#i just wanted to write them being supportive

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

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Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

L&DS Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[pomefioredove]

helloo! ^^ can I req hcs of dorm leaders + Rollo and neige with a fencer reader? If it's okay with you, ofc!! I really enjoy and love your writing 🫶

ofc and thank you! ^-^

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fencer reader

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, neige, idia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, short

Riddle would be into it. he goes on and on about what a dignified choice of sport that is, how he's always wanted to try it, on and onnn. I just think he's really into swords. he'll ask to watch you practice, all giddy and cute. the guy is genuinely fangirling

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona is like... okayyy. and? you can play with sharp objects? he grew up in a palace surrounded by guards and nobility, he probably had his first sword when he was three

defo challenges you to a duel because he thinks it would be funny. and he WINS

(then he buys you whatever you want as a consolation prize bc he's soft for you)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

[Azul voice] please no weapons or magic in the lounge

...you'll have to demonstrate for the (very eager and interested) tweels outside from now on

Azul will, of course, come to watch. he'd be interested in anything you do, really, because it's you. and watching you try to tell the tweels they can't really kill each other with these kinds of swords is amusing

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim is somehow 100% convinced he can teach himself how to fence within in a week. he thinks you're that cool, and, sevens does he want to play with swords. he probably has a lot of them, too, which Jamil very strongly advises him not to touch (because he has little regard for himself or his surroundings).

Kalim will let you take as many as you want when you come over. he does not know that these aren't the swords you use in fencing

still... um, it's the thought that counts, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

like with any sport, Vil can respect your dedication to your passion. and you have really good posture. he would get Epel to join you, but the thought of that boy with access to weapons of any kind, safe or not... yeah

he's nowhere near your level, of course, but he's always happy to help you with any aches or pains from bouts. in return, you can help him rehearse for roles that require swordsmanship. fair enough

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the Neige Leblanche, swooning? yes, actually!! I can't overstate how much of a sucker he is for the whole... dashing and chivalrous thing. it's the sword, yes, but it's also the outfit, the rules, the way you're so... charming. you could pull him 100%

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is a simple man. he sees someone being really good at a niche sport he knows from his fav manga and anime, and he absolutely trips over himself. literally head over heels. blushing, giggling, et cetera, he's just such a freak about this sort of thing (affectionately)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

ah, Malleus. if anyone here can appreciate swordsmanship in all its forms, it's him. with his royal guard and his knights and his freaky gothic castle...

he'll probably invite you to fence with him, and he completely wipes the floor with you (this is Malleus Draconia we're talking about, after all). but lovingly!

he's having the time of his life :)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wakey wakey Rollo fans

to be engaged in a non-magical activity, based on agility, wit, and, arguably intelligence, in which there is form and order and rules...

of course, you have his full support

he somehow shows up at all your bouts, is with you before and after practice, and takes his duties as your companion very, very seriously

[cry4mina]

Heaven

(Nayeon x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 6.9k

Fluff/Smut

Summary: After being with Nayeon for a while, it's clear that she is your future. You both decide it's time to move in with each other, this fic takes place on move in day!

TW: Fluffy, cute, oral, fingering, a little nipple play, strap ons, teasing, lots of almost moments. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: @dovveri (the precious angel) had asked me to expand on this MONTHS ago and I took my sweet ass time (I stalled bc fluff is not my strong suit.) BUT it here now and I hope you enjoy it!<3

Also! Happy 6 Months to Cry4Mina! I know I say I'm grateful for all of you all the time but hitting 600 followers AND it being my 6 months of writing has really just been amazing.

Thank you all for taking the time to read my works, the support you've given me and all the love! I'm really looking forward to writing a lot of the drafts that I have, and interacting with everyone! I hope you all have such a lovely day/night and get you a little sweet treat! <3

The walls are blank. Every place where art once hung, now patched with tack and smoothed over. Boxes lining the small living room and parts of the kitchen…reliving some of the sacred memories built here when your phone chimes, interrupting the sweet thoughts. You to pull it out of your pocket to check the notification.

Nay: I’m outside baby (9:45am)

Not even bothering to reply, you just pull the door open to see a U-haul truck backed into the parking spot closest to your soon to be old front door and Nayeon no where in sight.

Looking around in confusion, you hear the clattering of the big metal rolling door on the back of the truck.

Eyes meeting the sound as it rattles, ascending upwards and stopping in place. A petite Nayeon lifting it and climbing into the back to push it all the way to the top, revealing the empty truck she rented just for the things you decided to bring along with you.

She leaves you completely breathless, per usual…but today, being the day you were moving in together, your heart throbbed with love and affection for your beautiful girlfriend.

White sneakers with long white socks up to her knees, black shorts that were intentionally too short, a top that had hints of purple and a trucker hat to finish the look off. Appearing as if she just got out of a photoshoot or filming a video or something more extravagant than helping you move.

Your jaw hit the floor as she half jogged up to you, and jumping into your arms and wrapping her legs around you, expecting you to hold her up while her forearms found their place on your shoulders and her hands were interwoven with themselves.

Being sure to catch her, providing some support from under her, she lean back and grabbed your cheeks, kissing them one, two, three times before completely beaming at you from the few inches she had of height on you in this position.

“Hi, baby!,the ” another kiss, this one on the lips, to taper off her sentence while her hands found their way around your neck once more.

“Hi, my love, you look amazing.” absorbing her like flowers take in the sun, feeling her skin on yours was magic.

“Only for you.” watching as her eyes convert to a half lidded seduction, her tone emanated a specific type of want that could only be translated privately, very very privately.

Nayeon reverts the seductive face, unwrapping her legs and stand on her own, keeping her hands connected around your neck and pulling you into an even bigger hug, fingers tapping on your shoulder blades to the song she was humming, before shimmying in your arms.

Both of you start giggling before she finally lets go of you, very obviously excited about this adventure you were going on together. Her hand finds yours, lightly gripping it and swinging it around while she talks.

“Okay, so the movers should be here any minute - we are loading what you’re keeping into this truck” pointing to the one that she pulled up in.

“And anything we are going to donate will go in the movers truck, they will drop it off and then we will go…home, the movers will meet us there and we will get everything organize. Sound like a plan?” the loving look she gives you when she says home made your knees weak, jelly filled joints fighting to hold the weight of the love you held for her every thing she did, but especially when she said something sweet or looked at you a certain way.

“Sounds good, babe.” uttered over the squeaking of the brakes from the truck of movers that just pulled up and her squealing at the sight of them.

The 3 men come over, asking you for detailed instructions on what to keep and what to put in the “donation” truck. Most of the things you were keeping was in boxes but you were keeping your king sized bed, Nayeon was too in love with it to even think about getting a new one.

“But it’s already broken in on my side, I don’t want to do that again. Don’t you like sleeping on a cloud? I can’t believe you’re considering a new one…” argued a few weeks ago when you half way discussed what furniture you wanted to keep.

Both of you decided the living room would be the focus first, you’d want a new couch if anything. Wanting to pick out the decorations together for each room would be a fun bonding experience and that was something you were very much looking forward to.

“Alright, we will get started.” One of the men said, walking into the living room and starting with the couch you weren’t going to keep, taking it to the donation truck while you and Nayeon focused on the boxes.

Slowly removing everything from the apartment until it was completely empty, you couldn’t help but have a little moment of sadness, not that you were upset about this new chapter in your life with Nayeon, but more so the memories of this apartment and what it meant to you.

Nayeon sees you staring at the bare walls and taking the last walk through of the place to make sure everything was taken care of. Waiting for you to have your moment, she doesn’t rush you, simply leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed, silently watching the emotions change across your face.

It’s an emotional transition, even if it’s a good one. This place was where you built your relationship, the foundation of the steady and healthy bond you and her shared. Moving in together was a massive step that you were more than ready to take, but you couldn’t help allow the nostalgia consume you for a moment as a few tears roll down your cheek.

Feeling her eyes on your back, the edges of your mouth turn up knowing the exact look she’s giving you before you even see it.

“I can feel you watching me” giggling through the droplets that threatened to drip down your chin, you try to wipe them before she can see.

“Don’t try to hide it, I know you’re crying!” she walks up behind you, giving you a hug from behind and resting her head on your shoulder blades.

Sniffling while trying to gain your composure again, Nayeon just holds you until your breath smooths out more. Rocking you from side to side in attempts to comfort you.

“Don’t worry, baby” spinning you around carefully so you can face her; she likes to make eye contact when she speaks.

“This is going to be great! And do you want to know the best part?” leaning into you, putting her weight on you to make you hold her back.

“What’s the best part, my love?”

“We get to do it together!” Nayeon practically tackles you to the ground, smooching you all over the face and tickling you in the process.

Rolling around and trying to avoid her hands as you both laugh, you love how playful your relationship with her is. She always knew how to make you smile, in every single way you could imagine.

Once she put a halt to the tickle fest she brought on, she was straddling you on the floor, hands resting on your stomach and your hands were on her thighs. You sit up, placing your hands on her ass and scoot her into you.

Faces so close you can feel her breath on your lips, you can tell she’s riled up from the way you’re looking at her and your hand placement, it was easier to get her worked up - easier than she would like to admit.

Reaching your hands up from your girlfriend’s thighs and trailing them up her chest, watching as her breath hitches when you pass her collarbones.

Gliding your digits up her neck and to her cheeks, you feel her flush - a noticeable wave of heat rushing through her.

Sight going from her lips, up to her eyes, and then back down to her lips again, you bring her mere centimeters from your mouth.

Her breathing speeds up.

Feeling her heart race through your fingertips, the way her eyes were locked in on you, and the way she held you close without an inch of wiggle room…you knew exactly what she was thinking about…and what she wanted.

“Baby” breathed to her, teasing her with your whispers and the distance between your lips.

Nayeon’s is completely enthralled, looking like she wants to beg for you to touch her. Eyes returning to their half lidded state from earlier, she starts rocking her hips on your lap, you stop her immediately.

“Not yet, baby. We still have work to do…and I want pizza for dinner.” kissing her forehead before standing with her still attached to you.

“You’re like a koala, you know that?” chuckling at her for not letting go of you, bringing her outside with you and locking the door.

She whines really loudly, “Fuck you, ugh”

“Whyyyyyyy? What did I do?!” gasped back in fake shock, you knew exactly why she was saying it. She rests her head on your shoulder.

“Because, you did that on purpose!” Pouting at the state she’s in.

“Did what on purpose, honey?” kissing her cheeks while walking her to your car that she was planning on drive to the new place.

Nayeon gets down off you and sticks her hands out for your keys with a fake attitude, you dangle them in front of her. She attempts to snatch them, but you’re too quick and she misses.

“Did what on purpose?” poking her chest lightly just to get a little rise out of her.

She leans into your ear closely, playing with the collar of your shirt before she speaks soft sultry words right into you.

“For making me wet and making me wait to feel you.”

Jaw dropping for a second time tonight, she kisses your check tenderly. Winking at you while she bites her lip. She takes the keys out of your hand and replaces them with the U-Haul keys.

“Last one home buys dinner!” rapidly getting into the car and backing out of the driveway.

Still standing in the same spot, unable to stop yourself from smiling at how goofy she is. Shaking your head while giggling, it’s impossible not to fall deeper in love with her by the day.

Turning around one last time, admiring what was home in the afternoon light before getting into the truck and going to what was your next chapter of life.

—

The drive wasn’t too long, maybe 30 minutes at most. Driving in silence, you’re excited to get settled in your new place. Living in the memory of when you and Nayeon toured the apartment you’d be moving into.

Hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, massive windows that were floor to ceiling, and the lighting fixture in the dinning area that Nayeon fell in love with.

Remembering the way she exclaimed “baby, look at this!” At every turn, around every corner, you both knew this was the place you were going to start the adventure of living together.

The island in the kitchen was what you were particularly excited about, having more room to cook for her when you had a moment. She didn’t know that was the intention, but being able to surprise her with it some night would be great.

Turning the corner to the complex, you already see your car in the assigned spot. Nayeon is leaning on the drivers side door, scrolling through her phone when you back the truck in next to her.

“Ha! Dinner is on you tonight!” Happily skipping over to the drivers side door as you hop out of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah!” waving your hand and rolling your eyes before smirking at her.

“Pepperoni and extra cheese, please!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go check out the place!” putting your hand out in front of her with puckered lips, waiting for your keys and a kiss, she’s happy to give both.

—

As you reach the elevator, you notice the weight of your keys is different. Looking down while stepping into the metal box what was going to get you to the floor you apartment was on - you notice a light blue key with an N and a heart on it.

Toying with the key in your hand, you look up at her to see she’s distracted and doesn’t know that you’ve noticed the cute little surprise she’s placed on your key ring while she was waiting for you to arrive.

“Baby” called to her softly from a foot away.

Nayeon looks over at you, eyes looking directly into yours and then down at the keys in your hands, showing her the one she placed on your keyring.

She smiles, pulling her keys off her belt loop, flashing you a key with your initial and a heart next to it, in your favorite color.

“I thought it would be a nice cute little surprise for our move in day.” intertwining her pinky with yours.

“Thank you, it’s so cute and thoughtful.”

The elevator dings, sliding the doors open and allowing you and your girlfriend to step into the hallway.

Taking the corridor to the right, Nayeon basically pulling you to the door of your new home. The door was black with shiny brass numbers reflecting back to you.

She slips her key into the door, the heavy lock turns and clicks into place. Nayeon looks over at you and smiles before pushing the door open and squealing in excitement, jumping in place. Gosh, she’s so cute.

Grabbing her hand before she can run inside, you pull her close to you, pressing your body against hers. She’s going to take this as you teasing her, but really you just had something you wanted to do.

“Wait a sec, I think we should be a little traditional about this.”

“Traditional?” Scoffed at you while her hands are wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah, traditional…” placing your hand behind her legs and scooping her up into your arms, bridal style, before she can protest.

Nayeon squeals at being lifted up but her arms instinctively wrap around your neck. When she realizes what you’re doing she starts giggling at the sweetness of the moment.

Unable to take her eyes off you as you take your step over the threshold into your new home. One of her rather large hands descends to your chest, placing it flat under your collar bone.

“Home.” said lightly under your breath but loud enough for her to hear you, panning the emptiness of the apartment you were about to fill with not only your physical things, but the love you had for each other.

Removing her hand off your chest, she uses her fingers to turn your head towards her and kisses you softly.

“Home.” Pointing one of her fingers into your chest, bring her lips back to yours.

Resting your foreheads together, you lower her legs to signal her to stand on her own. She whines in protest, leaning against you as she fights against regaining her balance.

“Are you ready?” Grabbing her hand, looking her in the eyes and smiling.

“Never been more ready, actually.” Kissing the top of your hand, grabbing her phone and checking her messages to see the other team of movers was outside and ready to move the furniture into your new space.

“They’re here!” Gleefully jumping in place again before heading for the door.

“Let’s go!” Following closely behind her and slapping her ass playfully.

Nayeon lets out a soft moan. Whipping around to look at you to see if you’ve heard, covering her mouth with her hand trying to hide her own shock and the flushing in her cheeks.

Eye widen as before you let out a thunderous laugh.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can take care of that later.” Kissing her forehead and leading her down to the elevator by her hand, with her trying to cover the flushed cheeks she now wears in embarrassment.

—

“Hmm…maybe a little more to the left? This doesn’t feel centered to me.” Nayeon is pensive, finger on her cheek as she asks the movers, yet again, to move the bed over so it’s perfectly centered in your new bedroom.

“Babe, it looks fine where it is!” Chiming in from the closet where you were hanging all of the clothes you had smartly packed on hangers so they’d be easier to deal with.

Organizing the closet so the left side was hers and the right side was yours, you could hear her sigh from the other room.

Picturing her exact movements in your minds eye, you knew she was shifting her weight from one leg to another, biting her pointer finger with her other arm crossed over her chest.

“Okay…I hear you…but what if we scooted it over just a little bit to the ri-“ sneaking up behind her and silencing her with a soft bite to the neck causing her to stifle a whine.

“I think it’s perfect where it is, Nayeon.” kissing her cheek before you turn your attention to the movers.

“Thank you so much for your help today!” shaking their hands as they leave the room and walk out the front door.

“Baby, I really don’t know if I like the bed in this position or not.” Nayeon’s hands are on her hips again, trying to figure out if it would look better centered on the other wall.

“Honey…we can rearrange any time we want. No worries, let’s just get the rest of the house together, okay?” you throw the sheets at her for her to make the bed she was scowling at and head back to continue what you’ve been doing in the closet.

Nayeon followed you into the closet, sheets in hand, with a pout that would make anyone drop what they’re doing to please her.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Pausing the organizing of your clothes as you spoke to her.

“I’m hungry and the bed is crooked.” she sighs and give a playful little stomp, throwing the cutest tantrum you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll order the pizza now then, okay?” pulling your phone out to send through the order you already prepared for the two of you.

“But what about the bed?”

“We can fix it later, okay? Just put the sheets on it and we will worry about it after dinner.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes and heads out of the closet to complete the task at hand.

After about 5 minutes goes by, a frustrated grumble echoes through the room, followed by shouting and sighing.

“Ugh! This bed is crooked! It’s not freaking centered!” Nayeon huffs as she finishes putting the sheets on, trying to scoot the heavy bed and frame over an inch or two to make it “centered”.

She’s so dramatic.

You adore this part of her.

“Let me see.” Finishing up the last of the closet and stepping out to see what she how “crooked” it was.

The bed was straight against the wall…there’s no way it could’ve actually been crooked. Giving her a side eyed glare, you lightly push her shoulder.

“It’s perfectly straight, what do you mean?” Chuckling at her while you put your hands up in confusion.

“No, it’s not! Look!”

Nayeon squats down in front of the bed, point and explaining how it’s not lined up with the floor boards and all you can do is admire how passionately she’s making her case about something so silly.

Just smiling, you walk up to her as she continues on her rant about the bed.

“So you see, that’s why it’s not straight because this is…not…” tilting her head up, eyes lacing every part of you as you step up to her and place a finger under her chin.

“I think it looks good, don’t you?” leading her to stand, her eyes still not leaving you.

Nayeon stutters through her mentions of now suddenly agreeing with you.

“O-oh, uhm…y-yes, I don’t t-think we should move it at all.”

She’s so cute.

Hooking a finger into on of her belt loop, tugging it so she somewhat falls into you. Using that to your advantage, swiftly turning and falling yourself. Landing flat with your back on the bed with her strategically on top of you.

Her surprised face hovering over yours, she hoists her leg over your torso, straddling your hips instinctively and putting you right back where you were only a few hours ago at your old apartment.

“Oops, wow! I can’t believe you would trip like that. So clumsy of you! Even if I do love meeting you like this…” tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“And what if I meet you like this” leaning in and brushing her lips against yours, the warmth between her legs gives a flash of familiarity, and her sultry tone brings a rush of endorphins, melting your heart and ruining any sense of composure you had.

“I can feel your heart beating…do I still make you nervous?” whispered against your lips before connecting them completely.

Soft and slow turns into passionate and needy very quickly.

The steamy make out session escalated into you tugging Nayeon’s shirt off, trying to minimize the time your lips spent apart.

Nayeon’s tongue tracing your lips before she stood up and started undoing on your belt, the clattering of her impatience matching the buckle as it hit the floor.

Hastily unbuttoning your pants, tugging them down without hesitation. She needed you, rapid movements serve as proof of her hunger, the way she doesn’t care how aggressively she’s ripping the black denim off your thighs.

Haphazardly tossing each piece of clothing as she rips it off you, first your belt, then your pants, and your shirt following very closely behind, your hands helping discard the unwanted fabric.

“Finally…I get to have you how I’ve been wanting you allll da-“

The doorbell cuts her sentence off.

“You’re kidding…” Nayeon’s body tenses, sighing as she runs a finger down your stomach as she rolls her eyes in disdain at who ever just pushed the button that caused the chime that stopped her from taking you the way she had been imagining.

“That would be dinner.” Giggling at her frustration, only adding to it.

Nayeon just rolls her eyes and stands up, grabbing her shirt and throwing it on while mumbling to herself and mindlessly flicking off the front door before opening it.

You opt to just slip on a pair of black sweat pants and walk around in your sports bra, leaving your bedroom and hearing her say thank you to the pizza delivery boy before latching the door shut and locking it.

Grabbing some paper plates from the kitchen, bringing them to the empty living room and sitting on the floor next to Nayeon, and turning the TV on to put on a random YouTube video while you guys eat.

Taking a few bites and then looking over at her, you see she’s scrolling through her phone with an annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“What do you think about this?” Flipping her phone around to show a coffee table with a glass top made of light wood and gold accents.

“Oh that’s cute!” Leaning into her and scrolling to see if it had any matching sets.

“So I was thinking” she starts, “what if we did like a sage green with gold accents and with like light wood and a lot of plants for the living room.” taking a bite of her slice of pizza and doing a little happy dance now that she’s finally eating.

“I love that idea but let’s do a little contrast.” Clicking on the black version of the gold laced table and showing her.

“Wait…you might be on to something here.” Scrolling down and seeing the matching furniture that goes along with the table.

“I did save a couch I saw, let me find it.” quickly pulling up the lighter green couch she had in mind and showing it to you.

“Oh, babe, that’s perfect!” Leaning over and kissing her cheeks before taking another bite of your pizza.

“I think it would match so well with the gold accents and…” she rattles on about

Spending the entirety of dinner talking about placement and furniture, you find yourselves tired from a long day of planning, organizing and moving things around.

Taking it upon yourself to pack up the left-overs from dinner in the kitchen, you can’t help but wonder where your girlfriend has gone off too.

“Nayeonieeeeeeeee!” called out when you hear her cackle from the master bedroom.

“I’m in here, baby!” echoed off the walls to the empty living room.

“You better not moving that bed again!” Sliding the pizza box into the fridge, laughing to yourself about the joke you just made.

“I’m NOT! Ugh!” you walk into your new shared bedroom to see Nayeon on FaceTime with Momo, talking about the moving process and how smoothly it went with the company she recommended.

Catching her attention was fairly easy as you were still very shirtless and the sweatpants you wore to cover up were a little big on you, falling off almost so the waistband of your underwear was sticking out for her to see.

“Momo when you come over tomorrow, we will give you a tour! Besides we still have some…things to…” she’s staring right at you, eye shifting from your exposed waistband up to your bare torso.

An idea pops into your head, an idea that would bring her to her knees and back to where you were an hour or two ago.

Making eye contact with her while she zones out, you tug on the string that is keeping your sweatpants anchored on your hips, letting them drop to the floor before you step out of them. Her jaw drops at how suddenly exposed you are with only your panties and your bra covering you…for now.

Slipping your fingers under the hem of what was covering your chest, you slowly pull it off over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. Twirling the bra by it’s strap around your finger, you fling it at her, it lands on her legs.

Nayeon’s eyes bugged out of her head, like a cartoon character, as she sat up - readjusting her position out of what seemed to be a little bit of gay panic mixed with anticipation.

“….hey, uhm…let me call you back.” Nayeon quickly hangs up the phone as Momo’s protest began through the speaker.

“Wait! Nayeon we have to talk abou-” click.

You have her right where you want her.

She stands, hastily making her way over to you. Hands reaching out to make contact, she’s pulling you in close, laying her hands on your hips and tracing small circles that travel to your lower back and to the waistband she was just staring at.

“You have all my attention, honey.” kissing your cheeks, trailing feather-light kisses down your jaw line and onto the side of your neck before bringing her lips back to yours.

Within minutes of this sweet dangerous kiss beginning, you’d devolve into a melted version of your former self with only her name stuck in your throat and the flavor of her lips at the tip of your tongue as it familiarizes itself with hers again, noting every predicted movement and sway of her as she holds you in front of her.

Arms raising up and resting on her shoulders, your fingers weave with her hair, pulling her into your further and pressing your chest against her same purple shirt from earlier.

“Take this off.” parting from her for only a moment to give her the command to remove the article of clothing that was in your way before returning your mouth to hers.

Maintaining eye contact, she rips her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere else and continuing on the entanglement you were creating with her, unsnapping her bra and letting it chase her shirt to else where.

Now shirtless with you, chests pressing up against each other, she takes charge. Leading you to the “crooked” bed and pushing you down onto the sheets, playfully.

“Finally,” she breathes, unbuttoning her shorts and letting them fall to the floor and kicking them out of the way.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you this morning. And when you carried me over the threshold?” clenching her entire body at the memory, a familiar shutter cascades through her body.

“I never wanted you more than in that moment…except for maybe right now.”

Watching as she relaxes again, her hands on either side of you, and she’s making half lidded eye contact with you when she brings a hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your underwear and reminding your body of what it was feeling earlier.

Leaning down to kiss you again, she’s intensifying her touch on you. Rubbing your clit through the now damp fabric of your underwear and letting you moan and whine into her mouth. The touch is fueling every fire you’ve felt in the last 12 hours.

“Fuck…Nayeon” whined into her mouth as she pulls your panties to the side, drenching her finger in your slick, coasting it up and down your slit while you match her movements with your hips.

She spends a moment kissing and toying with your chest, flicking your nipples with her tongue, lightly grazing her teeth over them. She slithers back up to your face and kisses you again.

“Finally touching you after a long day of wanting to feel you like this…” bringing her hand up to lick your essence off her long digits.

“To taste you like this…” bringing her lips down to yours, kissing you deeply and letting your own taste linger on your tongue.

Usually being the one that maintains composure, you were finding it difficult to keep the pace steady, after all the “almost” moments earlier today, you were having thoughts of just flipping her over and doing all the work.

Intense bodily reactions that are out of your control fling you into desperation, body begging for more of her touch, and gripping her harder to make sure she knows what you want, though it was obvious, your body language gave you away.

The rocking of your hips, the repressed moans, the less than pure lust that burned you from the inside were shinning through every single motion you made.

Nayeon noticed.

Her teeth graze your ear before she descended down your body with small bites, intentional swipes of her tongue and soft sweet pecks in between.

It wasn’t long before your ass was hanging off the edge of the bed and she was on her knees between your legs.

Without even looking at her, you can feel the smirk she has as she tugs on the elastic that was holding what was in her way up, and removes it - almost ripping it in the process.

“Damn, baby. You look so fucking good like this.” running her thumb up and over your clit a few times, teasing your entrance with every few passes.

Brain glitching under her touch, the cravings were too strong and you were too addicted to contain yourself any longer. Thrusting your hips down on her next tease of your entrance, her thumb slips inside you causing a guttural moan to leave your throat.

“Someone is eager.” giggled at you before removing her thumb, licking your slick off of it.

Whining in protest, you are about to beg for her when you feel it. The warmth of her tongue, starting at the bottom of your entrance and snaking its way up your folds and over your clit before latching onto it.

“Nayeon, ple- ooooh fuck!” hissed out in pleasure, hands flying up to the back of her head, wrapping her hair up in your hands and holding it into a makeshift ponytail as her tongue made work of you.

A delicate dance that she was more than good at, teasing and flicking at your sensitive bud before finally starting the pattern that she knew was what was going to keep you right where she needed you.

Sucking and smacking while she whirled her tongue in tightknit circles around your clit, completely focused on the way your back was arching, body twitching underneath her, and the sounds you were making for her.

Moaning her name, the breathy “oh fucks”, and the unprovoked “please please please” always made a mess of her underwear. She loved to hear you in this way, loved to have you in such a vulnerably delicious position to which she could bring you every ounce of pleasure you could ever want.

The build up ensues, the tightly woven tension in your core was stacking like tetris on the want that had been taunting you all day. Deep, primal yearning for your partner was all consuming and it was apparent that the feeling was mutual.

That’s when you feel it, her long pointer finger teasing your entrance, waiting for you to do exactly what Nayeon knew you would. Thrusting your hips down onto her finger and grinding onto it, doing the work for her while she quickened the pace of her circular movements on your clit.

The vibration of her chuckling with her mouth still attached to you was excruciating. Giggling at your neediness only made the desperation worse, vibrating and stimulating the very sensitive bud causing the pot to boil over, burning the coil that threatened to snap at any moment.

“Baby…oh fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum” pulling her head closer to you and grinding harder down on her finger.

Nayeon smiles, curling her finger up one, two, three times and then rips herself away from you.

Completely dismantling everything she just built, ruining the orgasm and sending you into a spiral of desperation and anger.

“Fuck, WHY would you do THAT?!” panting out furiously as you sit up on your elbows so you can glare at the cheeky smile she’s got plastered on her face.

Rolling your eyes and slamming yourself back down on the mattress, you hear the sound of leather sliding across the wooden nightstand. Nayeon stands, stepping into the harness of the all too familiar strap-on that was very present on nights like this.

The actual strap was different than your usual one, noting that the rings were more angular, the color of the leather was slightly darker, and you couldn’t help but notice the new attachment that was fixed to the strap that would go between Nayeon’s legs.

Slipping it inside herself with ease, a whimper leaving her lips while she buckled herself in and prepared for what was to come.

Feeling yourself drip in anticipation, the pooling of slick underneath you was rapidly growing out of control as Nayeon tugged your hips closer to the edge of the bed.

You could feel the tip of the familiar toy pressing against your folds as she leaned down and softly bit your chest. Shivers of anticipation radiated through your bones as you patiently waited for her to make the initial thrust that would turn into you becoming undone underneath her.

Breathing picking up for both of you, the tension so thick between you that every touch from her felt like jolts of static electricity that had the power of lightening.

“Baby…” unable to wait anymore, you had thought about her this way all day, on top of you with that half lidded smirk.

“Please.” Cupping her face, bringing her closer to you while lifting your legs up and wrapping them around her hips.

Taking the hint, she eases her hips forward, sinking her strap into you painstakingly slow, inch by inch until she was completely bottomed out inside you.

Moaning into her mouth as you continue to passionately make out, she takes it slow with you. Sensually rocking her hips gently and letting her hands wander your body while your tongues explored each others mouths.

Hardly any words shared at all, the moment too intense, and all too intimate to even think of exchanging witty banter. Hushed moans and whines filling the minimal space between the you and her, mixed in with the pure pleasure and the eager pants from Nayeon.

Bliss drapes your body with each thrust Nayeon made, you gave a small gasp at each stroke she laid into you. Paired with her own sounds of pleasure, you were consumed by her.

“I’m gonna cum…fuck” whispered to her with intense eye contact that has her breath hitching. Her thrusts speed up, a steady crescendo building up higher and higher in both of you until finally hit the point of pure ecstasy.

Your vision blurs as your body trembles, moans escaping your throat in rapid succession. Drenched in ecstasy, you twitch and buck your hips, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm.

Nayeon glistens with a thin sheen of sweat as she maintains her rhythm. Despite your body clenching around the strap, making it challenging for her to continue, she perseveres undeterred, chasing her own pleasure while overstimulating you.

A stream of passionate words accompanies the matching sounds as you both murmur intensely to each other. Nayeon grasps your hands, pinning them above your head, her hips snapping faster and faster.

Watching her closely through your post orgasm haze, you observe her brows furrowing—a sign she's nearing her peak.

As her rhythm falters, you seize the moment. Using your legs, you swiftly roll her over, positioning yourself on top of her.

Grinding down on the strap, now building another orgasm as it rubs against all the right spots, you can feel her body tensing under you.

“Cum for me, baby. I know how much you wanting this all day.” Sultry tone sensually whispered to her as you begin to slam yourself down on her, letting the attachment do the work.

Her eyes roll back, body tensed, back arched as she releases- a mess created on the sheets. Her whimpers loud, hands grasping at you, trying to tug you closer to her and successfully doing so.

Her nails dig into your hips as she guides you up and down on her, mouths connecting, your hand crawling up to weave into her hair.

“Oh fuck…feels so fucking good” breathed against her lips, her hands snake under your thighs, stopping you from riding her.

Thrusting up into you, holding you up while you drape your body over hers, allowing yourself to untether and get lost in the moment.

“Give me one more, honey. I know you want to.” Followed by a few bites to your neck.

The want in her words were enough to send you over the edge once more. She wraps her arms around you, holding you into place while continuing to trust up into you, creating a plethora of sounds that would put any adult film to shame.

Slowly coming down, you bury your face in her neck and smile into her.

“Ugh that was so worth the wait.” huffed into her skin as she draws little pictures with her nails on your back, writing words like “I love you” and your name and her name with hearts.

“Are you writing poetry on my back?” quizzically asked with a hint of sleepiness as you sit up on her.

“I don’t need to write poetry on what already is poetry, my love.” sitting up to deeply kiss you and hug you, all while the strap is still inside you.

Standing up to go and grab another set of sheets, Nayeon takes a moment to clean the strap in the bathroom, dry it off, and put it back in the drawer.

Returning to the bed, you pull the sheets off, walking through your house to place them in the washer and flick it on before you return to the room.

Nayeon and you make the bed together, changing the pillow cases so they match the new sheets you just placed on them.

“Do you want to take a quick shower with me?” after finally placing the comforter on the bed.

Nayeon walks over to you, putting her arms around your waist and kissing you again.

“Absolutely” leading you to the bathroom so you can wash up together.

Turning to her after she turns the shower on, you smirk at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she scoffs, pulling out some towels from the linen closet for you both to use.

“I just love you…also, I think the bed IS crooked…at least it is now…” giggling at her.

Nayeon just glares at you, you can almost see her eye twitch with rage when she finally exclaims:

“SEE, I TOLD YOU IT WAS CROOKED!”

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Alina Starkov - the most inconsistent main character. A tragedy of not wanting to have an identity.

The main character in Shadow and Bone trilogy, a prime example of "she deserved better". A.k.a. soldier, Sun Summoner, Sun Saint. In reality, a false saint and a false hero, who has less personality, goals, spine and consistency than her three love interests. How did this happen? Short answer - bad writing. Long answer? Here we go.

Her character at the beginning - a blank slate.

Physically small and weak, sickly, fragile, with a sour face and sourer attitude. Grew up in an orphanage funded by a Duke, who they were taught to basically worship while looking down on religion and beliefs in saints. Children in the orphanage were beaten if they misbehaved or didn't do chores, but were given education and fine food, which means they were faring better than peasants and farmers. Alina had not many, but several options in her life. She could learn a trade that would not require physical labour, like sewing. Or, she could marry and hope her husband was gracious enough to buy a donkey instead of making her carry heavy sacks of salt on her back, as we see a random man do to his wife. But Alina had no hobbies, interests, aspirations or ambitions in her life. Except her childhood friend Mal. Mal gets a mandatory draft in the First Army, and of course Alina follows, and settles for being a mediocre cartographer. Mal thrives in the army, showing off muscles and hooking up with women, while Alina dutifully waits for him saints know why. She doesn't have other genuine friends, she doesn't like people, she doesn't like anything. This is not a bad start in a sense that there is much room for growth and improvement.

Refusing to belong

Alina discovers she's a long awaited sun summoner, who can vanquish the Fold and unite Ravka. She doesn't want to be special, but not for the reasons you might think. Instead of fearing the burden of such an important task or genuinely becoming paranoid of being assassinated (she gets over those in five minutes), she just...doesn't want the responsibility of actually being useful for something. She'd rather not have powers at all, and go back to being in a constantly sickly state. She'd rather be tailing Mal like a mouse. Which doesn't make any sense for following reasons:

Alina's insecurities in SaB:

Not being pretty and talented

2. Not being as pretty and talented as Grisha

3. Being an orphan, being unwanted.

Being a Grisha actually solves all those problems for her. She gets prettier and healthier once she stops repressing her powers, has a unique cool power, and a community that cares for her. Plus, the support from important figures in Ravka. In time, she could have a family.

Instead, she refuses to acknowledge she's one of them, doesn't train properly, preferring to cling to her prejudices and make digs at Grisha. She'd rather complain that they're prettier, confident and pampered than acknowledge they are serfs, nothing but glorified servants with no basic human rights. Instead of her superstitions and prejudices being shattered when she starts living with them and realizing what Grisha have to go through, becoming rightfully enraged that her people are being treated this way, she still doesn't feel any empathy. In fact, she still doesn't see the General as a HUMAN BEING WHO MIGHT HAVE FEELINGS, even though he makes time in his busy schedule of running an army to make sure she's comfortable, jokes along with her, listens to her fears and reassures her, etc. Why would he go through the trouble if he was heartless? He's the General of the Second Army, by the King's law, she's his soldier. She is obligated to obey him regardless.

The narrative supports her delusions.

I get missing her friend, I get struggling to adjust, but it's more than that. Alina is getting dragged along from a plot point to a plot point kicking and screaming, as if she has anything better to do. She doesn't have a life, why is she so against of getting one? Once she finally somewhat adjusts to her life in the Little Palace, it turns out Darkling has had malicious intents towards her powers all along! Aha, you were right to be prejudiced, Alina! Now abandon your people, your country, and run!

“He … he said that Darklings are born without souls. That only something truly evil could have created the Shadow Fold.”

Imagine telling a person who saved your life that he was a soulless abomination, even though you do not know him, and he is still kind to you and reveals as much about him as he can. There is no grooming and manipulation here, it's just called not being a bitch. Darkling tells Alina he's over 120 years old, Alina is an adult, and the damned kiss was consensual. Of course he didn't tell her everything. Even regular people don't reveal their life-long ambitions and deepest childhood trauma to their crush after several conversations. It took Alina months to stop being in denial about being a Grisha, still didn't like being one, you're telling me if Darkling set her down and explained the complex political situation and his plan to overthrow the corrupt monarchy and bring an end to the war, Alina wouldn't jump out of the window?

Alina running away, not confronting the problem, and straight up deciding Darkling was evil incarnate with no evidence snowballed into Darkling deciding she couldn't be trusted and taking more drastic measures. Liberation of his people was on the line and one pesky girl screwed up a carefully planned coup because she couldn't handle her feelings.

False badassery

Throughout the whole three books, every time Alina makes a decision, it's immediately followed by self-doubt, shame and scorn. But no actual objective criticism. We often see variations of "It was foolish, but I didn't care", "I knew it was reckless but I couldn't bring myself to care", but never her actually analyzing why, or deciding not to do something like that again. Her small victories are immediately followed by thoughts on how would others feel about it, even though the person in question isn't even there and couldn't give less of a shit: "Never is it to be said that Ana Kuya didn't teach us manners", "A cheap trick, but a good one. Nikolai would be proud". Ana Kuya was an abusive mother figure, Nikolai was using Alina's status to get the throne. Sure, it's good that Alina is capable of learning useful things from every kinds of people, but she doesn't think "That was smart of me. I learnt that. I'm proud of myself for an accomplishment". She thinks "Is it good? Would they like it? They like things like that, right?". She attaches herself to people that fit her view of "deserving" and helps them, even though it might not be for the best. Extreme lack of self-worth, combined with entitlement.

When Alina hears a rumour Darkling ordered his heartrenders to sew a traitor's mouth shut, she's horrified. Even though that's hardly the worst punishment for a traitor in an army. But when some pilgrims insult Genya, she orders to have their tongues cut out after they're given only one warning. When Alina commits violence at slightest provocation, it's baddass. But when Darkling commits a controlled necessary military act to stop enemies from overrunning the country, it's madness and is falsely labeled genocide. Look up the definition, genocide is what was happening to Grisha.

The Darkling never kidnapped children and put them in the war zone. He only lied to Alina that he did, a clever strategy with no bloodshed. Meanwhile, Alina let her cult fight for her, whose members were brainwashed children, some only twelve years old.

When Alina faces a dilemma or a tense military situation, her go-to strategy is suicide. That is not martyrdom, nor it is badass.

Darkling became a bad person out of good intentions and desperation, Alina is just a bad selfish person.

Desperate people are the ones capable of the worst acts. Darkling didn't go nearly as crazy as he could, and frankly had a right to on behalf of his people.

"Aleksander had marched south with the king’s soldiers, and when they’d faced the Shu in the field, he’d unleashed darkness upon their opponents, blinding them where they stood. Ravka’s forces had won the day. But when Yevgeni had offered Aleksander his reward, he had refused the king’s gold. “There are others like me, Grisha, living in hiding. Give me leave to offer them sanctuary here and I will build you an army the likes of which the world has never seen.”

It doesn't matter how much genocide, prejudice, abuse and dehumanization the Grisha suffered through for centuries all around the world, Alina never bothers to look at the big picture. Her help is only for those who she deems worthy of it.

She attaches herself to people who fit her narrow-minded view of "worthy". She immediately believes Baghra's rather flimsy expose of Darkling, even though the old woman has been nothing but unhelpful to her, only insulting her and beating her. But Alina associates her with her only mother figure, Ana Kuya, another old hag she had a toxic relationship with. And even though Baghra is an immensely powerful Grisha who refuses to help or even lift a finger, or just spit out vital information, Alina coddles her and provides protection. Instead of telling her to fess up the useful information and save her unhelpful comments, Alina looks up to her as a mentor.

When Genya tells her story, Alina feels bad for her, but not bad enough to see things her perspective. She only becomes protective of Genya once she gets mutilated, out of pity. If it was genuine compassion, she would've forgiven and understood her from the start.

Every Grisha has been hunted and shamed for merely existing, almost every Grisha has lost a loved one to war. But Alina pointedly ignores it, because she doesn't personally know and care for those people. Therefore, she doesn't feel empathetic. Because if she feels empathetic, she might start feeling guilty about how she runs away from her responsibilities at every given opportunity. Just look at this passage:

“You know what he plans to do, Ivan.” “He plans to bring us peace.” “At what price?” I asked desperately. “You know this is madness.” “Did you know I had two brothers?” Ivan asked abruptly. The familiar smirk was gone from his handsome face. “Of course not. They weren’t born Grisha. They were soldiers, and they both died fighting the King’s wars. So did my father. So did my uncle.” “I’m sorry.” “Yes, everyone is sorry. The King is sorry. The Queen is sorry. I’m sorry. But only the Darkling will do something about it.”

The Darkling never wanted power for selfish reasons. He didn't want to take over other countries or lift Grisha above regular people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. Centuries of diplomacy and servitude only gave him enough power to make a school for Grisha children and save adults from slavery and getting slaughtered by serving nobles. He wanted to use the Fold as a border, to stop enemies from invading whenever they pleased, so he would have the time to save Ravka from collapsing. What has Alina done? Started a civil war, destroyed the Second army and helped put a morally dubious man with no claim on the throne to continue an outdated absolute monarchy tradition.

Alina Starkov was meant to be the sun, but turned out to be a trick of the light.

Every time it felt like Alina was emerging from her cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, embracing her true self, she went back to the toxic situationship and the toxic mindset. The narrative also always struck her down. Every book begins and ends with her being sickly, fragile, missing an essential part of herself. It would be good if it was written differently and showed themes of being disabled or having a chronic illness accurately, but it's not. It started out well. Alina was removed from an abusive environment, found a purpose in life, started loving her newfound powers, outgrew the stupid crush who she was way too dependent on, but it all went downhill from there. And then some. This constant vicious cycle does not fit the theme of growth and improvement, and neither does the ending, where Alina loses her powers and goes back to the orphanage. Once again, she's frail and strange, servants (who she now employs) don't respect her, sneer and make fun of her, while her now husband Mal turns a blind eye. Everything is back to the way it was: Mal thrives, Alina is...there. The ending is supposed to be bittersweet, a couple who survived a war building a new life together, but I don't see the sweet part.

Trick of the light - definition: something appearing different from what actually is as a result of the quality of light.

Darkling wanted her to be a strong Grisha, his equal and balance. Grisha wanted her to be a capable leader, Bataar twins wanted a living saint they could worship, Nikolai wanted a wife interested in Ravka and politics. Alina tried to be all of that, but never really wanted to be any of those, so she half-assed it. Mal wanted the version of Alina who was small and insignificant, because anything more made him insecure, and he got his wish.

Illusion, mirage, spectre.

No matter how much the author tries to tell us that Alina's every problem is Darkling's fault, her thought process and actions paint a different picture. Alina was never mentally healthy and she never addressed or resolved her problems. Growing up in a controlled and abusive environment affected her more than anyone, including herself, wants to admit. I am not a licensed psychiatrist, so I will refrain from officially diagnosing Alina, even though she's a fictional character. I am NOT saying I know for certain that Alina has these, if any, mental problems, but she does have some alarming symptoms. It seems like depersonalization. While her symptoms don't fit into one particular mental disorder, I am reminded of psychiatric infantilism, but it is not a mental illness with symptoms. Psychiatric infantilism doesn't necessarily mean the person acts outwardly childishly. To explain very roughly and simply, it means the psych is not as developed as it should be (even if the person is very smart and clever). It shows in avoiding responsibility or not feeling it at all, problems with social connections, not seeing the big picture and taking it seriously, etc. When Harshaw tells the story of his brother getting brutally murdered by people who hate Grisha, even brash Zoya is appalled and expresses her condolences. While all Alina thinks about is that Harshaw might base his hope of having a better life on her now.

Alina also might have Dependent Personality Disorder, but it's hard to say, since we are never shown her being on her own long enough to see whether or not she can take actually care of herself. But her relationship with Mal, Darkling and Baghra (after she no longer objectively needs them) is weird, to say the least.

She never gains the sense of self or an identity, she refuses to become something, then delivers an inner monologue of accepting her fate and five minutes later goes back on her words. Her willingness to sacrifice her life is never out of thinking of the greater good and future, justice, or patriotism. She just doesn't want to live, especially without Mal, who has been doing nothing but shitting on her. Her titles are slapped on her, and she peels them off. Her personality never really changes. Everything she went through feels like a really bad exchange program she was in for a year, and from which she has learnt nothing.

P.S. I don't hate Alina's character, I just mourn her lost potential.

If you have made it to the end, I salute you, congratulations and thank you. 😊 🙏 ❤️

[not-poignant]

so earlier this year a psychologist i'd never met before gave me an autism assessment, diagnosed me with level 2 autism (talking at length about how the levels are mostly just useful for accessing government support) and then strongly advised me to access a national disability insurance scheme (known as NDIS) in australia.

she sent me a 20 page document, detailing all the ways i needed support, and i kind of sat back and cried a little, because something she said really stuck with me, which was basically: 'pia, you would always have been diagnosed with ASD at any age, you were never 'atypical' in presentation, people knew before you were verbal and then went out of their way to make sure you never had the chance to get diagnosed, in case it reflected poorly on them, due to their own stigma.'

it's true. my dad was diagnosed with autism and hid it from me. from all of us. he was the most strongly opposed to any behaviour in me that was not neurotypical, or his version of it, which frankly was still pretty fucking autistic. i lived with his abuse until he left us.

but i look back and think, i should've had an education assistant in school and at university. i should've had people around me helping me all along, if i wanted as much access to equality as most neurotypical people have. and now in early october, i'll be meeting with a support service and we'll start talking about the support staff i'll likely need for the rest of my life.

a lifetime of chronic illness and constant burnout (both from illness and from autistic burnout) was recontextualised. a lot of things about the way i live my life made sense.

but it's scary to have these sorts of meetings when you've spent your entire life being threatened with severe consequences if you behave certain ways, or ask for help.

i write the stories i write for rather obvious reasons, basically, and life has been unafraid of making 2024 a rather challenging year.

not just for me, i know, but for many of us.

i'm wishing you all some comfort and kindness, and hoping i can find a bit more myself, in the next few months.

shit's been hard lol

[skrrts]

glares & snuggles (drabble)

✧ gn!reader x kim hongjoong ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, dating, fluff ✧ word count: 563

Hongjoong isn't good at taking care of himself, forgetting to wear a coat and being home late but he's lucky because he has you who looks out for him and scolds him if needed.

a/n: many hongjoong feels this week, so have something soft. let me know if you like those tiny drabbles, I'm having fun writing them right now.

Hongjoong shivered, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt which was too thin, and not even the fluffy vest really could help to keep him warm outdoors. How was it that early Autumn suddenly felt so cold? He carefully took off his shoes after closing the door quietly but you knew him well enough. Instead of already being comfortably in bed, you waited for him, a glaring expression but with a hot cup of tea in your hands.

He flashed you an apologetic smile, looking almost shy. "Sorry, I forgot about the time again," he mumbled as you came closer, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. "As always, what do I do with you? Maybe I really should start and pick you up so you do not make any more extra hours, passion project or not."

He couldn't deny he always had been the type to need somebody gently directing him, he wasn't good at taking care of himself. What would he do without you? Then, he still wanted to try harder for you, to make you happy and not worried.

A pleasant shiver rushed through him when his fingers curled around the hot cup of tea you handed to him.

"I will try better," he promised and you just sighed but smiled. "Counting on it." He already was feeling warmer, maybe because you always made him feel so happy and loved, all those little gestures that meant more than any large proof of love. His cheek heated up when your arms curled around his waist and you snuggled closer, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"I missed you," you whispered and he turned around, just enough to kiss your hair. "I missed you too." Of course, he always did, hence the guilt for still letting you wait. You carefully pushed him a little: "Well then, off to bed we go! You need to wear a coat tomorrow, alright? For now, I shall warm you up."

Hongjoong looked innocent but smiled as he carefully kicked off his shoes and allowed for you to walk like two penguins to your bedroom. He took a few more sips before placing the cup on the bedside table and took off his jeans and the vest, crawling under one of the too many blankets on top of your bed together with you.

Hongjoong curled his arms around you and you snuggled against him. The smell of your hair was comforting, you always changed your shampoo with the season and you were always warm and comforting.

Yes, this was all he needed and he should spend more time with you, like this, than work. He was grateful that you were strict yet so patient and supportive.

His fingers played with your hair before you looked up. The two of you didn't need words to communicate all the time, his gaze was always adoring when he looked at you and you looked back at him lovingly.

He was about to say something but you just pressed your index finger against his lips and instead, leaned up to kiss him.

Hongjoong smiled into the kiss, closing his eyes as the two of you fell back into the soft pillows, bodies entangled.

He never would want his days to end any other way.

It was soft and lazy and soon, you just cuddled like that, no rush in the world.

[silhouetteonpaper]

Broken Trust, Breached Minds

Summary: When confronted with a new job opportunity, you’re forced to choose between careers. As an enhanced human, a certain someone has already picked out your future, making you worried what she might think—or better yet, what she might do. Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 1,882 Warnings: Use of powers, angst, trust issues

You stare at the bright computer screen, the email before you making your heart drop. We’d like to offer you a position with us. The job you passively applied to a few weeks ago actually got back to you, and not just to turn you down.

You didn’t think you’d actually get the job, it was solely a ‘doesn’t hurt to try’ attempt at applying. But here you are, reading the email containing the key to your dream career as a writer for the biggest entertainment company. It’s something you’ve dreamed of since you were little, before you made commitments to your current job.

Although less of a job and more of a lifestyle, you currently spend your days protecting earth as an Avenger. It’s fulfilling, yet something inside you yearns for a different career. You enjoy the time spent with the team, who’s more like family than anything else, but you know you’re destined for something different, something you’ve wanted for a long time now.

Terrified of what the team might think, you haven’t mentioned your application to anyone—let alone the job offer. The team is fairly aware of your passion for writing, but most of them assume it’s more of a hobby as most of your time is devoted to training. Everyone assumes just because you’re an enhanced superhuman, you only have one option in life.

The idea of being a professional writer fills you with bliss, spending hours exercising your mind as the endless flow of words finally have an outlet. Not having to worry about the city being in danger yet again, or the fear of not being prepared for your next mission. Getting to do something you truly love, and can never get tired of.

On the contrary, the idea of telling the team you’d prefer to write over saving the world makes you feel nauseous. Will they be supportive? Usually any person would pick being a superhero over anything else, but you’re different. Even though your powers are a great asset to the team and their Avenging, you feel you could be even more useful as a writer in the world of entertainment.

Plus, work should be something you love, right? You decide to entertain the idea of no longer being an Avenger, weighing if it’d be a good idea to test the waters and talk with someone about it. Eventually, you commit and attempt to build up your confidence as you head out to see what your closest friend might think.

When you leave your room, Wanda is sitting alone in the living room. She’s like an older sister to you, taking you under her wing when you first joined the team. Because both of you are enhanced, she played a key role in your training. Hours of time together brought you two closer, and now you already feel like you can tell her everything. That leaves a good chance she’d be supportive of you retiring as an Avenger. Still, you want to tread lightly—just in case.

“Hey, Wanda,” you say softly while approaching the strawberry blonde on the couch. She smiles warmly at you, shifting slightly to face you as you sit beside her. “Could I get your opinion on something?”

She nods. “Of course, what’s up?” Her eyebrows raise, signaling she’s really listening. You take a deep breath, thinking of how to phrase your words.

“I’m not one hundred percent on this, it’s just an idea… but what if I stopped going on missions?” You dance around the real subject, trying to gain an idea on where Wanda would stand with this. She sports a confused expression.

“And just train with us? If you’re going to train, why not go on missions too?” She asks curiously. 

You press your lips together, knowing the only way to be clear is to state your idea fully. “No, I mean… stopping all of it. No longer being a part of Avengers.” You cautiously watch as Wanda’s expression falls. Half of the story will have to suffice for now, because her unsure look makes you even more hesitant to speak.

“You’re enhanced, we need you on the team,” Wanda voices, your stomach flipping. Maybe you were wrong, maybe she wouldn’t support the idea.

“But what if I’m not really meant to be a superhero? I can’t control the fact I have these powers, but I can control what I do with my life.” You try to reason. Wanda shakes her head, looking to the floor as she tries to organize her thoughts.

“You do so much good every time we step out onto the battlefield, we can’t lose that. I don’t think anyone on the team would be okay with letting you go.” She expresses, putting a comforting hand on your knee.

“We can handle them,” You remark, knowing how persuasive the two of you could be. But that would only work if Wanda would agree to support this endeavor, and so far things weren’t looking too good. “Why is it that big of a deal if I’m not an Avenger? The rest of you are more than capable of holding your own.”

Wanda’s gaze finally meets yours again, her hand withdrawing. “Because enhanced super-humans usually don’t become writers. I don’t know why you’d quit such a good thing over that.” She discloses. You inhale sharply, not only taken aback by her sudden harsh tone, but at the mention of your new job offer.

She knows. How could she possibly know? Your mind reels, heart racing as Wanda’s words take you by surprise. She looks to the ground, the impact of her words finally resonating. That’s when it suddenly hits you; she read your mind.

“Wanda, I didn’t mention anything about being a writer.” You state, looking at her with a disappointed expression. It was something Wanda always held herself to, never using her powers on any of her friends. Especially the ability to read minds, it was a huge boundary she always kept.

You could see Wanda’s expression fall, but it was different this time. Like she knew she messed up. The sour taste of distrust rose in your throat as you watched Wanda break eye contact.

“You read my mind, didn’t you?” You assert, shaking your head in disbelief. Accessing your thoughts is a breach of any kind of privacy you still had these days, leaving you appalled at her actions. You thought she was one of your closest friends, but maybe you were wrong about that too.

“No, I-“ Wanda started, pausing as she tried to explain herself. But there was no use, what she did betrayed your trust and there was no going back. Any friend would want the full story, sure, but a true friend wouldn’t misuse their powers just for some extra understanding.

In a huff of frustration, you stand from the couch, not letting the woman even try to untangle her words. The anger inside of you leaves an urgent feeling, the decision you originally came here to make becoming even clearer. If not even your closest friend can support you, there’s no point in staying here a second longer.

You’ve been sitting in your bedroom, staring at that same email for the past hour. The drafted response accepting the position is typed out, ready to send with one click of a button. But your finger can’t seem to make that one simple motion.

The burning feeling in your chest won’t relent, leaving you weary about what step to take next. You want to take this job, more than anything. So why can’t you just hit send and accept it?

You’re a great asset to the Avengers, but don’t want to be a superhero anymore. Why can’t Wanda accept that? Why is she so against you following your passion? The questions that you can’t possibly answer swirl inside your mind, almost blocking out the sound of a soft knock on your door.

You let out an exasperated sigh, hoping that the strawberry blonde isn’t outside waiting to redeem herself. “Come in,” you call reluctantly. Sure enough, Wanda opens the door with a guilty expression.

You don’t let her get a word in before speaking up, “Look, if you’re here to try and justify things, I’m not in the mood for excuses.” Wanda takes a deep breath while clenching and unclenching her fists. It’s easy to tell she’s thinking hard about what to do next.

“Just give me five minutes.” Wanda pleads. You let out yet another sigh of resignation, moving aside on your bed so she can sit. It takes a moment for her eyes to find yours, and it’s easy to tell Wanda really wants to do this right.

“I only did it because I was worried,” She starts. You scoff, shaking your head. How were you supposed to take that as a valid excuse? Can you even trust what she’s saying right now?

“Is that the truth, or do I need to read your mind to find the real reason?” You jab in return. Wanda presses her lips together to relay a silent ‘fair enough’.

“The fact you were even considering leaving the Avengers made me worried, I wasn’t sure what possible reason could cause that. I wanted to be sure something wasn’t truly wrong,” She explains. Now it’s your turn to take a deep breath, the wall of anger you built up being knocked down a few bricks. 

“Why didn’t you just ask? I thought we were close enough for that.” You respond.

“I did too, so the fact you were hiding something made me worried. You never hide anything unless something’s up.” Touché. She’s not wrong; all those months of training side by side really allowed her to get to know you, more so than you thought. It’s not often you hide things from anyone, let alone Wanda. Maybe she had a reason to worry, but not enough to warrant misuse of her powers.

“Fine, yeah—I withheld part of the truth, but only because I was worried how you’d react. I know how you are about our powers.” You reason, thinking back to all those times where Wanda made a huge deal about your abilities. There were moments when you could’ve sworn Wanda saw herself as a villain, and therefore you by extension. She ingrained into you that you’re dangerous.

Wanda breaks eye contact as she rehashes those memories, nodding slowly while they replay in her mind. “I’m terrified to see you get hurt.” Her words are nearly a whisper, yet they leave you stunned to silence.

There’s only one thing able to escape your lips. “I think we chose the wrong career path for that.” The two of you both chuckle, finally meeting each other’s gaze once more. “Just because I'm enhanced doesn’t mean I shouldn’t live the life I want.” You breathe.

Wanda nods, this time more confidently. “I know. You’re going to make a great writer.” A grin spreads across your face, she’s supporting your choice. She wears a matching grin as you lean in to hug her, the two of you melting into a soft embrace. You get to go into your dream job with the support of the one person you care about most, that’s all you could ever hope for.

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Blossoms (The Amazing Devil)

My dress is on fire/And I hurl myself, I heal myself, I drag myself like a rug in the rain/And my saint, she is dancing/As every step I choose to take begins to set the world aflame/And the soldiers march behind me/I can hear them beat their spears/And for the first time in all my life I know/I'm more than what I fear

"I think it has something to do with the power of being able to let go of someone that hurt you and know you have other people supporting you and/or going through the same thing. Those people are the "soldiers". The lyrics I highlighted are representative of the pain of letting go and how it feels like you will hurt forever but at the same time you've never felt freer in your life. It's also just a really pleasing song to sing and I've been singing along to it on loop while writing this submission. If it's your cup of tea, try it sometime!"

Take Me To War (The Crane Wives)

All of the words I've swallowed/All of the sharp things I've kept in my mouth/I am always bleeding out/Take me to war/Honey, I dare you/I'll be the sweetest thing/To ever scare you/Give me a fight I can't resist/Give me something to break with my fists

"You know when like. you're just *angry.* and you want to fight something, want to *hurt* someone. that sick, burning *anger* that sits heavy on your tongue. that's this song. It's made to scream with a gravely, angry tone, throat raw and torn."

[yolli-es]

Please, I'm really sorry

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, sadness, rude treatment, mentions of death

I doubt this is in character, so treat it as a silly sketch. Writing text is harder than headcanons..

MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND THERE MAY BE MEANING ERRORS

You adore Jinx; you love and tolerate her. Your acquaintance was unexpected, and your subsequent friendship was spontaneous. You were choking with tears after losing your mother when she found you. This girl saved you so easily, as if it were so easy. Jinx never told you about the past, but when the voices in her head became too loud, you didn't need an explanation. You saw how bad she becomes and what consequences it can bring. Afterwards, you promise yourself to always be there so that you can prevent the irreparable. This was not always successful.

After Silko died, things got really bad. Jinx tried to continue his work, to be strong and collected. But this is Jinx. Your Jinx. And she never was and never will be like this. Maybe that's why she's been so rude to you, taking it out on you because she's under so much stress. Sooner or later it will all end, and she will be able to look at you again without irritation.

You forgive Jinx for everything: the harsh words, the insults, the hits. Because she always apologizes after. And you don't care that it's not sincere at all. You love her; she is the only thing you have.

The day started out quite normally. You and Jinx were sitting in Silko's office, which is still called that way to this day, on the initiative of Jinx herself. It was all quite nice: she decided to share with you many thoughts about the future, which happened quite rarely. But then Sevika came in. And with her came terrible news. Shimmer production had been disrupted again. The enforcers blew up the plant, dealing with the guards there without any particular problems. And she just walked out after saying that. Just one look from Jinx made it clear how bad she was feeling right now,

"It's not your fault, and..." — you're interrupted by a rude "shut up." Jinx, who had been sitting on the table quite relaxed, now clutched her head, her eyes closed, and her breathing quickened. Just a few moments ago she was vulnerable, and now she's rude to you again. "You don't understand me at all," Jinx said in a breaking voice, hiding her face in her knees. It was painful to hear. We have been through a lot together. But she's worse off, and you step over yourself again: "I love you, Jinx. What do you want me to do?". You tell her this so often, so sincerely and naively. Her reaction to your words is always different; you can never guess, and now she again hits you: "I want you to stop being so useless and just help me." Jinx whispered, still struggling with her emotions. She hadn't let herself get angry, panicked, or sad that easily since Silko died. No tears. She kept herself under control. And is that what she thought all along? It's your fault; you're just doing a shitty job. Obviously, sitting here with her is not what she wanted. It looks so painful for you. The girl you love is suffering so much; why don't you just make it easier? That day you stayed, having endured many insults and a couple of blows.

Usually you stayed by Jinx's side, always supporting her and helping her with many tasks. For example, maintaining her authority in the city, keeping an eye out for possible rats nearby, and always saving your love from nervous breakdowns. But now you're by Sevika's side, at a shimmer production plant. You didn't tell Jinx anything; you didn't even think she would ask and worry. You need to act more decisively, as she wanted it. The task was simple: wait until the enforcers come here and destroy them. You were never a good fighter, just a decent shot. Your skills were enough to protect yourself on the streets of Zaun, but they were nothing against well-trained law enforcement officers. That's why you stayed on the sidelines, watching from above and covering Sevika.

You realized how much you screwed up with this shit when you found yourself in the middle of a shootout. Things didn't go according to plan when Sevika was shot, and now you had to save her. Letting the woman lean on you, you ran upstairs. The sounds of gunshots, explosions, and screams confirmed your fears: this plant is finished. Neither the shimmer nor the people were saved. Adrenaline was pumping through you, and you didn't notice anything except the cherished goal.

You reached a safe place and fell. The rest was like a dream. Sevika sat next to you, trying to close the open wound. She tied it with a rag, shouting something about the presence of shimmer nearby. The wound seems to be on your legs, chest, and head. It was painful and cold. Severe weakness. How the hell did enforcers get you? You couldn't think, let alone remember. This woman was shaking you, trying to make you think, but you had already given up. You had lost, and you had screwed up so badly, Jinx would never forgive you. Sevika shouted something, and you didn't really listen; you just couldn't. And then your gaze focused on a blue spot... Jinx? You wanted to look at her one last time. She may be disappointed in you, angry, or simply empty towards you, but all this will not matter as long as she is here. Your eyes closed for just a moment.

" ...orr..."—You can't see, only distantly hear. Such a nice sound; you've heard it before. The noise makes you open your eyes again. A flash of light disorientated you. Straining your eyes, you managed to make out a silhouette in front of you. It was Jinx, and... she was crying. She was in complete disarray, desperately holding your face. She bit her lips every time she wanted to swallow the lump in her throat and continue talking. She was talking to you. What was she saying? Your damn body is so weak. "Hold on, just breathe. Please, I'm really sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you...",-She repeated it over and over while you felt the shimmer being injected into your body. You wanted to calm her down, to say "I love you" back. And all you did was watch silently. Your eyelids were so heavy, and your body suddenly seemed too weightless. You were being yelled at, shaken, and pricked with a shimmer stabbed over and over. And you were too weak to respond to it, closing your eyes one last time.

Jinx sincerely apologizes this time. It's a pity that your mind was too weak to realize this.

it was short, unclear and stupid 🥴 Wrote this in a hurry while I'm taking a break from studying and writing other things.

[acourtofthought]

I don't know. I just think it's a little odd that people still use the "Rhys's parents" as a real reason to support why the Elucien bond won't be a good fit.

The sole similarity being how both bonds immediately snapped would be like us saying Sarah will probably kill off Az's character as she seems to be gearing up for with Beron simply because they've both tortured people for information. Or that she'll put Az on the Tamlin path because he didn't encourage Elain to train her powers, saying she shouldn't be exposed to the darkness of the Trove the same way Tamlin wanted Feyre to avoid helping him on patrol.

Rhys's dad was cold and vicious.

Lucien is not.

Rhys's dad stole his mother away the exact moment their bond snapped.

Lucien has given Elain freedom.

Rhys's dad refused to help the Illyrian women.

Lucien's arc constantly mentions the female friends he has, we have evidence that he was threatened with violence for his attempts to help Feyre.

We're given zero similarities in personality for Rhys's father and his mother.

Sarah spoke in interviews about Elain and Lucien's similarities, made them obvious in the books.

Sarah said Lucien has always been one of her favorite characters yet some really think she's setting him up to end up like Rhys's dad?

It seems some are too fixated on their personal feelings about the Elucien bond because of their ship preferences and forget that Sarah called Lucien "her love". Why would an author ever write someone she's said that about to end up the bad guy who would be a bad husband / mate?

[lala-blahblah]

I absolutely cannot sit down and write a nice version of this bc my brain says no, but i would like to let you all know I'm thinking of a fanfic where older Edgeworth is moving back to the US (or japan, whichever universe you subscribe to) and runs into Nick in the store while buying mass produced art to hang on the walls of his new house.

And Nick is like "dear god do you want your house to look like a dentist's office. Please do better" (in a friendly way, they are too old for rivalry at this point) and so Nick invites Edgeworth to come over and take any of his old artwork from college, since it is just sitting in a portfolio in a closet somewhere. And Edgeworth agrees to come over and look through Nick's old stuff together. There are themes of 1) growing older and like reflecting on the past and 2) Nick's character trait of finding meaning in challenges vs Edgeworth's tendency to stick with what he does well. In my head I imagine that Nick was good at art and it came somewhat easily to him and that bored him, and he was drawn to law in part because it was hard and it excited him and made him want to try harder. And i think tying that in with fatherhood, like it being unexpected and hard but something he thrives at because he feels good when there's a challenge. Potentially also touching on how like, when he lost his badge he felt very listless and depressed because he wasn't being challenged anymore, there wasn't anything to drive him and motivate him. And I think Edgeworth would be impressed by seeing Nick's old pieces (I assume he hasn't seen much of his art before) and wondering why he didn't choose to pursue art further. He also thinks about how art had always put him off personally because he couldn't get it "right" right away, and on the other hand how the structure and logic of law came easily to him, which led him to become a lawyer. I think he measures his self worth by his success in his field because he never had the support to believe he had intrinsic value as a person and maybe wasn't so good at making emotional connections with people. So that big contrast between them is so interesting... I think Edgeworth would be jealous of Nick's bravery in pursuing something he was bad at without giving up and Nick would be jealous of Edgeworth's success in law, but in a subdued way as they've grown older.

A far as actual scenes in the fic, I think I would use Nick's art as a conduit for my own agenda to have them talk about topics that are of interest to me... I would like Edgeworth to feel out of his depth for once and for nick to be the confident one as he talks about something he is well versed in, and for edgeworth to have to face that discomfort and also be a little impressed intellectually with Nick. I think I would do that by having them look through some abstract art Nick did (my intro painting classes were all abstract so we could focus on color mixing and getting comfortable with the medium). Edgeworth compliments Nick on a painting with a bunch of colored squares in gradient clusters and then gets embarrassed when Nick tells him those were just color mixing swatches. Alternatively, in my mind they are both asexual and I think even though this feels like a hallmark cliche I would have Edgeworth flounder and be very embarrassed over Nick's old figure drawing piece. I feel like Nick would be like "no you don't understand it's all very professional and normal when we draw them, like it's just about learning the shape language" and Edgeworth would be like "this is very improper and I don't know how to react can we please not look at naked people!". I don't think i would do both, but something to upset the power dynamic for a moment would be interesting! Nick is always the awkward one I want to see him shine for just a moment enough for edgeworth to go "wait what... i've known him for so long but perhaps i don't really know him at all..."

I would want Edgeworth to end up taking a series of 3 canvases Nick did in an oil painting class that were still lifes of objects the teacher had set up around the classroom. I headcanon that Nick actually far preferred drawing people to objects and rebelled against the assignment by hiding his reflection in one of the objects in each drawing- the top of his head is hidden in an ornament on a christmas tree, his eye is reflected in the shine of a china vase, etc. So it's a little secret, and Edgeworth kind of likes that... it is sweet in a way to see a much younger Phoenix captured in time like that. Something Edgeworth will be reminded of when he sees the paintings but nobody else will catch onto

I would want to layer this with a fatherhood storyline... I think i would frame it as nick inviting edgeworth over to dinner with him and Trucy and Edgeworth stepping into this domestic family life as a visitor and witnessing how its transformed Nick, like seeing him from a different lens. I think after they pick out paintings and have dinner they sit around talking. Trucy had been sitting with them, earlier she showed off some magic tricks and gave Edgeworth a picture of hers from the fridge to add to his new art collection (it's a rainbow dolphin and a sea turtle wearing top hats. Nick says she's in her Lisa Frank era). But she's been quiet for awhile and Nick realizes she's fallen asleep and it's like 11. He's like, crap, i screwed up i should've paid attention and gotten her put to bed, I'm a bad father and I have an audience for this failure. And on top of that, I already failed at being a lawyer, no matter what I try I always disappoint everyone. It's an unexpected moment of vulnerability there... like he's seemed so put together and grown up to Edgeworth this whole time like a whole different person, but he's not a different person he just has different sides to him. And this moment is one where edgeworth can be like hey, no, you're a great dad, and I'm impressed by you and everything you achieved. And I think that could lead into vulnerability from Edgeworth about his relationship with his dad and how he misses him/how he feels like he hasn't really been loved by anyone since his dad died, and how Trucy is lucky to have someone like Nick in her life.

Nick excuses himself to carry Trucy to bed and Miles starts cleaning up the kitchen. I would give a moments pause here to talk about the strange intimacy of going through someone else's kitchen cabinets and drawers, you feel like a stranger there trying to put yourself into someone else's shoes to understand how they live in this space. Maybe he guesses the right drawer for the silverware first try and he feels a little spark of connection. like "we are different in many ways but we are alike enough that we look in the same place for our spoons". Details on the kitchen too about the kid safe plastic bowls and knives that indicate a child is part of the household, that the household has been built around the child, in fact. Edgeworth lives alone and I imagine things are kind of fancy for him (he's a man who wears a cravat so he probably has fine china right). It's completely different from this shabby mismatched cutlery that Nick has, but this kitchen has personality. Maybe he wouldn't mind having a kitchen like this so much. This is a hint at him being lonely, being included in this family unit just for a day has given him this curious sense of longing, for what he isn't sure... does he want kids? Does he want Nick? Does he just want to be part of a family? These are confusing questions and he would much rather not feel anything at all, but unfortunately it is late and he did have a glass of wine with dinner so emotions are Happening.

He hears Nick sigh tiredly as he comes into the kitchen, and Edgeworth starts to ask him where his tupperware is when suddenly Nick is wrapping his arms around him and Edgeworth is Very Tense because he's never good at knowing how to act in situations like this and he and Nick have never been on a hugging level before and he's not sure what this is even for. Then Nick is like "I keep thinking about what you said earlier, about feeling alone ever since your dad passed away. I didn't know, that's such a long time to feel alone. I don't want you to think you're on your own". Edgeworth relaxes a little bit because now he knows what the hug is for and what he's supposed to feel from it. Its very kind of Nick to worry but its unnecessary and he says so. He has colleagues he's friendly with and people from law school he keeps in touch with, he's alright. And Nick says he knows but he also knows it's difficult living the way they do, and what he means is single and in your thirties. Because everyone else is getting married or living with a long term partner or at the very least dating and their lives are focused on that relationship as the center of their being. And when you don't have that, not only is it harder to relate to the people around you but it is harder to feel like you matter in people's lives, because they all prioritize their partner before their friends. And maybe their situations aren't exactly the same (Nick has a daughter while Edgeworth lives alone) and maybe their choices were made for different reasons (Nick used to date and didn't mind it but didn't see a need to prioritize it. Edgeworth found himself unable to distinguish with certainty whether or not he was actually romantically interested in people, and rather than make the wrong choice he decided he would rule out error by choosing no one at all). But regardless, they both know first hand the isolation that comes with trying to carve a path for themselves that does not include a life partner in a world where everyone else comes in pairs. And Nick is reaching out across that emptiness saying hey, we might both be building different lives, but there's room for you to be a part of mine if you want.

Outloud, Nick says "Really, Miles. You aren't alone in this." and Edgeworth says "Well, Phoenix, neither are you". And he stands there and lets his friend hug him, and it doesn't feel like butterflies but it does feel solid and warm and good. And he doesn't even worry about whether he's supposed to let go by now or not, because it's nice, not being alone.

They stand there in comfortable silence for a long moment before Nick speaks again. "hey, remember when you used to hate me? And look at us now." Edgeworth turns his head sharply. "I never HATED you, Wright. I simply thought you were foolish and a waste of my time." He realizes a little too late that this is probably a rude thing to say to the person that just gave you a pep talk, but Nick just laughs, his head still resting on Edgeworth's shoulder. Looking at him from this angle, face almost fully hidden, Nick could be any age at all. It's easy to imagine for a moment that he's the same nervous version of himself that stood across from him in the courtroom for the first time all those years ago. The only thing breaking the illusion is the subtle streaks of silver that cross his temples. Not entirely sure why he does it, Edgeworth kisses the top of Nick's head. He feels odd about it the moment he does so, realizing it comes across not as a platonic or romantic action but as a gesture suited for a dog or pet of some kind. Nick looks up, looking confused but not displeased. "What was that for?" "It was a thank you I suppose". Miles steps away now, still uncomfortable with perceived failures even if those failures are just in social interactions, and begins to gather his things while Nick gets down a tupperware from a cabinet. "Thank you, for the dinner and for the paintings." Edgeworth continues. "I'd like to repay the favor once I get settled into the new house. Trucy's invited too, of course". As he says it, he realizes he genuinely is looking forward to seeing them again. Nick walks him to the apartment door and they say their goodbyes while Edgeworth tucks the paintings (and Trucy's dolphin drawing) under his arm.

He gets halfway down the hallway when he hears Nick calling after him. "Hey! Miles! Take an art class with me sometime" Newfound friendship or not, Edgeworth just looks at him in disdain. "what, so you can show off your superior art skills? No thank you, Wright" "No, for fun. You can make things of your own to hang on your walls. We can do something I've never done before so we're evenly matched. Like printmaking? Origami? Um, pottery?" Edgeworth bristles at the suggestions but takes a moment to acknowledge why he's feeling that way; again, it's that fear of failure. But he's enjoyed himself today and deep down he thinks it could be fun to try something new, not with the goal of being perfect at it but with the goal of spending time together. Nick surprised him today. Maybe he can surprise himself. "... I would consider pottery" Edgeworth admits. And Nick looks really happy about it. "Great. I'll book us a session then. It'll be fun, you'll see. Edgeworth shakes his head, but there's no malice behind it. "Have a good night, Phoenix" "You too. Get home safe Miles".

Edgeworth gets home a little before midnight and props the three canvases against the moving boxes still stacked up in the foyer. Tomorrow, he'll figure out where he wants to hang them. Right now though, he walks over to the bare fridge and carefully pins up Tracy's dolphin drawing. There's a lot more work to do, but it's already starting to feel like home.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Last post you talked about your ideal version of canon, I was wondering could you share it with us? If not, that's ok

Oh man, I could go on about my dream version of canon for ages! I've talked about various aspects of it on here with stuff like my "sugar" posts on Nino and Alya, but the broad strokes are:

Serialized story where it's basically one large narrative told in chunks

A true teams setup where Adrien, Marinette, Alya, and Nino feel like this amazing, tight friend group who grows into a found family as they get older, giving platonic and romantic love more equal billing

No guardian order, just have it be a single-person role that gets passed on from person to person

Kagami and Luka in supporting roles that have nothing to do with being love interests

Sympathetic Gabriel who feels like a truly tragic figure, but who does NOT get redeemed

Emilie gets an actual character

No sentinonsense

Revised miracle box that is way smaller and that has strong lore

The Agreste's aquiring the miraculous is far more morally complex, makes sense, and was not done for explicitly selfish reasons

Reverse the love square right from the start and never have the crushes flip

I've talked about all of these things on here, but the one thing that I've only briefly touched on is my love of a reverse square setup. I am passionate about that one, so let's take a moment to talk about why since it's probably going to be the most interesting to read.

I don't hate the canon setup for the crushes, but also I don't think that they're the ideal crushes. When it comes to romance stories, you want to design your love interests around each other. You want them to feel special and like they bring something unique to the table. Canon doesn't really give us that. There's nothing all that special about Adrien that makes him feel like the person that Marinette would be drawn to above all others. Same goes for Chat Noir and Ladybug, but we'll get to them in a second.

What is Marinette's biggest struggle? Her role as Ladybug.

Who is her main support in that role for most of the show? Chat Noir.

Who is her main support on the civilian side even before the reveal? Alya.

So why is Marinette's crush on Adrien and not Chat Noir? I don't know. It's the lesser setup by far and that goes beyond just the logic elements of who it makes the most sense for her to fall in love with. A lot of Marinette's worst behavior actually feels justified in a reverse crush setup, allowing you to write her without major changes to her character.

For example, Marinette keeping a chest of gifts for Adrien is kind of pathetic. She's friends with Adrien and she gives her friends gifts all the time, why can't she give him gifts, too? Reverse the crushes and suddenly this behavior makes perfect sense. Marinette isn't storing up gifts because of overblown fears of rejection. She's storing up gifts for legitimate fears about how her partner will explain these random gifts, thereby risking his identity, meaning that she has a sold argument for waiting until the time is right (post reveal) to give them to him.

There's also the legitimate fear that confessing her love could ruin their dynamic and put Paris at risk. Keeping her feelings to herself is now an act of self-sacrifice and not just an act of nerves. Basically everything about Marinette's hesitance just makes so much more sense if it's on the hero side.

But what about Adrien? How does this fix him?

I love the idea of our male romantic lead falling for our female lead because she's bold and brave, but it honestly doesn't fit Adrien's character. He is surrounded by powerful, confrontational women. Nathalie, Chloe, Kagami, Amilie, Audrey, and Tomoe are all no-nonsense women who get what they want. This means that Ladybug doesn't bring something unique to his life. She fits the standard mold. Adrien falling in love with her after she talks down Hawkmoth doesn't feel like the right choice for his character because it doesn't feel like something he'd be wildly impressed by.

Meanwhile, Marinette is shown to be a generally wonderful friend. She cares about others and will do what she can to make them feel welcome and accepted. That's a much more unique thing for Adrien to experience. Think about the umbrella scenes and imagine if it was Marinette apologizing. Marinette owning that she treated him poorly and asking his forgiveness. How often do you think Adrien gets moments like that? Doesn't it make more sense for something like that to make his heart flutter?

We see Marinette doing things like making banners to celebrate her friends (Timebreaker) and making sure everyone feels included (Reflekta). Imagine her giving Adrien that kind of treatment because it's just who Marinette is. She shows up to his fencing matches to cheer him on. Brings him his favorite snacks as a treat just because, surrounding this poor boy in honest, genuine love and support. Add in respect, too, and he'd be a goner because those are the things that he's not getting anywhere else! The things that make Marinette unique.

This brings us to our new civilian dynamic. In canon, it's Marinette failing to confess in ever more spectacular ways as Alya tries and fails to help. In a reverse crush setup where everyone is friends without gender barriers, it's things like Adrien coming up with his canon confessions and then watching Alya and Nino react with genuine horror because, dude, you're going to give her a panic attack! No! Bad kitty! Stop that! No confessions until you come up with a plan that we approve of and read at least five books of dating advice because holy shit did homeschooling do you dirty in this area!

Then, while Adrien is working to learn how dating works, he learns that Marinette is in love with Chat Noir and, oh no! He thinks she's into his public persona, totally unaware that she knows the real Chat Noir and loves his dorky self. So he tries to emulate his sexy alter ego while Nino and Alya suffer and Marinette is just generally confused because she doesn't think of Chat Noir like that, so she doesn't even notice what Adrien is doing.

This also adds a nice mitigating factor to Adrien's unwillingness to give up even though it's pretty clear that Marinette isn't interested in his civilian self. If he knows that she loves him, then his persistence is less concerning and more comedic. It's not that he can't take a no, it's that he honestly knows with 100% certainty that the answer is NOT no because she's told him that to his face. He just needs her to realize that the guy she's in love with is right here, ready and willing!

The potential for comedy is just so much more broad and so much less mean spirited because Marinette has none of Adrien's reserved nature, so her friends would totally know about her massive "celebrity crush". Adrien comes over for school projects and just stares longingly at her Chat Noir posters, wishing he could tell her his secret, but knowing that he can't.

In my world, that is so much more fun than canon's setup where Marinette has no reason to hope. I also wouldn't draw the crushes out anywhere near as long as canon did. I like getting couples together in the mid-game. It's a nice early plot to hook you in, but defeating the villain is the end game, so we don't need to draw the romance out that long. Romance isn't that special. It's not all that different from an arc about two characters becoming friends.

That's far from the only major change I'd make to shape canon into my ideal version, but it is the probably the change that I love the most. It's also the change that requires the least context to explain, so there you go!

[greenerteacups]

Hello GT, I absolutely love Lionheart!

I published my first fic and have been dealing with some criticism; it’s not anythjng super hateful, but it’s not anything meant to make me improve either. I’ve been feeling sort of down because of it. My question is: have you ever dealt with hate or criticism before? What is your attitude towards it?

I find your work and answers on here super insightful and inspiring! I hope you have a nice day ❤️

Fuck em. Like, seriously, just fuck em. There's a time and place for writers to take critique and be strict with themselves; it's necessary for any artist to grow. That place is with a chosen group of creatives whose work you admire and whose judgment you trust. A rando on the Internet, while they may in fact be the next Marcel Proust, probably isn't. And I was raised to believe that while it's appropriate and kind to pay compliments to strangers when they're performing — just as you'd smile at a busker on the sidewalk, and or compliment a chalk artist — it's not appropriate to criticize them when what they do isn't to your tastes. They're providing you with their art for free. No one forced you to read it; no one forced you to listen. If you don't like it, it costs $0 to shut the fuck up.

Also — that thing I said about artists taking critique? That assumes that you're doing this out of a desire to improve your writing, which, while noble, is not actually a thing you need to do if you're a hobby writer. I like trying to improve; it makes me feel good. But at the end of the day, I do this for fun. I do this because in my real job, I am ruthless and self-critical and try really fucking hard to do well, and you need parts of your life that Aren't Like that. You need parts of your life where you're not worrying about whether you're Doing It Right. And living without that anxiety of critique is, paradoxically, the only way you'll find the artistic courage to take risks and develop new skills. Everyone is a little bit rough around the edges to begin with. (Not saying you're a beginner — you merely said "publish," and I certainly wrote a lot of things before I started publishing! But every artist is always trying to develop new skills and techniques; in the grand scope of things, we're all beginners.) Giving someone blunt critique when they're in the beginning phases of their journey as an artist is about as helpful as screaming at your six-year-old kid because he can't swim the butterfly.

And the thing is, these people will bluster and say "well, I'm just being honest, I'm just trying to be helpful," but like: mmmmmmno, you're not! You're not. And it's disingenuous to say so. Because if you were actually trying to be helpful, you would introduce yourself, offer your skills as an editor/beta reader, and start building the relationship of trust that grounds any meaningful co-creative partnership. People do not just accept random critique that comes flying at them from the blue nowhere. And issuing it in that form is the best way to make them hostile, defensive, and unreceptive to it. Delivering harsh feedback without a context of care and support is almost sure to fail as a method of actually changing behavior, and either (1) you know that, and are doing it anyway — presumably because you want people to know how Terribly Clever and Better At Writing you are, or (2) you sincerely have never thought about the effect that context and word choice have on how other people receive your meaning.

Which tells me you are the last fucking person on the planet I want writing advice from.

[foundress0fnothing]

and kisses are a better fate than wisdom

Summary: Feyre drags her sisters to Medieval Times to ogle the hot king. Nesta drags Emerie and Gwyn to Medieval Times for support and hater solidarity. And maybe to ogle some hot knights.

Rated E, Chapter 1/6, ~2.9k words

For @nessianweek ♥️

This fic is brought to you by an ER visit and antibiotics! I had intended to have the Nessian section of this complete, but then life kicked my ass, and so all I have to offer you today is a beginning. The Nessian smut chapter will be my next update to the fic, and then I’ll write chapters for all the other pairs (eventually and as the horny mood strikes).

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

“What the fuck, Feyre?” 

Nesta started in horror at the seemingly endless train of middle schoolers who were being led past the ticket window. Three jostled Nesta’s bag as they scuttled past, and she glared after them. Not that it did any good—they just dissolved into shrieking giggles as they careened around the space, narrowly missing the suit of armor standing in the corner of the large atrium. “Please tell me you didn’t have me call out of work for this.”

“Of course she didn’t, Nesta,” Elain said, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Our dear sister would only text us “Need you at the mall, personal emergency, please come ASAP” if it was for something really, really serious.” She looked pointedly at Feyre. “Right, Feyre?”

Feyre at least had the decency to look a little guilty. “He’s just…so hot, guys,” she mumbled, blushing.

“Oh my god.” Rolling her eyes, Nesta turned away from her sister’s embarrassed face to take in the spectacle that was apparently going to consume the next two hours of her life if the sign above the ticket window could be believed:

Brace yourself for approximately two hours of heart-pounding excitement! You’ll see lance-shattering jousting, clashing swordsmanship, and thrilling hand-to-hand combat! Join us for an unforgettable experience!

When Feyre told Nesta and Elain to meet her by the fake castle façade, Nesta had assumed it was only because it was easily recognizable and about as far away from Feyre’s waitressing job at the Cheesecake Factory as it could be while still technically being part of the mall. 

She did not expect that Feyre actually wanted her to spend time—not to mention 60 fucking dollars—in this tacky monstrosity. 

And “tacky” was a generous description of the space around her. Between the suit of armor in the corner, the display cases lining the room stuffed with replicas of weapons and garishly colored flags, and the entire wall devoted to headshots of all the idiots who were involved in the whole farce, Nesta found very little here that made her want to linger any longer than she absolutely had to.

But—it had been so long since her littlest sister had shown interest in anyone since she broke up with that god-awful trust fund manager Tamlin, and that interest, combined with Feyre’s palpable youngest sibling energy, softened Nesta enough to stay. Begrudgingly.

“It could be fun!” Feyre tried, but she was looking at the picture of whoever the “so hot” cast member was who prompted this nonsense in the first place as she said it, so Nesta didn’t trust her judgment anymore. She refused to look at the cast pictures. What use did she have for role-playing nerds or gym bros who used the guise of a medieval joust to hit at each other like brutes? No thanks.

She sighed and pulled out her phone to text her best friends and coworkers Emerie and Gwyn to take their lunch break and come over.  “I’m not about to suffer through this alone.” Their law office was only a few blocks away, and Nesta only felt the tiniest bit guilty about condemning them to a few hours of campy spectacle. What were friends for if not to hate watch something with you as a favor to your little sister?

That made Feyre turn away from the cast picture wall as she gestured indignantly between herself and Elain. “We’re here!” 

“You don’t count anymore, Feyre.”

“Well, what about Elain?”

Nesta scoffed lightly. “She’ll probably end up liking it somehow, and then I’ll have no one to complain with.” Elain stuck her tongue out although she didn’t deny it, and Nesta hummed in satisfaction at being right. She hadn’t missed the way Elain had also been looking at the wall of cast members, lingering for a few moments on the head shot of one of the knights who bore a distinctive red ponytail.

Nesta looked back at her phone and saw messages of confused confirmation from Emerie and Gwyn agreeing to meet her there, and so she went back to the ticket window to buy seats for them. Maybe she’d expense them—company bonding and all that bullshit.

By the time she returned to the corner where her sisters were standing, Gwyn and Emerie had joined them, and Nesta shook her head, forestalling the question that she could see forming on her friends’ lips. “Don’t ask.”

Emerie snorted. “You think I’m not going to have questions after you text us in the middle of the work day demanding that we take off and come to Medieval Times? Be serious Nesta.”

“Maybe she’s finally lost it,” Gwyn shrugged. “The Hybern case cracked her.”

“That case drives me to drink, not to willfully agree to a two hour long lobotomy.”

Feyre glared. “Stop being such a spoilsport. We’re here to ogle hot guys. You should be on board.”

“Hmmm, $60 to watch grown men play dress up and cover anything interesting with armor. Sign me up.”

An announcement overhead began, urging audience members to find their seats before the beginning of the show.

Feyre grinned and flicked her braid over her shoulder. “Well, good thing you already bought a ticket then, Nesta.” And with that, she hooked her arm around Elain’s, turned, and flounced into the darkened hall that led to the arena.

“Walked right into that one, babe.”

“Shut up, Em.”

Emerie flashed a smile and started following Feyre down the hall. “Do you think there’ll only be hot guys? Because that’s really gonna put a damper on the next two hours for me.”

“From a place like this?” Nesta gestured around to the kitschy, rustic decor. “I doubt we’re going to find any brave, gender-role defying performances here. I think the best you can hope for is a hot tavern wench.”

“Desperate times, I suppose.” Emerie sighed dramatically. “Perfect people must endure so much in this life.”

Gwyn giggled from where she was walking behind them. “And what would you know about that, Em?”

Emerie flipped her off without turning around, and Gwyn added, “But who knows? Maybe this’ll be great! Maybe we’ll find true lo—”

“Stop—don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Nesta stopped walking and turned to face Gwyn. You’re only here to be a hater with me.”

“Nesta—”

“No—this is a Valkyrie law office pact. You have to hate this with me. Don’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a guy in a tin can.” She whirled back around to Emerie. “Or a wench in too-tight stays. We’re better than that.”

Her friends nodded silently, and Nesta chose to ignore the knowing looks they gave each other in favor of turning back around and marching toward the opening to the arena. It was a large, airy room with rising wooden stands that ringed a sandy, clear oval in the middle of the space. There were oversize flags and banners hanging from the ceiling designating four different sections that corresponded to the different knights, and a dias, where the king would oversee whatever nonsense was about to happen.

Feyre and Elain had already grabbed their seats along a wooden, almost picnic-style bench in the first row of what was apparently the Red Knight’s section. Wenches were circulating, taking drink orders, and Nesta made sure to order a glass of wine—a large glass of wine—before she sat down. Needs must. Gwyn and Emerie quickly followed suit, and it wasn’t long before the lights in the stands dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd.

There was a distant stamping sound, and then all of a sudden, four knights on horseback burst out of a door at the far end of the arena, galloping around the perimeter of the arena. The audience erupted into cheers at the sight of the knights, and Nesta felt her mouth go dry.

Holy. Shit. 

She felt Gywn lean over to whisper in her ear. “Are we still better than that, Nesta? Because…” She trailed off, but Nesta didn’t need her to finish her sentence.

Because Holy. Fucking. Shit.

All but one of the knights weren’t wearing their helmets yet, and each one was intensely, unfairly gorgeous. 

There was the red and yellow knight whose long red hair streamed out behind him as he circled the arena. He was tall and wickedly handsome, even with a rough scar bisecting the left side of his face. Small charms and beads woven into individual strands caught the overhead lights and made him look like he was glowing with some inner light. 

The next knight was his opposite in every way. Clothed in black with accents of a deep blue, he seemed to swallow the light as he rode a lap around the arena. He was imposing and muscled and almost unfairly beautiful for a man. Especially for a man wearing fake armor, Nesta reminded herself, shaking her head and closing her mouth from how it had gaped open slightly at his appearance.

The green knight rode in after him, his helmet still on, and Nesta idly wondered why he alone would still be wearing his helmet. Was he self-conscious? Or just not a cocksure, handsome asshole like the first two knights? Whatever the reason, he was clearly an excellent horseman. His seat was agile and easy, and the two of them together moved like they were caught in some dance with music only they could hear. 

But Nesta didn’t have time to linger on why this knight was still wearing his helmet, or how well he rode a horse, because any thoughts she had were quickly replaced by the sight of the red knight. He was almost like a brother to the blue knight, but almost impossibly larger. It was as if he was made entirely of muscle—Nesta could see as much even with his armor covering almost everything except his neck and head. His skin was a deep brown and his hair, long and black and wavy, had been gathered into a messy half ponytail. He was a warrior, that much was clear, and Nesta had no idea how someone who looked like that could possibly exist in today’s world. He looked like Arthur, or Gawain, or Lancelot—someone from myths created centuries ago. 

“Shit, shit, shit there he is!” Feyre yanked on Nesta’s arm to drag her attention away from the red knight and point out—not subtly, mind you—the reason they were all here in the first place. The king who presided over the arena and the tournament had just stepped onto a platform situated against one of the walls. He was tall and dark-haired, and the kind of attractive that had from money written all over him. Not that someone who was from money would want to work at a place like this. But still—something about the smug smile and the glint in his eyes as he surveyed “his kingdom” made Nesta shudder slightly. No thanks. 

She turned a skeptical eye toward Feyre. “Him? Out of all of them?” She asked, gesturing to the knights who were bringing their horses to a rest in front of the dias. “You’re going with him?”

“What?” Feyre turned to Nesta in shock. “Do you have eyes?”

“Do you?”

Feyre crossed her arms in front of her chest, turning back to look at the king. “He’s clearly the hottest one here.”

“Okay, Feyre,” Nesta said, pursing her lips and deciding to let the argument drop. If he did it for her sister, then so be it. 

She turned back to the center of the arena to see that all of the knights had come to a stop in a line. The crowd was murmuring, pointing at the assembled men and occasionally whooping for their assigned knight. The red knight was looking over at their section, his eyes locked on Nesta. When he realized that she saw him, he winked and gave a small bow with his head. Nesta scowled, ignoring the spark of interest that flared to life somewhere in her chest. She would not let herself be flustered by a Medieval Times actor. She wouldn’t. 

The king raised a hand, and the crowd quieted. “My loyal subjects!” His voice, low and smooth, boomed over the gathered crowds. “I am his Royal Majesty, King Rhysand. Thank you for joining me here today to watch as the heroic knights of the kingdom fight for honor and for glory.” 

Nesta looked at Emerie and Gwyn and raised her eyebrows at his theatrics. Gwyn giggled, and the king’s gaze flashed over to where they were seated, roving over their group until his eyes landed on Feyre. His smile at the sight of her was sickeningly self-satisfied, and Nesta turned to see Feyre flush at his attention. 

“I am honored that so many handsome lords and fair maidens,” he continued, winking at Feyre, “decided to join me to welcome my court today. I don’t yet have a queen to join me in my revels, but perhaps I shall find her amongst your number today.” Nesta watched as Feyre, impossibly, flushed even deeper. She rolled her eyes.

“That is, unless you lose your heart to one of my knights.” Rhysand gestured toward the knights in front of him. “My friends! Introduce yourself to my honored guests!”

One by one, the knights stepped their horses forward, bowed to Rhysand, and called out their names. Sir Lucien. Sir Azriel. It was like they were characters out of some long-forgotten medieval tale, their names at once ancient and eternal. If those were actually their real names. Nesta doubted it. 

The green knight stepped his horse forward, and Nesta wondered if he would finally take off his helmet. He obliged Nesta’s request, and she realized, as a thick braid of lustrous blonde hair dropped on the knight’s shoulder and their face, all softness and full lips, came into view, that this knight was a woman. 

Emerie’s mouth was hanging slightly open at the sight. She leaned across Gwyn to whisper, “Nesta, I love you and I know I said I wouldn’t break the bonds of sisterhood for a wench in stays but,” she said, her eyes never leaving the armored woman, “for a wench in armor? I don’t know you.”

And then it was the red knight’s turn. He bowed slightly to acknowledge the king and said, with a small smirk, “Sir Cassian, your majesty.” 

His voice washed over Nesta, deep and husky and filled with laughter, and she hated that something in her shivered at the sound of it and the sheer power it carried. She wondered, idly if that power extended to other areas of his life.

“And there you have it, my subjects!” The king’s voice rang out again, breaking her out of her rapidly devolving reverie. “Please give a warm welcome to my loyal knights as we begin our tournament!”

The crowd burst into cheers, and the knights smiled and waved at their respective sections, which, in their turn, cheered even more loudly until the entire arena was awash in sound. 

The red knight—Sir Cassian—was looking toward where they were sitting in his section, and, at his wave, Nesta’s sisters and traitorous friends burst into renewed applause and cheers. She took a sip of her wine, pointedly not joining in.

He frowned slightly, and she raised an eyebrow in challenge, taking another drink while maintaining eye contact. He looked away, and she smiled vindictively before turning to berate Emerie and Gwyn for caving so easily.

But before she could say anything, she was interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats and a deep, murmured, “My lady.”

Nesta turned, and there he was at the edge of the arena, sitting astride his giant horse and looking directly at her. He was nearly at eye level with her, even from her seat in the raised stand, and she was struck by just how tall he was. His hands, as they held his horse’s reins, looked massive as well, and she wondered, just for a moment, how they would feel spanning across her waist, her breasts, her—

She shook her head and scowled at him. “Me? No, thank you.”

He only smirked at her refusal before continuing on. “While it used to be tradition that maidens would give tokens to their favored knights before a tournament, here in the arena, it is the knights who give tokens to their ladies,” he said, pulling a red silken handkerchief out of a pocket somewhere—did suits of armor have pockets?—and held it out to her.

Nesta crossed her arms, reminded herself that he was just a guy in a tin can, and scowled. “I’m not your lady.”

“And yet, I still have a token for you.” He kept his arm outstretched and met her gaze. “Only you.”

His eyes—distractingly smudged with eyeliner—were a lovely shade of hazel, and they sparked with warmth and mirth as he looked at her. From this close, she could see that he had earrings as well—small red studs in each lobe and tiny golden hoops along his cartilage. He looked charming and wicked and roguish, and Nesta found that she couldn’t tear her gaze away—that she didn’t want to.

And, well, she was only human. Who could blame her for being interested? 

But she wouldn’t cave that easily, so she said, instead,  “Not until you earn it.”

Something flared in his eyes at the challenge, and he said, easily and certainly, “As my lady commands.” He left the red handkerchief on the table in front of Nesta and went to prepare for the tournament.

As he rode away, Feyre turned to her with a shit-eating grin. “Having fun yet, Nesta?”

“Shut up, Feyre.”

[edenkyubiko]

BIRTHDAY APPRECIATION POST ‼️‼️🎂

Let me @ the lovely people first before I get sappy!

@tw1nkee28 @doodling-doodle @sw11ft @imakosideas @olibird @pampanope

IF I'M FORGETTING/DON'T HAVE YOUR @ PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

AUGH, I CAN'T ADD THEM ALL BUT I TRIED MY BEST

now for the sappy mushy lovey dovey part

I just want to start by saying how incredibly thankful I am to Pam for creating this amazing server. It came into my life at a time when I really needed it. I had been feeling out of place and alone, even in some of the other groups I was part of. But when I joined here, I immediately felt surrounded by people who share the same interests and hobbies as me. And what makes it even better is that we can talk about anything!

I've met some truly wonderful people, and you all have helped me grow so much as an artist. For the longest time, I struggled with developing my character and writing, but being around all of you, watching everyone create and seeing how we lift each other up with love and support — even for the silliest things — has made my heart swell. It’s something I wasn’t used to before. I’ve never received such kind words or encouragement for my work, and hearing them from you all genuinely makes my day every single time.

Just being able to talk or text with you guys while I’m working on something or playing a game means more to me than I can put into words. You have no idea how much those little moments matter to me. I honestly wish I could give you all the biggest hug.

And the fact that you all went out of your way to create these masterpieces for me... I’m honestly baffled. I’m not used to receiving gifts, so it’s been hard for me to learn how to accept them, but I was genuinely getting teary-eyed when people stayed up until midnight just to wish me a happy birthday. Birthdays have never been a big deal to me — I always treated them like any other day — but you all made this one truly unforgettable!

I'm glad that my 21st will forever be a core memory!

Now....just you wait :3

I have many things in store for everyone