#was it worth it? was it worth all my pain

[5sospenguinqueen]

Lullabies Pt 2 | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Max left without letting you fully explain. Nearly a year later, he realises he made a mistake when he thinks you're moving on.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst but also fluff. Redemption arc.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2021 with slightly altered timelines.

Part 1

Main Masterlist

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Oct

YourUserName just posted

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet and others

YourUserName a huge thank you to everyone who came to my album release concert! 🥀 a huge apology to anyone who missed out but after such a phenomenal crowd this evening, i'm pleased to announce the GUTS tour coming 2022!!

11,998 comments

User1 a tour!!! release the dates/countries now please and thank you

User2 mother treating us

User3 okay but when she SANG The Grudge with the tears rolling down her cheeks, poured her whole soul into that

→ User4 omg yes, you could legit feel the pain in your own chest

→ User5 no no no because what about the gasp through her sobbing at The Stranger

User6 nobody can tell me that Obsessed wasn't written as a kelly piquet pov

→ User7 haha literally because y/n has never said a bad word about this woman but she is all up in her business 

→ User8 and all up in her likes too from what i saw

User8 not my delusional ass hoping it’s max and that the lighting just made his hair darker

User9 love how she’s still featured on the wags page despite her and max not being a couple for 10 months now

→ User10 legit. they post her more than kelly

User11 i bet max is kicking himself for letting her go now that someone else has realised how much she’s worth 

FutureF1Wag i need to know where f1 wags got that pic from because it’s SOOO much clearer than the one i got

User12 okay but where can i get a man like that because that kiss looks hawt!

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Nov

YourUserName just posted a new story

lilymhe have the best time, babe. brunch debrief tomorrow?

→ YourUserName 11?

→ lilymhe absolutely 

YourBestFriend oo look at you being treated right 

→ YourUserName i know. how sweet

they're sooo pretty as well

→ YourBestFriend you’ve had bigger though 

→ YourUserName don’t do this today 

→ YourBestFriend sorry. be safe. text me when you’re home 

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Dec

User1 max really said, just because i didn't want her doesn't mean anyone else can

→ User2 be serious, he clearly loves her. he just confused his priorities for a hot second

User3 the way these rumours have been floating since max and kelly went social media official though. like everyone has constantly said they're on the rocks since we found out about them

→ User4 literally. like i loved max and y/n but they've both moved on. people are just creating drama because they can't accept that max and y/n aren't together anymore

User5 no because y/n is literally max's forever after and nobody can convince me otherwise

User6 max and y/n are literally each other's one true love. kelly was just the poison apple that leads to their true love's kiss

User7 y/nstappen shippers rise!

User8 she's watching his races again!

User9 she watched him win!!

User10 @ YourBestFriend is just like us for real. you can tell she's been praying for them to get back together

→ User11 she's feeding us crumbs and we're lapping them up

User12 not red bull down here fighting with us in the trenches

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

maxverstappen1 FUCK YEAH! WORLD CHAMP! 🥇🇳🇱 a huge thank you to @ redbullracing for their support throughout the whole season. you made all of this possible.

7,330 comments

redbullracing what a season! here's to many more, champ

christianhorner so unbelievably proud of you! enjoy the celebrations

danielricciardo congrats, mate. couldn't be happier for you. looking forward to celebrating later 🍾

landonorris woohoo! my shirt is still wet from your tears

→ maxverstappen1 don't lie. you cried more than i did

→ landonorris true

mclaren well done, max! an amazing achievement

YourUserName congrats, world champ x

liked by maxverstappen1

→ User13 mama en papa

→ User14 not the best phrase to use when the reason they broke up is due to a miscommunication about having children 

User15 omg omg omg, not a drill, guys. the queen has commented. and max liked!! 

→ User16 user we may not get them back together but i’ll take the tiny trickles of friendship they give us

→ User17 same sis same 

→ User18 may our delulus come trululu

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, carmenmmundt and others

YourUserName so i may have just won my first grammy? my ultimate gratitude to @ lovelessofficial for taking a chance on me when no one else would, the biggest love to those who supported me before i deserved it, and a final huge thank you to the inspiration behind the album 💕🦁

9,556 comments

User1 miss thing, looks like you got more than just your first grammy

→ YourUserName it's definitely a nice collection ;)

francisca.cgomes so proud of you, minha linda 🌼

→ YourUserName couldn't have done it without you pouring wine down my neck, kiks

lilymhe that's my girl!!

YourBestFriend wow, look at that dress. it would look better on my bedroom floor

liked by maxverstappen1

lewishamilton amazing achievement, y/n. well done

→ YourUserName thanks, lewis. you raced so well this season

danielricciardo did somebody say celebratory drinks later? 🥂

maxverstappen1 congrats, grammy winner x

liked by YourUserName

→ lovelessofficial thanks for joining us for the celebrations

→ User2 max was at her after party!!!!

→ User3 over a year after their breakup and we might be getting them back together??

User4 the trophies in their house must be overwhelming 

→ User5 love that we’re talking like they’re already back together

User6 'the inspiration behind the album' is so shady and sweet haha, poor max. i love that he'll be forever reminded of how badly he fumbled

→ User7 what makes you think she's on about max

→ User6 um, she wrote the album after their breakup and used the lion emoji, which she always used in posts about him. read the room, babes

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Jan

YourUserName just posted

liked by victoriaverstappen, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName happy new year's from me and my loved ones to you and yours (yes, he got drunk after this and ruined the rest of my photos)

13,441 comments

User8 omg omg omg omg!!!

User9 they're back together! they're back together! we win!

charles_leclerc beautiful couple. glad to see you both happy again

danielricciardo yuck. i haven't missed the pda

→ YourUserName you're just jealous you can't be our third

→ danielricciardo every day baby

maxverstappen1 i didn’t ruin them! they just become less pg

→ User10 woah, mr verstappen, we were not familiar with you

redbullracing our favourite trophy winning couple. can't wait to have y/n back in the paddock next month

maxverstappen1 looking forward to all that the future brings us, mijn mooie vrouw 🥰

→ YourUserName mijn lieve echtgenoot 💕

→ User11 um, the pet names!!!

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I know some people said on Danny’s that they wanted it to be longer but this are only planned as a duo series. Sorry, guys! 💕

Baby Fever Angst

Daniel's Version | Lando's Version | Lance’s Version |

Charles’s Version | Oscar’s Version

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @itsjustmyopinionf1 @evesfile @openthenyoor01 @princessria127 @hrrorflm @the-untamed-soul @nataliambc @oliviarodrigostan13 @sweate-r-weathe-r

As always, so sorry if I missed anyone. Thanks for all your support x

[rileyslibrary]

Feeling frustrated and in desperate need of support, you run to Ghost to let it all out.

A/N: Platonic fluff & the usual banter.

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“And then guess what he said to me!” you shout, turning to look at Ghost. You’d expect him to sit at the edge of his seat, ready to storm out and confront that jerk. But no. Instead, he is reclining in his office chair, swivelling left and right. He has dismantled a stapler during your rant and laid out each piece on the table, apart from the spring, which he twirls between his fingers.

“Are you even paying attention?” You ask, placing your hands on your hips.

“Sure,” he murmurs, even though his posture says otherwise. He closes one eye and peers through the spring with the other.

“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head. “What was I saying then?”

Ghost rolls his eyes, throws his head back, and sets the spring down among the other parts. He pulls his mask down, then adjusts it on his nose.

“On the day of the tactical training—which, according to you, shouldn’t be so close to the physical training because it makes your back hurt, and you don’t shut up about it—you were teamed up with Sergeant Dickinson,” he says with furrowed brows, “whom you refuse to address by his rank and call him what instead?”

“Shart-geant,” you reply, waving your hand. “But that’s irrelevant.”

“I disagree,” he says. “Wasn’t the surname ‘Dickinson’ enough to mess around with?”

“Nah,” you scoff, flicking your wrist. “Too easy.”

“Fair enough,” he nods and continues. “So, apparently, Sergeant Dickinson was a real asshole towards you, bossing you around and whatnot. At the end of your training, he supposedly said something that justifies you SWATing my office and disturbing my peace.”

He finishes his summary, leaving you staring at him with your hands still on your hips. “That’s correct,” you finally confirm.

He looks proud, almost too smug at your agreement. He picks up the spring again and continues playing with it. “Well, don’t leave me hanging,” he prompts, motioning for you to continue, “what did he say that was so terrible?”

“No!” You protest, pointing a finger at him. “No, you guess what that fucker told me.”

“Are we seriously doing this now?” He asks, amused.

“Yes,” you assert, nodding. “Yes, because, chances are, you won’t believe what he said.”

“Fair enough,” Ghost sighs, fully turning his attention to you. “Did he tell you to eat shit?”

“What?!” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “No!”

“How about calling you a horrible, uncooperative, egotistical teammate?”

“No, Ghost,” you shake your head. “As a matter of fact, I was the perfect teammate.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, pointing a finger. “How about—”

“Never mind,” you cut in, frustrated. “I’ll tell you what he said.”

“You sure?” He asks, his smugness returning. “Because I could keep guessing.”

“No, no, that’s enough.” You reply. “He told me to go fetch him the car.”

“Oh, wow,” he murmurs, leaning back on the chair. “Un-be-fucking-lievable.”

“Well, it’s not as dramatic as your guesses!” You exclaim, throwing your hands in the air. “Eat shit? Horrible teammate? Who says that?”

“Well, clearly not Dickinson,” he mutters.

You shoot him a side-eye, to which he responds by concealing the spring in the palm of his hand. There’s a hint of a smirk behind his balaclava.

“So you were bothered because you were asked to get the car.” He states.

“Fetch the car!” You shout, throwing your hands in the air. “Fetch! Like I’m some dog!”

“Are you a dog?” He asks deadpan.

“What a stupid question!” You shout again. “Of course I’m not!”

“Then why does it bother you that much?”

“Because it’s demeaning, Ghost!” you declare, pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “After everything in that training, all the crap he put me through, that’s how he dismisses me? Like I’m not worth his time?”

Ghost tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. The spring is now forgotten in his hand. “Is that how you feel when I shout at you to ‘shut the fuck up, stop acting like a baby, and bear the pain’ during physical training?”

You stop pacing and meet his gaze. “No,” you admit, shaking your head. “No, that’s differ—.”

“How?” Ghost interrupts sharply. “How is it different?”

“You outrank me,” you whisper, dropping your gaze.

“Dickinson outranks you too.” he points out.

“And he shouldn’t!” you shout, stepping forward and slamming your hands on Ghost’s desk. “I should’ve gotten that promotion! I was the one who deserved it, and you know it!”

“So it’s not about fetching cars,” Ghost says calmly. “It’s an ego thing.”

Your eyes widen. Your mouth opens slightly as you lean on the desk, towering over him. Ghost, on the other hand, remains unbothered.

“Are you gaslighting me, Lt.?” You whisper. “Someone treats me like a dog, then it’s suddenly my fault?”

Ghost avoids your question. He instead turns to look at you with eyes full of empathy. The first time in so long.

“We often ridicule what we secretly desire,” he says. “That’s why you mock his rank and not his name. It’s not Dickinson you have an issue with; it’s the fact that he has become a Sergeant instead of you. That’s what bothers you.”

“Th-that’s not true,” you whisper, turning away to hide your blush. “It’s about respect. About being treated like I matter. I don’t envy Dickinson or his stupid rank.”

There’s a soft chuckle behind you, and you turn to look at him. Ghost is shaking his head, his shoulders moving slightly up and down. He reaches into a drawer of his desk and retrieves an envelope.

“Why the laugh?” You ask, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“You’re not envious, that I agree,” he says, pulling out a letter and pushing it towards you. “You are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous!” You exclaim, eyeing the piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“It’s a letter from your bestie,” Ghost replies, leaning back in his chair. “Just read it.”

You pick up the letter and unfold it. It’s from Dickinson, addressing Ghost. It reads:

Lieutenant Ghost,

I wanted to take a moment to commend Corporal Y/N for her outstanding performance during our recent tactical training exercises. She consistently demonstrated exemplary teamwork skills and a commitment to the success of our missions. Despite our challenges, Corporal Y/N remained composed under pressure and willing to assist her teammates in any way possible.

Her dedication to her duties and her team is commendable, and I believe she has the potential for leadership roles in the future. I have no doubt that she will continue to excel in her career.

Sincerely,

Sergeant Dickinson

You fold the letter back and place it on the desk, still looking at it. You scratch your cheek and run a hand through your hair.

“I received it on the day of the training. Dickinson wanted to ensure it found its way to your file.” Ghost says, his eyebrows shooting up. “What do you think about it?”

“A week hasn’t passed since his promotion, and he’s already signing as Sergeant?” You mock.

“You really are a bundle of joy, aren’t you?” Ghost scoffs, throwing his hands up. “And they say about me.”

“Why didn’t he just tell me this himself?” you ask, your eyes darting back and forth while trying to process everything.

“There are lots of reasons,” Ghost contemplates. “Maybe he has trouble with expressing things.”

“Are you projecting much, Lt.?”

“Maybe I am,” he shrugs, playing with the spring more uncomfortably than bored this time. “But I also think he is a show-off who likes to suck up to his higher-ups—”

“—hence addressing the letter to you,” you murmur, finishing his sentence. “Gosh, I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t just feel like it,” he jokes. “Embrace it instead.”

You scoff and lean on his desk, messing up the stapler parts he so carefully placed on the table. He playfully swats your hand away and shows you the door.

“Now go, and stop being so whiny all the time,” he orders, holding up the spring and pressing it between his index finger and thumb. “It’s ok to stress, as long as you bounce back stronger, like this.”

———————————————————————

[vanteguccir]

Traitor | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Y/N and Matt are in a complicated relationship, where Matt is still stuck in the past with his ex. In an angsty pathway, Y/N suffers when she realizes that Matt will never love her as she wants.

Warning: Crying, panic attack, comparison, ANGST.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N adjusted her stunning dress in front of the mirror. The bright red silk fabric hugged her curves in a way she knew would make heads turn that night. Her hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders, meticulously styled by her curling iron, and her makeup highlighted her features impeccably.

There was a palpable excitement in the air, an expectation of Matt's reaction; she always expected to receive showers of praise from her boy, just as she did for him. The party they were about to go to - a fancy one that celebrated the launch of the new Space Camp line - would be the perfect opportunity to show everyone, and especially him, how hard she worked to be perfect.

The low sound of the bedroom door's handle turning sounded through the silence, Matt's figure appearing through the wooden frame, and all Y/N could feel as she watched him through the mirror's reflection was her racing heart. He looked stunning in his black suit, the crooked tie relaxing the seriousness of his attire.

She waited for the compliment, for the spark in his eyes that would confirm that all the effort had been worth it.

"You look beautiful, Y/N." Blue eyes traveled over her body for some seconds, but before she could absorb the joy of that moment, he finished. "Did you know that Amanda has a dress similar to yours?"

Y/N felt her stomach tighten painfully as her heart felt like it was being broken by a hammer three times its size. Amanda. Always Amanda. Matt's ex-girlfriend was a constant shadow between them, a specter that Y/N could never completely dispel.

She forced a smile, swallowing the anguish rising in her throat.

"Oh, really?" Was all she could say, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands shaking slightly at the side of her hips.

Later that day, the party continued with Y/N ​​by Matt's side, but her mind was far away. Every time someone praised her, she remembered Matt's comment. Even surrounded by people and with Matt by her side, she felt incredibly alone.

Her thoughts revolved around a single question: Why couldn't he see her for who she was instead of always comparing her to Amanda?

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A few weeks later, a new day brought a new blow. Matt was in his shared room with Y/N, sitting in his gaming chair with his upper body resting on the wooden surface, his hands on his Macbook, busy answering emails sent to the triplets' mail.

Y/N entered quietly, carrying two glasses full of fresh watermelon juice, knowing that Matt would definitely be thirsty and hungry after hours of sitting there. But as she got closer, she saw his computer screen. The messaging app was open, and the open window wasn't just any texts — it was old conversations between Matt and Amanda.

He read them with a melancholic smile, his eyes shining with a longing that Y/N knew all too well.

"Matt..." Her voice came out in an involuntary whisper, the broken tone sounding louder than it was expected.

The boy startled, closing the laptop quickly.

"Babe, hey, you scared me!" The boy turned around suddenly, clearing his throat and laughing awkwardly, trying to look casual. "I was just... clearing out some old stuff."

Y/N just nodded, the pain growing inside her chest.

"It's fine. Here, I made this for you." She raised her hand that held the fullest glass, smiling brokenly and keeping her eyes open, taking note on how Matt didn't notice the tears shining in her orbs or pretended not to.

She knew he was lying. She knew he was stuck in the past, that Amanda still dominated his thoughts and his heart. But once again, she chose to ignore it, to stifle her own suffering out of love for him.

Because losing Matt was a fear that outweighed any pain she might feel.

Right?

Right! Until things reached an unbearable point.

Y/N had an appointment at the beauty salon, something she did to feel a little more in control, a little more beautiful in a reality where she always felt insufficient. Matt said he couldn't accompany her, claiming he had videos to film with his brothers. She understood, or at least she tried.

It was Saturday, they didn't film on Saturday.

Sitting in the salon chair, while her nails were being done and her hair was treated, Y/N took out her phone to pass the time, holding the device awkwardly for fear of smudging her sparkling nail polish.

Scrolling through Instagram while her ears caught some conversations around the salon, her heart almost flew out of its place and up her mouth when she saw a photo that one of the celebrity gossip pages had just posted.

Matt was in a coffee shop with Amanda.

His smile was radiant, a kind of joy Y/N hadn't seen on his face in a long time. He looked so… complete, so genuinely happy.

Y/N felt the world come crashing down around her. Tears burned her eyes, but she held them back, looking around at all the other radiant women before turning her attention back to the news, clutching her cell between her left fingers, a low "sorry" scaping her lips when her right hand trembled against the manicurist ones.

She didn't give a shit that they were talking in a cafe, she didn't mind if they wanted to be friends again - even though she had destroyed Matt, and Y/N was the one to put him together again -, it was something else that bothered her.

Matt had lied to her. He said he was going to film. What the fuck was he doing out with Amanda?

But the truth was right there, raw and painful: Matt would never be fully hers. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she sacrificed, he would always be stuck in the past in the love he had for Amanda. He would always go back to her.

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing a smile as the manicurist applied red nail polish to her nails on her left hand. The color perfectly matched the feelings she felt at that moment; dark.

Every move by the salon professionals seemed like a desperate attempt to beautify her for someone who would never see her true beauty. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop her mind from going back to that image of Matt smiling with Amanda. It was a smile she could never get out of him.

"You look amazing, Y/N!" Cintia, the girl's hairdresser for years now, praised excitedly, straightening the last strands of hair just finished and turning the chair so that Y/N could see herself in the mirror. "Matt will love it."

Y/N looked at her reflection, but all she saw was an improved version of herself that, despite all her effort, would never be enough for Matt. She would always be just a shadow, a pale substitute.

"Thank you..." The girl tried to say, but her voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

The room around her seemed like a golden prison, full of mirrors that only reflected her internal pain. Every compliment, every word of encouragement, sounded hollow, meaningless, because the person whose opinion mattered most was, at that very moment, laughing and smiling with another woman; the woman he truly loved.

When Y/N finally left the salon, she felt exhausted, as if she had run an emotional marathon. She walked slowly to her home, opting not to call an Uber.

Her hands fished her phone out of her half-open purse, and, with trembling fingers decorated in red, she sent a text to Diana, her best friend.

"Diana, are you home? Can I sleep there tonight?"

As she waited for the answer, her mind wandered through a whirlwind of thoughts. The pain was constant but mixed with a new resolve.

She needed to get out of there. She needed space to breathe, to think.

"Of course, babes!"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Getting home was an automatic process. The house she shared with the triplets seemed colder and more hostile than ever.

Y/N walked past the living room where Chris and Nick were sprawled awkwardly on the gray couch playing video games, their excited laughter, and screams a cruel contrast to the pain she felt.

"Y/N!" Nick smiled brightly when he saw his best friend out of the corner of his eye. "Want to play a round with us?"

"No thanks, Nick. I'm tired." She murmured, smiling wide and fake - even though he wasn't looking at her directly -, trying to appear normal.

She walked slowly down the path between the living room and kitchen, each step a reminder of what she was about to do.

Her hands worked automatically on the door, entering her shared room with Matt, closing it behind her, the sound of the lock clicking echoing like a period in her mind. She looked around, taking in the details that made the space a home - the photos on the wall, the personal items, the memories. But now, it all felt empty.

She grabbed a suitcase stored at the back of their shared closet and began filling it with her necessities. The simple act of opening the suitcase caused a wave of despair to hit her.

Every piece of clothing and every object that her hands roughly touched and threw blindly into the suitcase was a small stab in her heart. The tears finally started to stream down her face, and she didn't try to stop them. Reality was imposing itself in a cruel way.

Her movements became slower and slower, while her thoughts became more chaotic.

"I'll never be enough for him."

"I'll never be her."

"He'll never love me the way I love him."

"I'm destroying myself for someone who cares little about me."

"What did I do wrong?"

These thoughts repeated like a cruel mantra in her mind. She felt her breathing quicken. Her lungs seemed unable to take in enough air. The room, which had always been a refuge, now felt like an oppressive cell. Panic began to set in. Her chest felt tight, her hands shook, and the air seemed to escape.

The tears flowed like hot, relentless waterfalls. The suitcase was open in front of her, half full, but it seemed like an insurmountable abyss. Y/N tried to take a deep breath, but each attempt only resulted in more despair.

The sobs came strong and uncontrollable. The girl stopped in front of the bed, standing, after throwing the last piece taken by her hands, bending her upper body over the suitcase, gripping the edge of the thick fabric with such strength that it made her fingers take on a whitish color, fully throwing her weight on her arms as if they were a lifeboat in the middle of a storm.

"Why am I not good enough?"

"What is wrong with me?"

"Why can’t he love me?"

She felt completely alone, drowning in her own pain. The panic attack took over, stealing any trace of control she still had.

The walls of the room seemed to close in on Y/N, the contours of the furniture becoming indistinct and threatening as her breathing became increasingly rapid and shallow. Her heart hammered in her chest with an almost painful force, each beat ringing in her ears like deafening thunder. The air felt thick, sticky, and impossible to inhale properly.

"Am I really that hard to be loved?"

"I wish I was her."

"He was never mine, right?"

Her hands shook uncontrollably, her fingers tingling over her suitcase as a feeling of numbness spread through her arms. Sweat dripped down her forehead, leaving her feeling sticky and uncomfortable, while the cold began to spread throughout her body, generating incessant chills.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the room distorting into restless shadows that danced and pulsed, transforming the room into a place strangely familiar and frighteningly alien at the same time. Each sound seemed amplified and distant, the ones of laughter and the clicks of long and simple kisses played in memories in her head like a record player at its highest volume, creating a surreal echo that only intensified the feeling of isolation and despair.

Exhausted, Y/N let herself sink to the floor, her sobs echoing in the empty room, an expression of the pain and loneliness that she felt suffocating herself relentlessly. Her legs folded in front of her body, the front of her thighs sticking firmly against her stomach as her arms served as a shield for her head, her hands involuntarily going up to her own hair, gripping the strands tightly, trying to ground herself.

Meanwhile, Nick ran towards her and Matt's room with quick, excited steps. He had just finished the last round of his video game with Chris and was looking forward to seeing the outcome of Y/N's salon day, hoping it would make her happier after noticing the inconsistency in her voice when she got home.

His closed fist lightly knocked on the door before opening it, the smile on his face instantly disappearing as his eyes met the scene before him.

Y/N was on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, her hands now grabbing her arms in a desperate hug. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes wide and fixed on a distant, indistinct point. Her breathing was ragged, labored, as if she were trying to pull air through a narrow, clogged straw. The sound of her panting was interspersed with heavy sobs, creating a symphony of anguish that made Nick's heart tighten in his chest.

"Y/N!" Nick called, his voice thick with panic. But to Y/N, his words were like distant whispers, drowned out by the deafening noise of her own frantically beating heart.

Her mind was in a whirlwind of chaotic, disorganized thoughts, each competing for attention and increasing the feeling of panic. She felt trapped in an endless cycle of terror, unable to escape the downward spiral that consumed her.

The feeling of suffocation was overwhelming, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on her chest, making every desperate attempt to breathe difficult. The seconds seemed to stretch into a torturous eternity, each second carrying a new wave of fear and despair.

Nick ran up to her, the panic on his face intensifying by the second. He knelt beside Y/N, trying to find a way to reach her, to bring her back from that abyss of despair. His hands shook as he gently pulled her close, enveloping her in a tight, protective hug.

"I’m here, Y/N, I’m here." He repeated, his voice choked with emotion, praying to whatever was watching them to make her listen to him. But she didn't seem to be able to do it, lost in her own spiral of panic.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment, fighting to stay calm. He knew he needed to be strong for her, and he needed to find a way to calm her.

"Y/N, look at me, please." He pleaded, voice softer, trying to break the invisible barrier that kept her trapped in her own fear. The brunette held her face with his hands, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe slowly."

He began to breathe deeply, exaggerating his movements so she could follow. He breathed in slowly and deeply through his nose, holding it for a moment before slowly exhaling through his mouth. He felt Y/N tremble in his arms, but he kept pace, trying to convey calmness through each breath.

"That's it, keep going, you can do it." Nick encouraged, feeling a small change in her breathing. Her panting began to synchronize with his, although it was still irregular. He continued to whisper words of comfort, repeating that he was there, that she wasn't alone.

Slowly, very slowly, he felt the stiffness in her body begin to ease. Y/N's breathing became a little steadier, although she was still shaking. Nick kept the hug tight, feeling her heart beat against his own chest. He knew she was still scared, still trapped in her mind, but she was starting to come back.

"You're safe, Y/N. I'm here." Nick said once again, his voice firm and reassuring. He didn't let go of her face, maintaining eye contact, grounding her to reality. "Let's get through this together, okay?"

Finally, after several minutes that felt like hours, Y/N began to breathe in a more controlled manner. Her sobs subsided, and her eyes, once wide with terror, began to focus on Nick's. Her blurred vision cleared a little, the walls of the room seeming less threatening.

Nick sighed in relief, still holding her tightly, feeling the tension gradually ease in her muscles.

His own heart was still beating fast, but now, for a different reason. He looked around, trying to understand the situation better, when his blue orbs stopped on the open suitcase above the bed. The sight of the packed suitcase made his heart sink. Confusion and fear settled in his chest. What was happening? Why was she packing her things? The thought of Y/N leaving caused him his own panic, an intense worry that he tried to suppress, deciding that the questions could wait.

With a conscious effort, he looked away from the suitcase and focused on the immediate task of taking care of Y/N. He stood up slowly, maintaining eye contact to ensure she didn't feel abandoned for even a moment. The boy grabbed the pink bottle of water from the bedside table on her side of the bed and quickly returned, sitting next to her on the cold floor again. The hard ground beneath him was a sharp contrast to the softness of concern he felt for Y/N.

"Here, drink some water." He asked softly, handing Y/N the bottle.

The fragile girl took the bottle with hands that were still shaking but managed to open the cap and take a few small sips, each one firmer than the last. Nick watched her every move, his mind still spinning around the suitcase. The silence in the room was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unasked questions. He waited patiently, without pressing, standing by her side like a pillar of support.

After long seconds of silence, Y/N took a deep breath, her gaze shifting from the bottle to the suitcase on the bed. She knew she needed to explain. Nick deserved to know what was going on, especially after helping her get through that panic attack. She straightened up a little, trying to find the strength to speak.

"Nick..." She began, her voice still trembling. "I... I'm packing because I need to get out of here for a while. I can't stay here any longer, the way things are between me and..." Her voice trailed off into the air before she could mention the name of the boy she loved most in the world.

Nick felt a lump form in his throat, but he remained calm, waiting for her to continue. Y/N took another sip of water before continuing, her words coming out in a halting, painful stream.

"I saw Matt with Amanda today, you know? They were together, and he looked so happy… happier than I've ever seen him with me." Her voice cracked again, but she took a deep breath and continued. "It made me realize that no matter how much I love him, he will never love me the same way. And I can't keep destroying myself like this. So, I'm going to spend the night at Diana's house. I need some time to think, to calm down. Get away from here. Get away from him. And maybe make him miss me... Or finally notice that I'm not what he wants." The last part came out in a broken whisper, her gaze lowering to her crossed legs.

Nick felt a wave of relief upon hearing that she wasn't leaving his life forever, but the worry and sadness over her situation still weighed heavily on him. He wanted to say something, anything to ease her pain, but the words seemed inadequate. Instead, he just nodded, offering silent support.

"And please, Nick, don't tell Matt anything yet." Y/N asked, her eyes pleading. "I need a little time to understand what I'm going to do. He really hurt me, but I can't act on impulse."

Nick held her hand firmly, offering her an expression of understanding and support.

"Of course, Y/N. I won't tell him. I promise." He murmured sincerely. "You can have all the time you need. And I'm here for you, no matter what. I love my little brother, but I won't defend him when he's in the wrong end. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, Y/N. Someone who loves you completely, without shadows of the past."

They sat there for a few more minutes, sharing that moment of stillness and understanding. The cold of the ground seemed less intense with each other's comforting presence.

Eventually, Y/N stood up, with Nick helping her place her suitcase on the floor. She took one last look at the room she had shared with Matt, pain visible in her eyes but also a growing determination. She knew she needed to step away to heal, to find her own strength again.

"Let's go." Nick's voice woke her from her reverie, his hands picking up her suitcase and walking it to the door. "I'll uber you to Diana's house."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt returned home with a beaming smile on his face, his heart still racing with the joy of the friendly encounter he had had. He had spent the afternoon with Amanda, talking and laughing like old times, and the feeling of familiarity and happiness was undeniable.

The boy climbed the stairs of the house with quick steps, eager to see Y/N and share his good mood with her. He wanted to hold her close on their bed, bury his nose in the curve of her neck, and smell her soft and natural perfume as he told her about his day.

But when he opened the bedroom door, a strange feeling of tension in the air made him stop. The environment felt different, as if something had changed, but he couldn't identify what it was. He entered the space, leaving the door open behind him, turning his body and letting his eyes roam the four walls, trying to find what was wrong. Nothing seemed out of place at first glance: the bed was made, his clothes were in the same place, the books were on the shelf, and the computer was on the computer desk. But there was an absence he still couldn't understand.

It was when he opened the closet that reality began to form in his mind. Y/N's side was almost empty. Where her dresses, skirts, and t-shirts once hung, now there were just a few lonely hangers. The empty space where her suitcase sat now felt like a black hole, sucking in all the light and joy he had felt moments before.

Matt felt his heart stop for a second, a feeling of panic starting to take over his chest.

"Y/N? Hey, baby? Are you cleaning out the closet by any chance?" Matt's broken voice sounded through the room in an echo, seeming to escape out the door and travel the entire floor of the house, his blue eyes still fixed on the empty hangers as his mind created the expectation of hearing the sweet, melodious voice back.

But nothing came.

Nick appeared silently in the doorway, watching his younger brother with a serious expression. Matt was so absorbed in his desperate search for answers that he didn't notice Nick's presence until he heard his voice.

"She left."

Matt turned abruptly, his wide, confused eyes meeting Nick's. The older triplet's expression was one of deep sadness, mixed with calm determination. Matt felt a wave of despair rise up inside him, like an overwhelming tide ready to swallow him.

"What do you mean 'she left'?" Matt asked, his voice trembling accompanied by an expression of terror. "Where- Where did she go?"

Nick sighed, taking a step forward, eyes shining with suppressed anger.

"That doesn't matter now. What matters is that you need to decide what you really want, Matt. She saw you with Amanda today, you know?"

Matt felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. He looked around the room again, this time with a clear understanding of what was missing. Y/N, the constant, loving presence in his life, was gone.

"I don't understand..." Matt muttered almost to himself. "I thought we were fine."

"Only you saw this. Seeing you with Amanda was the last straw for her. She loves you, she really does, but she can't keep living like this, Matt, not when she knows that you still have feelings for your ex." Nick scoffed, a disgusted tone echoing with his words, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in suppressed anger. "And you can't continue like this, dividing your attention between Y/N and Amanda. This is destroying Y/N, and you don't even realize it."

"But I... I was just trying to be friends with Amanda again. I don't have feelings for her anymore." Matt spluttered, confusion and guilt beginning to mix in his chest.

"Then why do you keep seeing her?" Nick countered, with no softness in his words. "Y/N loves you, Matt. She loves you so much that she is destroying herself because you don't treat her like you should. She needs you, and you're here, acting like nothing's wrong. And if you continue like this, you will permanently lose the only girl who has truly stuck by your side through thick and thin."

Matt felt a lump tighten in his throat. He tried to speak, but words failed him. The image of Y/N, the woman he loved, suffering in silence because of her insensitivity, was unbearable.

He felt foolish and insensitive. How had he not realized how much Y/N ​​was suffering? All he wanted was to be able to hug her now, tell her that he loved her, and that she was the only person that mattered. But at that moment, he realized how late those words could be.

"I didn't cheat on her, Nick. I really was with Amanda, but I didn't… I didn't do anything wrong." Matt's voice sounded choked, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as anxiety rose through his body like rafters.

"You think you didn't, Matt. But sometimes, it's not about what you do but about how you make the other person feel. And honestly? Giving priority to your ex, the girl who broke you and made you suffer for days on end, over Y/N, who you say you love oh so much, is low blow. Right now, Y/N needs space to breathe to understand her own feelings. And you need to truly analyze what you did and recant with her when she is ready."

Matt walked with shaky steps towards the double bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his hands. The weight of guilt and regret was crushing. All he could think about was how he wanted to turn back in time, do things differently, show Y/N that she was the center of his world. Never have lunch with Amanda.

"I need to talk to her." Matt tightened his fingers around the brown strands of her hair, sniffling. "I need to tell her that I'm sorry, that I love her. I really do, Nick."

"I know. But give her a little time, Matt. Forcing a conversation now might make things worse. Let her process everything, and then you can try talking to her." Nick advised, watching him closely before he turned, walking towards the door. "And next time, treat her like the wonderful woman she is, not like a replacement."

Matt nodded slowly, begrudgingly, knowing his brother was right, the despair turning into a silent, constant pain. The room around him, which had once been a haven of love and shared memories, now seemed like an empty, desolate space. The mattress beneath his body, where both of their bodies lay together just the day before, now felt like an icy surface, sending horrible shivers through his body.

His mind betrayed him by making him remember the moments when he had treated Y/N with indifference and neglect, moments that he now saw with painful clarity. Each memory was like a stab to the heart, revealing the depth of his callousness. Y/N's smiles that he had taken for granted, the nights she waited up for him while he lost himself in thoughts of the past, the comparisons...

He could now see the small changes in her expression, the way her eyes sparkled less, how her smile became rarer with each passing day. She was withdrawing, and he was blindly contributing to that withdrawal.

Sitting there, now alone in the room, Matt felt the weight of his own guilt and regret. He realized that he had never made Y/N feel like the most important woman in her life. Instead, he had relegated her to the background, allowing the shadows of his former relationship to contaminate the present. Y/N's love and dedication towards him contrasted painfully with his own indifference.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

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[hana-no-seiiki]

STILL INTO YOU

yandere batfam x cat villain! reader (+extra!!)

synopsis: moments wherein the batfam n co. realize that after all this time they’re still into you

status: unedited.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:] Super sorry for the lack of fics everyone!! Lately I found out that my DID symptoms have gotten worse and that I’ve experienced a full blackout (and possibly more, I just have no memory of it). So I’ve just been trying to recuperate my mental health for a while with art related stuff. Which, on the positive side of things, means that I’ll be releasing a Webtoon (pilot) around this July!! Hope to see you guys there during the release!!

Can’t count the years on one hand

That we’ve been together

I need the other one to hold you.

Make you feel, make you feel better.

You never realized how much Bruce knew you until you two sat down and had a meal together. Why? You might ask. Well, you were supposed to have a dinner date with Tim today at the manor, but he was unfortunately caught up on a case. You were about to cancel it, maybe cause some chaos in town and then chill with Jason as revenge for your bestie bailing — but Tim insisted you hung out with his father instead.

The pair knew it was the only way for you to (A) Behave and (B) not sleep with Jason for the nth time that week.

Gazing at all your favorite foods displayed upon the excessively extravagant and expensive table you realized that aside from the second youngest, Bruce knew you the most out of everyone in the Batfamily by virtue of his contingencies and overall time as the Batman while you were training to be Catwoman’s successor.

It was so odd, seeing him so calm and not so hostile when you were around. Eerie.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I always saw you as a threat. Treated you like one. But you were just a kid stuck in a situation you didn’t have a hand on. I’m truly sorry. For treating you that way.”

“. . . Isn’t it your job? No hard feelings really. I’d be creeped out if you treated me so nicely — not the food though this is very much welcomed.” You ranted as you stuck a fork into your steak, pointing it at Bruce’s face. Yet, as much as how you were failing to achieve proper etiquette he didn’t seem annoyed more so . . . surprised?

“I hope to see you have dinner here again next week.” His hands stretched to awkwardly pat your head.

“Depends, will I have more of Alfred’s steak again?”

It's not a walk in the park

To love each other.

But when our fingers interlock,

Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it.

Koriand’r wasn’t an idiot. She knew about Dick’s lingering feelings for you.

Perhaps she may be. Considering the fact that she still tried to be in a relationship with him even then.

“Shit. Kitty? Kitty! Wake up you hear me?!”

“. . . I’m. . .” You coughed, groaning at the pain it triggered all throughout your body “ . . . here . .”

You raised your hand, too weak to reach his face you settled with holding his own. Dick squeezed your intertwined hands with a pained expression , and an intimacy unfamiliar to the alien.

But that wasn’t what made Koriand’r finally understand how hopeless their relationship was.

It was the fear in his face. His pretty features morphed into one of horror.

Ah, even after all this time. Dick couldn’t live without you.

Cause after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Jason spent many, many grueling years under the influence of the LoA. And not once did his body forget the feeling of you.

The butterflies, the heart wrenching pain of being apart from you, and the fleeting, venomous hatred you two shared.

After all, it was your name that escaped his lips the moment he awoke from the dead. Your face the first on his mind. Your voice that he longed to hear again.

He had plenty of time to prepare for this moment. Months? Maybe even years.

“Hey, cool helmet. You a Deadpool fan or . . ?”

But even then, your appearance still made him more nervous than confronting his family once more. More nervous than fighting the villain that ended his life.

“Yikes, awful cut you got there. Need me to patch you up buddy?”

You had grown. He had too, even if it was through some magic, deus ex machina water. Seeing the change in your features, how you shed your youthful look of naïvete and grew into a beautiful/handsome/pretty specimen almost made him break all his plans just to be with you again.

“I know that you’re shy and all but I need words.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here til the vigilantes show up.”

For his revenge’s sake he hopes that you’ll stay for longer.

Recount the night that I first

Met your mother

And on the drive back to my house

I told you that, I told you that I loved ya.

You felt the weight of the world

Fall off your shoulder

And to your favorite song

We sang along to the start of forever

It was one of those nights when you intruded on the Batfam’s nightly patrols. This time your victim was Damian. And strangely, no one else. He explained that the rest were taking a break.

Leaving out the fact that he poisoned them with some self engineered laxatives.

It was relatively calm until a heist suddenly started in one of the banks you wanted to pick off. Damn.

“Hey, I didn’t know you listened to [Favorite Artist(s)]” You eyes widened at the sound of the music playing the background as Joker’s men began to surround you and Robin.

“Just a casual listener. How did you meet my mother anyhow?” Damian sheathed his katana. Opting to take down his foes by hand to hand combat as he peeled his eyes and ears to listen to you.

Besides he could see that your eyes weren’t on him anyways, so there was no point in showing off.

. . . Not that he was doing that.

“Huh? Well, I know everyone really.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He sighed, bashing a poor guy’s face with his knees, his hands adding force with a pull — yikes. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“She hated me at first. Courtesy of Cat Woman and the Bat being together.” You turned to him, and he ducks.

“Then I lost someone really, really important to me. More than anything in this world. More than this world itself.” Your whip meets a goon behind him. Both of you hear a splat sound as the man falls to the floor. “And while everyone was calling me insane, when everything was breaking down around me. She was the only one who didn’t judge me for . . . the things that I did.”

“She supported me and was there for me no matter what.” You gaze at the blood on your weapon and cringe. “And then I realized your dad was an absolute bastard for leaving her behind. So I took up the mask again and made it my mission to make his life miserable."

"Even after the dinner?"

"Especially. Wanna bet on how long til he snaps?"

"Deal."

And after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And one of those is you and I

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And even after all this time

Tim honestly didn’t think he had it as bad as his brothers. Sure, he watched your every move and had extensive digital libraries on everything about you, but he did that for everyone. He was more rational; a man that clung unto his senses.

No it wasn’t his actions that made him realize how dangerously important you were to him, it was the way he felt doing so.

After an excessively arduous mission, the first thing he does as he gets back home is to open up his devices and get back to work. Surprise surprise, the stress wouldn’t go away. Not even when he stopped to play some games or catch up on Dungeon Meshi’s last episodes. And that always, always made him relax.

Anxious, his hands subconsciously guide him to that one folder.

Click Click

Dozens if not hundreds of holographic photos, videos and even fan art of you surrounded him.

Tim stares at a video he took when he first found out your identity.

Curling up into a ball with a blanket surrounding him, he slowly drifts off to sleep. Your voice lulling him into his overdue journey to dreamland.

Yeah, he was more rational than the rest. Yet, some things just made sense. Like you being the only thing in this world that manages to make his heart race and anxieties run away.

I'm into You

Baby not a day goes by that

I'm not into you

Jon was a bit dense. But even then he could see the signs of his best friend slowly losing himself to love and infatuation.

He would have been happy,

if it weren’t for the fact that he had a crush on you first.

Being the sweetheart he is, he backed off, respectful of Damian’s feelings (even if the latter wasn’t of his).

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

“Woah, you guys are done already?” Jon landed. As soon as he heard that he’d be able to fight alongside you after what felt like years (it was a couple of weeks), he flew all the way from Metropolis in record time.

If he knew what awaited him he probably wouldn’t have left at all.

“Yeah.” You gave him a thumbs up. Your head laid atop Damian’s lap as the domino masked vigilante ran his hands through your hair. His gloves off to his side.

“C-Cool.”

Jon cried himself to sleep that night.

Even after knowing of Damian’s feelings all this time, he could never stop his own.

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

I'm still into you

I'm still into you

[ NEXT PART : NOBODY GETS ME ]

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: I thought I wasn't going to have strong opinions about the Laios-Shuro fight, but...

Laios was right about this! Yes, they had 2 physical fights first, but it's important to note that Laios was right about this!

.

^ -man who would literally kill to stay in this room and observe this private conversation.

.

Sir, your unfaltering little wide-eyed, amiable smile while seriously considering topics that are obviously un-smile-worth has charmed me utterly. I wish to study you like an climate-entomologist yearns for the butterfly that causes storms.

.

She seems fine.

.

If I start screencapping Laios's and Marcille's faces in this fight, I will never stop because literally every panel is devasting.

.

Kuro has done distinctly the most damage so far this fight, just stabbing and gnawing, and I think we should recognize and appreciate that fact.

.

I really miss the animation we got of Rin's lightning blast slicing narrowly past Laios.

I love how fast, if reluctantly, Laios accepts that if - not, that Falin is a true "monster", inhuman and hurting people relentlessly and unapologetically, and thus she needs to be killed before she kills them, like any other monster. I also love that Marcille doesn't accept this. Characters!

.

+1 to qualification to kingship! Kabru is one again surprised (you can tell by how he's not smiling) (though this might also be due to the significant injuries he just took).

I do have several emotions about how Falin immediately yanks away and kills Kabru, without touching Laios. That's her brother!!

.

I really like this little cluster because it says to me that Shuro still has very good "do what Marcille says when she abruptly shouts magic-related directions in combat" instincts. He's a mirror of the "You're already on the Christmas card, buddy" meme - more like, "You're still on the Christmas card." Just like Namari: no one really stops being fond of, and battle companions with, these weirdos.

.

I think the most painful part of this probably is that Marcille isn't certain. Maybe this IS her fault. At minimum, she knows she might have mixed the dragon's soul into Falin's, which enabled this even if it didn't create it. But she can't 100% rule out the possibility that it's more her fault than that - which is, of course, the absolute worst thing to say to all of these people looking at her violently askance for using dark magic.

.

yeahhhhhh "Lunatic Magician" REALLY lacks the oomph of "Mad Mage"

ANGRY LAIOS! It's such a rare expression on him, it's exciting to see.

.

Yesss look at my man Chilchuck use available tools in his environment and save this little goober who thinks it's cool to resent adults.

I really like how they show the social consequences of dark magic. Much beyond Shuro's anger: the other mages are now shutting Marcille down, especially where resurrection magic is concerned. She's made herself untrusted by her peers, whether or not the magic she used on Falin is truly "evil."

.

I really enjoy the, like, narratively obligatory, not actually real (well, maybe to Rin) "will they-won't they" between Kabru and Rin. In the story that this isn't, where Kabru is the protagonist with his quirky gang of found family who are helping him save the island and prevent another bloodbath like in his angsty backstory, she IS the One (Human) Female on the Team who is obviously his love interest - often the first to challenge him, battle mage rather than healer ie a Strong Female Character who nonetheless doesn't use unfeminine brute force, forced by happenstance to kiss...

Alas! Kabru is not the protagonist of this story, so Rin shall remain disappointed.

Also this montage of people healing and reuniting while in the background Laios and Shuro whale on each other remains SO funny. Flawless comedic timing.

.

Alright, hot take time: I feel like all the debate I've seen about the Shuro/Laios fight depict it as revealing the friendship basically shattered, and never real in the first place. Whereas I'm mostly warmed by how real it clearly was despite everything that just happened?

Shuro is operating on no food and less sleep, desperate to save the woman he idolizes without truly understanding her loves, who is now apparently a monster who nearly slaughtered his most loyal followers. In the past like 2 weeks, Laios has: watched his sister die to save his life (his little sister, whom he is supposed to protect), walked headfirst into a nigh-unwinnable fight to get her back, held her skull in his hands, got her back and held her in his arms, lost her again about 6 hours later in an even more unwinnable fight, which was proven even more unwinnable when the Mage twisted the dungeon itself against them, saw her again but as a murderous monster now (which might be due to the magic he agreed to use to resurrect her), swiftly and sternly resigned himself to fighting and potentially killing her (his little sister! whom he is supposed to protect!), had her recognize him (and no one else!) despite her monstrosity, watched her be killed (again!) in part thanks to him distracting her, except it didn't work and then she fled.

This is an immature, ignoring-immediate-needs (ie, food, healing) knock-down drag-out fight between two men at the absolute ends of their ropes, who, sure, have built-up resentments against each other and the world, and an inciting incident pushing them over the edge - but mostly neither of them can punch in the face the fact that they can't save Falin. So they punch each other instead.

I won't even address the prologue to the fight, where Laios tells him about the black magic and Shuro promptly tries to strangle him then levels a sword at him. Kabru already nailed that: Shuro was worried about Falin - that the magic had hurt her, that the social consequences would be worse. Laios knew this enough that he didn't fight back, then. But now?

The first shove is Shuro demanding, Don't you fucking DARE give me false hope.

I cannot emphasize enough how hard I would also slap someone for suggesting that I wasn't taking the death and monsterization of my younger sibling seriously.

Shuro knows it, too. He doesn't respond to this, he just punches, and Laios punches back. Shuro doesn't speak again until Laios knocks him all the way down, and

Shuro is at his absolute depth. The lowest point he (feels that he) can go. He cannot save Falin. He's shamed himself as a leader and heir by getting his people killed (they got better, but that's beside the point.) He's been beaten in hand-to-hand combat by this idiot northern peasant. He lets down his guard and pride enough to mutter this self-deprecation aloud...and the idiot northern peasant hears, compounding every shame - and it's infuriating especially because he doesn't even hear properly, just like he never hears properly - he's so frustrating in his friendly but oblivious constant irritation and THIS, Shuro can still be furious about, to avoid his grief/hopelessness/self-loathing/shame. This, he can still fight about!

So he does.

They're both wrong in this fight. They're both right. Laios was consistently inconsiderate; knowing this about himself - because it's not like by his early 20s he didn't know that he didn't Get people the way most people Get people - he should've made more of an effort, and picked up any of the hints Shuro was laying down. Shuro was too caught up in his own pride and out-of-place manners: when it was clear that Laios wasn't going to pick up on even the strongest "hint", he should've said something plainly instead of just letting his resentment build until he was effectively lying to Laios about, if not their entire friendship, certainly the shape of it.

But they were friends. They are friends. This isn't the posture or conversation of two guys who don't like each other.

It's two guys who are still, in fact, fucking exhausted, physically and emotionally - but they just got rid of a lot of extra, furious, helpless energy, so they're finally satisfied to just sit. Their posture is relaxed and casual; their conversation straightforward and companionable, if serious.

This is two guys who've sat like this many time at a campfire, in just these poses. Who've kept watch together late at night and stayed awake by talking.

Laios cares about Falin more than anyone in the world, and even after the words and blows they just exchanged, he's still willing to put Shuro's suit to her. Shuro didn't tell Falin he was interested in her until he proposed to her, but he's telling it all to Laios. Admittedly, this is because Laios is, Shuro assumes, the closest he'll ever get to being able to tell it all to Falin...but still. And he admits vulnerability, which he clearly wouldn't have done before, even to his most loyal and loved companions as they urged him to eat and sleep.

Yeah, they're buddies. If I had to describe it, I'd say: their relationship was built on unsteady, false foundations, but they built something sturdy on it anyway, and the sturdy thing survives even when the foundations shake and re-settle.

Lol at Shuro. "I'm going to report you to the local authorities for your crimes because it's the right thing to do. But if you survive, I'll totally use my power and influence to help you flee the country, and live peacefully on my estate beyond where an extradition treaty can reach you."

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Each Yellowjackets character’s greatest strength (and why it is also their greatest weakness)

Natalie: Empathy/Selflessness

Despite her abusive home life and edgy, intimidating exterior, Nat is one of the kindest and softest characters on the show. She has a deeper understanding of other’s trauma and pain than most due to her own experiences. Nat was the only one to show empathy towards Travis when his father died, even when he was an absolute asshole to her (and pointed a loaded gun at her!). She helped Travis cut the ring off of his dad’s finger because she knew Javi needed it. She faces her trauma and becomes a hunter to provide food for the group. When Jackie tells Travis about Bobby Farleigh and Travis breaks up with Nat as a result, Nat still helps Jackie on the night of Doomcoming. She also doesn’t hold a grudge against Travis for sleeping with Jackie and even wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for months and trudges through snow for miles to help him look for Javi. She helps Lisa steal back her goldfish, defends her against her mother, and even dies for her (literally!).

This is also why her selflessness is her greatest weakness, she gives too much of herself and does not believe she herself is worth the care she gives to others, resulting in self-destructive tendencies. Her one act of selfishness (letting Javi die in her place) completely destroys her. Her empathy results in intense guilt and shame when she has to hurt others in the Wilderness, resulting in her spiraling into a life of drugs in order to cope and keeping people at arm’s length to avoid harming them.

Taissa: Ambition/Drive

Taissa is driven and successful in pretty much anything she sets her mind to. Before the crash, she’s a straight A student and an exceptional athlete. In the Wilderness, she takes the lead on leaving the plane wreck, finding the lake, and forges her own expedition to find civilization. Post-rescue, Taissa is arguably the most successful survivor. She’s a lawyer and burgeoning politician with a prestigious academic background and a picturesque family. Tai’s determination and drive for success ensures not only her survival after the plane crash but also the survival of her teammates.

However, Tai’s ambition is also one of her greatest faults. Her tunnel vision towards success can result in herself and those around her getting hurt. She accidentally breaks Allie’s leg trying to get her to improve her soccer abilities. She sets out on her expedition despite Lottie’s warnings, resulting in Van nearly getting killed. And, as an adult, she (literally) drives herself mad trying to win her political campaign, pushing her entire family away in the process. Tai is fierce and accomplished, but always at a cost.

Misty: Devotion/Loyalty

When Misty finds someone she views as her ‘person,’ she latches on and does not let go. We see this in the Wilderness with Coach Ben and Crystal; and in the adult timeline with Natalie. Misty desperately wants to be loved, and therefore she will do anything for the people she cares about, hoping that this will gain their affection. She nurses Coach Ben back to health, she shares all of her secrets with Crystal and does everything in her power to ensure that the others don’t eat her body when she dies. For Nat, she not only gets arrested trying to help her, but also snorts her cocaine to prevent her from relapsing (my favorite scene in the whole show ngl), sets up a whole interrogation with Randy, and travels to a compound in the middle of nowhere to find her after she was kidnapped.

This unconditional devotion, however, definitely comes with its flaws. Misty is obsessive about the people she loves, and this obsession often leads to people getting hurt and/or killed. She kills Jessica Roberts in order to save her fellow survivors from blackmail. She drugs Coach Ben with shrooms (and accidentally the whole team) in order to win his affection, which results in Travis nearly getting killed and Javi going missing. She intimidates Crystal off of a cliff to her death when she rejects Misty and kills Nat when she had been trying to protect her. Misty is loyal, but her loyalty results in sociopathic tendencies and the loss of the very same people she is devoting herself to.

Lottie: Spirituality/Open-Mindedness

Lottie’s spirituality and open-mindedness has been key to the group’s survival in the Wilderness. Her ability to see, hear, and sense what other’s cannot (whether you think it’s real or not) gives her teammates in the teen timeline and her cult (intentional community) members in the adult timeline hope and purpose. Without Lottie, the girls likely would have given up on survival long ago. She has an other-worldly, healing presence that those around her are naturally drawn to, and she helps a lot of people as a result.

Lottie’s spirituality can also be dangerous and even deadly, though. Her time as the Wilderness’s prophet causes the group to spiral into ritualistic sacrifices and cannibalism. In the adult timeline, her spirituality gets her locked up in a psych ward for years. Even after she has healed and moved on, Lottie’s belief in supernatural forces catches up with her again and results in her reinstating The Hunt, ultimately causing Nat’s death.

Van: Perseverance/Resilience

This poor butch goalie has almost died a ridiculous amount of times. She gets in a plane crash and is ditched by Jackie and Shauna in the wreckage, narrowly avoiding burning to death. Then, she’s nearly chopped into bits by a plane propeller. Then, she gets brutally and almost fatally mauled by a wolf. Then, she’s nearly burnt to death again on a funeral pyre (while still actively bleeding to death from the wolf attack). Then, her face is stitched up with a sewing needle by a 16 year-old (with no drugs to numb the pain). Then, her girlfriend starts losing control of herself and trying to run off of cliffs in the middle of the night so she has to regularly tie her down and keep watch of her all night. Then, she gets terminal cancer and only has a few months left to live. And that’s not even considering her life before the crash, living with an alcoholic mother that she has to take care of. Needless to say, Van has been through it. And through it all, she maintains her strength and witty sense of humor. She’s a light out in the Wilderness, keeping her team uplifted and laughing even in their worst moments (this girl is literally cracking jokes with her face torn to shreds). Her perseverance through hardship is next level.

However, this perseverance seems to have created a numbness in Van. Over time in the Wilderness, Van becomes more numb and reaction-less to the tragedy and trauma occurring around her. When the group eats Jackie, she bluntly tells Tai “we ate her” with little emotion. When they kill and eat Javi, Van tells Travis she has no regrets because she’s grateful to be alive. In the adult timeline, Van calls off the psych team for Lottie and goes through with the card ritual, knowing that this will likely result in the someone getting killed. Van is resilient and driven to survive through hardships, but her way of surviving means losing a little bit of her heart and humanity in the process.

Jackie: Influence

Before the crash, Jackie is undoubtedly a leader. She’s the Yellowjackets’ team captain and has an almost magnetic force around her that seems to captivate the whole school. She’s pretty, popular, and excels in everything she does. Shauna especially is completely caught in her orbit. When her teammates are fighting at the party, she single-handedly manages to calm them all down and help them mend their conflicts with each other.

The downside to this influence, however, is that it does not transfer to the Wilderness. High school rules don’t apply to trying to survive in the Canadian Rockies, and Jackie’s influence lies in civilization and traditional society. Jackie struggles to have the same power that she did before, and those who are more unconventional (such as Lottie and Nat) have more influence in their new living situation.

Shauna: Intensity/Passion

Shauna is completely driven by her emotions. She feels things strongly and loves people intensely. We see this first with Jackie, who Shauna has an all-consuming (pun-intended) love for. Her world revolves around Jackie, she doesn’t know where she ends and Jackie begins. In the Wilderness, this intensity of emotions translates to a ferocity that keeps her and her teammates alive. Shauna is unafraid to become the butcher of the group or to take the first bite. On the surface, Shauna appears timid, reserved, and gentle. As a teen, she’s invisible at school, hiding in Jackie’s shadow. As an adult, she’s an unassuming, soft-spoken housewife. But underneath is a darkness and fierceness that catches people by surprise and serves as her secret weapon.

The downside to Shauna’s intensity and passion, however, is that she does not have control over it. Her emotions spiral until she or someone close to her gets hurt. She loves Jackie and feels jealous of her, so she sleeps with her boyfriend, gets pregnant with his child, and implodes their friendship. She is deeply mourning Jackie’s death, so she eats a part of her to feel close to her again. She’s grieving the loss of her baby and doesn’t know what to do with that feeling so she nearly beats Lottie to death. She has a feeling Jeff might be cheating so she starts an affair with Adam. Someone stole her minivan? She’s gonna track them down, hold them at gunpoint, and nearly kill them. When she begins to feel unsafe and suspicious of Adam, this feeling, too, spirals out of control and she ends up murdering him. Shauna’s emotions are powerful, and while they do serve an important purpose of keeping her alive in the Wilderness, she doesn’t know how to express them in healthy ways and ends up lashing out as a result. I have a feeling they’re going to play an important role in Season 3, as well, as we can see that Shauna’s jealousy of Nat’s leadership is already beginning to make itself known.

[tossawary]

In "The Princess Bride", Westley is (forgive this phrasing, I mean it relatively fondly) "a petty bitch of a man", but I can kind of see where he's coming from giving Buttercup a hard time at the beginning. It's a very human thing to have a temper.

He went off to seek his fortune and was attacked by pirates, which I assume was a bloody and unpleasant experience. He had to beg for his life and spent a long time as their captive, threatened with death every single day, even if it later turned into a less serious morbid joke. Life on the crew of the most famous pirate in the world was presumably pretty harsh at times and he worked his ass off training himself up to be worth feeding and keeping alive, then to be able to hold his own in this new life. Piracy is hardly a very safe profession.

For all we know, Westley did attempt to send letters home, but he probably had to work hard to scrounge up the money for it and find someone semi-legitimate willing to carry it, and this is hardly an era of reliable mail. He probably had to just hope that Buttercup 1) wouldn't hear the news of his first ship's destruction and/or 2) would trust in his love for her enough to know that he was alive and fighting to come back.

When Westley finally becomes the Dread Pirate Roberts, he's still stuck with the former Dread Pirate Roberts for a little while, and then he has a pirate crew who have expectations of him. He cannot sail the damn ship himself. It probably took a lot of work, threats and persuasion and the slow building of trust, in order to get a ship full of men to eventually take him back to Florin. Like, would he even have told them about Buttercup? (It would be funny if there's a crew of pirates out there cheering Westley on in True Love.) Would he have had to promise them some reward?

He also went out in the world to make his fortune and he already knows that he's dreadfully late, so maybe his position is, "Okay, I will build up trust with my crew by building up our fortunes, WHILE slowly but surely moving back across the world in the direction of Florin so that I can see the love of my life again. This hellish experience traveling all over the damn world will all have been worth it for her."

It's possible that Westley was mostly having silly pirate adventures worthy of a comedic operetta, but based on the tragedies of Inigo and Fezzik's own backstories, this world is not actually that nice. Westley is being flippant and lighthearted when he later summarizes things for Buttercup, but he does seem to be one to make light of / ignore his personal suffering. I do think that he did probably make some friendships through this hardship and had some good experiences along the way, especially near the end, but I also think that the beginning of his journey must have been really shit.

So, Westley fights hard to get back home, then lands somewhere in Florin and is on his way back to the farm, but then finds out from some random villagers (or Buttercup's parents) that his shitty former prince is marrying an incomparably beautiful milkmaid named Buttercup. Like...? The love of his life didn't wait for him (she thought he was dead and is also being forced into this, so that Humperdink can murder her to start a war) and traded up for some SHITHEAD PRINCE??? That has to HURT. (And Westley does not like admitting to feeling pain!)

Even if he loves mischief and drama, Westley is being an unnecessarily huge jerk when he kidnaps Buttercup away from her kidnapping, but also yeah, I see how his temper might be running hot. He's struggling with the fact that his True Love might have moved on after he's probably been using her memory as a thin rope of sanity for years.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hawkeye 2.0

Summary: With great power comes great responsibility.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!reader

Warnings: injuries

Word count: 1106

a/n: the last iconic trope challenge (part 2) fic, hurt/comfort! Let’s pretend it didn’t take me ages to finish this please and thank you

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @natashamaximoff69 @scarsw1fe

masterlists | guidelines

Y/N would always tell Kate her becoming the new Hawkeye didn’t bother her, except that wasn’t really the truth. She loved whatever her girlfriend loved, and if saving people was something she wants to do full time, Y/N would always have her back. However, she hated worrying about her every time she walked out of the door. And she hated seeing her hurt every time she walked back inside.

But, she knew what she signed up for, so she’d deal with it.

It’s already two in the night and Y/N is still awake, pacing Kate’s living room from one wall to the other, her hands mechanically touching them softly before she turns around.

Kate left hours ago and still hasn’t come back, not that she has fixed hours as an Avenger, but she doesn’t usually take this long, even she goes out to fight bad guys.

The news channel is on the television, her eyes glance at it every so often. It’s on mute, Y/N couldn’t bear hearing if something had gone wrong with the Avemgers’ mission, but she also doesn’t want to miss out on anything. The only sounds in the house are the clocks ticking out of sync, and Y/N’s soft footsteps.

Her head snaps towards the door with a flinch when the familiar sound of key opening the door fills the apartment.

She lets out a relieved sigh, immediately making her way to the door, practically forcing it open. “Baby.” Y/N gasps. Her relief turns into worry and care when she sees the state Kate is in. Her body is hunched over, face littered with cuts and bruises, and she is holding onto her side tightly. Still she gives her a smile.

“Hey.” Kate whispers, limping into the living room couch with Y/N’s help.

Y/N turns off the television and puts on a proper light to see the extent of the injuries. “What happened?” Her brows are furrowed and the corners of her mouth are downturned. She gets the med kit before kneeling down next to Kate, starting to take off her suit.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” Kate mumbles. Her eyes are screwed shut as Y/N moves her body around to undress her. “The mission wasn’t exactly successful.”

Y/N hums. She has to blink multiple times to push away the tears threatening to fall. She doesn’t want to cry in front of injured Kate, this moment is about helping her.

A silence falls over the two of them while Y/N patches up any opens cuts and wounds on Kate’s body. Sometimes she lets out a wince or a groan at a particularly painful wound, but otherwise she feels too tired to talk.

After twenty long minutes, Y/N sets the med kit aside, now just looking at Kate. She can see the subtle tremble of her lower lip, the way she is pressing her nails against her palms, and the tension on her face.

“It’s okay.” She whispers, setting a gentle hand on Kate’s cheek. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time.”

Quiet tears start falling down her cheeks as Kate opens her eyes to look at Y/N. She leans against her palm. “What if I’m normal cut out to do this?” Her voice wavers, cracking at the end of the sentence.

“You are.” Y/N sets both of her hands on Kate’s cheeks, her thumbs rubbing them.

“But today was so bad. I really messed up, I endangered the whole mission.”

A frown falls to Y/N’s face. She’s worried. What if Kate isn’t cut out for this? What if one day, she doesn’t come home? “You can’t be perfect on every mission.” She tries to push the thoughts away. “None of the Avengers can. They all have made mistakes, but have you ever blamed them for it?”

Kate shakes her head. “But I’m new. I have to prove my worth.”

“If you have to prove your worth by going to missions until you’ve too exhausted to even get to the bed afterwards, it’s not worth it.” Y/N’s words turn shaky as she tightens her hold on Kate just the slightest. “You’re so good at what you do. And even if I-“ she sniffles, blinking again to keep the tears at bay, “even if I sometimes hate what you do, you shouldn’t worry about impressing them. Because that’s when you get careless and get hurt. You need to focus on helping people, because that’s what you love.”

A steady stream of tears keep falling out of Kate’s eyes as she listens to Y/N words and her tone. The worry is so clear it makes her feel guilty for being the reason for it. She leans her head against Y/N’s shoulder, making the other woman wrap her arms around her tightly.

“You’ll tell me what happened tomorrow, okay? We’ll talk it through. But now you need to sleep, Kate.” Her voice is quiet. “Please, let’s go to sleep.”

Kate nods, pulling away and standing up with Y/N’s help. They walk to the bedroom slowly, and she gets lowered to the bed.

Y/N goes to the closet, getting clean pajamas for them both. She does most of the work while changing Kate into them, but she doesn’t mind, she loves helping Kate in any way she can.

“I’m sorry.” Kat whispers, looking up at Y/N. “I don’t want to make you worried.”

“No, no.” Y/N kisses her forehead and cheeks, the remaining tears wetting her lips. “It’s not your fault. I’m always going to worry about you, no matter what, because I love you. But I also want you to be happy, that’s the most important thing.”

“I’ll ask for a couple days off.”

A surge of happiness goes through Y/N’s body. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Kate moves to lay down under the covers, pulling Y/N down next to her. “I’ve been working hard. Too hard, I think. I want to spend more time with you.”

Y/N lays down next to Kate, carefully cuddling into her. She closes her eyes and nuzzles her face into the crook of her neck. “Thank you.”

Kate wraps her arms around Y/N. Her movements are slow, but the injuries won’t stop her from holding her girl. “You’re the most important thing to me.” She whispers. “And I will always come home to you.”

“I know.” Though the doubt still lures in the back of Y/N’s mind, she does a conscious effort to trust Kate’s words.

She’ll always come home to her.

[jinwoosungs]

{ 185 }

god is a woman.

yandere!jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: an unedited, 18+ thirst post / drabble.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: This thought came out of my head 😖 Another yandere jinwoo story but smut? Sheeshh 😵‍💫 I don't know if you're willing to try this but it's your choice dear 🤭

you didn’t know how you got into this situation-

“please, just let me claim those sweet lips of yours.”

one moment, your boyfriend of merely three months takes your phone away from your grasps, an almost pleading look seen in his eyes as he hovers over you on the couch. he kept begging for your attention and affections, coming on so strongly that you found it difficult to deny him of what he wanted.

since you were still so in love with him, you relented and welcomed him with open arms, allowing his heavy weight to settle across your form as he greedily takes your lips within his-

and the next-

you were left gasping, remaining completely and utterly bare for him as he rips your clothes to shreds. with the powerful hunter settled between your thighs, you arch your back against the sofa, feeling his flattened tongue trace at your pulsating cunt that had you reeling in response.

jinwoo was relentless, prodding his tongue in and out of your slick walls as he traces at the edges, making you cry out as you gripped at the cushions in response.

“jinwoo… oh jinwoo… i thought it was o-only a kiss- fuck!”

the way his rich chuckle was felt vibrating against your slickness makes you arch your back. with the tip of his tongue remaining glued to your honeyed sweetness, he mutters with a guttural groan, “but i am kissing your sweet lips… your pussy lips are divine…”

you felt the heat travel throughout your skin, clearly not used to his dirty talk as jinwoo proceeded to devour you like a mad man starved. tears began to well within your eyes, and you felt something snap from deep within you when jinwoo introduces his thick, middle finger inside of your wetness. the way he makes a come hither motion with his fingers was enough to bring you over the edge, leaving you gasping as you felt something snap from deep inside of you.

you swore you felt your toes curl and your eyes rolling to the back of your head when the warm juices escape from your core, your moans practically echoing throughout the living room as jinwoo continued to pump his finger in and out of you, eyes filled with a deep and dark affection when he sees the clear fluids running down his thick finger.

yet jinwoo gives you little time to bask in your recent release, hearing the sudden shifting of fabric as he quite literally reveals his cock before shoving his painful erection deep inside of your still pulsating walls. the sudden intrusion of his cock deep inside of your cunt makes your climax all the more powerful, with you trying to milk jinwoo for all he was worth from the way it gripped his dick so tightly.

but not even the vice grip of your gummy walls still caught up in its release was enough to soften jinwoo’s cock. he keeps your body still, hands tightly gripping at your sides before drilling himself into you. the squelching sounds of your connected bodies was enough to make your head spin and breast bounce in tune with his passionate movements.

a dark chuckle was heard coming from jinwoo as he purposely spreads your legs before pounding relentlessly inside of you, mouth already curling against the hardened bud of your nipple before telling you, “you’re mine mine mine mine… all mine to worship and care for.”

in the midst of your throes of passion, you caught a glimpse of jinwoo’s gaze, seeing the obsession and madness shining from deep within them as he proceeds to fuck you into the couch. “you feel so fucking good surrounding me like this… gonna worship you like you deserve… gonna worship you like you’re my only goddess… the only one i believe in- fuck!”

he was unhinged, and you felt your heart twist with fear for the briefest of moments-

only to feel all feelings of that said fear disappear into thin air when he makes you lose count of the times he had made you cum throughout the night-

perhaps god was a woman after all.

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

[jenanigans1207]

My headcanon is that being healed by grace is painful for everyone except Dean. Not significantly painful, but maybe with a little sting or a bit of a burning sensation. Human bodies aren’t typically fit to carry grace, after all, so it’s just a little uncomfortable to be healed by it, even if it’s worth it.

But for Dean? No pain at all, not when it’s Cas’s grace. I think the moment Cas tagged his soul when he saved it from hell, Dean’s soul latched onto Cas and his grace. So every time Cas heals him, Dean’s soul recognizes the grace and welcomes it as familiar, and friendly, and has no problems with it being there.

Which is one of two reasons Cas touches Dean when he heals him but doesn’t touch anyone else. Because Dean can handle it, because it doesn’t hurt Dean, because Dean’s body and soul both welcome it instead of fear it. (The other reason, of course, is just so he has an excuse to touch Dean).

I also headcanon that this is only the case for Cas’s grace because Dean’s soul finds comfort in it, and if any other angel were to try and heal him, he would experience the same discomfort as everyone else.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Could you do where shy reader is getting bullied by nesta or something and cassian her mate (or another bat boy) like finds out and confronts Nesta. (sorry if this is cringy)

Switched this up a bit, hope you’ll still enjoy it.

Heart too sweet

“You need to stop giving her chances”, Azriel grunted watching you pack yet another bag full of food and whatnot for Nesta of all people. “Don’t say it like that”,’ you frowned shaking your head. You had tried to make her feel seen and wanted in the family. But she wasn’t helping the cause much. “Love”, Azriel stepped closer, taking hold of both of your hands, kissing them softly, “I know how deep nurturing is in your body but this is a suicide mission”, Azriel loved the way you loved. It had been one of the reasons he had fallen for you in the first place. Your willingness to give grace to others, no matter the situation pained him just as much. Cause your love has hit more than one unbreakable wall. Nesta is one of them.

“She is having a hard time with the shift wouldn’t you?”, you looked up at your mate with desperate eyes. Knowing that more than anything he understood the hardship of being completely alone. “I’ve seen Cassian head first on the table after interacting with her”, he pushed on. And it was true his brother was tumbling right alongside the woman he had foolishly fallen for. One that had shown him time after time that she didn’t want anything to do with him. “Well you Illyrian babies are known for your soft hearts”, you couldn’t help but smirk, reaching up to tap Azriel’s cheek.

“I'm being serious”, he warned you, even if he knew that you wouldn’t budge. “So am I”, you crossed your arms over your chest, keeping an unfeeling eye contact with your mate, “It’s just a basket full of stuff she might need for her first bleed and some salves for the pains and aches of the newly transformed body”. He understood the reasoning, he would be doing the same but just the person. It was the person that you were doing this for that bothered Azriel. “I just don’t want you getting upset over this”, cupping your face Azriel leaned in pressing his forehead against yours. “She’s just a girl in desperate need of love”, you looked up at him, “What’s the worst that could happen”.

How naive have you been? Mentally beating yourself as you rushed through the streets of Velaris. Dress stained with the same jams and other goodies you had brought her. Ones she had thrown right at you. Yet that wasn’t the part that had hurt you the most. It’s her words that cut the deepest. Her drunken slurs had thrown the sharpest of knives. Making you feel small and vulnerable. “That’s all you can offer me, a jam?”, she had yelled right at your face, “Start by giving me my life back”. “It will all settle and you will grow into…”, you had tried to reason. Had tried to make her see the beauty of the life in front of her. “What for? So I could be another whore in their bed?”, her burning eyes watched you, “Don’t look so mortified. I know how they sleep around, what number are you to him? 257?”. Such bitter feelings had poured out of her.

“My love”, you had practically run into a solid chest, one that quickly reached up to steady you. One that instantly felt like home. “Why are you crying?”, Azriel’s fingers lifted your chin, before he looked around searching for any threat. You simply shook your head. His face shifted then. “Don’t”, you begged, “Leave it, you were right. It wasn’t worth it”, you pulled at his hand, not wanting to bring any more problems on Nesta’s behalf.

“What’s going on?”, Cassian’s concerned eyes looked you over. “That fucking brat is what’s going on”, Azriel snarled, bringing you closer to his chest. “Brought Nesta some goodies”, you explained to the general. The rest he could see with his own two eyes. Sadness like no other flooded his eyes. One that you knew all too well as well. “She’ll come around”, you muttered. “How can you still defend her, she needs to be sent away”, Azriel growled. “Someone has to”, you breathed beneath your breath, not missing the slightest nod Cass gave you. The silent thanks for at least trying.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hii i have a few questions if that's ok, sorry if they have been answered before! for context i'm a girl (17) with all the typical cis female biology (as far as i'm aware) and a virgin. (pls only answer if this asks on anon)

for 1. is it healthy for my vaginal smell to be like that of yeast? it smells almost bready and i've heard that your diet can strongly affect the way you smell there and does this mean there's foods i should cut down on/prioritise?

2. i tried out anal fingering recently and it feels good but also makes me feel nervous, because it feels not quite painful but stretchy and i've heard that there's higher risks of tears and haemorrhoids i think? also i don't have the "right" anatomy for it. so how do i know at which point to stop with it? i've been very cautious so far but is a certain level of not-quite-pain-but-that-stretchy-intense-feeling normal? also is it worth it to invest in lube? previously i've just used. other bodily liquids. i don't want my parents to know i'm doing this so is it worth it to pass it off as just wanting extra lubrication for other masturbation

3. this might be the one that's tmi. also possibly very gross i'm sorry </3 i've just never seen this brought up Anywhere at all and i'm too anxious to ask or look it up. when i put my fingers in, sometimes i can feel the uhh feces through the back vaginal wall (even when i don't feel the need to use the restroom) and as you can imagine it's super awkward and a huge turn off and frustrating when i'm horny, and that probably means i need to wait a little and use the restroom and masturbate later, right?

hi anon,

1.) a yeasty smell in your vagina is usually considered a sign of thrush, an overgrowth of yeast in the vagina. it can be treated with antifungal medication.

2.) everyone has the right anatomy for anal sex, as long as they have an anus, but it does require care since the tissue inside of the anal cavity tears easily and is prone to infection if damaged. using lube (lots of lube) will help a lot. silicone lube is often preferred for anal sex, but truly any lube is preferable to none and is certainly better than using other bodily fluids, very few of which are appropriate or abundant enough to act sufficiently as lubricant. so will wearing protective latex or nitrile gloves like these, which are available in bulk at most drug stores:

the gloves offer two-fold protection as they smooth the penetration and decrease the risk of tears in your anus and decrease the risk of you harboring any bacteria or fecal matter on your hands that you don't want to spread elsewhere.

3. the thing you're describing is far from unheard of, and is in fact sometimes recommended to help cure constipation!

the body is a lot of processes happening on top of each other simultaneously, and that includes your fecal matter and your vaginal wall. like you already said, if it's an issue that's distracting, just wait to masturbate until you've recently had a bowel movement; there isn't much else to be done for it.

[owlespresso]

dogged pursuit. dr veritas ratio. p3 of ? / part 1, part 2 summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags. suggestive content, reader insert is a bit of a freak, mr dr ratio is getting OBJECTIFIED!

He’s doing it, again. You’re sure he’s not even cognizant of it. The irresistible nature of him, nestled in every curve and bough of his body, perfect and smooth as the statues he painstakingly labors over.

He’s been quieter, today. You get the sense that he feels a little guilty about his tantrum yesterday. It’s already water under the bridge, as far as you’re concerned. He can have a mouth on him because he’s pretty. Because you’re sure there’s some deep-seated inferiority complex entrenched at the root of his behavior.

What you can’t abide by is him sneaking off to go out on his own. You’ve made the rookie mistake of sneaking in a short, afternoon nap, only to wake and find him nowhere within your shared domicile. You’re his body-guard. How are you supposed to guard his body if he doesn’t tell you that he’s going out for a run? 

Watery sunlight filters in through the half-opened blinds. It’s cloudy, today. A pressure weighs heavy in the air, the kind that rolls in before a nasty storm. You’re half-resolved to go out looking for him, even though you know he can well handle himself. Fortunately, he strolls in through the front door before you have to make that call. 

He’s in a t-shirt and shorts that don’t even reach his mid-thigh. They’re too tight for him, fabric hugging his ass, his hips. You let your gaze roll up the length of his calves and thighs, skin covered by a thin sheen of sweat. A bead of it rolls down the side of his face, caresses the sharp angle of his cheekbone. 

“You didn’t tell me you were goin’ for a run,” you grouse at him. He bends down to undo the laces on his white sneakers, and your fingers clench tight into fists. Long, smooth legs. Shiny with perspiration from the run, glimmering underneath that dull sunlight. He leaves his shoes against the wall all neat-like, and then turns to lock the front door. He takes his sweet time in answering you, makes sure you know your concerns are hardly worth his time. Brat.

“You were asleep,” he says. His voice is airy with faux innocence. “I’m not a child. I’ve told you countless times that I do not need an escort—I am an adult—a doctor, mind you, and I can very well take care of myself. The fact that I fended off my assailant on my own should be proof enough of that.”

“I know all that—you’ve been telling me since the day we met. But think of it from my point of view. If anything happens to you while we’re here, anything at all, it’s my head on the line! There’re IPC goons crawling all over this town. What if one of them sees you, without me, thinks I’ve been slacking, and reports me to the higher ups?” you tilt your head to the side. Once again, you’re reminded of how few friends Veritas Ratio has likely ever had—how wanting to educate the universe’s populace doesn’t necessarily equate to his ability to see another person’s perspective. He’s arrogant, yes, but he isn’t devious. He wouldn’t hope to get you in trouble. 

“I…” he says, and then swallows. The conflict plays out across his face. As subtle as it is, you can see it in the way his jaw tightens and his lips purse together. It takes only a few seconds before he’s pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Very well. I… apologize. I failed to see it from your point of view. We may have our… disagreements, but I wouldn’t want to see you harmed.”

“Disagreements? What’re you talking about?” you say, flatly. “I agree with almost everything you say, all the time.”

Another pause. “Yes, you do.” He sounds pained. He runs a hand through his wind-tousled hair as he approaches the table, where a water bottle sits next to a blue and white vase. “About that, you should make more of an effort to form your own opinions, even if I happen to not agree with them.”

“Oh?” you grab his wrist. “Really? You’re the kinda guy who likes being listened to though, aren’t ya?”

“You make me sound like some sort of tyrant,” Veritas scoffs. “Having a social circle populated by individuals with diverse opinions is healthier than being surrounded by mere yes-men,” he says, spitting the word out with no small amount of venom. “That’s how the Genius Society has declined so steeply in the last few decades, only approving those who fit a very specific set of standards. It’s a recipe for stagnation, I tell you, and the blind worship paid to them—”

You half-listen to him. He winds himself up with no prodding from you at all, expression warped with displeasure at the mere thought of his intellectual rivals. You lean over and draw his sweaty hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it. He cuts himself into a series of surprised, and indignant splutters.

“Whatever you say, beautiful,” you coo, swiping your tongue over the back of his wrist. The tang of sweat-borne salt nearly makes you shudder. 

He draws his hand back to his side like he’s been stung, and you release him with a coy smile. He cradles it to his chest, pale cheeks flushed with color. And he gets stuck like that, for a few seconds, completely jarred. For all the whining you’ve heard about his temper and supposed long-windedness, all it really takes to strike the mighty doctor silent is a few, choice actions.

“You are a menace,” he glowers, and stomps towards the stairs. The steps groan underneath his weight. You admire the plump curve of his ass, the flex of his thighs with each angry step. 

Evening turns and tosses into deep night. The house is swaddled in deep shadow. You think about the taste as you stare up at the ceiling, remember the way his ears had turned pink in the pale grey light.

A pulse of thunder groans in the distance.

[safeheaven4me]

In a dimly lit, slightly crowded bar, an 18-year-old boy named Kevin sits at a small table. Outside, the sound of a motorcycle engine catches his attention as a large biker walks in. The man, known as Mark, stands 220 cm tall and is solidly built, adding to his intimidating appearance.

Mark: Hey, kid! I see you're sitting here alone. Do you like motorcycles?

Kevin: A bit... I mean, I've never ridden one.

Mark (smiling encouragingly): How about a little ride? I have my trusty old bike with me. It could be exciting!

Kevin, initially unsure, feels a thrill at the thought of a motorcycle ride.

Kevin: Sounds great... But where are we going?

Mark: Oh, I know a few quiet spots, perfect for a night ride. It will be safe, I promise.

As they set off, the city fades behind them, and Mark leads towards distant, dark forests. The atmosphere becomes more tense.

Kevin (slightly anxious): Mark, this is really far from the city... where are we going?

Mark (with a mysterious smile): I just want us to be a bit off the beaten path, where we can fully enjoy the ride without any disturbances.

Breaking the silence of the night, only the sound of the motorcycle echoes through the empty roads. When they reach a secluded clearing in the forest, Mark stops the motorcycle.

Kevin: Is this the place you were talking about?

Mark: Yes, here is perfect. (glancing at Kevin with an intensity that makes the young man feel increasingly uneasy)

In the moonlight filtering through the thick tree canopy, the clearing seems like another world. Kevin feels his heart beat faster, watching Mark, who now appears even more imposing and menacing in this secluded spot.

Mark (patting his large belly with satisfaction): You know, riding a motorcycle can work up an appetite. Like a fire needs wood, I need... you know, something good.

Kevin hears a faint growl coming from Mark's stomach, highlighting the difference in their sizes and strength. Mark is nearly twice Kevin's size, and his mass seems palpable even in the air between them.

Kevin (nervously): Mark, I think we should head back. It's getting late, and I... I have a lot to do.

Mark (smiling broadly): Ah, Kevin, just a little longer. It's really worth feeling this freedom, don't you think?

Mark steps closer to Kevin, his shadow almost entirely covering him. Kevin turns away, trying to understand the situation he's found himself in. The chill of the night air mixes with the warmth emanating from Mark, and the distant sounds of nature add tension to the scene.

Mark (almost whispering): Kevin, sometimes life throws us challenges that are... hard to swallow. But in the end, all we need to do is accept our fate.

Kevin, sensing growing danger, tries to find a way to escape, but Mark is too close, and his presence overwhelms the young boy.

Mark, sensing Kevin's hesitation, still smiles mysteriously, somewhat calming the atmosphere. The tension in the air does not diminish, but Kevin begins to realize that he has few options.

Mark: Understand, Kevin, that some experiences are more... consuming than others. Sometimes you just have to give in to the moment.

Kevin (nervously): But... what exactly do you mean?

Mark slowly approaches Kevin, his shadow covering the young boy like the darkness of the night. He looks at him for a moment and then smiles widely.

Mark: Just relax. This will be something you'll never forget.

Mark, with visible satisfaction on his face, gently guides Kevin towards his mouth, which now seems to open wider than ever before. His breath is warm and heavy, and each inhale seems to draw Kevin closer.

Mark (with deep satisfaction): You know, every new experience has its unique flavor. Don't worry, I will enjoy every moment.

As Kevin is on the edge, Mark gently envelops him with his mouth, initially delicately, as if savoring the moment. The boy feels himself being gradually consumed, first his head, then his shoulders. Despite the fear, he is surprised by the absence of pain; it is more of a feeling of being wrapped in a warm, dark blanket.

Mark feels every contour of Kevin on his tongue, relishing each moment. Kevin's height and slimness make this a completely new experience for him. Every movement Kevin makes in his mouth reminds Mark how extraordinary this sensation is.

Mark (talking to himself, with Kevin still partially outside): It's amazing how every person has their unique taste and texture. It's something I will never stop appreciating.

After a while, Kevin is completely inside, and Mark closes his mouth. Darkness is complete, and the sounds of the outside world become muffled and distant. Mark feels Kevin gently moving in his stomach, which gives him a strange pleasure. This sensation of movement, warmth, life inside him is something fascinating.

Mark, after swallowing Kevin, slowly lies on his back on the soft grass of the clearing. The astonishing silence of the night forest surrounds him, and the only sound is the distant rustling of trees and the occasional calls of nocturnal animals. In the moonlight, his huge belly gently rises and falls with each breath.

Mark (to himself, with clear satisfaction): It's an amazing feeling.

Closing his eyes, he begins to slowly massage his stomach, where Kevin is now surrounded by darkness and warmth. Mark’s movements are rhythmic and gentle, making the sensation in his stomach more noticeable. Each press of his hands makes him feel Kevin's gentle movements, adding a sense of calm and satisfaction.

At this moment, Mark begins to speak to Kevin, even though he cannot hear him:

Mark: Don't worry, you're safe. This place is like no other, both for you and for me. Let this moment last as long as possible.

As the night flows with its lazy rhythm, Mark, after moments of deep reflection and relaxation, starts to feel fatigue overcoming his body. Slowly, almost unconsciously, his eyes close, and his breathing becomes even and deep. In this moment of peace, Mark falls asleep under the starry sky, on the secluded clearing.

Inside Mark, Kevin, who initially felt terror and confusion, gradually begins to calm down, comforted by the warmth and darkness. However, as Mark sleeps, the situation inevitably heads towards the natural process of digestion, which begins as Mark's body enters a state of rest.

In this delicate balance between sleep and wakefulness, the biological processes in Mark's body gradually activate. Kevin starts to feel subtle changes in his surroundings— the warmth becomes more intense, and the walls around him become more active, pulsating rhythmically with each of Mark's breaths.

Kevin, though still in uncertainty, starts to realize that his fate is now inextricably linked with the biological processes of Mark's body. Anxiety mixes with a strange acceptance of this extraordinary and unexpected end to his journey.

As the first rays of the morning sun break through the dense branches of the trees, Mark wakes up from a deep sleep. At first, he is confused, trying to recall the events of the previous evening. However, as he realizes what he has done, the initial shock slowly transforms into other feelings.

Mark (to himself, with surprise): Oh no, what have I done...

As the memories of the night clear in his mind, his amazement turns into something akin to pride. Kevin, the young boy he so much wanted to "protect" in his own unique way, is now a part of him—literally.

Mark (murmuring, patting his stomach): Well, every journey has its end. And you, Kevin, are now with me... wherever I go.

With a full stomach and a feeling of satisfaction, Mark quickly gets up and heads to his motorcycle. His movements are a bit sluggish, but the determination to reach the nearest restroom gives him energy. After such a huge meal, his body demands relief, and Mark knows he must act quickly.

Stopping his motorcycle at a small, isolated gas station, Mark hurries to the restroom, his steps echoing on the concrete. Inside, facing the consequences of his actions, he looks down with a mixture of satisfaction and contemplation.

Mark (to himself, looking down): Well, that was faster than usual.

His gaze is fixed on what remains of Kevin. Although this moment is both triumphant and reflective for him, Mark feels a certain pride in the efficiency of his body. Patting his stomach, he allows himself a moment of satisfaction with his own strength and efficiency.

Mark (talking to himself): Kevin, you were unique, but that’s how it is. Everyone becomes part of something bigger.

Leaving the restroom, Mark looks once more at his reflection in the mirror, inspecting his massive stomach. He smiles slightly, recalling the extraordinary moments of the past evening, which will forever change his perspective on these unique experiences.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Falling Behind

Patrick Zweig x Fem Reader

cw: like one use or y/n

(loosely inspired by Falling Behind by Laufey)

This Ask!

The doorbell rang, echoing through your quiet Syracuse apartment. It was an unwelcome sound, one that signaled the arrival of someone you had been trying to forget. The last person you expected to see was him.

“The Toxic Ex” as your friends called him. the ex who had left a trail of heartbreak and confusion in his wake.

You opened the door hesitantly, your heart pounding. There he stood, looking disheveled and desperate, a far cry from the confident man you once knew. His baby blues, usually so piercing, were now filled with a pleading sadness.

"Can we please talk Y/n?"

He asked, his voice rough with emotion.

You crossed your arms wrapping them around yourself covering your tiny night-set, leaning against the doorframe.

"What do you want, Zweig?"

You scoffed.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy brown hair.

"I need to apologize. I know I messed up, and I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

As he spoke all the memories of your relationship flooded back the highs, the intense connection.

But also the lows, the manipulation, and the constant feeling of falling behind.

You had spent months trying to piece yourself back together after he left.

"Why now?"

You demanded, your voice wavering.

"Why show up after all this time?"

He stepped closer you fought the urge to step back instead staying leaned against your doorframe his eyes never leaving yours.

"I was scared, scared of losing you, scared of my own feelings. But losing you was the worst mistake of my life. Please, give me another chance."

All of the memories played in your mind, a haunting reminder of how you felt during your time together.

Always trying to keep up, always feeling like you were never enough for him.

But here he was, begging for forgiveness, a broken man.

"How do I know you won't hurt me again?"

You muttered your defenses slowly crumbling.

Patrick's gaze softened, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out.

"You don't. But I promise I'll spend every day proving that I'm worth the second chance. I'll never take you for granted again."

You shook your head, trying to keep your stance on this situation.

"Patrick, you hurt me. You made me feel like I was constantly chasing after something I could never catch."

His eyes were filled with genuine regret.

"I know."

His voice cracking.

"I know I hurt you, and I can't change the past. But I love you. I've always loved you, and I can't let you go without trying to make things right."

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. Part of you wanted to slam the door in his face, to protect yourself from the pain he had caused.

But another part, a smaller, quieter part, longed for the love you once shared.

"Do you really think you can change?"

You asked your voice barely above a whisper.

Patrick nodded, determination shining in his eyes.

"I've been working on myself, trying to understand why I did the things I did. I know it won't be easy, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I want to be the man you deserve."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit.

All you saw was a man who was truly sorry, who was willing to do whatever it took to win you back.

Maybe it was foolish, but you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that people could change, that love could conquer the deepest wounds.

"Okay," you said softly. "But this is your last chance, Patrick.

If you hurt me again, we're done for good."

You said now standing up straight from your doorway.

He nodded, tears of relief glistening in his eyes. "I won't let you down. I promise."

As he pulled you into his arms, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other. Maybe you could heal and grow stronger together.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you felt a strange sense of peace. Falling behind was no longer an option.

This time, you would walk side by side, facing whatever came your way.

Later that evening, as you both sat on your cream sofa, the silence between you was comforting rather than oppressive.

Patrick held your hand, squeezing it gently. "Tell me everything,"

He said softly.

"I want to know what you went through, how I made you feel. I need to hear it."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of release as you began to speak.

The words poured out of you, each one a step towards healing.

Patrick listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, absorbing every painful detail.

As the night wore on, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe, with honesty and effort, you could rebuild what was broken.

In that moment, you realized that sometimes, falling behind can lead you to a place where you can finally catch up, together.

[onlycosmere]

Brandon Sanderson doing a reading from Stormlight 5.

Transcript of the reading is below:

Chapter Shallan One

Shallan lingered atop Lasting Integrity, the great fortress of the honorspren, thinking about all the people she'd been. The way she changed based on perspective. Indeed, life was largely about perspective. Like this strange structure: a hollow, rectangular block hundreds of feet tall, dominating Shadesmar's landscape. People—spren—lived along the inside walls, walking up and down them, ignoring conventions of gravity. Looking down along one of the inside walls could be stomach-churning, unless you changed your perspective. Unless you convinced yourself that walking up and down that wall was normal. Whether a person was strong or not wasn't usually subject to debate; yet if gravity could be a matter of opinion...

She turned away from the heart of Lasting Integrity and walked along the very top of the wall, looking out to survey Shadesmar. Rolling ocean of beads in one direction; jagged obsidian highlands lined with crystalline trees in the other. On the wall with her, an even more daunting sight: two spren with heads made of geometric lines, each wearing a robe of some too-stiff, glossy black material.

Two spren.

She'd bonded two. One during her childhood, one as an adult. She'd hurt the first and suppressed the memory. Shallan knelt down before Testament, her original spren. The cryptic sat with her back to the stone railing. The lines and pattern that made up her head were crooked, like broken twigs. Int he center, the lines were scratched and rough, as if someone had taken a knife to them. More telling, her pattern was almost frozen.

Nearby, Pattern's head pulsed like a vibrant heart, always moving, always forming some new geometric display. Comparing the two broke Shallan's heart. She had done this to Testament by rejecting the bond after using her Shardblade to kill her mother.

Testament reached out with a long-fingered hand, and Shallan, pained, took it. It gripped hers lightly. But Shallan got the sense that it was all the strength Testament had. Testament responded to being a deadeye differently from Maya, who stood nearby with Adolin and Kelek. Maya had always seemed strong of body, even as a deadeye. Spren broke in different ways, it appeared. Just like people.

Testament squeezed Shallan's hand again, bearing no expression but that torpid motion of lines. "Why?" Shallan asked. "Why don't you hate me?"

Pattern rested his hand on Shallan's shoulder. "We both knew the danger, the sacrifice in bonding to humans again."

"I hurt her."

"Yet, here you are," Pattern said, "able to stand tall. Able to control the Surges. Able to protect the world."

"She should hate me," Shallan whispered. "But there's no vitriol in the way she holds my hand. No judgement in the way she remains with us."

"Because the sacrifice was worth something, Shallan," Pattern said, uncharacteristically reserved. "It worked. In the end, you recovered, did better. I am still here, and remarkably, I am not even a little bit dead. I do not think you will kill me at all, Shallan. I am very happy about that."

"Can I heal her?" Shallan asked. "Maybe if I bond her again?"

"I think, after talking to Kelek," Pattern said, "I think you are still bonded to her."

"But..." Shallan looked over her shoulder at him. "I broke the bond. That did this."

"Some breaks are messy," Pattern said. "A slice with a sharpened knife is clean. A slice with a dull one is ragged. Your break, done by a child without full intent, is like the one ragged. In some ways, that makes it worse. But it does mean there is still some Connection between you two."

"So..."

"So, no," Pattern said. "I do not think merely saying words again would heal her." His head pattern spun a little more slowly, as if he were contemplating something profound. "These numbers are unfamiliar, Shallan. Strange. Irrational. And a sequence I do not understand. I mean... I mean we are walking on unfamiliar ground. A better metaphor for you, yes. Unfamiliar ground."

In the deep past, deadeyes did not exist. It was what they had learned, in part, from the honorspren and from Maya. The deadeyes—all of them except Testament—had been bonded to ancient Radiants before the Recreance. Together, they had rejected their oaths, human and spren alike. They thought it would cause a painful but survivable split. Instead, something had gone terribly wrong. The result had been the deadeyes. The explanation might lie with Kelek, the very person Shallan had been sent to Lasting Integrity to kill.

She squeezed Testament's hand. "I'm going to help you," Shallan whispered. "Whatever it takes." Testament didn't respond, but Shallan leaned in, wrapping her arms around the cryptic. Pattern's robe always felt hard, yet Testament's bent like cloth. "Thank you," Shallan said, for coming to me when I was young. Thank you for protecting me. I still do not remember it all, but thank you."

The cryptic slowly but deliberately put her arms around Shallan and squeezed back.

"Rest, now," Shallan said, wiping her eyes and standing up. "I'm going to figure this out."

* * *

Shallan and Pattern left Testament to rest and crossed the wall at Lasting Integrity to meet with Adolin, Maya, and the Herald Kelek, who were speaking with a kind of spren that Kelek called a seon. She manifest as a hovering ball of light roughly the size of a head, with an odd symbol at the center. Other than them, the wall top was empty this day.

"You don't remember?" Pattern asked softly as he and Shallan walked. "The events with Testament? I thought you did. I thought, with Veil gone..."

"Veil is not gone," Shallan said. "She's part of me, like she always was."

"I don't understand."

"It's hard to explain," Shallan said, "and I'm not sure I've entirely figured it out. Healing is not an event, Pattern, but a process. I've incorporated Veil into myself so she doesn't take control any longer, but she's not gone. Veil is me, but Veil is not always Shallan."

"But... you are Shallan."

"Imagine it," she said, "as Veil moving to the back of the wagon as we ride to the future. She's still there, coaching me, and we're both aware of the world." There was more to it than that, of course. Shallan had projected some uncomfortable aspects of herself into Veil; now she had to face them. She'd worried that Adolin would find it difficult, but, well... Adolin Kholin was storming wonderful. After the discussion last night, he seemed to understand. Together, they knew that there was work to do, but Shallan had taken an enormous step toward healing. And along with it, acknowledged something important: she didn't deserve hatred, but understanding. It was hard to believe, but Veil insisted they try anyway.

"But..." Pattern said, "Radiant is still separate?"

"More separate," Shallan said.

"Mmm... so still in the front of the wagon."

"Yes. That might change. It might not need to change. I'm figuring this out as I go, Pattern. But I do feel better. More importantly, I no longer need Veil to stand between me and the memories."

"So you do remember!"

"Yes and no," Shallan said. "It's a jumble. I was young, and the events were traumatic, and there was so much pain associated with memories of my mother. I need time to process."

"Mmm... humans are squishy. Not just bodies; minds, too. Memories, too. Ideas, too. Mmm..." He seemed pleased by that.

As a child, she'd bonded a spren. Something her mother had not liked. A man had come, either to hurt Shallan or separate her from Testament. Her father had fought him, and during their struggle, Shallan's mother had come at her with a knife. In self-defense, Shallan had killed her mother with an early manifestation of Testament as a Shardblade. Shallan, in trauma, had rejected her nascent oath and buried those memories. But if her bond with Testament had never been fully broken, what did that mean? And which memories of those days between her mother's death and the arrival of Pattern... which of those involved Testament?

I knew I had a Shardblade, long before I had bonded Pattern. I thought about it in Kharbranth. She'd convinced herself that the weapon belonged to her father and had been kept in a safe. She'd gone there before leaving and drawn it out to dismiss it, pretending it was an ordinary Blade, pretending she had ten seconds to summon it. However, a part of her had known, even then, it was Testament, a friend to whom she'd done great harm. That was the one thing Shallan clearly remembered. Testament was her friend. A dimpled pattern on the wall that had delighted, then engaged, then protected a young girl.

Her spren had never been as talkative as Pattern. Indeed, Shallan could only remember rare, soft fragments of speech, encouraging her to stand against the darkness in her family. Shallan had loved her mysterious spren dearly. Though her memories were jumbled, the emotions shone through the pain. Strength could be a matter of perception, sometimes, and today Shallan found she could choose strength.

They approached Adolin, Maya, and Kelek. Shallan still found it incredible that this man was one of the Heralds of the Almighty. The short, balding fellow kept rubbing his hands together, as if washing them with an invisible soap and water. Adolin and Maya practically towered over him as they spoke to the ball of light.

Maya was obviously paying attention. She wasn't completely healed; her eyes were still scratched out, and her coloring wan brown instead of vibrant green like the others of her kind, but she was getting better. She no longer wandered off or just stared blankly during conversations. She was even starting to talk more, here and there.

"I worry about what is to come," the ball of light was saying. It had transformed into an approximation of Wit's face, made all of soft white-blue light, and spoke with his voice. The spren was a way to contact him, as they'd discovered a few days ago. "The war is about to intensify. It all rests upon the contest of champions. Odium's chosen warrior against whomever old Dalinar chooses."

"Father will choose himself," Adolin said. "When the Blackthorn needs to be certain something is done right, he will do it himself." Adolin paused, then glanced at Maya. "Storm him, he's probably our best chance, though."

"Wit," Shallan said. "It's really happening?"

"It is indeed. The contest is set, contracts agreed to. Shallan, they've set it for ten days from now."

"So soon?" Shallan asked. "Storms. Where?"

"Urithiru," Adolin said, arms folded. "They've already sent Windrunners to get us, apparently. Should arrive today." Shallan chewed on that, trying to to feel emotional whiplash. It had taken weeks to reach Lasting Integrity, but Windrunners could have them back to Urithiru within the day, depending on how much Stormlight they brought.

She found herself eager to return. She'd had enough of the honorspren and their elitism. She missed blue skies and plants that didn't crinkle when you touched them. Though Shadesmar had a sun, it was distant and cold. She could never thrive here. Plus, as she'd indicated to Testament, she had work to do.

"Wit," Shallan said, stepping closer, the glowing version of his face focused on her. "My brothers are safe? You're certain?"

"Very certain, Brilliant One," he said back, soft. "You're sure the Ghostbloods will move against you?"

"Yes," she said. After a year and a half of flirting with the Ghostbloods, she'd finally stepped up and said no. Doing so had essentially declared war on them. She found Adolin's hand for support. He knew the entire story, now. "Wit, I know their faces, their plans. I'm likely the greatest threat on the planet to their organization, and they've tried to kill Jasnah for less. Everyone I love is in danger."

"I have to manage Dalinar and try to prepare him," Wit said, "but I think I can help you, as well. I've been watching Mraize's little crew; I'll send your people my drawings of their members. But take care, Shallan. I know this group and their leader; they can be brutal."

"As can I," Shallan whispered. She glanced at Kelek, who was staring out over the bead ocean and the deadeyed spren who still stood on the shore. Despite him, she felt safe here, with Pattern, Adolin, and Maya. Safe enough to voice it. "Wit, I'm worried, though. Am I ready?"

"I ask myself that same question, now and then," he said. "And, Shallan, I'm ten thousand years old."

"During the trip," she said, "I started to create a new persona, Wit. Formless. A version of me, but..." How did she explain it? "A version of me with no face. A version of me who could do terrible things. I walked away from it, Wit, but that capacity is still inside of me."

"Shallan," he said, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. "If it weren't for that capacity, then what good would choices be? If we never had the power to do terrible things, then what heroism would it be to resist?"

"But..."

"Did you turn it away?" he asked. And Adolin squeezed her hand.

"Yes."

"Then heroism it is, Shallan."

"I'm remembering what I did to my mother," she said. "And my father. And, to a lesser extent, Tyn and now Mraize. I'm going to have to kill him, Wit. Is that my destiny? To kill every person who has ever mentored me?" In that, finally, her fears found voice. Did it sound silly, foolish, ridiculous? This pattern she'd seen in her life?

Wit did not laugh, though, and he considered himself an expert on what was ridiculous. "Would that any of us," he said, "could protect ourselves from the costs of heroism. But, again, if there were no costs, no sacrifice, then would it be heroism at all? I cannot promise you that it will be easy, Shallan, but I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," Radiant whispered.

"I'm proud of you," Veil—the part of her that was Veil—agreed.

"Thank you," she said.

"I have to go," Wit said, "but I'll leave you with this. The Ghostbloods want something extremely valuable, and you have the key to it standing with you right now. If you want to destroy them, you might not need to kill every last one of them. Instead, you might just need a powerful leverage over them."

The glowing sphere melted from his face, back to a sphere. "He's gone," the spren said. "I'm sorry."

Wit's final words lingered with Shallan, reinforcing something she'd been considering: a way to protect Roshar from the Ghostbloods. And indeed, she knew what their next target was likely to be. They'd sent her to Lasting Integrity to get intel on one of the Unmade, and the Herald standing with her had the secrets they all wanted to know.

"I need," she said to Kelek, "to know everything you know about Ba-Ado-Mishram.

The Herald wrung his hands and looked to the side, as if seeking to escape.

"We're not going to hurt you," Adolin said calmly. "You know that by now."

"I do," Kelek said. "It's just... I wasn't supposed to be involved. None of us are."

"I don't think the other Heralds follow that," Shallan noted, folding her arms. "What did you do, Kelek?"

"Not much," he said, putting his hand to his head. "I... I can't do much, these days. I don't know why. I can't decide. I..." He looked up at them and then formed fists, pulling them close up to his chest. "I was at Urithiru when the plan to capture Mishram was conceived. Then I joined them on their mission. I guess I'm the only one alive who actually knows what happened to her. It's why the Ghostbloods and their cursed Lord of Scars want me."

"Just tell us," Shallan said.

"Some of us learned you could capture spren inside gemstones," he explained. "Mishram, for all her power, was a spren. The Radiants prepared a flawless heliodor, the color of sunlight, and they trapped her inside, and then they hid her prison. Not in the Physical Realm, and not in Shadesmar." He bit his lip between his teeth, then forced out another part. "In the Spiritual Realm. Melishi hid it there."

"How?" Shallan asked, sharing a look with Adolin."

"I don't know," Kelek said, backing away. "I don't know. But now... now they'll send more people for me, won't they? They'll trap me in a gemstone; or they think they'll be able to." He looked to the two of them, wide-eyed, and fled toward the way down. None of them gave chase. This was, unforunately, usual behavior for Kelek.

Maya grunted softly, watching him go. "He's gotten a lot worse," she said.

Shallan started. "You knew him?"

"Met him a few times," Maya said, then took a deep breath. "Never... never thought much of him, even then."

"Well," Shallan said, "we know something more about Mishram, at least. Her prison is part of what Mraize has been hunting for a long time now, I suspect. I might need to find it first, before he can do so."

"Ba-Ado-Mishram," Adolin said, thoughtful, leaning back against the wall's battlements. "The most powerful of the Unmade. What would the Ghostbloods want with her, though?"

"Mmm," Pattern said. "Power. So much power. She was nearly a god. She bonded the singers, once. Could Mraize be wanting to do something similar?"

Shallan shivered, considering and thinking of Mraize and his master Iyatil, somehow commanding the entirety of the enemy army. Was that possible? "Whatever the reason," Shallan said, "I have to stop him."

"Her prison is in the Spiritual Realm, though?" Adolin said, frowning. "What does that even mean?"

"Mmm," Pattern said, "means we will never be able to find it."

"Surely it's possible," Shallan said. "The ancient Radiants put it there; we should be able to take it out."

"You don't understand," Pattern said, holding hands apart and gesturing in his way. "You think Shadesmar is odd, yes? Black sky, little sun, Pattern with arms and legs for perambulating." His head spun a little faster. "The Spiritual Realm is stranger by orders of magnitude. It is a place where the future blends with the present. The past echoes, like the striking of a clock. Time and distance stretch, like numbers, infinitely repeating. It is where gods live, and even baffles some of them."

Shallan took that in, then glanced at Testament, huddled in the shadow of the wall further back along the walk. "Our best guess," she said, "is that the deadeyes were created because Mishram was imprisoned, right?"

"Agreed," Pattern said. "Mishram became like a god to the singers, the parshmen. She connected to Roshar, and echoes of that filtered to the spren. Ah, so wonderfully odd. Her imprisonment is the reason broken bonds now have such an effect on the spren."

"It's because," Maya said, "humans have no Honor. The god, I mean... I heard that... that Mishram had been captured. I heard that... the Radiants would destroy the world. That is why I decided.... decided it was done." She shook her head. "I don't know it all. I'd... like to. Considering the breaking... what the breaking... breaking the bond did to me..."

That day, the day Mishram had been captured, something deeper had happened, an event connecting humankind, Honor, spren, and the bonds. "We need to figure out how Mishram or her prison has power over bonds," Shallan said, looking to Pattern. "We need to go into the Spiritual Realm and find that prison, however difficult it is."

His pattern slowed, then finally he laced his fingers together. "Very well. Though, you know what I said when I said I was sure you wouldn't get me killed?"

"Yes."

"I should like," he declared, "to make a retraction.

 

Chapter Shallan Two

It was nice for Shallan to take a few hours to think, for once. Sitting, wearing a bright blue havah, rather than her traveling clothing, settled at the top row of the stone, open-air forum within Lasting Integrity, drawing. How long had it been since she'd simply let herself draw? She'd sketched a little during her trip, but that felt like an eternity ago.

She relaxed, flowing with the drawing, a depiction of the vertigo she felt looking up along the inside walls of Lasting Integrity. A surreal painting, like something from one of the older art movements, where perspective was intentionally alien and off-putting. She liked to think that the old surrealists had made contact with spren in Shadesmar, warping their minds to new ways of seeing things. Though she'd never been quite as good with landscapes as she was with people, she was proud of the sense her sketch gave of falling. Yet into what? You could not see, because the unnatural perspective held your eyes upward.

Like others she'd done today, a strange face kept sneaking into the art. In this case, she'd absently warped the shadings of one wall into that face. Feminine, a singer with angular carapace and shadows and curves forming a strata-like design on her face. Shallan flipped through her sketchbook. Each drawing done today had that singer face hidden somewhere, and she didn't remember making them. She'd done something similar at Urithiru, where the presence of an Unmade had warped her sketches. She tried not to let it disturb her quite so much, this time. Then, it had been a message. Was there a similar one, now?

She looked toward Adolin, who paced at the center of the forum, a place where just a few days before he'd been on trial. Today, he'd been joined by Godeke, a lanky Edgedancer. Shallan's agents had joined them, as well—Ishnah, Vathah, and Beryl—along with their cryptics. Together, they waited for the Windrunners, and for the fruits of some final efforts in Lasting Integrity. She started another sketch as they waited.

In the end, twelve arrived. Twelve honorspren, from a population of hundreds. That was how many showed up in response to Adolin's call to arms. He and Godeke greeted each one with a smile, but she knew he'd expected more.

One other did arrive. Notum, the former sea captain, still had his unique facial hair, though he walked on unsteady feet. They still didn't know why he'd been assaulted by those Tukari that Adolin had saved him from. Notum didn't join Godeke and Adolin, but instead walked down the steps to join Shallan. "Radiant Kholin?" he said.

That was still odd to hear, even a year after the wedding. It hadn't been assumed that she would take Adolin's name. Among the Alethi lighteyes, either party was equally likely to keep their name as adopt a new one. In her case, she was needed in the Kholin line of succession. She doubted she'd take a throne that Adolin had turned down, but Dalinar wanted people he trusted in line. Her adoption in the Kholin house would strengthen their claim, should it come to that. In explaining this to her, Dalinar and Navani had been speaking pragmatically. But Shallan knew she'd remember that day differently. For her, it was the day when a set of parents had, for the first time, wanted her.

Notum settled down beside her. "Your mission was a success. Twelve new Radiants."

"We expected more, though," Radiant said, emerging. "After the support Adolin got at the trial, I anticipated an excellent recruitment effort."

"A good number of the honorspren support him," Notum said, "but that doesn't mean they want to be bonded. One can be irate at the honorspren leadership and think humans are deserving of support without wanting to take that step."

Down below the twelve honorspren started to fade. "I've never seen this before," Notum added. "I thought they'd go in a blink. Instead, they fade away to nothing."

"Not nothing," Radiant said. "They'll appear on the other side."

"I hear it's traumatic," Notum said. He had a stiff, formal way of speaking, even when the words were casual, clipping each word as if he were making an announcement from the quarterdeck of a ship. "Spren on the other side forget themselves."

"Only briefly," Radiant said. "These will probably stay in a group, which helps, and immediately make their way to Urithiru, drawn by the squires training there."

"Do you even need them now, though?" Notum asked. "Isn't the war soon to end?"

"Windrunners are our primary method of traveling long distances, and I suspect they'll be helpful in peacetime. Beyond that, even if Dalinar wins the contest, I worry about what is to come next. I think, the more Radiants we have, the more stable our position will be."

"Then I should hurry," Notum said, standing. "To join them. So that I'm not left alone."

Radiant approved, but Shallan... she noticed something. "You sound reluctant," Shallan said.

He looked at her, glowing the same soft blue of all the honorspren. His uniform, his hair, everything about him was made of the same soft light. Solid, not transparent, but also not quite real in the way she understood reality. "There's nothing more for me here," Notum said. "I've been rejected of mine and seen their pettiness. I should like to be of service. Though, I admit, I do not wish to bond a human. I loathe the idea. Is that petty of me, in turn?"

"Absolutely not," Shallan said. "I have two bonds, Notum, and understand the cost better than most. It's not pettiness or even cowardness to be hesitant. Just like it's not cowardly or petty to reject any relationship."

"Pardon," Notum said, "but other sorts of relationships don't lead to soldiers with remarkable powers."

That did, admittedly, complicate the matter. But after learning what she'd done to Testament, who sat with Pattern a few rows down, Shallan couldn't help but question their mission itself. They needed Windrunners, yes; but it made her increasingly uncomfortable to demand that a spren bond. It wasn't intimate in the traditional human sense of the word, but it felt as deeply personal. "We can use every Windrunner, yes," she said, "but I don't think you should force yourself to bond a human if that makes you uncomfortable. You can be a good person and say no, Notum. I've learned that."

"Perhaps," Notum said. "Perhaps I will stay a little longer here, then. With effort, I might persuade others of my kind to offer you support." He pointed and drew her attention to a group of honorspren walking past wearing traveling clothing and carrying gear, as if to leave on a long hike. They waved to Shallan and Adolin but did not join those fading away.

"Objectors?" Shallan asked as Adolin waved back to them. "Those you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes. They don't agree with how you were treated but also don't want to go to war. They leave Lasting Integrity to make their own way."

She nodded. "Well, Radiant Godeke is staying to continue to normalize relations with the honorspren, and I might leave one of my agents, as well. If you stay, that would help. They could use a solid ally here."

"I am your ally," he said, "but as I warned you, the honorspren leadership does not care for me, even if they have been forced to revoke my exile." His expression grew distant. "We have an entire navy that once sailed the bead ocean. It is a shame to see those boats abandoned in the shipyards. It gives the enemy full control of Shadesmar's seas. Perhaps I could sail under honorspren authority again."

Storms. If Shallan hadn't said anything, Notum might have actually gone to become a Radiant spren. Meaning she'd just actively gone against their orders in coming here. Perhaps she wouldn't mention that part in her report to Dalinar.

No other spren came. Lucintia, the spren who had been Shallan's guide since her arrival at Lasting Integrity, made no appearance. Shallan had hoped she would change her mind, despite their occasional clashes.

"Notum" Shallan said, "thank you. For how you stood up for us during the trial."

"I am one person stretched thin, Radiant Kholin," he said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "Like colors on the mast, which have waved too long in the wind. I don't know what I believe or trust any longer. But what was done to you was not right. I could not play the sham role they demanded of me. I ask your forgiveness for even considering it."

"It was natural to want your old life back, Notum."

He turned to her, blue eyes meeting hers. "I lay on the ground, battered and assaulted, and watched your husband rise in my defense against overwhelming odds. He saved me with no expectation of reward. In that moment, I knew that Honor lived." He nodded curtly to Shallan, then walked down the steps to talk with Adolin.

Shallan slowly turned back to her sketch, where she soon found that she'd drawn yet another face in Adolin's shadow. Storms. Don't be unnerved, she thought. You were upset when you drew Pattern for the first time back in Kharbranth. But look how that turned out. She would not be afraid of her own art. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to flip to the next sheet and start drawing again, until someone else settled down beside her. Kelek leaned forward, hands clasped, seeming small and fragile.

"I'm not going with you," he said softly. "I... I can't."

"It's not safe for you here," Shallan said, sketching, fingers moving as if of their own accord. "If I got to you, Mraize's other assassins can do so."

"I... I will hide. Better. But I can't leave the seon, and she can't travel right now. It wouldn't be good for her."

Shallan didn't argue. It never seemed to work with Kelek. Instead, she lost herself in a sketch of him. A Herald to add to her collection. She might have said this was the rarest of gems to obtain, but was a Herald actually rarer than anyone else? One might say, because of their immortality, they were less so.

"We are broken, Shallan," Kelek finally said. "We are not the heroes you wish us to be. Not any more."

"I know how that feels."

"I don't think you do," he said, wrapping his arms around himself. "I don't believe anyone does." He looked to Adolin, chatting with Notum and Godeke. "You're really going to try to find Mishram?"

"If I don't," Shallan said, "my enemies will."

"Then what?" he said. "Will you release her? I... I cannot decide. Always cannot decide. I have preached for her freedom in the past, but now I worry. She might join and strengthen Odium. She hates humans." He put his hand to his head. "Ishar says all the Unmade should be contained. Yet what we did to the singers by imprisoning her..."

"I'll worry about that when we find her gemstone," Shallan said. "Honestly, I'll probably bring it back to the Bondsmiths and let everyone decide together."

He didn't decide to respond, so she continued drawing. The familiar sound of charcoal pencil on paper, the distilled attention of creation, like the most potent of alcohol. She attracted a few creationspren, like little swirling lights. These ones, though, behaved oddly. In here, she'd never seen them change shape like they did in the Physical Realm, but these started adopting the look of her pencil and eraser.

She kept drawing, lines imitating life, freeing it, but altering at the same time. You could never make an exact copy; that wasn't the point. Every sketch was a picture of the artist, as well. Their perspective, their emphasis, their instinct, reclaiming a moment otherwise lost. Once you got to the end, it was sublime. The moment when you basked in the thing you'd created. The feeling of awe mixed with disbelief that this beautiful object had come from you, accompanied by the slightest worry that, because if you didn't understand how you did it, you maybe didn't deserve to have been part of the creation. She loved the feeling, even the uncertainty of it.

"Radiant," Kelek said, hands clasped as he stared down at the stone floor of the amphitheater, "what do you fear?"

What kind of question was that? "I don't know," she lied.

"I fear options," he said. "I see every choice I make, and I see the terrible results that could stem from them. If I stay here, I see you fail without me. If I go, I see my presence—broken as I am—cause your failure. I cannot continue. I do not..."

She rested her hand on his, then handed him the sketch. He took the picture, frowning, then his hands widened as he saw it depicting him standing tall, wearing robes and striding from a fanciful city with colorful walls and strange trees with long fronds she'd made up. He carried a staff with an odd shape at the top and strode toward the growing light on the horizon. Though, in the picture, he looked backward, and his face was determined. Decisive.

"Do you often do this?" he asked.

"Sketch people?" she said, then blushed. "Yes, I kind of do it all the time. When I'm feeling like myself, at least."

"Not simply sketching, child. Do you often draw upon Fortune? Glimpse someone's possible selves, then pull one forth? Touch, in some way, what could have been? What might still be?" He glanced at her and must have seen the utter confusion in her eyes as he sighed. "Is this a skill commonly employed by Lightweavers during your time?"

"Not that I know of," she said. "But I don't exactly understand what you're saying."

He glanced toward Pattern and Testament. "Two spren... Of course, you've bonded two. Strange things happen when a Nahel bond is imbricated. There were rules against it once, I believe. How long have you had them both?

"For some time" she said. "Though I didn't know it. I didn't remember it until just recently."

"And how often," he asked, holding up the sheet, "do you glimpse into the Spiritual Realm, then manifest it in your art?"

"I..." She thought back to pictures she'd done, like one found in the pocket of a dead man. Like sketches of the Unmade lurking in Urithiru, or faces turning up in her art without her intending to draw them. She began to feel like a fool for objecting so quickly to someone who obviously knew far more about these things than she did. "It might happen now and then," she said. "There was an Unmade at Urithiru, and it showed up in my art. Now, these faces." She turned one toward him.

He nodded. "Because you've been thinking about traveling to the Spiritual Realm and finding Ba-Ado-Mishram."

"That's her?"

"One interpretation of her, yes," he said. "If you were someone else, I would assume you had seen some ancient art and were unconsciously influenced by it. For you..." He shrugged. "Fortune can do unthought, <phantotic> things."

"I'm sorry? '<Phantotic>'?"

"It means 'unnerving,'" he said. "I'm sorry. I don't keep up on shifts in language, nor am an expert on Fortune. Best speak to Midius, your Wit, about that. A <phantotic> man himself, that one."