#(chasm flashback)
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Me thinking about shallan davar and her relationship with her dad
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#ME!#the stormlight archive#ITS BEEN A NIGHT FOLKS#KALADIN AND SHALLAN ENTERED AND EMERGED FROM THE CHASMS. SHALLAN KILLED HER DAD#ALL OF THE THINGS I HAD BEEN NOTICING IN SHALLAN'S FLASHBACKS THAT HAD BEEN NIGGLING AWAY AT MY SANITY FINALLY STOLE IT FROM ME#AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH#oh and lets not forget how iconic the announcement of shallan and kaladin making it back to camp was#a messenger runs up and fucking cuts off amaram and is all breathless and just 'THE PLATEAU' and dalinar just sighs and is like 'fucking#sadeas again. man i hate that man' and the messenger is just all 'no sir. he came /out/ of the chasms' AND WE KNOW WHO IT IS AND WERE#FUCKING CHEERING but dalinar doesnt know know. but that man Suspects. you know he does. so he 'looks sharply towards her' and goes 'who?'#'Stormblessed.' AND IM SCREAMING YOURE SCREAMING EVERYONES FUCKING SCREAMING. WE ALL KNEW IT AND YET HERE WE ARE LOSONG OUR MINDS BC THAT#DELIVERY UGH PERFECTION. and then dalinar man that he is embodies all of us after the page break bc the next sentence is 'Dalinar ran the#entire way.' WHICH OF COURSE HE FUCKING DID. FUCK YEAH. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH#words of radiance book of all time#shallan davar character of all time#SO SO SO SO GOOOOOOOOD#AND ONLY GOOD THINGS TO COME#why do i remember kaladin swearing all the oaths again and again and again as hes saving elhokar's life?? bc Iconic of him if true#Cannot wait to lose even more of my mind to this book
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Me: oh wow, i unlocked this archon quest called "Yaksha's Wish," lemme do it for a quick moment *doing the Nameless Yaksha quest without really thinking much of it*
Me at the end:
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#nameless yaksha#yaksha's wish#genshin Xiao#genshin impact#world quests#i came here for a good time so why am i crying tears of sorrow#my worst fear in life is being stuck inna cave#the first time i watching the Descent i could not sleep for weeks#so being stuck in the chasm was juat giving me flashbacks of that movie lmaooo#and the plot was so effin sad and painful like#i cant think of a worse way to go than being stuck deep inside a supernatural cave with no hope of getting out#the treveler and everyone is lucky they got each other as party members#cuz had it been me i would have lost my shit way early in the quest lmao
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HAJZBSJXBSUZHAJS I PULLED HEIZOU ON MY ALT ACC.
#BRUUUUY HES LIKE#THAT ONE CHATACTER IVE WANTED#on my main#AUUUUUGGHHH#i was also like oh no in still at the prologue in this account how the heck will I ascend him so I can use him if his mats are in inazuma#idk where the aeons come from#But im traumatized that I need like the thing from ruin serpent#(chasm flashback)#and that I need treasure hoarders#i mean thats okay. better than the handguards#But u tellin me i hafta farm for onikabuto#someone tell me how to glitch to inazuma#oh the horror to remember that I have to do the world quests to get rid of the storms#and the places than kills you because they too electronic#BRUUUUUUUH#nightmare. what a nightmare
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NEW YEAR'S BABY | s.reid x reader
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summary: in which you use new year's countdown to tell spencer exciting news. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 991 a/n: night, night! we can count this as the "first" part of my dad!spencer universe!! i had fun writing this one and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!
The lights in the apartment were soft, casting a golden glow that reflected off the champagne glasses on the coffee table. The music in the background was lively, drowned out by the laughter and chatter of the BAU members and their families gathered to celebrate the end of the year. You were standing by the window, watching the city light up outside, with the sound of sporadic fireworks beginning to fill the air.
The room was full of murmurs and laughter, but your attention was completely focused on him. Spencer was sitting in an armchair next to the bookcase, his fingers adjusting the strands of hair that stubbornly fell over his face while his eyes scrolled down the page of a book he had picked up earlier. It was at moments like that that you loved watching him - he seemed so absorbed in the story, so characteristically himself.
The year had been anything but easy. Memories of old cases and personal moments unfolded in his mind like a movie, bringing flashbacks of challenges, and tears, but also of small miracles. You had leaned on each other in ways you hadn't thought possible before. And the news that changed everything came in the last minutes of the second half as you lovingly joked with your doctor.
You instinctively put your hand to your still flat belly, almost in a protective gesture. The idea of a new beginning for the two of you, or rather the three of you, seemed both exciting and frightening. You had been planning this moment for weeks, but now, seeing you there, the golden light of the lamp softening your features, it seemed more than perfect.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked suddenly, leaning slightly under your side, the concern evident in his eyes. You didn't even notice when he got up from his chair and approached you.
You smiled, almost laughing at how he always seemed to know when something was on your mind. “I am. I was just… thinking about how different this year has been.”
He moved a lock of your hair carefully behind your ear, his attention now entirely on you. “It was. But I think we ended better than we started, don't you?”
You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “Yes. And I think next year is going to be even more special.”
Spencer smiled, slightly confused by your words, but before he could ask, the sound of voices in the background began to increase. The countdown was about to begin. You felt your heart racing. It was almost time to tell him.
The room fell silent for a brief moment before everyone started shouting together:
“10!”
Your heart raced, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety coursing through your body. You moved even closer to Spencer, getting so close that you could feel the warmth of his presence, but the nervousness made it seem like there was a chasm between the two of you.
“9!”
You looked at him. Spencer had a discreet smile on his face as he observed his friends and the joy around him. He seemed so calm, so oblivious to the turmoil inside you and the news that was to come.
“8!”
You took a deep breath, trying to calm your heart, which seemed about to explode — and was failing miserably. Your mind was racing in circles. Is this the right time? Will he be happy? What if I ruin our whole relationship?
“7!”
He turned his face towards you, his brown eyes meeting yours. “You look nervous.” he commented softly, leaning in to be heard.
“6!”
“Maybe I am a little.” you admitted, trying to smile, but your voice came out shakier than you expected.
“5!”
Spencer frowned slightly, clearly worried, but before he could say anything else, you grabbed his hand.
“4!”
He looked at your intertwined hands, then turned his attention back to you, his lips curving into a small smile, as if to say that he was there for anything.
“3!”
You knew there was no turning back. The words were on the tip of your tongue, your heart beating so fast that it seemed to mark every remaining second.
“2!”
You leaned closer to him, the noise around you dissolving as everything seemed to dwindle to that moment between the two of you.
“1!”
With a hesitant smile and eyes full of tears you couldn't hold back, you whispered: “I'm pregnant!”
Spencer blinked once, twice, even three times, as if he needed a moment more to process what you had just said. You watched every detail: the way his eyes widened slightly, the way he moistened his lips before opening his mouth, but without being able to say anything right away.
The sound of the fireworks outside exploded in a spectacle of colors, and the shouts of “Happy New Year!” echoed around the room. But in the space between you, there was only silence.
Then, slowly, the corners of your mouth began to curve upwards, and a genuine smile, so pure and full of emotion, took over your face. His eyes sparkled as if they were reflecting the lights of the fireworks, but you knew it was something more.
He returned a low, almost incredulous laugh, before shaking his head as if still trying to believe it. “That's incredible!” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion. He took a step forward, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours, holding them carefully. “The best start to the year I could have imagined.”
The lump in your throat finally broke, and you felt the tears run down your cheeks as you smiled at him. Spencer pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face between your neck and shoulder as if he wanted to record that moment forever.
“I love you.” he whispered, and in that instant, as the world celebrated the new year around you, you knew you had made the perfect choice.
#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fic#criminal minds imagine
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Vaggie's Design
This is both an appreciation post and an analysis of Vaggie's design! It will combine ideas from other metas and will try to show that not only are Vaggie's looks gorgeous, but also telling of the kind of person she is.
A FLUTTERING MOTH
As many other Hellaverse characters, Vaggie has an animal motif. Specifically, her hair resembles folded moth wings. Even her bow is loosely butterfly-shaped, in a subtle allusion to these insects:
Why is that so? Vaggie's link with moths has a double meaning:
1-Moths are attracted to light. In fact, one hypothesis is that they use bright celestial lights (like the moon) to navigate. Well, our angelic moth has found the brightest star of all. The morningstar to be precise:
Charlie inspires and guides Vaggie with her idealism, hope and kindness. Vaggie is lost, but through Charlie she finds a new path.
2- Moths are associated with the cycle of death and rebirth (just like butterflies). They start their lives as caterpillars, enter cocoons and come out as moths. Not only that, but many moth caterpillars go through their transformations in holes dug in the ground. This is exactly what happens to Vaggie:
She is robbed of her wings and abandoned in Hell, the deepest chasm on Earth. There she heals and grows stronger, until she gains new wings:
Interestingly, these two aspects of Vaggie's story can be found in her design, as well. In fact:
Vaggie's looks are complementary to Charlie's, as a symbol of their strong bond
Vaggie has (obviously) some angelic imagery, which comments her metamorphosis
Let's explore these two visual motifs!
CHARLIE'S PARTNER
Just like moths, Vaggie is linked to night, shadow, moon and the color silver.
Charlie is instead associated to day (she is the morning-star), light, rainbows and the color gold.
The complementarity of their color-palette is even in their respective eyes:
Vaggie has red sclera and golden irisis
Charlie has yellow sclera and red pupils
The girls' interconnected aesthetic mirrors their internal compatibility, highlighted also by their body-shapes and styles. As a matter of fact Vaggie and Charlie are opposites body-wise. Vaggie is short, while Charlie is tall. Vaggie's design has mostly angular shapes, whereas Charlie’s uses softer lines. However, Vaggie's clothes are more loose and comfortable, in juxtaposition to Charlie's which are stricter and business-like. As this analysis suggests, that is because of the two partners' different personalities:
Charlie is kind and sweet, but wants more respect and needs to grow tougher
Vaggie is harsh and distrustful, but wants to be a good person and needs to show her sensitivity more
So, both girls choose the kind of clothes closest to who they want to become:
Charlie wears androgynous tuxedos to appear masculine and self-assured. She wants to be respected as an inspiring and competent leader. So, she chooses power-suits to look professional.
Vaggie instead usually sports a short skirt and loose long hair to appear feminine. Why is she so intrigued with femininity? The answer lies in her past as an exorcist.
THE FALLEN EXORCIST
Exorcists all wear the same gray and black uniform, which resembles pigeon's plumage. Vaggie used to be the same:
Not only that, but Vaggie's hair in the flashback is similar to Lute's:
Both girls have their hair short in a masculine and practical attire. In general, their outfits are functional, but anonymous and their faces are hidden behind masks. That’s because they are not allowed to be people, but are prisoners of a repressive cult led by Adam. The First Man teaches them to hate and kill, so their sense of self gets intertwined with strength and violence. They are trapped in toxic masculinity.
So, the moment Vaggie is freed, she starts expressing her most feminine side. This happens both aesthetically and psychologically. On the one hand she dresses like a girly girl. On the other hand she starts working on her own interiority. Vaggie is superficially masculine, as she is a good fighter and aggressive. However, she has many feminine traits hidden within her. For example, she is very emotionally intelligent and emphatic, even if she masks these qualities with her brash persona. So, her choice of clothing metaphorically represents a deeper transformation she is undergoing.
At the same time, this restyling is an attempt to leave her past self behind. In fact, Vaggie hates who she was:
Vaggie: Those angels' minds are hard to change They're bloodthirsty and deranged!
And wants to become someone new:
Vaggie: When I saw your face You made me feel like a stranger in a brand new place And it felt so good to be understood But there's so much I wished that I could say So I, I'll be your armor Do whatever it takes, I'll make the mistakes I'll spend my life being your partner
Her exorcist side, though, is still there and comes to the surface in the way she looks. Let's consider the X over her eye, for example:
Vaggie: Wait… you know I'm an exorcist? How? Carmilla: You have a giant X over your eye and wield an angelic spear. It's not rocket science.
Vaggie's current appearance both negates and alludes to her angelic nature. Her hair is a great example of this.
Vaggie changes her hair and lets it grow. In this way she reaches two goals. She embraces her femininity and hides both the scar on her eye and her missing wings. It is a way to start anew and to cover up her vulnerability.
Vaggie's hair resembles her angelic wings, both in shape and in color. It even has the two darker stripes typical of exorcists. Moreover, the locks over her eye is similar to a wing. It is a call back to her past self.
So, Vaggie's hair is both a camouflage and a hint of the truth. Both something new and a link to the past. Why is there such a contradiction?
That's because Vaggie needs to accept who she was in order to grow into who she wants to be. A moth starts as a larva before she can gain wings of her own. The same goes for our rebellious angel.
In order to protect her newfound loved ones, she needs to hone her past abilities. In order to redeem herself, she needs to forgive herself and to come to terms with her angelic nature:
Vaggie: It's not her fault. Angels are just-- Angel Dust: Liars? Vaggie: ���Difficult.
It is only through this reconciliation that she can complete her beautiful metamorphosis. This process is shown through her wings:
As an exorcist, Vaggie's wings are black and white like her sisters', but she only has one black stripe, while the others have two. This shows how Vaggie is able to resist Adam's brainwashing to an extent. Her leader exhibits two lines, but Vaggie dares to only have one. This makes her different and not perfectly fitting. In particular, the black and white vision she was conditioned to believe is not fully rooted into her. She can still empathize with a sinner.
As a fallen angel, Vaggie's wings are silver because she is starting to reconcile her different parts. She is integrating her past as an exorcist with her present as a demon. She is realizing the world isn't black and white, but gray. Just like she is. At the same time, she still has her darker stripe. It is just that now it has a much lighter shade, which is similar to the one in her hair. She is slowly growing into herself.
This development shows fully in Vaggie's looks in the Finale.
VAGGIE'S BATTLE OUTFIT
Vaggie's battle outfit is a synthesis of her development in season 1, so it is meaningful on all the three levels addressed in this analysis:
Vaggie's complementarity with Charlie
The integration of masculine and feminine
The reconciliation of past and present self
1- During the final battle Vaggie keeps being complementary to Charlie:
The princess of Hell wears a mini-dress with a heart decoration and wields a shield. Moreover she unties her usually braided hair to enter her demonic form. Finally, her color scheme is red and black with golden weapons.
The fallen exorcist fully covers her body with a practical attire and fights with her signature spear. Moreover, she keeps her hair tied, so that her angelic wings can come out more easily. Finally, her color scheme is blue and white with a silver weapon.
2- Vaggie usually appears feminine, but she chooses a more masculine outfit to fight. Her clothes are simple and easy to move in. She even ties her hair, so it won't get in the way. In short, she appears much more androgynous than she usually does. Despite this, she still retains some girly elements, like the red/pink decorations and her signature bow. She is a mix of girlish (pink) and boyish (blue).
3- Vaggie's looks put together elements of both her demon and angel self.
On the one hand several people have noticed similarities between Vaggie's battle uniform and Carmilla's appearance. Specifically, Carmilla has an X motif going on in her design, just like Vaggie:
Moreover, she tells Vaggie to "harness her heart" and in the final fight Vaggie puts a giant "harness" over her chest.
On the other hand it is obvious Vaggie's outfit is a deliberate call back to the exorcists' uniform. Vaggie's boots, gloves and overall silhouette are similar to Lute's:
And she exhibits a giant white X, which makes the reference crystal clear.
Vaggie both harnesses her heart and wears her past on it. She doesn't need to hide her exorcist self anymore:
Vaggie: I mean, personally, I'm excited. It's been a while since I stabbed anyone and really meant it, you know what I mean?
But this is precisely why she is free to change:
Lute: Do it, then. Correct your mistake. Vaggie: Seriously, you're pathetic, you know that? Ready to die rather than accepting mercy? No, live. Live, knowing that you only do because I let you. A failure.
Vaggie's choice to spare Lute is the pinnacle of her character arc up until now:
She chooses to embrace Charlie's ideology over Adam and Lute's (there was no mistake to correct)
She expresses values, which are traditionally feminine (she has mercy)
She lets Lute live, which is metaphorically Vaggie sparing her past self
She doesn't kill Lute because she is strong enough to forgive herself and live on. Her empathy and mercy are not flaws to correct, but traits to embrace. Finally, she has now someone she is free to fly to and that accepts her for who she truly is.
WHAT DOES "X" STAND FOR?
There is still a detail in Vaggie's design to discuss: her "X-eye".
Vaggie's X eye starts as a joke. In the pilot both it and Vaggie's tits are barred because she lacks both:
Angel Dust: Did you ever think maybe she's sensitive about her lack of wings, just like her lack of tits?
However, in the series it becomes a hint to her background as an exorcist:
Exorcists have an X over their eyes because their vision is heavily biased and simplistic. They can't see clearly, but understand the world in black and white:
'Cause the rules are black and white There's no use in tryin' to fight it They're burnin' for their lives Until we kill 'em again!
Still, why does Vaggie truly lose an eye? There are two thematic reasons.
1- Vaggie's loss alludes to the saying "an eye for an eye", which can be completed in two opposite ways:
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" - Or in this case, an eye for an arm, as Lute cuts off her left one to free herself. This phrase is associated with revenge, which Vaggie deep down desires:
I know you'rе thirstin' for vengeance, Vaggie You're out for blood
"An eye for an eye makes the world blind" - This phrase means that if you answer violence with violence the end result will be bad for everybody. This is Charlie's belief:
Sir Pentious: Who could forgive a dirtbag like me? I don't deserve your amnesty Angel Dust and Vaggie: Can't we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood? Charlie: That's an… option you could choose Angel Dust and Vaggie: Works for us! Charlie: But, who hasn't been in his shoes? It starts with sorry!
In season 1's climax Vaggie has to choose where she stands, as she defeats Lute and tops over her. Her answer is to give up hate and to choose love:
You're gonna fight without gloves And when that push comes to shove Yeah, you just might rise above Long as you're out for love
2- Losing an eye is often symbolic of gaining knowledge. This stems from Odin's legend, where the god trades his eye (outside knowledge) for infinite wisdom (inner knowledge).
In a sense, Vaggie does the same. She trades her left eye for a deeper knowledge of good and evil. Her sisters might see better, as they have both eyes. However, Vaggie develops a clearer understanding of the world. Not only that, but she is even given a very special apple to do so. Charlie is Vaggie's very own Fruit of Knowledge. It is not by chance that the Princess of Hell's first action after meeting Vaggie is to bandage the fallen angel's missing eye:
An eye and a halo for knowledge and love.
THE FUTURE
Vaggie's design is deep down all about:
Her bond with Charlie, their complementarity and their parallel integration of masculine and feminine traits
Her journey of death and rebirth, where she heals and forgives, so that she can bloom into her real self
So, I am expecting her future outfits and physical changes to mirror these two aspects of her story. Who knows? Maybe she will even gain some new visual motifs. Here are three examples:
1- Vaggie's design is loosely inspired by Zoophobia Lollygag:
This character has a pirate motif and interestingly Vaggie is seen dancing on a ship in season 1:
Will the ship and Vaggie's pirate influence get some more exploration later on? Could the ship become somehow symbolic of Charlie and Vaggie's relationship? So, of Chaggie as a ship?
2- Vaggie has a dancer motif already, as her fighting practice with Carmilla is nothing, but a dancing lesson:
Vaggie is supposed to learn how to express herself more and dance is set up to become her preferred language to do so. So, maybe this will influence her appearance, as well.
3- Finally, I am curious to see if Vaggie will end up getting a full demon form, similar to Lucifer's:
After all, Vaggie and Lucifer are strong parallels and share some similarities design-wise, as TV Tropes highlights:
They are both very short, but stronger than what they seem
They have retractable wings. Not only that, but their wings mark them as different from other angels. Vaggie's have one single line instead of two, whereas Lucifer's are red instead of blue/light blue
Both of their hairstyle resembles their respective animal motif. Vaggie's hair is similar to a moth, whereas Lucifer sports a ducktail cut. Moreover, both have a head accessory, which is animal-shaped. Vaggie's bow is meant to look like a moth, while Lucifer's hat has a golden snake on it.
So, it is possible Vaggie too will end up transforming herself into a form, which combines her angelic and demonic traits more. This might happen as Charlie instead starts exhibiting more angelic traits inherited from Lucifer. In any case, Vaggie and Lucifer's similar head accessory is especially interesting to me. After all, Lucifer's golden snake turns into a fake halo when he transforms. So, will we see Vaggie gain a bright pink halo made of her signature bow? If so, I am looking forward to it!
#hazbin hotel#vaggie hazbin hotel#vaggie#hazbin hotel meta#my meta#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel lute#lute hazbin
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The Married Life (Blake)
Blake: mother what are you doing here my husband almost home
Kali: what’s the matter kitten would I be interrupting some alone time with your husband
Blake: (deadpan) yes, yes you would be
Kali: oh my goodness, I’d love to see that
Blake: MOM!!!?!?
Kali: oh and to think you’re my daughter
Blake:???
Kali: picture it. You, me, the tall blond hunk. I know it’s been a while for me
Blake:😳😳😳🤤🤤🤤
She shake her head clear of those thoughts
Blake: mother I-
The door opens
Jaune: Blake honey I’m home, oh Kali your here
Kali: oh jaune just call me mom, you may be calling me that tonight
Jaune: what
Kali: nothing
Jaune: so Blake when will our friends be here
Blake: well about that
Flashback
Ruby: well well well, if it isn’t the traitor
Blake: oh just because I married to only decent man on remnant I’m a traitor
Yang: not even sharing with your partner, for shame. You know I’d share if it were me
Weiss: thieving cat
Pyrrha is just sharpening her sword
Nora: hey renny’s better than decent
Blake: oh so I should have married him?
Nora: NEVER 😡😡😡😡
Blake: my point
Rwyp: get her
They pounce only to hit the floor due to that Blake being a clone
Suddenly the floor drops sending them into a pit trap
Yang: Blake when could your clones do that
The real Blake looks over the chasm
Blake: since me and jaune found out his semblance
Pyrrha: you 🤬🤬🤬🤬
Nora: renny get the soap
…
Nora: renny, oh right he’s still at home with the baby
Ruby: what is it Blake
Blake: aura amp it gives me a boost and makes my semblance stronger
Yang: so does it make him better in the sheets
Blake just smirks and walks away
The girls shout at the ninja to get back and let them out but it falls on deft ears
Flashback ends
Blake: they called saying they won’t be here until tomorrow
Kali comes up from behind wrapping her arms around him: so it’ll just be the three of us till then💕💕
Blake finally letting herself fall into this shameless kink wraps her arms around his neck: yes the thee of us 😉
Jaune: aura don’t fail me now
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Racing Hearts- Part 4
Pairing : Max x fem!reader/driver
it's fun when two enemies turn into lovers? but what happens when those two lovers are back to being enemies?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
After that race, the following weeks were filled with an icy silence between you and Max. Interviews became a thing of the past as both of you were determined to focus on the championship.
In a flashback, when a persistent reporter dared to ask Max about the incident, his response was dismissive and defensive. "I don't see what the problem is," he retorted with a nonchalant shrug. "If Y/N has an issue, maybe she should focus on learning to race properly."
The nature of his response only fueled the animosity between you and Max, deepening the chasm that had formed.
Weeks passed, and it was the Singapore Grand Prix. The glittering lights of Singapore's nightlife painted the city with a vibrant glow. You took to the club to forget both about the race, and Max.
The club was alive with pulsating music, and you and Lando were in the center of it all, lost in the rhythm of the dance floor. Lando's fluid moves and confident charm made it impossible not to follow his lead. The playful banter between you two created a magnetic energy that seemed to draw everyone in, but little did you know that turmoil was brewing in the shadowy corners of the club.
As the beat intensified, Lando pulled you into a spin, his eyes locked onto yours. "You know, Y/N, dancing with you is almost as exhilarating as a race. Maybe even better," he said with a cheeky grin.
You laughed, enjoying the carefree moment in Lando's company. "Well, maybe you should consider a career change, Lando. Dancing suits you."
Meanwhile, Max watched from the bar, his eyes glued to the scene on the dance floor. His jaw clenched, his fists tightened as he gripped the edge of the counter. Anger simmered beneath the surface, and hurt lingered in the depths of his gaze.
Lando, oblivious to Max's scrutiny, continued to lead you through the dance floor. He spun you again, drawing you in closer. "You know, Y/N, I've always wondered what it's like to dance with the competition," he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.
You smirked, feeling a twinge of guilt but relishing the temporary escape from the complexities of your rivalry with Max. "Well, wonder no more, Lando. Here we are."
The music soared, and as the dance floor embraced the rhythm, Max, overwhelmed with a cocktail of emotions, made a decision. He pushed away from the bar, leaving the club without a word, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.
You and Lando decided to stay back for a little vacation in Singapore.
You won the Grand Prix. As the vacation unfolded, you both decided to embrace the break from the high-stakes world of racing. From quirky cafes to scenic spots, your Instagram stories painted a picture of a budding relationship, fueling the already intense debate among fans.
One afternoon, as the sun dipped below the skyline, you and Lando sat by the waterfront. The city lights reflected in the water, creating a serene ambiance. You took a moment to address the elephant in the room.
"Lando, I need to be clear about something. This vacation, these moments we're sharing, it's about friendship for me," you said, your tone sincere.
Lando nodded a genuine smile on his face. "I get it, Y/N. No pressure. Friends it is."
The understanding between you two laid the foundation for a genuine connection of friendship.
The fans, however, remained divided. Some were thrilled by the seemingly lighter and more carefree dynamic, while others deemed it a strategic move to distract from the racing drama between you and Max.
The next race, the Japanese Grand Prix, was the championship decider. You had waited all your life for this. The efforts of the years, and your parents’ sacrifices, all were waiting to be paid off.
Back at Milton Keynes, you unexpectedly ran into Max. As Max approached, his eyes held a storm of emotions. "We need to talk, Y/N," he said, his voice edged with urgency.
Your response, however, was laced with biting sarcasm. "Oh, do we now? Must be something groundbreaking you want to share, Max."
He sighed, attempting to keep his composure. "This isn't helping us, Y/N. We're teammates, whether you like it or not."
A scoff escaped your lips. "Teammates? Funny way to put it when you're so quick to throw me under the bus."
The corridor echoed with the unresolved tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you and Max. It was a clash of wills, a collision of egos, and neither was willing to yield.
Max, sensing the futility of the moment, tried once more. "We can't keep racing like this. It's affecting the team."
You just scoffed and walked away. The sparks of conflict remained, unresolved and simmering beneath the surface, ready to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Race day in Japan arrived, and the championship decider. The atmosphere was full of excitement as the lights went out. The race was intense, with wheel-to-wheel battles and adrenaline-fueled maneuvers. In a crucial corner, you and Max found yourselves locked. You tried to turn, but it was too fast. It ended in a collision, both of you out of the race, and a red flag waving in the air.
“You never know what you will get to see in Formula 1. This was the race where we would have had our champion. But both contenders are out of the race!”
Entering the garage, Max took your hand, leading you to a private space. The storm in his eyes matched the storm in his heart as he unleashed his frustration.
"You fucker. You cost me my championship!" Max spat, the frustration etched across his face, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the intensity of the moment.
This wasn't the Max you had cooked dinner with. It wasn't the Max who had made you laugh. It certainly wasn't the Max who had seemed to genuinely like you.
"Do you honestly expect an apology? You, of all people, took me out of the race! I could already be a champion right now if it weren't for your reckless move," you retorted, anger flashing in your eyes, matching the fire in Max's gaze.
Max's accusation sliced through the air like a dagger, "This was your plan all along, wasn't it? To use me? And now you are fucking Lando?"
"You're an asshole!" Tears welled up in your eyes, a mix of frustration, hurt, and anger cascading down your cheeks.
"I shouldn't have trusted you," he said in a defeated voice, his accusation hitting you like a punch to the gut.
"If that's how you see me, fine. But brace yourself, Max. In the next race, there won't be any mistakes, and mark my words, that championship trophy will have my name on it," you declared defiantly before storming out of the room.
But he caught up, pulling you into a dark store room.
#max verstappen#f1#lando norris#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen imagine#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#formula 1
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TA claimed that miraculous are not indestructible and that the line in Queen Wasp was an error. However, it's hard to believe it when every occasions where miraculous is destroyed/broken, it was using Cataclysm (The bee in Queen Wasp, the rabbit in Timetagger though only mentioned, and the turtle in Optigami)
While the first two can be seen as situational, as Chat was there to fight the bee and the rabbit was an accident, the turtle raised that doubt, since why would LB go all the way to Chat to Cataclysm it if she can just destroy it herself?
I believe the official story behind the peacock getting broken is that it happened in the below scene, so the show does support the idea that things other than a cataclysm can destroy a miraculous:
[Image description: a scene from Fu's memories taken from the episode Feast. In this memory, we see Fu jumping over a chasm full of lava. Feast is seen falling into that chasm along with the guardian's Grimoire. The episode implies that the butterfly and the peacock also fell into the chasm and we do see the miracle box open with several miraculous flying through the air.]
We're going to ignore the fact that the Grimoire should have burned up in the lava and focus on the miraculous-based lore implication instead.
I don't hate the idea that something like lava can destroy a miraculous since that's not exactly an abundant and easily-accessible resource, but I still wouldn't go that route with the lore because it raises questions like: why did the butterfly survive undamaged? And why was the peacock only minorly damaged and not destroyed? And what kind of things can destroy a miraculous? Is it just lava or are their other things that can do the trick? Or can normal things only damage a miraculous, but only a cataclysm can destroy them? If normal, worldly things can hurt the miraculous, then do they get damaged by the passage of time?
I could keep going, but I think I've made my point. It's just so much better for the lore to be that miraculous are generally indestructible with Plagg's power being the only exception. I genuinely think that was the original lore. My money is that Feast was a retcon as they probably hadn't fully figured out the peacock's backstory prior to season three and it would be far better for the lore to be what it was stated to be in Queen Wasp:
Cat Noir: I bet the Akuma's in her Miraculous. Ladybug: That makes sense, but Miraculous are indestructible. We will need your Cataclysm to release the Akuma.
Quick reminder: Queen Wasp came a full season before Feast, that's why my money is on retcon. I'm not even sure if they'd decided that the peacock was damaged before season two since it's not show to be damaged when we first see it back in Volpina and that is a horribly missed opportunity for quality, subtle foreshadowing (ignoring the whole issue of Plagg somehow not being able to sense that the peacock miraculous is RIGHT THERE and - as far as we know - not tied to a holder):
[Image description: the contents of the secret safe behind Emilie's picture. We see a brochure for Tibet, a picture of Emilie, the fully intact peacock miraculous, and the guardian's Grimoire. Plagg is also in the image as this comes from the scene where he helps Adrien break into the safe.]
Meanwhile the Evolution flashback - and every other peacock moment I could think to check - shows it to clearly be damaged as you would expect:
[Image description: the peacock miraculous sitting in Gabriel's hand, clearly broken]
Admittedly Evolution shows us the back while Volpina shows us the front and it's possible that the damage was somehow only on the back in spite of the whole falling into lava thing. There's also the issue that the miraculous design changes from nine feathers to five, implying that the thing in the safe may not even be the peacock? Idk, it's weird. Everything about the peacock story line feels slapdash up to and including how it got damaged in the first place. I think they did have some general ideas that never changed, but I don't think they'd properly worked them out to the level they should have to avoid inconsistencies.
To be fair, if this was the most inconsistent the lore got, I wouldn't have much to talk about because it's not terrible. The pre-Adrien part of the peacock story is decent enough for TV (which is part of the reason I don't watch much TV, lol).
TV shows have pretty limited writing schedules, so it's not uncommon for more minor errors like this to pop up, especially when the writers have no idea how many seasons they're going to have to write, which makes it hard to tell a story well. The writers often don't have the knowledge or even time needed to polish things to a mirror shine. Remember, almost nothing else in the production line can start until the writing is done, so writing is generally a really small early part of total production time. Just the nature of the beast.
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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 39 Part 3
(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)
Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
Days of Future Past
After they leave Yi City, the gang comes to a proper town where there is a lantern festival going on, or else it's just a town that is really nuts about lanterns.
The juniors go shopping, looking at random trinkets, cell-phone cases, sunglasses, and electric toys that will break as soon as you get them home. Wait, that's my local mall I'm thinking of. But it's the same idea, pretty much.
Judging by the dream catchers hanging up on the right, this particular Ancient-China kiosk is owned by a traveling Ojibwe person.
Sizhui experiences a callback to symbolism from the past as he looks at an array of toy insects.
Jin Ling toy shames him, and Lan Jingyi comes to his defense.
Toys are for every age, people. Even if you outgrow one style of play, there's a lot of ways to enjoy toys, including tucking them in your robe and pulling them out to look at them whenever you have a memory cascade.
When Sizhui was young, he looked at toys with Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian didn't give him the toys, however, because "asking is asking, buying is buying." For Wei Wuxian, there was always a vast chasm between what he wanted and what he could actually have. Lan Wangji, of course, promptly gave A-Yuan toys, including a version of this grass butterfly.
The last time we saw A-Yuan with the butterfly is the last time A-Yuan saw Wei Wuxian. WWX frightened him and he dropped his butterfly, and everything went to shit after that. So I think it's fair to say the butterfly symbolizes some stuff.
(More after the cut!)
Jingyi points out to Sizhui that they have all of this same stuff at home in Gusu, which is what happens in a franchise-based retail economy.
Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian enter the market together, but Wei Wuxian quickly runs ahead, enjoying the energy and the sights. Grown-up Lan Wangji, unlike his younger self, seems perfectly comfortable in this crowded and busy environment.
Lan Wangji pauses at a seller's stall to experience his own callback to the past, as he contemplates a lantern with rabbits on it.
Here the show the show restrains itself and does not show us a flashback to the rabbit lantern of the past. That's ok, though; the first lantern scene is one of the most memorable in the show, so we can just replay it in our heads.
Back then, Wei Wuxian made a special lantern for Lan Wangji, and they released it together. That was the first time we saw Lan Wangji smile, and it's also when Wei Wuxian's pledge of chivalry turned their mutual interest/attraction into something much deeper.
While Lan Wangji and Lan Sizhui are contemplating lost things from the past (sky lanterns, by their nature, are losses, but in a nice way), Wei Wuxian is confronting one of his own losses.
He sees a little kid running to a vendor, and his mind's eye sees A-Yuan.
Lan Wangji sees Wei Wuxian's reaction to the child, and he stops looking at the lantern to watch Wei Wuxian instead.
When Wei Wuxian realizes that the child is not, in fact, A-Yuan, the air goes out of him.
Is it too cruel of me to point out that while Wei Wuxian's heart is breaking from realizing that A-Yuan could not possibly be shopping for toys in this market, the real A-Yuan, Lan Sizhui, actually is shopping for toys in this market?
Wei Wuxian allows himself to feel things, for a moment--and when he turns around and sees Lan Wangji watching him, he doesn't immediately paste a fake smile onto his face, which is some kind of relationship growth.
Lan Wangji takes this opportunity to say "hey, Wei Ying, I forgot to mention that A-Yuan isn't dead."
Ha ha ha ha ha of course he doesn't say that. He's waiting for the right moment to share this information, and Lan Wangji has no idea what constitutes a right moment for verbalizing anything. If he can't use his sword to communicate his devotion or his disappointment, he's in a pickle.
Also, Lan Wangji is aware of the popular Wuxia trope of "lone survivor of a massacred clan grows up to seek revenge," and the rules say you can't reveal the survivor's identity until they have gotten a job as the bodyguard and/or concubine of their enemy's innocent heir. Sizhui has made a good start by befriending Jin Ling, but he's not showing much inclination to revenge, so Lan Wangji is stuck for now.
Like a Lantern in the Dark
When Wei Wuxian sees the lantern next to Lan Wangji, he breaks into a genuine, sunny smile, and runs up to very gently tease LWJ about it.
Like a lantern in the dark, Follow on now, follow your heart
Back then the lantern had a single rabbit, and was a gift from Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji said he's used to doing things alone, and Wei Wuxian said that he can change. This rabbit lantern has two rabbits, and is about to be a gift from Lan Wangji to Wei Wuxian. Because Lan Wangji has changed.
"Lan Zhan, let's buy it"
Wei Wuxian has also changed. He asks for what he wants, instead of just wishing, and is delighted when Lan Wangji gives it to him. The lantern, people. Lan Wangji gives the lantern to him.
They take the lantern together, walk with it together, and immediately give it to (their son) Sizhui, telling him to take good care of it. Sizhui is confused but Jingyi knows what's up. Look how happy he is that his favorite teacher has a boyfriend.
I'm pretty sure ceremonial lantern-giving is going to be incorporated into Gusu weddings from now on, at least weddings where there is already a kid who needs a special role in the ceremony.
Brotherly
The kids tell Lan Wangji that Zewu-Jun is here to see him, and Lan Wangji makes this face:
Holy fuck, what is going on between the Lan brothers? It occurs to me that we haven't seen them together since Wei Wuxian came back to life. They were close, in the before times, but 33 lashes and 3 years of forced seclusion might have changed things.
Wei Wuxian gets back into his mask, and they go and show the sword spirit to Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen...absorbs it...into his body? What is actually happening here?
I mean, it looks cool, but that can't be healthy.
Now that Nie Mingjue's body has been - mostly - found, his fears are confirmed. He says that Nie Mingjue qi-deviated in public and "all his veins were broken," which I'm pretty sure should actually be translated "all his meridians were broken." Meridians are what carry your qi around your body. After that happened, nobody knew what happened to him and/or his body.
So he's sad about this, but not shocked. I feel like Lan Xichen maybe could have tried harder to find out what happened, but he never was as stubborn as Lan Wangji.
You Don't Know Him Like I Do
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji point out that Jin Guangyao is the obvious suspect in the current situation, but Lan Xichen doesn't want to hear it; he literally turns his back on them while he explains all the reasons Jin Guangyao couldn't be the person who's in control of the Yin tiger seal.
Lan Wangji is hard to read in this conversation; he lets Wei Wuxian do the talking. But he seems deeply suspicious of Jin Guangyao, and is maybe kinda resigned to his brother refusing to hear him.
I wonder how many sketchy things Lan Xichen has forgiven, over the years? How many does Lan Wangji know about?
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/92ef71fbd30462db4789d6e20a5705f0/196a51f2c070a65d-a9/s540x810/7c7be6ea2d9adf7de6d5cd7a76a5c26e11d2eabf.jpg)
"He wouldn't do that"
Lan Xichen's statement here is a direct parallel to Lan Wangji's statement way back in epsiode 21, which is the last time we saw the brothers talking about anything besides battle strategy.
Back then, Lan Xichen asked about the deaths at the supervisory office - you know, all those people who killed themselves in horrible ways and/or were killed by vengeful spirits. He wanted to know if WWX killed them using Yin Iron. Lan Wangji said nope, not my sweetie, he sure didn't.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1a1a7681dfbbd76f919c47170499580b/196a51f2c070a65d-0c/s540x810/cbd78ad37b721b370ed96632fd1f35c5ac89e970.jpg)
"He wouldn't do anything like that."
Same framing, same camera angle, same blocking. Same message: the one I love would not do bad things using Yin iron. But - here's the thing - Lan Wangji was flat-out lying in that earlier conversation. He saw Wei Wuxian doing forbidden stuff and got in a huge-ass fight with him about it, only to deny it to his brother.
Parallels being what they are in this show, I think this is a strong suggestion that Lan Xichen is knowingly lying in the current conversation.
If we look back at that previous conversation, when Lan Wangji asked Lan Xichen "how can we understand someone's heart?" Lan Xichen gave a surprising answer.
"When looking at someone, you[...]shouldn't use a clear right or wrong, black or white to judge them. What matters is what their heart believes in."
When this conversation happened, it seemed that he was giving Lan Wangji advice about his Wei Wuxian situation, but in retrospect, I think he was thinking about Meng Yao, who had recently murdered a guy and defected to the Wen clan.
In the present moment, I think Lan Xichen knows that Jin Guangyao is sketchy, but he also believes there are some lines his friend won't cross. (He doesn't know yet about the fratricide, patricide, and filicide, or the massacre of the sex workers in the brothel where JGY grew up.) I don't think any of these guys really believes that "Yin iron" is one of those uncrossable lines.
The conversation is interrupted by the juniors having a loud argument inside about whether Wei Wuxian is The Worst, or merely bad. Lan Sizhui started this by very very mildly defending demonic cultivators. Jin Ling is super upset, because of the whole "Wei Wuxian killed my dad" and "Uncle Jiang Cheng frequently reminds me to kill people like Wei Wuxian and feed them to my dog" situation.
Lan Wangji immediately drops the important conversation he is having to go inside and deal with the more important problem of a child talking shit about his boyfriend.
Busted
The moment that Lan Wangji goes inside, Lan Xichen addresses Wei Wuxian by name, letting him know that he's recognized him. Watching him fondle his untouchable didi's shoulder might have been a clue. Wei Wuxian is alarmed but makes a quick recovery.
Lan Xichen is surprisingly kind to Wei Wuxian at the same time as being extremely extremely wary of him. He's not pleased to see him, and Wei Wuxian's 1000 watt smile and apparently genuine pleasure in greeting him properly receives a chilly response.
Wei Wuxian gently asks Lan Xichen to think about what they've discussed, but he doesn't press. He gives him time and space to think. In a way, Wei Wuxian is better at handling Lan Xichen than Lan Wangji is; Lan Wangji's stubbornness makes him inclined to push. Wei Wuxian is better at fitting his tactics to the situation.
He says his bit and then leaves Lan Xichen to think things over in peace.
Soundtrack: Follow the Heart by Yaima
#restless rewatch: the untamed#lan xichen#lan wangji#lanterns#twin prides#canary3d-original#the untamed gifs#the untamed#ep39
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but no really the narrative is about to snap like an overstretched rubber band
it’s not just that everything ruby has bottled up erupted at a really bad time it’s that she lashed out as viciously as she could at everybody—it’s that she said those things to hurt them, to claw at them the way they’ve been unknowingly inconsiderately picking at her wounds, and all of it landed. it’s that she spent this entire journey locked up inside her head, but once the pressure finally forced her out she knew exactly what to say to stab them where it would hurt the most. and it shocked all of them because they’re all so, so comfortable with thinking of ruby rose as this perfect ideal. the leader. the one who always knows what to do.
she didn’t just fall off her pedestal, she ripped the pedestal out from under herself and smashed it up and hurled the pieces at the ones who put her there, and then she left.
and these kids were taught to think in black and white, hero and monster, good and evil. the ever after defies simple binaries like that and their discomfort with that shines through in their reliance on the book to guide them and uneasiness with the increasingly obvious fact of the book’a fictionality; they’re not really emotionally equipped to handle a story where alyx is a person, neither a set of moral lessons nor a monster.
ruby rose was the hero.
then she experienced trauma flashbacks and froze during a fight, and she became a selfish girl who doesn’t care about saving the village and won’t even bother defending her friends.
and then every hurt feeling she’s been smothering for years boiled over and she said all the meanest things she could think of because she’s in SO MUCH pain that the only thing she can do is reflect it back into the world, and when blake tried to console her she said shut up. don’t do that. and ran away.
as far as any of them can see this happened literally out of fucking nowhere, completely unprovoked—sure jaune snapped at her first, but ruby exploded at everybody—at the cruelest possible time.
how do they make sense of this? how do they resolve the chasm that just ripped itself open between the idea of ruby rose and the reality of ruby rose? jaune already planted the seed of vilification—do they cultivate that, grasping for an explanation and finding maybe that’s who she really has been all along, or do they uproot it, setting aside their own hurt feelings to say no, that’s not who she is, something is wrong and she needs our support right now?
#rwby v9 spoilers#these are rhetorical questions#bc of course the fairytale stops here.#but!#with how all of this played out#i think there will probably be#an episode focused on wby+j#grappling with this before getting to ‘ruby is a person’#and then. AND THEN.#points at salem. HER NEXT
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Gaps Of Sunlight
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/23d84a0dd94b3d7c4031df36b7cd3692/9437366ce11cbe73-35/s500x750/b2726b622d81021a671edc5f7ff291f6b692bc57.jpg)
where you don’t see him
part 1
warnings: angst, death (implied suicide), grief, flashbacks
word count: 3.8k
He could never forget that night. It was etched into his memory, like a scar that hadn’t healed right, always pulling at the edges of his thoughts, aching when he least expected it. It felt like the beginning of the end. Your end.
You were sitting across from him on the couch, the same one where you’d spent so many nights curled up together. But tonight, the distance between you felt different. You were close enough to touch, but he could feel something pulling away, something slipping out of his grasp. He hated how aware of it he was, like the air between you had become too thick to breathe.
He watched you as you stared at the floor, your eyes tracing some invisible line in the carpet, avoiding his gaze. You were quiet. Too quiet. And even though you hadn’t said it yet, he knew. He could feel it in his bones, in the heaviness of the silence.
You were leaving.
The words hung between you, unspoken but so loud they drowned out everything else. He should’ve said something then, anything to stop it from happening. To pull you back. To remind you of the way things had been before whatever had come between you. But he couldn’t find the words. Instead, he just sat there, feeling the tension coil tighter, his mind screaming at him to reach out.
But he didn’t. He just watched you, watched as you pulled further away even while you stayed in the same room. He hated himself for that. The way he let the moment slip by. How could he have let you go like that without fighting for you?
You finally spoke, your voice quiet but sharp. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
He flinched at the words, like you had just struck him. His throat tightened, and for a second, he couldn’t even breathe. But still, he didn’t say anything. The regret was already forming in his chest, the weight of it sinking deeper with every second of silence that passed. You were waiting for him to respond, waiting for him to give you something that would make you stay, but he just sat there, frozen in his own fear and confusion.
“Talk to me.” you said, your voice breaking a little as you finally looked at him. Your eyes were pleading, desperate for something he wasn’t giving you. “Please, just talk to me.”
He’d tried to talk to you so many times before, countless times when you had stood in front of him just like this, eyes wide, full of pain, pleading for something he never seemed able to give. He had tried. God, how he’d tried. But every time, the words had come out wrong. They’d twisted in the air between you, losing their meaning as soon as they left his mouth. No matter how much he explained, how much he opened up, it never felt like it was enough. You needed something more, something deeper, something he didn’t know how to give.
And now, standing there in that moment, he couldn’t find the words anymore. He had exhausted them all, worn out every way he knew how to say “I love you. I’m here. Please, just stay.” He had twisted and rearranged them so many times, trying to make them sound new, trying to say them in a way that might finally reach you. But none of them had worked, and now there were none left. He felt empty, drained of anything meaningful to offer, his voice caught somewhere deep in his chest, locked away with everything else that had gone unsaid.
What good would it do to talk again? What could he possibly say that would make a difference now? The silence between you felt like a chasm, wide and unforgiving, and he didn’t know how to bridge it. Not anymore. He was tired. Too tired to try and find the right words when they had always failed him before.
He should have. He knew it then, just as he knew it now. You were reaching out to him, giving him a chance to fix things, to pull you back from the edge. But he felt paralyzed, trapped in his own mind, unsure of what to say, how to fix what was already unravelling between you.
“I’m trying.” he finally managed, but the words sounded hollow even to him. They weren’t enough. They never had been.
“Are you?” You stood up then, pacing the room as if the movement might shake something loose, might force him to meet you where you were. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It hasn’t felt like it….”
He swallowed hard, feeling his chest tighten. “I am.” he insisted, though the doubt in his voice was too clear. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself at this point.
You stopped pacing, turning to face him, your arms crossed over your chest. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” you admitted, and the rawness in your voice nearly undid him. “I don’t know how to reach you.”
And there it was. What you had been trying to say all along. You were losing him, and it terrified you. He could see it in your eyes, the way your lips trembled as you spoke. But instead of rushing to reassure you, instead of closing the distance between you and holding you, he stayed where he was, his mind spinning with everything he should be saying but wasn’t.
“I’m here.” he said weakly, the only thing he could come up with in the moment.
You stared at him, your eyes searching his face for something that wasn’t there anymore. “No.” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not.”
The silence stretched between you, long and unbearable. He wanted to break it, to take back every moment he’d let slip by without telling you how much you meant to him. He wanted to beg you to stay, to promise you that things would get better. That he could be better. But the words stuck in his throat, and all he could do was sit there, watching as you slipped further out of reach.
You let out a shaky breath and turned away from him, walking toward the door. And that’s when panic set in, crashing over him in a way that made his chest feel like it was caving in. He stood up, taking a step toward you, finally breaking free of the paralysis that had held him back all night.
“Wait.” he called after you, his voice rough with emotion.
You paused, your hand on the doorknob, but you didn’t turn around. “What is there left to say?” you asked quietly.
Everything. There was so much left to say. So much he hadn’t told you. How much he loved you. How sorry he was. How terrified he was of losing you, even though you had been pushing him away for so long. But none of it came out. Instead, he just stood there, watching your back as you waited for something he couldn’t give.
After what felt like an eternity, you opened the door, stepping out into the night without another word. The door clicked shut behind you, and the sound of it echoed in the silence of the room.
And that was it. You were gone.
He sank back onto the couch, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them, the weight of the moment crashing down on him. He had let you leave. He had let the love of his life walk away, and he hadn’t even tried to stop you.
The regret had been instant, burning in his chest like acid. But it was too late.
Until it wasn’t.
The next day, you came back.
He hadn’t expected it, not really. He had spent the night wide awake, staring at the ceiling, mind running through every moment, every word that had passed between you. The regret hung heavy, suffocating him, keeping him in this state of restless dread. He wasn’t sure if he would see you again, wasn’t sure if there was anything left to salvage.
But there you were. Standing in the doorway, looking at him with those eyes that were always too full of something. Something he could never quite grasp but always felt.
“I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice fragile and breaking, like it was costing you everything to say the words.
He knew.
You didn’t have to say it, but you did. Maybe you needed to, maybe you thought that apology was what would fix the cracks between you, the ones you both had spent months ignoring, pretending they weren’t there, widening with every unspoken word, with every misunderstanding.
“I didn’t mean it.” you added, your voice trembling, your hands twisting together like you didn’t know where to put them.
“I know.” he said softly, his voice raw, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He did know. Somewhere deep inside, he had always known you didn’t mean to hurt him. It was never about that.
You stepped closer, uncertain at first, and then suddenly you were in his arms. His arms came around you without thought, like they had been waiting for this moment, for you, since the second you walked out. He held you tight, tighter than he ever had before, like he could keep you from slipping through his fingers again if he just held on hard enough.
By the time the night fell, you ended up crying together.
He hadn’t meant to cry. He didn’t even know why he was crying at first. But once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t like when he cried alone. This was different. There was something in you that broke open the dam inside him, that brought out the flood of emotions he didn’t even realise he had been bottling up. He wasn’t just crying for himself. He was crying for you, too. For the both of you. For everything that had gone unsaid, for the way you were both hurting and couldn’t seem to find a way out of it.
And you cried because…well, he didn’t know. He could never quite figure out why you were crying. You never told him. Maybe you didn’t even know yourself. But you cried into his chest, your body shaking with sobs, and all he could do was hold you, stroke your hair, and try to pretend like this was enough. Like his love was enough to heal whatever it was that was hurting you.
Maybe that’s why he hadn’t cried after you. After you were gone for good. Maybe he had cried so much with you, so often for you, that by the time you left this world, he was hollowed out, his tears dried up like some empty well. It sounded stupid, cliche even. Like something out of a song or a story. But it felt true. As impossible as it seemed, he felt like you had taken all his tears with you when you left.
He didn’t understand you. Not really. And maybe that was what had started to break him. Because he could see it, he could feel it every time he looked at you. The way you were hurting. There was this deep well of pain inside you that you never let him touch, never let him understand.
He wanted to so badly. He wanted to crawl inside your mind, your heart, your soul, and understand every part of you, especially the parts you kept hidden. He wanted to know what haunted you, what kept you up at night, what made you flinch when he touched your hand too softly, what made you cry when you thought he wasn’t looking.
It hadn’t always been like that.
If he let himself remember, if he allowed the memories to come through without the weight of regret and loss clouding them, he’d realise how much more there had been. More light, more laughter. It wasn’t always tense, wasn’t always full of hurt. He wouldn’t have put himself through it for nothing. He loved you, for you, for everything you were. He loved how you could make him laugh when he thought he had forgotten how, how your laugh alone could pull one out of him even when he didn’t see it coming.
But now, thinking about the good times was dangerous. It was like looking at small gaps of sunlight through the cracks in the walls, those moments of brightness that felt too far away, too distant to reach. Remembering the good made him miss you more than anything.
He could still see you, so vividly, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your small living room. It was much smaller than his and so full of things, pointless, useless things that weren’t really pointless at all. Books stacked in piles on the floor because you never bothered to put them on a shelf, plants that were a little too wild because you said they had their own way of growing and who was he to tell them otherwise? Trinkets and little souvenirs that you’d collected from markets, from friends, from who knows where.
At first, it had overwhelmed him. The clutter. It wasn’t how he lived. His place was neat, organised, everything in its place. But your place…it was chaotic, in the best way. It was alive. Every little thing had a story, a reason for being there, and he’d come to know them all by heart. That statue you found on a trip with your sister, the one you said was supposed to bring good luck, even though you never really believed in it. The old record player you rescued from a charity shop because “it still had some life in it”, even though half the time it would skip in the middle of a song.
He loved it there.
It felt so you. And being there with you, in your space, surrounded by everything that made up your world, it felt like home in a way his place never had. He would have moved in with you in a heartbeat if you’d let him. He was ready for that, but he knew you weren’t, not yet. So, he didn’t push. He was willing to wait, to be patient, because being with you was enough.
“Do you think it’s haunted?” you asked, out of nowhere, breaking the quiet as you stretched out on the floor, your head resting on a pillow you’d pulled from the couch. He looked at you, confused, not sure where the question had come from.
“What, the apartment?” he asked, a half-smile already forming on his lips.
“Yeah.” you said, dead serious, though your eyes sparkled with that mischief he loved. “Sometimes I think there’s a ghost here. Like, maybe a little old lady who used to live here and just forgot to move on. She probably hates that I haven’t dusted in weeks.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if she’s here, she’s probably furious about that pile of laundry in the corner.”
You grinned, your smile widening as you looked over at the mountain of clothes you had promised to fold at least three times that week. “Nah, I think she’s cool with it. She’s probably sitting on it, judging me from her perch.”
He couldn’t help but laugh again, harder this time. The way you talked, the way your mind worked, it never failed to catch him off guard, in the best way. He loved that about you, how you could take something as mundane as laundry and turn it into some bizarre, hilarious scenario.
You turned your head to look at him, propped up on the couch, watching you with that soft look in his eyes, the one he didn’t always realise he was wearing. “What?” you asked, still smiling. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing.” he said, shaking his head. “You just…you make me laugh.”
“Oh, that’s my goal in life.” you teased, rolling over onto your stomach to face him. “If I can make Alex Turner laugh, then I can die happy.”
“I mean it.” he said, leaning forward a little, his smile softening. “I don’t laugh like that with anyone else. Just you.”
You paused then, your teasing smile fading into something warmer, something softer. You held his gaze, the two of you sharing a moment of quiet that stretched between you.
“I’m glad.” you finally said, your voice quieter now. “I’m glad I can do that.”
He didn’t say anything, just smiled and reached out, gently brushing a piece of hair from your face. You closed your eyes at the touch, leaning into his hand just slightly.
You sat up then, before it could get too sweet, crossing your legs under you, and looked around the room, a thoughtful look on your face. “What do you think? Should we get rid of the ghost? I feel like maybe she’s had enough of us by now.”
He laughed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah. I think she likes us. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve charmed her.”
You smiled, that wide, bright smile that always made his heart feel like it might burst. “Yeah, I think you’re right. She’s probably living vicariously through me.”
The two of you laughed together then, the sound filling the room, echoing off the walls that held so many of your shared memories. In that moment, everything was perfect. Easy, light, full of love. You were both so far from the darkness that would come later. So far from the tension and the hurt. It was just you and him, laughing about ghosts.
After the initial shock, after the numbness that froze him in place when he first heard the news, there was a hollow stretch of time where he couldn’t think at all. He couldn’t even let the words sink in because they didn’t feel real. They couldn’t be real. You’d killed yourself in that very room. The room where you had laughed together, where you had laughed about ghosts and joked about that little old lady who might be haunting the place.
But once the shock started to wear off, once the numbness cracked just enough to let his thoughts seep in, they didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it, how you had slipped so far from him without him noticing, without him being able to stop you. The disbelief twisted into something darker, something more painful, and suddenly, he found himself wondering if maybe you had meant it all along.
Had it been planned? Even back then? In those quiet moments when you seemed at peace, when you were laughing, were you just fooling him? Were you taking advantage of the fact that he was so in love with you, so wrapped up in you, that he couldn’t see what was really going on? Had you been hiding it from him the entire time, right under his nose, and he was just too stupid to notice?
It seemed impossible, but then again, how else could he explain it? He had felt it. Your pain, your darkness. But you had never let him understand it, never let him in. He knew you were hurting, but he had convinced himself that you would tell him if it got bad, that you trusted him enough to share the weight of it. He had been ready, so ready, or so he thought, to bear it for you if he had to. To be there for you, no matter what. But you hadn’t let him. You had kept it all locked up inside, and now…now… you were gone.
He wondered if you had been telling him all along. In your own way. In the only way you knew how. The ghost. Maybe that was just an extension of you. Maybe you were talking about yourself, about what you would become.
It made him sick to think about it, but he couldn’t stop. The thoughts kept spiralling, twisting into knots he couldn’t unravel. Had you been trying to warn him, and he had been too blinded by his love for you to see it? Maybe the jokes about the ghost, the imaginary hauntings, had been your way of preparing him. Preparing him for what would come, for what you were planning all along.
And now, he wondered if you were that lady. That ghost you used to laugh about. Were you haunting the place now, too? Did whoever lived there now talk about you, joke about the spirit of a woman who lingered in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to make herself known?
The thought made his chest tighten, his throat constricting with a pain so deep it felt like it might crush him. He imagined someone else living there, in your space, unaware of what had happened, of what you had gone through. Of what had happened to you. And maybe, just maybe, they’d talk about you. The way you used to talk about that ghost.
Maybe they’d say “Do you think the place is haunted?”
and they’d laugh, like you used to laugh, without any idea what had really happened in that room. Without knowing that it was your laughter that used to fill those walls. Without knowing that your pain still echoed there, silent and unseen, but always present.
He hated himself for thinking it. For wondering if you had been planning it from the start. For even entertaining the idea that you had been hiding this from him on purpose. But the questions wouldn’t stop. They circled around his mind, relentless, picking apart every memory, every moment the two of you had shared. Was there something he should have seen? Some sign, some clue that he had missed?
He replayed that night over and over. It had seemed so innocent then, so sweet. But now…now it felt tainted. It felt like there had been something more behind your words, behind your smile, and he had been too blind to notice.
He couldn’t stop wondering if you were haunting him, even now. Not just the apartment, but him. Haunting his mind, his heart, making him question everything. Making him doubt every moment you’d shared, every piece of happiness he thought he’d given you.
Had you really been happy with him? Or was he just another thing you’d been trying to escape?
The guilt gnawed at him, unrelenting. He couldn’t help but feel like he had failed you. He had tried so hard to be what you needed, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing he did was ever enough. And now he was left with nothing but questions and a hollow space where you used to be.
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a/n: idk. it’s just a bunch of words.
#alex turner#alex turner x reader#alex turner x you#alex turner angst#alex turner fic#alex turner fanfic#angst#goblinontour
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while im on a roll i think we should talk about them exploring the depths together too
- whenever they go on walks together both of them actively keep their distance from chasms
- cue zelda falling flashback
- zelda learns of all the interesting things down there from josha
- “there are statues?? ancient statues?? that we know little of in regards to their origins??”
- josha rambles and zelda intently listens. she’s writing things down on her purah pad
- link had a notebook feature added by robbie, he knew she’d want it for the sky islands at least
- sometimes he scrolls through them when shes at the school and somehow isnt surprised to see 200+ entries
- zelda eventually asks him about the idea of going into the depths. link is vehemently against it initially
- she’s visibly disappointed and he feels bad. he eventually agrees Only if they prepare for it enough
- link takes her to cotera and gets all of her clothes Fully upgraded. then buys her another set of armour and upgrades those too
- he teaches zelda how to swing a sword. she already knows how to fire a bow, so he gives her his strongest (it’s a royal guard’s bow. he’d give her a lynel bow but she isnt as stupidly strong as him)
- buliara decides to make her an ornate shield that’s both strong and pretty to symbolise her finally stepping into the fighting world. some decals are similar to urbosa’s shield. zelda tries not to cry
- link’s built them a diving platform into the chasm so they don’t touch the gloom that’s bleeding out into the world
- he has an absurd amount of sunny and gloom resistant meals. hes not taking any chances at losing her again
- zelda is an explorer and a scholar at heart, keeping the depths from her would be like keeping her from her books. he ignores the anxiety in his stomach and stands beside her on the platform
- “stay by me.” “i promise.”
- zelda’s gotten more used to freefalling now but she still laughs wildly every time. the rush of wind through her hair makes her feel free and alive
- the place is well lit since link went through and Thoroughly activated all the lightroots before he even let her step foot near the chasm
- he holds her hand the entire time and keeps on high alert
- link gives her a thumbs up when she kills her first gaggle of little froxes. she’s grinning and brimming with adrenaline
- she takes pictures of everything, and i mean Everything. the trees, the flora, formations, the skeletons, the lightroots, even the yiga hideouts
- zelda’s frozen in awe when she witnesses farosh gracing the depths with her presence for the first time. she feels a strong need to follow. a friend, a sister.
- link advises against it. he reminds her that neither have anything resistant to electricity and as well meaning as farosh is, she’s difficult to get close to
- zelda loses her MIND at the abandoned mines. link holds her hand to make sure she climbs down safely
- she’s utterly obsessed with zonaite. link breaks a piece for her and she keeps it safe in her pocket. she treats it like a momento of the first time they went into the depths together
- link is on high alert. she accidentally walks too close to a monster mining site and link immediately springs into action. she headshots the bokoblins but link steals the limelight by making quick work of the remaining moblins and one silver bokoblin
- after all this time he still acts like her knight. she doesn’t think he’ll ever stop
- “we need to be more careful of our surroundings.” because goddess forbid he scolds her properly
- they sit and eat some of the food they packed underneath a lightroot. zelda’s obsessed with the surrounding fauna. link’s focused on the way her face glows when she’s excited
- zelda takes her first bit of damage and link takes down the enemy with such fury she’s taken aback
- it’s only a minor wound but it makes his stomach turn and all the worries of losing her again and watching her almost die come flooding back
- she knows that look. she understands. it will be a long time before he fully trusts her to be in potentially dangerous situations
- “link, we can go home if this is becoming too much.” “i.. yes. please.”
- they find another chasm entrance and link is able to conjure up a hot air balloon from nothing. she wonders if she’ll ever stop being surprised by the autobuild feature
- she squeezes his hand as they go up together. he squeezes back
- the sunset is beautiful. they stay in the air for a while, watching the sky bleed from orange to red
- “thank you.. for today.”
- link nods, “we can go down again sometime soon.”
- zelda grins
#zelink#legend of zelda#zelda x link#zelda and link#loz zelda#zelda breath of the wild#zelda tears of the kingdom#zelda#princess zelda#zelda totk#totk link#loz link#link#link botw#tears of the kingdom#totk#loz totk#totk depths
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Fires of Passion, Ashes of Hate— The End
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previous part series’ masterlist!
Summary: Lovers (mentioned) to enemies.
Warnings: Hate (?), blood, injuries, a lot of cursing, ooc Kaz. Also, not proofread.
Notes: As always, italics are flashbacks! I’m not entirely happy about how rushed this feels. I do, however, really like the end and I hope you guys do too. I do plan to make up for rushing this with extras, which so far are going to be the begging of their relationship and the breakup (and why they broke up.)
* ੈ✩‧₊˚
For months, Kaz had been meticulously planning, sacrificing meals and sleep along the way. For months, Kaz tirelessly brainstormed different ideas, only to abandon them upon discovering minor flaws. Long months of hair-pulling, lip-biting, and picking at the skin around his nails.
He preferred his plans to be flawless, or at least as close to flawless as possible. He had a penchant for meticulously attending to small details that most would overlook. Opportunities that most would miss.
But this? He found himself adrift, unsure of his next move. The thought of proceeding blindly grated on him, intensifying his frustration. Even worse were the relentless doubts echoing in his mind, like the constant cawing of crows.
Despite Jesper and Inej's pleas to join him in his reckless pursuit, he adamantly refused. He couldn't bear the thought of putting them in harm's way, not because of his own anger and thirst for revenge.
All those months spent tirelessly searching for a way to strike back at Pekka led him to find refuge inside the old building. There, he meticulously set up device after device crafted by Wylan. He harbored no desire to simply end Pekka, for that would be too merciful by his standards. Instead, he yearned to inflict upon him the same agony he had endured years ago. He wanted him to hurt physically and financially, and the most effective means to accomplish this was by detonating his new acquisition.
In an instant, all the effort he had poured into his questionable plan was nullified by none other than her.
He had anticipated the Dime Lions to find him, engaging in a battle until only one remained victorious. This inevitable showdown was something he had prepared for, though uncertain of its timing. However, her involvement was never part of the equation.
To say Kaz was scared was a revelation, a sensation he had long relegated to the recesses of childhood memories. The darkness of their home, Jordie’s teasing laughter echoing down the corridors, the frantic escape from the pigs’ relentless pursuit—each a fragment of his past, each a reminder of the fear he had once known.
There was also the memory of Pekka’s betrayal looming large, a specter of fear that gripped his heart with icy fingers. Back then, she had tried to comfort him, to bridge the chasm of his terror with a simple embrace, but he had recoiled, the weight of his own emotions too heavy to bear. The repulsion lingering, the image of his brother’s accusing gaze etched into his mind’s eye.
Back then, he had left behind more than just his last name. Kaz Rietveld’s fear was a relic of his past, a burden he could no longer carry. Brekker, on the other hand, was immune to such weaknesses. Fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford, a shadow he refused to let darken his path. For him, fear was not an obstacle; it was merely a whisper in the wind, easily drowned out by the thunder of his determination.
Yet, there he stood in the darkness of the crumbling house. A solitary figure bathed in the moon's silver glow, his silhouette a stark contrast against the velvety blackness that enveloped him. The air hung heavy with an unnameable dread, thick with the weight of his own apprehension, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears like the beating of distant drums, a relentless cacophony echoing the frantic tempo of his escalating panic. Each breath he took was a struggle, a desperate gasp for air in a room that seemed to shrink around him, constricting his chest with invisible hands.
Tremors wracked his frame, his muscles tense and coiled like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. His gloved hands shook with a violent tremor, fingers twitching with the restless energy of fear while the once-familiar leather felt foreign against his skin, slick with the sweat that had gathered within.
His mind spun in dizzying circles, a whirlwind of fragmented memories and shadowy phantoms.
And then, a sensation so primal, so overwhelming, that it threatened to consume him whole. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to stretch on for eternity, swallowing him up in its dark embrace. It was a fear born not of the tangible, but of the intangible, a nameless dread that lurked in the deepest recesses of his soul.
In that moment, Kaz Brekker was not merely scared; he was consumed by an overwhelming, bone-deep terror.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
In all the years since assuming his new identity, she was the sole individual who evoked a semblance of fear within him. Not because he feared her, but because he feared for her. He fretted over her safety, yet true terror never gripped him. Not like it did now. Never like it did now.
“No, what are you doing here, Kaz?What is— How could you be so unbelievably foolish?”
“I had it all planned you fucking idiot.”
“Planned? Planned what? Your fucking death? Is that it?”
“Of course not! What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?”
Kaz’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. His jaw tensed, muscles rippling with the effort to contain his rising fury. He paced back and forth for a second, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight, before her voice interrupted his steps.
“I know exactly what you think you are doing but let me tell you, this is not the way you absolute idiot! Saints! This is certain death, Kaz.”
“I know what I’m doing!” His voice was a defiant growl, his eyes blazing with determination as she stepped closer, her gaze searching his for any hint of doubt. “Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Open your fucking eyes, Brekker! You are going to get yourself killed.”
A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, morphing the frown into a semblance of a smile as his eyes swept over her features.
“So what? Why does that matter to you, huh? Why would you possibly care now when you never did before?”
“Never did? How fucking stupid can you be? Never cared?”
“You never fucking did!”
Breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving with the weight of his words. He turned away, unable to meet her gaze, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Brekker?”
“You!” His voice, a fragile facade shattered, cracked with emotion as his bottom lip quivered. His gloved hand rose to grasp at the ends of his disheveled hair in frustration. “Fuck— You! You are what’s wrong with me. You and your infuriating face, your grating voice, your laughter that pierces like needles, and those patronizing eyes.”
The sound of her footsteps reached his ears, and soon, the rhythm of his own steps joined in, creating a dissonant duet that mirrored the discord in his heart.
"So what, you just decide to concoct some half-baked scheme to take down Rollins, knowing full well it's a death sentence?"
His steps faltered, the fiery tempest within his soul halting his movement with a sudden, jarring intensity. Fury, a relentless inferno, blazed through his veins, igniting every fiber of his being with an uncontrollable rage.
With a primal roar, he surged forward, his fingers curled around her arms like iron vices, muscles flexing with a raw, primal strength as he propelled her backwards, her back colliding with the unyielding surface of the wall with a resounding thud.
“Get the fuck out of here-“
“No.”
“I’m not fucking asking.”
“You either leave with me, or we both stay.”
His grip tightened, fingers digging into flesh as he pinned her against the unforgiving barrier, every ounce of his being consumed by the need to dominate, to assert his power over her form.
His gloved fingers, their relentless grip now slackened, traced a deliberate path from her arm, gliding along the delicate curve of her collarbone before settling upon her neck. There, they tightened with a forceful resolve, constricting her airway with an iron grip that left no room for escape. “Get. Out.”
Her mouth open, his gaze flickered downward to her now parted lips, desperate for air, as she shook her head in refusal.
With a frustrated groan, his hand relinquished its grip on her body, her form leaning forward as if seeking solace in the precious air her lungs yearned for.
“I hate you,” she whispered, her voice mixed with the soft gasps for air that left her lips. He reached out again and grabbed her chin, — as he once did when her eyes sparkled with love instead of tears— forcing her to meet his eyes. “Say it again,” he demanded, his grip firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation.
“I hate you.”
As he looked into her eyes, he struggled to reconcile the present with the past, finding it difficult to believe that there was once a time when she had adored him, loved him with every fiber of her being. A time when he, too, had been consumed by love for her, his passion burning bright and untamed, bordering on dangerous obsession.
He could still vividly recall the first time she had uttered those three words, a moment etched into his memory with indelible ink. It was a poignant reminder of a love that had once flourished between them, a love so powerful that its absence now left behind a breathtaking ache, a hollow longing for what could never be forgotten.
He recalls the biting cold, how their noses had turned red from the chill. Yet, amidst the frosty air, he remembers the warmth that enveloped them both as they finally made their way inside the slat, eager to kindle the little fireplace she had insisted on building.
Forest green was the hue of the blanket she had chosen, a subtle barrier that separated them, granting the illusion of closeness without the need for full physical contact.
“I love you,” she had whispered, her voice carrying a shy vulnerability that was a stark departure from her usual confidence. Without hesitation, his gloved hand had reached out, gently cradling her chin and tilting her head to meet her eyes. “Say it again,” he had urged, and the moment she did, his heart skipped a beat.
His hand traced a tender path, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before returning to gently caress her cheek. “I love you too, love.”
He had winced slightly at the repetition of the word in the same sentence, but her soft smile eased his unease, and he watched her confidence reappear. “I know.”
“I hate you too, love.”
“I know.”
With a sigh, he allowed his fingers to travel up her face, their touch gentle as he pushed the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Get out.”
He did not want her to get hurt because of this. While his mind rationalized it as not wanting to tend to her wounds as he had months ago, his heart simply couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt, let alone gone. “Please.”
“Come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can! Kaz— you are going to kill yourself.”
He wasn't entirely convinced of that. Despite the messiness of his plan, he had crafted numerous scenarios where only two outcomes guaranteed certain death. He couldn't afford to perish before exacting vengeance upon Ronllins.
“How cute.”
For a moment, he feared he had finally succumbed to madness. The relentless thirst for revenge seemed to manifest as auditory hallucinations of Pekka's voice. Yet, as he glanced into her eyes only to see them fixed on something behind him, he realized the voice was no figment of his imagination.
“Mr. Brekker, a pleasure as always.”
His fingers tightened around her chin once more, forcing her to meet his gaze, which pleaded silently. With a shake of her head, Kaz knew she had no intention of leaving.
“Rollins.”
“And who do we have here? A new dreg?”
With one last defeated glance in her direction, he pivoted to confront Rollins. His men shadowing behind him, armed with an array of weapons, their faces adorned with smirks.
He was confident he had placed enough detonators strategically around the structure. His fingers instinctively traced the cold metal of the gun Jesper had entrusted to him, ready to trigger the devices with a single bullet. The explosions, however, were not intended to harm any of them; their sole purpose was to weaken the structure, creating a brief window of opportunity for him to slip away before the inevitable collapse.
Now, he found himself hesitating to pull the trigger. This was precisely the mistake of proceeding blindly with the plan—it had led to this unforeseen risk, one he had not calculated and, even more troubling, had not found a solution to. He hadn't anticipated Pekka's arrival; he had assumed it would only be a few of his men. Men who wouldn't know when to retreat and would likely perish amidst the rubble and dust.
But, much like his own men, Pekka would be oblivious to the right moment to escape and save himself, which would prematurely end all the suffering Kaz intended to inflict upon him.
And she... She had no idea either. If he pulled the trigger, she would likely end up trapped beneath the collapsing building as well. Which left Kaz with the stark realization that he was fucked.
Of all the meticulously crafted plans, these miscalculations had moved Kaz from Plan A to Plan T— one of the only two plans that meant certain death. Which, despite its initial premise relying on the gun misfiring and failing to detonate the bombs, would yield the same outcome if he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.
“Kaz.”
Her gentle whisper was the sole anchor that pulled him back from the uncertain future to the stark reality of the present. Meeting her gaze once more, he found reassurance in her nod and the quick glance she cast at the gun he still held. This time, however, it was he who shook his head in refusal.
“Do it.”
“You all will die.”
“No,” she interjected, her voice firm as she shook her head. The strand of hair he had brushed aside moments ago falling back into place by her face with the movement. “Pekka will be out the door as soon as the first explosion goes off.”
“You will die.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Once more, he hesitated, but before any other words could escape his lips, she seized the gun from his grasp. With a single nod of determination, she fired, hitting the bomb that would soon set off the rest in the chain reaction.
The building trembled, sending dust cascading down, dirtying his hair as he observed the Dime Lions exchanging worried glances with one another. And as she had assured, the instant the first explosion reverberated through the air, Rollins began barking orders before hastily making his escape from the scene.
Before long, the building convulsed once more with the force of the second explosion, coinciding with Rollins' men launching their assault. One by one, bodies dropped, their falls drowned out by the deafening cacophony of the bombs.
As the first piece of the roof plummeted to the ground, signaling the urgency to flee, he would have heeded the warning if not for the sight of her collapsing to her knees, clutching her now bleeding arm. Against his instinct to flee, his legs propelled him in the opposite direction, deeper into the building. With swift strides, he sprinted towards the assailant who had shot her and now aimed his gun at her vulnerable form.
A grunt escaped his lips as his body collided with the Dime Lion, successfully tackling him to the ground and forcing the gun out of his reach. As anger consumed him, his punches became swifter and more forceful, each one finding its mark on the rival's face. The only sounds reaching his ears were the cracks of impact and the pained moans escaping the Dime Lion, all else was muffled.
He emitted a surprised sound as someone pulled him away from the unrecognizable face of his rival. Before he could question it, another sizable chunk of concrete crashed down exactly where he had been just moments before.
“We have to go.”
Unlike before, he swiftly rose to his feet and acquiesced to leaving with her, their quick footsteps drowned out by the agonized shouts of the Lions they were leaving behind.
The floor gave way beneath them, pillars collapsed all around, and glass flew in their direction. There had been many close calls, but they still made it out alive.
They continued running until their legs could carry them no further, seeking refuge in a nearby alley. Soon after the entire building collapsed, and the stadwatch sirens began to blare. They waited in tense silence until the stadwatch had passed by, allowing them to finally relax. Leaning against the wall, he eased the weight off his bad leg, taking a moment to try and massage away the pain.
Once they could properly catch their breath, and the pain in his side had subsided, he began to walk back to the slat, only pausing when he realized he didn't hear her quiet footsteps following behind.
As he turned, he found her looking around, trying to discern where to go next without attracting attention. With a sigh, he approached her and asked, "Are you coming?"
They walked in silence until the crooked silhouette of the building he called home came into view. With a deliberate slowness, he opened the door, gesturing for her to enter first, before following closely behind.
Once in his office, he shrugged off his now ruined coat and made his way to the bathroom. Inside, he located the new sewing kit he had recently purchased and retrieved it. He then exited the bathroom and moved to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of rye whiskey.
Drawing closer to her, his eyes keenly observed her movements. When he was near enough, he extended both items to her, watching as the hand that had been covering the wound reached out to accept them. “Rye. My favorite.” A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “Not for drinking.”
While she tended to herself, he swiftly changed out of his soiled shirt into a clean one, taking the opportunity to dust off his hair and wash his face as best as he could.
He returned to the room to find her comfortably resting in his bed, her eyes closed as she softly hummed a bar song.
He moved to his desk but allowed his gaze to linger on her form for a moment, memories of the many times he had seen her in such a peaceful state flooding his thoughts. He opened one of the drawers and retrieved a stack of papers, carefully searching between them until he found what he had hidden within.
He moved closer to her and sat on the bed beside her. "Here," he said, his hand extending out, offering a gift that had long been intended for her. He observed as she opened her eyes, her gaze traced down his face, following the line of his arm until her eyes settled on the paper folded between his extended fingers.
His eyes focused on her hand as it reached out, carefully taking the paper from his hand, before gently pulling it open. “Kaz-“
Her words were interrupted by a happy sigh leaving her lips as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her thumb gently tracing over the portrait that she had longed for since its mysterious disappearance.
Once her eyes had followed every stoke of paint in the portrait, she gently turned the paper over, revealing a message in the back of it. “My girl and I.”
He could see the pain in her eyes. It was the same one that graced his eyes every time he read her words on the back of the portrait that he had. The pain of knowing what was, but couldn’t continue to be. “How did you get this?”
He had looked for the street artist for a week. He was going to give up, but then he saw him. Sleeping under some stairs, shivering from the cold. He had asked him to recreate the portrait, and had payed a decent amount once the kid had been done.
He had been eager to give it to her as a ‘Sorry I stole the other one but surprise!’ gift of sorts, but he never got the chance. Between jobs and meetings they distanced themselves, and when they were together, they had become explosive. Too tired to do anything, too angry or frustrated to have a conversation.
It had continued to grow for a long time, and slowly they started to hate it. To hate one another.
They broke up before he even got the chance to add a message to the back of the portrait. “I found the artist and asked him to recreate the original.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved you.”
Loved. As the weight of his words settled in, her gentle smile slowly faded. Her eyes drifted away from his, returning to the message inscribed on the back of the portrait. With a tender touch, her thumb traced over each letter, lost in thought. “Why give it to me now?”
“Because I love you.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief, brows furrowed as she struggled to comprehend his words. A subtle tremor ran through her hands, and her lips parted, unable to articulate the myriad thoughts racing through her mind. “You-“ Her voice faltered as she started to articulate a response, but she hesitated, searching for the right words, leaving a pregnant pause in the air.
“You love me?”
The blurred line between love and hate only truly revealed itself to him when she entered his life.
The depth of his love became painfully evident when she walked away, leaving him feeling like nothing, yet the frustration remained as he couldn't shake the love that persisted.
Conflicting desires surged within him – the urge to kiss her clashed with the impulse to punch her. He wrestled with wanting to support her while simultaneously desiring her to endure solitude and suffering.
The desire to hear her voice warred with the anger that surged within him every time she addressed him. The yearning to embrace her and the desperate need to keep her at a distance.
How can he love her so passionately but hate her so brutally all at the same time?
“Hopelessly.”
Her eyes softened with a hint of disbelief, and a gentle blush tinted her cheeks as his unexpected response left her momentarily speechless, a subtle warmth spreading through her.
“But you hate me?”
“Dangerously.”
He noticed a spark in her eyes, a subtle sway in her form, and a teasing smile playing on her lips as the satisfaction of his answer radiated through her.
“I hate you too, Kaz Brekker.”
And if her feelings toward him were only filled with hatred, he'd find peace in knowing that at least she felt something for him.
For the first time in years, she flashed him a smile. A genuine smile, a familiar one. One he had seen countless times before, one his heart had desperately yearned for, and in return, he flashed one of his own.
* ੈ✩‧₊˚
taglist!: @moonstruck-poet @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @littleshadow17 @izzyisstuff @amybonehouse @justvibbinghere @circus-of-thoughts @anonymous-creep @myownpainintheass hope you guys enjoyed it! <3
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Hello! Do you have any recommendations on Zhongli/Xiao, or Chongyun and Xiao (either romantic or general) fics?
rubs hands together indeed i do. also highly recommend checking out the authors bc a lot of them have other incredible fic for the characters you're looking for!!
zhongxiao
Give me your heart (and I'll show you how to feel) by peredain (M, ongoing, 40k, some dom/sub themes, modern au) i will love modern aus until the end of time and this one has good plot, descriptions, and the feels. also i love that the yaksha group dynamics are fleshed out in this! they're so rare to find
fault lines by viverella (T, 23k, oneshot). scream. the tenderness and tension in this is so gentle. i fell to my knees bc these two old men. zhongli's voice is so nicely written :')
to carve nature at its joints (author commentary) and for services rendered by yelp (oneshots, 1k and 2k) the first is based on xiao's dream eating ability, and the second is about morax's inevitable erosion. the author has such an ability with words and their descriptions of xiao's loyalty, and zhongli's trust. i cherish greatly
bird in a cage by stormyseasons (gen, 33k, complete) i need to finish this but ohhhhhh it is insane,, the tenderness..... it traces xiao and zhongli's past through the archon war. also yaksha dynamics in this are so good
xiaoyun
i linked 4 in this post (please read these they're incredible) but heres more
lonely reflections (complete, 41k, M) and the sequel paper cranes (ongoing, 14k, E) by NocturnalFriend. chongyun's demon hunting expedition in the chasm takes a wrong turn. ive been meaning to read both but have heard v good things
intact by blurredbarcode; oneshot, gen, short and sweet!
reduced to just standing around, how absurd by justafellow04 this one's cute! it's an elaboration of a lantern rite lore bit that says chongyun's yang doesn't actually help xiao and its sweet :-)
also while im here: self promo of my xiaoyun writing exercises lol (v short drabbles of these two in different scenarios)
xiao and chongyun
"I won't let you become me, you'll be so much more" (170k words, ongoing) by snubton, which I think a lotttttt of people are fond of; I haven't read it myself (..writing style turnoff) but I've heard a bunch of good things. chongyun and xiao mentor mentee journey basically
after winter comes spring. 1/5 chapters, unfinished, featuring chongyun's yang energy and a flashback. it's sweet <3
#dkniade#asks#there's also a fic series that's zhongxiaoyun smut (by omiboshii on ao3; title's too long to write in the tags) but idk if ure looking#for that so it's not listed here lol. a fun read though#a lot of the authors are here on tumblr too but idk whether to tag them . lol. anyways if yall see this i love you all. thank you forever#thanks for the ask <33333333 i hope you're well!#zhongli#xiao#chongyun#zhongxiao#xiaoyun#fic rec#genshin impact#teyvat thoughts#i should write more xiao/yun........... the ao3 tag's dead and its getting to that time where i start missing them again..#my little guys. i firmly believe talking to each other would fix smth in both of them
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Fragments - episodes 31-35 author notes
You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!
The chasm in their understanding of what makes Vivi tick.
The stakes in this scene seem low and the twins are just overdramatizing the danger for the sake of unwinding and being silly, right? Yesn't. One wrong move or word, and they join those leafmen scattered all over the place.
Finding the line between bad actor and caring sister.
Of course Alisaie wants to hang out with Vivi. She doesn't want to admit that to herself, let alone risk looking desperate in her brother's eyes. Tsundere moment. It's been a while since they've. Had a rest. Between rescuing Minfilia from Laxan Loft and making their way to Il Mheg. Alphinaud, at least in my hc, isn't as physically durable, but definitely as stubborn and proud as Alisaie, so he wouldn't simply agree to chill out for a moment. Alisaie makes him tunnel-vision her bad (?) acting and openly throwing the game for supposedly selfish reasons, while she gets what she wanted, AND forces Alphi to sit his ass down.
I’m sorry but I really need to point out that her ahoge did, in fact, launch into the stratosphere.
More under the cut~
....Can you blame her tho.
Vivi’s shirt’s a bit more plain than usual, he needed to wear something practical under his crystarium guard disguise in Laxan Loft.
The flashback in episodes 32-33 has no dialogue per se, only monologues, to emphasize how disconnected they are.
Technically both vivis are real, but Exarch’s memories are definitely heavily skewed. He’d only known Vivi during the CT quests, in this story it’s a month or two in summer, during which literally nothing bad happens, sans the finale. Alisaie, however, got lucky to experience Vivi during Stormblood, his absolute low.
Exarch and Alisaie sit on opposing sides of the bias, one wears pink glasses, delusional and bluepilled, the other one’s (heh) redpilled, perhaps a bit too much. Hence Alisaie feels the whiplash when her jerkass woobie friend suddenly acts mellow (back in the present), still she has the expertise to tell that he’s not affected by a fae spell or anything.
Full page because I’m so proud of the paneling here, simple as this trick is, these speech bubbles blocking Vivi from sight neatly illustrate that Alisaie just babbles away, paying no heed to his state.
With the power of flashbacks and stories told by one character to another, I’m able to revisit any moment in their past whenever I please. I didn’t commit to a linear story because there was no story! Well, just the outlines. Vivi as a character began in ShB because I really needed to fuck that old man, I started writing down the lil scenes loosely connected by the canon plot, and that’s how the whole concept of Fragments came to be.
It may not work for everyone, but my secret sauce’s that you don’t have to begin at the beginning. Make a guy, put him in a situation, then ask a lot of whys and hows to expand his story backward and forward.
Keeping the past events for later allows me to flesh things out at a leisurely pace. This Alisaie flashback is actually an iteration, originally I’d planned to have Vivi stand alone and just think the broody thoughts, and that was supposed to be the transition between ARR and ShB arcs. I grow more writing muscle as I go, and I’m infinitely happy that I avoided that angsty infodump.
Okay this’s becoming a big fat tangent, but I wanted to acknowledge another pitfall: overusing a character as a mere exposition tool. I wouldn’t do this for, say, Tataru or Y’shtola. Being THE flashback haver makes sense for Alisaie because a) they’re close with Vivi, b) her worldview and opinion on Vivi are changing in ShB, she’s a smart lil thing who would slow down and reflect when appropriate, c) she has a distinct arc in my comic, and knowing what’s going on inside that elf brain will give you the most entertainment out of her actions in the present moment.
I’m new to writing and very excited about the story that comes together as we speak, so I like to show around my kitchen. Please lemme know if you enjoy this. I don’t know if I’m parroting the boring 101s, or if this’s actually useful to someone.
“Meals made for me” YEA HE CAN’T COOK. Well, barely.
New sharp outfit, procured by our most magnanimous branch. The “tail” will help me draw the upcoming Titania fight, it adds fluidity to his movements.
*presses the upgrade button*
There's a lot happening in his head that's not being shown. I hope at least some readers wonder who or what he leaves behind in his mind's eye in this moment. What we know for sure is that he doesn’t take too long to make a decision.
Not sure if subtle, but I did try the breadcrumbing:
Unfortunately for everyone, including himself :’>
I love this one especially because, instead of telling that about himself, Vivi asks Ardbert, kinda gauging his wol experience against the other wol’s.
Episode 34 really shook people awake and reminded that we’re off the msq rails with this story. I loved the response it evoked in the tags, lots of thoughtful rambling about being a hero.
Fae temptation jokes and all, but Feo Ul really says what Vivi needs to say out loud to himself.
Normalize prioritizing self-care over world-saving.
Vivi genuinely cares about Feo Ul. That’s unusual. It might be my storytelling mistake that I didn’t show much of his typical indifference before this scene, unless you count the episodes where he does this
instead of hurrying the fuck up with the msq. Or, perhaps, it’s okay, since this gets plenty of attention later on. You won’t miss the fact that he isn’t eager to set himself on fire to keep others warm. Feo Ul just lucked their way into his heart, and, as a result, he approaches the Titania fight with unusual consideration.
/srs mode on ^
Remember how I just talked about developing this story in all directions at once? I planned Vivi to have this demeanor during the early days of writing Fragments. Like, most of the time. He’d be a broody bitch, get slowly thawed by Exarch’s kindness, and... That’d be it. In veeeeeery broad strokes, this’s still the case, but the current iteration has much more nuance.
Vivi and Titania’s likeness has no deep meaning, take it or leave it. Vivi cares about appearances, he was bound to notice this. Feo Ul can see souls, visuals are secondary to them. But Vivi, being himself, must doubt and question everything.
He moves fast and thinks a lot as the adrenaline speeds him up.
Notice how he lets Titania speak and remains quiet. This’s common in most fights: he doesn’t indulge with chats or banter those who he sees as mere targets to destroy. There’s like a point of no return, if an enemy poses no threat and can be talked out of dying, Vivi will speak, sadly he enters this fight knowing that Titania has to die no matter what.
Once he’s familiarized himself with the situation, and realized that Titania’s more than just a mindless husk, things change up a bit. But for now, he just runs in circles, analyzes the situation, and overthinks about their visual resemblance :’>
Sorry not sorry but unintentional reference x’DD
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/00c141ccdb90ffe0ead6cc5c7c0a6f4f/31eb4f2e522c3ffa-e7/s540x810/7211442d47ab9fdc8ab9ea17d39134f61e18fae7.jpg)
To be fair Vivi IS being a magical boy in this miniarc so this works lmao.
Wrapping up on this note, thanks for sticking with me and reading till the end~
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So a while back I finished the third book of the Stormlight Archives, Oathbringer. As I was thinking back over the characters and plotlines, it occurred to me, "It's all about pain, isn't it." Each of the major plot beats seem to focus on how characters deal with and cope with their own personal pains.
Adolin is dealing with the feeling that he has betrayed everything that he and his father stood for, but he can't bring himself to feel guilty about it. Shallan is dealing with everything that happened in her childhood and feeling as though it was all her fault. Dalinar has to deal with the pain of the fact that he killed his wife and put an entire city to the sword: men, women, and children. Venli is dealing with the fact that her sister, her people, and everyone that she's ever known has died, and it's all her fault. Teft is still struggling with the guilt of bringing death to his whole family. Kaladin is dealing with the same darkness that nearly led him to cast himself into the chasm and feels powerless to prevent the deaths of those he feels responsible for. Moash is wrestling with the fact that he betrayed Kaladin: the only person who he feels was ever worthy of his respect or loyalty.
And each of them deals with the pain in their own ways. Adolin puts on a brave face and desperately tries to pretend that he's the same person as he always has been, despite the turmoil that is eating him alive. Shallan retreats further into the protection of disguises, faces, new personas, in a bid to be anybody but herself, anyone but the person who feels her pain. In his flashbacks, Dalinar nearly drinks himself to death in a vain attempt to drown the memories of those he murdered. Venli throws herself into her work, determined that she is going to make her people's sacrifice mean something. Teft falls into a depression and isolates himself from Bridge Four to prevent them from seeing his pain and his shame. Kaladin tries desperately to push it all down and focus on the next mission to keep himself from having the time to dwell on everything that he has lost. And Moash tries to rationalize his actions, convincing himself that the whole world is broken. Just like him.
And in the end, none of these coping mechanisms help them to move forward or deal with their pain. So long as they hold onto them, they only prolong their suffering. Adolin's conflict is only resolved when he finally comes clean to Shallan and receives her confirmation that he did the right thing. Shallan comes inches away from completely losing herself to her illusions until Hoid confronts her and asserts that, no matter what has happened and what she has done, she must never believe that she deserves to hurt. Venli has to mentally break from the work of the Fused and, with the prompting of Timbre, instead take the next step to try and rebuild what she has lost. Teft is forced to confront his own self-loathing and affirm that he will protect those he hates, even if the one he hates the most is himself. Moash falls fully into his self-rationalization and refuses to accept the idea that he could still change for the better.
Kaladin... well, Kaladin doesn't overcome his pain here. When he comes to the critical moment, he knows what he has to do to move on and become a better man. But he can't. Instead, he is forced to reckon with the fact that, despite his best efforts, sometimes all he can do is to take a step back and let somebody else save him. But that doesn't mean that he's any closer to accepting and healing from the pain of losing the ones he swore to protect.
In this, Kaladin's character mirrors that of Amaram, in a way. In their fight, Kaladin forces Amaram to strip away his rationalizations. Despite all his talk of working for the greater good of Roshar, Amaram still has to deal with the pain of the damage which his actions have inflicted on others. But instead of learning from his pain, he gladly surrenders it to Odium's reassurance: "You didn't do this. I made you do this. It wasn't your fault."
And all of this is what makes the conclusion of Dalinar's arc so powerful in this book. Dalinar, who so recently had to come to terms with a crushing amount of pain. Who once more was faced with a truth that in the past had driven him to self-destruction and desperation. Dalinar, who, despite all his attempts to be a better person, has to reckon with the fact that he has wrought untold amounts of death and destruction on people whose only crime was being in his way. And when he is given Odium's same offer? The choice to surrender his pain, his choice, his responsibility? He gives but one response: "YOU CANNOT HAVE MY PAIN"
Because in the end, it's all about pain. How we deal with it. How we accept responsibility and move on with our lives. Because the pain will never truly leave us. All that is left for us, then, is to turn the pain into a spark. To let it light a fire beneath our feet, that we may be a better person tomorrow than we were today.
#oathbringer spoilers#the stormlight archive#you cannot have my pain#it is mine to bear#mine to accept#mine to heal from and use to grow
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