking state) demonstrates his instinct for her true emotions and thoughts. but i think it takes him until post-hijacking to truly *get* her and how she thinks.

the remarks he makes while recovering from the hijacking (telling her she’s not big or pretty, flirting with annie in front of her, implying they did more on the train than they did, etc.) are all sharp and devastating comments that hit katniss severely BECAUSE of the nature of their relationship. and i think he makes them to test her limits and get her to react. as gale says, the way he hates her is “so familiar.”

by the time they’re in the capitol, he’s able to get through to her in a way no one else can when she admits her plan was based on a lie. i personally subscribe to the belief that he is responsible for saving her from the worst of the burns in prim’s bombing because he anticipated her actions (though that’s not officially canon, it’s just subtly suggested). then, of course, there’s the fact that he knew she was going for her nightlock capsule after shooting snow and put his hand out to block her.

post-hijacking peeta can read katniss like a BOOK. that’s not to say she can’t surprise him—i truly don’t think he knew how she’d react to the primroses outside her house. but i think that, once the admission at the end of thg that she had been acting stripped him of his rose-colored glasses, and the shiny, animus-filled fog from the hijacking cleared, he was probably able to see her more plainly than he ever had.

by the time they reach “so after,” there’s no doubt that he knows every inch of who she is. and he loves every single part. when he asks her if she loves him, real or not real, i personally believe that he’s not asking because he doesn’t know that she chose him, that she wants him, and that she loves him. he asks less because he wants validation (although that is certainly part of it), but because he wants to know that she is healed enough to admit to herself, and to him that she loves him before they dive into forever.

[angels-sins0]

i beg you to continue with this fic of ghost, i want reader to gain some strength and make something 😭

Ghost x f!reader

Cw: I apologize in advance, emotionally (un)available Simon, age gap relationship (Simon is depicted in his late 30’s and the reader is around 21), older man!Ghost, young & naive!reader, slight spoilers for MWIII, brief mention of a developing alcohol addiction, hurt/no comfort, angst, screaming and crying, please don’t kill me for this.

Six months had passed since you last saw Simon. Truth be told, you’ve never felt better than you do right now.

You had moved out of your apartment three months ago after getting a promotion at your job, earning more money than you ever thought of having.

Life was good without him. You didn’t have to worry about getting your feelings hurt anymore.

Simon on the other hand, had been going through the worst months of his life.

He lost a good friend of his while on a mission which resulted in him frequenting the bar close to his house more than he’d like to admit.

Work was hard then and it was even harder knowing he couldn’t see you or hear your soft voice again.

He hated whatever it is he felt when he thought about you and the last time you were together. He despised himself for the way he treated you.

He missed your sweet laugh and the way your eyes lit up each time you saw him even if he proceeded to ruin you moments later.

What was it about you that made him feel weird inside whenever he thought of you? If only he felt that way when you were still with him.

Simon felt like he saw you everywhere around him, like you were with him no matter what he did. It was a strange feeling at first but he had learned to succumb to the comfort it brought him.

It didn’t help that you were the main star in his dreams more often than not. Whether it be dreams where he fought harder to have you back in his life or him fucking you in your bed, a guilty part of him enjoyed the latter.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to see you, had to look at your face one more time, hold you in his arms and never let you go again.

Simon stood in his apartment and contemplated if he actually wanted to do this.

What if you didn’t want to see him?

What if he was too late and you had found someone who treated you the way you deserved?

He had to try, right? Sure he would be hurt if you didn’t want him anymore but at least he would have some kind of closure.

And so, he made his way to your new place. He had gotten the address from Laswell but not before she made some snarky comment about him finally “getting laid”.

Simon knocked on your door and stood looking down at his feet.

Then you opened the door and he swore his heart could’ve popped out of him at that moment.

“Hey,” he breathed out, but you just stood there, rendered completely speechless by the fact that he was actually in front of you.

“H-how did you find me?” You said after a few moments of silence.

“I’ve got my ways.” He said plainly. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do.

Should you let him in?

All the while, you both just stared at each other.

“Do you want to…?” What the hell do people even say in these situations?

“Only if you want me to.”

And so, you moved to let him in, closing the door behind you and leading him to sit on the couch.

It was awkward. You didn’t even look at each other, just sat there in silence.

“Why are you here, Simon?” You asked. Why the hell would he show up now?

“I’ve been…thinking a lot about where we left things off.” He looked at you and you nodded slowly at his words.

“And?”

“And I think— I know I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you.” He sighed, and you stared at him, dumbfounded.

“It took you six months to figure that out?” You didn’t know what it was exactly that made you so angry. Was it his audacity to show up after all that time and think you’d be okay with it?

Simon went quiet again.

You stood up from the couch. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me the entire time you were away? How long I spent crying over something that wasn’t real? We had nothing! And i still felt like you were everything to me…even when I knew you’d never feel that way about me. Did you really think that—I would…let you in again after all this time?”

You couldn’t help the sob that escaped you, covering your face with your hands to wipe away your tears so he couldn’t see them.

He got up as well, slowly approaching you and he gently pulled you into his arms. You reluctantly relaxed into him, the tears still falling from you.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like this…I wish I was better—i want to be better…” Simon cupped your face with one hand, the other still wrapped around you and placed his forehead on yours.

With your eyes still closed, you hadn’t realized he’d lifted his mask up above his mouth. Your faces were impossibly close and he leaned in to connect your lips together in a kiss.

You felt like you were being controlled by something and it made you kiss him back, even when part of you wanted to push him away.

It went on for a couple of seconds before you eventually pulled back and stared at him.

“Is this what you’re really here for?” You said, voice laced with a hint of anger.

“No! Fuck, no! I wanted to calm y’down and it just happened.”

“I wanna be better and i wanna make you happy but most of all I want you to forgive me for how things were between us.” He was almost pleading, his eyes searching yours for any emotion.

You couldn’t help but scoff.

“All these words…and you still kissed me with your mask on, what does that tell you, Simon?”

He stayed silent. “It tells you that no matter what we have, you’ll never be able to feel like you can let your guard down around me.”

“But i-“

“And if we really decide to do this, what happens when you think i’m not enough or when you feel like you don’t want me anymore? How the hell am I supposed to be okay with that?! It took me six months to start feeling better even though what we had was nothing!”

“You are enough! For fuck’s sakes, you are all I’ve ever wanted!”

“Then show me who you are! I’m never gonna be able to love you if I don’t fucking know you, Simon!”

“You know I can’t do that…”

“Well, then you have your answer…” You looked down, not wanting to see his face anymore.

But he couldn’t look away from you, part of him knowing this was the last time he’d ever see you so he wanted to memorize everything about you.

“I think you should go.” You said, breaking the silence between you. “Please don’t try to come here again.”

You looked up at him and for the first time since you’ve known him, Simon looked hurt. You couldn’t help but feel a pang in your heart at the sight of him standing there, trying to salvage whatever this was but ultimately failing.

“Right…”

“I’m sorry for everything I did to you.” Were the last words he spoke before leaving.

On his way home, he had this weird feeling in his chest that he couldn’t explain, it made him realize why he was always so closed off and why he never tried to have something with someone.

Simon has always had this unexplainable fear of being rejected and left alone, and tonight, you invoked that fear further into him.

He had two thoughts that kept circling through his head.

He was never going to love again.

And the second one that pained him every time he would think about it.

You were gone and there was nothing he could do about it.

@ghost-is-my-bbg , @evehasdied , @darlingvinny , @dragonstoneshortcake , @dest-nai , @imhereforthespice , @graciewacey , @annoyinglysweetobject , @7thsthings , @kaa212 , @rorylover71 , @deareststhings , @dxrak , @ghostslillady , @kazuhyahs , @spookyboogyuniverse , @dangelus , @kenz-ee , @goodkittyspost , @puppybittingotherpuppy , @skulfan1 , @prttylilkittn , @emmalandry , @justgivingupsblog , @simpforfic , @ciggsaftersex , @massiveduckkidcookie , @c3r3al-k1ll3r887 , @riverbutghost , @spxctorslxxt , @marriedtoeddie , @delightfulwolflawyerfreak-blog , @sixxslut , @ghostslittlegf , @tf141glory , @ghostswife141 , @prazinos , @toastedkjeks , @naio-kummer , @sunsetsimon , @livingdead-g1rl , @chimochai , @yo1mamma , @loving-azerath , @lanadelreygirly777

[ladyescapism]

The Fourth Archeron Sister - Part 6

summary: the baby of the family, Deirdre Archeron, is growing up and finding herself. on place she has already found is in a unknowingly requited crush with a certain shadow singer. will they be able to find each other? or will expectations, honor, and other forces get in the way?

a/n: well, this is it. the last part. I decided to use one word doc to write this series and it is 50 pages and a little over 14,000 words total. my mind is blown. I can finally put my first multi-part series to rest. thank you for everyone's kindness and support as I have grown as a writer. without further ado...

part 5 -- masterlist

wc: 2,285

warnings: none, just some angst and fluff

~ ~ ~

DIERDRE

Deirdre’s tears calmed after an hour or so. She began moving around her apartment, searching for something to do, but found little purpose. In her desperation, she resorted to organizing - a truly terrible task. 

She had finally finished sorting her books in to piles that she had purchased and those on loan. Before she could start putting them in alphabetical order by author’s last name, a knock sounded at the door. 

No shadows whispered at her telling her that Azriel came for another attempt at an apology. She opened the door to find her sisters waiting patiently for her. 

She sniffled, but silently moved so that they could enter. 

“What are you doing?” Nesta practically accused. 

“Organizing my books,” she replied. 

Wordlessly, Nesta shot her a look for where she came to stand beside her youngest sister as if to silently ask ‘Really?’ 

Feyre spoke cheerfully, “It seems to be coming along, dove.” 

It was Feyre’s turn to get that look from Nesta. An almost awkward silence passed between them. 

“Not to sound rude,” Deirdre said. “But what brings you here?” 

“No ruder than the look we both just got from Nesta,” Feyre laughed. 

Deirdre managed a chuckle. 

Nesta sighed and rubbed her belly. Deirdre darted to the sofa, quickly clearing a place for her very pregnant sister to rest. “Here,” she insisted. 

“Thank you, D,” Nesta said. 

“We came to check on you,” Feyre started. “And I came to apologize.” 

“No need, Feyre,” she said. “It’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Let her finish,” Nesta interjected. 

Deirdre silenced herself. 

“I shouldn’t have let them speak to you like that. Rhys should not have condescended to you. Azriel shouldn’t have even brought what happened to us without your consent. I should have taken issue with that from the beginning – not just after I saw how much it upset you. I was wrong to make that comment about mates, too. You’re right. Cassian did not have a right to know about what Alex said before Nesta.” 

“Hold on, what?” Nesta asked. 

“When we were arguing in the hall,” Deirdre explained. “Feyre said that I didn’t understand where Cassian was coming from because I don’t have a mate. That Azriel though Cassian would have a right to know the same as you.” 

“I would have told Cassian right away,” Nesta said plainly. “If Deirdre was okay with it, I probably would have had him with us when you told me.” 

“And I would have been perfectly okay with that, too,” Deirdre sighed out. “But I just needed an hour or two, a good meal, and a bath before I went out of the house again to tell anyone.” 

Deirdre plopped into an armchair by the window. “Azriel had to go and tattle on me, making the situation and my reaction seem so much worse.” 

Feyre looked concerned. “I didn’t even get the whole story.” 

“Basically,” Deirdre explained, “is that Alex took me to a sticky tavern and left me to talk to other people a lot, one of which I would later find out was a past… companion of Nesta’s. Looking back, he had one too many drinks. When he walked me home and I admitted that I didn’t like the tavern, he called me a frigid bitch, revealed that bit of information about Nesta, and called her a slut.” 

Feyre looked contemplative. “Cassian made it sound like you had been practically assaulted and Nesta’s honor had been dragged through the mud.” 

“Honestly, he probably got over-protective.” Nesta looked to Feyre. “Over both me and Deirdre. Az coming to him like it was a big secret didn’t help.” 

“Azriel is the best secret-keeper on the whole fucking island,” Deirdre exclaimed, earning shocked looks from both her sisters. “And he literally couldn’t wait 20 minutes for me to process and figure out how to tell you.” She flung her hand towards Nesta. 

“And there still isn’t a good reason why he went and told Cassian when I told him specifically not to tell Cassian.”

“Has he come to apologize yet,” Feyre asked. 

‘Yes! He’s sorry it escalated but not sorry that he did it.” Deirdre looked to her books. “Well, I’m sorry that the pages of the book I threw at him creased, but I hope he gets a bruise!”

Deirdre panted from her outburst. 

“You threw a book at Azriel,” Nesta asked. 

“Yes.” 

“You threw a book at the Shadow singer, spymaster to the Night Court.” It was Feyre’s turn to ask. “And landed a hit?” 

A smile broke across Deirdre’s face at the ridiculousness of what she had done. “Yes,” she squeaked out. 

A laugh broke from Feyre’s lips. And soon all three of them were in hysterics. Feyre fell to the sofa in her fit of laughter. Deirdre had pitched forward in her chair, falling on the floor and sending a stack of books tumbling. Nesta was the most restrained of the three, but sill cradled her belly as she laughed. 

Soon they settled. They began to hash out more feelings. Real pride shown across Nesta’s face when Deirdre added the part where she slapped Alex. 

Lunchtime had passed when Feyre and Nesta both headed for home. Feyre left with a promise that Rhys would apologize for his over-reaction. Nesta made no such assurances. Surprising both Feyre and Deirdre, Nesta pulled her youngest sister into a brief, but tight hug. 

“Thank you for planning to come talk to me about what he said before sharing it with everyone else,” Nesta said into her ear. “I appreciate the maturity in which you tried to handle this.” 

Deirdre couldn’t think of any response, so she wished her sisters safe travels and returned to the silence of her home. 

~ ~ ~

AZRIEL

He had really done it this time. Deirdre was never going to forgive him. 

“I’m not mad that you told me,” Cassian tried to reassure him. “I may have over-reacted, but coming to me was the right thing to do.” 

“I violated Deirdre’s trust in doing that. She asked me to not tell you so that she could talk to Nesta first.” 

“Then why did you tell him,” Nesta’s voice interrupted. 

Azriel didn’t know how to respond. Nesta continued to stare him down, waiting on an answer. 

“She tried to hide how much she had cried,” Nesta continued. “Her face was red and puffy. Her apartment was a disaster. And honestly, she looked so sad and embarrassed.” 

Azriel couldn’t take this. He made to walk away into the house where he could escape Nesta telling him how badly he fucked up. 

“That what you did – both of you. More than anything else. You embarrassed her,” Nesta whirled on Cassian. “Deirdre has been through so much. She tried to tell me in private or just the two of us. But you had to go and drag it out in front of everyone.” 

Azriel looked to find his brother’s head bent in shame. 

With Nesta’s ire focused on Cassian, he silently crept into his room. 

~ ~ ~

One Month Later 

“A beauty, Nesta. She’s wonderful.” Deirdre’s voice rang through the room. She hadn’t looked at him the whole time she had been in the house. 

Deirdre had attended to Nesta in the birthing room. He has seen her briefly when she came rushing in - the news that Nesta had gone into labor had her sprinting from the main room to assist Nesta any way she could. Hours later, they had been blessed with a healthy, pink, wailing niece. 

Azriel came into the room for his turn to hold the baby girl. He stood in the doorway, not wanting to impose on the sisterly affection. Cassian spotted him soon enough. 

“Brother,” he said. “Come and meet her - Juniper” 

Cassian had cried when he came to the seating room earlier to tell everyone that his baby girl had arrived with mother and child healthy as can be. Rhys and Cassian shared their first moment in solidarity as fathers. 

He had watched – jealously coursing through his body. 

He took one step into the room. Nesta’s hair was tied back in a messy braid, tendrils of her golden waves framing her exhausted features. He made his way over to her first, placing a kiss on her cheek. 

“Congratulations, sister.” 

Nesta nodded in response, eyes seeking her baby again. She held her arms out, beckoning Deirdre to hand baby Juniper back to her mother. Deirdre turned her body from where she sat on the bed holding the babe and situated her to her mother’s arms. 

She stood, moving to Cassian and wrapping her arms around his large frame. The male gently lifted Deirdre into her arms to give her one of his signature bear hugs. 

Azriel sat and the babe was placed gently into his arms. She let out a small sigh of discontentment at all the motion but settled soon enough. 

He was almost besotted enough to not notice Deirdre slip form the room. 

Almost. 

He held Juniper for long minutes before Mor came in and asked for her turn, bouncing from one foot to the other with excitement. He had excused himself, resigned to try and speak to the youngest sister once more. 

Azriel found her quickly, standing on the balcony overlooking the garden Elain had toiled in. She had let down her hair. The long golden waves fell down her back, nearly touching the tops of her thighs. The sunlight set her length nearly glittering as the wind lifted and twisted the strands. When she turned to look at him, his heart nearly stopped at the sight of her crystal bule eyes finding his. Morning dew in the sunlight – just as her father said.  

Had she always had this air about her? When had she become so graceful? 

“I got your letters.” She turned her gaze back to the garden. “All of them. I didn’t know how to respond.” 

He stayed silent. He would carve out the heart in his chest for her to just look at him again. Deirdre could throw as many books or spit as many hateful words at him as she liked, so long as her eyes found his. 

Rhys and Feyre kept them apart. Deirdre has asked for space after he betrayed her so terribly. Feyre visited Deirdre at her apartment a few times since that day. She came to the house once to look after Nyx, but he was away on a mission. She had done just fine on her own. 

Azriel shoved his pride down deep in his chest. He needed her in his life. If he went on like this, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. 

“Did you read them?” 

She looked at him as if he had a second head. His lips threatened to tilt up at the expression. “Of course.” 

“Then you know how sorry I am.” 

She didn’t say anything. 

“You don’t own me anything, Deirdre.” He swallowed, a lump already forming in his throat. “But do you think, one day, you could forgive me?” 

She sighed. 

“Not today, not tomorrow,” he insisted. “But would you give me the chance to earn your trust back?” 

She smiled at him - a wistful, considering smile. 

“I think that is entirely possible.”

~ ~ ~

DIERDRE

It should have taken longer for Deirdre to feel like she could trust Azriel again. The few weeks of attention he devoted to her should not have made her fully prepared to melt into him again. 

The only thing this month or so of dedication from Azriel did was make her crush on him come back with ravenous force. She could hardly stand to look at him without a blush coming across her cheeks. 

But, she could no longer brush herself off as a foolish girl. Her heart knew what it wanted: Azriel. 

Now, she stood by his side looking at the Sidra on a bridge at twilight. The scene could have come from one of Feyre’s paintings. The streetlights reflecting on the rippling water, the passers-by laughing and chatting with each other and the center on the painting – the bridge where the pair stood. 

“Azriel,” she started. “There is something I must tell you.” 

His eyes shifted to hers. His face was open and light, relaxed from their quiet evening. The streetlights reflected in the golden specks around his iris. 

Be brave, she thought to herself. 

“I have feelings for you,” she rushed out. “For a while, I have had a serious crush on you. I think about you all the time. And I was wondering, if you might have any romantic inclinations towards me? If not, it’s perfectly fine but - ”

She stopped when she felt Azriel rough hand grab hers. Deirdre didn’t realize that she looked down when she started her confession. She raised her gaze to meet his again. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” 

“What?” 

Azriel just shook his head, the chuckle he let out going straight to her heart and nesting next to her soul. 

He pulled her body closer to hers. Slowly, silently, intentionally, he lowered his lips to touch hers. Her hand found his cheek, bringing his head that much closer. 

She gasped. Something in her chest pulled taught. Azriel snapped his head back, searching for the cause of her noise.

He blinked rapidly before pure happiness like she had never seen on his face lit up the twilight. 

The tightness in her chest flowed to his. Her soul flew from her chest and collided with his in a glorious symphony. 

As it turns out, they were made for each other. 

p.s. What I wouldn't give to get a bear hung from Cassian. I just know he gives the best hugs

taglist: @feysandzoyalailover @fanfictioniseverything @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @singhillada @marina468 @acourtofbooksandshadows @kristeristerin @xcastawayherosx @bunnyredgirl @pinksmellslikelove

[la-gotica-fantasma]

Due Ritual

setting - The Glade

characters - Gally x Witch!Fem!Reader

word count - 600

summary - Every Greenie night, Y/n plays around with a little magic. What happens when her witchcraft is interrupted?

contains - Witchcraft

authors note - This is a draft from January 19 </3 I apologize for any errors.

Moonlight cascaded down through the branches that she rested under. She stood in the clearing of the trees as they circled around her. Her grip on the stick in her hand did not waver as she chanted, imagining a barrier around her glowing with the essence of honey, and imagining the stick with the same. “By the power of trees,” she stepped forward, waltzing in a circle in the fencing Mother Nature created. “By the power of ground, may protection be-” 

“Shucking hell- [Name]?” a linen voice broke her ritual, beckoning her to turn to face it. 

Gally stood further from the clearing, arms close to his sides as he stared at her. 

Her hold on the stick slackened, but it did not drop. “Yeah?” she asked. 

“You’re kind of chanting in a circle.” he stated plainly, gesturing his hand toward the candles on the ground.  

“Yeah?” she asked again, giving a slight nod. 

“It’s kind of creepy.” 

[Name] nodded slowly, bringing the stick to her side, “Can I continue?” 

Gally looked at her dumbstruck. She looked down at herself; maybe she was wearing something funky, or maybe she reeked of dandelion. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” he asked, walking toward her. 

“Casting a spell.” she remarked as though it was nothing, because to her; it truly was.

He stopped abruptly, his hands flying to his pockets. “Yeah, I see that, and what kind of spell?” He spoke very cautiously, like she could kill him with their eyes meeting. 

“Protection.” she smiled, it was nice that someone who viewed her heresy at least asked before screaming witch—which she is, but still. “Would you like to join me?” 

“I’ll be okay,” he began quite confidently, “Why are you doing a protection spell?” 

Eyes soft as [Name] gazed at him; admiring the way the moon peppered kisses all along his sun-loved skin. He seemed so innocent in the moment, despite being the exact opposite. 

“To protect myself.” she said. 

“From what? You don’t leave the Glade.” he responded, having now walked so much closer that they were practically beside each other, alone, in the woods.

“Exactly.” she retorted, wishing nothing more than to be able to make herself busy with distraction. 

“What’s that mean?” he questioned as he pulled her hand back up to inspect her stick. 

“It means, Gally,” she sighed, looking back up at him, “I am scared- sometimes- of the people in the Glade.”

“Like me?” he asked, a little bit shakenly, like he was either scared or offended. 

“Like you.” she admitted, twirling the stick in her hand awkwardly. 

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, taking her other hand in his warm one. His hold on her hand was not a grasp but more of a whisper of two gossiping girls across a loud bar. “We won't bite.” he promised.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of.” she somberly laughed, when in reality she wanted to scoff. “Am I making sense?” she asked, her head jerking back upward to look him in the eye.

“I understand.” He nodded, “Do you do this every Greenie night?”

“Sure do.” she responded.

“Well, I’ll keep the other Gladers away from here every Greenie night.”

“Thanks, Gally.”

[forestdeath1]

Canon Sirius through quotes

Part 4. How Sirius shows his care for people and animals.

Sirius has a trait that often seems like irresponsibility or excessive harshness.

Sirius really respects another person's free will and choice and even treats teenagers as adults with their own minds. It's a deeply rooted idea of respecting others as agents of free will.

That's why he has no pity for those who make mistakes, including himself. To him, any mistake is always a person's free choice. Sirius will never forgive Peter because, regardless of Peter's circumstances for betrayal, it ultimately was a CHOICE. He even refuses to forgive the Ministry (as if the Ministry cares, oh Sirius):

‘Don’t worry about Percy,’ said Sirius abruptly. ‘He’ll come round. It’s only a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry’s going to be begging us to forgive them. And I’m not sure I’ll be accepting their apology,’ he added bitterly.

He tells this to Molly after she encounters a boggart. Contrary to popular belief, in this scene, he doesn't really comfort her after their argument. Lupin does most of the work. Sirius just adds this phrase. He's still angry at Molly for what she said, just acting more maturely and not escalating the conflict further. He's angry because he understands Molly said exactly what she meant. Molly is also angry at him, they generally love to get angry at each other because they don't really understand each other.

They were both speaking in carefully light, polite voices that told Harry quite plainly that neither had forgotten their disagreement of the night before.

He even considers Kreacher an agent of free will. 

‘You’d be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione,’ said Sirius.

As they say - where there's a will, there's a way. When people say that Kreacher was lower in the hierarchy than Sirius (as any house-elf would be), Sirius himself did not see it that way, and it’s truly paradoxical. He argued with Kreacher, kicked him, engaged in verbal battles, though he could have just given direct orders. Kreacher's insults towards Sirius were similar in style to Walburga's  (otherwise, where would Kreacher learn those insults?), and Sirius... Sirius, instead of direct orders, just yells back or kicks him. When Harry gives Kreacher a direct order to shut up, Kreacher obeys instantly. A house-elf must obey the direct orders of their master. But Sirius doesn't give direct orders. Because for him, Kreacher is also an agent of free will (and also some ‘‘member‘‘ of his beloved and hated family, as Sirius is much more attached to the Blacks than he would like to admit).

Because of his attitude towards equals, Sirius fights for Harry to get the information he needs. For Sirius, Harry is an adult, not a five-year-old child who needs to be looked after in the style of Molly. Molly deprives Harry of his agency, his choice, and his own opinion with her overprotection. We have to understand Molly; she really worries for all of them, as half her family is in the Order and can die. She doesn't want to lose Harry, so she tries to protect him in every way. Plus, they all have orders from Dumbledore. Isn't Molly right? Molly has her point, she works for the Order and thinks Sirius could harm with his too "independent" behaviour, and teach Harry this excessive independence. And what does independence from Dumbledore lead to? Molly knows well (and so does Sirius) – last time such "independence" from Dumbledore cost the Potters their lives. I don't want to judge Molly. She's a member of the newer incarnation of the Order of the Phoenix, and a good one at that. Sirius, however, is still mentally in the era of the Order's original incarnation (as is Lupin, though he is more conforming and softer), a time when the rules of engagement were harsher, with much more focus on the grim realities of war. The newer version of the Order operates with different tactics – emphasizing manipulation, cunning, and caution.

Molly and Sirius have different approaches. Molly is about caution. Sirius is about action.

Sirius treats Harry as a subject, not an object to be shielded from information.

Sirius knows where his area of responsibility is and what he can influence, and where he should not interfere:

‘Not just yet, Molly,’ said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. ‘You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.’

‘I did!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so –’

‘And they’re quite right,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You’re too young.’

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

‘How come Harry gets his questions answered?’ said Fred angrily. ‘We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!’ said George.

‘It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,’ said Sirius calmly, ‘that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand –’

He doesn't tell the twins anything because it's not his responsibility. But Harry – that's his responsibility. And Sirius believes it's up to him to decide what Harry is allowed to know and what not (considering Dumbledore's instructions "I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly").

‘He’s not your son,’ said Sirius quietly.

‘He’s as good as,’ said Mrs Weasley fiercely. ‘Who else has he got?’

‘He’s got me!’

In the situation with Molly, you see two opposing views clash. Molly, with the archetype of a guardian, wants to shelter everyone with her care. Sirius, with the archetype of a rebel, respects Harry's wishes and wants to open up new knowledge and opportunities for him to fight.

‘He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘He’s only fifteen and –’

‘And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,’ said Sirius, ‘and more than some.’

‘No one’s denying what he’s done!’ said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. ‘But he’s still –’

‘He’s not a child!’ said Sirius impatiently.

Sirius probably stopped considering himself a child very early on. Maybe it came from his conservative family, where children were expected to grow up earlier, not walk around as "little children" until they were 18. They think about marriage, duty to the family, responsibility early on. Plus, wizards come of age earlier – at 17. So, for Sirius, 15 years old is not a child anymore.

That's why Sirius defends Harry's right "to know".

‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’

-

‘But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back’ (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) ‘he has more right than most to –’

Sirius really encourages taking action. His way of caring isn't about coddling. It's about giving knowledge, opportunities, resources, and supporting in the right direction. For Sirius, to live is to act; he can't be without action, doesn't understand life without it:

‘Personally, I’d have welcomed a Dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you’ve had it bad, at least you’ve been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights ... I’ve been stuck inside for a month.’

Sirius can't not act and he doesn't understand how you could do otherwise. He knows Harry is the same because Harry is like his dad, meaning James was the same – always acting.

And he encourages this in Harry. But he always teaches to act with thought, not just charging in. In the 4th book, Sirius was telling Harry not to stick his neck out, but in the 5th, it's the opposite. Sirius has his own logic, which he shows here:

‘So, you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the Defence group?’ he muttered finally.

‘Me? Certainly not!’ said Sirius, looking surprised. ‘I think it’s an excellent idea!’

‘You do?’ said Harry, his heart lifting.

‘Of course I do!’ said Sirius. ‘D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?’

‘But – last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks –’

‘Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!’ said Sirius impatiently. ��This year, we know there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!’

‘And if we do get expelled?’ Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

‘Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,’ said Sirius.

That's Sirius through and through. A true Gryffindor, who won't just sit around when there's danger afoot. You might argue that he shouldn't have encouraged Harry in this way. But what else was he to do? Hand Harry over to Umbridge? Of course not. He trusts Harry, believes in his potential. He treats Harry as an equal, not as a child, and that's why Harry feels so connected to Sirius – at last, someone sees him as mature enough, respects him as a free person. Throughout the series, Harry has been shielded from the truth, kept in the dark, yet Sirius shows him a different kind of respect – he sees Harry as someone who can act, in whom he places his trust and belief. Is Sirius right? When it comes to Harry – absolutely. As for the war, the Order, and following Dumbledore's orders – Molly would definitely disapprove.

He even passes Molly's words on to Ron. In his sarcastic manner, but still:

… anyway ... first of all, Ron – I’ve sworn to pass on a message from your mother.’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

‘She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you’ll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also’ (Sirius’s eyes turned to the other two) ‘advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you’d all have been in real trouble, and she can’t say it for herself because she’s on duty tonight.’

Again – a striking difference between what Molly understands by care and what Sirius understands by it.

Sirius lets Harry feel that he's believed in, respected, that his actions are encouraged. Sometimes Sirius criticises them, because as much as he encourages action, he believes all actions should be reasoned. Act according to logic, not thoughtlessly.

For instance, Sirius sternly reprimands him in the 4th book when Harry, in his opinion, does something foolish. And notice his communication style. Sirius is often blunt in conversation, in his way of talking, he doesn't sugarcoat. And Harry's okay with that. Sirius isn't one for mushiness.

Harry – what do you think you are playing at, walking off into the Forest with Viktor Krum? I want you to swear, by return owl, that you are not going to go walking with anyone else at night. There is somebody highly dangerous at Hogwarts. It is clear to me that they wanted to stop Crouch seeing Dumbledore and you were probably feet away from them in the dark. You could have been killed.

Your name didn’t get into the Goblet of Fire by accident. If someone’s trying to attack you, they’re on their last chance. Stay close to Ron and Hermione, do not leave Gryffindor Tower after hours, and arm yourself for the third task. Practise Stunning and Disarming. A few hexes wouldn’t go amiss either. There’s nothing you can do about Crouch. Keep your head down and look after yourself. I’m waiting for your letter giving me your word you won’t stray out of bounds again.

That's what care means to Sirius. Not forbidding him from knowing information. But actively helping him so Harry is ready to stand up to challenges.

Or like this:

‘Now, listen ...’ he looked particularly hard at Harry – ‘I don’t want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you’re not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission, it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you.’

‘No one’s tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of Grindylows,’ Harry said.

But Sirius scowled at him. ‘I don’t care ... I’ll breathe freely again when this Tournament’s over, and that’s not until June. And don’t forget, if you’re talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, OK?’

At the same time, he provides Harry with emotional support. Just without the mushiness. There's a sort of rough tenderness about it, making these signs of attention and love seem even more important and pleasant.

‘What’re you doing here, Sirius?’ he said.

‘Fulfilling my duty as godfather,’ said Sirius, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very dog-like way. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m pretending to be a loveable stray.’

-

The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated it all the same.

He also provides Harry with real resources that can help him:

‘I want you to take this,’ he said quietly, thrusting a badly wrapped package roughly the size of a paperback book into Harry’s hands.

‘What is it?’ Harry asked.

‘A way of letting me know if Snape’s giving you a hard time. No, don’t open it in here!’ said Sirius, with a wary look at Mrs Weasley, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. ‘I doubt Molly would approve – but I want you to use it if you need me, all right?’

-

‘Sirius’s knife,’ he said. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,’ said Harry. ‘So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has –’

Sirius isn't inclined to pity. He respects the choices of others. His care is expressed in this – he knows people's strengths and trusts them to do their job. He thinks Hagrid will be okay because Hagrid is tough. Why worry?

‘Listen, don’t go asking too many questions about Hagrid,’ said Sirius hastily, ‘it’ll just draw even more attention to the fact that he’s not back and I know Dumbledore doesn’t want that. Hagrid’s tough, he’ll be OK.’

And he respects the choice of the twins' father, though many find Sirius's words harsh:

‘We don’t care about the dumb Order!’ shouted Fred.

‘It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!’ yelled George.

‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!’

But it's not cruelty or indifference, it's respect for their father's choice, as an agent of free will.

Sirius even treats animals this way. Look how he got on with the cat. And yet he understands that animals are defenceless and need support. He doesn't expect danger from them and often finds comfort in their company.

‘This cat isn’t mad,’ said Black hoarsely. He reached out a bony hand and stroked Crookshanks’s fluffy head. ‘He’s the most intelligent of his kind I’ve ever met. He recognised Peter for what he was straight away. And when he met me, he knew I was no dog. It was a while before he trusted me. Finally, I managed to communicate to him what I was after, and he’s been helping me ...’

-

Kreacher injured Buckbeak the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Sirius was upstairs tending to him.’

-

Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

-

Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. ‘I’ve just been feeding Buckbeak,’ he added, in reply to Harry’s enquiring look. ‘I keep him upstairs in my mother’s bedroom

-

Soon, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even Harry, and spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother’s room with Buckbeak.

-

He became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called ‘fits of the sullens’, in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time.

Sirius befriended the cat, treated it as an intelligent being, and constantly cared for the hippogriff. Sirius is very closed off from people (after Azkaban, he only opens up to Harry and Remus), he builds a tough armour, but easily opens up to animals and easily cares for them in a nurturing manner – and they love him back.

In conclusion, Sirius respects the free choice of others. For him, pity towards another is demeaning. Sirius hates pity – neither for himself nor for others. To pity = to demean, to pity means to acknowledge the other as incapable and weak. And Sirius doesn't meddle in others' relationships, he well separates his zone of responsibility, and care for him is to give resources and information so the person can act. And he's good with animals, and to animals, he can show a different attitude – nurturing, because acknowledging animals as weaker doesn't demean them, because animals truly are weaker.

This character trait of Sirius isn't for moral judgement, just that's how he is, and it's important to understand that.

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 36

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of Daemon, whose loved her all her life.

masterlist for this series

"Rhaenyra has always been ruled by her impulse," Mysaria's voice echoes throughout the closed dungeons. "- always too blind to see the whole truth. I think she is yet to understand your value, Daemon." the woman refers to him in a colloquial tone.

"I trust that the seas were merciful." he says rather plainly, a breath of relief as the darkness is quenched by a lit torch. "I'm sorry." Mysaria apologizes, hinting at her inability to save Alyssa and Aelor. "As much as I would delight in spurning you, I still need you." He looks away.

There was fury behind his words, a fire that threatened to escape. "We were supposed to meet come nightfall, and I waited for her, but then news of Aelor's death reached my ears. I knew I needed to leave." Mysaria admitted, her eyes holding nothing but regret.

"I've known Alyssa since she was a babe, I watched that girl grow into a proper princess. It pains me. If I could not save Aelor - I thought that maybe I should save you." She raised her eyebrows, flashing him a bitter smile. Mysaria hated Daemon Targaryen, but she loved Saera, loved the children that she helped raise.

"Does Rhaenyra know of your presence here?" He inquires, and she takes a hasty step - opening the locked gates to free the Rogue Prince. "She knows that I am in Dragonstone, but she believes me to be on her side." Mysaria chuckles. "I've asked Ser Martin to escort you to Harrenhal. Do not try to get Caraxes, he is heavily guarded." She informs.

Daemon takes his first step outside of the prison.

"It will take at a few weeks to arrive on foot. Rhaenyra said something, says that she'll tell Saera that I died." Daemon takes a sharp breath.

Mysaria sighs, "How is it that I am forever doomed to be your raven? Both of you." she humors, closing the gate silently lest she incur the wrath of Rhaenyra's loyal men. "What if Rhaenyra were to happen upon my wife?" he growls. "Melarys is a formidable dragon, and you underestimate your son." Mysaria comforts.

She delights in seeing the Rogue Prince in this manner. Yearning, and utterly lovestruck. Saera is his weakness, Rhaenyra does not know the lengths of this weakness. "What if Saera believes me to be dead?" He asks again. He cannot think straight, not when he is not there to guide his wife.

"Then you would be underestimating your wife." Mysaria retorts. "You must leave now." She stares at the ceiling, hearing the pitter patter of the soldier's march above them.

He walks forward, "Daemon." She says, and he stares at her from over his shoulder. "- keep them safe." She pleaded. Mysaria considers Daemon's children as her own family. One of the few people who loved her without reason, accepted her even after the truth of her life.

They are her family. She will stop at nothing to ensure their safety.

"Muña, please." Daegon pleads, pushing the plate closer to Saera. She's been like this since news of Aelor's death reached them. "Has Aemond replied to the ravens you've sent him?" She asks, and her oldest child shakes his head. 'No'.

"He is mourning, and there is a blockade, there is a chance that our ravens did not reach him." Daegon answers, sadness behind his eyes. Saera is not the only one suffering. Every night, he dreams about his twin sister suffering the fate of death. It haunts him. Consumes him. "I worry about your sister," she admits.

Daemon was quick to anger and slow to forgive. Saera was slow to anger and slow to forgive, but Alyssa was never angered. She had an infinite amount of patience. She is gentle, and fickle-minded, not in a bad way, but she thinks of every perspective and she seldom judges.

She is kind, the kindest of all her children. Alyssa does not deserve to lose her son. A tear trickles down her eye. "War is ruthless, Daegon, it knows no name and holds no mercy for life. It takes, and takes until the entire world is forced to bow and bend to its mercy. War should not be the answer." She breathes.

Her mind flashes back to her father's last words: Daegon must be King. But why? Daegon is the son of a second-daughter, Rhaenyra must come before - then Jacaerys, but could it be? No. Daegon is a bastard too. 'Why do you leave me with so many questions, father?' Saera thought while wiping the tear away.

"I hold faith that we'll be safe," Daegon opens his mouth, but his mother's silence spoke louder than words. There was no certainty.

Saera feels alone, the same way that she felt when her uncle left and when her sister sought the company of Lady Alicent. There was no one to confide in, not even her own son who fights a battle of diplomacy with his men. There were hundreds of ravens that came flooding in Harrenhal, both sides suing for their support.

Daegon has responded with silence, but Saera does not know how long that silence will last. In the end, they will be forced to make a choice. "There was a letter from Aunt Rhaenyra. I was contemplating on whether or not you should know, but I think it is your right." Daegon says, his tone thin and weak.

"What is it?" She raises an eyebrow.

"The Battle in Rook's Rest has maimed Aegon, he in incapable of walking and according to reports Sunfyre is vanquished." Daegon begins with the good part of the news, "- but?" she inquires.

"Princess Rhaenys and Kepa were there." Daegon does not fail to notice the spark in his mother's eyes at the mention of Daemon. "- it has not been confirmed but both of them perished, muña." he whispers and the atmosphere suddenly turns dull.

Her chest tightens.

"I reaffirm that it has not been confirmed, there were no bodies found, but Aunt Rhaenyra says that there's a good chance that..." Daegon couldn't find the strength to complete his sentence. "As long as there are no bodies shown, it will be best not to entertain these notions." Saera tilts her head.

When has Daemon ever failed her? He's always come back unscathed. He's always returned to her.

Why would it be different this time?

"If you will excuse me," she says in a cold tone, not allowing her son to see the cracks in her facade. 'You must be strong' she reminds herself, 'I am no longer a little girl. I am a mother now, and I must be strong for them.' she comforts herself.

In the confines of her chambers, she allows herself release. Tears flow out of her eyes like a newly opened dam. Her life has become such a droll tragedy, losing her mother, her father, her relationship with her sister, and now her husband.

Without his presence, how was she to soothe her breaking sanity? How was she to raise her children? How was she to get Alyssa back?

She sinks into her soft mattress, allowing the tears to flow from her eyes to her cheeks and to the blankets. 'I don't know what to do.' No one what ever taught her to do anything. She learnt how to be a mother on her own, without the guide of anyone.

She learnt how to be a regent in stead of her son, and no one has ever taught her to do that. All her life she's had to learn.

All her life she's had to fight against the burden of her femininity. Her father taught her to be obedient and kind, like every lady of the realm - and she's learnt to fight against that by fighting against Harwin, a man who's name suddenly tastes bitter on her tongue. Saera knows in the end that she'll have to learn again.

She'll have to learn how to live in the absence of Daemon, despite her heart pounding and telling her that he was still alive.

[beeslyzita]

A Few Words About Pam Beesly

Have you ever realized that Pam’s entire character arc is about taking risks, being honest about her feelings, and going after what she truly wants?

At the beginning of the series, she’s passive, stuck in a job she doesn’t enjoy, engaged to a man she doesn’t truly love, and constantly dealing with a boss who gets on her nerves. Pam has been with Roy since high school, he’s her first and only boyfriend, the only form of romantic love she’s ever known. Because of that, she normalized his behavior. Then she meets Jim, and they quickly become close friends, bonding over inside jokes and pranks. Jim falls for her because she’s so easy to talk to.

A lot of people say Pam "led Jim on." But how? At that point, they had never even talked about their feelings. Sure, we, the audience, know how Jim feels, but from Pam’s perspective, it’s not so obvious. She struggles with low self-esteem during this part of the series. Jim understands that Pam is more reserved, and if something is going to happen, he will have to make the first move, which he tries to do multiple times (e.g., the Christmas letter, Casino Night).

It's also important to remember: Roy was the only romantic relationship Pam had ever known. She believed the "right" thing to do was to marry him and suppress her feelings for Jim.

But it’s a delicate situation. They're friends, and confessing feelings could ruin that. Plus, they work together. If their friendship fell apart, they’d still have to see each other every day. Imagine losing your best friend and your job environment becoming incredibly awkward, all at once. There’s so much at stake.

So no, there’s no "stringing along" happening here. Jim himself was never 100% honest about his feelings, either. They didn’t openly talk about it. In fact, he even lied when Michael accidentally spilled the beans. Even if Pam had feelings for Jim too, she was still engaged and didn’t have the courage to confront those emotions. She was living in denial.

When Jim finally confesses, you can see Jenna Fischer’s incredible acting, Pam is frozen because it’s the first time she’s forced to truly confront her emotions. She breaks up with Roy that same day, but by then, Jim has already left… It’s complex and brilliantly executed.

Let’s not forget: Pam later tells Roy about the kiss in a public place, on camera. Imagine how different it would have been in private. And at no point does she try to justify it by saying, “Oh, I felt alone.” She plainly says, “I kissed Jim because I had feelings for him.” Later, at the café, she even apologizes and admits her mistake.

Pam told Roy because she wanted to be honest. She didn’t shift the blame, she took full accountability. That’s incredibly brave. Pam is an amazing character.

About the Beach Episode

It makes me sad how misunderstood this scene is. It’s so much more than just a confession to Jim.

After hearing Oscar’s boyfriend say she lacks courage, Pam decides to start being more honest and brave, this leads to her breaking up with Roy. Again, she shows integrity: she doesn’t blame Roy, she’s clear and says, “I also felt something for Jim.”

In the following episode, Michael underestimates her, he assumes she doesn't have the courage to lead, and gives her a pointless task. That’s what pushes her to walk across the hot coals and, for the first time, speak up.

This moment isn’t about Jim. It’s Pam finally releasing years of frustration, after constantly being underestimated and ignored.

With all that adrenaline and raw emotion, she turns to Jim, and everything just spills out. She didn’t plan to confess. It wasn’t calculated. It was real, and raw, and honest.

Remember: Jim confessed his feelings, left the next day, and came back dating someone else. What was Pam supposed to do? Accept his feelings while still engaged? Call him after he’d already moved to another city? She wasn’t ready. She didn’t have the courage to be honest with herself.

But at the beach, she finally explodes, and unintentionally speaks her truth for the first time.

I especially love when she apologizes for saying all that in front of Karen, but follows it with: “I don’t regret saying it.” That moment isn’t just about romance, it’s about finally having the courage to be honest.

About the Philadelphia Arc

Jim’s mistake wasn’t just taking a job in another city, it was agreeing with Pam not to take it, then secretly accepting it anyway. He didn’t bring it up again. He didn’t discuss it with her. He made a major decision for their entire family and expected Pam to simply adapt.

When Pam went to New York, it didn’t disrupt Jim’s life, so it was easy for him to support her. But Jim’s move to Philadelphia affects Pam, Jim, and their children. It changes everything.

That’s a major difference.

And Honestly?

Pam is the true protagonist of The Office.

While other characters’ flaws are used for comedy, Pam’s flaws are treated seriously, and we watch her grow, fail, and evolve.

She starts as someone who’s afraid to speak up, afraid to take chances, and ends the series as someone who takes real risks for love, family, and herself.

Pam Beesly is brilliant.

[kenyuluvme]

chronic fuck-me eyes.

-> byr!! reader has hair that can be tucked behind her ears + she wears a skirt. nothing spicy happens, just exploring the idea of higuruma having fuck-me eyes/eye-fucking you lol. might make another part with actual smut let's see.

he wasn't aware of it. higuruma was barely attentive to anything aside from work-related affairs, so it wasn't hard to imagine that he was in fact incognizant of one of his most outstanding character, or rather physical, traits: his "fuck-me" eyes.

the same eyes that were indiscreetly ogling you from across the office you shared with him and shimizu.

you concentrated hard on not physically shrinking under his gaze (you already did mentally), but that was hardly feasible, what with the way in which he's been staring at you for the last few minutes. his large orbs that you happened to be fond of, half-lidded yet alarmingly keen, pored over every single part of you they could reach as if you were being undressed by him; and despite his mouth being covered by his balled up fist, you could swear you caught sight of him chewing on his bottom lip twice or thrice.

the long lashes that decorated his eyes fluttered slowly every now and then, adding on to the suffocatingly erotic aura that oozed out of him. the only thing that kept you somewhat distracted from his blatant eye-fucking was the clicking of your keyboard, which was the reason why you were pressing the keys with more vigour than the average person would.

you had to admit, you were doing a terrible job at not crumbling.

you lost count of the number of times you've momentarily let go of the keyboard to tuck a stray lock or two behind your ears, or the number of times you readjusted your skirt to see if that would make him look away, yet you'd be lying if you said the idea of your handsome boss shamelessly checking you out wasn't stroking your ego in ways unknown to man.

this was far from being the first time that higuruma has made you the target of his chronic fuck-me eyes. ever since your arrival in the firm, he's been eyeing you in this exact manner; a half-lidded, overtly sexual and intense stare. first time it happened was during your second week in the firm and you were trying to figure out the bizarrely vintage espresso machine they used, when, from your peripheral vision, you saw him leaning with his back against a window, sipping his bitter drink and plainly gazing at you through his lashes.

your lips had fell and you had awkwardly let out a "uhhh" before he moved from his spot, approaching you with a barely noticeable grin and a cool demeanour. "need help, new girl?," he said, his voice husky and low, and that combined with the label he gave you was more than enough to have you widen your eyes in slight frenzy.

ever since that fateful meeting, you've become more and more conscious of his habit of following you with his gaze and it was almost as if he liked to do it when you were alone in the same place as him.

you raised your eyes to read the time. 36 minutes left then you could clock out and scream into your pillow. yet, you didn't want to let him go without doing something in return, or at least showing him that you weren't all that unaware of what he's been doing.

not removing your eyes from your computer screen, you gently but firmly killed the silence, "is something the matter, higuruma? you've been staring at me for quite a few minutes now."

after finishing your words, you sharply turned your head to meet his gaze, and you were frankly taken aback by how he took what you said. he was no longer ogling you salaciously, and in the stead of that, he seemed...flustered?

"oh, my apologies, i was just lost in my thoughts. not professional for an attorney, huh?," he tried to humour you a bit to cover up his embarrassment. he then proceeded to grab some random papers and run his eyes over those instead.

you couldn't help your jaw dropping a bit. was he actually oblivious to what he's been doing for god knows how many months now? was he genuinely not aware of the gaze that was nothing short of an invitation for you to walk over and jump his bones?

these questions bounced in your head for the remaining minutes before you hurriedly packed your papers and items then left the office with an awkwardly nervous "goodbye".

he blinked, confused at your sudden reaction.

nevertheless, higuruma considered this another win in his book, as he recalled how cute you looked trying to remain calm, and he began to ponder the other ways in which he could make you lose your cool, but he knew that you weren't ready for that yet.

higuruma was, in fact, aware of his fuck-me eyes.

-> hmmm, in my head, this was wayyyyy less story-like and more about his whore eyes and what he thinks about but it turned into a drabble ig. lemme know if a part 2 with actual sex or something that's close to it sounds nice. byeee :)

[catwouthats]

I am so past this realization right now, but I have to say it.

Mr Collins is not a creep in the books at all. He simply struggles with social cues and has a special interest in high society. He’s autistic in an “unpalatable” way.

The adaptations can just be ableist.

So here are my random hot/lukewarm takes summarized about the matter of Mr Collins:

1) He only thought that Lizzie still liked him after repeatedly rejecting him, but when the mother said that she’d “convince Lizzie to marry” him, he rejected the matter entirely (now knowing she in fact did not want him)

2) Mary is actually not a good match for Mr Collins nor did she truly want to be with him. He does not care to learn to understand reading more and simply likes learning, experiencing and observing high society. She said that he would perhaps be okay if he’d learn to read a little more. Not only did she briefly feel pushed into marrying him, she would not have been able to handle him as is. She would have liked to customize him if she was unfortunately enough of being pressured to marry him. They would have driven each other mad. I understand some of you will disagree with me and that’s okay, I simply wanted all my thoughts on one post

3) He apologized profusely for assuming one of the Bennett girls cooked the meal. He meant it. He also apologized for many other occurrences, not just concerning the Bennetts. He meant them all; he looks at high society with an awe and therefore would not take his apologies lightly. He is prideful yes, but will very frankly admit when he is wrong.

4) Though him and Charlotte Lucas aren’t good together romantically, they are still good together. She is a good listener, he is a good provider. He appreciates her; she appreciates him. Sure, he may have such a schedule with his socialization and activities that a guest leaving their house pains Charlotte slightly (as the repetition can be too much), but she has her peace in the library. And, might I remind you, that Charlotte told Lizzie that she is not a romantic. She does not marry for love because she does not experience it or perhaps because she thinks she will never find it. Either way, Collin’s and Charlotte are still quite respectable to each other. They both have their safety and social status and companionship (which is what they wanted)

5) He is autistic. As mentioned before he is very happy to simply live his life observing high society. Hell, he spends a point of him days staring out the window and announcing each carriage that passes along with their probable passengers to whoever will listen (usually leaving to go to the library and excitedly tell his wife). I know autistic was not a word at the time, but come off it. Of course he was. Just because a label is new doesn’t mean it didn’t exist prior!

6) This seems off topic but I swear it has a point. Facing the facts, so many Jane Austin novels focus on cousins marrying. This being said, to think that he is the major creep in the book, when he simply and plainly only planned to marry a cousin because Lady Catherine advised him and was taught by society it was normal, is odd! Especially when we consider the existence of Wickham! Wickham, someone who consistently has a history of gaslighting and defiling young girls simply for his own pleasure… Ugh, he is truly a disgusting creature.

[chaifootsteps]

Still thinking about Viv's claim that she thinks both sides are in the wrong and it's bugging me enough to do a quick episode run down to see how exactly that claim stacks up. Hopefully quantifying a bit more will help see where we're actually at

Ozzies: Between episodes 6&7 Stolas gets a personality transplant and goes from calling Blitzo his 'impish little plaything' and demeaning him to being head over heels for him, calling him by his name and bowing to him. When the car drives away the camera lingers on Stolas crying, though the episode ends on Blitzo and his emotions so we'll call this one even

Queen Bee: We see Blitzo's emotions in the aftermath in the form of a self-destructive bender, but noticeably what he says to Loona is that he's upset that he'll die alone. He doesn't say anything about being upset about feeling used or mistreated by Stolas (he even says his name along with the others before he throws up)

The Circus: Retcons galore backstory about how Stolas and Blitzo were childhood friends and despite using him for sex all s1, Stolas was apparently really in love with Blitzo the whole time?? It doesn't make a lot of sense but go with it. Episode ends with a song where Stolas not only implies Blitzo was somehow lying to him this whole time (Genius.com contributor suggests Stolas believed Blitzo actually loved him, which seems the obvious interpretation of these lyrics) but also makes him out to be a weak victim. He shows no guilt whatsoever for the part he played in making Blitzo feel degraded and used.

What’s between you and I Just a comfortable lie I’m the fool who believes When you look in my eyes

Seeing Stars: Stolas being framed as badass while he's choking his butler and it not being remotely bad on his part that he continues to sexually accost Blitzo in their first meeting after Ozzie's. Any criticisms Blitzo makes of Stolas (not remembering his own spells) are dismissed by Stolas with nonsensical arguments (it's relevant Blitzo can't remember Moxxie's phone number, apparently?)

Exes and Ohs: Stolas isn't in this episode or mentioned at all

Western Energy: Text message exchange after Ozzie's show Stolas giving a non apology where he doesn't actually address the problem, literally doing a 'I'm sorry if something I said or did upset you'. Episode ends on Stolas alone in the hospital where the viewer should pity him that Blitzo didn't come to visit :(

Unhappy Campers: No Stolas!

Oops: Blitzo dismisses the notion that Stolas cares about him by using examples obviously meant to favor Stolas. He is framed as jaded and unreasonable and Fizz is the obvious voice of reason. The imp who hates royalty is called a supremacist, Blitzo is the in between who dislikes Stolas and Fizz - the one who capes for royalty - is presented as in the right

Full Moon: Blitzo again criticizes Stolas, without getting to mention anything specific from s1. He is framed as going too far and tries to apologize. Stolas acts like the deal was a mutual thing even when admitting it was wrong

By my count that's basically no examples in Blitzo's favor. And I imagine if we counted all the Twitter likes from Viv on posts favoring Blitzo we'd turn up a big goose egg there, too

Careful, now! You laid out all the facts and stated them plainly, and we know that that makes a certain subset of fans angry and scared.

Viv can claim that "they're supposed to both be in the wrong" all she likes, but it doesn't mean a thing if every other word of writing in season 2 suggests the opposite. I guess the real test will come in Apology Tour, when we get to see who's actually doing the apologizing.

[nkn0va]

ArcSys Secret Santa Prompt (3 of 3)

This prompt has quickly proven to push me to my limits and then some. If this was just writing HCs it wouldn't be a problem but 1k words for a character from a game I don't play...big yikes

Prompt: A cold winter morning spent under the covers with Milia, holding each other close to stay warm.

~~~

The sun peeked through the steel grey clouds, it's rays of light were dulled, eerily close to being entirely depleted from the blanket of water vapor covering the sky. The result was a muted, white light shining through the curtains of the several wind. Millia was the first to wake up, being the closest to the window.

Her bright blue eyes slowly, reluctantly, and slightly painfully fluttered open, immediately met with the glow of the sun. Immediately she could feel her instincts kick in, her assassin training subconsciously screaming at her that something was wrong, and her body tensed up as if she was getting ready to fight.

Millia quickly turned her body over, fearing the worst, only to be met with your peaceful sleeping face right in front of hers. Almost immediately she let out the breath she'd been unconsciously holding and began to calm herself down. As reluctant as the blonde was to admit it, old habits did in fact seem to die hard.

The sound of the rustling sheets combined with the way the mattress moved with her harsh, sudden movements inevitably awakened you too. Your eyes slowly but surely opened, the sunlight greeting you as it did Millia. You didn't react nearly as... intensely as she did though, a note of concern audible in your tired, raspy voice.

"Millia...is somethin' wrong...?"

This immediately snapped her out of her stupor, seeing your tired yet worried face. She shook her head lightly both to reassure you and recollect her composure. "No, nothing's wrong... did I wake you, s/o?"

"Yeah... kinda did..."

Her expression immediately fell in sympathy and a bit of remorse. "I see. My apologies. We can go back to sleep if you-"

She trailed off as you interrupted her with a shake of your head. It didn't take much for you to understand the situation. Millia's training as an assassin had conditioned her body to wake up at even the slightest stimulation of any kind. It was necessary for her safety for the majority of her life. You knew that, and you put up with it. For all the times when it was an inconvenience when you shared a bed with her, there were more times when that trained, constant alertness had saved both of your lives. If you had to suffer the occasional rude awakening here and there, so be it. You recognized it was never intentional on her part.

You let out a sleepy, tired sigh as you turned to check the time on the clock that rested on the nightstand next to you. It was already 8:30. You had planned to be productive, and you needed to stick to it, whether you liked it or not. "No, it's alright. About time we got up anyway."

However as you sat up in bed and tossed the blanket off you, you quickly realized the world had intended to wake you up in a rather cold manner as well. However it seemed to have decided to take that word much more literally. The chill of the air sent a shiver down your spine, causing you to instinctively lay down again and set the covers back over yourself.

"What the hell...? Why's it so cold...?"

Millia had felt a bit of the chill too as you'd lifted up the blanket, though she hadn't shown any signs of it visibly bothering her. If it did, you wouldn't have known. "Look outside," she plainly stated, gesturing with her head towards the window. As you looked you saw the gentle snowfall outside, a picturesque scene of winter. According to the forecast though, it certainly did not look like that overnight while you were unconscious.

"Right..." you mumbled with a low, annoyed tone. "You think the storm hit the heater system or something?"

"That's probably the only possible explanation," Millia agreed, albeit not at all happy about it. "That probably means the pipes are also frozen."

"Don't even make me think about that right now," You grumbled in annoyance. Frozen plumbing was currently the last thing you wanted to think about.

Luckily, Millia was more than willing to help you put that off. For the moment, at least.

She scooted herself closer to you, an arm draping over you ever so gently. "Let's not think about that then. This freezing weather isn't going to let up anytime soon. I imagine that's going to put a wrench in our plans no matter what we try to do about it. Let's... just stay here a little while longer, shall we?"

You transition yourself from laying flat on your back to facing Millia, letting your eyes close in contentment as a peaceful expression slowly but surely creeped onto your features. "I guess you do have a point... alright."

You allowed yourself to be held closer to her body, seeking solace from the borderline freezing temperature of the air around you. The warmth of both Millia and the blanket felt almost intoxicating, eating away at any motivation you had to be productive, like a fireplace out in the wild, unpredictable wilderness. And judging by the way she was slowly but surely pulling you closer, strengthening her grip ever so slightly, Millia evidently felt the same way. With your eyes already closed, you could begin to feel yourself drifting back into slumber despite both yourself and the time. This time though, maybe it was for the best. With how hard you and Millia both have been pushing yourselves in your work, this moment of rest, just the two of you was exactly what you needed.

~~~

Can you tell I live in a cold state based on how I wrote this LMFAO

[marinsawakening]

Actually since they orphaned their work like a coward I now feel justified complaining about the fic directly. Not like anyone but me knows who wrote it at this point.

Look at this shit.

Like. Holy shit. Where do I start.

'Impa has a right to be upset but what she said to Link was cruel' wow good thing Ghirahim has never said anything cruel to Link. Certainly not something like, "I'd take pleasure in punishing you, but I have no time for recreation. But next time, I'll do more than just beat you senseless. I'll make the affair so excruciating you'll deafen yourself with the shrill sound of your own screams." That'd be crazy haha. It'd make the author's anger at Impa's 'cruelty' look wildly hypocritical and nonsensical, perhaps fueled by some kind of bigoted bias even. Good thing Ghirahim is a famously kind guy who is never cruel!

Dropping the sarcasm. The mere idea that GHIRAHIM of all people would get angry at Impa for hurting Link's feelings is ridiculous. He literally has an animation of him licking Link's blood of his sword.

Impa told Link a harsh truth, plainly laying out the consequences his failure would have, and did so in an angry way. Ghirahim has threatened to kill and torture Link on multiple occassions, clearly relishing it. And between the two of them, IMPA is the one that gets a whole fic dedicated to insulting her for being 'cruel'? And GHIRAHIM is the valiant protector? GHIRAHIM gets a sympathetic fanon backstory of abuse to expand on his character and his reasons for acting the way he did in canon, but Impa needs to be yelled at, put in her place?

I'm singling out this fic bc there's no author connected to it anymore and it's particularly egregious, but it is far from unique. Damn near every fic with Skyward Sword Impa exists to talk about how she hurt Link's feelings that one time. Even when they try to be evenhanded about it, show Impa in a sympathetic light, these fics exist to make her admit she was wrong, to 'deal with her'.

Link's hurt feelings are a problem to be addressed, but Impa's emotions during this scene are, at absolute best, secondary. Her anger only matters insofar as it hurt Link's feelings, anything that caused this anger only matters insofar as it can be used to explain why she hurt Link's feelings, if it matters at all. As far as large chucks of the fandom are concerned, Impa's whole entire character revolves around that time she hurt Link's feelings, and most of the time, they don't even try to be sympathetic towards her. A brown woman hurt a white guy's feelings and needs to apologize for it, be punished for it.

It's so blatantly, disgustingly racist and sexist, especially when you consider how she is treated in comparison to the other characters in the game who have hurt Link. Ghirahim has a large contingent of fans who give him elaborate abuse backstories to make his character more layered and sympathetic. Groose is a widely beloved character and fics dealing with his bullying of Link are as likely to revolve around his feelings as Link's. Zelda has plenty of fic that are not about that time she manipulated Link. All three of these characters can and do get bashed for hurting Link's feelings, but most of the time, in fics where they have a big role, they aren't reduced to it. Groose's treatment is the closest to Impa's, but finding fics featuring Groose that aren't about him apologizing/being punished for being mean to Link is really not that hard. I have spent enough time digging in the Impa tag to know that's not true for her.

Impa's character is hated, ignored or dismissed a disproportionate amount compared to other characters, even when those characters have done far worse than her. Why are people only interested in thinking about her, writing about her when they can make it about Link? She's a badass ninja who is implied to be the last of her people and have survived the apocalypse. The vast majority of her screentime shows her as kind, gentle even.

So why, why are the vast majority of people only interested in exploring that one time she was mean to Link? How is that more interesting than her relationship to Hylia and Zelda, how she felt during the millenia she spent alone protecting the Triforce, her experiences as being (very probably) the last human on the Surface?

These are rhetorical questions. It's because she's a brown woman. Her actions receive less grace than others' and her character receives less thought than others' because she is a brown woman. If Ghirahim had been a brown woman we'd have a million fics calling him an abusive pedophile rapist, complete with long 'trauma recovery' fics for Link (just look at how Cia gets treated). If Impa had been a white man, she'd have a widespread established tragic fanon backstory by now and would probably be one of the top characters shipped with Link in sksw. And you fucking know it.

I was gonna end it here but I'm still mad so ONE MORE THING:

Congrats, you managed to miss the entire point of the scene you wrote a whole damn fic about! Of COURSE Impa knew Ghirahim was targeting Link! Of COURSE Impa knew that Link was facing obstacles designed to slow him down! Her brain is not, in fact 'dementia-ridden'. She got through the damned dungeon too, didn't she? Her issue is that Link wasn't good enough to get to Zelda in time in spite of these obstacles. Because the whole entire goddamn world is on the line and the Goddess' Chosen is seemingly not up to the job. The truth is Link WAS late, he DID need to get better, or his friend and world would be doomed. If the hero is successfully foiled by evil's obstacles, that's a damn problem!! THAT'S what she was upset about! You wrote a whole goddamn fic insulting her while she's not allowed to even offer a single word of defense and you didn't even understand what she was saying!

God fucking forbid a woman do anything.

[kale-theteaqueen]

And Now She Becomes Death, VI. Rest

---

“You think that mating bond in your chest gives you more right to be in that room than me? Than Elain?” Feyre accused. “You don’t get to claim Nesta just because the Mother wants you to make babies. You have been nothing but cruel to her for months now, what makes you think she even wants to see you?

Cassian reared back, as if he’d been slapped. Feyre was right, of course, but each time he heard it plainly it felt like a blow. Still, the idea of leaving her was… unfathomable.

“She did not tell me to leave,” he gritted out. “I could feel how afraid she was, at the idea of being alone. I promised her I would stay.”

Even now, standing outside her doorway, he felt the heavy pressure to return to her side, to ensure she did not wake without him.

“You are not the only one who can sit with her, Cassian. You do not get to make the decisions here.”

“And you do?” He argued, wings flaring. “You’re the one who always sent me to fetch her, who didn’t want to take no for an answer when she declined your invitations, who constantly complained about her to all of us. Your desire for a happy family did more harm than good, and now you think you’re the one who gets to take care of her?”

“It’s my responsibility.” Feyre snapped. “She is my sister. I already admitted that our tactics were wrong, and you know that. Besides, don’t come for my actions when you didn’t even allow a moment to pass between the two of you before you were at her throat.”

“We all have things to apologize for. But the fact remains that I promised her-”

“Enough.”

---

Tag List: @c-e-d-dreamer @podemechamardek @talkfantasytome @moodymelanist @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @doriansgf @eerievixen @sweet-pea1 @thewayshedreamed @agents-assemble @jsmelodies @aelinchocolatelover @unlikelypersonalknight1 @slipknotvol3 @stylishmuser @lady-winter-sunrise @bri-loves-sunflowers @misswonderflower @acourtofladydeath

[ganonfan1995]

hmm I lied I do have more writing! This is an alternative scene with Zelda revealing the truth of her presence in the past to Gan. This one is a lot longer, more poetic. I actually posted a snippet of this here with some art earlier in the year. It’s an entirely different direction, a bit softer, but I wasn’t entirely happy with how flowery it was.

Not even going to lie I’ve written this scene more times over than I’d like to admit. Though I feel like this could still work in the greater fic. This is only half of the truth after all~

Zelda was perched neatly on the edge of the rooftop, her sun-kissed knees pressed tightly together, betraying her discomfort. Gan stood a short distance away, leaning against a pillar with his arms loosely crossed.

“Is there something I’m missing, or are you going to keep that a secret from me as well?” he prodded.

Zelda remained silent, prompting Gan to roll his eyes in frustration. Despite spending months together, he hadn’t gleaned much from her, aside from the sparse details she deigned to share at the tribunal. Suppressing his irritation, he shuffled closer and settled beside her. She avoided meeting his gaze at all costs, but the reddened edges of her eyes indicated she had been crying.

“Listen, I—” he started, but she drew a knee up to her chest, resting her cheek against it. She seemed impossible to reach, but Gan felt compelled to speak his mind.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, Zelda– Really, that’s not my intention. It’s just– I know next to nothing about you. You contradict yourself at every turn, you're cold and detached, and whenever I try to get close to you or even try to help, you treat me like I’m some sort of villain…”

He noticed Zelda fidgeting, her fingers tracing a crack in the stone. She was listening but had nothing to offer, so Gan continued.

“Sometimes it feels like I’ve done something unforgivable to you,” he confessed. Pausing, he noticed a few stray tears roll down her cheeks as she turned her head slightly. “It’s almost personal, and I want to apologize, to make amends, but I’m not even sure what I’d be apologizing for. For taking you in? For saving you from being thrown out of the city during the upheaval? For trying to be a friend, to understand you?”

If he had been concealing his bitterness, it was now on full display. He pushed a hand back through his hair, exhaling in frustration.

Zelda finally spoke, her voice tinged with grief that continued to elude Gan. “So you truly don’t remember.”

That was cryptic.

Gan puzzled her question for a moment before remembering that this woman had been nothing but cryptic since they met. Deciding to humor her, he replied bluntly. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I truly do not remember.” He attempted to scrub any hint of sarcasm from his tone, but the statement alone felt bizarre enough to verge on sounding sarcastic anyways.

Zelda rubbed her face, her demeanor stoic, but something about his response seemed to soothe her into a more reasonable disposition. “Okay,” she stated plainly, honestly. “I guess I really have no other option but to trust you.” Her words carried weight, yet Gan didn’t let them affect him. He might have been a scoundrel, a brat, and a bit of a smart-ass, but he liked to think he was trustworthy. At the very least, he was true to his word when it truly mattered.

The day's scorching heat peaked, the coast offering little relief with its near-cloudless and unforgiving sky. So when Zelda spoke, Gan couldn't shake an inexplicable shiver down his spine. “The first time this happened, it felt uncanny, unbelievable, but I admitted it right away to the first people who would listen,” she said carefully, still withholding full trust from the ears eagerly listening. “This time, it’s hard to admit it out loud, even to myself. When I’m here with you, and you’re— You’re you, but you’re not him.”

Gan struggled to follow, finding her words making perfect sense to her. He tilted his head curiously, urging her to continue. “Have you always talked in riddles?” He smirked, but Zelda furrowed her brows as if in secret disagreement with herself.

“Ganondorf,” she said, hugging her knees so tightly he feared they might break. “How well do you know yourself, your ambitions, your desires?”

“What kind of question is that? What are you getting at?”

“Please, just… answer the question.”

“Fine, okay!” He gestured dismissively. “It’s not really a question I even know how to answer. How well can I know myself right now? I know my favorite foods, the music I like to dance to at banquets, maybe my ambition is to make my parents proud, to feel like I’ve really grown to fulfill the role of Heroine. As for my desires…” He paused, letting the silence linger between them. “I guess like anyone else, I want a fulfilling life surrounded by good things and good people.”

Zelda seemed content with his answer, and with a heavy sigh, shut her eyes in deep contemplation. “I had a great power once.” She started, carefully articulating each and every one of her words. “I was a princess, born with the sole purpose of defending an old and weary kingdom. Had it all gone as planned, perhaps I’d have grown old in that kingdom, taken my place as queen as my ancestors had all done before me. My people held claim to that power, my power, it’s what brought us peace and prosperity, a gift from our goddess. But we forgot ourselves, our history, and I so selfishly yearned to uncover it.

The last calamity was my first, and I failed in my task to prevent it from taking place. It was my only job, the only thing my station required of me. But my ears were deaf to divine words, and I struggled to find my latent powers until all I had ever known and loved was shattered, destroyed right in front of me. Finally, when I thought it had all come to an end, when my last hero fell in the field, that guilt, that remorse, that desperation came flowing out of me all at once. Whatever grief I carried with me, the demons, the pain of losing my friends one by one until all that stood between me and that beast was a soldier no older than myself— then, and only then I felt it. I felt that power, that light. I wasn’t able to turn back time, funnily enough. If I knew that I could, maybe it would have turned out for the better. He’d have his life, I’d have mine, and all those I held dear would be returned home.

There’s a beast who haunted our kingdom, and for the longest time I never understood what that creature wanted. I spent a long time with it after that final battle, after my power had awoken bound together in a stasis that spanned a century. All the while I watched as my home crumbled and my people rebuilt. All that time I kept thinking to myself, the second I step foot on those hallowed grounds, breathing in the smell of sweet grass and summer wine, I’d do better. I’d rebuild with them, I’d change, I’d do as I was told, I’d keep sweet and do what was right for them.

For some time I did that, I settled down, built a school— and as reluctant as I was, even taught at it. I adored those children, and they adored me, but strange as it may seem I was deeply envious of their blissful innocence. Initially, I taught history to emphasize the importance of our losses, but if I’m honest, I only ever wanted them to grieve as I did— to take with them a piece of my own misery so I felt less alone. But children don’t like scary stories, and overtime they become less interested in their historical lessons. Their parents preferred that I spent time on more productive matters, farming, animal husbandry, you know, practical pastoral skills fit for rural life.

I was born nobility, so naturally I spent less and less time at the school, until I found myself locked up in my study, away from prying eyes. Despite having sealed the beast away with my own two hands, I felt something pulling at my soul, like there was something unfinished. And one night, one cold and long forgotten night, a memory from my childhood lurked at the edges of my mind. A story about an evil that slept under the floors of my home, deep under the old bricks, the old halls, in a crypt long since sealed off. And I couldn’t let it go. For months it lingered in my subconscious, like a broken shutter rasping day and night against the side of my house. Somedays I would forget it when the wind was still, but then it would come all over again, creaking, creaking, creaking.

I put together a survey team, I set up a base, and in my foolishness I stormed my former home and prison with a purpose. And through the basement, down the stairs, and the winding dusty crypt there stood a door. An old, old, door, made of iron and steel. It was shut tight, but I urged our team to break it down–I ordered them–even though they were scared, even though they were finally safe, after a century of misfortune. I ordered them to break down the only thing keeping that— that monster from resurfacing, and they followed through, because I was their ruler, their goddess, their princess returned. They loved me, they trusted me, and I betrayed that trust for a selfish little hobby.

And there, down deep in that crypt I heard him call to me, a voice sweetened with venom, urging me closer, ever so close. It was an angry voice, wrought with hunger and disgust, but I beckoned to it as if it were a siren call. Somewhere deep within my soul that shutter broke clean off the hinges, it lay broken against the foundation of my home, and I knew I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been. Yet I was satisfied, my curiosity quenched like a desperate thirst in the blistering heat. I know now I should have fixed that shutter, bolted it shut so it could never rasp again, yet I let it remind me over and over and over again, that something more lay dormant beneath the halls of my childhood home. But when I saw him, his mangled, aging corpse, suspended in time, with the hand of the founding king buried deep within his chest, I felt everything but regret. All my apprehension faded from my subconscious, long enough to allow myself to be seduced by that unyielding and violent melody. Then in a split second, all I knew slipped out from underneath me yet again, I slipped into what felt like an unwinding eternity, and then I awoke, not in the crypt or under the castle.”

Gan sat rigid, eyes fixed on her with avid interest. He sensed a faint familiarity to the tale, a fleeting remembrance from a long-ago dream. However, the feeling dissipated as quickly as it arose. Without feeling compelled to interject, he allowed her to continue with rapt attention. At that moment, Zelda unfolded her knees from her chest. From a necklace concealed under the collar of her tunic, she retrieved a small stone bead, no larger than the palm of her hand. Her secret stone, nestled among jade and copper beads, had lost its divine luster— the surface now dulled to a shallow sheen resembled a quartz more than anything else. Holding it loosely between her fingers, she let it sway gently. Gan observed intently, searching for any significance it might hold.

"At first, I believed it to be a nightmare, or maybe I had perished in the cave-in. Despite its appearance now, this bead once possessed a property that allowed its user to amplify the power latent within their souls. And my power... was time, and I had unintentionally transported myself back in history…precisely 40 years from now."

Gan leaned in for a closer look, but almost instinctively, she snatched the gem away, her eyes wide with an unfounded fear. Though he had no intention of taking it from her, Zelda's strong reaction prompted him to give her space. He reclined on his arm, giving her room.

"So, how did you get here?" he asked innocently. Zelda remained guarded, her eyes scanning Gan for any potential threat, any sign of trickery or deceit. But in the young man who remained composed and genuinely curious, she found none. She tried to ease her nerves delicately, coaxing them to settle, but the result lingered in uncertainty.

"I should— that's enough." Then, without hesitation, the tension that had built up inside her reached its peak, prompting her to rise and leave.

Gan hurried to catch up, but she moved swiftly. Instant anxiety gripped him, and with a quick reach, he caught hold of her cape, halting her abruptly. Zelda froze, unmistakably gripped by sudden fear. Trembling, she fiercely swung her hand to bat away Gan's gentle grip.

"Don't touch me!" Her shout pierced through him, not directed at him, but seemingly through him, as if he were the beast from her past.

Gan stood there, dumbfounded. Zelda did not dare move a muscle, like a fawn caught by hunting dogs. “I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized, retracting his hand in an instant. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I didn’t think.”

Zelda blinked, caught in a daze by his sudden apology, and took a step back.

“Please, don’t run away.” He urged, sincerity plain on his face. “I don’t want you to run away, I only wanted to talk. I won’t hurt you, you’ve been through a lot, thank you, Zelda. Thank you for telling me, we can stop now.”

Zelda steadied herself, drawing in a shaky breath, her gaze seeming somewhat distant. "Why are you apologizing to me?"

Uncertain if she was addressing him directly, Gan gestured in confusion. "What do you mean— You're shaking like a leaf? I clearly crossed a boundary." He explained, sensing Zelda’s unease. Lowering his gaze, he spoke calmly, trying to convey patience. "Listen, I don't fully understand what's going on, and if you're not comfortable talking about it, we don't have to. I don't want to push."

She nodded, her gaze fixed on her feet, her hands a picture of anxiety. Despite her unease, she didn't show any intention of fleeing. Instead awkwardness and fear warred within her, keeping her rooted to the spot. “Thank you.” A small voice fluttered from her lips, it was sad but rife with gratitude.

He nodded in turn, and without really thinking, offered her his hand. He had no idea how to comfort her, only that he wanted to, but Zelda wore thorns for armor, and any kindness he showed prior was usually met with sudden fear and hostility. However, this time the gesture was small and from a distance, and her thorns ceased to pierce his skin. To his surprise, delicate fingers found their place against his and held on tight, as if a century of grief could be unwound with a single hand held.

They stayed like that, under the heavy heat of the afternoon sun, hand in hand on the roof of his childhood villa. They spoke no words, shared no glances, only the pulse that emanated through Zelda’s fingertips percussed the space between them. Had it not been for the crashing of the waves from the nearby shore, he’d have heard his own heart percuss as well, in time with hers.