#its okay! it shall be dealt with

[sunshineram]

more plant updates :D

getting so big and tall! starting to hook onto the trellis :) with totally no help from me :) cause it totally knows how to hook on by itself :))

getting more leaves! but im gonna have to move them to the other side of the window cause its more shaded… this az summer sun is scorching their poor baby leaves…

getting so many sprouts!! oh my... hope this doesnt become an issue >>;

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I absolutely adore you and your writing, you truly have a gift!

Can I please request something with James Potter where readers anxiety is really bad and is super emotional cause pms and is just kinda struggling and needs to be dealt with the most gently? Totally not projecting much at all lol 😬😫🤣

Totally no pressure if you don’t feel up to it! I love reading anything you write ❤️❤️

Hi lovely, thanks so much!!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 772 words

“Here y’go, love.” James presses a mug’s handle into your hands, and you take it quickly once you realize he’s holding the hot sides. 

“James!” you hiss, chiding. “You’re going to burn yourself.”

Only James Potter could make a shrug seem fond. He sits down beside you on the couch, hand resting on your thigh, and the knee you hadn’t realized you’d been jiggling slows to a stop. 

“What’s eating you?” he asks mildly, rubbing you from knee to hip as he sips his tea, quietly hinting for you to do so as well. 

You sigh, blowing on your tea before raising it to your lips. “Nothing so important I should be this stressed about it,” you say bitterly. “It’s just PMS.” 

You hate how your hormones mess with you around this time of the month. It makes it feel like you can’t trust yourself, because you’re never sure if the emotions you’re experiencing are valid or amplified by your body’s punishing cycle. Your already oversensitive nerves go into overdrive, and you feel three times as susceptible to bouts of rage or crying, though which one it’ll be is as good as a coin toss. Everything is just more, and all the time, and it sucks. 

James makes a sad puppy sound. “Yeah? Are you hurting, honey?” 

“Not really.” You have a headache, but that’s probably more due to your anxiety than anything else. 

“Well, why don’t you try telling me what’s bothering you,” James suggests. “Even if you think it’s not a big deal, maybe I can help.” 

You sigh again, a heaving, dramatic exhale. “Macy’s having a birthday party this weekend.” 

That surprises a smile out of James, and he tilts his head to look at you bemusedly. “Oh, how nefarious! Shall we curse her?” 

You give him a look that says not funny, even as your own lips curl up slightly. James smothers his grin as best he can (which is to say, not very well), nodding at you seriously to continue. 

“I just—” you heave another sigh, and James’ hand redoubles its efforts on your leg, squeezing the fatty inner part encouragingly. “I’m not going to know anyone there, and I’m going to have to go straight after work on Friday, and she and her friends always stay out so much later than I want to. I just know I’m going to be exhausted.” 

“Okay.” James is nodding, still looking slightly confused. “So don’t go.” 

“But it’s her birthday,” you say, the last syllable taking an unexpected turn into whiny territory as your eyes grow wet. “I don’t have an excuse to miss it and I’ll be the worst friend in the world if I do.” 

“Sweetheart, hey.” James’ voice takes on a slight panicked edge due to the appearance of tears, though you can tell he’s trying to be soothing. His hand abandons your leg to snake around your waist, scrubbing up and down your side. “Honey, you’re a great friend. You’re just looking out for yourself a little bit,” he promises, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s think about who’s going to be more upset, alright? If you miss it, Macy might be a bit sad you didn’t come, but she’s still got all of her other friends who don’t know you anyway, and the party will probably go on as it would have. But if you go, you’ll have to hurry there straight after work, you might be too tired to be much fun, and you could end up miserable the whole night. Sound right?” You nod wretchedly, and he hums into your hair. “So just miss this one, and make it up to her with lunch or something another time, yeah?” At your hesitation, he adds, “You have plans Friday night, you can’t make it.” 

You look up at James. “I don’t have plans, though. I don’t want to lie to her.” 

“Sure you do, sweetheart,” he contradicts you, grinning. “You have plans with me, duh. You’ve only been friends with Macy for a couple months, right?” You nod. “Well then sorry, Macy, but I’m pulling rank.” You laugh, and James swoops down to kiss at your dimple when it appears. “I need my girl for Friday night. She’s pre-engaged.” 

James can never stop kissing once he’s gotten started, and you hide your cheek from him in his own chest, wrapping your arms around his waist in an awkward sort of hug. “Thanks, Jamie.” 

You can still hear the smile in his voice. “Anytime, my love. Now, since that’s been resolved, do you think you can drink your tea? It’s gonna get cold.”

[anyasathenaeum]

*KICKS DOWN DOOR* YOU ASK FOR ERIKS AND I SHALL INDULGE ok so what im gonna need is some where the reader thinks Vash (they were dating before everything went to shit) is dead until they blow into town with Woofboy and they do the whole Recognition thing yknow. Ok and so after all the Bad Shit gets dealt with and they have a moment alone to talk, he thinks that they're not gonna be in love with him anymore after all this time and might even be pissed at him for sort of "abandoning" them but they just express nothing but joy at having him back in their arms again and how they're soulmates and sappy stuff like that and its very sweet and emotional and raw because they missed each other so so much. And if you sprinkled just a little spice at the end I wouldn't mind cuz the long hair and stubble is so sexy on that man. Maybe it would be great part 2 bait idk I don't wanna put too much on you. Might be best to play that by ear.

Sorry this is so long I got excited when I saw ur post ily bye.

Across Time and Space (Part 1)

A/N: HECK YEAH ANON I AM SO HERE FOR THIS. ERIKS!VASH HURT COMFORT LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I'm mostly going off of 98!Eriks with some Stampede!Eriks mixed in hehe and this is gonna have to be split into 2 parts because I'm INSPIRED. This part is mostly set up and some hurt in the hurt/comfort part of things. :P Read the continuation in part 2 here!

Pairing: Eriks!Vash x reader

Warnings: Some slight violence, mention of nudity, literally just going off episode 18 of Trigun so potential spoilers, potential spoilers for episode 12 of Trigun Stampede, the "hurt" part of "hurt/comfort"

You brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the glaring sunlight as the tiny town came into view, the bus you were on finally arriving after what felt like an eternity and a half.

"Remind me again why we chose to come to this tiny town, Wolfwood," You grumbled under your breath, grabbing your backpack and strapping it to your back as you started to get ready to disembark from the bus.

"Cause we gotta see if we can find the Humanoid Typhoon here," The priest replied, shooting you a smile that you couldn't bring yourself to return.

"Vash is dead, Wolfwood," You snapped back, your heart tightening in your chest as you said his name for what felt like the first time in forever, "He's dead, and we're not finding him."

Wolfwood just stayed silent, watching you carefully as you let out a deep sigh, rubbing your face with your hands, trying desperately to brush off the pain that the mere thought of Vash had brought you.

Wolfwood wasn't a fool - he knew you and Vash had been in love with each other. He knew that you and Vash were more than friends, that Vash was everything to you. Wolfwood remembered how you seemed to stop living after the disaster in the city of July, when the city was turned into a crater and Vash was nowhere to be found. You had watched the man you loved fall from the sky and the city cave in on itself in a massive explosion of energy - there was no way Vash could've survived that.

When Vash died, so did you. You existed, sure - you walked and talked and drank and ate, but you had stopped living. It was heartbreaking to watch - both Wolfwood and Meryl couldn't stand to see you so broken, but nothing they did could bring Vash back. And so, you became silent, closed-off, and you never smiled anymore.

"I'm sorry, Wolfwood. I just... don't see the point in hoping for what can't be," You apologized, your voice quiet as you stared down at the floor, your heart aching in your chest as Vash's smiling face appeared in your mind.

Wolfwood sighed a bit and just stepped forward, throwing his arm around your shoulder casually. However, when he spoke, his tone was surprisingly gentle.

"It's okay. You're still hurting, (Y/N). Let's just get off this bus and settle in, yeah?"

You nodded, pulling up your hood to cover your head as you followed Wolfwood off the bus, shoving through all the people who were fighting to get on the bus you had just arrived on.

"What the hell is all that about?" You muttered, glancing at Wolfwood in confusion as you both watched the crowd of people swarming the bus, many of them shouting at the driver to let them on.

"No clue, but I have a feeling we'll find out real soon," Wolfwood replied, his shades glistening in the sunlight as he turned his head, gesturing towards a building not too far away, "Let's start at the saloon. If anybody's got information, they'll likely be there."

You just nodded and followed Wolfwood, keeping your head down and your face hidden - you didn't feel like starting a conversation with anybody who recognized you as new to the town.

However, that plan immediately went out the window the moment you and Wolfwood stepped foot into the saloon, as you suddenly found every person in the saloon pointing their guns at the two of you. You let out a stifled yelp and threw your hands up, your heart beating fast in your chest. You heard Wolfwood let out a small sound just like you had, his hands up in the air, too, sweating slightly as he glanced around.

Thankfully, after a few seconds, the townsfolk decided you weren't a threat and lowered their weapons. With that, you and Wolfwood slowly approached the bar, and you could hear Wolfwood chatting with the bartender. As he did, you walked over to the window of the saloon, gazing at the people walking by and watching the mob chasing after the bus you had arrived on.

'Man, what a weird place,' You thought to yourself, 'Feels so tense here.'

Suddenly, you watched the ground near the bus explode, sending people flying through the air and causing Wolfwood to exclaim, "What happened over there?"

The bartender explained that the town was overrun with bandits, and then you heard the name "Vash the Stampede" escape his lips and your heart just about stopped in your chest. However, you immediately recognized that the kind of violence being orchestrated by this gang being run by "Vash the Stampede" was everything Vash opposed. There was no way this was Vash's doing.

'Like it matters, he's been dead for almost two years anyway,' You thought to yourself bitterly, your mouth pressing into a thin line. You weren't listening to whatever the bartender was telling Wolfwood, but you found yourself glancing over at the entrance as you heard the door swing open.

All the patrons immediately had their guns pointing at the intruders, which in this case, happened to be a tall man with long, blonde hair wearing glasses, holding a young girl with short, brown hair in what almost looked like a chokehold. You found yourself reaching for your own weapon, readying to fight the man until you heard the girl speak.

"Uh oh. Hey, what's the big idea you guys?!"

You jumped a little at how loud she was, and you heard the patrons mumbling to themselves, "Oh, it's only Lina."

"What do you mean "only Lina"?! Let go of me, Eriks!" The young girl, Lina, shouted, freeing herself from the grasp of the tall, blonde man who simply let her go and watched her walk towards the bar, his expression surprised.

"Lina, what's the big hurry?" The bartender asked as the girl walked over, standing right next to you and Wolfwood. You studied the girl carefully, deciding that she couldn't be older than 12 at the most.

'She's very brave, I gotta give her that,' You thought to yourself, your lip twitching upwards a bit.

"I was wondering if you could hide me somewhere," Lina asked, a sheepish smile on her face as she asked.

The bartender looked a bit concerned as he inquired, "What did you do this time?"

"She doesn't know when to quit."

You jumped out of your skin at the sudden, new voice - the tall, blonde man, Eriks, had walked up to the bar without you noticing. You physically jumped, your hood falling from your head and revealing your face, not that it mattered - you weren't trying to hide anymore.

"Oh, sorry! Did I scare yo-?" Eriks began to apologize, turning to look at you as he did so, but his sentence died in his mouth as he looked at your face, his eyes widening behind his glasses.

"It's okay," You let out a jittery half-chuckle, just trying to recollect yourself, "I just didn't hear you walk up to the bar, just startled me a bit."

Eriks didn't say a word - he just continued to look at you, his eyes almost owlishly wide. You couldn't decode the expression on the man's face, and you began to feel uncomfortable at the level of intensity in his gaze.

"Um... is something wrong?" You asked, your voice making it clear that you were becoming uncomfortable.

That was enough to snap Eriks out of whatever stupour he was in, with him shaking his head a bit as though trying to clear it, his tone a bit embarrassed, "S-Sorry! No, nothing's wrong, you just... you look like somebody I knew once."

You found yourself wanting to smile a bit, but the words struck pain into your heart again and you just nodded, your lips pressing into a thin line once again.

"I see."

The man, Eriks, let out a nervous laugh before extending his hand to you for you to shake, "I'm Eriks. Sorry about startling you...?"

It was clear he was asking for your name. You just extended your hand and took his, shaking it firmly, "(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."

You thought you felt Eriks' grip on your hand falter for half a moment, but you brushed it off - probably nothing of note.

"N-Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," Eriks replied, his voice breaking slightly. He was evidently very, very nervous.

"Are you okay?" You asked bluntly, "You look ready to pass out."

Eriks just nodded before letting your hand go, "Y-Yeah! I'm good, I'm fine. Just, um... Lina's in trouble."

You didn't entirely buy that sudden excuse, but you decided to go with it, "Uh oh, what did she do?"

That's when you heard Lina explaining that she thumped a bandit across the face and that the bandit was coming after her.

"What are you telling me?" The bartender asked, his voice full of worry and his expression becoming one of horror, "Oh, my dear..."

"Yeah... I'm afraid so," Lina confirmed, leaning on the bar with a sad expression on her face, "And they weren't real happy about it. But, at least I don't think they saw me come in here."

The bartender immediately began to yell, and before you had a second to process what was happening, the wall next to you exploded, causing you to cry out as you got thrown across the room.

"Hey... I wasn't done eating yet," You heard Wolfwood complain, and you groaned as you sat up from the floor where you'd landed. You could've laughed at the image of Wolfwood holding his knife and fork over his plate, which was now crushed by a piece of broken wall.

"(Y/N)! You okay?"

You looked up to see Eriks standing above you, offering you his hand to help you up, which you took gladly.

"Yeah, I'm okay," You replied, brushing yourself off as you got to your feet, wincing slightly as your back ached from the impact, "I'm probably badly bruised, but I don't think anything's broken."

The look of relief on Eriks' face didn't feel like it matched what it should've been for a stranger he had just met - he looked relieved as he would look if you had been one of his closest friends. It was weird.

However, before you had a moment longer to think about it all, you heard yelling coming from outside the bar - the bandit who Lina had hit, yelling to give her up or that he'd shoot again if they didn't.

You grit your teeth, anger surging through your body - how dare this bandit threaten a child? She may be feisty and fiery, but she was still just a child. You grabbed your weapon and began to walk towards the hole in the wall, but somebody stopped you in your tracks, putting their arm out in front of you - Eriks.

"No, wait. Let me handle this," He spoke, his voice quiet but very sure. A surge of familiarity coursed through you - where had you heard this before? That tone... that calmness... it unsettled you as you knew you'd heard it before, but where? You couldn't pin it.

That split second of you being thrown off by the sudden feeling of déjà-vu was all Eriks needed before he walked out of the bar, his hands in the air, trying to appease the bandit and stop him from doing further damage to anybody or anything.

"Wolfwood," You mumbled, coming up to the priest, "Is it just me, or does Eriks feel... familiar to you?"

The priest just looked at you carefully, "Familiar? Familiar how?"

"I don't know," You confessed, "Just... the way he spoke to me just now reminded me of-"

Your eyes widened and your words died on your lips as you realized exactly who Eriks had reminded you of.

Vash.

You didn't need to say anything - Wolfwood could see the immediate look of shock on your face, the realization dawning on you. You could feel your breathing picking up and your heart rate was starting to go through the roof - why did Eriks sound so much like Vash? Hadn't you suffered enough? To lose Vash once was agony. But to be reminded of him now? It was unbearable.

"Woah, (Y/N), woah, calm down, breathe. You need to breath."

You could hear Wolfwood's words, but you couldn't understand them, couldn't process them. You were bordering on a full-blown panic attack. The world suddenly became quieter, all sounds muted, as though you were underwater. You couldn't process anything else going on around you right now. All you could do was stumble to your feet and run to the hole in the wall of the saloon, your eyes landing on the blonde man who reminded you so much of the love of your life.

You didn't really understand what was happening - you could vaguely hear the tones and timbre of Eriks' voice and the voice of the bandit, but you couldn't make out the words. You watched as Eriks bowed to the bandit all the way to the ground, trying to apologize on Lina's behalf and diffuse the situation, but it apparently hadn't been enough.

The bandit yelled something at Eriks, to which he apparently agreed. To your surprise, you watched as Eriks suddenly... began to take off his clothes?

"W-What?" You mumbled, not understanding what was happening. All you could make out was the sound of Lina crying next to you, and Wolfwood comforting her as Eriks defended her, even at the cost of his pride.

When you looked back at Eriks, you suddenly felt as though you had been hit by a truck.

Those scars... that body... the missing arm replaced with a prosthetic...

All you heard before the ground came up to meet you and the world went black around you was the sound of Wolfwood exclaiming your name - "(Y/N)!".

You don't know how long you'd been unconscious for, but when you found yourself waking up, you didn't recognize your surroundings. You were in a rather large room, laying on what could've only been a hospital bed, right next to a large window. There were no other beds or patients in the room with you - it was just you. And-

"Morning, sweetheart."

You jumped, turning to see Wolfwood sitting at your bedside, a smirk on his face as his cigarette dangled between his lips crookedly.

"W-Wolfwood," You spoke, your voice strained, "W-What-?"

"You dropped like a stone," Wolfwood explained, standing from his chair and walking over to sit right next to you on your bed, "You saw Eriks' scars and I guess the realization of who he was was just too much for you to handle. Can't say I'm surprised, it's not every day you learn that supposedly dead love of your life isn't actually dead."

Wolfwood just grinned at you, but you just sat there, unmoving, eyes staring forward like you were a statue, not really seeing whatever you were looking at. The memories of what had preceded your passing out came back to you in flashes, and before Wolfwood could continue speaking, you were suddenly sobbing as you had never sobbed before.

All the pain, the sadness, the grief, the loneliness, the feeling of having part of you missing for so long overwhelmed you, making you feel every bit of emotion you had been repressing over the past two years. You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, crying your eyes out as you buried your face into your knees, unable to comprehend what was happening. Surely you were dead, or dreaming, because there was no way that Vash was really alive.

Unless...

"I'll leave you be," You heard Wolfwood say gruffly, before he stood up, patting your back and leaving you alone to confront your emotions.

After that, Wolfwood walked over to another patient's room - that of Eriks, or rather, Vash the Stampede. He had already spoken to Vash earlier, telling him about the fact that Millions Knives was still at large, but now... this was going to be a very different conversation.

Wolfwood didn't even bother knocking, just letting himself right into Vash's room, walking over to where the blonde young man sat in his bed.

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't straight up kill (Y/N)," Wolfwood started, a small smirk on his face as he sat next to Vash, who was just watching him carefully. He watched Vash's expression become one of concern the moment your name left Wolfwood's lips.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked, eyebrows furrowing at Wolfwood's statement - the last Vash saw of you was when he stopped you from taking on the bandit yourself, and you were fine, then.

Wolfwood sighed, "(Y/N) saw your scars, Stampede. It was too much for them to handle and they passed out cold. Smacked their head pretty bad on the way down, but that was my bad, I didn't expect them to go down."

"What?!" Vash exclaimed, his blue eyes widening in worry. He immediately began to try to get out of his bed, but Wolfwood stopped him.

"(Y/N)'s spent the last two years grieving you, Vash. They believed you were dead. This is a bigger shock than you know. They heard nothing from you and the last thing they saw of you was when July city imploded on itself."

Vash's eyes somehow managed to widen even more, and tears were beginning to well in them as Wolfwood explained the situation to him. Wolfwood told him everything he knew - about how you'd essentially become a living statue, not truly living beyond basic existence, about how broken you'd become, how closed-off and sad you were now. You'd been changed so badly that neither Vash nor Wolfwood were really sure if you'd ever rebound from this.

By the time Wolfwood was done explaining, Vash found himself crying silently, his heart torn to pieces at the thought of what this had done to you.

"They loved you more than anything, Vash," Wolfwood stated quietly, standing up as he went to take his leave for the second time that day, "I think you owe them an explanation and a very big apology."

With that, Wolfwood left Vash to his own thoughts, just as he had done to you earlier.

Vash sat there, just replaying everything Wolfwood had told him in his mind. He was telling the truth, Vash knew - he had seen the look on your face when he initially saw you as Eriks. Vash had been so taken aback by you when he took a good look at your face - you looked so much like yourself, but simultaneously so different.

Your face had new scars, and lines engraved in your skin from frowning and worrying rather than from smiling, as you used to in the past. Your expression was tired and somewhat empty, even as you greeted him, and your tone was dull and serious. And your eyes...

Tears began to course down Vash's cheeks freely, soft sobs escaping from his throat as pain jolted through him as he recalled your eyes.

Your eyes were utterly lifeless. Like you had died in every way except physically.

Vash had had to restrain himself from gasping loudly, sobbing his heart out and begging you for forgiveness when he'd looked at you for the first time in two years. He had wanted nothing more than to pull you into his embrace as he used to do before July then and there, but when you failed to recognize him, Vash knew that he couldn't do that to you.

'There's no way they still love me now,' Vash thought to himself, his pain intensifying and his cries becoming louder as he sobbed into his hands, 'I've destroyed them, too.'

You were the love of Vash's life. Nobody ever meant more to him than you did, and after the destruction of July city... Vash couldn't face you. He was a murderer, while you were innocent, pure, and good. He couldn't bring himself to look for you, or try to reach out to you, because he had wanted to keep you safe. Especially now that his bounty was 60 billion double dollars and everybody was hunting for him.

But when he saw you in that saloon... and he saw how damaged you'd become... he realized that he'd done had been wrong. So, so wrong. You'd loved him all that time, to the point where his supposed death broke you beyond repair, and it was all Vash's fault. In trying to protect you, he'd been the one to hurt you worse than anybody ever had before.

And now, he had to find the strength to face you. But how could he?

"Your gun! Give me your gun, hurry!"

Vash suddenly heard the frantic, panicked voice of Lina's grandmother, Grandma Sheryl, coming from downstairs. He focused in, wiping the tears off his face as he listened.

"It's Lina, they got her!"

The arguing continued, and Vash knew what he had to do then. Once he'd rescued Lina, he'd talk to you. He'd face you, and finally pay for his mistake.

As Vash dressed and exited his room, he found Wolfwood standing there, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips once more.

"They got (Y/N), too, it seems like," Wolfwood stated, looking surprisingly calm despite having to deliver terrible news, "Guess they thought (Y/N) was a worthy hostage."

Vash's eyes widened, and his gaze hardened slightly, his heart twisting hard in his chest at the thought of you in danger - despite the two years that had passed, Vash still loved you more than anything in his life, and he still sought to protect you. He had thought of you every day, wondering where you were, what you were up to, if you'd missed him...

He had to rescue you and Lina as soon as possible.

With his teeth gritted and his gun holstered, Vash headed out with Wolfwood trailing in his wake.

"Then, let's go get them."

Wolfwood just smirked.

"There's the Stampede I used to know."

[foli-vora]

Female reader. Steven grant. Prompts: 21, 26, 75.

In my mind is something like reader having to protect sweet Steven, so she breaks up with him and he’s destroyed and begs her to not leave him or something but ends up telling her he hates her after the whole break up scene, and she leaves.

Break my heart with this please. I want to feel stevens sadness and readers heart breaking knowing it’s what she has to do.

CONGRATS ON 3K MY LOVE!!! PRECIOUS FOLI IM SO HAPPY TO SAY THAT IVE BEEN HERE FOR LONG RIDE!! It’s an absolute honor to read you.

my sweet love, i am so honoured you've been here for the long haul and i appreciate you so much! thank you for your request, i had so much fun breaking sweet boi's heart! i hope this is painful enough for you x

tear into my heart

steven grant x f!reader

word count: 2359 warnings: angst. so much angst. mention of the avengers/other marvel characters, brief mention of S.H.I.E.L.D & HYDRA, mentions of danger, mentions of death/dying, lies, a fake affair, break up, brief violence (throwing a plate)

Dread.

It fills you. It runs through your veins, churns restlessly in your gut and fills your throat until it feels impossible to inhale. Panic begins to build, with sweat stinging at your skin and bringing a wave of fog over your mind.

How had things gotten so out of hand? You’d thought for sure the situation would be contained, would be dealt with so easily. It was looking fine, everything had gone well and it was meant to just be over. Done with. Finished. You should’ve known it was never that simple.

Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.

How did you get here? Maybe you could explain, maybe you could keep him safe, maybe it didn’t have to be this way—

Bucky sighs, the crackled whisper of it falling into your ear from your phone and you bite down on your lip to stem the bitter feel of tears. 

“I’m sorry, doll. I wish there was another way.”

You swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat, picking at the blanket beneath you. The blanket you often shared with him.

The blanket he’d draped around your shoulders when you had a cold, the blanket you tucked around him when he fell asleep reading on the couch… so many memories with just a bit of fabric. You dare not look around to see the other trinkets and memories lingering in his flat.

“Am I doing the right thing, Buck? I don’t want to hurt him, surely I—we—can protect him—”

“I wish I could say we could, but the reality is I just don’t know. Do you want to risk it?”

Could you risk it by staying? Risk him?

“No,” you reply softly, knowing you’d rather suffer the pain of not being with him rather than the pain of potentially burying him. You needed him safe. You needed to know he was safe.

“Maybe once this is over, you could sit him down and explain everything. He might understand?”

Would he? Would you even get that far? While confident in your skills and abilities, there was always a chance of not walking away, and you might never have the chance to fix anything. Death has never frightened you — the possibility simply came with the job and you had long made peace with that, but now?

A trickle of fear buds in the centre of your chest. Could you die knowing you had left him heartbroken? Could you die knowing you didn’t utter a final ‘I love you’? Would he even know you died?

As far as he knew, you worked in an office. A simple job, with occasional travel included.

You hated lying, but it just seemed a lot easier than coming out with the whole 'Oh, well I worked as an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D before that went up in literal flames and I’m now actually stationed in London and employed by the Avengers on the recommendation of Agent Barton'.

Steven was nervous enough in the beginning, you didn’t need another reason to scare him away with that whole backstory. 

“Yeah… maybe,” you mutter, desperately blinking the shine of tears overtaking your vision. “Okay. I’ll be an hour or so, I don’t want to just leave him a note—I want to do it properly.”

“We’ll be here, doll.”

Knowing you didn’t have long until Steven got home, you pass some time by shoving clothes into a bag and clearing your things from the bathroom, trying to not focus on the way his toothbrush now sits alone in the cup. You can barely look at your reflection in the mirror.

Emotion claws at your throat when you empty your side drawer and pluck the single polaroid from its depths. You hold it between two fingers, studying the way he looks so damn handsome in his glasses and fully focused on the little book in his hands, completely oblivious to you taking a photo.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips over its shiny surface before slipping it carefully into the front pocket of your bag, unwilling to part from it should he not want to see you once you were finished with the mission.

At least he’d be safe.

“Take care of him, Gus,” you murmur to the glass, watching the orange fish swim his usual paths through his tank.

The door opens, drawing your attention away from the little animal, and in shuffles Steven, rustling with a plastic shopping bag and a tired smile that considerably brightens when his eyes find you. Your heart quickens in your chest, his presence never failing to send your system into a tizzy.

He’s too good for this, too good for you.

“Hiya, love. Gods, you would not believe the day I’ve had—”

Off he goes.

You love his ramblings. You love how he would use his hands so much as he talks, how expressive he would get and how he was oblivious to anything happening around him. He would talk and talk and talk, and you would soak it all up, hanging on every word falling from his lips.

Just for a moment, you enjoy the normality of it; the calm before the storm, the peace before the pain. He’d stop soon, realising he hadn’t yet given you a kiss, so you straighten before he can do so, knowing if you were to feel that simple, tender press of his lips you wouldn’t have the strength to walk out the door.

“Steven?”

The word gets trapped in your throat.

“—and then some kid knocked the stuffed scarabs over so that was a little disaster in itself coz you know what Donna’s like. Oh! There’s that new David Attenborough doco on the telly tonight so I thought we could watch that and order in some tea, maybe have a little b—”

“Steven,” you repeat louder, firmer, “we need to talk.”

Immediately, he stops. His eyes fly to you and you fight to weaken at the softness swimming in them. This is for him, you remind yourself. It’s all for him. He’d be killed if they knew.

“I thought we already were, though it was a bit hard for you to get a word in what with me going on,” he gives a chuckle, but your face remains indifferent to it. His eyes flick over your face, taking in your cool, stiffly set features and his smile falters. “You ‘right, love?”

Here we go. I’m so sorry.

“No. I’m leaving.”

He blinks, “You what?”

“I’m leaving. This is over.”

“Over?” Confusion twists his brows, his face pinching as the words ring through his ears. “What do you mean ‘over’?”

“I mean this—” you gesture between him and yourself, “—is over. What we have? It’s done. I’m done, Steven. I’m leaving.”

“What? No, you—you can’t. We—” he runs a flustered hand through his curls, his chest jumping with his sharp inhale, “everything’s great. It’s great. Wh… I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur before you can stop the words from falling, forcing yourself to swallow the feel of your heart beating in your throat.

“Is it the sleep thing? Love, I-I’m sorry, I can… I can figure something out! I’ll tie myself to the bloody bed if I have to!” He smiles, laughs, but it’s all nerves, panic. 

So many nights you’d woken to him up and moving about. The first time it happened, it was almost as if he didn’t recognise you, like he was so lost to dreams that he wasn’t truly there and was startled at your presence. It happened frequently, almost every night, and with the more you began to stay over, the more it became a routine. 

You’d coax him into bed, wrap him in the quilt and kiss his cheek with a loud smack, expecting his dorky little chuckle or an adoring little comment, but instead you were met with stares that didn’t seem quite so familiar. He looked like Steven, smelt like Steven, but the eyes… there was something there. 

“No Steven, it’s not the sleep thing.”

“Is—is it me?” He asks shakily, faltering on a step forward and bringing his hands together anxiously, his fingers turning and twisting around the others. “I know I can be a bit much, love, but I-I can change… I’ll do anything for you, anything—”

It pierces right through your chest, impaling your heart and tearing it in half. How could he think that? He’s lovely. So, so lovely. You’ve never met anyone like Steven. He’s beautiful. He’s smart. He’s kind and warm and so damn sweet—

“It’s not you, please believe me when I say that.”

No, it’s not you, precious boy. I’m so sorry. 

His hands begin to tremble.

There’s nothing more to say. It’s done. You let your gaze fall away from him, taking a quick second to gather yourself and keep your posture straight, ensuring to swallow down the pressure in your throat before it could morph into tears. 

He moves when you do, watches you pick up the readied bag he had passed coming in, and he steps in front of the door, holding a hand out in an effort to keep you still.

“Love, please—”

“I’m going, Steven.”

He doesn’t move. He stands there in your way, hands shaking by his sides, his lips pressing tightly together to keep the noticeable wobble at bay. 

“Please let me do this,” you mutter, the dull sting pricking the back of your eyes. Get out now.

“You can’t leave, love. You can’t, we—you’re my everything. Please—please, just—we can fix this. Whatever it is, we can fix it!”

He won’t let go.

Gods, Steven, please let go.

The thought of this all blowing out of control and someone finding him… the thought of it makes you physically ill. Your mind rejects the images of him hurt, beaten, laying bleeding and broken on the floor, his eyes empty and staring vacantly into nothing.

Bile builds in your throat. You have to protect him, you have to keep him safe.

There’s a way to make him let go, but it’s fucking brutal, and you’re almost certain there’s no coming back from it. But it’s okay. If he’s safe, it will be okay. It’s for him.

A bubble of self loathing builds in your gut. Please forgive me.

The words make you sick.

“There’s someone else.”

The moment holds after your spoken words, the air in the flat turning harder somehow. His heart shatters. You can see it play across his face. First the confusion, your words not quite sinking in. Someone else? No. No, you would never. The denial—you wouldn’t do that… no, you love him, don’t you? The pain. It pierces right through to the very core of you.

You bite down hard on your tongue. There’s so much you want to say. You want to cry, you want to apologise, you want to cradle him and tell him there’s no one else, there could never be anyone else… but you stand firm, watching the daunting understanding leak into his features.

His shoulders drop, and those tortured eyes meet yours.

“Oh. What’s their name?”

Your training kicks in.

“James.”

“James,” he repeats quietly, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “How long?”

“Steven—”

“How long?”

“A few months,” you lie through your teeth.

Lying had always been somewhat of a second nature to you, but here? Now? The words burn your mouth. The lies feel acidic on your tongue. It burns to the point you think you can’t utter another word.

“All that time?” He whispers in surprise, his voice cracking.

His lips press firmly together but the action doesn’t stem the tears that build along his lash line. The barrier breaks and they eventually spill, falling from his eyes and painting his cheeks with trails of heartbreak.

“Does… does he know about me?”

You don’t answer, but he seems to draw a conclusion from the look on your face. He gives a barely there broken chuckle, forced through shaking lips.

“Bet you both had a right laugh,” he mutters scornfully, “while your stupid little boyfriend waited in his stupid little flat.” 

Your face creases, “Steven—”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to the floor as more tears stream down his face. “Gods I love you, but I fucking hate you right now.”

And with those final words, he crumbles.

His devastation is palpable, and your heart shatters alongside him.

He wraps his arms around himself, unable to raise his eyes enough to meet yours as he shuffles out of your way, freeing your exit and allowing you to leave. A warm tear slips down your cheek as you listen to the sounds of agony falling from his throat, spreading over your skin when your fingers rise to brush it away.

Every step towards the door is a struggle.

You want nothing more than to turn around, to stay. The door knob is ice cold under your fingers, mirroring the feeling of grief spreading out from your gut. His cries echo around you, burning into your mind with each broken inhale and heavy exhale.

The soul shattering sobs stop, and the startling finality of it is enough to have you pausing where you pull the door open. His curled shoulders stiffen and his body hardens, almost as if he just snapped right out of his heartbreak.

He half turns, his dark, wild gaze locking onto you from beneath the mop of curls falling over his eyes and you’re frozen from the bitter hostility filling them. The rage, the hatred.

It’s not the stare you’re used to meeting at night. This is different. 

The air changes, thickens.

He’s different. 

“Steven?”

“Get out,” he rasps, voice taking on a deeper, angrier husk and it’s not him—it’s not your Steven, “now.”

“What—”

“Leave!”

His hand swipes a plate from the table, sending it flying across the room before it shatters into pieces against the wall and you swallow a sob, quickly resuming your exit and aching at the sounds of further destruction that echo down the hall once the door slams shut.

-

moon bois tags: @acourtofsnakes, @greeneyedblondie44, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @itswanktime, @stevenmylove, @ruhro7, @juletheghoul, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @asgardiandeadpoetsociety, @excitedcurtain864, @chickencouncilrep, @bluestuesday, @katronautt, @what-iwish-you-knew, @totallynotastanacc, @bangaveragewhitewine, @chaoticevilbakugo, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @midgardianminx, @mishasminion360, @detectivecarisi-1, @quicksilvermad, @raphaelaisabella, @iceclaw101, @thatpinkshirt, @breakfastonpluto19, @withakindheartx, @sirpascal, @littleone65, @xoxabs88xox, @timpletance, @jitterbugs927, @randomchick546, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @Curiouser-an-curiouser, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @xxvariant, @welcometostayingawake, @trinkets01, @shadowolf993, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @lccs-world, @artsymaddie

[the-pink-quill]

Phee's Reaction to Non and Keng makes Perfect sense for the Character

And he's have felt very fairy-godfatherly if he had reacted any different.

Let's step back a bit, into Phee's shoes. Give up, for a moment, your omniscient knowledge of events as a viewer, and work only with the information and emotions of Phee, a 15/16 year old teenager. He's not an adult and not mature, so we will not judge his emotional response as such. He is also, far more privileged than Non, be it socially, financially, or in regard to his relationships with his family and his mental health. So, we shall keep that in mind.

Phee has no family pressuring him to prove himself, rather, from how politely his father talked to him in ep 9 despite having to cover for him in the accounts case (something which will anger any reasonable parent upon finding out their child was involved in illegal dealings), we can see he is fully secure in the knowledge that his father will back him up whenever he needs him to. His father probably also knows and is okay with the fact that his son is gay.

He is also charismatic, enough to wheedle into this friend group probably years after its formation and still have acquired enough authority to make them do something they didn't want to (the film) and take charge immediately after the fall of Por. He's also physically strong. That makes it extremely unlikely that he had ever been bullied or had to deal with bullying, and if you've never dealt with it, you don't know how hard it is for the victim.

Lastly, his family is not shown to be struggling and he is mentally sound (so far as we're shown).

Non is his boyfriend, who was, prior to the leak of the video, abnormally close to his teacher, enough for Phee to question Non about this. Despite reassurances, the doubt never went away. Phee asks Non, as any good boyfriend would, if he needs help, and Non says no.

And then the video drops. Phee is angry enough as is, as anybody, especially a teenager already frustrated with his boyfriend's secrecy would be, but then he catches him embracing the same teacher.

Again, I would reiterate that Phee is

1) a 15-year old child with the emotional and logical range of a 15-year old sheltered teenager,

2) not shown to be particularly taken with global scale activism which would be the only way he'd figure out, logically (and I would argue logic is not at the forefront of your mind when anger is the reigning emotion), that Non was being exploited.

Considering the response of the Thai public to the video and the fact that Keng wasn't immediately fired, the situation is not considered 'exploitive' by social standards. It seems to be taken for granted that the relationship was consensual. Coming from a country with similar values, let me tell you that students marrying their teachers is considered 'romantic' where I live. Heck, in my school, there was a teacher who flirted with some select students all the time, and was never fired. He was actually very popular, and it wasn't until years after I left school that I realized how problematic that was. It was not something we were taught, socially, was predatory.

Phee would have to be involved in global level activism, to see others from vastly different backgrounds talk about how problematic this behavior is, to realize that his perception of the situation was warped.

So, back to the video leak. Phee watches the video, and gets emotional fast. Despite his patience with Non thus far, he is not Buddha (if he were, he'd not have gotten involved in New's scheme). He sees proof of all his fears being proven true, and then sees, with his own eyes, further proof of the same. Of course he lashes out. Of course he leaves, because I suspect had he stayed, Keng would have gotten a lot more bruises, and not much talking would have been done.

Of course he says what he does to Non, from the innate urge to hurt him just how much he himself was hurting. In that moment, he may very well have used his knowledge of Non's insecurities and mental health issues to pointedly attack Non, because he is not thinking beyond his own hurt. And if you think you'd have reacted any differently, you're probably too old to remember what it felt like to be a teenager.

And of course he blocks Non.

If this were a reddit post, this is what it would read like:

"AITA for blocking my boyfriend after watching a video of him being intimate with his teacher, who he assured me repeatedly he was not involved with?"

Fill in the rest with Phee's knowledge of the situation (I do not think he knows about the mafia or the money he got from Keng or the true extent of the group's bullying; correct me if I am wrong) and tell me the replies, even from you, wouldn't be a resounding "Well Done!"

He finds out about a lot of things from reading Non's script, but the breakup was long before that. And I don't feel it right to blame him for a normal teenage reaction to his first relationship imploding in such a way.

Not when Chay from Kinnporsche was lauded for the same reaction.

[lover-of-mine]

This is "Let's Drown Buck, Giving Eddie a Shooting Moment and Triggering a Buck Breakdown: An Updated Season 7 Speculation Based on Exactly One Picture Posted by The Props Department and The Voices In My Head"

Okay, so, my Buck will drown in season 7 spec is in its 3rd installment, you can read installment one here, this one has the drowning work as a climax for buddie in a sense, a mid-season or season finale situation, you can read installment number two here, this one is a climax for Buck to break, and now I'm gonna type out a Buck drowning as a season premiere trigger. (You can go here to see all my Buck drowning thoughts)

So, this whole thing hinges on one thing: the fact that the show consistently mirrors Buck and Eddie's personal journeys, with Buck mostly being a few steps behind Eddie. I feel like we collectively got caught up in the way the lightning reminds us of the shooting, and we failed to notice the way the lightning is actually the well. The rain aspect, the night aspect, the team as audience aspect, the volunteering into the rescue that goes wrong over lightning, the way both of them are screaming, the moments of irrational action with the way Buck is trying to dig Eddie by hand and Eddie is trying to pull Buck up to him, the breathing thing with the way Eddie was about to drown and Buck's lungs weren't working, I think even the way Eddie saved himself and the whole concept of the coma dream can work here (here's a set for visuals).

We know Eddie didn't deal with any of his trauma until after the shooting, dude was very just move forward until he couldn't anymore. And one thing is true, you can draw quite a few parallels between the way Buck was acting in season 6 with the way Eddie acts in seasons 3 and 4. Up to the way you can draw direct parallels between Buck and Natalia to Eddie and Ana (here's a set for visuals), or the way he sounds like Eddie did with the just make the best of it, the way Buck is talking in the cemetery really reminds me of what Eddie tells him in kids today when he drops Chris off before the tsunami. And, well, let's face it, Buck hasn't dealt with any strong emotion ever and this man needs to break to move on with his life.

But, sure, how does any of this adds up to Buck drowning? Most of Buck's major traumas/near-death experiences involve water or breathing, the emergency tracheotomy on the first date with Abby, the blood clots in his lung, the tsunami, the well, the warehouse fire, the lightning leading to damage in his lungs (here's a set for visuals) also, Bobby nearly drowned in the plane crash, he got caught with Chris in a tsunami and then Chris falls back into the water, Eddie nearly drowned at the well, Maddie walked into the ocean, I think even the bathtub incident with Jee, creates this pattern of water hurting Buck or people Buck loves. So water is a common trauma factor here.

Why is this important? When you look at the shooting, there are a lot of things that make it as intense as it is: it happens by chance, it's a case of wrong place/wrong time, they're not supposed to be there but they are because Eddie got called there specifically, Buck has to save Eddie alone because they are there with another house and Buck doesn't trust anyone else, and it brings up a previous trauma for Eddie. I also wanna add the fact that, like it or not, Eddie is that attached to what's happening to Charlie because it makes him think of Christopher, at least on some level. So having Buck drown covers the previous trauma thing and it's very easy to make it happen by chance. So let's work out the rest of it, shall we?

Season 6 ends with Bobby and Athena finally going on their honeymoon cruise. I know I'm not the only one sitting here chanting *cruise disaster* because of that, because let's face it when does anything ever go right for anyone on that show. But the props department posted this picture of life vests. Also, one of the writers posted a picture of a script where you can read the word boats. The speculation of something is gonna happen in that cruise writes itself. Add in the fact that people don't know bathena are on the cruise to begin with and you have a GREAT season premiere disaster in your hands. (I don't really wanna bring up Grey's Anatomy here even though a lot of this has me thinking about 3 Grey's episodes, but if you've seen the show, think the ferry boat crash/Meredith drowning arc in season 3)

That means we have a whole ass ocean to drown Buck in while responding to that. Because what's another thing that keeps trying to kill Buck? That's right, city equipment.

Okay, so back to the shooting elements, wrong place/wrong time, they're not really supposed to be there, another crew, previous trauma, no one else they trust around. Not really supposed to be there/got called there directly can be cloudy, but it could just be a "we're going because it's Bobby and Athena's ship". So that's down. Another house, well, a call in that scale would have multiple houses, them getting separated is expected, so that's down too. Previous trauma, Buck getting trapped under something, Buck almost drowning, water, beaches as a whole, all cover that. Wrong place/wrong time, I keep going back to equipment malfunctioning in some way. Maybe they're lowering Buck somewhere and it gets loose, a harness breaking, the oxygen tank stops working, that's something that can happen by chance and create a situation that triggers a past trauma for Buck.

Okay, so we have a lot of elements at play here let's get to the actual vision.

At first, when I saw the life vests, I actually thought about this all happening while they try to save Bobby. They find Bobby, they get Bobby out, Eddie is working on him because he's the one with medical training, it takes him a moment to notice Buck hasn't resurfaced, then he dives back to go get Buck, mostly because that could have some fun implications on the dynamic between the 3, especially if we go to a situation where Buck could've gotten himself out but doesn't, a situation where Buck stops trying, also because I think Buck believes dying for someone he loves is the way to go, so dying for Bobby would be fine with him, but it wouldn't be fine with Bobby or Eddie, and Eddie not dealing with saving Buck's life again could absolutely redirect those feeling towards Bobby because he can't get mad at Buck for dying, so that could create some fun tension.

BUT, if we see Charlie as a surrogate for Chris, to have the situation be triggered by a stranger that reminds Buck of someone he loves, Maddie, Bobby, not Chris because then Eddie would also be irrational in the situation, Eddie is the one that gets reckless when children are involved, could be fun.

So vision: Buck and Eddie are paired doing water rescues or something, they spot someone, that someone brings a more extreme reaction from Buck, I will say he thinks the stranger is Bobby for convenience over the fact that this whole thing is happening on a cruise Bobby is supposed to be in, but it doesn't have to. They go through with the rescue, because again, the thing they went to do is done when Eddie gets shot, something goes wrong, Buck gets pinned down (I don't love the idea of Buck just stopping swimming, I like the idea of something he could get out of if he tried hard enough but he doesn't have it in him to keep struggling, so pinned down it is, also because that brings up the truck bombing), Eddie doesn't notice Buck didn't resurface for a bit (that can also be fun considering the way Eddie is always the last to know, he was the last to see Shannon in the crash, he only found out Buck and Chris were in the tsunami once they were safe, he was the last one to look up at Buck after the lightning, so fun implications all around) just long enough for us to cut back and forth to Buck struggling and Eddie, then cutting to Buck stopping, then Eddie noticing Buck is not there and diving back in. Then we have the fun little aspects of Eddie saving Buck, dragging him out, Buck being unresponsive, desperate cpr, "you're not doing this to me again", Buck finally reacting, sitting up and coughing up water, if we're lucky him dropping back into Eddie and a nice little "I got you, I got you" if we're even luckier maybe some forehead touching or Eddie burying his face on Buck's hair (let Ryan's emotional power out for a spin yk?).

Implication of this for Buck, Eddie, and buddie could be fun. Because you can have Buck spiraling over the fact that almost died again and he was actually okay with it for a while there, kickstarting a breakdown era, because he thought dying was supposed to give him some peace because of Levi and the whole happiness convention thing, and some fun parallels with 5b Eddie. We can have Eddie spiraling over the situation because he had to save Buck again, and Buck is not dealing with it so he's not dealing with it because they don't talk about what it's like being the one doing the saving. And Eddie is already pulling back from Buck, to have this create a real gap between them is easy as hell. And since I'm a "the shooting was Eddie's oh! moment truther" and I'm a believer that Eddie is fully aware of his feelings and just thinks Buck will never feel the same, to throw that energy on Buck would interesting. Just have Buck dealing with having his oh! moment in a very inconvenient moment and with the fact that Eddie is pulling away from him while he spirals.

Do I actually believe any of this is gonna happen? No, no I don't. But I will share the thought on the off chance it does so can get the bragging rights lol.

I will tag @slowlyfoggydestiny because we were talking about this the other day and her inputs helped a lot while I was trying to work out how to make the drowning a trigger, and also because she's been here with me through the whole "let's drown Buck" conversation 🫶.

If you read this I love you 🫶🫶

[fraugwinska]

Chapter 14 - Anachronism

Anachronism (noun) 1. a person, thing, or idea that exists out of its time in history, especially one that happened or existed later than the period being shown

Tags & Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Violence, Murder

Day 1

“I see, okay, cool cool cool... But - when will you be back?” The princess asked, her hair still frazzled from the night. Granted, he had woken her up, but really, as the founder and owner of the Hazbin Hotel, she shouldn't sleep in like that – 6 a.m. wasn't that early when you had business to attend.

“Ah, well, my dear, that's the tricky part – I can't say for sure. Could be a day, could be a week – but there's something urgent that needs to be dealt with. So I regrettably cannot postpone this leave of absence.”

“Hold on, shithead.”, Vaggies voice penetrated his ears, rough and deeper than usual. She joined Charlie at the door, and Alastor smirked at the chagrin in her face. “You're supposed to help the hotel. You have obligations here, as much as I hate it, but we don't run on well wishes.”

Alastor tutted at her, his smile never fading. “Well, what better time to make use of our darling (Y/n)? That's what assistants are for, won't you agree? She is more than capable of taking over my workload until I return.”

Vaggie snarled at him, but Charlie put her hand on her shoulder, watching Alastor with a worrisome expression. “Well, I suppose she could, but even so, what about safety? Alastor, if the hotel is in trouble we are...”

“...not without protection. I'll know when things get out of control here, and shall return if my assistance is needed. Does that sound fair?”

The princess and her pet exchanged looks, he could practically hear their wheels turning. Aggravating, those two. He tapped his foot, impatiently.

“Okay then... well, yeah. I guess that works for...”, the blonde girl said at last, slowly and with a lingering hesitancy, but it was enough for him.

“Wonderful, now, I'll take my leave, let you ladies freshen up in peace. Ta-ta!”

He didn't give them time for a retort, his urgency driving him to travel with his shadows rather than by foot. He needed to get away, the sooner the better.

He needed to get a grip.

And that wasn't going to happen around her.

He only stopped when he felt the freezing air of the outskirts of the pride ring. Shadow travel was fast, insanely fast, but traveling this far exhausted even him. When he finally materialized, he was greeted by the peaceful darkness of the void.

The void.

The great nothingness.

Alastor's first memories of hell started with the void, the constant, roaring humm that filled the air after he fell. He didn't know why he returned to the very place he'd begun his afterlife, but he had learned to not question his instincts. At least until some time ago. He stared at the ever growing darkness and felt the pull. No sinner or hellborn had managed to venture into the void, the barrier around the seven rings of hell. Alastor was sure it wasn't possible either way, but his first day in hell were spent listening to it's call while he reformed his body and explored the new, wide set limits of his power. This place felt like an old friend, a retreat where he could clear his mind and level himself, just like the day he died and woke up here.

Alastor had always prided himself to be one of the rare few sinners who landed at the void. Normally, as he learned through his decades in hell, sinners would fall close to bigger cities, near civilization, closer to their peers. He knew that Zestial, one of the more ancient overlords and acquaintance of his also fell at the outskirts of the ring. He normally hated sharing a trait he deemed special, but he respected Zestial too much to be offended.

Now he had time and space to really think. The hotel was too full, full of noisy occupants, full of pestering ears, full of her scent and her confusing energy. He had stayed all through the night, hypnotized by the radiation of her energy she still emitted, even in slumber. And he had struggled, more than he had anticipated, to peel himself from her room came morning, to detach his gaze from her sleeping face, with that unholy smile that he was sole owner of still on slightly parted lips.

The void called him, and he greedily listened to it, using the sounds of the emptiness to calm his accelerating beating heart.

Day 2

He hated that he felt. He hated the fragility of them, their infuriatingly weakening effects they had on the mind. His back started to hurt, so he conjured himself a seat, a round and soft one.

There were feelings he accepted, even welcomed. Joy, for example, in the right context and circumstances, was a rather gratifying feeling he often embraced when he slaughtered his victims. Or danced to a good tune, which happened less than the other. Anger, controlled and in moderation was also useful.

But then there were the crippling ones he detested. Sadness was one of them. He despised the way it made the chest hurt and the mood sink, how it made him long for past days, the days where his mother was alive. But that was something he had always been able to control, trained himself to masterfully surpress to the point where he didn't even have to try.

And the new one he couldn't get a hold on. That strange, new feeling that left him weak, confused and vulnerable, started by a mere touch of gray skin.

Desire. For the first time in his life he felt the need to want somebody . He wanted , and that want drove him to actions he wasn't used to, and the more he got, the more he desired, an endless circle, a cycle he was trapped in. Desire was an abhorrent child of love. Ha. Love. The only love he had ever needed died just months before he became of age. Never again did he feel something like it, nor did he want to. Love was a liability. It easily, naively opened doors that should better remain locked for not to fall prey to predators. And Alastor surely wasn't prey .

But now, there it was. Desire. Infecting him like a common, disgusting virus with no antidote. He desired her. He had to make this conclusion, as much as he wanted to deny it. He just didn't know if he desired her power, or something more.

Day 3

Alastor was hungry. But no food would satiate this feeling of craving. He craved her. No. No, he reminded himself. That was preposterous. He didn't crave her, he hungered for her energy. That one, tiny taste of her power had left him wanting more, had him addicted like the most potent drug. His shadows felt the yearning too, they were restless and swirled agitated around him. Especially one. He had Ozul bound, and his shade let him know how much he hated it. Relentlessly he tugged and pulled and twisted himself, but he knew without Alastor's permission, he wasn't going anywhere. He had become bold, that one. Which was truly unfortunate, since he was the oldest of his shadow companions. The original specter.

He hasn't slept at all. The coolness a refreshing chance from the heat of the city and settling down in his bones. Still, he had yet to have a revelation – his mind fought with him. Hunger fought with him. A longing he needed to be for power, and not... trivialities. Another strong tug made him growl.

“Stop it this instant, you fool.”

Ozul hissed at him. He hissed. Alastor's fury was instant and intense as he forced him back with a yank. It whined and struggled against his grasp.

“m̵̳͋̀ĩ̷̻s̸̡̻͊͘s̵̝̏ ̵̤̻͋̌g̴̢͍͐e̸͎̿̎m̴̖̆.̶̨̅̿ ̸̟̩́̉w̸̬̏à̷̼̎n̸̡͉̈́͝t̷̫̟̂͝ ̷͔͎̄̿t̷̥͑ơ̸̡ ̸̺̤́s̸̛͚͖è̷̳̯͑è̶͖͎ ̸͙̭̀g̴̠͖͌ė̷͈̯m̶̭̭͑.̷̦̐” (miss gem. want to see gem)

“You are acting like an insolent child.”

“y̷̼̓o̸̮̎u̸̯̺͂͂ ̴̘̠̃̎m̸̘͕̅ḭ̴̺̎s̸͚̙̐s̷̬͊ ̷͍͕̈g̴̦̑̊e̴̼̣̽m̶̙̺͑̽.̵̳̿ ̴͙͐̓y̷̢͕̏o̶̲̮͝ủ̴̝ ̵͛̀͜m̴̮̖̐e̴͉̋ ̸̝͇̉̂s̵̠̄ǎ̸̞͕̏m̴̲̪̍̽ȇ̷̛ͅ” (you miss gem. you me same.)

His antlers sprouted like weed as his body exploded with crushing cracks and hurtful rips. The other shadows roared in pain and anxiety, swirling around the feet of their master.

“ɨ ɖօռ'ȶ ʍɨֆֆ ǟռʏȶɦɨռɢ, ɨ ǟʍ ʏօʊʀ ʍǟֆȶɛʀ ʏօʊ աօʀȶɦʟɛֆֆ, աɛǟӄ, ɖɨֆօɮɛɖɨɛռȶ...”(I DON'T MISS ANYTHING; I AM YOUR MASTER YOU WORTHLESS; WEAK; DISOBEDIENT...)

In his rage, he slashed at his own shadow, tearing the ground with every word he spat. Ozul dodged his claws, his teal maw and eyes glowing brightly at him in a grimace of pity. He didn't miss that woman. She was nothing more than a servant. Just another soul he owned. A chip in the long game. A tool to be used. To be exploited. Disposable.

His clawing stopped, his arms heavy and aching. Ozul stared at him, and he stared back.

Disposable.

That word tasted sour and rancid on his tongue. He took heavy breaths, taking in the stinging pain of his elongated limbs that he grew far too quickly.

Disposable.

What would he do if he harnessed her power and she would vanish? Her spirit broken? Her will cease to exist? Why does it even matter? Why does he care? Does he care? Ozul slithered to him, slowly, carefully. Alastor let him creep up his arm and onto his shoulders. He closed his eyes and let visions of Ozul play on his mind. He saw her, dutifully reading what he provided her, sighing now and again. He saw her watching out the window, waving him goodbye as he left his mansion for some errand. He saw her at his doorstep in the middle of the night, a cup of warm milk in hand meant for him. He saw her cold, disgusted glare at Vox's incredulous remarks about him. He saw her hand on his cheek, golden eyes fixed on his as she managed to snap him out of his transformation.

Disposable.

What a wretched word.

Day 4

For the first time since being the radio demon, Alastor truly felt cold. The edges of hell lacked the heat humans so foolishly attributed to the place of eternal damnation. Not that hell wasn't warm. It had it's seasons, and temperatures rarely fell so much as to truly give it's inhabitants a chill.

But he felt freezing. He had thought it would be comforting. Alastor was always warm, like an old cathedral radio that ran for too long, emitting a steady heat, whether he was wearing a coat, a shirt, or nothing at all. But the cold had crept into his innermost being, numbing his body to the point where it hurt to move. But it did not numb his mind. The hum of the void felt no longer serene, but noisy and disturbing. He stared into the void for hours without finishing a thought before the next one began. He felt trapped in his own train of thoughts. A prisoner of his feelings he didn't want. He felt he was failing to manage himself like he used to. And most of all, Alastor felt lonely.

His legs cracked from lack of usage as he stood up. Rosie. He needed to see Rosie. He couldn't be seen like this, by anyone, so he shadowtraveled again, his unstable state making him stumble into a shelf in Rosie's backrooms. He pulled himself upright and sent a shade to get her. Mere seconds later, she was storming through the door.

“What in the world?! Alastor, what happened? You are cold as ice!”

The demoness caught him by his arms, holding his deteriorated form upright.

“I need your help, my friend.”

Rosie only nodded, guiding him to the nearest chair.

“Of course, my dear.”

Day 5

Alastor slept for more than 16 hours. A testament of his friendship with Rosie, that he was able to leave himself this vilnerable in her care. His sleep, however, had been haunted, blurring the lines between reality and fiction, depicting scenes of his life and intertwining them with mementos of her, phasing fast in between horrific, enigmatic and blissfull.

He awoke with a raging headache, the morning sun already turning into full bloom of a mid-day heat. Apparently Rosie had managed to drag him into her personal suite above her emporium, resting him on her biggest chippendale settee. The blanket he was draped in was made out of finest cream cashmere and smelled new and unused. His darling friend really knew him well.

“Oh my stars, you're awake! I almost thought you'd gone into hibernation.”

Rosie entered the room, a tray with a teapot and two cups in her hands. Alastor recognized the green and gold pattern – it was the china he had bought her after his last visit. He quickly sat up, straightening his jacket (which Rosie hadn't removed and he was grateful for).

"I apologize for my unseemly display yesterday, my dearest Rosie.” He waved away the blanket, bringing it up just enough to return his coat to it's intended fold. She took place in a matching seat across from him, her flowing dress and skirts billowing with every movement, and offered him a cup, filling it with deep brown liquid.

He was too exhausted to even ask for a cup of coffee - he somehow had a feeling it wouldn't taste right anyway. But the tea smelled spiced and earthy, which was unusual for his companion, so he decided to trust her judgment and drink it.

They sipped their tea in quietude, but he knew that, just like himself, she had the need to break the silence. He also knew she was carefully, consideringly waiting for him to speak. A feat only she possessed to get out of him things he would otherwise choose to remain untold.

Rosie was another exception, very similar to her . Rosie was his oldest friend, a confidant he didn't expect to have when he became an overlord. Rosie had gained his trust, not by the usual tit-for-tat hellish society loved to practice, but by proving him time and time again, from te very beginning, that she didn't feel the need to use him for anything, instead just enjoying his presence, no strings attached, so to say.

So Alastor spoke, and started to tell his story.

He told her about the night in the Lava lounge, sparing no detail, describing the way she dealt with Vox, the satisfaction he felt watching her on stage. He told her about his percieved solution of her puzzle, what he deducted to be the answer – that she had fallen for him, and his intent to use it to his advantage. He knew she would disapprove of the predicament of invading (Y/n)'s privacy, more so catching her in one of most private moments, but he needed to paint the full picture. He told her about the jeweled copy, how he thought that it would act like a container of her energy just to be proven wrong. That instead, it had guided him to her, and at his touch she had spilled with flowing power like a freshly broken spring, flooding him with it to the point of loosing control over his thoughts and body. How she, miraculously, brought him back through carefully chosen words. That he fled to relieve himself of the overpowering force he was still filled with. How he found himself regretful of the way he harmed her and returned to apologize. About how she instead tried to take the blame, to monopolize the guilt and how he refused her. He told Rosie about her wish for him to keep her company, and that he took her plea to stay the whole night, only to leave before she awoke to get space to sort this whole mess out. When he finally recounted the past four days at the void, the tea in his cup was cold and stale.

Rosie had listened quietly, not once attempting to interject. The tick-tock of the mounted wall clock in the corner of the room marked the ending of an age until she set her teacup down. Alastor swallowed dry, waiting for her assessment. A deep, measured breath left her nose and she leaned back in her seat, her expression seemingly in deep contemplation.

Something else played in those coal dark eyes, and Alastor didn't like it one bit. Was that pity? Was it condescention? Rosie wasn't prone to neither.

“Oh, Alastor...”, she started, shaking her head. “For all the astuteness, intelligence and eloquence you possess, you truly can be a righteous blockhead.”

Alastor's eye twitched.

“While I cannot deny that it seems the little dove has indeed feelings for you – you gravely misinterpreted my little puzzle. I must say, I now come to regret not being any clearer, I feel I took part in the way things escalated to this. “, she sighed with a frown. Then, she looked directly at him, a small, crooked smile on her lips. “But what's done is done. Let's try it again, my dear, and this time, stop denying yourself the path to the true answer – you are better than that. Think, Alastor. Think about what you've told me before answering: What is the protective lie, and what the obvious truth?”

Alastor stared at her.

He didn't want to say it. He didn't want to think it. He didn't want to accept it.

Rosie's smile widened, reading him like a well-known book. The protective lie: That she was just like any other soul he owned. The obvious truth: That she wasn't the only one who fell victim to forbidden feelings.

Day 6

He knew he had to return. The last day was spent in Rosie's company. He knew she had been holding back a lot of things she wanted to say, for the sake of him coming to terms with his uncomfortable new insights. Instead, she gave him space to initiate conversation when he decided to, making herself busy in her apartment. She only told him she closed the shop for the day, and to not worry about missing business, since she could do what the hell she wanted.

In the evening, after a fabulous meal Rosie cooked (serving finest intestines in a hearty stew), she broke her self-imposed silence to ask him

“I don't want to pry, sweetheart, but what do you plan to do?”

Alastor dabbed his mouth with a napkin, removing the last remnants of the tasty demon flesh.

“In all honesty, Rosie, I am at odds.”

Rosie tilted her head at him, her face that of incredulity. “Really, what would be the harm in entertaining the idea that you are fond of a beautiful, talented, devoted girl?”

He remained silent, his wide smile fading into a barely curved line.

“You know as well as I do I am these things are foreign to me, impossible even.”

“And yet you feel something for this girl. You may have never for another, but now, for her, you do, Alastor. Would a parched man in a desert deny himself of drinking when he finds an Oasis?”

Alastor sighed. Rosie was nothing but a true romantic at heart, but he? The concept of fondness, of courting and romance had always abstract and revolting to him. Yes, he felt things for her, but they could be fleeting, a lapse in judgment, a loss of control he was deeply uneasy to sacrifice.

She had dropped the issue, but the question still hung between them as she went to bed.

Now it was morning, and he prepared himself to face her again. That night he decided to keep his distance, to slowly detach himself from the need he felt when it came to her. Knowing her compliance and steadfast determination to please him, she wouldn't question or fight him if he'd dismiss what happened without much explanation.

When he told Rosie, she gave him a disapproving look, sadness in her voice as she told him that he was  a fool and on his best way to hurt her favorite dove deeply. He knew she was right, of course, but he needed to do what he deemed best. It was better this way.

So, he bid her farewell, this time walking the distance from Cannibal Town back to the hotel. He heard Ozul whine and fizz in apparent discontent, but he too, had to accept his masters decision.

He entered the hotel quietly, his cat companion dozing at the bar. What luck, he thought, glad to not be stopped by rude comments or displeasured banter. He made long strides, taking the stairs up to his radio tower. He felt the need for soothing blues. On the third flight of stairs, he almost crashed into Angel Dust who rounded the corner from the other side. The spider jumped at the sight of him, clutching his over-exaggerated breast in overly dramatic shock.

“Jesus Christ on a stick, Al!” Alastor sneered at the cursing demon. “Fuck, popping up like the worlds most haunted jack-in-the-box. 'Ya almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Why, my effeminate fellow, that would only mean you'd have a heart in the first place, how joyous that would be?” He grinned widely at the scowling expression his little remark resulted in. “I'd love to stay and chit-chat, but I have a lot to catch up with.”

He started walking past him, when he heard Angel's muttered response.

“Not much to catch up with, buckboy, since Rocky had to shoulder all your fucking work like the boss-bitch she is. You betta make sure 'ya thank her on 'ya knees.”

He didn't reply, keeping his pace. Yet, he couldn't help but notice how quickly his smile threatened to slip with the reminder of his gem's adversities.

... He had made himself comfortable on the extravagant sofa, pouring himself another glass of whiskey and downing it without the usual enjoyment and moderation. He still felt tense, and the alcohol wasn't working in taking the edge off. A few hours back and he still was cooped up in his broadcasting room, unsure on how to proceed. He was about to pour his third glass when he heard three knocks on the hatch.

Three slightly angry knocks.

He moved to open the door to maybe Vaggie, who always had an excuse to be agitated with him, readying to tell her off, when the faint smell hit him.

Not Vaggie. It was her.

He took a deep breath. Showtime.

With nimble fingers he pulled the hatch open, revealing his beautiful assistant looking up to him with burning eyes like two golden suns. His darling girl. His precious gem.

"Ah, hello, kitten! You look absolutely dashing this morning."

<< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter >>

[adiduck]

oh you've definitely convinced me about saintspy, I shall report back when I've watched The Saint! what other Tom Cruise or Val Kilmer movies would you recommend? I've seen Minority Report, Edge of Tomorrow, Knight and Day, Interview with the Vampire, Jerry Maguire and the MI movies for Tom Cruise but only Batman Forever and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang for Val Kilmer, I want to expand my range :D

Oh, man. This is a good question!

Well, for TC, @oathkeeperoxas has a great review of every Tom Cruise movie here that I recommend!

For VK, though, we will have to be a bit more specific, since I don't know of a good review summary for him ;) The man has made MANY movies and... well, some are better than others LOL It's often not HIS fault, he's always so so good, but you know. Not all of them are great!

I'm going to say that the movies I recommend for VK are as follows, in no particular order:

Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick (I know this is a big surprise from me; I just like these movies)

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (you know)

Tombstone (I'm told that a lot of my love for this movie is nostalgia as an American who likes Westerns, and frankly I'm okay with that. This is a Good Western)

Thunderheart (a product of its time, but a lot of good movie making happened here! recommend, even knowing that if it were made today these topics would be dealt with differently)

Real Genius (I love this movie, it's SO SO fun)

The Saint (you want a wacky 90s action movie with a strong cast and interesting characters? Right this way!)

Batman Forever (he's so pretty in this, and I am willing to accept a lot of sins as a result LOL)

That'll get you a good start, Anon! I hope you enjoy! And if anyone else has any suggestions, feel free to pile on!

[butchtwelfthdoctor]

i got peer reviewed on this post by @pikechris (sorry for the tag hope you dont mind) but still had way more thoughts hehe anyways i was gonna leave tags but it got pretty long sooo those tags and the rest of my Thoughts under the cut cos damn this did get really really long

i looked in the replies of that post & people you're not getting it he didnt kiss rory with romantic feeling behind rory was just there and eleven got excited about something else and rory visibly looks weirded out afterwards. it was practically eleven kissing as stimming. like when he kissed jenny. it wasnt out of romantic feelings at all he knows madame vastra would kill him & he isnt interested he was just happy to be able to move after the crimson horror thingy. kissing rory was also played as a joke it was a funny haha yknow. i also dont remember eleven kissing the james corden character but like whatever i cant imagine that being meaningful in any way either.

OH in the same way that nardole having a crush on twelve (canon btw nardole practically says as much is played as a joke. like with the post i mention above, like thats played as a joke because can you imagine the cool very beautiful twelfth doctor having romantic or sexual feelings towards nardole, who is literally, as missy puts it, comic relief? i dont think that its queer is a part of that but idk it might be.

but in any case. the doctor hasnt kissed or been kissed by a man with romantic intent onscreen since 2005. we COULD have had a thirteen and yaz kiss but we didnt which is i think why? people forget? about them? doctor was confimred queer she had lesbian attraction but nothing really. happened about it. so yeah. also apparently a lot of people didnt watch thirteen like cmonnnnnnnnnnn it really isnt as bad as people make it out to be.

twelve kissed missy who was probably the only person he would have kissed at that point. he's horrified when she kisses him before he knows who she is but then the very next episode he kisses her in a... if not exactly romantic a very emotionally charged way. and she knows that. we dont see them kiss again even as their relationship grows more and more romantically inclined (which i actually support any amount of canon thoschei conventional romance would probably be. bad and kill the appeal immediately) because like i said. she turns every dead body on earth into a cyberman then lies about where gallifrey is then fakes her own death then tries to get the doctor to kill clara then he leaves her on skaro iirc then he is supposed to kill her but doesnt and instead locks her in a vault for ~70 years but its okay cos they have takeaway food in there together sometimes. and then world enough and time / the doctor falls happens which i cant even start talking about or i'll never stop & thirteen was 1) aroace and 2) too emotionally repressed to even get close to kissing Anyone, let alone the master after all the timeless child stuff, even though she probably?? wanted to kiss yaz?? a bit??? at least?? yaz wanted to kiss her but there was too much emotional repression going on on both sides but mainly the doctor Which Brings Me To My Point.

Fifteen is the most, shall we say, flirty doctor we've had for a while, and Ncuti is also the first openly queer actor to play the doctor on tv, and while of course everyone on tumblr is Very familiar with all of the ways the doctor is queer (and neurodivergent) without any need for the show to specifically say so, it is really really great that a) the doctor is played by a gay actor b) there are more queer characters and c) we got an actual episode where The Doctor Is Gay With A Man. especially after the. somewhat odd. way yaz & thirteen's relationship was dealt with at the end of thirteen's run, which even though was a queer relationship was like....... not really. shown. they just talked about it. and had icecream. okayyy i guesssssssssss

BUt NOW fifteen gets an entire episode where his mutual attraction to another male character (assuming the doctor is actually a man, pretty sure i read somewhere Ncuti was he/they-ing the doctor but he might have meant the doctor in general, not just fifteen) is a Main Focus of the episode. its the main tension, the main drama, the main interest - you pretty much know from the 'okay we'll teleport the chuldur away' that thats whats going to happen, and i for one went 'oh my god rouge is going to get teleported' from the moment the doctor fixed it to carry six. the Main Focus is now their flirting, their dynamic, the way Those Two Interact, their almost kiss (which the doctor was so ready to duck out of as soon at the thing beeped, but you can tell by the look on rouge's face that he's for sure trying that again later). the doctor showing actual episode-arc spanning romantic interest in a character, let alone a specifically queer one... that doesnt happen a lot.

(the girl in the fireplace has a lot of superficial similarities, though you could also argue that madame de pompadour was far more romantically into ten than he was into her. thirteen's characteristically very awkward attempt at flirting towards yaz in the sea devils special didnt have nearly as much focus on it)

but really the point is the doctor was kissed! for the first time on tv in ten years!!!! and it was a queer kiss!! and that romance was The Major Part of the episode!! the doctor doctorwho was gay kissing a man on out television screens after a genuinely quite good build up!!!!!!!!!!! it would of of course be amazing if rouge makes another appearance (i think he will, most likely in a later season instead of the next 2 eps), and even better if we had a longer arc of that romance, but we got it!!! actual canonical queer romance for the doctor!! their first canon kiss in like at least a couple hundred years of their life, and while i am an aspec doctor who believer there are 100% time when he feels attraction and this was for sure one if them. and it was really beautiful & emotional & the flirting was fun & rouge was a good character & their dynamic was really good and yay!!!!

[jhuzen]

Me the Waman guy, i love Wamans, happy women's day to all. My Ask would be affectionately asking for M!Reader returning from a mission completely wounded, going to the kitchen, giving a kiss in (Character you feel comfortable writing) and saying he missed her and refusing to let her go

beauty in simplicity [m.reader]

IM SO DANG LATE FOR THE WOMEN’S DAY. BUT BUT HERE IT IS SJAIDMCIWDC. lmao this fic’s process is just me recalling what it’s like to romance the only woman i dated after eating half of the men population because i cannot for the life of me write an m/f in a breeze. good times. ANYWAY. I’M A SIMP FOR THE TRAVELERS. SO I CHOSE LUMINE 😭 except there’s a catch,,, tis abyss lumine <3

𖦹 angst (moderate to heavy), death, fluffy in the end, abyss lumine, fairytale allusions

“Sire, the opposing force have been dealt with.” the Abyss Lector behind you had a hint of somberness in its voice. And even then you can understand why — your current expedition in accordance to the current plan of the Abyss Order did not exactly go off so well. There were vision holders brave enough to fend off you and your comrades.

Though it took their fickle lives away in the end, that did not mean your party suffered some collateral damage. It wasn’t the prettiest battle after all, and as your greatsword stayed planted on the ground littered with gallons of spilled blood from either parties, you can only grieve for your comrades.

“…Okay. Thank you.”

“Shall we get you treated, sire? You’re in quite a bad shape.”

You drew in a deep shaky breath as your long gone adrenaline aided you in feeling the most excruciating pain all over your body. You weren’t a clumsy man on the battlefield, but some of the weaker links had to be protected, and you figured it’s either them or you — and a captain never yields in front of his comrades, nor does he allow them to perish when he’s close by.

But even then you couldn’t find yourself completely able to treat these wounds, allowing them to fester within you like a parasite that gnawed and destroyed your body from the inside out. You’ve had plenty of battle scars already, that much you couldn’t particularly deny — but it’s the sheer fact that today was somehow managed to hit you harder than the most, that there was a blatant realization of the fact that today, you lost many of your men.

You honestly wondered how you can even sleep at night at this point. Your fellowmen, cursed with the eternity of immortality and with you all the same — for centuries you’ve had to witness everything, every death, every betrayal, and every conundrum knock you down.

But you would endure it for her. Your princess. And as her knight, you would do well in not dishonoring her name, you would keep waking up in that accursed morning if it meant you could aid your beloved princess in her mission — even if it meant you had to bear these scars your whole life… until this curse is lifted from you, until you can’t take it anymore.

Your silence was enough to worry the Abyss Lector, you were normally on the move, constantly walking around to check on whoever survived, supervising every little thing, mourning your fallen comrades. But today, you were so quiet, and even the Abyss Lector could barely hear your shallow breathing despite the little distance between the two of you. Concern lingered on your subordinate as you stewed in silence.

“Sire? Shall I carry you to the infirmary?”

Taking one last breath, you shook your head, “No, thank you. Let me bear the wounds that my brethren bled for a little while longer.” Your hand grasped the handle of your greatsword, pulling it out of the ground, with a consistent strength that you could never lose even after the most tiring battles. “It’s the least I could do.”

If your subordinate could openly express himself to you right now, you would’ve seen the way his eyes softened yet gleamed with pride for you. No doubt that the princess choosing you as her champion was not a mistake in the slightest. For the great strength that you bore came with absolute sympathy for the men around you — leading them to victories with your quick-witted strategies and boosting their morales with the glory and valor you emanated.

Truly the princess deserved someone like you.

Slinging the greatsword over the sheath that hung on your back, you finally turned to your subordinate, eyes glinting with determination and persistence like always, “…Alright, let’s get to work. Run me the statistics of all results, I need to see how many survived and how many died, we can base our next counterattack against vision holders from there. Bury the casualties in a grave… as despicable as they are… they still deserve a proper one.”

The Abyss Lector had no problem adhering to your commands as well as everyone else who can still move and do your bidding — and just like that, with the captain up and running again, the Abyss Order was back on its gears, ready to complete the mission.

Out of all the things that happened, you managed to accomplish the mission that was given to you, heading back into the depths of abyss to aid your wounded comrades, still refusing the many help offered to you from your other subordinates. The princess was nowhere to be found, no doubt making some arrangements herself somewhere else. And much after tending to everyone else, you finally found yourself walking back to your own home.

Perhaps there was something relatively odd at the sight of the great captain of the Abyss Order lugging around his greatsword deep in the woods. You should know, considering the fact that the Abyss became your home. But the humanity left in you was enough to convince the larger part of you that was consumed in darkness to retain some form of normalcy, to live like any other human right now, despite being completely ostracized from the society.

Your home was quaint and peaceful, deep enough so that no wandering adventure would stumble upon it. You’ve heard plenty of stories from some others — apparently some of them had the audacity to loot through some villager’s crates and even steal some root crops.

Nevertheless, it was the escape that you sought from your work. You never needed a little abode like this, you were perfectly fine in the depths of abyss, stewing in it, facing any harbinger that might have descended into it and some poor unfortunate soul that stumbled in unknowingly.

But what you didn’t expect was the smoke coming out of that tiny chimney protruding from the roof of your home. And as if there was a switch flipped within you, suddenly you regained your senses and could smell the faint aroma of that familiar herbal tea that you often shared with your beloved princess.

“Ah… she’s home…”

Your pace picked up and entered your home quick, and you were facing the illustrious princess of the abyss — your beloved, the woman you would absolutely die for and only live to ever serve, was there brewing some tea.

Lumine was far into her own world as she basked in the silence of your shared home. Admittedly, she was surprised when she saw that you managed to make enough time to construct a formidable home in the midst of the tasks she delegated on you. And when she was faced with such a place, warmth only managed to spread through, greatly reminding her of her times with her brother.

She had known you far before she woke Aether up, standing in as the personal knight of one of the most prominent noblemen in Khaenri’ah, protecting him and his lonesome self. Many times had she encountered you when she and Dainsleif had to cross blades with you before because of your neurotic employer.

Who would’ve thought that you would end up working under her in the Abyss Order — much less for you to be her most cherished person now other than her brother; with the countless nights she has spent in your arms, limbs entangled with each other and the bedsheets, living through this quiet forest like a carefree couple.

Lumine jolted as she felt a pair of arms snake into her waist, holding her tight. The familiar warmth engulfed her back and she couldn’t help but lean into your tender hold, closing her eyes with a content smile.

Up until she smelled a faint scent of blood — her eyes flew open and looked down to see your arms that embraced her form, your sleeves torn apart and hacked away with dried blood. She grimaced at the sight of your wounds that would no doubt leave yet another mark on your skin.

“Hey…” her soft murmurs reaches your ears and you can feel Lumine’s gentle hands tracing against your forearms, “You didn’t get yourself patched up?”

She never bothered asking if something went south. She’s intuitive, she can infer that beyond your exhaustion, there was somberness in your arrival. And she can only imagine what happened in that assignment that she sent you and your subordinates back on.

She would mourn them for you and with you. They were her comrades too, after all.

You can only stay silent as the bitterness that enclosed your heart gnawed away at your insides like a pest. Your grip around Lumine tightened as flashes of your men dissipating in ashes appear in your mind like a flash of a kamera, drawing in a shaky breath, you can only nuzzle your nose in your beloved’s soft blonde hair, inhaling that familiar scent that never failed to bring you solace.

Lumine pressed herself further into you as she understood your refusal to let go, her hands slithering under yours before bringing them up, leaning down to brush her lips on your wounds into a sweet kiss — it won’t be enough to heal, but it’s enough to make you feel much safer and better.

“Look, the sunset is directly in view of our window,” Lumine calls onto your attention and you were quick to look up from her tufts of hair, your gaze finding itself fixated on the setting sun that peeked through the tiny window of your kitchen. “I believe that’s everyone about to go to sleep with the stars. They’re saying goodbye to their captain.”

A laugh escapes your parched throat, “Don’t make this any sadder, love.”

“I’m not. It’s a resolution,” you can feel her head shift to the side and lean on your shoulder, her eyes glued on your face, “Something that you need.”

You shook your head, “You know me so well.”

“It’d be crime not to after a good five hundred-odd years.” Her laugh tinkled and the pain that you harbored was slowly being alleviated, leaving you completely breathless yet so full of life at the same time. It was why you admired her so much, and why you of all people are willing to go with her until the ends of this god-forsaken world.

“Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up. It’s almost tea time.”

You stilled in your place despite Lumine’s words, staying rooted as you continued to bask in the lovely orange hues that filtered through the windows of your home, head lolling to drop on her shoulder before you pressed a kiss on the side of her neck.

“Just a little while longer.”

“…Until the kettle starts screaming.”

“I can deal with that.”

It’s times like these that can have you forgetting the fact that you weren’t a cursed being, that you weren’t serving under an Order that’s paving a path of vengeance and salvation. It’s as if you were back in Khaenri’ah, back before the cataclysm, back when you first felt your heart thrum against your chest the day you and Lumine clashed blades against each other.

For once, there was peace and tranquility that nestled in your heart.

And even amidst the whistling kettle, that couldn’t stop you from planting a kiss on her forehead, “I missed you, Lumi.”

But even Lumine thought a forehead kiss was a bit too cheap, as she grabbed onto your cheeks pulled your head further down, meeting your lips halfway with a chaste and tender kiss.

“And I, you, my love.”

This is a testament that even fairytales can come true, with the princess and her knight in shining armor finally settling down in a nice home to hold their love and memories with each other.

[msatlantathickdream]

Sunday Jan 8 2023

Greetings! My Luv’s!

This was the last professional “power” shoot that I did with Shanfotografia (IG) December 2022. Alicia a MUA of mine recommended him to me when I started composing a list of photographers that I wanted to work with about a couple years ago,so this was a dream of mine that I brought to life and another thing checked off my bucket list. It was a desire to do a professional sensual/sexy body positivity shoot honoring my body the way it is right now.

I was slightly reluctant doing the shoot not because I had not worked with him...his work speaks for itself. It was not the perfect time for me to shoot. I had so much chaos going on in my life with having my place searched (looking for evidence that I was involving my minor in my adult work) and my property seized by Fulton County PD and dealing with a shitty CPS worker (she called the cops on me for not opening my door on her 1st attempt to speak with me)...all of that bullshit had my life upside down! I had to push myself so hard to do this for ME...so I had to tell myself that I was doing this also, for the women who struggle with owning their sexy and sensuality no matter her size or life phase....I did this shoot for US!

Tomorrow marks 2 months since that incident with the false allegations and my civil rights were shaken up. Things are slightly different for me now, and things are far from okay with me. I am dealing with trauma and fighting daily giving up on what I’ve always wanted to do and be! (But what else am I going to do...go live a life someone else wants me to...and will I be happy doing so...hell no.)

This image is the best reminder I have to keep me in alignment with all things sexy n yummy about me. This pic is the inspiration that I need to keep at it because I do enjoy doing this despite the negative things I’ve dealt with. And folks I got to take it easy when my body says that I need to. ALSO...this shoot is a big message that I OWN my vibe’s, my body, and I get to showcase it and share it how I SEE FIT!!!  I’ll never be ashamed of my art,my creative expressions, and how I make my money (nor the lack of money I don’t make from this) because there is so much power in what I do...even when its not fully appreciated or highly compensated. 

Lastly, people who meet me will always be confused by what I do or how I am (when they aren’t in alignment with me)...and I am perfectly okay with that. I just need heavy constant Divine protection from things and people who don’t mean me well. Along with insight from The Divine...I shall be fine. Because I am Spirit lead and Spirit fed!

Hugs to you,

~Dream~

MsAtlantaThickDream.com

The Love Goddess/Yvette Dream Johnson

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 73 }

the world's smallest violin.

vincent fabron (CHAMBER) x reader

this whole week had to be one of the worst ones of your life.

for starters, on monday you woke up late and got scolded by your boss for your lack of punctuality.

tuesday, you felt the need to dress in your favorite outfit just to feel good about yourself, only for it to be ruined when it began to rain later that afternoon (and of course, you had forgotten to bring an umbrella.)

wednesday you decided to go out drinking with your friends to cheer up and have some fun, only to end up catching a sore throat when the burning sensation refused to go away even after you had stopped taking the various shots at your favorite bar.

cue you having a cold for the rest of the week and calling out sick from work, finally using up the sick days you had accumulated from your job. your throat still burned, making it difficult for you to even eat meals. all you could do was drink some broth and down copious amounts of cold medicine in hopes of relieving your symptoms for even a moment.

it was now sunday, and you had finally gotten over your cold. your throat finally stopped hurting as your voice steadily lost its nasally quality. currently, you were laying in bed, scrolling through your phone while trying not to feel like absolute crap due to how bad your week was. you finish typing out an email to your boss, telling him that you would make it to your shift tomorrow before tossing your phone to the side.

while you were suffering through such a terrible week, your boyfriend of two years was nowhere to be found. and despite how you had already known that he would be on a rather long mission with protocol, his absence still greatly upset you. the things you dealt with this week left you so mentally drained-

"i've seen so many horrors back in my days with working for the french military, mon ange. horrors that i am grateful that you shall never have to go through."

that particular memory of vincent detailing his past life to you makes you curl up even more. you force the tears that once spilled from your eyes to stop, feeling almost silly for crying over something so tiny in comparison to all the things your lover has been through.

with a sigh, you slowly wipe away at your eyes, feeling them become red and swollen from crying.

i must be playing the worlds smallest violin right now. honestly, get a grip.

you were debating whether you should calm down and further comfort yourself with some hot cocoa when your phone begins to ring, alerting you to a call from vincent himself.

you answer it within seconds, your voice breathless when you say his name with a bit of longing, "vincent, honey, hello. i've missed you."

his rich laughter fills your ears, making your cheeks warm just the tiniest bit. "i've missed you, too, mon amour. i just couldn't wait to hear your voice, and i wanted to let you know that i'm on my way home with your favorite takeout."

the tears began to fill your vision once more, causing your voice to come out a bit shaky, "that's great! vince i've had-"

you cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip so as to keep yourself from ranting about your bad week to him. vincent catches the way you had suddenly stopped speaking and asks, "what's wrong, love?"

"ah, it's nothing. please come home safely, okay?" not wanting to cave in, you hang up the call first, heart pounding as your stomach began to twist with anxiety.

there was no way vincent was going to come home and not ask you what was wrong. but truly, you didn't want to burden him with such problems you deemed as tiny inconveniences.

about fifteen minutes later, you see your boyfriend enter your shared home with a huge bag of takeout. he settled the food on the dining room table before bringing you into his arms and pressing a kiss against your temple.

"my, have i missed you. is it me, or have you gotten even lovelier since i had last seen you?"

you roll your eyes and playfully hit at his chest, "don't be ridiculous. i'm dressed in my pajamas and look awful."

"nonsense, mon amour, for you are always beautiful to me." pressing one last kiss against your lips, vincent goes to plate your dinner. when you tried to help, he simply shoos you away, beckoning you to sit as he tells you how much he wants to spoil you due to his absence.

you take a seat and watch with a fondness when he piles on all of your favorite foods, making a heaping plate for you as he places the delicious meal in front of you. with your mouth watering and your appetite returning post-cold, you dig in almost immediately.

"ah, this is so good, i'm so happy to be able to taste things again!"

"to taste again? were you sick?"

vincent's question makes you pause, forcing you to swallow the last bit of food before your anxiety returned. you really didn't want to bother your beloved with stories of your shitty week, knowing he was doing something far more dangerous during his latest mission.

"y-yeah, it was just a cold, but i'm okay now, i promise!" just seeing the concern in his golden brown eyes makes the tears and all of your sadness return at full force. "e-excuse me!"

knowing that vincent was going to chase after you, you run into the bathroom first before locking it. with your back pressed against the door, you begin to softly sob, those negative emotions that built up during the week finally coming to an overflow. you could no longer stop your tears, and when you heard vincent gently knock against the bathroom door, asking if you were okay, did you truly break down.

the sheer amount of tears blurred your vision, and you could feel the buildup of mucus within your nose. fuck, you were actually ugly crying right now and came back to feeling like absolute shit.

"darling, angel, love, please, talk to me. what's wrong?"

his voice was close, and you were certain that vincent was pressing himself against the bathroom door.

with a sniffle, you finally admit to him, "i don't want to tell you."

"well, why not? i want you to tell me because whatever it is, it's making you cry."

you let out another choked sob, "i had a bad week, but they're not big enough to warrant your concern, vince. go on, have dinner without me for a bit, just let me let this all out and i'll be okay again, i promise."

the silence seemed to drag on for what felt like eternity. you figured vincent had taken your advice and already made his way back to the dining room. letting out a sigh of relief, you quickly clean yourself by blowing your nose with some toilet paper and washing your face. when you began to feel somewhat more presentable was the moment you opened the door-

only to be met with a broad chest standing in your way.

"never feel as though your problems are insignificant, mon amour. for if they make you this sad, then it is not insignificant to me." vincent had managed to trap you in his arms, engulfing your form in his embrace. you cling to him with a desperation, greedily breathing in his scent when you broke down once more.

"but my problems, they're so small compared to all the things you've been through."

he lifts your chin to press a kiss against your chapped lips, not minding the salty taste of your tears, "it doesn't matter how big or small your troubles are. what matters is that it's enough to make you lose that smile on your face. i want to share your burden and know what made you so unhappy because i love you."

you could feel your heart become lighter upon hearing his words, finally making you feel better as a genuine smile paints your lips. "thank you, love, for being such an amazing boyfriend."

"nonsense, it my duty to ensure that you are happy. now come." he adjusts his hold on you so that he was now carrying you, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder while he carries you back to the dining room, "you can tell me all about it as we eat dinner together."

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[thefemininemystic]

2024 theme: no excuses

I grew a lot in 2023. Dealt with a lot privately that only God truly knows. It wasn't easy but with constant prayer and consistency, I made it through. I pray 2024 will be a huge transformation for me. Its okay to rest, but I'm honestly ready to do the work. I didn't grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth. I literally had to work hard to get where I needed to be. Even if it's only a little progress each day, that's better than nothing and I'll be satisfied. I pray my plans, goals, and dreams align with God this year. For he is my shepherd and I shall not lack anything if I focus on him. 2024, it's time to get out of my comfort zone and thrive 🧿🦋👑

[aurheatum]

and from your face i shall be hidden.

welcome present (?) for @divinecrest (it's okay. runes already taken the psychic damage. for everyone else warnings for: death obv. grief! badly dealt with grief! body horror based on the chest cavity/heart. the usual mix of consummate lying and religious fervor rhea is known for.)

The fire should anger her more, even if it does not surprise her.

The fire should anger her more, even if it does not surprise her.

She had seen Jeralt’s face when she first forced the babe upon him; the horror as he looked her in the eyes and followed her final order all the same (“take it”).

She hadn’t told him to leave, but he had all the same. Jeralt had made his choice then, and Rhea, turning back to cradle Sitri in her arms, had made hers.

They tell her that the funeral preparations can be made without her, if that is what she wishes. Rhea says nothing. Tells them she is the archbishop and that she will oversee things as she always has. No one contradicts her.

All of the monastery agrees that one tragedy has seemed to follow another with Sitri succumbing to her frailty and now her husband nowhere to be seen. They really had thought of Jeralt as one of them, after all – but those raised outside the church, well, what can one truly expect?

Rhea wants to force them all to stop talking. Stop talking as if they ever knew anything of Sitri. As if they have the right to mourn a soul such as hers. 

She purchases a casket, instead; similar to the ones of the Four Saints it is inlaid with smaller, but no less resplendent gold pleated crests of Seiros on each of its four corners. Rhea has prepared the body for this, repaired the damage again and again just for this moment where she can send Sitri onward into the tapestry of time. 

(Most of the other vessels she had burned under the stars. Each had a shining light named after them now).

She carries her to the Holy Tomb herself, ready to call upon one of her knights to carry the casket out when she is finished but Sitri swaddled against her chest fails to leave her arms

“You cannot,” Rhea pleads before the ghosts of the ten elites and her hundreds of siblings, “you cannot go now. Do not leave me here alone, please!”

(The Church of Seiros says that everything – plant, human, animal has a soul but Rhea has never seen one. This does not mean she does not believe.)

She decides then that she will not send Sitri off into the stars, or lay her here with so many who died in torment; neither will she give Sitri to the ground as if she were just another thing to be broken down by the ravages of age. Rhea will see her perfect, and whole.

The casket goes into the ground a day later but Sitri stays in Abyss.

There were plants that only ever grew in the dark of Abyss – weeds, really, that neither Rhea or Seteth could stop from growing in the cracks of the shadow library but Sitri, enchanted by the faint light they gave off, had loved.

She had loved so much.

Rhea magicks her a field of pampas grass to lay in, grown from the Immaculate One’s blood; it is simple enough to restrain the growth of the field to a single chamber in the underground for unlike the weeds Sitri so loved the grass does not take to the damp and the dark.

It is simple too to place a piece of her own crest stone within the empty cavity of Sitri’s chest; as Rhea has done it many times before (some children of man did not take to her Nabatean blood and so in order to promote the healing of their bodies she had needed to give them something which the Seiros crest could respond to).

She’s done it so many times now, dug her claws into her own heart just to chip away at it for flakes she thinks she could do it in her sleep.

For Sitri she does more. Bringing her regular infusions of blood alongside offerings of freshly plucked lilies and valerian blooms, she arranges them neatly around the palate where she lays and she speaks with her.

She talks to her of how work has piled up again, and what she would not give to have Seteth help her with redoing the library (“you never met, but I think you would have gotten along well”). She tells her with a smile when Seteth returns alongside his sister, and adds with a frown she is not sure how long this time they will stay.

One evening she walks down from her chambers to Sitri’s place in abyss and informs her that the winds of fate have seen fit to bring her children back to Garreg Mach.

“We have needed a military arts professor,” Rhea admits, with some embarrassment, “and Jeralt never could take to that kind of instruction, you know.”

Rhea pauses and admits: “they’ve taken to it very well, though; and the bonds forged with the students, well, it makes me wonder…”

Rhea does not continues the train of thought, merely puts a hand  to Sitri’s face and brushes a strand of hair from her eyes.

“That kindness… I am sure it can only come from you.”

[hapigairu]

Lysithea's parents watching her enable Ionius 2.0 in GW: >:c

:)))

Seriously though, there is so much wrong with this subplot.

First of all, the reasons as to why all of this happens. Claude decides to change Leicester's political system and becomes its first king, meaning that the spirit in which the Alliance was founded has been destroyed. Personally, I could have accepted a slight change that could give the leader of the Alliance full executive powers in wartime in their Constitution (or whatever legal text they have) or just as a new law. You could even have something like this (it's just a quick idea, and I'm no jurist so of course it's not well-written at all): "Art. 1: The leader of the Leicester Alliance shall be provided with all executive powers during wartime so as to not delay any strategic decisions. Art. 2: Upon the return of peaceful times, provided that the Leicester Alliance is victorious, our leader shall be subjected to a vote of approval in which all noble Houses but that of our leader shall participate. Art. 3: Should a majority of noble Houses vote in disfavour of our leader, they shall cede their position to the noble House that shall be appointed by a vote thereafter." Because, yeah, I get that having to debate with the roundtable during a war is far from ideal, but going "that's a nice system you have there... would be a shame if someone changed it completely and gave minor lords even less of a say"... is not okay.

Add to that the fact that these three minor Houses are dealt with in side-maps and never talked about ever again by Claude and his circus because invading the Kingdom from the East on behalf of Edelbulldozer is sooo much more important and interesting /s. We don't even know what happens to them exactly IIRC? Did they "just" take a beating but keep their territories? Were their territories given to another House? Who knows... The only thing that sets Claude above Ionius is that he didn't send Agarthans to these Houses, but... 1) of course, he couldn't because he doesn't know of their existence and 2) that's such a low bar it's basically buried in the ground. And yes, I find it really hard to believe Lysithea's parents would be a-okay with Claude's actions and her own leniency about all this. But they don't have names let alone sprites so who cares. Also, I could understand Lysithea not having too much of an impact in Houses, because of the permadeath option. But in Hopes? Sure, you have permadeath as well, but it works quite differently, right? If, say, Felix dies during a mission, it's game over instead of him disappearing forever, yeah? Why couldn't they do that with Lysithea and have her actively challenge Claude because of what happened to her? Oh, wait. I forgot Hopes was averse to criticising Claude or Edelgard and that GW's appeal was cute girls. My bad.

[leonscape]

Spring Showers Spring Flowers Content Creator Challenge

"Happy Birthday Irene."

Prompt #5: New Beginnings | Check out the event here! Leon x OC (Irene); April 15th is Irene's birthday, so I thought it could be fun to write something (Omg I'm early for once). It probably won't really make sense if you haven't read my Ikepri AU though... Word Count: 1096

A vase of assorted flowers sat on the table. The colorful petals held onto an envelope addressed to Irene. Leon frowned at the sight of the vase. If it wasn’t from him, then who could have sent it? He picks it up and heads over to his room where Irene still laid in bed, slumbering the early morning away. 

“Hey, sweetheart, wake up,” Leon softly called out to the lump on the bed. “There’s flowers here for you.”

“Hmm?”

“Flowers.”

“Mmmh…”

“It’s got an envelope with your name on it. Shall I open it?” 

“Mhmm.”

With her confirmation, Leon opened the envelope and read the card inside. “Happy birthday?”

“Mmm!” she exclaimed. “Is that from Vincent?” 

Leon hummed, trying to keep his emotions in check. He slipped the card back into its envelope and tossed it onto the table. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday?” 

“Because…”

“Because?”

“It’s not mine,” she said and she slipped further under the covers.

He sighed and snuggled up to the lump on the bed. It was quiet as the couple cuddled. Eventually, he pulled down the blanket and smoothed her hair down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. There’s nothing to say,” she answered. 

“You could talk about how you feel?”

“I don’t know how I feel. I can’t imagine how Vincent and her parents must feel. Must be sad, celebrating someone else.” 

“I understand,” he said softly. His fingers brushed her hair out of her face. “If you don’t want to celebrate, then you don’t have to. We could sneak out of the palace if you want?”

Irene shook her head. “They’re going to want to celebrate. And I feel like it’s the right thing to do. It’s for them to celebrate her existence.” 

“Then I’ll go with you. I’ll get you out of there if you feel uncomfortable.”

She smiled and nodded as he continued to play with her hair. 

The couple set out on their journey to the Summerlin family home in the countryside. They sat side by side, leaning against each other with their hands intertwined. Leon broke the silence, “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“A little. I’m just really not looking forward to this.”

Leon squeezed her hand and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be right there with you. All you need to do is say the word, and we’ll be out of there.” 

The carriage came to a stop and the door opened. Leon exited first and extended his hand to help Irene down. The front door opened and Lady Summerlin excitedly greeted them. She bowed to Leon first and then turned to her daughter. “Happy Birthday! It’s been too long!”

“Hello, mother,” Irene greeted, “thank you.”

“Come inside!” She pushed them inside. 

They weren’t even three steps in the door when people emerged from their hiding places and shouted, “Surprise!” in unison. Irene jumped, clearly and visibly spooked. The color drained from her face as the situation finally sank in. Leon stood by her side, unflinching and completely unfazed. 

“What?” Irene’s eyes were wide like deer that caught the scent of danger. Leon led her towards the party in the parlor. 

Family friends greeted them one by one, wishing Irene a happy birthday. Leon stayed with her the whole time, supporting her, almost dragging her from place to place. She blankly stared at people as they spoke but Leon dealt with them instead. 

The night was still young as the guests were led into the dining room. Everyone raised their glasses, toasting to Irene’s health.

“To you,” Leon said. 

“Good. Drink for the both of us.” 

He sipped the champagne along with everyone else. “Wow, that’s really sweet. And fruity.”

The woman sitting next to them, a close family, Lady Lenore interrupted their conversation, “So when are the grandbabies coming?” 

Irene looked offended, so Leon answered, “We’re going to hold off on that for now.” 

“Your childbearing years will be over before you know it,” Lady Lenore said.

“Uh… Right. But that’s not going to be for a long time more,” Leon awkwardly replied. 

After that strange exchange, the night carried on without incident.They ate and drank in honor of Irene’s birthday, even though they didn’t know the truth about her identity. After the night’s festivities concluded, most of the attendees left, others accepted the offer to stay the night. 

It was too far to travel back to the palace so the couple decided it’d be best to stay the night. “We could stay at an inn if you like? No doubt that’s what other people are doing as well,” Leon said. 

“It’s okay. I think they wanted me to stay the night anyways,” Irene said. She sat at the vanity, performing her nightly rituals. 

“Are you okay?” Leon placed his hands on her shoulder, gently squeezing and massaging them. She nodded, looking up at him in the reflection of the mirror. “Are you sure? You can talk about it.”

“I know it’s a day to celebrate one’s birth; the people around you want to celebrate the fact that you exist. But I’m just an imposter. I know it’s not my birthday. That’s what upsets me the most. It’s not mine because mine is on November 3rd, and I remember most of my birthdays from before…”

“I guess that’s the big question. What’s better: remembering and missing it, or not knowing and being plagued with curiosity? But hey, you don’t have to feel guilty about celebrating your birthday. Both birthdays. We can celebrate your existence on both days,” Leon told her as he gently kissed her on the cheek. “April 15th can be for everyone else, and November 3rd can be a day just for us.”

“Our lives are so weird,” Irene said. 

“I like our lives.” Leon smiled.

“Just by chance, we happened to meet and fall in love? That’s one hell of a coincidence,” she said.

“What if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if we were always meant to meet each other?” he questioned.

“Because otherwise a slave and a courtesan would meet?” 

“Well, consider that a past life, this is our new life. Together,” he said. “ It’s our chance at new beginnings whether we were meant to have it or not.”

“Why do you make everything sound like a fairytale?” she laughed, finally for the first time that evening.

“It’s just my charm I guess.” Leon shrugged. “So to new beginnings; never having to be sad or dwelling on the past. I promise, we’ll be happy.”