#their interior seems to get worse and worse every time I go by but I'm hoping that's just because it's summer time

[goldenempyrean]

for your drabbles request, i was thinking something like this:

W: “Do you not see how pale you are right now?”     

R: “Can you just shut up for a second?”

W: "You can’t drive home in your condition.”  

with sick!reader and caretaker!wanda, kinda angsty but with a happy ending if possible :)

Second Opinion

〚 Notes - Just a drabble....whole story? Potato potatah? Wanda's a major bitch at the start of this but we'll look over it because she redeems herself <3 Sorry this took a while, I got sent home from work sick so finally had the time to finish this :,) 〛

〚 Pairing - Wanda Maximoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Your camping trip doesn't go to plan. Wanda isn't exactly helping you feel better. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1530 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“I knew you didn’t check the weather.” Wanda grumbled from the under the small shelter you’d both huddled beneath, shaking out her soaked hair and scrunching up her damp curls before shooting you an annoyed look. 

“I didnt realise it was going to rain!” You threw your hands up defensively, the action had sent the water droplets on your arms splashing in every direction, “I’m just as soaked as you are! How was I meant to know the tent wasn’t waterproof?” 

The pair of you loved to camp, it was always fun to get out into nature, switch off your electronics and unwind. It was something you did every year. Unfortunately you’d forgotten to check the weather before rushing off for a weekend away. It had rained heavily throughout the night and much to Wanda’s horror, had made the tragic discovery that the tent you’d been sleeping in was definitely not waterproof. 

You’d both woken up to find yourselves soaked to the bone,  laying in freezing cold water… Not the greatest way to wake up. 

Wanda sighed, rubbing her arms for warmth. "Well, what do we do now? We can't stay here in this soggy mess." 

“We can pack up everything into the boot, there should be a tarp in there so it wont ruin the interior. Then I guess we just head home?”  You sniffled, as a chill rolled up your arms. 

Wanda grumbled as she helped gather up the soggy camping gear, shooting you occasional glares that seemed to say, "This is all your fault." Meanwhile, you couldn't shake off the chill that had settled deep into your bones. The feeling of your damp clothes sticking to you only added to your discomfort. 

But as you packed up, Wanda's annoyance seemed to intensify with every wet item she handled. "I can't believe this," She muttered, shaking out a drenched sleeping bag. "We should have checked the weather. This is just typical of you! You’re so unprepared!” 

You tried to muster a defense, but your voice came out weak and raspy. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for this to happen." You cringed a little at the sound of your voice. You’d had a cold for the past week however you’d started feeling better for the last few days but you’d supposed that waking up shivering and soaked would make anyone feel ill again. 

As Wanda continued to grumble, you couldn't help but sneeze, the action sent had you stumbling forward a little and you really hadn’t been able to cover your mouth in time… 

"Ugh, seriously?" she snapped, wiping at her dampened clothes with annoyance. "First, the weather, and now you're sneezing on me? Could this day get any worse?" 

You winced, feeling guilty for both the sneeze and the situation as a whole. "I-I'm sorry," you stammered, reaching for a tissue to cover your mouth. "It's this stupid cold. I can't help it." 

Wanda rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.  

“Go wait in the car,” She gave you a stern look, the kind she had when she wouldn’t take no for an answer and pointed to the vehicle. “You better take those soaked clothes off as well, I need you getting pneumonia.” 

You sniffled, not bothering to argue any longer. The corners of your temples had started to ache and you couldn’t deal with her attitude. 

“Fine!” You climbed into the driver’s side and closed the door with a slam. 

As Wanda continued packing up the camping gear, her frustration seemed to grow with each soggy item she handled. She muttered under her breath, shooting occasional glances towards the car where you were waiting. 

“Are you even able to drive safely?” Wanda mumbled under her breath as she clambered into the passenger seat only ten minutes later. You sent her an unimpressed glare. “I’m being serious, I mean do you not see how pale you are right now? What if you fall asleep while driving?” 

"Can you just shut up for a second?" You snapped back, feeling the throbbing ache in your temples intensify with each passing moment. You weren’t in the mood to argue from the second she’d gotten in the car. 

Wanda sighed heavily, her frustration mixing with genuine worry. "You can't drive home in your condition." 

You leaned back in the seat, the cold seeping into your bones and sapping what little energy you had left. "I'll manage," you muttered stubbornly, though the idea of driving in your current state filled you with dread. 

Her eyes narrowed, a distinct crease forming in her brow, “No you won’t manage! Just let me drive, Y/N, for gods sake!” 

You knew she was right; driving in your current state was a recipe for disaster. Reluctantly, you handed over the keys, feeling defeated and utterly drained. 

Wanda wasted no time taking charge, starting the car and adjusting the mirrors before pulling out of the campsite. You slumped in the passenger seat, feeling the chill of your soaked clothes seep deeper into your bones. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your head, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to ease the throbbing. 

You sniffled, trying to stifle the tickle in your nose, but it persisted, building with each passing moment until you couldn't help but let out a series of harsh, miserable sneezes. 

Wanda glanced over at you, her annoyance fading into concern as she saw the way you huddled in on yourself. "You okay?" she asked, her voice a little softer now. 

You mustered a weak nod, but the look on your face betrayed the truth. Your cheeks flushed with fever, and your skin felt clammy to the touch. It was clear you were far from okay. 

“Don’t lie to me.” She mumbled, her hand coming to rest on your forehead, “You’ve got a fever again.” She sighed, her hand coming down for cup your cheek for a moment, and you found yourself sinking into her touch, craving the comfort it brought. 

You still were reluctant to fully give in, “I’m fine Wands. Just leave it… please?” You added, expecting her to argue back but she just looked at you with sympathy instead and murmured under her breath.

"I think you need a second opinion on that."

As the car hummed along the roads, the combination of exhaustion and illness weighed heavily on you. Despite your best efforts to stay awake and alert, the steady rhythm of the car and the warmth from the heater lulled you into a drowsy haze. 

Your eyelids grew heavy, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to the pull of sleep. Your head lolled to the side, resting against the window as raspy breaths and intermittent coughs escaped your lips. Wanda glanced over at you, her expression softening at the sight of you. 

The guilt weighed heavily on her as she watched you sleep, your face flushed with fever, your body shivering involuntarily despite the warmth of the car. She pulled the car over to quickly reach into the back, pulling up the blanket you usually kept in the backseats before gently laying it over you, tucking it in at the sides. Wanda sighed in remorse, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had been too harsh on you earlier.  

She replayed the events of the morning in her mind, feeling a pang of regret with each memory. Maybe she should have been more understanding, more patient. She hadn’t slept well and was overtired and she had taken it out on you. After all, you didn't intentionally get sick or forget to check the weather. It was just an unfortunate series of events.  

Eventually, the familiar sight of your home came into view, and Wanda felt a sense of relief wash over her. She carefully parked the car and turned off the engine, reaching over to gently shake your shoulder. 

"Hey, we're home," she murmured softly, her voice laced with concern. "Let's get you inside and warmed up." 

With Wanda's help, you groggily stumbled out of the car and into the warmth of your home. She guided you to the couch, before hurrying off to your bedroom, quickly returning with a thick hoodie for you to wear and you could hear the distance hum of running water. 

"I'm sorry for snapping earlier," Wanda murmured, her voice filled with sincerity. "I shouldn't have been so harsh on you. I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was way out of line.” 

“I’ve started a bath for you if you want it?” 

Wanda's apology hangs in the air, melting away any lingering tension. With a soft smile, you reach out and grasp her hand’ “Thank you, baby," you replied, your voice still hoarse. "I appreciate it. And a bath sounds wonderful after all this.” You paused, watching as she fidgeted with her fingers - clearly still feeling guilty. 

“Do you want to join me? You got soaked too y’know.” 

She blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that response. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, “If you’ll have me?” Her eyes softened as she nodded, her lips curling into a relieved smile. 

"I'd love to." 

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @danveration @idkeithershawty @rainedontknow @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic @lexasaurs634 @scarlettssub @paisley-yy @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister  @alexawynters @swaqcenix @inluvwithfandom

[dmitriene]

Hi sweetie!! I saw that ur requests are still open so I'm here now haha.

But anyways, If you like the idea of course, could I request some fluff with re4 Leon? Like him taking care of the reader after a bad day at work or something? Maybe some cuddles and soft kisses, I desesperately need him.

I thought It might be cute and please let your mind roam free with the idea I'm pretty sure I'll love it ♡♡

꒰ heyy lovey!!! i absolutely love the idea and also you really helped me by reminding that i can also write about reader problems, not only leons's 😭 also, hope you'll like it, because it came out really short!🤍 ࿐ ꒱

title — comfort in his arms content — re4 leon kennedy x gn reader tags — fluff, comfort, domestic established relationship, sweet baby leon is comforting you while you crying.

please enjoy your reading!

The day started like any other, with the gentle morning light streaming through the curtains and Leon's warm embrace enveloping you.

His arms wrapped around you and his lips gently kissed your neck, it should have been a happy morning filled with love and satisfaction, but when you slipped out of his arms to get ready for work, an invisible cloud seemed to hover over you.

From the moment you left the warmth of your shared bed, everything seemed to go wrong.

You were fumbling with your toothbrush, toothpaste splattered on your shirt and you forgot where you put your car keys, in the office your usually organized thoughts were scattered like leaves in the wind and you couldn't concentrate on tasks.

Your boss noticed your exhausted state — you could barely concentrate on the questions and tasks at hand, a haze seemed to descend over you, clouding your thoughts and making even the simplest tasks seem monumental.

And by the end of the working day you looked even worse.

Your eyes were tired, your shirt was wrinkled from nervous tugging, your hair was disheveled, you couldn’t wait to return home to the comforting presence of Leon, who always knew how to make sure everything was fine.

Leon, punctual as always, picked you up as usual.

As you slid into the passenger seat of Leon's car and drove home, the atmosphere inside the car was filled with an unusual tension.

The air, usually filled with comfortable silence or casual conversation, was laced with anxiety, Leon's usually relaxed demeanor changed and he cast worried glances in your direction, gripping the steering wheel with a strength that betrayed his anxiety.

The quiet hum of the car's engine served as a backdrop to the unspoken tension between you, the interior of the car was bathed in the soft glow of the lights on the dashboard, casting intermittent shadows that danced across Leon's face, his handsome face, usually relaxed and good natured, showing wrinkles of worry as he glanced sideways on you.

From time to time you noticed how he nervously fiddled with his pant leg, rhythmically tapping his fingers on the fabric, this was a clear sign of his anxiety, a manifestation of concern for you, you could feel his gaze on you, soothing, but with a tinge of anxiety, and his grip on the steering wheel intensified, his knuckles turning white as he struggled with his anxiety.

The silence between you was palpable, filled only with the faint sound of a car engine and the distant rumble of traffic, Leon seemed lost in thought, his brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the events of the day, wondering what could have happened to leave you in such upset state.

With every mile passed the tension grew, creating a heavy but fragile atmosphere in the car, it was as if you were both tiptoeing around a hidden mine, not knowing when or if it would explode, Leon's occasional glances were a silent plea for you to open up, to share the burden that weighed on your shoulders.

As you continued to sit in silence, your exhaustion and frustration growing, you felt Leon's apprehension increase, the inside of the car becoming a haven of unspoken concern, a place where you both could lose yourself in your thoughts while in the same space.

The rhythmic sound of the tires on the road seemed to emphasize the severity of the situation — the road stretched endlessly before you as you both headed home, it was a journey filled with unspoken emotions, a silent connection that transcended words.

In the dimly lit car, you could see the outline of Leon's profile, his jaw clenched in worry, his eyes darting between the road and your reflection in the rearview mirror, street lights rushing past like a blur, casting fleeting shadows that danced across his face, still further complicating his emotions.

As the miles melted away and home grew closer, his concern for you grew deeper, his determination to provide comfort and support reflected in his every move, but he decided to give you some space, knowing you needed it.

The car pulled into the parking lot and the quiet purr of the engine stopped as Leon parked, the atmosphere in the car remained heavy with unspoken anxiety as you both unbuckled your seat belts at the same time, neither of you daring to break the silence that fell around you like a thick fog.

The car doors opened and you stepped out into the evening air, it was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions that accompanied your journey home, the concrete of the parking lot was bathed in the soft orange light of the setting sun, casting long shadows.

As you approached the elevator, the sound of your footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway, the dim lighting combined with the lack of words creating an almost surreal atmosphere, as if time had slowed down, allowing you both to reflect on the day's events in your own minds.

The elevator doors opened with a quiet clang and you both entered without exchanging a word, in the silence the small space seemed even smaller, the only sound was the faint hum of the elevator mechanics, Leon pressed the button for your floor and you saw the numbers above the door light up, each of which brought you closer to the sanctuary of your apartment.

When the elevator finally reached your floor and the doors opened again, you stepped out into a dimly lit hallway, the familiar sight of your apartment door coming into view and you quickened your pace, eager to find solace behind the closed doors.

As you reached the threshold of your apartment, exhaustion and emotional turmoil caused you to falter for a moment, in that brief moment of distraction your elbow hit the doorway, causing a thud that echoed down the hallway.

But the pain that shot through your arm was secondary to the emotional release it caused.

Leon, who was walking right behind you, turned sharply in your direction, his worried eyes fixed on your figure, he watched as you stood there with your head down and shoulders trembling, the floodgates of your emotions bursting open again and you began to sob uncontrollably.

Leon immediately rushed to your side, his anxiety reaching its peak, he placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch was gentle and soothing — «Hey, honey, what's wrong?» Leon's voice was laced with concern as he gently cupped your face in his hands.

You couldn't find the words to explain — frustration and exhaustion had left you unable to speak, all you could do was cry, your tears flowing freely and Leon didn't press for an answer — instead he gently scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you to the bedroom where he could heal your emotional wounds, sitting you on the edge of the bed and gently wiping your tears with his thumb.

Hiccupping and trying to compose yourself, you began to mutter about your terrible day, the words flowing out like a stream — «I-I'm so tired Leon, everything went wrong today, i-i messed up at work and just can't handle it anymore..»

Leon, always an understanding and supportive partner, listened carefully while his heart ached for your grief, he found you a fresh set of clothes, a soft t-shirt and comfortable shorts and began to change you with his gentle and loving touches, as he unbuttoned your shirt, his lips pressed to the top of your head, leaving tender kisses.

Kneeling in front of you, Leon helped you take off your pants, while his lips touched your knee, his touch like a soothing balm, erasing the stress of the day, he stroked your hair with endless tenderness, and when he finished dressing, he wrapped you in his again hugs, rocking you on the soft pillows of your bed.

Lying together, holding you tightly, Leon continued to kiss you softly and tenderly, each kiss was like a promise that everything would be fine, he held you close, his body gave you warmth and comfort, his whispered assurances were like a gentle lullaby, soothing your frayed nerves.

— «Shh, it's okay, honey» Leon muttered, his lips brushing your ear — «You've had a tough day, but i'm here now, we'll take the day off together and i'll make sure you relax and forget about it all, you're not alone in this, i promise»

His words were a lifeline in the storm of your emotions, and as you buried your face in his chest, you felt the weight of the day begin to fade away, in the safety of Leon’s arms, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, finding comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Even though Leon Kennedy was a man who faced unimaginable horrors on a daily basis, he was also someone who could heal your wounded heart with his tender kisses, warm hugs and unwavering love.

In his arms, you knew that even the worst days could be turned into moments of comfort and tenderness, and as you closed your eyes, you fell into a peaceful sleep, grateful for the refuge you found in his arms.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthea dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

© dmitriene - my masterlist or ao3 please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me. reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[raayllum]

I just finished Book 5, and do you think that Ezra’s arc will have him learn that words aren’t enough? Some fans do think that he’s the least emphasized of the Dragang

I don't think Ezran is going to learn that words aren't enough (they have been, often times in his life, and trying non violent routes are important) but I do think he's going to be presented with more and more situations where it is, as he acknowledges, "Not that simple" (4x03).

In Arc 1, you had the transformative trio of characters (Callum, Rayla, Soren) who were rapidly changing as people versus the more "circumstances change and drag out certain personality traits either more or less" stagnated trio (Ezran, Viren, Claudia). In Arc 2 thus far, it seems that Soren, Claudia, and Ezran are the 'stagnant' ones and Viren, Callum, and Rayla are the transformative ones. That being said, I do think S5 focused on Ezran as much as S4 focused on Rayla, so it's not surprising there's a bit of a trade off (especially with Janai very much being a Main Character in arc 2) with Callum (always our main Main protagonist) getting a decent amount every season. There's definitely a lack of Ezran in the first four episodes (he gets about one scene a-piece) but I do think it's over quality > quantity, in some ways. (Bow from She-Ra for example is in every single episode of that series, but gets very little by way of arcs or conflict or interiority, y'know?)

That said:

I talked about this a bit more in a podcast review I did for the season / this meta, but I think Soren and Ezran are having slowburn arcs that will come to fruition in S6. Soren, after all, hasn't really changed as a character since the end of S3 - he's on team good guy, he's reaffirming his choices and love for his friends, he still cares for Claudia and still views his father as a cruel villain (which, Viren is/can be).

Ezran, likewise, is dealing with his own well, slowburn of problems. In a lot of ways, Ezran has to hold it together when everyone else is falling apart (Rayla is MIA, Callum is a mess; staying level headed even when they're arguing; being the main negotiator seemingly between the Pentarchy and the dragons of Xadia; and ruling is own kingdom). He takes his duties seriously and wants to broker peace further, if maybe a tad faster than people are ready for. Like Janai says, I think, his priorities have changed since becoming king. His duty first and foremost is to his kingdom/the world. (Not that it wasn't his mindset before, but it wasn't his responsibility before pre-series, y'know?) Which is very Rayla of him, I think ("I let them all down" in 3x04 / "I just feel like I'm letting everybody down" for Ez in 3x03).

And we see how much this weighs on Ezran based on how heavily he takes responsibility for his perceived and or literal mistakes. Whether it's speeding things up too fast / not giving enough room for his people's, or his own anger...

E: I had a speech planned for today. It was about peace and love and hope. But I think I left something out. I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable.

or in doing the right thing in saving the Baitlings, but putting his friends in danger.

And Soren acknowledges that this isn't really fair for Ezran, either:

Soren: This is all too heavy. It's not fair you have to struggle through this alone. You deserve time to do kid stuff. If you spend all your time doing adult stuff now, you'll grow up weird, like your brother and Rayla.

Now, on the certain level, Ezran is alone because he's like - he's the King, and that's its own unique position. However, if you look at how close Viren and Harrow, and Harrow and Sarai were, in their decision making, they did everything together. In spite of being a single dad, Harrow was never alone in what he did as king (for better or for worse): "I accept that tonight I may pay the price for our mistakes."

So I think it's interesting this emphasis on loneliness/alone in the same season we have Amaya and Rayla's conversation about it too:

A: My big sister Sarai was the smartest, strongest, bravest person I knew. When she died, I felt lost and weak without her.

I hated feeling that way, so I learned to be strong alone. Stoic, strong, and lonely. [...] To have that kind of strength, it is not enough to love someone. You have to trust them to share the burdens you're carrying.

So who does Ezran depend on to carry that burden with him? Because Ezran isn't supposed to be alone as king, and Harrow spelled it out for us:

When I am gone your brother Ezran will become king, and you will be his partner, his defender, and his closest advisor.

So the question is... has Callum really fulfilled his role for his brother? Callum isn't crownguard, so actually protecting Ezran is primarily in Soren and Corvus' hands, exemplified by Soren being the one to get angry over the ruined painting in 4x03, to run to Ezran in 4x09, and for Callum to be absent from the Dragon mission in S5. And when Callum is there to have a duty to fulfil:

Then we see the brothers - not Ezran and Rayla - disagree on how to proceed forward with Aaravos, getting momentarily a little heated before they both turn to Rayla (and remember those Rayla parallels I mentioned earlier?):

Now, it's not surprising that Ezran wants to take the diplomatic / least violent route. He's the one primarily appealing to Akiyu rather than barrelling onwards, and expresses great concern for her (even after she tried to kill them). Claudia thinks she can appeal to him in 5x09 because of his empathy. A more compassionate, reasonable route is what he's always done, trying to reason evenly with Finnegrin and with Rex Igneous, even if it doesn't precisely work out... simply because they, like his brother, don't exactly Value the same things Ezran does.

Alright, so the broyals disagreed once, and Callum is a little flighty as a High Mage. So what? Well: Callum now knows, and has already committed himself, to helping Rayla free her parents from the coins, including Runaan.

And Ezran's short story going into S5 hints that this may not exactly be something he's happy about:

Ezran gripped the arrow tight. The thing in his hands was a terrible letter, the ribbon its message: the king of Katolis was dead. King Harrow. His father. Something cold lurched inside him. He fought against it. He’d fought it before, that same hurt, years ago—when he’d found out what really happened that night in Katolis. Still, it haunted him. He couldn’t help but imagine the scene, all of it playing out like grim theater before him, as though he’d been there, as though he’d stood by and watched it happen. That Moonshadow elf upon the castle ramparts, skulking toward his father’s chambers. 

It stared up at him. Ezran felt a coldness twist its way around his heart. It took his lungs, too, and for a long moment he could not breathe, could not feel anything but an unfamiliar anger so potent it seized the whole of him, inside and out. Ezran stepped towards the arrow— —and stomped down on it as hard as he could. He wished he were bigger, stronger, he wished his boots were made of iron and not something soft. Still, it was enough. When he pulled his foot away, Ezran glared down at the arrow’s hawkish head, flattened and broken. Its ruby eye slipped from its socket, its black metal bent like frayed feathers. He left it there in the dark.

Full short story here.

So Ezran is going to find out, or possibly feel, that Callum and Rayla are keeping a secret from him (again, just like S2, which didn't make him happy then, either). Callum is going to side with Rayla over him if he mandates that Runaan shouldn't or can't be freed, giving into his anger and grief much the same way his father did. He may pull rank - and Callum is going to disregard it. A very similar fallout repeating itself...

Ezran being increasingly isolated (especially if Callum and Rayla are working, or leaving, to find the Starscraper), his disapproval and grief, trying to manage the possible fallout of Zubeia being injured/MIA, feeling undervalued and disregarded by his brother... There's little doubt in my mind that Callum and Ezran (and Rayla) will reconcile and find their way back to one another, healing their hurts, but Ezran has a lot of potential anger and angst to express and a lot on his upcoming plate, steadily added to and set up by the previous seasons.

Which in a lot of ways, makes sense. Ezran as king and Callum as high mage, and as brothers, have to prove they won't fall apart the same way that King Harrow and Viren did, more necessary than ever now that Callum has done dark magic again. Ezran was there to pick up the pieces after Rayla left, but he may still have anger over that and their joint secret keeping from him / feeling like they're treating him 'unfairly' like a child. We've also never really seen Ezran have this type of conflict before, nevermind for the trio as a whole (most of the time it's been Callum and Rayla disagreeing, a couple brief instances of Ez and Rayla, and Callum and Ez a few times in S1 / 5x05) so for Ezran to be what starts falling apart would really rattle all three of him, and seems to be where he's headed, character wise.

And I for one cannot wait to see it.

TLDR; Ezran's slow burn arc, much like Soren's, is being steadily set up and is going to likely be a big focus in the next two seasons, pushing him and other characters in brand new directions and with some really emotional, powerful storytelling to upstage our previously held status quo in all the ways.

[nevernonline]

✽ maybe this means something? ✽ | csc.

CHAPTER 00 - Introduction.

Choi Seungcheol used to be the bane of your existence, but through a year of seasonal rotations, something felt different. It has to be overwhelming realizing you could fall for the person you always thought you hated.

𐦍 paring: seungcheol x reader. (svt members mentioned)

𐦍 genre: frenemies (sort of), romance, a little angst, fluff.

𐦍 content: non-idol characters, food/drink, cursing, slightly- suggestive, pet names, fem! reader. bff! hao.

𐦍 word count: 1.4k

♥ notes: every time I listen to Means something by Lizzy McAlpine it makes me think of cheol so I wanted to write a little something with it as inspo, but pls ignore any typos or weird phrasing I'm super rusty when it comes to writing long fics. pls enjoy and give feedback. xo.

Intro - Fall - Winter - Spring - Summer

Intro:

Walking down a narrow alleyway trying to find the brown arched doorway in the photo from your friend's text, you suddenly felt a chill running up and down your back, was someone following behind you? If they were, was it smart for you to turn around and look or keep your head held high and continue to your front? 

Against your better judgment you continued down the moonlit coated pathway. Suddenly a firm grasp came up to your shoulder as you screamed only to be met with the smirking face and raven colored hair of your worst nightmare, no, not a murderer but worse, Choi Seungcheol. 

For all you made out of his features in the small amount of light you did have, that smirk plastered on his face could only be changed by your hand coming in contact harshly with his cheek. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you spat in his direction, his hand still resting on the jacket that covered your bare shoulders underneath.  

Seungcheol, now stone cold as you’ve known him to be,, just shook his head and removed his hand only now to be pointing two doors down from where you had walked. “You missed the entrance.” 

You just squinted back in his direction and without a word pushed passed his broad shoulders to the door you had missed. When you finally reached the warmth of bodies grazing passed you in both directions the sound of the music made the fast paced beating of your chest seem calm. 

“Minghao!” you yelled finally spotting the reason you’re not in bed  watching your favorite movie. 

“I didn’t think you’d make it!” he smiled hugging you so tight your ribs felt like they could crack. 

It was a celebration for him after all, you’ve known him forever so you could miss a big moment like this. He was throwing a party for all of his closest friends to cheer the opening of his art gallery, most of them being featured artists he discovered somewhat like what you thought you’d be doing, but maybe in another life. 

Your right arm still draped around his waist as your left outstretched to him grabbing the one thing you really needed, alcohol. Taking a sip and letting it run down the back of your throat felt like a reward. 

“You know I could never turn down a chance to celebrate you, this is really amazing, Hao. I can –” a familiar voice interrupted yours offering another congrats to the friend on your side, of course it was his. 

Seungcheol looked at the closeness of you and Minghao and felt a rush to his cheeks, “Hi, sorry to interrupt you both, but I figured if I didn’t stop her now I could never get a word in.” 

Your mutual friend just laughed at the two of you. He's always been in the middle of the bubbling tension, “Cheol, thank you. Really you’re like 75% of this. You designed the entire layout; it wouldn't have been the same without you.” 

Hao’s hand left its comfortable position around you to now be wrapped around the shoulders you rudely brushed passed earlier. 

“Wait, you designed this?” your now hands gesturing to the architecture of Minghao’s gallery interior. 

Seungcheol looked confused as to why you were even entertaining a conversation between the two of you. He chose to let it go due to the night being special,, “Uhm, yep. I took over for my dad, he owns a lot of the historic buildings in this neighborhood so whoever owns the retail space has to come through our architecture firm for consultation.” 

Your eyes opened wide, almost not believing the words coming out of his mouth, pure shock was really all you had in you. “Oh, cool.” Was that all you could say? Cool? 

“I guess, it’s not really what I wanted to do forever, but designing for Hao was something I couldn’t say no to and my dad never would’ve let me if I didn’t stay to take over for him, but yeah it's cool.” His smile seemed forced now and for some reason you felt the need to get to the bottom of that. 

Something about him changed from the time you saw him teasing you outside, something like the air during this season. On the outside it was cold, but the inside was warm and comfortable. You’d have to find shelter first to find the beauty of the outside.

A groan from Hao took your now staring eyes off of the cherry lipped boy to focus back onto him. “I’m sorry I have to go say hello to some people, but if you guys want to sit and wait for me I’ll be back in like ten minutes tops, grab a drink and go into the lounge.” His eyes never left yours searching for the fear of being alone with someone you loathed, but he couldn’t find it so he felt safe to leave you. 

As you waited with him in line you pretended to look around the room more, but really you just wanted to size him up. He had an outfit on that brought out his now masculine shape, which as a departure from the slim boy you met years before. His eyes seemed softer, like he had calmed down from the teasing and prodding. You couldn't put your finger on it, but maybe he was always this beautiful but you were too blinded by the rage inside your gut to notice.

“Hi guys, what can I get for you?” The overly perky bartender spoke loudly knocking you out of your trance.

“Tequila Soda.” Seungcheol and you spoke in unison. 

A small smile curved onto your normally downturned mouth, “Good choice.” 

“Mmm, you too, thought you had no taste?” He teased and grabbed the two drinks gesturing over to the sherpa lined loveseat near the fireplace. 

“I’m surprised you ever thought anything about me other than I was a bitch.” You scoffed now placing your jacket over your stocking covered legs. 

He just laughed and placed the two drinks down in front of him, “Well, to be honest I think this is the most I’ve ever spoken to you without one of us getting upset.” 

“Yeah, I would say sorry for that, but I’m too sober to have that conversation with you.” You lifted the rim of your glass to your lips taking a sip. “Can I ask you something actually?” 

Seungcheol just nodded in your direction while adjusting his frame towards you further, “Sure, go ahead.” 

“Did it at least hurt when I slapped you earlier? Cause if it didn’t I caused my hand pain for no reason.” 

“Yeah, it really did.” He just smiled. 

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

Leaving the party after your first civil conversation with the same guy you hated since you met him five years ago had you on a weird high, but it was probably just the tequila right? 

You would have never imagined from that first day in college when Minghao introduced you to a friend of his that you’d ever get along with him. You always just viewed him as Choi Seungcheol, enemy number one. A womanizer, a rich brat who got everything in his life handed to him, someone that you’d never get along with and not because you didn’t try. 

Seungcheol teased you, he made you feel small. Told you basically for years that Minghao only had been keeping you around because you were his charity case, but not in so many words.

You had felt a deep loathing for him forever, so why is it changing? 

Passing down as leaves  crunched beneath your feet you notice something, a street sign, a mundane object that’s never stuck out to you before it read ‘Coups Avenue.’ 

His nickname was on a sign just a few blocks down from your apartment, a street you’ve probably seen many times and never paid any attention to, so why was it special now? 

Your pace picked up as the wind blew colder, you had to get to the bottom of it.

Finally reaching the end of your elevator ride into your apartment, your laptop was out before you could even change out of your clothes or wash off your makeup you started researching the small hub that was your neighborhood. 

“Coups Avenue, what could that even mean?” your head couldn’t wrap around the fact it was the first time you noticed it. 

“ Coups Avenue is a small lux dead end street, featuring boutique liquor stores, luxury apartment complexes, and coveted neighborhood restaurants, most famously Choi Bistro founded in 1995 after the birth of the Choi family's son.” You read aloud to your dog as she's cuddled to your side on the couch. 

“So… I saw his name on a street sign, literally named for him after he was born.” You rolled your eyes and laid your head back to stare at the ceiling. "

It had to mean something, right?

[muserryy]

LIFE OF REVA (H.S)

LIFE OF REVA MASTERLIST || main masterlist

summary: Reva, a young woman who recently moved to a foreign country to pursue her higher education, is striving to adapt and navigate her new life. Harry, her flatmate, becomes a significant part of her journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER ONE!!

Reva D'Souza

Bristol. This is somebody's hometown, and I've never been here before. 

It was just a city I heard about in conversations until now. As I wandered through the neighbouring streets, unfamiliar buildings. unknown faces, and sights, the sounds of this place were far from the comforts of home. It was all exciting but also more intimidating for me. 

The evening breeze gently caressed my skin, still warm under the almost setting sun. I strolled past varied shops, stores, and graffiti-covered walls, trying to soak it all in. 

The streets beyond the museum were bustling with vibrant colours, and scenes, full of life. I was in awe of all the work done on the buildings. My feet came to a stop in front of a phone shop. The small building was painted with various phone application icons and logos from top to bottom. Even the shutter, which was down, had work done on it. The shop was closed.

My hand almost reached into my pocket for my phone to snap pictures, but I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of self-consciousness. It always holds me back. It's not just shyness; it's this nagging feeling, maybe my mindset, that people might judge me. They might think it's better to live in the moment than to constantly snap pictures like a typical tourist or worse, a wannabe social media influencer. But then maybe they wouldn't care at all and might mind their own business.

Although there's nothing wrong with wanting to capture every moment, in fact, it is a sweet thing to do– preserving moments. I've never done that. I want to, but I think I just couldn't get to it. I don't remember ever taking out my phone in public unless it's necessary. 

It's funny how little things like this can hold me back. Maybe I'm too sensitive or anxious, but the thought of  being judged makes me self conscious, even in such a beautiful and vibrant city.

Maybe some other day, I told myself, now that I'm living here for my studies. I guess I'll have plenty of time.

I continued walking until I found myself once again stopping in front of a cafe. The frames of the glass windows and the door were painted in deep red. Through the glass windows, I could see its cosy interior– the warm golden lights were inviting and there were only a few people sitting inside, so it was not crowded. It looked classy.

I stood there for a moment, gathering my thoughts and debating whether to go inside and treat myself to a coffee or just continue my walk before heading back to my flat. The second option seemed easier to me, a lot easier than interacting. 

But I felt like trying. I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. I had never been to a cafe alone before, let alone bought myself a coffee. But then again, I had never travelled so far away from my family and lived apart from them. Yet, here I was, and I still couldn't believe it. I had never envisioned a day like this. The thought of living on my own and being away from the people I had always been dependent on never seemed like a possibility.

I looked up at the sky briefly and a realization struck me: no one knows me here, and I don't know anyone either. I can choose to present myself however I want. No one knows me, no one to stop me from doing what I want. I shouldn't care about how people who I don't even know will perceive me. 

It is a strange sense of freedom– the thought of being outgoing, being loud, being different. I can be anything I want in this new place, right? No… no! I cannot. All my life, I have been a quiet and shy child. That's who I am… or at least, that's who I've always been. Can I change that? 

I sighed. I'm dwelling unnecessarily. It's not a big deal. It's just people, a cafe, and a cup of coffee.

"I think I really need that caffeine fix now," I said to myself. 

I pushed open the door and the bell chimed as I stepped inside. The warmth of the cafe enveloped my skin, along with the distinct and sweet aroma of various types of coffee and freshly baked goodies, drawing me in further. I had no idea what I wanted to order. I knew I wanted coffee but I hadn't really thought about the specifics.

Approaching the counter, the barista greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good evening ma'am. What would you like to have?"

oh, ma'am??  

I returned the smile, peering at the menu board pinned on the side wall. There was so much to choose from– espresso, cappuccino, lattes, americanos, mochas, and more. What was even the difference between all of them? I was an inexperienced coffee drinker, you see.

After scanning through the options, I made a decision and turned my attention back to the barista. "A cappuccino, please." I politely requested, feeling a bit nervous.

"A cup of cappuccino, what size?" he nodded.

I paused, more like my mind was loading. "A small one, please" I gestured with my fingers.

He nodded again, typing away on the computer. "A small cappuccino… anything else?"

"That's all, thank you."

"That'll be £2.50"

I rummaged through my bag, retrieved my wallet, and paid the amount. 

While waiting for my cappuccino, I took the time to scan the interior of the cafe. The sound of the coffee machine filled the air. The chairs and tables were made of dark wood, the red and beige walls looked pretty under the soft golden lights and a few potted plants were placed around the space. 

My eyes fell on a small table near the window. It was empty and looked like a perfect spot to sit and enjoy the view of the street outside. I patiently waited for my drink, feeling excited because I was done with the ordering and payments. 

"Your cappuccino." The barista slid the cup towards me. 

I thanked him, picked up my cup, and headed to the very table that had caught my attention earlier.

I settled into the chair and placed my cup on the table. I smiled to myself, that wasn't hard. It might sound silly but ordering a drink by myself felt like a small victory. 

The cup was a classic plain red china, filled with creamy milk and a foamy layer. It was only then that I noticed the colour scheme of the cafe– red and beige. Everything in the cafe was almost red, from the napkins to the barista's uniform. It was lovely, though I had yet to taste my cappuccino.

Bringing the cup to my lips, I felt the comfortable warmth from the cup around my fingers. I savoured a sip; it was velvety on my tongue and perfectly sugary. I felt content and satisfied. 

My ears were filled with the sounds of clinking cups and plates along with the low chatter of people. I slowly drank more, gazing out of the window at the street. The sun was almost setting, with people passing by and vehicles speeding past. 

Yesterday, I called my mum to share news of my new life in Bristol. I mentioned the flat and the flatmate I'm sharing it with. but I also politely requested her not to tell dad about this particular detail– that my flatmate happens to be a guy. He would never approve, so I asked her to just mention that I was living with a college student, without disclosing the gender.

When I first arrived in Bristol, Siya, my sister's best friend, came to pick me up. I stayed at her apartment until my enrollment procedure was completed. Once done with all the paperwork, I realized that the route to my college from there was annoyingly long. 

I took my time and did my best to secure an on-campus dormitory room, but unfortunately, they were already taken by the time I applied. I was frustrated and desperate for a place to live. I talked to my parents about my situation and  began my search for off-campus housing. Thankfully, I found a nearby flat for rent. Siya helped me a lot by doing half of the talking and research for me. 

The apartment I was renting was located in a very nice area within walking distance of the college. When Siya and I first visited, the landlord told us there weren't any vacant flats available. However, to my luck, he then informed us about the current tenant who was looking for a flatmate. Unfortunately, we couldn't meet him that day as he was on vacation, but he was fine with us checking out the flat. The landlord seemed to have a very positive impression of this young guy. 

"He's generous and a really sweet guy. You have nothing to fret about," he reassured us, mentioning that he had been living there for nearly two years. 

That was my chance. I knew it could easily be snatched up by another student, so after hearing all the good things about the guy, I took the opportunity and told the landlord that I was firm on renting it. He agreed and said he would talk to the guy to see if he was also okay with me sharing the space. 

I knew we were complete strangers and couldn't meet face-to-face to talk, but to my surprise with the little information given about me, he agreed. I was thankful. Siya was unsure but supported my decision. 

I knew I shouldn't make assumptions about this guy until I met him, but I told myself that even if he turned out to be a "bad influence" type, I would keep my focus on myself and my studies.

The first time I met him was when I was moving in and bringing my belongings. Harry Styles, my flatmate, was in his early twenties and currently in his final year at the same university as me.

I must admit, I initially felt intimidated by his confident and outgoing demeanor. However, he was kind and helpful. He assisted me around and even offered to lend me a hand in settling my stuff. I also immediately felt a flutter of attraction towards him– he stood tall and lean, exuding a rough boyish vibe that contrasted with his sweet personality. He was kind and respectful, and I felt at ease.

Beautiful. He was truly beautiful just to sit and gaze at. His emerald eyes were simply captivating, I couldn't even look into them during our brief interactions. His hair was a thick, soft mass of chocolate brown curls, that he always ran his hand through to push back. His lips—

Wait, wait, wait. Am I moving too fast? It hasn't even been a full week, but there's no denying that I'm drawn to him.

I sighed and stared at my empty cup, wondering when I finished it. I glanced out of the window, noticing the sun had set and the sky had turned dark. I felt a shiver of anxiety. I noticed a rowdy group of friends, who appeared to be college students like me. They were talking and laughing loudly.

I couldn't help but wonder what my college life would be like.

chapter 2 !!

[cocrante]

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 20]

THERE WASN'T MUCH TO DO THAT MORNING AT THE CAMP. MANY ACTIVITIES WERE CLOSED FOR THE WINTER SEASON. Jason suggested to Nico that they do something indoors to pass the time. Nico, shrugged, agreeing to whatever his friend had in mind. Jason then took him to do some manual work, which was quite popular among demigods in December.

"You could give him a vase" Jason suggested ironically as they entered the pottery workshop. "Not a chance" Nico replied, perhaps too seriously, following him into the workshop.

The interior smelled of wood and clay. As soon as the two boys stepped inside, they were embraced by the warmth of the fire. It wasn't by chance that this activity was so popular among campers in the winter. The two boys took a table for two, jokingly challenging each other to see who could do the worse job. Neither of them was very skilled in handicrafts; they preferred to leave those things to someone more talented and patient, but at the moment, it was a good excuse to spend time indoors and stay warm.

So they began to shape the clay, molding it as best they could. Most of the time—whatever they were making—ended up either too crooked or too lopsided, requiring them to start over from scratch.

Jason sighed several times; the vase he was making kept collapsing in on itself. "You're getting it too wet" Nico told him, who instead seemed to find the activity more enjoyable than expected. It was easier to push away anxiety when one's hands were busy.

"Do you think so?" he raised an eyebrow, thinking he had used the right amount of water. The boy beside him nodded, giving him the rest of his clay that he no longer needed.

At the end of the day, Jason won that bet, finding his own work all crumbled. Ceramics just weren't his thing. Nico's vase, on the other hand, turned out well.

"Are you going to paint something?" Jason asked, propping his elbow on the table to hold his head with one hand. Nico pursed his lips, staring at the vase that still needed to be fired. He wasn't much of a painter, but if he could, he would have liked to depict the danse macabre on it, even though it had little to do with the Greeks.

"I'll probably leave it as it is" he said. It wasn't worth voicing his thoughts.

In the distance, the conch shell sounded, signaling that time had really flown by that morning. They cleaned the dry clay off their hands, taking off the clay-stained aprons and patches of color. Along with the other demigods who had locked themselves in there, they headed towards the dining hall, and suddenly Nico's heart began to pound hard in his chest: Will's arrival at the camp was getting closer and closer.

It was difficult for him to eat lunch. He kept staring at the entrance of the camp, impatiently waiting for his arrival.

"You're making me anxious too, please relax" Jason said, putting his fork down. All the panic his friend was feeling was somehow transferring to him.

"What if I'm doing something stupid?" he asked more to himself than to the son of Jupiter. All that energy he had, those pep talks he had with himself in front of the mirror, suddenly all faded away. He wasn't so sure anymore if he could do it, if he could talk to him about his feelings; in reality, it was something he never did well. "You're just nervous" Jason told him, taking a sip from his chalice. "You'll see, once you're alone wirh him, it'll be fine"

Nico just sighed, looking at the grilled food on his plate: he really wanted to believe Jason's words, but it was so difficult to push away all those negative thoughts and fears that arose, and with every passing minute, it was getting worse.

After lunch, Nico managed to eat something, or rather he forced himself to. He said goodbye to Jason, who went to the Greek class; he had become good at translations, but the words were still difficult for him to pronounce. He often confused Greek terms with Latin ones.

Nico instead went to the entrance of the camp; there was no point pretending to do something while waiting for his arrival. He sat down on a cut log, propping his elbow on his knee to rest his cheek on his hand. Time suddenly seemed to slow down; the hours never passed, the minutes remained the same, and the knot in his stomach grew stronger. Then, at the end of the valley, a door closed, and the engine of a car started again. His heart literally leaped into his throat.

It was hard to see who it was because of a light mist, but as the demigod got closer, Nico slowly started to breathe again, relaxing his previously tense shoulders. He had forgotten that Percy also spent the winter at the camp with Annabeth—she had driven there with him. "Hey Nico!" Percy greeted, approaching his friend and leaving the suitcases with Annabeth. "What are you doing here all alone?" he asked, and before Nico could answer, he continued. "Come with us! You have to tell us a lot about New Rome" he dragged him away from the camp entrance. "You could have sent me a message once in a while" Percy muttered ironically. Nico had missed that suffocating guy.

"I had better things to do" he replied, leaving Percy taken aback.

"Like what?" Percy asked curiously. Annabeth also approached, curious about the conversation.

Nico averted his gaze from Percy's, his cheeks turning a little red. "Oooh!" the two exclaimed in unison, noticing his embarrassed face. "And what did you talk about?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing much" he briefly recounted the conversations they had had over those months, glossing over some small details.

"So he still doesn't know?" Annabeth concluded. Her boyfriend hadn't been able to keep the secret for long, but Nico no longer cared about that.

"No" he replied. "But he should be arriving at the camp today, so—" he didn't finish the sentence, it was obvious what he was about to say.

Together they went to the pavilion, there were many things they needed to catch up on, and then they had all the time to unpack their bags. Both Percy and Annabeth bombarded him with questions about New Rome, particularly about how he was doing there and if the people were friendly. They didn't want to end up with unfriendly neighbors. So Nico explained the situation that had arisen: it wasn't easy to get used to the changes, it would take years before everything was truly accepted. "Some tolerate it, I think, they understood what they were going against and preferred to abandon their ideals rather than end up in chaos" he explained. "Others are still sulking and would rather barricade themselves inside their walls than let their secrets out" he told them everything Reyna and Frank had explained to him in his first month in the new city. "So should we not expect a warm welcome?" Annabeth deduced. Nico simply shrugged. "Maybe not" he sighed, nervously glancing at the camp gate. He would arrive any moment now.

Without beating around the bush, the son of Hades got up, saying he was going to the bay. Percy gave him a thumbs up, wishing him all the best. Annabeth also gave him some courage, which was what he needed most at the moment.

He left the pavilion behind, heading towards the bay. At first, he hadn't thought about it, but suddenly he remembered that it had been the site of their first friends' outing, where Will had asked him to meet him that afternoon when he had gone to practice archery. He couldn't believe so much time had passed since then, it seemed like just a few weeks ago.

He sat down on a rock, staring at the waves and turning his back to everything else. He liked the sound of the sea, the surf breaking on the beach. It was somehow relaxing, as if the waves were carrying away his darkest thoughts.

The sun slowly descended, on the verge of being swallowed by the horizon. The bright, rosy colors of the sky turned purple, blending with the warm orange of the sun.

Behind him, he heard the sound of footsteps, mingled with the clinking of stones being moved. It was funny, but he was certain that even among a thousand steps, he would be able to recognize his. He turned towards that figure bathed in the late afternoon sun, which was now getting closer and closer. Nico stood up, his hands cold, and his heart in his chest seemed like it could burst at any moment.

"Percy told me I'd find you here" he said, nervously lowering his gaze. Will had probably noticed the place they were in.

"He told you right" replied the son of Hades, nervously playing with the ring he had on his finger. It was a gesture that Will had often seen him do when they were together. "I have to tell you something" added the son of Hades, staring into the blue of his eyes, which, as the sun set, took on various intense shades.

"Me too" the son of Apollo swallowed, approaching Nico.

It felt strange to Nico to see him in a burgundy hoodie and jeans instead of the usual orange camp outfit.

"Go first" Nico's heart started pounding harder as he approached Will, who was now only about thirty centimeters away.

"No, you" Will smiled awkwardly, encouraging him with a hand gesture to speak first.

"Okay, fine" he muttered, looking down at the ring he still hadn't stopped fidgeting with. "It's something important" he raised his gaze again as Piper had told him to do.

"Alright" the son of Apollo tried to hold back a laugh, it was funny to see him so nervous.

"Okay" he replied, taking some time to organize his thoughts. "I wanted to tell you that the weeks we spent together at the camp were the best of my life. I was scared at first to spend time together, afraid you might get tired of me like most people do" instinctively, he pursed his lips in a small grimace. "I'm not very good with these things, with feelings, words, living people in general— but I wanted to tell you that for me, the little time we spent together laughing and talking meant a lot. And that time you were right when you told me there's always time to make new and even better memories, you proved it to me every day we spent together. Both at the camp and through Iris messages" he looked into his eyes, and a delicate smile was slowly forming. "What I—what I mean is that I would like to build more memories... with you, Will" his cheeks flushed a bit.

Will curled his lips slightly, as if considering those words, stepping closer to Nico. A veil of silence fell between them; neither spoke anymore.

"So, Solace, did you get it, right?" Nico interrupted that silence, not knowing how else to say it.

The son of Apollo looked into those intense black eyes, sure that he understood. He smiled timidly, lowering his gaze to his own white fingers that never stopped playing with that silver skull-shaped ring. He nodded, bringing his attention back to Nico's tense face, which seemed impatient to hear his response. "I would like to build new memories with you too" he replied, smiling.

"Really?" Nico whispered, letting out a breath.

"Really" Will nodded, getting closer.

Once again, neither of them spoke, they let a silence fall interrupted only by the lapping of the waves breaking on the shore. Meanwhile, the sun was slowly setting to make way for the night. Nico bit his lip, he had never thought about what would come next, it couldn't end like this, perhaps even Will expected something and was now waiting for it.

"Well then—" Nico said quickly, interrupting that silence. "If you agree I'd like to start with this kind of memory" he took another step forward, placing a hand on Will's warm cheek, leaning towards his face to imprint his first kiss on his lips. Neither of them actually expected it; it was such a spontaneous gesture. That, and they both believed, would be the best memory. December finally acquired a different meaning for Nico and also for Will.

That kiss lasted only a few seconds, which for them seemed to last an eternity. They stayed staring into each other's eyes for a while, both with a smile on their lips and hearts beating fast.

Nico had never noticed it before, but Will smelled like sunscreen and wildflowers. The son of Apollo was right, he truly brought summer into the darkest and coldest day of the year.

[CONTENTS]

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20

[themegachessatron]

A Review of my time in Skyrim's Prisons (Featuring some followers): Riften Jail

Part 5 of my Skyrim Prison Review series. This chapter finally breaks the "every interior looks the damn same" chain by looking at Riften, Skyrim's capital of corruption, inequality and... fishing. I think that last one might be important.

Since my last review the inner circle has grown a few notches. Joining me this time is Dunmer heartthrob Teldryn Sero, Whiterun's finest donkey Lydia, Jordan the peak Riekling specimen and the returning Inigo and Sofia. Actually getting arrested and put into the cell here proved surprisingly difficult. We first tried punching one of the homeless people on the streets unprompted but nobody batted an eye when we did. Then I tried stealing food from a nearby cart but again, nothing. So for the third attempt I thought of a real humdinger. I went into the orphanage and suplexed the old lady running it so hard that her spine broke and she died instantly. The children in the orphanage were naturally very happy and- wait, happy!? I was shocked to find them all celebrating her death! I mean she was called Grelod the Kind for Diagna's sake! I swear, kids these days are so ungrateful! Nobody even called the guards! I murdered an innocent old lady without consequence and I have no idea why. In the end we had to literally beat a guard to death to finally get in enough trouble to warrant an arrest. So much hassle, and for what? Well let's see...

Riften's cell is oddly nice, with a full bed provided in each cell as well as a desk, lighting setup and chairs (no rug though, unfortunately). It was also quite cramped inside the cell with all us inside of it due to the relatively small floor size. Had we all not decided to investigate as a group this would've likely been far more adequate of a cell. There are even multiple other cells in this jail, so it's clearly built for capacity (Maven has a lot of enemies it would seem).

Attached to the back wall was a pull ring. The ring in question somewhat blended in with the dark colouration of the walls and pulling on it opened a secret entrance and revealed a secret tunnel behind the prison walls. The actual outline for the secret entrance was quite clearly visible so identifying it as a possible escape route was easy. Normally in this situation I'd leap at the opportunity to criticise the laziness of the guards in not being able to identify the obvious avenue for escape, likely by making some joke about them being more blind than a Falmer or the like, but given the very obvious and deep-rooted corruption in Riften hold (which on fear of my life I know nothing about), it's more likely the guards know about it but are paid to turn a falmer's eye. This isn't as bad as the guards being incompetent at their jobs. It's worse. It shows just how tarnished the internal systems of this city are and is beyond shameful.

Further down the path we were greeted by... a bathing spot? Excess water flow point? Fishing training spot? Given the large Riften fishing scene I'm inclined to assume it's the latter (See? Told you the fishing would be important!). Unfortunately when we arrived there were no fish in the water or indeed fishers-in-training doing their practice reels. Perhaps they were taking the day off?

The path continued downward to eventually lead to a sewer grate (very original, Riften. Veeeeerrrry original). We sent Jordan ahead first to ensure the path ahead wasn't too mucky and/or filled with waste. He (She? It?) was hesitant at first but a quick reminder of her (His? Its?) position in our tribe proved convincing enough to put its (I'm going with its) mind at ease.

We were dropped out of the grate into the depths of Lake Honrich. Hardly the most glamourous escape but it sufficed. Inigo wasn't particularly happy getting his fur so wet but the damage had already been dealt. We took this opportunity to return to the jail normally using guard armour and a few brilliant false moustaches as disguises to look at the space outside the cells.

As previously mentioned, there are a lot of cells in this jail, significantly more than most and the building is well-designed to accommodate these large cells. Though if the rather pompous-looking man in the top left corner is any indication some of the more well-off prisoners can quite easily obtain certain luxuries for their cell. It's also worth noting that (while not pictured above because I forgot to take a visual illustration of it at the time) the prisoner belonging chest is in a wholly separate room in the jail, multiple rooms apart from where the cells are located so no optimistic burglar is picking their cell lock, breaking into the belongings chest and retrieving their beloved Nightingale Boots easily, that's for sure!

Overall... wow. This jail is something else. Much like Riften itself it's simultaneously a brilliant location that operates highly efficently or the biggest sack of Chaurus droppings I've ever encountered. Much of it's defining strengths only exist due to deep seated corruption and the influence of one particularly angry middle-aged woman making them so (which again, I reiterate, I know *nothing* about). As such I can't in good faith call Riften Jail an adequate prison.

Final score: Three Nightingale Boots out of Ten Nightingale Boots

Thank you for reading this review. Next time we go slightly more formal and investigate Imperial HQ, Solitude and the Castle Dour Dungeons

[sicknessbysalem]

Novemetober (Rescheduled) | Day Five

@monthofsick | day five: undesirable caretaker

im not really feeling the last few days worth of prompts at this time, so i am going backwards and doing prompts that i was interested in

important note: as you may have seen @simplysickness asked me if i would take the reins of some of their old characters as they dont have time to write anymore. i have taken on the responsibility, but it is kind of scary. as it stands right now, i'm thinking i'm only collecting rowan/caspian and lex/soren. sparrow has told me i am welcome to make any background changes/turn the characters into my own (however, i speak with them often so i always get their approval first, lol). any hate/harassment will be blocked, as the original creator of these characters requested i take those reins.

now that that is out of the way it is fic time!

tw emeto, fever, implied abusive parent

Rowan knew this was going to be one of the worst state dinners to date. Granted, he thought that for every state dinner that he was forced to attend, but this one truly took the top spot for worst state dinners ever. And it hadn't even happened yet.

It started the day before they were supposed to leave. To catch their flight. He couldn't sleep, something didn't feel right. At the moment, he didn't feel sick, he just felt as though something was wrong. But it's the flight that solidifies both what was keeping him up, and that this state dinner would be the worst by far.

Rowan felt nauseous. Terribly so. Not even two hours in to the seven hour flight. He was dozing off while his mother was talking to him, giving him a run down of how his behavior should be. Every time he was dozing off, she would roughly nudge his arm to wake him.

"Listen to me," His mother demanded, "You need to behave, now more than ever."

"I'm listening, your highness," Rowan said, "You could have left me home."

"Absolutely not," The queen argued, "Not after your last stunt. Now, stay awake and listen."

Rowan tried, he did. But he was feeling worse and worse as time passed. Her words made him feel sicker, his mouth salivating and his throat growing tight. He didn't exactly have much faith in the idea that he wouldn't be sick before they even got where they were going.

"For the love of all things sacred," His mother said, "Listen. Can you do that for once?"

"I don't feel good," Rowan said softly.

"What did you say?" His mom asked.

Rowan took a deep breath, "I don't feel good. I feel like I'm going to throw up. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

The queen's eyes narrowed with disdain, "You can't be serious, Rowan. Not now.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan sighed, “Really.”

“This is so typical of you,” Isabella glared at her son, “You always find a way to ruin everything.”

Rowan knew there was no sense in fighting her reprimands. He wished Caspian was here. Or really, anyone who would at the very least not make it out like he was a terrible person for something he couldn’t help.

The airplane's descent only intensified Rowan's discomfort, and by the time they landed, he was pale and visibly unwell. The royal entourage awaited them on the tarmac, and as Rowan stepped off the plane, he could barely stand. His mother, however, paid no mind to his obvious distress.

"We have a schedule to keep, Rowan," she insisted, her tone unwavering. "You will compose yourself for the state dinner. I won't have you embarrass the family any further."

Barely able to muster a response, Rowan did what he did best. He faked it. He took a deep breath, stood straight, fixed his attire. If he could just keep his mother happy, maybe this would be easier to manage.

The vehicle that awaited them seemed like a sanctuary, but as they approached, the reality sank in that there was no reprieve for him. The queen insisted he join her in the car, despite his plea for a moment to collect himself. He knew that meant several things. The car's interior felt suffocating, and Rowan sank into the plush seat, desperately trying to suppress the queasiness gnawing at him. Queen Isabella, however, showed no sympathy.

"You're always making a spectacle of yourself, Rowan," she scolded, her eyes fixed on him in the rearview mirror. "Do you realize the inconvenience you've caused? We can't afford any more scandals. Certainly not from you, the crown prince himself."

Rowan winced, not from his stomachache but from his mother's relentless words. He nodded weakly, unable to meet her gaze.

"I truly thought sending you to the conservatory would fix you, but here we are, as always causing issues when you can just leave well enough alone," Queen Isabella declared, her disappointment evident. "You're supposed to be the crown prince, for heaven's sake, not a burden. Not after your sister.”

As the car sped towards their destination, Rowan clung to the hope that this ordeal would soon be over.

Deep breath. In and out. In and out.

Rowan stood in front of the ornate mirror, trying to muster the energy to prepare for the state dinner.

He had barely managed to shower and change into formal attire when a wave of nausea hit him with relentless force.

Rowan took his suit jacket off. Then took off the button up. His stomach felt horrendous, yes, but he forced himself to stay composed to eliminate ruining his attire. Saving himself a lecture if nothing more.

Rowan clutch the sink, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He swallowed saliva, acid, anything. He tried to suppress the nausea to not avail.

He felt his stomach convulse, pulling in with a gag. A sick burp, he spit acid tasting saliva in the sink.

He tried to breathe. He ran the sink. Closed his eyes to ease the dizziness. Nothing helped. The prince retched into the porcelain bowl. The sound echoed in the opulent bathroom.

His mother was probably settling in herself. She probably wouldn’t hear his struggles. Rowan heaved again.

A little more acid, but Rowan could feel there was more. Too much more to stay at the sink.

He went to the toilet, heaving as soon as the lid was up. He heaved so hard that he fell to his knees.

He threw up once. Mostly water, the drink one of the royal assistants gave him that allegedly should have helped him feel better. For a moment, Rowan realized how sad it was that assistants cared more for him than his own mother.

He threw up a second time. It wasn’t much. He was sure it was the little snack and small breakfast from that morning. But thinking about breakfast made him recall dinner and lunch from the night before, and soon enough chunky waves of vomit came up his throat.

A third wave. A fourth. A fifth. Dry heaving. Rowan’s throat was burning, his nose running, and his vision blurred from tears of exertion.

He stood unsteadily. His breaths were shaking and everything felt strange, weak. He flushed the toilet, he rinsed his mouth with the water in the sink. Even rinsed it with mouthwash, not trusting his stomach’s ability to tolerate brushing his teeth again.

He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed some water. He knew he would probably have to fake health, so the least he could do for himself is try to replace some of what he lost.

"I told you to compose yourself, Rowan," his mother's voice carried from the adjoining room. "We don't have time for your theatrics."

Rowan glanced at his reflection, his eyes reflecting a mix of evident sickness and frustration. The idea of attending the dinner seemed impossible, but Queen Isabella's relentless expectations loomed over him. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.

"I'm really not feeling well," Rowan managed to say, his voice strained. "I think I need to skip dinner. For both of our sakes." Queen Isabella entered the room, her expression stern.

"This is not the time for your excuses, Rowan. You will attend, and that's final."

As Rowan struggled to stand upright, a fresh bout of nausea overcame him. He felt weak and defeated, but his mother's gaze remained unmoved. He leaned on the closest counter for support.

"Enough of this nonsense," his mother snapped. "You're not ruining this for us. Get yourself together and show some respect for your position."

Rowan sat at the table. He didn’t even know who all was here. Each conversation was blending into a cacophony of polite pleasantries. The scent of rich foods and fine wines filled the air, but to Rowan, they only intensified his nausea.

With each forced bite and polite sip, his stomach rebelled further, churning with discomfort. He tried to engage in conversation, to maintain the facade of the dutiful prince, but his efforts were futile. Every word spoken was an effort, every smile strained.

His mother, Queen Isabella, watched him like a hawk, her disapproving gaze a constant weight on his shoulders.

“You're not touching your food, Rowan," she remarked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Are you trying to embarrass me even further?"

Rowan forced a weak smile, pushing the food around his plate. "Just not hungry, Mother," he managed to murmur, his throat dry and constricted.

But as the dinner progressed, Rowan's condition deteriorated rapidly. The room spun around him, and everything around him felt like it became a blur of colors and sounds. Desperately, he reached for his glass of water, hoping to quell the rising tide of sickness within him.

Yet with each sip, the nausea intensified, and Rowan knew he was fighting a losing battle. He glanced desperately at his mother, silently pleading for understanding, but her expression remained cold and unforgiving.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Rowan pushed himself away from the table, his chair scraping against the polished floor. "Excuse me," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "I need to… I'll be back."

Queen Isabella's eyes flashed with irritation, but Rowan paid her no mind as he stumbled towards the exit, the world spinning around him. He barely made it to the nearest restroom before the contents of his stomach emptied, his body wracked with spasms of nausea.

As he leaned against the cool tiles, tears pricking at his eyes, Rowan knew that his mother's disapproval would have to wait. In that moment, his only concern was surviving the night, one agonizing moment at a time.

He heard the door swing open. Queen Isabella stormed into the restroom, her expression a mix of anger and disappointment.

“Rowan, this is unacceptable," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air. "You cannot simply excuse yourself from the dinner without a valid reason."

Rowan tried to speak, but another wave of nausea overtook him. He doubled over, retching violently as his mother watched with a mixture of irritation and disdain.

He threw up everything he tried to force down. To make matters worse, it was almost entirely undigested. It hurt a lot, and Rowan could feel the way he struggled to catch his breath. Before going through another round of vomiting.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, Queen Isabella's tone softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident.

"Fine, you're clearly unwell," she conceded, her words laced with skepticism. "But we can't have a scene. I'll tell the others you suddenly fell ill. But mark my words, Rowan, this will not be forgotten."

With a dismissive gesture, she signaled for her assistant to assist Rowan.

"Take him back to the suite," she ordered curtly. "And make sure he stays there. I won't have him causing any more trouble tonight."

Rowan's heart sank as he was led away, the weight of his mother's disappointment heavy on his shoulders. He knew he should have been relieved to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the dinner, but all he felt was a profound sense of loneliness and despair.

As the night wore on, Rowan's condition only worsened, each wave of nausea more debilitating than the last. Alone in the suite with his mother, Queen Isabella's displeasure was obvious. She paced the room impatiently, her frustration evident in every sharp exhale and furrowed brow.

"I can't believe you're still not feeling well," she muttered, her tone tinged with annoyance. "This is highly inconvenient, Rowan. You know I have important engagements tomorrow, as do you."

Rowan sighed softly, spitting in the trash can by the bed.

"I don't have time for this," Queen Isabella continued, her agitation mounting. "And to top it all off, you won't be able to take your medication tonight. Do you realize what a mess you're causing?"

Rowan's heart sank at her words, the weight of her disapproval crushing him further. He knew his mental health medication was crucial for stabilizing his condition, but to his mother, it was just another inconvenience. Everything was an inconvenience to her and he wished he was back home. Back with Caspian, he would even take Linnea right now. Someone who saw him as a person, not a problem.

"I'm sorry, Mother," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the tumult in his mind. "I can't help being sick."

Queen Isabella's expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained evident. "Well, you'll just have to get better quickly," she replied brusquely. "I can't afford to have you dragging down our responsibilities with your problems. Especially not my responsibilities. Your sister was never this much of a problem to me."

With a heavy sigh, she settled into an armchair, her gaze fixed on Rowan with a mixture of disdain and resignation. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, the only comfort he found was in the hope that eventually, he would find solace away from the suffocating expectations of royalty and the unyielding disapproval of his mother.

[bluiex]

Okay I have a lot of things to say this morning (<- it is the afternoon but I just woke up) so I’m gonna go topic by topic in different asks

Firstly! Someone request pregnant scarian!! It’s unclear which one you wish to be pregnant! But, given that on this blog we have a tendency to say pregnant Grian (/nm) I’m gonna mix it up and say pregnant scar!! He’s ftm too for the sake of it

Anyway, Scar’s just hitting that point where what he can do is getting more and more limited.

He terraformed a massive cliffside last week, and he’s still suffering from aches from craving at the stone. His balance has been getting worse and worse, and the only reason he hasn’t died by fall damage at this point is because of Grian’s mother henning. They’ve been assured 100 times over by X that respawn won’t damage their fetus, but that doesn’t seem to help Grian’s instincts much.

For as much as Grian scolded him after that, he did also do it while massaging Scars feet and calves. So, Scar didn’t argue too much.

Unfortautely, turns out, while he was melting into the couch as Grian tug his fingers into a particularly tense muscle, Grian had gotten him to agree to limit his actions now.

Which, like, Scar understands, but he still hates. His body may be changing, but he still has the same amount of drive and energy for his projects! He wants to go finish that cliffside under Scarland, he wants to grind materials, he wants to keep building main street interiors!

Allegedly, the deal they made when Scar wasn’t paying attention, is that he can only work for 4 hours a day, and any extra time he spends will get taken out of the next day. Which is very stupid and controlling, in Scars opinion, but he doesn’t know how to articulate against it, especially because he knows Grian is trying to look out for his health.

Thankfully, Scar has friends with massive brains.

He’s telling Cub about this issue, one afternoon a few weeks later, and his dear best friend says something brilliant. “Why don’t you just, work as much as you can handle, and any overtime gets put into your recovery time?

“What’s he going do if you work 6 hours one day, and then 7 the next? That’s 7 hours overtime. But you just keep going. Obviously take time off as you need, but you’re only in your second trimester, right? So, just save all those hours for later, like the weeks before you’re due. And even better, they can carry over into recovery time! You could make him do the dishes or something every night because, oops, you’re on Grian-mandated break.”

Scar could’ve kissed him! A loophole! Absolutely genius!!

So, he did just as Cub said, much to Grian’s squawks of disagreement. And when Scar inevitably got closer to his due date, he began working less and less. The few weeks before his due date he hardly even left the nest Grian made, spending most of his time with his husband, Cub, or Mumbo, given they were the only ones allowed near.

(The Vex in Scar had agreed with many of Grians avian sentiments regarding the nest; namely, strangers stay far far away)

Everything paid off one night after their baby was born. They’d just gotten them to sleep, and were both exhausted. Scar lulled his head to the side to look at his husband and said, “Can you get me a bowl of cereal to eat?”

Grian meanwhile had been beginning to doze off, absolutely exhausted, right there on the couch. “You get it,” he grumbled.

“I can’t, I’m not allowed to work, remember?” Scars face spread into a slow grin. “I have about 140 hours of overtime to make up for.”

Grian groaned, long and drawn out, as he heaved himself off of the couch and began to trudge towards the kitchen, mumbling about Scar being a menace.

— abridged anon

I'M- Scar 140hrs- Cub is a genuious an Grian is the one with the consequences of his idea. Not that he minds too much- just didn't expect Scar to actually go this far with it LOL

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 38: Rescue

Listen and listen well: people who complain about this post being full of spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time series will be tortured like in the above image. This is your chance to get the hell away from my madness while you have a chance and I have no patience for anyone who is going to waste that opportunity. Block the tags, read the books, have a happy life!

This chapter has the Flame of Tar Valon as its icon, a reflection both of Moiraine's leading the rescue effort and of Lan's discussion of the factions within the White Tower.

Usually he collapsed like a wrung-out rag as soon as the Whitecloaks let him stop, but tonight his mind was racing. His skin crawled with dread that had been building for days.

Another favorable coincidence for our heroes. Frankly, Perrin and Egwene deserve to pass right out whenever they can after these hideous death marches they're being put through.

Light, how do I make them believe we aren’t Darkfriends when they’re already convinced we are? His stomach twisted sickeningly. In the end, he would probably confess to anything just to make the Questioners stop.

On the one hand, it's not very smart of Perrin to think that he can reason with these people when they've already established themselves to be very unreasonable. Also, killing two of someone's buddies is really no way to make friends.

On the other hand, it's very smart of Perrin to understand that the point of torture is to make the victims say whatever you want them to say. Unless he calls Egwene a whore or something I'm going to let him coast on this victory for the rest of this chapter.

Perrin tensed. Sometimes such a denial brought a lecture delivered in a grating near monotone, on confession and repentance, leading into a description of the Questioners’ methods of obtaining them. Sometimes it brought the lecture and a kick. To his surprise, this time Byar ignored it.

I have to wonder if it's Egwene getting kicked for having a smart mouth or if it's Perrin getting kicked for Egwene having a smart mouth. Both seem plausible with these fucks.

If Byar wanted them to escape? Byar, who was convinced to his marrow that they were Darkfriends. Byar, who hated Darkfriends worse than he did the Dark One himself. Byar, who looked for any excuse to cause him pain because he had killed two Whitecloaks. Byar wanted them to escape?

Oh wow, Perrin's actually thinking things through effectively this chapter! You go, Perrin. You don't even have to coast! Also, this accurately reflects your characterization as someone who seems slow because you think things through. I'm so happy.

Byar watched his changes of expression, and for the first time the Whitecloak’s eyes went to the rock he had tossed on the ground.

So, Byar doesn't know that Perrin's a wolfepath. I think what's going through his head is the realization that Perrin is a violent killer and the follow-up assumption that he might well take a rock meant to free him from his bonds and use it just effectively enough to bash someone else's skull in. Hence why he decides to kill Perrin now, because he's a dangerous man in multiple ways now that Byar miscalculated.

“Is it really . . . ?” Egwene gave a stifled sob. “We thought you were dead. We thought you were all dead.”

Speaking of people who's interiority we don't get to see right now, what has been going on in her head all this time anyway? Did she really think they were dead the whole time and was doing the dancing stuff as a "having survived a traumatic experience I'm going to throw myself into living as hard as I can"? Did she only give up hope when Perrin was so shitty about telling her they were alive or even later during the death march? I really don't know and every answer is fascinating in its own right.

He felt a prickle as it settled around his shoulders, a stab of worry between his shoulder blades. Was it Byar’s cloak he had ended up with? He almost thought he could smell the gaunt man on it.

There's something deeply symbolic about Perrin's terror that in reclaiming his axe and donning a disguise he's picked up something else, something worse, from the man he had to steal from.

A shadow stirred, and Moiraine’s voice came, weighted with irritation. “Nynaeve has not returned. I fear that young woman has done something foolish.”

What Moiraine's not saying is that Nynaeve preempted her signal here and that her fears are entirely justified since the gal just let off a thunderstorm. It wouldn't help her seem omniscient and inscrutable if she were forced to admit that the gang could so easily throw her off her schemes. Best to just roll with it.

Lan spun on his heel as if to return the way they had come, but a single whip-crack word from Moiraine halted him. “No!” He stood looking at her sideways, only his face and hands truly visible, and they but dimly shadowed blurs. She went on in a gentler tone; gentler but no less firm. “Some things are more important than others. You know that.” The Warder did not move, and her voice hardened again. “Remember your oaths, al’Lan Mandragoran, Lord of the Seven Towers! What of the oath of a Diademed Battle Lord of the Malkieri?”

Lan: Fuck my bond to you, fuck saving the world, fuck the Pattern, I'm saving Nynaeve!

Readers: Lan/Nynaeve comes out of nowhere.

Literally the only reason Lan doesn't ignore Moiraine right now is that Nynaeve comes back anyway.

“Elsewhere,” Moiraine replied, and Nynaeve muttered something in a sharp tone that made Egwene gasp. Perrin blinked; he had caught the edge of a wagoneer’s oath, and a coarse one.

Meaningless contest: Give me *your* ideas as to what Nynaeve said here. Bonus points to anyone who works in a nine horse hitch.

He still carried the white cloak, now rolled up and tied to his belt. The Warder said they must leave no more traces for the Children to find than they could help. He still thought he could smell Byar on it.

And there's gotta be more symbolism in the taint of Byar moving from something that covers Perrin directly to a mere tool on his belt.

“I believe they are in Caemlyn,” Moiraine said carefully, “or on their way there.” Nynaeve gave a loud, disparaging grunt, but the Aes Sedai went on as if she had not been interrupted. “If they are not, I will yet find them. That I promise.”

Nynaeve has a different approach to Aes Sedai bullshit than Lan's "You're dodging the question": make rude noises until they become specific enough for her liking. Their mutual contempt for the First Oath is just one of the many ways they're perfect for each other.

“You look surprised,” Nynaeve said. She looked a little surprised herself, and strangely frightened. “Next time, you can go to her.”

"Fuck you Perrin if you don't like the goop you can get Aes Sedaied! Respect me or be thrown to the witches!"

Nynaeve is always so delightfully extra.

“There was no foretelling this.” Moiraine spoke as if to herself. Her eyes seemed to look at something beyond him. “Something ordained to be woven, or a change in the Pattern? If a change, by what hand? The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. It must be that.”

You could try asking him, you know. Reassuring yourself that everything is fine, the situation is totally under control, most of the party is already back together and you totally know where the other dipshits are is all well and good when you are lucky enough to be on the right track, but what if you weren't?

“And most of what you’ve heard is wrong, no doubt. You must understand, there are . . . factions within Tar Valon. Some would fight the Dark One one way, some another. The goal is the same, but the differences . . . the differences can mean lives changed, or ended. The lives of men or nations. He is well, Elyas?”

You can tell that Lan does not remotely give a fuck about Perrin or his well-being except to the degree Moiraine tells him to by the way that he's so brutally misleading Perrin. The Red Ajah's reputation is pretty accurate even in empty farm country and the largest united faction in Tar Valon wouldn't fight the Dark One at all. Lan knows both of these things and if it were Rand in this sticky spot he'd be getting a full rundown of all Black Ajah activity that Lan and Moiraine had personally foiled.

“The Dark One can’t touch us unless we name him.” Immediately Perrin thought of the dreams of Ba’alzamon, the dreams that were more than dreams. He scrubbed the sweat off his face. “He can’t.”

Oh hey Perrin, you really are on a roll this chapter. Like, you're not right on this statement in particular, but the thrust of what you're saying - that the Shadow (or for that matter, the Light) can't choose you to serve it, only you can make that choice (bar being transformed so utterly as to effectively be dead) - is an important theme in these books.

“The walls of the Dark One’s prison. This may be the end of an Age. We may see a new Age born before we die. Or perhaps it is the end of Ages, the end of time itself. The end of the world.” Suddenly he grinned, but his grin was as dark as a scowl; his eyes sparkled merrily, laughing at the foot of the gallows.

Frankly Lan is talking so much here that I can only conclude that he's been pulled into Perrin's ta'veren effect. That said, this is perhaps the first clear indicator that Lan is deeply unwell in his own way, so effortlessly casual about the end of the world because he assumes he's going to die in the next few years anyway. His own worldview is deeply nihilistic and he really does think that at any point any of them could be turned to the Shadow. Part of that must be some personal experience with the 13x13 arrangement and/or men like Ingtar, but I think that in general he's so internalized the doomed war his childhood prepared him for that now that the stakes are changed he can't help but assume it's all doomed anyway.

But we're at the end of this chapter, so I can stop trying to figure out the psyche of everyone around Perrin and relax. Next time, we return to Rand and get our first view of the most poorly constructed palace walls of all time!

[jeremywhitley]

May I ask what it's like to write for a character with the intent to explore their sexuality?

I haven't been a comic reader for a long time, and got into them by reading Excalibur because I was told from a friend that Rachel, Betsy, and Rictor were queer

And then that friend told me about the history of these characters and how a lot of older comics sort of play with the idea of them being queer but never explicitly is explored or stated until much later. Idk if it's just me but it seems like a lot of recent X-Men runs have kind of flirted with the idea of fluid sexuality with their characters.

So the crux of my question is really; what is the steps that are taken when you're writing about sexuality in a comic? Especially for new characters who are passed to new writers. Do you discuss the idea with their original creator or is there this kind of implied trust/understanding that that character is now in the hands of their new writer for better or worse?

Whew, this is a tough one, especially considering the point we're at in the story right now. I'm gonna try and answer it anyway, but do keep an eye out for the interview myself and the rest of the creative team did with Marvel.com which should be out later this week.

Part of the job when you work for Marvel or any other corporately owned creative entity is knowing and accepting that you have the time on the book that you have and that someone else may be writing that character later - or maybe even concurrently if they're on a team or guest staring in other books. For me, I know there came a point where I asked myself the question "would I rather someone else write this character and perhaps take their story in a direction I'm not thrilled about or would I rather this character just cease to exist and disappear from continuity after this?

Maybe it's that I'm not too precious or maybe it's that I have a tendency to fall in love with every character I write, but I would rather they continue to appear and that I see other writers pick them up and give them new stories to tell. There's not character I've written that I haven't been happy to see again six months, a year, or five years down the line. Al Ewing recently just reused a bad guy I created for Unstoppable Wasp and I was thrilled that anyone remembered them. I would be less enthusiastic if somebody decided to start publishing stories about the characters from say, Princeless, which is my creator owned comic, but when it comes to corporate comics that's the price you pay for getting to write Spider-Man.

As for sexuality, for me it's always important not to think of the discovery or revelation of a character's sexuality as "a twist". Everything you're doing should be backed up by what's already there, even if that means maybe adding the context of interiority and feelings to what was there before. Unfortunately, some audience members are never going to see or understand what experiences or relationships might shape somebody's journey and are going to have objections, but as a writer all you can do is lead the reader to queer water. You can't make them drink.

Just like with any decision characters make, you want to make it make sense. I have had the experience of knowing what I want a character's sexuality to be and not being able to write it as I wanted to, but in the case of Gwenpool I have been very lucky that there was an open editorial team with a vision for where they wanted this story to end and it was my job to make it get there in a way that's satisfying for Gwen and the readers. It's really nice to tell a queer story in the Marvel Universe knowing that a character will be able to say who and what they are and I appreciate the current Marvel team for making that possible.

[livelovesimallways]

Although it's been months since Deanna moved out for her own "piece of mind", it seems like she has yet to attain it.

(Previous)

"What the hell is your problem Dee?"

"Well for starters, I came here to spend quality time with my sister and so far its been all about posting to your socials. It's giving obsessed."

"Obsessed?? It's called engaging with my followers and making sure I provide content."

"Yeah, that content being, all luxury shit and Sean every damn day." *rolls her eyes* "You're bragging and there's nothing more to that. You've changed and its only getting worse."

"Girl bye! Let me school you since you’re so damn opinionated. That luxury shit and my fiancé have garnered over half a million followers on Simsta. People are only interested in what you have and who you're with. There's an allure to seeing things that most will never have. The bags, shoes, clothes, cars, trips, and a NBA baller, are what sells. I get paid by brands to post based on follower count and engagement. You do the math. That's only what it's about. What I'm doing is no different than your idols Wayda and Ari, so please cut it out.”

"They have businesses, so they're much more than that. Where's yours? What happened to interior design? You did Leah's bridal shower, her new closet, and her some of mother in law's home. You got paid for that, yet it's posted nowhere. Like I said, it's just bragging and I'm probably not the only one who notices...Especially with the arrangement you and your fiancé have."

"You need to watch where you're going with that."

"Do I!?" She yells, as Sean perks up. "He's allowed to sleep with other women as long as he follows your silly ass rules! What are they again?...wrap it up, only while he's away, no repeats, and don't let it come back to you. With all this posting, someone is bound to get upset or clout chase and come forward. I'm sure he ain't following all those rules. Fuck you gonna do then?"

Dana stood silently in shock, soaking in everything her sister just said to her. At this point, she didn't know whether to beat her ass or genuinely listen to some of it. Sean on the other hand, was pissed and hauled ass towards them.

"Na...not in my mothafuckin house...Dee you need to get the fuck out!"

"Get out for telling the truth? Humph, I'll go, but it doesn't make anything less true. You're a scumbag and she let's it ride! Dana please stand the fuck up!" *starts walking towards the front door*

"She's just mad and lonely! How's your sugar daddy treating you!?" *stares at Deanna getting her things* "Baby, please don't listen to shit she says. She wishes she had that ring and your lifestyle. You did your best to help her. She chose to leave and ain't shit happen for her since. She's jealous...probably been that way."

"You're probably right..." *hears the door slam* "...But I feel like there's something more to it. I don't know. I'll give it a few days and once she calls to apologize, I'll get it out of her."

"I don't know. The way she's acting, she's liable to say anything wild. Remember you said she lied to her boyfriend in college? Claimed she was pregnant and got an abortion to guilt him into coming back?...Yeah, she can get a little crazy. Just don't worry about her. She'll be fine and this will blow over."

Next

[sclfmastery]

I posted 2,442 times in 2022

458 posts created (19%)

1,984 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mostincrediblechange

@the-patrex

@themastergifs

@conduitandconjurer

@koscheioakdown

I tagged 1,750 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#ooc - 520 posts

#ic - 189 posts

#master of a nothing place (dhawan) - 171 posts

#dw spoilers - 158 posts

#i'm alive (simm) - 118 posts

#thoschei - 63 posts

#meta - 50 posts

#lol - 46 posts

#lmao - 45 posts

#ownership enough (ten) - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#for the longest time thirteen was my favorite doctor because her seeming optimism was an antidote to twelve's horribly depressing end

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

This is the most perfect encapsulation of what I do with every single piece of canon, LOL.

100 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

#4

There was nothing in sight But memories left abandoned There was nowhere to hide The ashes fell like snow And the ground caved in Between where we were standing And your voice was all I heard That I get what I deserve

So give me reason To prove me wrong To wash this memory clean Let the floods cross The distance in your eyes Give me reason To fill this hole Connect this space between Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies Across this new divide

(He’s baaaack...... )

108 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#3

also is no one talking about how the Master’s new TARDIS is a reflection of an utterly deranged, past-all-hope mindset of hostile yet desperate mimicry? its interior is a complementary foil and ideological inverse of hers:

LITERALLY, the same exact structure, to “mock” her, yes, but come on. It’s more than that, and so are the outfits. I called this years ago and again one month ago. He is so preoccupied by the fact that they are no longer equals, because his identity is a REACTION to HERS.  to have no selfhood anymore because he can no longer claim to be her peer has BROKEN him.  LITERALLY THIS INTERIOR IS A PHYSICAL MANIFESTATION OF THE INSIDE OF HIS MIND. BRIGHT AND COLD AND BLUE AND PURPLE LIKE A BRUISE, WHEREAS HER TARDIS IS WARM YELLOWS AND GOLDS AND LIKE A BREATH OF LIFE.

i wish someone could capture and rehabilitate him. like i literally want him to go to a mental health facility. this is only going to get worse each time he reappears. i want to laugh about the gimmick of it but it’s actually DEEEPLY tragic??? 

121 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

#2

(Very) belated happy birthday, @mostincrediblechange, my creative partner in crime ;) 

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn Remember me, love When I'm reborn As a shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn --Hozier

144 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So to jump off of a Tweet I made (I’m Ambs): 

No but really. Indulge me for a moment.

The Master thinks of Tecteun’s discovery of the Timeless Child as a despicable disgusting thing; he’s too angry and hurt at the Doctor to consciously recognize that his disgust isn’t just at “everything I am is somehow because of you”--it’s ALSO at the fact that his best friend was killed over and over and experimented on as a child AS THE FOUNDATION OF AN ENTIRE CIVILIZATION. 

The civilization to which HE belongs, which HE always thought entitled him to something akin to godhood ( “I’m a Time Lord, I have that right,” said Simm Master, during Ten’s era).  Which, after absorbing the entire Matrix and all its knowledge, he is now aware is a GENOCIDAL LIE (“everything you know is a lie,” Spyfall Part 1).  Including his identity. Far more importantly, including HER identity. “Call me by my name,” he demanded of her, on her knees (because, Doctor, you have always defined me and you always will, and I’m learning that’s inescapable. I have no autonomy, control, or mastery, over anything). 

But the Master is nothing if not obsessive. He can’t let it go. He can’t accept this: especially after having been Missy in the Vault for 70 years, trying to placate the Doctor by “turning good,” and ending up killing and being killed by herself as thanks for it. So he’s off to work. First the Spyfall plot, including the encoded message (”why should I make it easy for you? It wasn’t for me”): that falls through quickly, and gives him 77 years among the worst pockets of humanity and human history, more pain and resentment in which to marinate. 

 Next, he absorbs the Cyberium and creates the Cyber Masters (the corpses of the Time Council and Lords, who have KNOWINGLY reaped the benefits of genocide, mutilated into Cybermen with the Doctor’s DNA).  This is all mere ritual: he has no real desire to follow through with conquering the universe. He wants to die. He begs the Doctor to kill them both with the Death Particle. Then at last they’ll be equals again. She refuses, runs (because unlike him, she has other people to live for), and lets a human try to kill him instead. This won’t do.

So he escapes, and chooses to live a little longer. 

Now, in Power of the Doctor, he decides, okay, if I can’t just kill us all, this awful lie of a “great civilization” build on the predation of my childhood best friend, I’m going to make it so that this entire scenario never occurred to begin with. He drops the Doctor a hint--as one always does, in the best of cat and mouse games (though he has told us, now, in his deepest state of despair, “it isn’t a game”).  What’s the hint? 

“This is the end of your existence. You will be ERASED.”

It’s that word--erased--that draws ALL my attention. Someone on Twitter noticed that what the Doctor is standing inside, when we see her regeneration energy being activated, and hear her calling “YAZ,” looks an awful lot like a LOOM.

Why’s that important? Because looms synthesize Time Lord offspring using  genetic sequences. 

So logically, they can undo those genetic sequences too. 

What would happen if the Master robbed the Doctor of identity as completely as he has been robbed?  In his mind, what makes her special, deserving of adulation, is her capacity to be immortal.  He misses the idea that they are equals and foils.  If he can’t make them equal again with a simple double suicide,  then maybe he can extract the parts of her DNA that make her (in his mind) special.  

Maybe the scene that we THINK is Thirteen’s regeneration is just a loom the Master is using to remove her ability to regenerate, period.  And she’s screaming for Yaz because something has happened to Yaz, and if she can’t heal her with regeneration energy, Yaz will die.   

And maybe the Master is TAKING that ability from her, to BECOME, in his mind, a SUPERIOR DOCTOR. 

What if he’s found some way to prevent Tecteun from ever finding her--some causal chain of events that necessitates abducting earth seismologists and wiping certain famous earth artists from existence such that their paintings never existed (or maybe just the paintings, that’s not clear yet)? What if that’s why the Daleks were contacting the Doctor of all people for help--they are noticing parts of their history changing or going missing. 

What if the Master has been able to create a functional temporal paradox (this might explain the two earths and two TARDISes) so that he and his “children” the Cyber Masters can go on existing, but simultaneously, the Doctor and the other Time Lords never came into being? 

“You will be ERASED.”

269 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS - Chapter 43 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Samuel Moretti

Lie after lie.

I didn't get it and I was getting worked up over it.

I stood in Noah's older brother's bathroom, pacing.

I felt nauseous that I was the only one who knew how badly Noah's dad treated Noah and I didn't even know much, so Noah could be experiencing far worse than I see on the surface.

Yet Noah won't say anything.

Won't confess to the abuse or that Noah's dad already knows about us.

I wanted to scream at Noah and shake Nathan.

Did Nathan honestly believe Noah when he claimed his dad wasn't abusive anymore?

But, I had started catching on to Noah.

Noah was a good liar and it was bothering me.

Bothering me that Noah would rather get beat than to ask for help.

Hell, he didn't even have to ask for help, Nathan was offering it.

Nathan was the one asking if Noah was alright.

All he had to do was say 'no'.

I didn't understand why he protected his father so much.

There was a knock on the door followed by.

"Sam?" I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my emotions before I opened the bathroom door for Noah.

He stepped inside.

"They're ordering Chinese food," he told me with a smile.

"Hmm," is all I responded with. Noah's hands went to my waist.

"What's wrong?"

"Why won't you tell Nathan about your situation with your father? I just don't get it."

"Ugh, Sam," he removed his hands from me so he could run them over his face like he was exhausted.

He looked at me.

"I just don't want this night to be like that. You don't know Nathan, he can be very impulsive and angry."

I smirked.

"Sounds like someone I do know," I commented.

Noah rolled his eyes.

"Maybe but trust me, he's chill now but if I told him about dad, Nathan would go off."

"I wouldn't mind it if he did," I muttered, not looking at Noah until he placed his hand on my chin and made me look at him.

"Please. I just want this night 'Nate getting to know you' to be perfect. Okay? Please, don't be upset. I'll tell him."

His big brown eyes were pleading with me and I knew how much me meeting his brother meant to him, so I caved.

Giving Noah a small smile.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Thank you, Sam and I will tell him, just not tonight, okay?" Noah promised again as he pulled me into a hug.

But like I said, Noah was a good liar and I fell for it again. 

********

So, Noah and I went back out and played Super Smash Bros Brawl with Nathan and Maggie until food arrived.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly.

We all ate dinner and talked about random things.

Nathan and Maggie both seemed to like me.

Maggie and I especially got along, talking about fashion and she told me that she was in college for interior design.

Nate and Noah lost interest real soon after that.

By ten o'clock, Noah and I said our goodbyes and walked down to the parking garage that was attached to their apartment.

A couple minutes into the drive, I spoke...

"Wanna go to my place? It's the weekend, so you could... um... I mean if you want... you could... um.... spend the night?" I suggested awkwardly.

Noah had obviously spent the night before but every time I asked him, I couldn't help but feel anxious and giddy at the same time.

"You're so cute when you get flustered. Makes me wanna take you right now in this car," Noah said seductively.

My eyes widened at his bluntness and I'm a hundred percent sure my face was a tomato.

I bit my lower lip to refrain from smiling.

"Baby, you know biting your lip is such a turn on for me. Oh, the things I would do to you if you weren't driving."

Oh my God, Noah.

What was he doing to me.

"Like what?" I dared to ask.

"Well first off, you'd be on my lap, straddling me, while my hands roamed your entire body. I'd kiss your perfect lips then I'd..." Noah stopped mid-sentence when he saw me quickly change directions and turn right into the parking lot of a small strip mall.

Being that it's so late, all of the stores were closed but I parked in the way back anyways.

I took off my seat belt, climbed over the center console of Patricia and sat down on my boyfriend's lap, straddling him like he told me.

"Well, damn," Noah said, unbuckling his seatbelt as well right before I crashed my lips to his, eagerly.

I wouldn't normally do something like this but Noah was practically begging for it.

[aslanscompass]

The Star Beast liveblog

Below cut to avoid spoilers

Don't like the new title sequence. It just makes me think of steel wool.

Donna giving away all her lottery money.... not sure. Just odd. Like, she would, but Shaun's attitude is a bit weird

Nobody who hasn't seen RTD's first run would know why he's reacting so strongly to the name Rose.

Not a cyberman, then.

The bubble things on the street are just distracting. I get it supposedly means future, but it's weird enough....

Donna's little speech about 'burning down the world' feels too rehearsed.

Okay, so 15 years since End of Time. So 2024, plays out fine, but the bubbles are just annoying. Still doesn't catch that Rose would be Donna's bio child. Not for racial reasons, age- wise .

That puppet just is weird. Not quite creepy, just odd

Yes, I am going to MST every moment of this. It's for posterity.

.....

Alright, it's for me three years down the line, when I'm reviewing this whole season

Good on not-yet-named UNIT member. Shirley? Yes, Shirley. Want Osgood. Want Kate. /Osgood/ should be scientific advisor.

THAT swirly light thing is not good. Possession? Yes, possession.

Their tactical gear is wrong. All black is totally off.

Meep should totally not talk. The TALKING is wrong

It looks like the Meep got larger, size is iffy.

OH YES,, mind-control

NO! Wait, was he in this?

Pronouns! eyeroll

Anti-fur part.....

goes to search for Bernard Cribbins on IDMB. oKAY, good. He's in The Giggle. It totally felt wrong to have a fake-out that he's gone when he's, like, actually gone.

Using the sonic to create a force field? That's a new setting

This is so wrong. Not at all Kate's UNIT

I bet the one guy with a head covering was supposed to be a statement. Just seems like foolishness. Wear the helmet, for Pete's sake!

Voices are so weird. It just doesn't sound like an alien. Gotta check h if the background here matches comics.

VOICEs are too weird

What kind of Mad Max platform is the meep on?

And honestly, it would have been much creeper if he'd stayed innocent looking and cute,

Cool generade-launching chair.

does the sonic have a wisk setting now?

What is it with Tennant and glass walls?I

Another pouty tantrum. Doesn't look good on him.

Mental code. People are all gonna be analyzing those words for months.

Still makes him look like a jerk in EOT.

hmmm. Still not feeling it

MURRAY GOLD music! Very much missed

The reverse earthquaking/faultlines are so very much wrong

OKAY, THAT'S even worse. SO MUCH STUPID.

And she /can't/ be the right age. Absolutely no. Donna's "breakdown:" was 15 years ago, and I highly doubt she was pregant at the time.

SO much fake posturing. thIS IS SO STUPID.

' magical trans person.' CHECK

TARDIS interior? Stairs are good, open interior is good after the claustrophobia of Whittaker's TARDIS. but all the round things are just like, connect 4 board.

[heartfullofleeches]

I love the husband x monster reader so muchhhh. If it's not too much, I'd like to ask for a continuation. 👉👈 But that's all up to you ofc. Either way I still wanted to tell you how great it was.

part (1)

Warning: light body horror

It was a cold autumn evening. The smell of rust was heavy in the air, omitting from two worn out iron doors. The decrepit metal it was hinged to stood in the vague shape of a building; windows shatteres and frames wrapped from time. Paint peeled away, and ceiling caved in on one side. Collectively, the building was a death trap before you even stepped inside. That still didn't stop one young man from walking in - heart and a bouquet of roses in hand.

"Hello?"

Evan called out, his voice bouncing off the aged walls. As one would guess, the interior was worse off than exterior. Cobwebs at every corner, holes in the floorboards. Air so dense you could cut it with a knife. Evan didn't match his surroundings at all. Like a diamond in a garbage can, he was dressed in a semi-formal suit and his hair neatly combed back. It had been a while since his last date, but he was dressed to hopefully impress.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, checking his messages to make sure he wasn't early. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact his crush asked him out before he had the chance to mess it up himself. He was a shy guy, the only conversations the two shared prior being wishing each other a good morning and the latter asking him for a pencil to borrow.

After class a few days back; friends in tow, his crush had asked him if he'd like to meet up sometime. He was slightly skeptical, but the smile on their face kept his attention. They told him to meet him after dark today at the run down building a few miles from campus. Red flags were flying for sure, but his weak heart gave them the benefit of the doubt.

Biting his lip, Evan wonders if he should call them. They're twenty minutes late by now. Would he seem needy if he called? Desperate? That's the last thing he wanted, but he was starting to get antsy.

Taking a deep breath, he hits the call button. The tone rings for too long to be anything good. Just when he goes to hang up, the line connects.

"Yeah?..."

"He-Hey, Sam. It's me, Evan. I was just wondering when you where going to show up. I was a bit early, but-"

The sound that leaves them pierces his ears. They're laughing. A laugh without an ounce of remorse. Shrill - pitying.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that. I completely forgot, but you have to wonder. Did you really think it would work out for us?"

His phone hangs limp in his hand; their laughter continuing seconds more before the line finally disconnects. He can still hear it. Mocking him. Making him even smaller than the room already had. Tears form. Whether from frustration or sadness; he had no idea.

Evan tosses the flowers to the grow. Disgusted by them; by how easily he believed someone else again. He let out a heart broken wail; falling to his knees with his arms to his chest. He tries to breath through sobs, but its so difficult. Why was everything in his life so hard. Why was no one there for him.

Step.

Something lands in the shadows. A wet slap against the concrete that echoes outward.

Step.

Evan doesn't look up. The shadows peal away as the silhouette creeps out into the moonlight. Their eyes shift towards him.

Step.

He finally looks up as the light becomes shaded; terror taking hold over the grief. The creature was easily a foot taller than him, human aside from complexion and thin spines growing from their back. Their skin seemed to glow from the light of the heavenly blood; head shifting as they inspect his huddled up form.

"What.. what are you?"

They don't respond; taking yet another step forward. He hand-crawls backwards, but doesn't move far; fear right in his chest yet the will to run not there. They reach a hand forward. He shuts his eyes. He's afraid, but at the same time feels nothing at all. Trembling; but hoping for a swift end.

The rustling of leaves cause him to peal his eyes open once more. The creature had the bouquet of roses in their hands; clutched securely as they smell them. They plucked one from the group, petals still wet from watering a few hours a go. There's a small crack as the skin around their neck tears, tongue slithering from the hole to wipe across the flower. The blood red petals become drenched in a grayish saliva; deteriorating by toxins within. The creature shoves it in their new mouth, chewing the bud and letting the steam fall to the floor.

They eat another, and another; Evan started without clear direction on what to do. After a while, they stop, looking back down at him with expression else. He tenses up again, hands shaking. They seem to stare into his eyes, looking at the redness of them. The tears that stained his face. They pull another rose free, and drop it into his lap.

"Huh...." He looks at it. Then them. Then the room. With his eyes adjusted, he can make out more things in the area. A mattress in one corner; broken chairs around a table with a hole filled sheet over. He looks back at the creature.

"Are... you all alone?"

The creature simply stares, as if trying to decipher his words. After a few beats, they speak.

"Alone..." Their voice is raspy. As if they've never spoken a day in their entire life. Despite common sense screaming at him, Evan asks another question.

"Are you lonely?..."

The creature speaks again, something like sadness in the back of their throat. "Yes..."

Evan swallows the saliva that had been collected at the back of his mouth. They were in the same boat as him, even with their....different appearance. He had nothing to lose by offering his time, and possibly everything to gain. He slowly stands, it being the creatures turn to cower as they step back. He holds out his hand, smiling nervously.

"We... we can be alone together if you want."

You take it. He notes how soft yours feels.

"Okay.."

-

Evan runs his fingers along the withered petals glued to a cream colored page with tender care. He's grinning from ear to ear, the larger head atop his looking down at the book in his lap.

"Look, honey! It's the rose you gave me on our first date!"

"Can our first encounter really be classified as a date?"

He thinks for a moment. "Mmm I think I said I love you after the third so I think all of them can count."

He laughs. As fate would have it, that day turned out to be the luckiest of his whole life. He found the love of his life, and his best friend on top of that. You moved into his apartment shortly after, kept a secret from prying eyes in the comfort of his bed. He eventually joined you after sleeping many nights on the couch, and hardly left your side since. It hasn't been long since you moved into your forever home together, nor since you said "I do", but you both know your love will last till the end of time. He'll make sure of it.

Evan buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing right where your other mouth was hidden. He wraps his arms around you tightly, every moment with you causing his heart to swell more. His confidence, his light, his everything.

"I'm so glad that old crush ghosted me." He sighs dreamily, picking up your large hand to kiss the knuckle where your ring lied. "Who knows where'd I'd be right now. Probably trapped in a loveless relationship I suppose."

"You're such a dork." You mutter. He had taught you a lot over the duration of your relationship, one of your favorites being the little nicknames you both called each other. You turn your head to look down at him; you both sharing a moment of silent passion before you lean down to kiss him.

Evan pulls away, your lips close to touching again as he smiles. "You know, that person asked me if I wanted to go for coffee a few weeks back. I obviously ignored them, but are you in the mood for a fresh meal, my sweet?"

You playful push him back into his side of the couch. "Don't be mean."

"You're right." He chuckles, fixing the book that felt down his leg."Stooping to their level is low, and I don’t want you getting a stomach ache over low quality meat. I'll just get rid of them if they ever come near me again! Should we get back to looking through the album? I want to get to our wedding day before it gets to late."

If you were a monster, there was no telling what he was, other than your adoring husband ready to get rid of anything that might jeopardize your love.