#looking between the two characters as you've described is like looking at the reflection of the night sky in a muddy puddle

[unofficialadamtaurus]

its me the "never getting over adam" returnee. i plundered all of your au tags and after the adam vs gods au i cant stop thinking abt how rwby handled adam vs. how this light novel i read handled its adam equivalent

[long rant incoming]

i say "equivalent" very broadly bc the situations and worldbuilding are really different, like for one thing its a medieval-ish setting with no civil rights in general + no real avenues for nonviolence + murder is more standard here, but the gist of it is that theres a demographic with significantly higher magical potential than standard humans and the human policy towards them is either 1. forcibly conscript into military or 2. kill on sight

the protag is a human-passing conscript while his foil, who is kinda like the adam of the series, was born in a significantly more hostile environment and has been on the run since childhood. his schtick is attacking places where people like them are imprisoned and slated for execution, wiping entire towns off the map in the process, and if he doesnt get there in time to save his target he wipes the town off the map in retribution anyway

but while like... while no one LIKES the bloodshed that comes with what he does, the narrative is very generous with him bc even the characters that want him dead acknowledge that he is explicitly a product of his circumstances and there aren't really any viable alternatives for him. for the protag maybe but not for him. and the protag similarly acknowledges that while he, personally, is in a position to negotiate for their people to have legal protections, him doing so won't provide immediate salvation to their people getting lynched the way his foil slaughtering his way up to the gallows does

the foil guy also has a "must exterminate inferior humans" schtick, which is examined and broken down as a sad front for a man whos resigned himself to someday dying in the line of fire without being able to create lasting change for his people.

anyways sometimes i just look at him and then i look at adam and then i look back at him.

[rant end]

also his unique magic is basically just moonslice.

AND ALSO. THE REASON THE ADAM VS GODS AU THING REMINDED ME OF HIM.

in the worldbuilding!!! its actually revealed later that his people were created as part of a powerplay between gods!!! and meant to suffer at the hands of humans!!! however we never get to see his reaction to this because his entire narrative arc got dropped in favor of a romance subplot. which is especially a shame because he IS religious

DROP THE NAME OF THE EQUIVALENT

That worldbuilding actually sounds sick as hell, especially that reveal. But fucking hell why do the romance subplots always shoot massive character development opportunities right in the face 😩

[ellalalala]

A semi-long rant about Dottore's implied self-hatred, loneliness and inner struggles

I am, like many others, endlessly fascinated by Dottore, which means that I've been sucking the game dry for any Dottore content I can find; I've watched the dialogue between him and Nahida numerous times, read the "Zandik's Legacy" notes over and over and even the description of the "Wise Doctor's Pinion" from the Pale Flame artifact set. So much has already been said about him, but I'd like to offer my own two cents about an aspect of his character that is often ignored in favor of his villainy: Dottore's inner struggles.

I'll recount everything that I've gathered and tell you of my interpretation of Dottore's character.

To start, one thing that I never see people mention is a line from Nahida's retelling of the Tatarasuna incident. In the very beginning of the cutscene, we see a monster covered in light blue fur (obviously Dottore) who Nahida describes in a very interesting way. She says:

"Once in a while, the monster would take off its fox fur at night, and lament to itself as it gazed at its reflection in the water: "I am a monstrosity, yet they are too foolish to see it. I pity them."

Of course, it's easy to say that this is just a fairy tale Nahida created to preserve Scaramouche's memories and that this could've been made up - which is only half true! We must remember that Nahida has seen Dottore's consciousness. She already knew of the arguments between his Segments when Dottore confronted her to take the Electro and Dendro gnoses. Why do I bring this specific line up, though?

Because this line outright tells us that: 1) Dottore spent sleepless nights in Tatarasuna reflecting on himself; 2) That he, perhaps sincerely, pitied the people of Tatarasuna for not seeing past his facade.

I also think that the use of the word 'lament' is very interesting. To lament means to express sorrow and regret for something. I would think that this implies Dottore feeling remorseful for not just who he was, but what he would do to Tatarasuna. To provide further proof, I think it is important to look at the expression on the furry monster's face (as Nahida portrays it) when it laments to itself:

(What a cute little thing.)

It looks a bit... upset, doesn't it? Like it is mad at itself as it gazes into the water. This expression, combined with his thoughts and the use of the word 'lament' gives us a clear sign that many ignored: Dottore isn't as shallow of a villain as we thought.

Later in the cutscene, Nahida says:

"But the monster soon found solace when another came to live among the foxes who was not their kin: a kitten, carved from the wood of a white tree, who had been abandoned by the humans."

And in that moment, we see a wide-eyed little monster gazing at the kitten:

(Feels really silly to use this as an example but you've gotta trust the process)

Here, Dottore found someone like himself. An outcast, a creature that did not quite fit in with the ordinary humans - someone who could understand Dottore's loneliness and ostracization. After getting chased out of his hometown for his blasphemous ideas, after getting expelled from the Akademiya and possibly exiled to Aaru Village for his heretical views - Dottore had finally found someone to whom he could say: "See? They will never accept us. It is you and I against them, for they will never understand us."

What person wouldn't seek companionship, after all?

But things didn't turn out the way Dottore expected them to. Unlike Dottore, Scaramouche didn't need to hide his true identity in order to be accepted by the people of Tatarasuna. Thus, the following happened:

"Furious at this happy resolution, the monster lit a fire on the mountain. The terrified animals panicked as the fire spread..."

... and we know the rest. What matters is this: Dottore was angry and jealous of Scaramouche. Exiled from his hometown, rejected by his peers, insulted and looked down upon just for wanting to destroy the imbalance between Man and God - and along comes a puppet, a creation of the Raiden Shogun, who receives acceptance and guidance from the people of Tatarasuna. Not just that, but the only creature who could share Dottore's loneliness is whisked away from him, proving once again that Dottore will never know what it means to have a true companion.

Thus he tricked Scaramouche into believing that Niwa had betrayed them, had him join the Fatui and later used him as the blueprint for the creation of his Segments. Dottore basically ruined Scaramouche's life out of bitter jealousy.

That should be it about Tatarasuna for now. What I'd like to focus on next is the conversation between Dottore and Nahida in the 3.2 Archon Quest.

There are a few lines that interest me, so I'll go over them one by one.

Dottore uses a lot of big words to sound like he's saying something profound when in reality he's saying nothing at all (a nice callback to his Commedia Dell'arte counterpart), but there is one thing that both he and Nahida place great emphasis on: the fact that Dottore, smart as he is, cannot make peace with himself.

First to say it is Dottore. After asking Nahida for her opinion on his Segments, he says:

"Indeed. It's difficult for humans... to make peace with themselves, not to mention oneself from a different period."

The line still feels out of place. It sounds as if he is musing to himself.

Again, we get a line about his Segments, after Nahida asked him to erase them:

"You were observing me, and that's how you know I've long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments."

I think it's safe to assume that the arguing is a metaphor for his struggle of self-acceptance. It seems every Segment has something to say to the others, but more on that later.

Nahida uses Dottore's own words against him:

"Like you said, it's difficult to make peace with yourself. Being as smart as you are, have you managed to do that?"

It's important to note that Dottore doesn't answer that question, but even without that, it's obvious to us, the players - of course Dottore hasn't managed to do that.

Whenever Nahida questions the relationship between his Segments, Dottore easily changes the subject. For example:

"Is the relationship between all the versions of you really that bad?"

"I don't think there's any need to dwell on that. The surplus versions of me can be exchanged for a Gnosis. Do you think anyone can offer themselves at a higher price?"

His Segments all argue constantly. When considered that they are replicas of Dottore at different stages of his life, this takes on an entirely new meaning - beyond his facade, Dottore is a man who can barely make out who he is.

Consider this also: in "A Winter Night's Lazzo", Columbina tells him, "You're looking very young today, Doctor."

To which Dottore replies, "You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment."

A piece of dialogue that had been brushed off by many, myself included - until I realized what this might imply. Dottore finds Columbina's comment insulting because he hates who he is. He hates the younger versions of himself because they represent a Dottore who didn't have the knowledge he has at this current stage of his life. They weren't as smart, as knowledgeable. But that's not really the full extent of it, of course.

Dottore was never fully accepted by anyone, this we have established. In the Akademiya, the students called him a 'madman', a 'monster' (as said in the Wise Doctor's Pinion). When we meet him in the 3.1 Archon Quest, he is referred to as 'The Outcast'. He is always being alienated, but could we assume that he just accepted this rejection and decided to embrace the titles people had thrown at him? This is just... very bold speculation, of course. It is impossible to deny that Dottore didn't always naturally stand out due to his heretical views, but I think it's worth considering that he could have just chosen to be the monster people thought of him as. After all, in the confrontation between him and Niwa, Dottore tells Niwa to think of him as a monster and a demon (for a reason that was... meant to be comforting? Not very important right now).

Consider also how different all the Segments sounded when they found out that they were being erased. All of the voices, along with their manner of speech, varied greatly; I interpreted this as proof of the many masks Dottore has worn over the course of his life. Dottore abandoned whatever humanity he had and decided to embrace the mask of a monster, constantly reinventing himself because he isn't secure in his identity - perhaps he doesn't have one at all. He is a scholar, a Harbinger, a researcher - but without those titles, what is left? What is he left with when he sheds those facades? The constant dodging of Nahida's questions about his Segments, the arguments and the worries of said Segments, the introspection in the cutscene about the Tatarasuna incident - indeed, Dottore is a man filled with self-hatred. A lonely outcast who has never known the comfort of kinship. A monster who swallowed his loneliness and dedicated his life to research.

That should be it, I suppose. My brain is fried and if I remember anything that I might have missed, I'll add that info later.

I want to mention one thing: this doesn't mean Dottore is a misunderstood good guy - doesn't take a genius to know that that is not true. Dottore has no regard for human life (which is ironic, considering how he believes humans have great potential and he wants them to be equal with the Gods). He has hurt so many and I'm sure he will continue to do so. He is evil, but it should be noted that he was once just an ordinary human, too. There must be an explanation for why he is the way he is. It's easy to paint him as just a monster because damn he's good at what he does; but I like to think that there is a layer to him that we just haven't fully seen yet. I'm excited to find out more about him when Snezhnaya gets released in like 2 years... ha. If you've read this far, thank you a lot! Curious to know what you guys think. I love Dottore

[sugar-grigri]

Hope your family is better soon !! Glad you've been taking a step back. If you ever feel like it I'd be interested in hearing any thoughts you have on yoshiden as a ship cause I've unfortunately only ever seen some questionable content but I wanna know what others see there and with your interpretations of the characters I'm really curious. Sorry I feel like that was an unnecessarily long sentence. (Also this is only if you want to!!)

Why Yoshiden has become a problem when it's such a lovable ship

it's not an analysis, it's really a question of personal taste, so if the question of ships gets on your nerves, or bores you, don't read this post! I'm a multi-shipper, so don't go to war either!

It's quite simple really, why fans have trouble with this ship, whether it's a problem of personal taste (ships are first and foremost a matter of taste), the way Denji's character is interpreted and his relationship with men (seeing him only as a hetero character), or the way Yoshida is interpreted.

Yoshida poses problems in general, and as I've said several times here, because he's a character that's hard to get to grips with. Not because he's badly written, but because he's brilliantly written; I like to describe him as an ink blot disturbing the reader. Above all, Yoshida is a character who plays a role, not only with the reader by leading him down false paths, but also with regard to his own adolescence, behaving like an adult given the milieu in which he works and the obvious incompatibility between youth and public hunters.

Yoshida rejects his adolescence, school is just a cover or the exercise ground for his mission, his uniform, something temporary that he will take off when he has accomplished his mission. Remember when he was supposed to team up with Asa and Yuko? Yoshida has completely disappeared, even though he should have been part of the mission, bonding with the two teenagers.

Yoshida disappeared to do what he was really there to do, not to bond with the others, but just to keep an eye on Denji. His black eyes are an indescribable black hole, in which we understand neither the intention of his actions nor the personality behind them. They are there only to reflect the darkness of a system to which a teenager has agreed to bow.

Denji is the opposite of this black hole: he doesn't blend into the background, he's noisy, extremely expressive, finds it hard to lie and has no trouble revealing all his thoughts, even those we might hide for fear of social rejection. Unlike Yoshida, who has joined the system, Denji has been rejected by it, and is completely outside it, even though he wanted to be part of it. Asa is a third case: she belonged to the system but now rejects it.

So I like to interpret and I like to imagine Denji influencing Yoshida in a positive way. One envies his good looks, the way he's able to please people naturally, and the other envies the other's candid, inexhaustible and almost wandering sincerity. One sees the other as an enemy, a rival, someone who can't be identified or trusted; the other hopes to get away with denigrating the other, as something rejected by the system but manipulable.

Because Yoshiden has become problematic because the roles played by Denji and Yoshida and the way each sees the other have been interpreted as truths. As a stupid little thing who can be tormented with Denji, which is Yoshida's vision of Denji. And as a shady guy, a dangerous and sadistic rock with Yoshida, which is Denji's vision of Yoshida.

Instead of imagining a ship, some great stories, where they get to know each other and get out of this cycle of mistrust, some ships are based on this fear of the other and this mutual mistrust. Toxicity is even claimed in some cases, and the resulting non-consent established as a golden rule.

Obviously, I don't share this vision. I personally like to imagine Denji (like Asa) as bisexual. Because the question of gender is a theme of CSM, Denji is also a prisoner of a version of masculinity, of reproductive functions, of the obligation to bond with girls in order to achieve personal fulfilment.

Yoshida rejects all this unnaturally, because the slightest relationship is an obstacle for him. Above all, it's wrong to say that Denji has a problem with men and not with girls. His blind trust is a problem, as he demonstrated with Fumiko.

Denji's distrust of men is obviously the result of his own experience, and is problematic because of the way he distances himself from boys his own age. Chapter 139, in which Denji finds himself totally submissive to Fumiko and rejecting Miri's proposals, shows just how problematic Denji's relationship with gender can be.

This dual problem requires a solution, and I like to imagine Denji finding answers to it in his relationship with Asa and also with Yoshida. It's not so much polyamory that interests me as seeing how characters can find answers in each other, and I like imagining the possibilities so much that I'm often multishipper to see that I can love pairs.

Because even though I know that it can be surprising and that it's a fairly rare ship, seeing Asa and Yoshida also bond whether in terms of strict friendship or love (these two possibilities also apply to Yoshiden). Yoshida and Asa have the same rejection mechanisms and deal with their loneliness differently. Yoshida denies himself through his loneliness, relying on the system, while Asa sees herself as her only pillar, relying on herself.

I know that Yoshiden is just as interesting whether it's a story of friendship or love. But I'm a bit of a stickler for seeing it as a ship based on healthy love. Firstly because I like to imagine how Yoshida can fall in love. But also because I think that seeing Denji as a queer character now represents something unlikely for some fans, which worries others given the way the ship is portrayed in a problematic way. I also want to see Denji having healthy relationships with men. And because I love Asa so much, I want to find a place for her even when I envisage Denji with someone else lol.

Of course, I also want to see Denji loved twice as much as he deserves.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

_ "Nothing looks good damnit!" you whine frustratedly at your reflection in the mirror after trying out the nth outfit and hating everything that has touched your skin.

It's Saturday, the day you and Aizawa agreed upon for your dinner date, but the butterflies in your stomach are clouding your judgement and making you doubt yourself.

You look up the wall clock hanging opposite of your bed and bite down on your lip as you only have twenty minutes left until he's on your doorstep, definitely not enough time for you to dress up, fix your hair and makeup but you have to hurry, and you have to look beautiful, for him..

You glance at yourself one last time before taking a deep breath while many questions race through your mind, will he like this dress on you? Should you have kept it a bit more casual instead? Are you wearing too much makeup? Or maybe too little of it?

You jump up suddenly as the piercing sound of the doorbell reaches you, it must be him..

_ "Good evening, Mr Aizawa," it is him, in all his glory, clad in a pair of expensive looking black pants that hugged his slender legs marvelously, and an elegant white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, giving you a glimpse of his lean chest. He looks breathtaking, "I hope it wasn't too hard finding my apartment."

_ "It wasn't, you described it perfectly," he replies with a smile before adding, "you look beautiful."

_ "Thank you, that's so sweet of you," you look down at your feet, striving to conceal the deep blush warming up your cheeks, "and you look.. really handsome."

_ "Thanks," he chuckles softly while extending his hand to you, "shall we go?"

You did not expect yourself to be comfortable enough while sharing your life stories with someone you wished to impress, but something about him is making you put your guard down and speak freely even about the silliest and most embarrassing of tidbits.

He is charming, gentle, and an amazing listener, and between the delicious food in front of you and his pleasant company, you're feeling like you've known him for years, and you wish the night would never end.

You're learning a lot about him already, things you have never known before, or expected, things which are making you feel much closer to him.

Your eyes are fixed on the alluring man before you, listening to him eagerly while he tells you about once being a high school teacher for a few years along with his profession of a tattooist and owner of the studio facing your shop.

You now also know that Mr Yamada, Mr Shirakumo and Ms Kayama are his best friends since high school, they've been working with him since day one and made it easier for him to juggle two jobs.

_ "I never expected you to have had such an ordinary job before, and with kids no less!" you're trying your best to control your excitement at this new discovery, "somehow, this makes you sound even cooler than I thought."

He clears his throat and looks away from your blinding smile with evident bashfulness in his demeanor, "it does? Well, thanks."

He's cute, extremely so, and you've never thought the day would come when you would be describing him as such, but here you are, and it's making you fall for him harder each second that passes.

_ "Was there a reason why you had to quit your teaching job? I mean, I can imagine how tiresome it must've been for you to work day and night."

_ "You're right, but that's not the reason why I left school, it was because.." he smiles again, a bit differently than before, as if recalling a sweet memory, "I haven't told you this yet, but I have a daughter from a previous relationship, her name is Eri and she's seven.

A daughter? He's a father? You would have never expected this, it's even more surprising than learning about him being a teacher in the past, but it's adding to his charm and making you eager to know more.

He takes a sip of his drink before carrying on, "I didn't even know I had her until a few years ago, her mom kept the whole thing from me."

_ "Eri.. that's a cute name," you giggle softly while imagining him with his little girl, he is full of surprises, "was it serious between you and your ex?"

_ "It wasn't, we were young and stupid, and broke up after a few weeks of dating, and I didn't see her after that until she knocked on my door one day with Eri in her arms, she told me she was getting married and that I had to take care of our daughter because her to be husband didn't want kids."

_ "It must've been a lot to take huh? Was this the reason why you quit school?" you've been too invested in his story that you failed to notice your face inching closer to his.

_ "I was given a chance to make up for all the time I couldn't be there for her, so I had to make a choice, I owed her at least that much." he traces a finger along the back of your hand, and you almost shiver at the electrifying sensation of his touch.

_ "Is she home now? Who's keeping her company?"

_ "Her babysitter is, a wonderful woman with years of experience and kids of her own who are in their twenties now, so she knows exactly how to take care of Eri when I'm not home or working."

_ "you're an amazing person Mr Aizawa, and Eri will grow up to be a wonderful woman because she has a father like you." the warmth spreading throughout your veins is reaching your fingertips, this man sitting across from you is beautiful, inside and out, he is simply perfect.

_ "You're the one who's amazing," he finally holds your hand in his, squeezing it lightly for emphasis, "you know, I've never really cared about having a partner, and none of my previous encounters were serious because I was afraid of somehow hurting Eri or making her feel neglected, so I was fine just being a father, and promised myself that I will only expose her to people I can trust," he brings your hand to his lips, planting a soft peck there, and lingering for a moment, before meeting your eyes again, "and then you moved in across from me, and I haven't been able to take you out of my mind since."

You bite down on your lip to keep from squealing, as the feeling of his words and his kiss is driving you insane.

His words take you back to that day, when you opened the doors of your shop for the first time ever, almost seven months ago, you were both excited and anxious at the same time, you have put every last penny you owned into it and you were determined to succeed.

It was then when you met this handsome man, the one who has since made your days more exciting as you counted the seconds each day until seeing him for those mere moments that made up for hours of waiting, and here he says that he has noticed you? How come you have been so oblivious to that?

_ "How?" you have to know.

_ "Well, I found it cute when you froze in place the first time you saw me but tried your hardest to look nonchalant as you greeted me, it was obvious you were pretending and I found it endearing." your hand is still in his, and your eyes are following the invisible pattern he's drawing on your skin, because you're not confident enough to look him in the eye just yet.

_ "Tha.. that's not true." and you're pouting now, not for being upset, but rather for being embarrassed to be found out.

_ "I love that your reactions are always too honest," he chuckles heartily, "it shows how pure you are, and makes being with you very comforting."

The heat in your face is raising remarkably as you pull your hand from his so you could lace your fingers together in a rare moment of boldness.

_ "I was right about you all along," you start after a minute of silence, "you are too kind hearted Mr Aizawa."

Your time with him has been magical, the best night of your life, and the bright smile is refusing to leave your face as he drives you home.

_ "I had a wonderful time Mr Aizawa, thank you for asking me out." and your eyes are fixed on the ground as he walks you to your doorstep.

_ "Thank you for saying yes," he doesn't miss a beat as he replies, smiling softly while you both come to a halt facing each other and surrounded by the night's fresh air that's casting a pleasant atmosphere around you, "I wanted to ask you out for a while now actually, but didn't want to make things awkward in case you said no."

_ "Yo.. you really mean that? Then, what made you change your mind?"

_ "It was the moment you barged in and asked for a tattoo, you were nervous, but also quite brave, I was blown away and.." he breathes in deeply, "somehow I thought that maybe a part of the reason why you showed up that day, was because you wanted to see me."

_ "It was, it actually was.." you look into his eyes as you speak, suddenly all bashfulness and hesitation are leaving you, "I nearly gave up on all hope, but I'm glad I didn't."

His shoulders visibly relax as he gets even closer to you that your breaths are now mingling, his hand comes up to cradle your cheek and the cool feeling of it against your heated skin coaxes you into nuzzling it, "can I kiss you?" he requests cautiously, and you nod fervently.

He leans in slowly, pecking your parted lips once and pulling back to gaze into your longing eyes before connecting your lips again.

It's slow and gentle, and the feeling of his surprisingly soft lips is weakening your knees.

You are kissing him, truly, unlike the countless days and nights you spent imagining it, this is actually happening and it's so much better than all your fantasies.

His arms are on your waist, holding you securely and pulling you flush against his toned chest, as you reach yours around his neck to bring him closer and deepen the kiss.

Your lips are moving together in rhyme, and you fight the urge to whimper against him, he's stealing your breath away but you don't mind, you don't have to breathe, you don't want to pull away, you just need to feel him a bit longer.. just a little bit more..

Sadly though, a gush of air slaps your face as he parts from you, and your lips are suddenly feeling lonely without him.

_ "Sweet," he breathes out, half lidded eyes studying your flushed face, "tonight was perfect."

_ "It was." your arms slide down his neck to rest against his chest, and you can feel his thundering heartbeat under your touch.

_ "I'll see you Monday." and he finally releases you from his warm embrace.

_ "Oh, yeah.. right, Monday." it's impossible for you to hide your gloom, Monday seems far away, and that little moment you're used to share every evening as you close your shop and he opens his, doesn't seem enough anymore.

_ "Unless.." he interrupts your thoughts and your ears prick up as you listen eagerly, "I'm taking Eri to the park tomorrow afternoon, do you want to join us?"

_ "Can I really come?" you are overwhelmed with emotions, looking up at him with shine in your eyes and a wide smile on your lips.

You haven't forgotten what he said earlier, about being careful whom he allows near his daughter, and hearing his invitation to share the day with them is more than you can dream of happening.

He takes your hand in his, planting a soft kiss on your skin before speaking, "I'd love that."

_ "Then I won't miss it for the world!"

To be continued..

[loslentesdepedrito]

I'm Your Wife- Chapter One

Top right gif by: @uuuhshiny , bottom left gif by: @userdjarin

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Word count: 4.7k+

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Chapter summary: You're filled with excitement as you share news with your husband, Jack. However, his reaction isn't what you were expecting. His hurtful and hateful words leave you reeling, causing you to reconsider your marriage. Luckily, friends and family are there to help you through.

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut.

Warnings: ANGST, topics of death and mourning, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, pregnancy, divorce, toxic marriage. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: Yes, I'm aware that this piece bears similarities to my first work (Jack Daniels and Frankie Morales) that I shared here. However, I only realized this after creating the graphic at the top. Oops! If you've grown tired of the Whiskey storyline, I have another piece with Dave York available!

"Jack?" You call out, anticipation and happiness filling your voice. Jack brings his head up and looks at you, his eyes reflecting the joy that radiates from you.

"Yes, sugar?" he responds, mirroring your smile with his own.

You can't help but let your smile grow wider. "I'm pregnant!"

But the moment the words escape your lips, Jack's smile vanishes before your eyes. Confusion swirls within you, and you can't understand his reaction. "No, you ain’t," he denies firmly.

You refuse to let his denial dampen your excitement. With a quieter voice, you insist, "Yes, I am."

Again, he denies your claim. "No. You ain’t pregnant." His Southern drawl carries a mix of shock and denial.

He’s got to be in shock, right? you wonder silently, trying to make sense of his reaction. He must be, you reason, which is why you decide to make it more tangible for him.

"I am. Look!" You declare proudly, pulling out the glossy black and white sonogram from your pocket, and presenting it to him.

But to Jack, it all feels wrong. He glances at the sonogram, your name on the top left corner, and the blurry white image representing the tiny life growing inside you. Overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, Jack shuts his eyes tightly, wishing desperately that this is all just a nightmare. Meanwhile, you remain over the moon, your gaze fixated on the sonogram, admiring the newly forming person you already love the most. I already love you more than words can describe. You’ll be loved so much, I promise. 

In an instant, a sharp sting shoots through your right fingertips, eliciting a hiss of pain from your lips. Startled, you look down and see the crumpled sonogram on the floor. It becomes clear to you that Jack's intention was simply to drop the picture, but the force behind his action accidentally inflicted pain on your fingers. As you wince from the ache, Jack's realization dawns upon him, triggered by the audible hiss of pain that escaped you. However, the physical pain in your hand pales in comparison to the overwhelming confusion and hurt that now blossoms within you.

The sharp sting brings you back to reality, and you struggle to comprehend why you felt the need to step away from your own husband. Your heartbeat quickens, mirroring the pace of your racing thoughts, as you bend down to pick up the now-bent sonogram.

Jack has never laid a hand on you before, not even in the slightest way. You take a cautious step back, ensuring a safe distance between you. Your voice quivers with a mix of concern and hurt as you ask, "What's wrong with you?"

He shakes his head frantically, before he finally speaks, "This ain’t supposed to happen."

Confusion deepens within you, and you struggle to understand his meaning. "What... what do you mean, love?"

"This ain’t supposed to happen," Jack repeats, his voice filled with desperation.

You remain silent, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to offer an explanation. But his next words cut through you like a knife. "You can't be pregnant... You just can't!"

You flinch back, wounded by his outburst. The pain in his words sears through, and tears well up in your eyes. "This ain’t supposed to happen with you," he continues, his voice filled with anguish. "I... I was supposed to have a family with my wife."

His reference to his first wife, tragically taken from him years before you entered his life, shatters your heart into a million pieces. The weight of his grief and loss settles heavily upon you, mingling with your own pain. You whisper, barely audible, "I'm your wife."

The words escape your lips, your voice barely registering as a hushed murmur. But Jack's confusion echoes in his question, "What?"

"I'M YOUR WIFE!" you shout, your voice filled with hurt and frustration. "It's me! You married me!"

"I held my tongue for so long, but I can't bear it any longer," you continue, your words pouring out in a torrent of pent-up emotions. "You make me feel like the other woman like you didn't even marry me."

"You always call her your wife when I'm right next to you. And no, this isn't being dramatic or exaggerating. Did you know you've always done it? Even my own family noticed and they keep having to pull me aside to tell me about it. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue, because you always do it. That's why no one in my family likes you!"

Tears stream down your face as you pour out your heart, laying bare the insecurities and pain that have haunted you for the entirety of your marriage. "I never told you because I didn't want to seem selfish or disrespectful, but you're the one who only thinks of himself and has no respect for me.”

“¡Dios mio!" You exclaim in exasperation. "I told myself I was going crazy for feeling this way. You said it when we were dating, then when we got engaged, and foolishly, I thought you would stop once we became husband and wife. But no."

"When we were dating and talked about our future, I made it clear that I wanted to get married and eventually have children. You knew this! If you didn't want the same things, we should have parted ways, but you said you wanted it too." You say, your voice choking with emotion.

Your voice cracks with frustration and heartache as you continue, "Well, I guess you needed a big wedding to consider me your wife, huh?” You let out a bitter chuckle, the sound carrying a tinge of despair. “You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams. I always wanted a celebration with all of my family, and you disregarded my wishes. Fuck, I should have seen this coming! You didn't want a big wedding to overshadow your perfect one, right?" Your words are filled with bitter resentment as you yell out your frustrations.

"YES!" Jack explodes, his own emotions coming to the surface. "I didn't want to replace her memory with you! My first weddin’ was perfect, and nothin’ could have beat it. So, why should I have tried to replicate it with you? I still love her and my boy so much... I tried with you, but it just ain't right! You need to get rid of it. Y'can't keep goin' through with it. She's the love of my life, and you..."

His words slice through your heart, leaving you in pieces. You collapse into sobs, your entire being overwhelmed by the weight of his contempt of you and the anguish of his lingering love for his late wife. "Your first wedding or your first wife?" You choke out through your tears. 

"Marrying you was the worst decision I ever made." Jack's words hit you like a punch to the gut, intensifying your heartbreak.

Why the hell did he marry me then? Echoes in your head, tormenting you with unanswered questions and self-doubt.

"Then why am I still in your life?" you manage to say, your voice barely audible as you struggle to understand why he hasn't let you go if you're such a disappointment to him.

"Because you're needy and fuckin’ clingy, and you won't let g-" Jack's words are abruptly cut off by your interruption.

"Don't," You interject. "You don't have to finish that sentence." You say through the knot in your throat. "I know where I'm not wanted. Don't worry, I won't force you to stay in this so-called marriage, and I will not force you to be my child's father.”

Your voice trembles with a mixture of sadness and determination, as you gather the strength to continue. "I can't keep being the only one fighting for this relationship. The only one who wants to be in this marriage. I won't even suggest therapy. Remember the last time I asked you to go? You wouldn't fucking talk to me and kept going to her grave and god knows where else! For two weeks! Do you have any idea how I felt? I can't keep doing this. I won't compete with a ghost. Not anymore. I'm done.” After those two weeks, I don’t know how I believe we could have worked through his grief. I just.. I didn’t know he didn’t love me...

The words hang in the air, heavy with finality. You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to continue. "I'll contact my lawyer and initiate the divorce proceedings. The papers should arrive soon. I won't ask you for any financial support for my child. So, just do one last thing for me — I mean, you've never really done anything for me — but sign the papers as soon as you receive them, so I can stop being the wife you despise. I'll stay somewhere else tonight, and people will come tomorrow morning to move all my personal belongings. Anything we purchased together will be sold, and the payment will be spl- You know what? I don't have time for this. My lawyer will clarify everything." The words leave your lips with a mix of sadness and determination, the image of a shattered dream painted across your mind.

Through tear-filled eyes, you gather your strength and make a decision. It's time to take control of your own happiness, to reclaim your sense of self-worth. With a trembling voice, you declare, "I won't let myself be treated like this anymore. I deserve to be with someone who loves and cherishes me. I won't settle for anything less."

You feel drained, your heart shattered, but you know you need to leave. You put the sonogram in your purse and turn to head out, but not before you deliver a final blow. "When someone asks about your wife is, you can say her name. You already do."

Jack stands frozen, his mind filled with regret and the realization of the irreparable damage he has caused. Part of him wants to chase after you, to beg you to stay, but he remains rooted to the spot, consumed by guilt and sorrow. The room feels empty and suffocating, the shattered dreams and broken promises hanging heavily in the air.

Jack's eyes snap open to a sudden commotion reverberating through the walls of his house. His Statesman training kicks in, and he springs out of bed with the speed of lightning. The adrenaline coursing through his veins fuels his urgency to investigate the source of the disturbance. Hastily, he descends the stairs, his mind racing, and his heart pounding in his chest.

As Jack reaches the ground floor, he is met with an unexpected sight. A decent group of movers, your family, and your friends filling the space. Instantly, his gaze falls upon your cousins, aunts, uncles, and fucking Javier Peña. Jack's blood boils with a deep-seated hatred for Javier.

Javier had been your best friend during your early childhood, but with a move across the country, you never saw him again. Until, five months ago, when everything changed. You and Jack were out grocery shopping when you reached for a package of chocolate abuelita. In that split second, a large hand enveloped yours, jolting your attention towards a deep voice that called out, "Cariño?" The whirlwind of emotions Jack experienced was suffocating. He watched, consumed by jealousy, as you recognized the man before you. Witnessing the radiant expression on your face, he saw you embrace Javier and ecstatically exclaim, "Javi!" The sight of your reddened cheeks when you released him, burned a searing image into Jack's memory. Despite Jack’s language barrier, he observed how animatedly you conversed with Javier. Although he couldn't understand most of the conversation, he caught the moment when Javier mentioned that he was only in town for one day and then swiftly requested to exchange contact information. Concealing himself around the corner, Jack surreptitiously observed the scene of you giving Javier one last hug, unable to tear his eyes away.

Right after you parted ways with Javier, you excitedly recounted the encounter to Jack, oblivious to the torment it caused him. You spoke about your long-lost friend Javier, sharing every detail, and Jack listened, pretending it was all fresh information. Before the day was over, you informed Jack that Javier had called to tell you he accepted a position at the local police department and asked you to meet him so you could catch up.

The memories flood back for Jack, his resentment towards Javier intensifying. He vividly remembers the christening of one of your second cousins, a significant event, and one where your family showered Javier with adoration. It was another moment that added fuel to Jack's growing disdain for him.

Now, here he stands, witnessing Javier Peña loitering around his home, overseeing the packing of your belongings into cardboard boxes. The sight ignites an inferno within Jack, further fueling his abhorrence for the man everyone loved.

In a flurry of activity, everyone rushes about, their movements brimming with urgency. Oblivious to Jack's presence, they fail to notice him standing at the bottom of the staircase. Suddenly, your friend, colleague, and lawyer, Raul, approaches Jack, breaking through the chaos. The weight of the forthcoming conversation settles heavily upon Jack as Raul addresses him, his tone grave, "Mr. Daniels, we have some matters to discuss."

Jack tenses, fully aware of the impending storm that awaits him. Every word uttered by Raul feels like a stab wound, each syllable a reminder of the impending divorce. The word echoes relentlessly in his mind, sending shockwaves through his entire being. Jack longs for a blink, a mere blink to make all of this vanish, to have you by his side once more. Deep down, though, he knows he cannot be the father your child deserves, and he fears you'll never take him back after the hurtful words he unleashed. Helplessly, he stands there, his emotions raging, as every piece of your shared life is stripped away. Clothes, jewelry, pictures, shoes, bags, kitchenware, even the goddamn fridge magnets—every item is callously placed into clear bags and then transferred into their respective brown cardboard boxes, their labels written in bold red letters.

The pain intensifies as your favorite cousin removes your wedding pictures from the wall, carelessly flipping them upside down before removing them from their expensive frame, and then unceremoniously tossing only the pictures into a box labeled 'QUE ARDA.' Jack wonders what you plan to do with those cherished memories. He makes a mental note to translate that phrase later, his mind cluttered with thoughts and emotions.

As the relentless dismantling of memories continues, Jack withdraws into the sanctuary of your shared bedroom, seeking solace amidst the chaos. The weight of despair presses upon him, urging him to preserve a fragment of what once was. With trembling hands and a heavy heart, he surreptitiously slides one cherished wedding photograph beneath the protective shelter of his underwear drawer. It rests there, hidden from prying eyes, a bittersweet reminder of a love that now hangs by a thread. The image captures the essence of your wedding day, a moment frozen in time where love and hope intertwined. It represents a fleeting glimpse of happiness that Jack yearns to hold onto, to cherish, even if only in the confines of his solitary existence. As his eyes settle upon the drawer, a surge of emotions courses through his veins, reminding him of the role he played in their unraveling.

In the depths of his soul, Jack confronts the painful truth that he bears responsibility for their crumbling relationship. Regret claws at his conscience, its grip unyielding. The yearning to hold onto the photograph, to clutch onto the semblance of what they once had, tugs at his heartstrings. It is a bittersweet reminder of the love they had, now tainted by his own shortcomings and mistakes. To Jack, the photograph is a painful reminder of what he has lost, a reminder that this photograph, like their love, now resides hidden away in the depths of darkness. I did love her, I still do… he finally admits to himself 

But even as he acknowledges his fault, the reality of their situation remains unchanged. The impending finality of divorce looms before him, a painful reminder that holding onto faded illusions will not resurrect her love. With a heavy sigh, Jack turns away, unable to escape the weight of his actions and the consequences that now unfold.

Stepping back, Jack's eyes lock onto the figure of Javier, approaching the room with purpose. Clutching a box labeled 'ROPA,' the weight of past joys and sorrows, Javier carries an unmistakable yellow envelope securely tucked beneath his arm. The sight sends a surge of conflicted emotions coursing through Jack's veins. There, within the confines of that envelope, lies the final decree that will sever the bonds his marriage once held.

Jack wrestles with conflicting desires. He longs to keep the photograph close, to savor the image that once symbolized their dreams and aspirations. Its presence would serve as a evidence of the love they once shared. Yet, the impending finality of divorce tugs at his conscience, reminding him of the futility of holding onto a fading illusion.

His moment of introspection is abruptly interrupted by Javier stepping into the room, "We just need this room, and then we're done," Javier's voice cuts through the heavy air, each word dripping with finality. He strides past Jack with deliberate intent, their shoulders colliding in a jarring collision. It’s a calculated move, a manifestation of tensions and unspoken grievances. The impact reverberates through Jack's being, jolting him with a surge of mixed emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

Javier's voice pierces through the silence, demanding Jack's compliance. "Oh, and sign this," he commands, holding out the document that seals their separation. Jack's heart sinks further, aching with the weight of his mistakes and the harsh reality of his actions. He realizes that his choices and his inability to fight for their love have led them to this precipice of destruction.

A whirlwind of emotions swirls within Jack as he struggles to maintain composure. He longs to retort, confront Javier, to defend himself against the accusations that echo in his mind. But the fear of breaking down, of exposing his raw vulnerability to his nemesis, forces him to swallow his words and bury his pain beneath a façade of indifference.

Suppressing his emotions, Jack forces out a strained response. "I'll go get a pen," he mutters, his voice betraying the cracks in his armor. Of course, he notices a pen casually protruding from Javier's pocket, but doesn’t acknowledge it. Jack's intentions are twofold - to avoid indebtedness to Javier and to steal a fleeting moment of solitude, where he can gather his shattered pieces and shield his vulnerability from prying eyes.

"No need," Javier replies, retrieving a black fountain pen from his crimson shirt. "Here."

Jack accepts the pen wordlessly, turning away from Javier. A wave of emotions washes over him as he approaches the smooth surface of your cherished vanity. Its polished veneer reflects the dim light in the room, casting a soft glow that dances upon the surface like distant stars in the night sky.

As he places the envelope down, he can't help but notice how out of place it looks amidst the serenity of the vanity. The contrast between the cold, impersonal paper and the warmth of the polished wood is sharp. It's a physical manifestation of the turmoil raging within Jack's heart, a stark reminder of the shattered dreams and promises that now lie in ruins.

His attention is momentarily diverted, his ears pricking up at the sound of hangers clanging against each other in the closet. Javier's intrusion into this intimate space feels like an invasion, a violation of the sanctity that once existed between you and Jack. The echoes of the hangers serve as a painful reminder of how swiftly everything has unraveled, leaving him feeling helpless and adrift in a sea of emotions.

The entrance of more voices into the room disrupts Jack's already tumultuous thoughts, shattering the fragile stillness that once enveloped the space. Amidst the chaos, a distinct sound catches his attention—an unmistakable rustling of a bag. He turns, his gaze drawn to one of your uncles holding a storage bag. Its contents hold a precious piece of your shared history, the short, simple white dress you wore on your wedding day. The bag appears relatively small, but it carries an immense weight that lodges itself as a hard lump in Jack's throat.

A rush of memories floods his mind, triggered by your words uttered just the night before: "You couldn't even give me the wedding of my dreams." The sting of truth reverberates through his being, for he knows deep down that you were right. You had shared your dream for a celebration surrounded by all your loved ones, but he had selfishly protested. It was never a matter of financial constraints, as both of you were financially stable, but rather his fear of overshadowing the memory of his first marriage. The image of your tear-streaked face flashes before his eyes, when he said he “didn’t want to make a big deal about the wedding," a haunting reminder of the pain he inflicted upon you with his own demons.

His heart aches as he realizes that you had ultimately surrendered, selflessly agreeing to a courthouse wedding to avoid further conflict. There were no grand gestures, no best man to stand beside him, and only your parents as witnesses. The weight of his own choices and the consequences of his actions press heavily upon him, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. Regret engulfs him, his remorse magnified by the sight of your dress being packed away, a symbol of the dreams he shattered and the happiness he denied you. 

Jack sees your uncle place the storage bag in the 'QUE ARDA' box he noticed earlier, and he knows he will never see that dress again. Unable to bear the weight of these memories any longer, Jack lowers his gaze, seeking solace in the downward cast of his eyes. The room buzzes with activity as more of your possessions are packed away, each item serving as a painful reminder of the life he once shared with you. The anguish wells up within him, threatening to consume his fragile composure. He longs to shield himself from the mounting pain, to retreat into a fortress of emotional detachment, even as his heart aches with the knowledge of the devastation he has caused.

Jack knows he must face the inevitable. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he doesn’t have another choice. He didn’t love you as he should have. He wasn’t a husband to you in the truest sense. Reluctantly, he opens the envelope, gingerly withdrawing the papers contained within. The bold letters of "Decree of No Fault Divorce" sting his eyes, and tears threaten to spill onto the pages. A part of him wants to let them flow freely onto the papers, to show you just how deeply this affects him too.

His gaze traces the contents of the documents, fixating on your initials, your signatures, and the relinquishment of parental rights. He shouldn't be so close to letting out a sob at the sight of everything laid out. The pain is overwhelming, almost suffocating. He had said that he didn't want to be a father to your child, screaming those hurtful words at you. This is what he wanted, isn't it?

Thoughts whirl in his mind as he contemplates sending the papers to a lawyer, as your lawyer had suggested. But he doesn't want to prolong your agony. He senses your urgency to sever ties with him. He doesn't want to contest the division of assets, knowing that what rightfully belongs to you should remain with you. He reads a statement noting that while you're not asking for child support, he understands if the court mandates it.

With a heavy heart and trembling hand, Jack signs his name on the designated line next to your signature. By the time he surrenders his parental rights and agrees to everything else, his hands have gone numb.

Lost in his thoughts and emotions, Jack is unaware of the activity in the room until he notices your lawyer approaching him. Raul's presence jolts him back to reality.

"Very well. I will expedite these papers," Raul states, extending his hand to collect the envelope.

Jack hesitates, his grip tightening on the document, reluctant to surrender it. In fact, a surge of defiance pulses through him, urging him to tear it into countless pieces, to feed it to the pigs, and restore all your belongings to their rightful places within the sanctuary of your home. But he knows he must suppress these rebellious impulses. Reluctantly, his fingers loosen, and he extends the envelope, a mixture of sorrow and resentment coursing through his veins. The burden of the decision he made hangs heavy upon him, a haunting reminder of the choices that have led to this painful moment.

Unexpectedly, Raul reaches into the depths of his dark gray suit pocket, retrieving a small black box. Jack's heart clenches in recognition, knowing all too well the contents that lie within. 

"Here is my client's wedding band and diamond ring. She wanted to return them to you." Raul informs him.

The box becomes a symbol of shattered dreams and promises, a vessel holding the remnants of the love that once bound them together. It serves as a perfect reminder of the life they had envisioned, now irrevocably altered.

The gravity of the situation bears down upon Jack's weary shoulders as he gazes at the box, his mind flooded with a whirlwind of emotions. It is a bitter pill to swallow, suddenly acknowledging the pain he has caused and the irreversible damage inflicted upon the once-vibrant tapestry of their relationship. Regret seeps into every pore, intertwining with the threads of sorrow that bind him, leaving an indelible mark upon his soul.

Jack's fingertips tingle with a mix of trepidation and resignation, for in surrendering the envelope, he recognizes the finality of their life together.

With a heavy sigh, Jack reluctantly releases his grip on the envelope, its transfer an act of surrender and acceptance. The bittersweet taste of resignation lingers on his tongue, a poignant reminder of the love that once burned brightly but now smolders in the ashes of what could have been. The echoes of his unspoken regrets reverberate through his being as the envelope changes hands, sealing their fate.

Javier's voice pierces the silence, "Ya está todo" ("It's all done"). Without a single word directed at Jack, everyone exits the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Your family and the movers pick up the boxes and load them into a truck that will carry them away, transporting them to a place where you can begin anew, free from him.

The sound of the door closing echoes through the nearly empty room, and Jack retrieves his phone, launching the translation app. He enters the phrase "QUE ARDA," and his stomach churns as he reads the translation of what you intend to do with your wedding items and the pictures you once cherished: "LET IT BURN"

Overwhelmed by emotions, Jack collapses onto the bed in the nearly bare room, tears streaming down his face. The weight of his actions and the consequences of his words crash down upon him, suffocating him in remorse and regret. He yearns for a way to turn back time, to rectify the pain he inflicted upon you throughout the years. How did she keep up with everything I put her through? He asks himself.  But he knows it's too late. All he can do now is bear the burden of his mistakes and hope that someday, somehow, you can find it in your heart to forgive him.

In the depths of his being, Jack understands that the time for desperate gestures and sentimental hopes has passed. It is a painful admission, an acceptance that their love has slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. And as he looks at his underwear drawer, the image etched into his memory, he carries the burden of his own fault, knowing that he didn't want his wounds to fully heal, which, in turn, caused your own wounds.

Extended note: (Repeating from my previous Dave post from yesterday, because I believe there isn't much overlap between Jack and Dave fans. So I'm sharing this here as well.) As I mentioned in my initial post, I have been writing fanfiction for a long time. However, I recently decided to start sharing some of my work. English is my third language, and while I have experience writing and publishing grants, research papers, proposals, and so on, it’s nothing compared to fanfiction and erotica. Also, I have always had a team to revise my work, so this is definitely outside of my comfort zone. With this being said, I apologize for any and all mistakes because if I read this over, I’ll overthink and not post.

I don't know when the next part will be up because I like to create dividers and the image displayed at the top of the post. I'm not quite sure what to call it—Collage-like manner gifs? Banner? Oh, and I'm horrible at graphic design, so it took me an embarrassing amount of time to create the ones included here.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎

Please feel free to comment and reblog! (If you would like to, of course :)

[rustedhearts]

hi rolly, hope all is well. i recently read "but i love him", and i think ive said this before, i cant remember, but your ability to capture very specific experiences/emotions really makes all of your fics stand out! like apart from the very well done characterisation (with each character/variation of steve and reader having a unique character voice), and atmospheric narrative that makes it easy to immerse in the scene, each story feels very coherent and complete thematically, even if its part of a larger series. i know its literally around only 1.5k words and written with a sort of particular goal in mind and so not like a totally accurate representation, but it was kind of fascinating from an outsider's perspective of like, what general setting a small (from the general sounds of it white coded) midwestern town would look like, especially as someone who grew up in a very urban environment with lots of other fellow immigrants and first generation people, and mostly read books that tend to reflect those specific experiences.

Its literally written as a warning but i was sort of shocked at how much of a bad taste in my mouth this guy put in my mouth?? like yeah he sucks, but i don't think his specific treatment of the reader is like, that egregiously worse than like some of boxer!steve's behaviour, or like the straight up abuse of power that is present in priest!steve. I thought about it, and, i think some if it is because of the fact that the boxer and priest are introduced with a charming and charismatic first impression.

but also i think its because of the aesthetic tones you've used really well! Your priest!steve series have always felt, at least to me, like some sort of southern gothic horror/romance, like crimson peak, where the high aesthetic of the language describing moral decay turns it into a story of appreciating that aesthetic beauty rather than examining that moral decay, which then gives readers pause to examine their own complicity in moral decay at a larger structural level. i really hope that made any sense but basically the way its written so beautifully, all the warm, gauzy summer scenes, and attractiveness of the various characters, movie-like dialogues, and sex charged scenes, distract me from the horror of the situation, that only really sets in after like a minute, and then i am doubly horrified which also weirdly is very aesthetically pleasing. i am trapped in a cycle it seems. boxer!steve similarly, especially at later points, is surrounded by like luxuries and wealth and a buzzing of californian excitement that make his actions seem smaller than they really are, especially when he apologises in the earlier chapters and i know there's a charged scene coming and allow myself to, again, get swept away in the beauty of the language that you wield really beautifully and effectively, despite being the polar opposite of a hot Christian Georgia town.

I think with this fic, the aesthetic pleasure was not as present immediately in the setting. Cold and lonesome with a guy introduced as angry doesn't give the same fantasy as sun soaked southern summer or wild shimmering california girlfriend, but it had a really unique hook all the same. the cold you wrote was so good, i swear it made me dread the canadian winter already and while it was strange sort of seeing the already dampened enthusiasm these two had when i'm used to seeing the honeymoon phase first, it also made me curious to see why these two did stay with each other, like on a character analysis level. as uncomfortable as i was in the cold, i was also uncomfortable because of the frosty relationship in the room and was caught between wanting to see them fight or make up, anything to see more of their extreme reactions to cut the cold you put in the room, to heat myself up. And omg! You did! in a way that felt true to what we knew about these people and let us know more about them (reader's desire to be possessed by a singular person who loves her to the point of wanting to cage her in and possess her and her doing a lot of the emotional labour and reparation after a fight), and that fit the tone of the rest of the story so well. there was always a feeling of something larger than both of them during that whole scene, like she was fixing a symptom and not the root cause (his anger and emotional issues, her not being able to get out of this), which is true, but you wrote it like a haunting ghost, always lingering even when you want it gone. specifically, what spoke out to me was when she looks at the cross on the wall, and then the one he has tattooed on his knuckle, and it felt almost odd, like he was taking this very real part of someone's faith and turning it into his own variation of an intimidation tactic, and seeing it in the bedroom felt just off kilter to me. And the car ride....omg....even when they're making up he will do something horrible! and she just sits there! hearing the yells but only in short bursts of scuffles, and then having him come back bruised and grinning while she sort of sits in horror and unsure felt like you captured a microcosm of their whole dynamic. idk if i'm making it much worse/darker than you intended and if so i apologise! i am genuinely excited to see how they will play out, specifically reader's desire to be consumed almost it seems for the price of love!

this is so insanely long and i tried editing it to make it shorter but i really apologise for the length. you're such a talent and reading your work always makes me excited to analyse and try to pick up on your thematic and aesthetic choices that you always execute with such grace and we are all so lucky that you've decided to share this beautiful literature with us for free.

you never fail to blow me away with these asks, and every time you send one i genuinely try and sit and soak it all in and appreciate it, because wow!!! i’m so spoiled!! 💓💓💓

i also think you live in my head, because you completely understand everything and its purpose lol. i’m convinced you’re just a little chunk of my brain living somewhere else

this steve is definitely different because he’s bad for bad’s sake. like you said, there’s no passion behind why he commits these crimes. his reason is literally just “because he wanted to.” it’s just a cycle he was always bound to end up in. with boxer!steve, his overprotective jess and jealousy stems from his passion for libby. with pastor!steve, his icky, slimy grossness stems from desire for delilah.

this steve is just…evil, honestly.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Weekly Book Recs: 10/20-10/27

The Kiss Curse by Erin Sterling

I liked The Ex Hex--and I liked this one even more. Pair a prickly man who likes to wear vests (and one time, a sweater vest) with a wild woman who thinks he's the most boring thing ever? Yes. It begins as a rival witch store thing, and spins into a mystery with some fairly high stakes. The entire time, it's funny, light, and sexy. (Yes, she does ride his face in the back of a truck at one point. Yes, it's great.) These are the perfect Halloween season romcoms, and this one puts the talking cat forward.

Saint by Sierra Simone

If Priest is this erotic operatic angstfest and Sinner a surprisingly sorrowful titillationfest, Saint is a truly reflective, emotional piningfest. Aiden Bell, erstwhile monk who really, really struggles with still being in love with his ex-boyfriend Elijah (this is not aided by the fact that they end up touring European monasteries together) is longing. Longing for Elijah, longing for God, longing for a purpose that will keep him from falling back into the black pit of depression. I don't know if any book I've read before has better described depression, in a way I truly related to. I will say--this is gorgeous and hot and swooningly romantic and surprisingly funny at points, but it is very honest about mental health, so handle with care.

Never Seduce a Scot by Maya Banks

I've been wanting to read Maya Banks for forever, and I wasn't disappointed. This is a well-written (and surprisingly sweet) medieval romance, centered around a hero who is actually a lot gentler than I expected, and a heroine whose deafness has led everyone to believe she is "daft". There's a really lovely romance between the two of them, with Graeme so determined to be ethical and not touch his wife, despite how attracted to her he is, because he doesn't actually believe she can consent. Whereas not only can Eveline consent--she super, super wants to. Graeme was great; Eveline was even better, a really fab heroine who absolutely made the book.

Goddess of the Hunt by Tessa Dare

I always forget just how good Tessa Dare is at her job until I read another Tessa Dare. She's just good! She's fucking good--great, really. Few authors hit the sweet spot between humor, heat, and emotion that she does. And this is her debut, which I've seen her poke fun at on social media. As a writer, I get that, but it's really quite strong and already has the distinct "Tessa" voice. It's hilarious and it's sexy, and has just the right sprinkling of angst to keep it from being boring. The plot is pretty simple--brother's best friend sort of helps our heroine make the guy she thinks she's in love with jealous. But Lucy is just such a batshit heroine, constantly driving Jeremy insane with her tendency to get into trouble--and her tendency to give him a massive boner, frankly. If you need something that will make you smile throughout--and then throw in a... sickeningly hot pair of angry sex scenes.... look no more, you've got it here.

Highlander Most Wanted by Maya Banks

Oof, this one is a lot--and I'll tell you right now, recovering from rape and abuse (neither by the hero) is a big part of the plot. Genevieve is a wounded and deeply lovable heroine; after reading two Maya Banks books back to back, I'm really impressed by how she writes heroines especially. And so far, both of the heroes I've read by her have been loving and fierce but gentle with their women. It's a unique take on a medieval hero. It's somewhat light on plot and big on character development, a romantic book about recovery and coming to terms with the past.

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Hello, I'm asking around (both because I wanna try something and because writer's block is crushing me)

Do you have any prompts that you've been meaning to write and/or want to give out?

Hello Nova!

I am like really really bad at prompts, but I've compiled the best ones from the list on my notes:

a day from the pov of your reflection in the mirror

just start writing any story and always go for the "what's the wrost thing that could happen?" option (this one's tricky cause if you want it to be long you need to create a balance in between the worst of the worst and not making the characters die or worse so that the story ends)

write your own myth! I did this to escape writing's block a few months ago by pickin any sort of phenomena (natural or otherwise) and explaining it with a story

pick two or more of your OC's from different wips and write their interactions if they ever met.

or you can also write what would happen if they swapped out places in their wips

take a look around you and pick and object. then, describe it as if you were a researcher or an archeologist and you found it excavating (bonus points if you give it a completely different use and make mistakes with its function)

hope any of these help!

[newjerseyprelawland-blog]

The Right to Copy Copyrights: Entering the Public Domain

By Gregory Martinez,  Rutgers University–New Brunswick  Class of 2026

October 1, 2023

In April 2021, Florence Welch of indie rock band Florence and the Machine announced plans to debut a Broadway adaptation of the American classic novel The Great Gatsby, leading to great anticipation for a fresh take on a seminal social commentary on the American dream and the aristocracy. And just two months earlier, plans to make an animated feature film were announced by DNeg Feature Animation. And a month before that, in January 2021, a prequel novel titled Nick was published by Michael Farris Smith, intended to tell the story of Gatsby narrator Nick Carroway. [1] So did pandemic reading remind everyone of their high school English novel? Not quite. Having been published in 1925, 2021 marked The Great Gatbsy’s 96th birthday, and the expiration of the 95 years US intellectual property law affords copyrighted works protection, meaning that the novel entered the public domain, a concept that reflects the true spirit of property law and presents interesting dilemmas surrounding the field as a whole.

T[1] he public domain is a rather straightforward term, referring to any work that for whatever reason lacks copyright protection. This typically occurs either when the work is ineligible for a copyright, or, in the topic at hand, the copyright has expired. Despite being designed to protect the rights of creators, there has always been a temporary aspect to said protection, and US law has always included guidance on how long it lasts. The regulations have changed throughout the years and remain complex, but the 95 years of protection is the most relevant in 2023, with all works published prior to 1928 currently available for adaptation, quotation, and free usage [2]. Newer legislation has declared any works published in 2002 and later protected for 70 years after the death of the author [3], more in spirit of the general idea of copyright expiry: that because creators do not last forever, their created works cannot be considered theirs forever. So once copyright expires, “writers and artists can mine the characters and plots of a work for their own purposes without having to ask permission or pay a fee” [4]. However the concept of usage under public domain, especially following expiry, is not as straightforward as it seems.

To understand what one can do with non-copyrighted works, it’s important to first understand what one can’t do with copyrighted ones, and why. Copyright law exists to motivate creatives to create things by promising exclusivity, a right to what one has created. People are legally barred from copying whatever one has made, enabling one to build a reputation and earn money. Of course direct copies are not the only things banned, if a singer writes a hit song and the next day someone decides to change one word and claim it as their own creation, it wouldn’t take a particularly good lawyer to block this from happening. This is easier to understand with concepts like music or writing, as it is simple to quantify the similarities between two works. However, it gets trickier with more abstract things like characters. West Virginia University School of Law professor S. Sean Tu explained in an interview that

“There's something called the Scène à Faire doctrine, which means that there are stock characters present in every story, like the comic relief character who's a bumbling buffoon, right? That's fair game to use, as long as you don't describe him or her in enough terms that breathes life into the character itself. If you've got a copyright on Harry Potter, does that mean that all boy wizards are copyrighted, or all stories with a wizard in it? No. But the closer you get to a boy wizard who fights an evil wizard that has seven lives, that looks a little bit closer. And if that boy wizard goes to Hogwarts, okay, that clearly is the expression that's protected." [5]

So when a work is copyrighted, the very core of the original idea is under protection, meaning any further usage of this has to come with the express approval of the copyright holder, typically for a fee. In order to produce the 2006 film The Da Vinci Code based on the 2003 novel of the same name, Columbia Studios paid author Dan Brown $6 million for the film rights [6]. The film was an undeniable financial success, grossing $760 million worldwide, and Dan Brown was appropriately credited for his role in its creation, even being credited as an executive producer on the film [7]. Creative expression was enabled, the proper people got their compensation, and everyone won, a perfect example of the spirit of copyright law. But just as important as protecting copyrighted works is protecting that which is not copyrighted. If everything was copyrighted forever, it would be difficult to create anything new without the argument that it was influenced to some degree by an existing idea or concept. Literary critic Northrop Frye articulates this well, quoted as saying that “Poetry can only be made out of other poems, novels out of other novels.”

Therefore, people are allowed and encouraged to put out new ideas without having to worry about infringing on a concept from ages ago they’ve never heard of, or even were subconsciously inspired by.

In Law and Literature, legal scholar and former federal judge Richard A Posner writes that under the test of “substantial similarity” that many courts use to determine copyright infringement,

“Romeo and Juliet itself would have infringed Arthur Brooke’s play The Tragicall Historye of Romeo and Juliet, published in 1562, which in turn would have infringed several earlier Romeo and Juliets, all of which might have infringed Ovid’s story of Pyramus and Thisbe—which in A Midsummer Night’s Dream Shakespeare staged as a play within the play: still another infringement of Ovid’s ‘copyright.’” [8]

This is an extreme example, but shows the extremities that the law could be used for if copyright law were allowed to run amok.  Tomas Lipinski, professor in the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee School of Information Studies, states that “Copyrights expire because a copyright is a limited monopoly under the law…The purpose of copyright is to benefit society, not reward authors alone” [5]. Besides stimulating creativity, the limited nature of copyrights increases accessibility to historical works, and minimizes the possibility of impossibly hard legal dilemmas. As previously mentioned, in the year 2023 all works published prior to 1928 have entered the public domain. However there are still many, many pieces of historically valuable creative work that were created post-1928, and because of the age of some of these pieces, they are covered by copyright but have no ascertainable copyright owner, making them what is considered “orphan works”. This is especially relevant to the case of film preservation, where copies of newsreels, documentaries, instructional films, and even some Hollywood studio productions, are being lost to the winds of time because they cannot be digitized due to copyright infringement, and there is no way of finding out who actually holds the copyright [9].

The public domain is just as important a concept to copyright law as copyright itself is. So by making copyrights temporary, it keeps the protections it offers in check and ensures that no one has the ability to abuse it. There’s no perfect amount of maximum time to set for copyrights, but striking the balance between safeguarding the author’s work and recognizing when the work culturally no longer belongs to the author is vital, and in some cases it is even essential to recognize that the work is needed for the betterment of the public. Because of the extremely long lengths of copyright protection (currently life plus 70 years for natural authors, and 95 years from publication for works of corporate authorship), it is highly unlikely that one will see any works from one’s lifetime enter the public domain, creating extra costs for libraries, educational facilities, and creatives, all for copyrights that no longer benefit anyone in particular. It’s an interesting debate more philosophical than objective, but one that should be guiding policy making for the coming future.

______________________________________________________________

[1] Dolan, Lindsey. “‘The Great Gatsby’ Entered the Public Domain a Year Ago - Here’s How Creators Are Reimagining It.” Bookstr, 10 Apr. 2022, bookstr.com/article/the-great-gatsby-entered-the-public-domain-a-year-ago-heres-how-creators-are-reimagining-it/

[2] “The Public Domain.” The Public Domain | UC Copyright, University of California, copyright.universityofcalifornia.edu/use/public-domain.html

[3] “Libguides: Copyright Services: Copyright Term and the Public Domain.” Copyright Term and the Public Domain - Copyright Services - LibGuides at Cornell University, Cornell University, guides.library.cornell.edu/copyright/publicdomain.

[4] Williams, John. “The ‘Great Gatsby’ Glut .” The New York Times, The New York Times, 14 Jan. 2021, www.nytimes.com/2021/01/14/books/the-great-gatsby-public-domain.html.

[5] Kiger, Patrick J. “What Does It Mean When a Book, Movie or Song Enters the Public Domain?” HowStuffWorks, HowStuffWorks, 18 Jan. 2023, people.howstuffworks.com/what-does-public-domain-mean.htm.

[6] Getlin, Josh. “As Film Nears, Publisher Goes Into ‘Da Vinci’ Mode.” Los Angeles Times, Los Angeles Times, 3 Apr. 2006, www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2006-mar-14-et-davinci14-story.html.

[7] “Dan Brown | Writer, Producer, Actor.” IMDb, IMDb.com, www.imdb.com/name/nm1467010/.

[8] Posner, Richard A. “Copyright, Plagiarism, and Creativity.” Law and Literature, 3rd ed., Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 2009, pp. 527.

[9] “Why the Public Domain Matters.” Center for the Study of the Public Domain, Duke Law, web.law.duke.edu/cspd/publicdomainday/2019/why/.

Image from https://copyright.universityofcalifornia.edu/use/public-domain.html#:~:text=No%20permission%20is%20needed%20to,and%20can%20be%20quoted%20extensively

[blisschi]

• Ocean of Feelings •

Pairing: Kaeya x Hanahaki! GN! Reader

Warnings: Modern AU, +3k words, Angst, Major Character Death, toxic relationship, blood, choking •

Notes: I hope Kaeya isn't too ooc. //HELP AFTER READING IT AGAIN BEFORE POSTING I SUDDENLY DON'T LIKE IT--

What does it feel like?

 

 "Kaeya!"

 

The sound of shoes innocently reflecting off the asphalt surface.  His little hand is lightly clamped on your wrist, pulling you into unknown for you regions.

"Kaeya ..! Where are we going?"  You asked, looking at the back of your friend's head.  Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew there was a big smile on it.  Kaeya was extremely excited to show you one of the places his father showed him recently.

 The boy stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into his back.  "O-ow--"

 "We are supposed to take our shoes off here."  He said, letting go of your hand to kneel down and neatly untie the laces of his shoes.

 You looked around to see that you almost made it to one of the nearby beaches. You've always loved the water, the sea.. the ocean.  - But there was something about it that made you feel a little uneasy.

 Although it is beautiful, you have never dared to see it with your own two eyes.

Though, why should it be surprising?  You were just a child.

 "I.. don't know if it's the best idea.. Mom is probably worried--"

 "Hurry! It gets cold here when it's late."  Kaeya set his boots aside to take off yours. "It's really uncomfortable when sand gets between your toes."

 You sighed softly, looking down at the top of his head.

 Kaeya knew how much you were drawn to the ocean.  Anyway, he was the one who showed you stories and pictures that looked amazing in the eyes of a child. - In your eyes.

 "Alright!-"

 "Kaeya! I'm scared.. I want to go home.." Tears appeared in your eyes and your lower lip trembled slightly - trying to hold back crying.  The boy got up from the ground and looked at your frightened expressions.  Why?  Why were you afraid of something you have long wanted to see?

 "[Y / N]. My dad always tells me to not be afraid because I have others! I have him, Diluc.. and you!"  His little hands gently cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the single tears that have fallen from your eyes.  "I have you. You have me. We protect each other."

 A loud sigh left your mouth once more.  - This time you tried to calm down. True, Kaeya has always been the one to get you a seat in the playground.. or the one to ask for two scoops of ice cream when you were afraid to speak up.

 When he's with you, everything will be fine.

You smiled slightly and nodded, bending to pick up your shoes.  Bravely holding them in one of your hands, you looked out to the sea.

 Kaeya took your hand lightly, once more and pulled you towards the shore - stopping only a meter from the water's edge.

 "Water here is cold, even though the sun shines on it all day long."  He said, turning his head towards you.  One step was enough for his feet to sink into the water.  "I wonder how it is here in winter.. Must be freezing! Do you think water is frozen during Christmas?"

 As the boy continued, your gaze was focused on the horizon.  You haven't seen the other side of the land.  - As if it didn't exist at all.

 "Huge.." You whispered, drawing your friend's attention to you.  "Incredibly.. huge... Just as it was described in the book!"

 There were sparks of excitement and admiration in your eyes.  This is the first time you've seen something this big.  Kaeya laughed softly and pulled you towards him - that's how your feet met the water too.

 "Cold!"  You screamed, instinctively pushing the boy away, hard enough that Kaeya fell into the water.  "Kaeya!"

 You were afraid if something happened to him. In an instant, your eyes seemed to tear up again, but instead of, as you though, Kaeya's cries - all you heard was a sincere laugh.

 "I told you it's cold! Haha!"

 Your cheeks flushed as you realized the boy was okay.  "I-I didn't expect it to be tha-- Aah!!"

 Instantly, Kaeya grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him.  The cool waves gently wrapped around your bodies. All you wanted to do at this point was to yell at him and say that your parents would be very unhappy, but when you heard his childish laugh again - You couldn't help, but start laughing as well.

 "I will take you here every month, [Y / N]!"

 

 It is a promise then.

 "Till we see the frost?? I can't believe that all of this water is going to be frozen.."

 

 Please, keep it.

 

 It feels like someone stuffed me full of flower petals that float around my lungs all day.  It feels like I'm choking on my own feeling, like I'm drowning in my own desire.

 

 "Haah.. Looks like water didn't freeze this year as well.."

 Severe, not many years have passed. You and Kaeya attend to the same school together. both of you always stay close to each other.

 "Diluc told me that ocean never gets frozen."  Kaeya looked at you and with one hand took the backpack off his back while throwing it on the sand carelessly.

 "Kaeya! You shouldn't go into the water!"  You called out to the boy as he started walking towards the shore. "It's cold!"

 Kaeya smiled slightly as he dipped his feet into the water.

 "I was prepared for something cooler."

 

 I've been sick since we were kids, yet the mind of a child is too innocent.. to understand what truly love means.

 

 The following years passed too quickly.  Before you knew it, two of you had to go to the high school.  Fate yet, wanted high school to the the place that separate you.

 You tried to spend as much time as possible with him.  You devoted all your afternoons, evenings, weekends, and all your free time to him.  Sometimes you felt like the male was distancing yourself from you. He met new people, new interests... it was all beyond your reach.

 Were it not for your promise from years ago, you would have thought Kaeya had lost interest in you long ago.

 Snowflakes fell and covered the beach like a blanket, a white curtain.

 "Do you remember when we though that.. the water in the sea can actually get frozen?"  You laughed as you tried to start any sort of conversation with him.  Kaeya looked at the horizon for a moment, then his gaze returned to the phone screen.  "Now as I think about it.. it was quite silly.."

 Kaeya tucked the phone into his back pocket and grabbed your hand snugly.

 "But we did have fun back then, remember?~" He laughed and pulled you towards the water.  Despite your screams of protest that it is cold, that you will be sick - the boy threw you into the water without hesitation.

 "Hhn - Kaeya !! D-do you think it's funny?!"  You screamed, and the only response you got was a quiet chuckle.  Although you fell into the water only with your legs, your body was covered with chills, making you immediately run away from the shore.

 "Aw.. Come on. Can't handle the cold?"  He joked as he walked over to your shaky form.  In one move he took off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders.  "Here. Didn't know you were such a warm-blood."

 You rolled your eyes, turning your head away from him.  Does he also push his other friends into the water?  Should you feel special that he was offering you a coat?  It's nothing.. Every time you meet, every moment - is spent by him on the phone.  Who is he chatting with?

 "Kaeya.. I--" You broke off mid-sentence, a strangled cough escaped your throat.  Your lungs hurt.

 "Hah? Did you get sick already? So fragile."  He sighed and wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you away from the sea.

 

 Maybe if I noticed earlier, my heart wouldn't shatter like a glass.  My lungs wouldn't bloom like a flower fields we used to visit during those careless childhood years.

 

 It's been months since Kaeya hasn't shown up.  Of course, your contact wasn't completely broken.  You kept writing with each other online and sometimes even went out together.  Visiting the seaside has become something forgotten to him.. although maybe it was you, that did not know how to let go of the past.

 It was almost winter.  The atmosphere was getting colder day by day, but the fall didn't quite seem to go away just yet.

 You put one hand over your mouth to hide your choking cough.  A simple disease - the average person would think.  Hanahaki disease was not popular enough, hardly anyone suffered from it.  You found out that you were a victim of thus disease a few months ago when flower petals first came out of your mouth.  Blue like ocean.

 So you looked for a solution.  The first thing you did was do an internet search - but the things you found broke your heart even more.

 So she has to love me?  You knew your childhood friend was quite happy with his current life. He has found his significant other, he has friends, and his studies are going well.  Who are you to destroy it all?

 In some moment you started to think that maybe it's be better to never be friends with him, at all.

 I don't even want to love anymore.. - You used to say to yourself every time more petals got stuck in your throat, taking away your air supply.  The second option would be surgery to remove the flowers, but then you would forget about Kaey and everything you had in common.  You would forget about a feeling, a promise, the sea. You would rather not live than live without it.

 So you accepted your death, but you tried to delay it as much as possible and spend this time with the male.  Of course, Kaeya knew nothing.

 You learned that there was a special type of tea that numbs the pain and reduces coughing - without hesitating, you decided to get it.  No matter how much time you have left.  Kaeya can't find out.

 You took your phone out of your pocket and looked at the message on the screen.

 [Y / N], I won't be on the beach today.  My girl wanted me to come over, but don't worry.  Let's hang out tomorrow.

 You stared at the display for a moment, reading the words he had written over and over again.  The only thing that stopped you was the tear drop that suddenly hit the screen.

 

 It hurt.

 

 Your hand clenched into a fist, and your knees buckled under your own weight.  Covering your face, you allowed yourself a moment of weakness and, crying, regretfully shouted out to the waves, believing that they would give you an answer.  - "Why did the world made me experience heart break this way?!"

 

 Maybe if I noticed earlier, I'd have time.. to stop myself from loving you.

 

 The next day, as promised - Kaeya met you in the nearby cafe. You associated this place with the best days of childhood, when it was enough to stay under a cozy blanket to feel safe.  Safe - this is how you could describe this place.

 You could smell coffee and various cakes in the air.  You'll miss their taste.

 "E-ekhn--" A muffled cough left your throat once again.  Kaeya glanced at you surreptitiously and raised one eyebrow upward.

 "You've been having coughing fits recently, you're okay?"

 Your only response was a quick nod of your head.

 "I'm okay! It's just a cough."  You laughed and covered your mouth with a hand, the other one reaching into your bag.  "You know that I get sick very easily.."

 Perhaps Kaeya could feel the lie in your voice, but it didn't cross his mind that you might suffer of love.  It took you a moment to dig a small packet of tea out of your bag.  Herb - as you liked to call it.

 "Hm? Didn't know you're into herbs.~" Kaeya teased you and, placing his elbow on the table, he leaned on hid palm.

 "Excuse me? Can I take your order?"  The sweet voice of the waitress interrupted the conversation you had just begun.  You thanked her in your heart, because you don't know how would you be able to explain to Kaeya keeping tea bags with you wherever you go.

 "Two cappuccino-"

 "No. I'll take just a glass of water.. if it's possible."

 Kaeya sneaked a glance at you, but didn't comment on your choice. You were always a little unpredictable, even as a kid, so he just chose to ignore it.

 The rest of the meeting passed fairly calmly.  The drink was a relief, Kaeya finwlly reminded you of the boy from the old days, and for a moment you thought that maybe you would have a chance to return to normal after all.

 Until his phone rang.  A girl who seemed to be immensely furious that her boyfriend was seeing someone else.

 

 I hope you never feel the way I do.

 CRASH

 "Why aren't you working?!"  Your desperate voice filled the room.  Your body in the center, flower petals around you.  "Why?!"

 Tea has long ceased to bring you comfort.  It has long lost the taste that helped you satisfy your emotions.

 Your heart ached, your lungs burned.  Your throat stung, but nothing compared to the feeling that was eating you up inside.

 Heavy sobs escaped from your mouth, your tears ran down your red with anger and sadness cheeks.

 "A-am I going to die unwanted?"  You asked without counting on an answer. after all, you already knew it.

 

 What does it feel like?

 

 You've been visiting clubs pretty often lately.  Kaeya was only able to exchange text messages with you because of hid relationship, sometimes both of you made short phone calls, but that's it.

 You had to find a way to help you deal with the pain - so in addition to trying the herbs constantly, believing that they would eventually start working again. You helped yourself with alcohol.

 The coughing attacks seemed to tire you more and more.  You didn't try to hide it anymore, there was no one from whom.  There was no point in trying at all.

 

 It feels like I'm drowning.

 

 Knock knock

 

 Kaeya knocked on your door, his eyes focused on the doorknob in front of him.  When you didn't answer, he thought you were offended by what had happened in the past weeks.

 However, Kaeya is here to sort it all out.

 "[Y / N]? I know I've been a jerk."  He started, sighing.  "I didn't really notice when the relationship between me and my girlfriend got toxic and tense."

 No answer.

 "We broke up yesterday, can you believe? She wanted me to delete your number."  Kaeya pulled the handle and to his surprise, the door was open. 

"[Y / N]?"

The male went inside and carefully searched all rooms. The house was empty.  The adrenaline hit him suddenly, forcing him to act instinctively.

 Someone kidnapped you?  Where are you?  Where could you go?

 Why?

 Kaeya searched most of the places he thought he might find you.  There is only one left - your favorite.

 It was almost the end of winter. The moon had just risen, saying goodbye to another day.  Kaeya ran towards the beach as if his life depended on it.

His feet met the sand and he saw.  - you.  Your person on one of the benches, near the shore.  Head turned towards the water.

 "[Y / N]!"

 Your eyes widened.

 "Kaeya ..?"

 Don't let him see me like this..

 Blood stained your clothes, hands and mouth.  You turned your head towards him, the breath in his throat stopped when he saw your state.

 Dry tears on your cheeks, reddened eyes.  Why?

 Kaeya wasted no time taking you to the hospital.  No matter what you were sick with - you immediately needed a specialists.

He took you there despite your screams and crying, despite the words that you want to stay in the place that was extremely important to you.  Kaeya thought it was just gibberish, caused by illness.

 Doctors decided on an operation - extraction of flowers.  However, your case was so serious that they were not sure if you'd survive.

 Kaeya stared straight ahead in front of the surgery room.  When one of the doctors opened the door, the male immediately looked up to see his emotionless gaze.

 

 It feels like I'm drowning..

"Sir.. The operation was a success since we managed to extract the flowers, however.." The man took a deep breath.  "..patient died on the operating table."

 Kaeya's lips twitched, but his expression did not change.  His head suddenly lost all thoughts, and all that remains in his memory are the words he wanted to say to you today.

 

I think that's you I'd like to be with.

 

 Like I'm sinking in the ocean of hurtful feelings.

[queerlyloud]

It's finally Spoopy Season again, so I would like to offer up just a few of my favorite Spoopy WLW stories. I'll do two for each type of media. 👭🎃👻

Please note: I will NOT be including trigger warnings for this list. I am putting it together because I want to provide a useful resource but I am not cataloging these works and I definitely won't be including any kind of professional reviews. I just want to offer up some Stories I Like, and if you're interested in any of them, you can do further research on your own. :)

🌸TERFS can Fuck Off 🌸

First, Podcasts! I looooove podcasts this time of year, they do so much for queer horror fans!

1. Mabel

This podcast is one of my ALL TIME FAVORITES, I listen to it over and over again because it does the Fae as the eldritch horror creatures they are but also the romantic and often tragic figures they are and, most of all, as Not Human, and I just... deeply appreciate the entire aesthetic of this show. It is told through a series of voicemails left by two women trying to reach each other across impossible boundaries and I am just so here for it. 😭💕

2. Alice Isn't Dead

This podcast is soooo creepy, but it also explores grief and loss and what it means to go on afterwards. Told through radio transmissions from Kesha, a long-haul trucker out looking for the wife who had been pronounced dead, only to show up on a random news broadcast months later, and then again and again, always at the scene of some unbelievable atrocity. The story follows Kesha's journey as she tries to work through the betrayal of being left to mourn by the one she'd once trusted most and solve the mystery of what exactly had led her wife to abandon their home after more than a decade of building it together.

Next, my favorite Spoopy WLW shows! These give me so many feelings, and they are wildly different but I like them, and this is my list, so. 😌

1. Killing Eve

I KNOOOOOWWWW, alright, I KNOW it isn't technically a Spoopy Season pick, but it IS an awesome psychological horror (my favorite kind 🥰) which revolves around the twisted and complicated relationship between two women who are each, in their own ways, deeply fascinated, even obessessed with murder and death, and in their pursuit of it, end up becoming equally obsessed with each other. This show makes me so happy because it is unapologetically horrific but also somehow beautiful. I always think of this as the WLW Hannibal, and I stand by that. If you've ever hung out with mlm and also wlw, you'll know what I mean.

2. The Haunting of Bly Manor

This one is so soft! It has so many feelings and I would argue that there is only one (maybe one and a half) genuinely scary characters in the entire thing, which I know makes it almost not qualify for horror wlw, but it has the horror stuff in it (ghosts, murders, and creepy kids, oh my!) This one is my comfort spoop, so if you're looking for something a little less intense this Spoopy Season, this may be the watch for you. I watch it whenever I wanna let myself feel Big, Soft Feelings but also be vaguely creeped out, and also wanna look at lots of pretty ladies doing pretty lady things. All I have to say is:

🥰😍💖 Carla Gugino 💖 😍🥰

Finally, books! I'm going to rec a couple of books that I've either never or almost never seen recced. We all know about Gideon the Ninth (go read it 💕), but these books are ones that really did it for me when I read them and both of them were books I took a chance on and didn't regret it.

1. The Haunting of Heatherhurst Hall by Sebastian Nothwell

I've already written an actual review for this lesbian Gothic horror (I am using the word lesbian on purpose here, because it is the word the author used to describe it and it is important for textual context). This book is so gruesome and macabre and psychologically horrifying and simultaneously ethereal and grounded in the way it presents the story, a reflection of the characters of the two leads, as they are dragged into the tangled web of the seemingly cursed Heatherhurst Hall and the twisted ties of the bonds they've built with each other. If you love Gothic horror, old black and white movies, or scary lesbians, this is the story for you! Just be warned, this story is definitely not for the squeamish.

2. Women of the Dark Streets: Lesbian Paranormal edited by Radclyffe and Stacia Seaman

Hoo, buddy, this one is a MASSIVELY mixed bag. It is a collection of lesbian short stories, sometimes erotic, sometimes not, sometimes unabashedly horrific, sometimes softer. Some stories are phenomenal, some are terrible, and some are in between, but for me, the ones I loved have stuck with me for years. I DNF several of the stories, but I also read and reread some of them over and over again. Definitely visit Goodreads to get a feel for which stories sound right for you before just diving in, because a few are definitely triggering. I love horror that doesn't apologize for being horror, so this book held a lot of appeal for me, and if that's your jam, it might be an awesome chance for you to find some new favorite short stories, too. I'll say it again just in case, though, this might be one to miss if you're squeamish.

So there are my Spoopy WLW reccs for this Spoopy Season. Idk if anyone will read this, or if I just wasted an hour of my life writing a long post no one will ever see, but either way, it was a fun thing to do and if it helps even one other person, I think I'll call it good. Wishing all of you the very best Halloween. 🧡🎃👻

[strangerthings4theories]

I don't know if you have noticed, but given the monster that is apparently in season 4 (Vecna), Billy has some interesting connections to it.

There are two artifacts iconic to this monster: his Eye and his Hand.

He has superhuman strength in season 3. Way more powerful than the average person. And most of the time use brute force through his hands to try to win or acheive something.

And if you go back and watch the ending of episode 6 in season 3 when Flayed Billy traps El in another cabin, his eyes have a faint glow in them throughout the whole scene. As well as his reaction when he realises who El is in episode 3 of season 3 after she came to investigate about Heather.

Vecna is also referenced as "The Undying King". 😉

Just wanted to let you know since I am working on a little something of mine.

Yes, I did notice! I've been very intrigued by Vecna. I would love to read more about him soon. I did notice the bit about his Eye and his Hand, I hadn't connected that to Billy though. Now that you've pointed it out, it gives me Billy vs his Dark Reflection vibes.

You're right to point out Billy uses his hands as weapons. He was already inclined to do so (see: S2 E9), but the Mind Flayer seizes on that and uses it for His own ends. (See: my post on the Lion vs the Ninja, where I point out the brutality of the Mind Flayer's approach in S3)

Personally, I'm not sure we can describe Billy's eyes as glowing in S3 E6. He does have tears in his eyes, which gives them a slight sheen. I hesitate to say that has any meaning beyond telling us Billy's emotional state (he is NOT having a good time!! 🙃). That said, the Mind Flayer's speech in that scene is all about seeing. "You shouldn't have looked for me, because now I see you. Now we can all see you." So, honestly, we don't need Billy's eyes to literally glow. The dialogue points to the Eye of Vecna already.

I love that Vecna is called the "Undying King." As you know, I would call Billy the same thing. 😉

As for how to interpret this connection... like I mentioned above, it gives me Billy vs his Dark Reflection vibes. The Mind Flayer tends to use certain approaches and weapons in His quest to conquer the world. Billy, as the Upside Down's redeemed Prince, will use those same weapons against the Mind Flayer. Fighting fire with fire. 🔥

Stranger Things loves the theme of reflections, both light and dark. I have several posts on this:

Billy's Doppelganger: A Back Door Into Understanding ST

The Road To Eddie Munson: How I Predicted His Character In ST

Mirror Images: Billy And El Are Reflections of Each Other

So I'm not surprised to see a connection springing up between Billy and Vecna. We'll probably see similar connections between Vecna and El and Will moving forward. (Because Billy, El, and Will are all connected) We already have at least one connection between Vecna and Will: Will has True Sight, the ability to see.

[yostresswritinggirl]

The One The Bard Once Loved

NEW Vibe check (appropriate song to cry to while reading)

"The bard, the sprite, the archer. The trio of young dreamers that wish to witness the blue skies past the raging winds that lock their freedom. But those are more than mere dreams, for it requires the sacrifice of those you love, to grace the courage to fight a God. And Barbatos, poor Barbatos, sacrificed more than he wanted."

Pairings -> Venti x Fem!Reader x Bard (Gale)

Word Count -> 4,337

Theme -> Angst, Backstory, Long Fic

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Spoilers to Venti's story, character death

"Oh little sprite, from whence beyond

Does thou reminiscent of a vagabond?

Curious to which it whisks upon

Trapped now in desolate, forlorn"

Venti the wind sprite had always been curious, the single whisk of air that always goes the opposite way, hanging behind from his fellow currents to be distracted by a curious thing. So it was no surprise to anyone that he had gone lost once more in their rounds swaying but when he'd not return, long ago has his current passed the nation of Mond. Yet there was no way he can fly by his family of winds, for he finds himself trapped within the walls of a grazing storm that cages the stone walls of the city, of winds that he could not control nor agitate.

No matter how hard he tries the wind does not part, and so little Venti was stuck inside brooding skies and angry blasts. No mere sprite can go against the mighty strength of an archon.

So he resigns to his fate and wanders in this new place. Of a city wide and barren, why dare the Decarabian hide such dwelling? And even with the raging howls of the walls of wind, Venti couldn't help but wonder the silence it traps within.

A tiny ball of white in an expanse of gray. The thought scares the little sprite enough to make him scurry for the smallest bit of sound he can decipher. The loneliness creeps into his core—

And his little body bumps into that of a soft material. "Oh! Goodness, one should not run off without looking like that-" the figure turns and finds itself face to face with a floating blob, deep blue eyes wide and mouth hangs with wonder. Venti recognizes this creature in one of his endeavors as the wind, a human being, the true wanderers of Teyvat. Yet what is one doing trapped? "Such a peculiar being! What could you be?"

Yet it is not frightened by Venti's rarity, well, given he is not the most frightening wonder in this continent this was no surprise.

The sprite did not mind being found out. No, no, quite the opposite honestly, as he flies closer to the young boy and hides in his upturned hood. Nuzzling against the junction in his neck as he expresses gratitude in the company and presence of another in this desolate world.

The young boy chuckles and it reminds him of a song. "Perhaps you do not understand what I spoke?" The sprite shakes its head and the ticklish spot is tickled again. "Or do you not know how to speak?" A nod. And another giggle.

Without another word, the human slips back into the alleys of winding yet thin roads before making his way inside what looks to be a cathedral of tall composition. Glass windows of the same length tinted in kaleidoscopic patterns of color. There is a light in them you would usually bask in during the 'outside world', but in here it replicates that of an oasies in the deserts of Sumeru.

Underneath the artificial haze it beams a seeming spotlight at a figure clad in a dark ebony cloak. Venti felt the vibrations of an elated gasp as the human rushed over with a smile and frantic waving.

"My fair muse, how you've brighten my day, bestowing your presence tonight!"

The cloak tenses before immediately relaxing, the 'muse' he speaks of turns with its loose hood falling as it bundled around the shoulders, and Venti the sprite couldn't help but gasp too at the sight!

Fair is lacking, no words can describe the essence of bloom and beauty at the beholder as you stood there almost sparkling, hair catching the twinkle of light. Your plum lips caught itself smiling yet your eyes twinkled double the amusement at the sight of the human before you, "Gale." You murmured with an undertone of annoyance as you trudged over, flicking the boy's forehead so suddenly he'd voiced his hurt loudly. "Where have you been?! You've never been late to our daily rendezvous, you had me worried-!"

"Oh, such a cutie when you worry!" The young boy, Gale, cupped your cheeks in the middle of your spiel as he softly pats it with his fingers. Venti had never seen such creature change colors as fast as you, not even a chameleon, or an octopus in hiding. "I've simply found a new companion while I was out and about!"

As if a spotlight was caught unto him this time, your blown eyes wandered to the sprite floating by your company's neck. And oddly he'd found the attention appreciated.

"Who is this? An elf?"

"Venti!" There was a distant jingle of imaginary bells in his squeak of a voice.

"It/You can talk?!"

(Y/N) Lawrence.

Gale the Bard.

Venti the El- Wind Sprite.

Gale was a bard that resides in the cathedral of Mondstadt, homeless and without blood and kin, the nuns had took him in and lead their choir in turn for their hospitality.

You, on the other hand, lived with a clan of hunters that once ruled the mountains and forests. But with the emergence of the inescapable walls of wind, your family had been on the forefront of the protection of the citizens.

There were a lot of struggles in communication between you two and the lil sprite. He only knows his name and how to copy words (not so fluently) so questions had to be foregone, teaching the little one took priority. And Gale being the weaver of words took it upon himself to teach him frequently as you had your duties and family to go to.

Venti would sometimes disappear for a majority of the time and you'd figured he finally found a way to pass through the winds without shredding himself among the blades of current. And then he'd pop back in to listen to the merry tunes Gale had come up with, both of them waiting for your return.

"Ah Venti, is she not a beauty? The youngest daughter of Lawrence, as divine as that of incense. Oh tell me those dotted eyes could see it too!" The little sprite eagerly nods as he follows the bard's stride across the aisles in the holy cathedral, once again barren of other souls except for them. Whenever his human friend finds time to muse, it would be most about the maiden he fancies, the muse of most of his songs. Venti had been captured by his delicate tunes and savory lines to the point that he too had been overly enticed by your grace when your presence shines.

Your strength, your smile, your laugh, your hair. Your gait, your poise, your eyes, your glare. You had caught their stares dozens of times in silence before and it was always up to you to put them back to present time.

Venti simply basked in your warming aura and indulges himself outwardly, often you'd find him dozing off on the crown of your head. And often times you'd find a little pout on Gale at such a sight that you had no choice but to tease. In those moments, the wind sprite knew he had come out triumphant.

The cathedral doors open as quickly as they had closed, your windswept and frantic form appearing from the storm outside. The two boys in your life immediately lit up on your appearance but you'd know most of it was directed at the numerous scrolls and books you currently cradle in your shivering arms.

You offered them a grin, one of victory, and you'd all cheered at your success.

Soon, your merry trio made its way to the second floor of the cathedral in front of a faraway hallway that looks over the vast floor of the first yet still had the glow from the looming illuminated glass windows. Beholden in front of you are illustrations of a world beyond, filled with colors and shine, a world you had only imagined from stories now pictured perfectly.

Venti would hover over the illustrations at random intervals and giddily point at some of those he recognized, squeaking incoherent noises yet reflecting happiness and familiarity. While you fancied with indulging the sprite in his incomprehensible stories, Gale sat beside you with adoring yet distant eyes upon the images laid before him. Looking through them, and projecting himself in such a world. The books of the outside world you'd stolen from your clan's sacred libraries will be the start of a spark of desire to be free. And with it the start of a new era.

"The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...

Were they not wishes worth fighting for?"

Long had you gone and abandoned your stolen goods for them to admire more, at least until the day your clan finally realized the missing materials in the vast expanse of the bookshelves they own. There was more to marvel at yet you feared if you linger longer, your sister would look for you and find your little crime all too soon.

Venti quietly watches the familiar illustration of a beach littered with creatures of the sea on its glittering sand before he'd lift his tiny head up, witnessing the intense stare his bard friend had on the scroll where lies an overgrown tree and a stone structure. The sprite noted he had not seen this one.

"How marvelous it would be, to celebrate the most joyous moments under this tree," Gale mumbled in a quiet lilt of longing in his voice, "Imagine (Y/N) and I, with you by my side, as I finally pluck the courage to get down on one knee." Venti bumbled in slight jealousy, buzzing in front of the bard that could only cast a laugh. "Oh hush, dear friend, is it not appropriate to take an arrow to the knee for an archer such as she?"

Yet even with his desire to be by your side, the little sprite knew that he would be there to support his friend for the happiness you two deserved. In a land where you are free. Still, Venti hopes his cuteness would be enough to prolong you just a little bit more.

Drunk in passion and dreams, the next day the bard was scheming. And when you'd come to his cathedral of a home, he finally poured out his plans to you with a Venti quipping with cheers on the side.

The Mondstadtian had predicted your hesitance, even your disapproval on the notion, and were ready to chip in to persuade you once more— yet you gave in. Immediately. The same fire burned in your eyes at the thought of being unshackled and caged from the world begging to be explored. Your sentiments together with the bard fueled the desire between you three, and through the brainpower of a trio of young minds, you had drawn your plans.

Gale aided by Venti would try and coerce with the Ragnvindr clan's leader, and you would work on convincing your eldest sister Amos for the help needed to coerce the whole Lawrence bloodline into the battle. You knew there was an undeniable hatred within her against Decarabian and you wanted her to fuel that fire once and for all, for one great cause.

And soon enough, the strings of fate had come into play, and the one who shall record this momentous history has taken its seat by the balcony of war. Only the last piece of the puzzle is left in this grandoise play—

"Gale, Venti, are you sure this is the right direction to the hideout? We're taking a route longer than usual, surely you're not making last minute pranks..."

Your bow smacks at your back as you made your way inside the dark closet. It was two cycles before the fated ambush would come and in your nerves you had not realized how amiss things had been for the others. You were more than ready even if your fingers were to tremble everytime it holds your bow and arrow, predictions of the war that shall come floats within the expanse of your mind.

In your limited vision, your bard friend and sprite shared a look that did not pass by you. The tension had only caused you to gulp in your nervousness, were you found out? Did the participants of the revolt suddenly back down? "There has been a change of plans, but worry not for history still pans. My Muse, it is best you stay to assure you will not be caught in the storm's disarray-"

A hand flew across the bard's pristine white skin and his dark ocean hues could not help but widen. Is he... telling you to not participate in the war?! What kind of— a sob left through your gritted teeth despite your best efforts, and you're not sure who was more broken between your friends upon the sight. "How could you, even think- Gale, you carry no arms but a lyre! And Venti still has no means to go against the Archon that controls the winds! What kind of absurd idea is this?!" In the middle of your rage, your friends had already wrapped you in their sentimental hug, expressing their own misery with free-flowing tears." I'm supposed to protect you... t-the three of us were supposed to lead the path of freedom..."

"You've always protected us, (Y/N). Now would be the best time... to return the favor," and as your friend stepped back to give a parting smile, your whole world suddenly engulfed in black as the door shut with a slam and a final lock.

"Gale! Venti! No, please no! Let me out! Don't do this, PLEASE!"

"Please hear us out, our dear (Y/N)," Gale leaned his forehead against the thick door that separates you two, shedding the last bit of tears he could muster before the end of an era. The desperation in your every bang against it, breaks apart a hole in his own heart, "For your own good, and your own future."

When Gale described love to the little Venti, the latter was certain that he felt the same way for you. Yet the human ever so jokingly laughed at how he was still too young to fully understand the implications of such words. But he desired just as much to protect you, to be by your side, and to see your smile. But the human was right for he did not truly understand the reasons WHY he felt like so...

So he asked instead, dear friend Gale of Tales, why have you come to cherish this human in devotion? And quite so the other was happy to indulge!

"It starts with young Mondstadt when the walls were young and the people still knew the tales and what they sang. I was a poor little bard with a broken lyre, when living alone was nothing but dire.

Without a home, without a bed, I was ready to starve to death. But an angel clad in white suddenly lead me to bright light. My muse had brought to me a cathedral, yes the one we are in now! And since then I've lived a proper choir life, always wondering how...

just how things would be without (Y/N), my angel? Continuing to live in the dark alleys, would I have been able? Even now I have yet to repay her act of kindness. But one day, for sure... " Perhaps, this act the young boy now follows, was the payment he had been waiting for.

How long you had stayed there, you had no clue but by the sounds of war cries and clashing steel had told you enough. You'd been there for too long.

Blessed with some luck that a crowbar had found its way in this janitor closet in a cathedral no less, you had immediately set out to join the battle: beyond the holy doors flames had lit up from the torches the revolt has carried, many bodies lay by the stone grounds of the city, some moving and struggling while some... you spare them not a second thought as you rushed past the stone pillars to where the heat of the war should be. If the battle plan had gone as it should then—

A hand gripped your arm with such force it had you cry out before you even registered you were being slammed to the floor. A shadow of a knight that serves the God of Storm looms over you with a glare blazing past his helmet. "You're one of them, I recognize that face! You're not winning today-" yet another blade suddenly pierced through his chest, and your shirt had been splattered when it was pulled. The now lifeless body falls past you and another replaces him.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" The knight shared the same shock and relief you wore before it steeled, immediately pulling you up and away from the on-going exchanges of blows. "Everyone- how's the war looking?"

"Men had fallen from the green-tipped arrows, but we are making progress," the redhead gestured to the tower where the greatest enemy lies, taking note of the cracks and crumbling structure, a sign of his coming doom. A very good sign. "Amos took it upon herself to climb the tower-"

"What?! That's beyond the plan, she- she could get herself killed!" You brought your own bow from your back at the mention of your sister archer, bringing the strings back with an arrow at the ready, your intention clear. The redhead had shown a glint of worry but his gaze had been resolved once again at the hope of freedom, and he leaves you to your chase as he fends off the guards that dare go after you.

You expertly evaded blows and parried kicks with your bow and arrow, yet no sign of the heads of the resistance had caught your sight. The longer you climbed, the more you feared for the worst. By 2/3 of the tower you had scaled you managed to poke your head out to see the scale of war. Of red and orange floated below as the razor winds felt more violent than it had been ever since you had been born within its impenetrable walls, even from this distance high up you could still hear the clash, the warmongers held up in the central square where all battles now takes place.

And within that chaos you managed to single out a lump of black and a dot of floating white. Miraculously, your scream had reached their faraway ears and looked up, just in time to see your aerial shots of support.

"(Y/N)?! What is she-!" His words had been cut with an arrow wheezed past his head to bring down a foe that had sneaked behind him. Right, battle. Many of the immediate threats had been neutralized and the resistance had found the upper ground thanks to the archer's barrage. "How-how is she up there!"

Another body had fallen next to him with a cut on its back, a certain knight rushing past him to hit another. "Watch your back, bard! Now's not the time to monologue, she's going to backup Amos."

You were too far to hear the horrified gasp and the fearful expression your two faithful friends adorned. But the ground you were on began to shake, and you know you had to go on. "Venti! Gale! Focus, I'll be there with you two soon!" You screamed at the top of your lungs in hopes that it will reach them before continuing your ascent to the most treacherous area you had to be in—

You barelled towards the woman with silver hair with a pace you've never seen and a strength you'd never thought you carried, exchanging the shot you felt lodge into your left side as you sent one right through the guard's neck. You fell on your bottom and clutched the wounded area, but kept it there, if not to make sure the blood does not pour if you were to take it out.

"Sister!" The familiar voice cradled you as gently as she could with a fear-stricken face. But you assured her that it had not hit anything major, the way her worry didn't dissipate seem to hide a kind of anguish she couldn't name. "We must get you to safety, the clerics- the clerics could-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you grunted as you pried yourself out of her grasp to prove your point, still able to keep your stance. You see Amos struggle from fatigue yet about to bite back, "We're so close, sister, any moment we linger is another body on the list of deaths." Painfully she'd bitten on her own tongue, finally relenting as you ascended the last few steps.

Normal arrows are nothing but toothpicks against the mighty God of Storms, the Anemo Archon, who easily flicked your futile attempts to graze him. And yet Decarabian was losing power just from fighting off not only your barrages but those even from below. His walls were thinning and his heart crumbles, from the thought of his once devoted followers turning back on him.

With one last strength the Lawrences gathered every piece of energy and power they could into their shot, and Decarabian looked at them with tired eyes and a raised hand. "Finally, I shall hold his gaze." The voice next to you spoke before your charged shot, swirling with beaming light flew past the sharp gale of wind and pierced through the God's core. Your ears had picked up on a violent crack before you were hit by the razor breeze upon the dying breath of the archon, sending you and Amos off the crumbling tower to free fall to your deaths.

In the edge of your peripherals the bleak gray walls of storms dissolved into rays of natural light, giving way to a hue of blue you had never seen before. As the wind wheezed past your ears, you smiled at the face of death—

When a jingle of little bells suddenly slowed your descension, and you were softly met with the hard floor on your back. With tired eyes you'd found yourself next to the pioneers of freedom, conscious and unconscious. You had felt Venti nudge your hand to those of another's limp ones, soft palms yet calloused fingers, you intertwined your hands with that of the bard's.

"We did it, we finally... did it..." A pulling force drains the consciousness from your mind and body in laboured breaths, and despite your protests to keep staring at the beautiful sight of the true sky, your eyelids were pulled shut by an unknown exhaustion.

Past their closed state, a flash of light was the last thing you had thought. Bruised and beaten, your warm hand did not register how the ones you clung to... did not squeeze back.

...

The next time (e/c) orbs flew open their eyes the world felt that of a lucid dream, with silk of the cleanest white donned their body, and the softest breeze of a sweet flower you had not smelt passes by you. Teal orbs looked down at you with a gentleness you've felt from the artificial light from the cathedral. Speaking of- your eyes unfocused shifted its gaze to the light blue skies.

"You're... awake." Your bard friend breathed out in disbelief and another emotion your brain can't quite place. The cotton of clouds float above in painted beauty, and you had pried your sight away from it almost painfully just to spare your companion a look.

"It's..." your throat grated and ached at the attempt, coming out so weak and breathless, "It's very beautiful... out here, free... Have- have you gone to explore?" Your face twisted in numbing pain from talking, and the bard started to quiver yet stood strong with a smile.

"I had, it's - it's just like how we imagined, even better than we've taken for granted," wet spots adorned your cheeks in short successions, you couldn't help but smile. "I only wish you were there to see it first hand, the flowers, the sunsets, the land-"

"Yet I fell asleep," you laughed in mirth yet there was no sound that escaped. The grip around you tightens as you loll your head to the side; there lays a new city kissed by the huge orb of light in the blue veil of a sky, lush green grass of health you've never seen before shone with a moistness on it, and around its glory lays a beauty of a moat that mirrors the one above. Beautiful, you whispered under your long-awaited breathe.

"The people of Mond had done their best to rebuild, for the promise of freedom they had not wilt," a hand on your cheek, flawless, urged your gaze once more to lay upon the bard. "We've devised a festival to celebrate named Ludi Harpastum. Tell me... my muse, will you accompany me in this new custom?"

A new breeze had lulled you in your ears once again to sleep, and a flash of fear had passed over your companion's features before it dissipated when you opened your eyes once more. A festival, you haven't heard that in years, "I would love to. But maybe... tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow."

"Mhm, I feel tired... the sun invites me to sleep, will you wait for me tomorrow?"

"T-Tomorrow."

"Good." Your eyes were covered by darkness again as you felt a pressure against your forehead. "It's... a date..." And your tired heart finally found peace, after battling for 15 days restlessly, desperately.

Venti picked you up from where you laid on his lap, setting you down on the grass bed besides the giant roots of the Windrise tree. Nearest your left, a stone plate carved with words you never dare see lies next to you. And for the first time in fifteen days, a God cries again.

¹The green-tipped arrows were coated with poison.

²Reader's bow is designed after the Raven's Bow.

³Gale is not the bard's official name but was used to avoid too many confusion.

⁴This had a different, more painful and hatred alternate ending where you hated Venti for taking Gale's form, but I changed it so I could rest my own heart.

*in honor of your contribution to Mondstadt's freedom, the maiden who throws the Harpastum is made for your grace.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[caciula-lui-burebista]

"All Sails Up!" book review

"Toate pânzele sus!" ("All Sails Up!") by Radu Tudoran is officially translated in English!!! When I read this book I was absolutely shocked at how amazing it was, I (at least) consider it to be the best Romanian book ever written. In fact, I think it's in my top 3 favorite books.

Below I'll leave my review and a link so you can purchase it/read a sample. The world needs to know about it!

Rating: 5+⭐/5

"All Sails Up!" is a novel about pure adventure, freedom and chasing dreams, with strong-willed and fleshed out, original characters that will make you cry with joy, frown, laugh with tears and look deep within yourself. The premise is about the Romanian Anton Lupan and his lifelong dream, an epic voyage to "The Land of Fire" in South America with his friend, Pierre Vaillant. The trouble comes when Pierre goes missing along with the ship they intended to sail, L'Esperance. Many years and struggles later, Anton finds the shipwreck of L'Esperance and understands that he needs to embark on the journey in that moment or he'll miss his chance.

Lupan then gathers a crew of reliable people and the author proceeds to take the reader in one of the most epic travels. It's like you'll see with your own two eyes sceneries from across the Mediterranean, Atlantic and South American places, described in such magical great detail. Not only that, but my general knowledge about seamanship, various cultures, traditions and history improved in no time. You go from Romania to Greece, Turkey, Arabian islands, France, Argentina, Chile and all the seas in between them. From the Muslim rituals in the Saint Sofia Cathedral in Istanbul to the cockfights in Buenos Aires, I now know a little bit more facts about many places on the Globe.

The crew is mainly from a Romanian background, but it also has characters from Turkey, Greece or the Middle East. It is really interesting to see the attitudes people had (and maybe still have) regarding other cultures and traditions. Despite minor misunderstandings, they all get along and understand each other, Radu Tudoran making a point in promoting multiculturalism and friendship between the nations. For example, Ismail, a Turk (which weren't very well seen by Romanians some time ago because of the Otoman Empire's domination), is one of the most beloved characters in Romanian literature, showing altruism and generosity.

The book also reflects some Romanian outlooks on life (settling with what you have earned for now, aspirations don't really have to be followed) clashing with unconventional ways of thinking, by the end all the characters realising that dreams are worth being transformed into reality and that coming out of your confort zone is actually liberating.

There's even a bit of a love story sub-plot which I found very sweet, not at all complicated and for me it felt like a break from all the problematic scenarios I find in television or new books. It was simple and the kind I want to see more in media, it just adds some flavor but doesn't ruin the main story.

I don't know what to say more, but pirates! Thieves in boat ports! Skillful negotiations! Salty water! Traveling across the Atlantic on a boat with sails! The 1880s! Storms that turn ships upside down! Charles Darwin is actually a character! Spring in Brazil! Exploration, unknown, adventure! Zero (0) overused Romanian stereotypes!

Right now I am reading "All Sails Up!" the second time because the nostalgia was too upsetting. There's even a TV series which is generally stays true to the source material, very entertaining especially if you've read the novel.

The English version translated by Cleopatra Hensby is available in digital format on Amazon and it's only 3.56 dollars! I promise you they're going to be the best 3.56 dollars you've ever spent! click here

The TV series is available on YouTube, but you have to look for all 12 episodes separately. As far as I know it's only in Romanian and without any subtitles :/

I hope you enjoyed this post and maybe give this novel a try! I'd like to discuss it especially with foreigners, my inbox is always open!

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon': Prologue ♡ BakugouXFem!Reader (Book 1)

Alright I'm doing it.

I'm doing the thing.

It literally keeps me awake at night I gotta write thisss *cough* okay

Originally I was only going to post this unto Wattpad, but getting traction on their website is a little more difficult than good ole' Tumblr, so I'll be posting it on both. Feel free to visit my Wattpad here: LINK if you want to support my writing on that end. (I would so appreciate it)

This post is going to run pretty long, as it will host both the prologue of the story and my author's notes. Just a heads up.

Summery:

A slow-burn action/romance where you begin in the bowels of a Villain base and rise up to join U.A.'s top Hero Class. This life was your choice. In the event of learning then losing the love of a friend, you make a decision that changes your reality at the core--to become an imposter among villains and bring them down from the inside out. The organization that ruined your premature perfect life was known as H.H., after their leader Head-Honcho. His crime of choice: intelligence. Training and conducting espionage agents and assassins across Japan as a means to further the dark underground network. Your training began at thirteen, after managing to impress the multi-faced villain with your stealth and your conviction. Rumors would soon spread through the dark alleys of Naruhata City of a masked assassin known as Demon, whose bare face could steal the souls of her targets. Everything appears to be going to plan; but the Hero Agencies you've been slipping information to are calling for an end to your superior sooner than you had anticipated. Your time as 'Demon' is limited. What will happen when your world comes crashing down? Where will you go, when everything you had known you helped to destroy?

AUTHOR'S NOTES

This is a slow burn fan-fic; and I am not italicizing those words without reason. This is going to be an agonizingly slow action-packed adventure-romance. This is a self-insert story, just like my three-part series 'Some Combat Training' (link) where you as the protagonist will not be described outside of being female, general physique, and a generalization of your uniform(s). Skin, hair, eyes, etc. will not be described at all--besides ambiguous adjectives. That said, I am taking liberties with physique and stature due to the nature of the story. You're abilities rely on stealth as well as close and fast combat, therefore you are described as 'small', 'lithe', 'athletic', and all of those other fancy little ninja woman words. Your personality has been shaped by the events of your life and the people within it; but if I were to describe it I would choose words like: Intelligent, determined, self-sacrificing, quiet, humble, and studious. The story will follow along with the anime for the most part starting at around the time of the USJ event, though at some point the story will branch off and become more my original concoction. (Such as, fast-forwarding the time-line to when the characters are older.) Some information about you as the protagonist will not be written here, as I plan for those to be revelations within the story. There will be angst, blood and gore, adult-humor, trauma, death, bad language and warnings will be listed with each chapter as needed. Feel free to comment on those chapters as soon as you see something that isn't mentioned that might make someone (if not yourself) feel uncomfortable. I will not be offended. This story is meant to get a little dark. Please comment if you can about your opinions! I have never posted an on-going fic before, and anything you have to say I would appreciate! <3 Now, please enjoy this short prologue~ Chapter 1 is being reviewed and edited, to be release very soon! 👹🖤⛓🔪💣 ...four...five...six.. You counted the footsteps behind your left ear, round the corner of the dim abandoned subway. You'd been stationary; still so long that your digits had all but numbed. Turn... one...two...three... The footsteps were distancing from the hall your attention had been set upon. A T-section, where the entity had gone down and away from your destination. You had to cross that 'T' to get to the junction--where you needed to leave a note completely undetected. The slightest mis-step would lead to suspicion. Suspicion would lead to investigation. Investigation lead to the five percent chance they could find that note--and no percentage was too small. It all hinged on absolute perfection. Nine...ten...eleven... This was their fifth round. A patrol. You had to make sure their movement were predictable before this would work--despite having successfully delivered the note fourty-two times and counting--you did not have the luxury of assumption. Only if their stride was even, only if you absolutely knew they were moving at a certain pattern, could you depend on the following information: It took fifteen steps before they would reach the broken light on their route. The haze of the dust and pollutants reflected in the working lights prior to that was your cover. Cross the 'T', leave the note, and cross it again. Out of sight and out of earshot, mission successful. Fourteen... f-- You turn, and it takes three steps to arrive at the drop to the tracks. You bunch and leap, and even the quietest friction of fabric from your uniform creases your brow. You land, just outside of the light's reach on the thin concrete slab beyond. Your eyes track the metals, the jutting wall tiles; that with which the barest touch could emit a sound--and you maneuver around them. Under, creeping low--and over, leaping to land on the balls of your feet and checking your balance before moving forward. Careful to not cast a shadow into the hall. Paced, so as not to move too quickly nor too slowly. Counting, because every second was controlled and calculated. You reach the juncture, and once again

edging the light you propel yourself to land back on the main thoroughfare. The next obstacle--removing the loose brick. Behind a metal bench centered between two closed-in stair cases, where the tile meets what had once been a decorative brick mosaic; eight bricks right and eighteen bricks up, was your note's destination. Just above your head, where you had to bend at an awkward angle to reach. Not practical, less detectable. You're wearing tight fabric gloves with grips on the pads, but thin enough you can feel the texture of the brick as you gently lace your fingers at each of the corners. Lifting, centering, and pulling the brick from its slot. Holding it just right, you can avoid the loud scrapes and grinds--but you have to hold it perfectly centered. Success. In goes the note. As does the brick, back into the wall. But you're only half-way done. Leap. Quiet, maneuver, avoid, measure. Silent. Leap. Hide. You're back is once again at the wall, the footsteps of the lackey you'd been avoiding closing in proximity to the Hall you'd just left. Four... five... six... Your eyes focus on the wall opposite of you as you ground yourself. The next few seconds determined a new reality. Either they followed their pattern, or they didn't. You had to be flexible. No assumptions. If they move towards the junction, you have to follow. If they move towards you, you'd calculate on your feet. Seven... eight... nine.. Turn. ...one...two...three.. You don't relax. Even after you count their steps to fifteen, even as you slip away back through the hall, even as you exit the unattended vent and breathe in fresh air--you don't relax until you're sitting on the floor in your room, calming down, your mask in your hands. After checking to make sure your door had not been opened, and no one had looked for you. No tracks in the dust. Only then do you allow yourself to ruminate on the contents of the note you had written, because you could still see every letter of it in your mind. ------ 55-1, Minami Senju 5-chome, Musutafu Target: Fukui Mitsuo Floor 8 3 AM. 7. Accompanied. Head. ------ For the briefest moment, you feel your hands shake. They always did on these nights. Realistically, you'd left no openings. Tested and re-tested every method. Calculated every movement. Left nothing to chance. But the 'what-if's' still linger, and you let them. The fear is good. It keeps you on your toes, your mind on edge, your tongue to the roof of your mouth. If he found out, you wouldn't know it until it was over. So you pretended he already did. Below you, underground in his base, plotting how to get at you when you were most vulnerable. Tear you to pieces, throw you in a pit or in a cage. No--too risky, he'd just kill you. A dead-end is better than a possibility. You'd learned that from him. You swallow, head turning so the amber morning sky is in your peripheral. All things considered, you would still unfortunately need sleep. You cherished the brief moments of sunlight and let your mind swim in the memories of your childhood spent in the daytime; before retiring to the broken and borrowed mattress. Seven days. You would check the location of your note in two. If there is another note in response, you would create a reactionary plan. The pattern continues. Until he finds out. ...Until he finds out.

[romeulusroy]

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.