#AND THEY TALKED ABOUT HOW THE SPELL WORKED

[blessedbycoyotes]

On a moonless night, a stargazer traveling far afield made his way into a section of woods that was uninhabited for reasons known to the locals but not known to him. A familiar thought came to his mind as he walked: Some truths can be found in separation from others. Such is my craft. It was both true and a rationalization of his loneliness, he knew, but as he grew older, he found it harder and harder to become un-separated from the others. He and they had become too different.

Quietly, the stargazer began his work. From the forest’s edge, peeking from side to side, he walked toward the dead center of a clearing. Kneeling, slowly and aware of every rustle of grass, he set down his pack. Pencils and paper and glassware were set and arranged by feel alone on a leather pad he rolled out beside him.

The stargazer sat ram-rod straight and allowed himself a moment to breathe. He picked up his sextant so slowly as to not make one sound. Just as his eyelash was about to graze the glass –

Fwhumpf.

The stargazer and his lungs froze. He had never encountered something truly terrible from a noise in the night, but he was for some reason or other not inclined to test that theory.

Fwhumpf.

The spell broke. He rose to his feet as fast as possible, dropping the sextant onto his pad, and whipped around, straining his eyes for any sign of any thing.

Fwhumpf.

“Hello,” rumbled the dragon, only shaped by its silhouette of the stars behind.

The stargazer, to his credit, did not panic, despite the tension in his head. “Hello,” he said.

“Are you an astronomer?” it asked. Only now did the stargazer realize that he could see its eyes, which barely reflected what little ambient light was there.

“In a sense,” the stargazer replied in a tone usually meant for well-meaning strangers he did not want to talk to. “I am not a professional, if that is what you mean.”

“No matter if you do it for coin, I think.”

The dragon’s voice was gentle, but not for a lack of ability; its voice was more felt than heard, and it was clearly struggling in trying to push just enough air to move its massive vocal cords but not enough to disturb what little peace remained in the clearing.

It spoke again. “Do you watch the stars or not?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Would you like to watch together? I came out here to do the very same thing.”

The stargazer did not parse those words for a full ten seconds, stunned as he was by such an unexpected question. His mind then ran in circles, calculating risks and paths of potential escape and his odds of outrunning an animal he knew nothing about and oh to hell with it, he thought, nothing interesting ever came of running anyway.

“Very well.”

The dragon looked him in the eyes for a brief moment, before turning slightly away and tipping onto its side with all the grace of a felled tree. It squirmed, disturbing much grass, before it managed to lie on its back, facing the stars.

The stargazer laid beside it.

“Anything good tonight?” the dragon asked.

“Aye. Meteor shower, Orionids. A comet’s trail.”

“Excellent,” it purred, “I almost forgot it this year.”

The stargazer got the impression that the dragon was smiling, but could not make out anything of the dragon’s expression and would not trust himself to predict the emotions of a beast he was unfamiliar with.

“I am impressed tonight. Not often I get to see this much dust,” it said, slowly.

“Indeed,” the stargazer stated flatly. “It’s why I’m here.”

He traced Gemini with two of his fingers. Lucky stars.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“To stargaze. Good meadow for it.”

“I mean - Do you live here?”

“Nearby.”

“Why?”

It rumbled. Do dragons laugh? “As opposed to what? Living near humans? That chance is gone now.”

“Now?” the stargazer asked again. “Did you live with humans once?”

“Decades ago, yes.”

“How?”

“I was one back then.”

The stargazer, incredulous, looked at nothing and furrowed his brow. “You used to be human?”

The dragon nodded. The stargazer did not see the motion, but that did little to stop his questioning.

“Were you cursed?”

“No. I chose this.”

“Chose?”

The dragon finally turned to face him. “You are alone too, are you not?” it asked back. “You shed your humanity by severing your connections with them. I have merely taken it a step further.”

The stargazer did not reply for a beat. He did not expect to be seen by a stranger. “Do you not miss company?”

“I do.”

“Then why become a dragon? Why stay here in perpetuity?”

“Some truths can be found in separation from others.”

Silently, the dragon turned its massive head to the sky.

“I was never a good human. Yes, I had scaleless skin, and I walked on two legs, but all the rest did not come to me naturally,” it growled. “Have you ever been in a play?”

“No.”

The dragon stared past the heavens as it began again. “Imagine you are suddenly thrust into one. We are short a man today, the troupe says, and pushes you onstage. You don’t know the lines. You don’t know how to mimic characters, or emotions, or even the fellow next to you. And so, you flounder, bouncing from stage left to right, actors pushing you around and whispering instructions in your ear that you cannot follow.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

“It was.”

“So,” the stargazer turned to look where the dragon’s eyes caught the starlight, “you chose to leave the stage.”

The dragon did not face him.

“Do you think it was it the right choice?”

Against the backdrop of stars, he saw the dragon’s brow raise ever so slightly; he saw it breathe ever so slowly.

“To this day, I am not sure. I do not know if I am happier out here, slowly becoming a legend of these woods, alone. But I can tell you this; dragonhood is much truer to me than my former life ever was. This body, this separate mode of being,” it sighed, “it feels like what I was made for. As if I were cast in the wrong mold the first time around.”

A sudden pain grabbed the stargazer’s chest.

“Why do you choose to be alone, astronomer?”

He struggled to form sentences until a moment had gone. Then, quietly, “The more I think, the more time passes, the more my thoughts differ from most people’s. The more I do not see myself in them. Their priorities, their methods… they seem alien to me nowadays.”

A sharp breath.

“Like I wasn’t one of them after all.”

The dragon turned back to the stargazer and held his eye until it saw something new.

“Would you like to stargaze with me again, sometime?”

“Yes,” he said, “I think I would.”

too many stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for pretending to be something you aren't and losing yourself in the process. not enough stories about turning yourself into a monster as a metaphor for choosing to openly embrace yourself even if it's strange to other people

[shehungers]

IMPOSTER

possessed!scholar husband x reader |18+| 3.8k

in an act of self-preservation, your family marries you off into an exorbitantly wealthy family. it's a loveless marriage to a reclusive and reticent man. one day, he informs you of leaving to handle the last affairs of his deceased uncle's estate. when he later returns, you're convinced this man is not your husband...

story warnings; dark content, dubcon, explicit sexual details, masturbation (mc), mirror sex, implications of sadism, classism, animal death (mentioned briefly), grotesque details + body horror, murder, pseudo-victorian setting, I am well aware that this is not how Victorian marriages would've gone — bite me 👊🏻, detail + prose heavy, roughly proofread

this is a concept piece #1 for my upcoming project: the lord of phantasm. please let me know if you'd like me to post the other concept pieces!

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

if you enjoyed, please leave feedback + reblog to help your girl out 💓

In the airless dark of your bedroom at night, you knew the man lying next to you under covers was not your husband. Once he had been, but now he no longer was.

The revelation had come to you before noticing the stillness of his broad frame in bed, certain stiffness which seemed more alike to rigor in a days old corpse rather than a man wrapped in the comforting spell of deep sleep.

His breaths were silent, if he even breathed at all, reminding you of childhood where the floorboards wouldn't creak so loudly if you sucked all the air out from your lungs into your throat, snagging it, holding it firm. Suddenly, you'd be lighter; effervescent; floating across the wooden slabs towards the kitchen past midnight, or out the front door during the years where testing your parent’s patience and fraying the head maid’s nerves was your favorite thing to do.

You’d learned later on, after the loveless vows and complicated legality behind joining your two families, that your husband had a knack for slipping away at night as well. Only, he wasn't at all the sort for flirtatious gallivanting and loquacious rendezvous with secret lovers in dim rooms, smells of mildew masked by a numbingly sweet, perfumey fog.

He was reclusive and reticent; one of those outstandingly brilliant scholars who believed the rest of the world was below him because he hadn't found an equal in conversation or thought. Social obligations—no matter the occasion or person—pained him to where he intentionally brought you as a buffer between himself and whomever was trying to speak to him.

Some of the talk was so astronomically beyond you that parroting the long-winded answers he spoke softly into your ear back to his audience made you burn under the collar from embarrassment and his proximity to you. His peers could not understand why he simply wouldn't talk for himself; meanwhile, they also wondered why someone without their level of formal education had even accompanied him.

At night, he became one with darkness and retreated to the depths of his study across the massive house you shared together. It was part of one of his family’s various estates dotted across the country and his favorite, due to its location near the university where he worked (at his leisure), and its closeness to his only relative he actually cared about.

“My uncle—he has passed. Of complications caused from tuberculosis, I've been told. I was the only family member placed in his will, therefore it falls to me to settle all remaining affairs he may have overlooked,” he said, letting you help him into his heavy, wool coat he left on a hook near the front door. At his side was a hulking suitcase; one he often used for trips that were days—weeks away from home, from you. “He was a far more private man than I, so there's no telling what I'll come across while I'm there. I cannot tell you how long I'll be away. I'm sorry.”

You expected nothing less from him. This man who had only ever touched you once, on your wedding day. He did everything that he was supposed to: tonelessly regurgitate scripted vows he committed to memory, hold your hands, and kiss you at the altar for more than two seconds but less than five, and then gently lead you away once both families were pleased with the performance.

Right after, now as newlyweds, he poured bourbon into exquisite crosshatch crystalware and examined the glistening amber under wan lamplight. He apologized for kissing you, that he wouldn't have had at all if it hadn't been so important for your families.

At the time, it made you feel very ugly and undeserving of the silk and ornate lacework decorating your body. The gold band fitted around your finger was a lofty symbol of acquired wealth, heavy and unforgiving.

“Write to me every once and a while,” was all you could think to say at present, managing your composure well enough as he gripped the handle of his suitcase and leaned into its heftiness on that side. “It'd just be nice to know how you're doing. If you find anything interesting. When you'll be coming home. It gives me something to look forward to.”

“I'll try to,” he said, but looked through you, pierced you, as though trying to see something else. You saw this look most often at events or parties where he'd fixate on a specific point (usually you) and seem to recede inside himself, into his thoughts, perhaps trying to dissect them or make them congeal into something linear.

“Uncle was an eccentric man. There's no telling what he's left behind for me to find. I must go. Be well, my dear.”

Once again, he left you behind without remorse.

Four months passed with agonizing, gripping slowness from the crisp mornings of late autumn into the icy vise of winter and a shimmering white-blue landscape outside your windows. In those days, you occupied yourself as best you could with guests and alcoholic merriment, whisked yourself away to parties and dinners after wringing out the invitations from friends, and spent many sleepless nights sprawled across the floor beside the fireplace coveting self-pleasure.

You imagined it was your husband there with you, immediately a renewed man after his return and finding you boundlessly desirable, fucking you with his cock rather than the freezing metal dildo you thrust inside yourself.

Even once you were finished, fucked out by your own hand and the object gaping you wide, you kept masturbating until you lost sensation, the motions and metal numbing you inside—until the intimacy and thrill of self-discovery had lost meaning to you.

Sometimes, you were found the next morning by a maid like that: thoroughly debauched with the phallus having rolled away nearby or still shallowly pressed inside. You only needed to threaten her livelihood once for her to never speak of it, pretend each time she hadn't witnessed a regrettable case of personal depravity.

It'd eventually become a frequent enough sight to her that she knew better than to look directly at you when she entered the room. Rather, now, she carried a laundered pair of trousers in with her. They were draped neatly over a bent arm, along with a warm and soapy rag in her hand, which she used to lightly clean you of dried fluids. Afterward, she helped you into the new garment.

“You have received a letter from the Master,” she said unexpectedly one morning, after fastening your pants and tucking your blouse inside them. “It's strange, though, because it doesn't feel like a letter. Not enough… substance. Shall I open it for you?”

“No! No, that's alright.” You took the long, pale envelope from her once she revealed it to you, realizing that she was right. There was nothing to it. Light as a feather, but completely sealed on the back with his personal emblem hastily stamped, or more appropriately, smeared, with red wax dribbling away from center towards the bottom of the envelope as if sudden jerkiness had unsteadied his focused pour.

You flipped the thing front to back several times, testing the way the opposite ends fluttered from nothingness within, and glanced aside to your maid.

She looked to be just as thrown.

“You're sure this is from him?” you asked, bemused. “Who delivered this?”

“Why, a courier on horseback, of course!” she said with conviction, so you knew she wasn't lying to you at that moment. It wasn't her habit to weave tales to get a rise out of her employers, anyway. “I even spoke to the courier for a while because I made a comment about it being so light. He wasn't sure about it, either, but the description of the man who hired him matched the Master almost exactly.”

You had found a letter opener on the desk nearby and made a quick cut under the wax to break the seal without ripping the envelope itself.

“Almost? What does that mean here?” you raised the intact flap with the messy seal attached, freeing all of the residual tracks of wax from the paper so that they fell to the hardwood below like pebbles shaken out of a shoe after a stroll through the yard. “The man was either my husband or he wasn't.”

The maid tried to subdue her intrigue of the envelope, turned, and moved onto bunching up the soiled sheet you'd spread out on the floor last night. “Please don't misunderstand. It was him. But, the courier described him as ‘a very interesting and friendly fellow to converse with’.”

“What?”

You were responding to two things simultaneously right then: what your maid had just told you, and the fact that the only content inside the envelope was a single shred of paper torn from an unlined journal.

The maid fluttered back over to your side as you plucked out the slither of paper, letting the envelope fall freely from your hand to the floor. Leaning into your proximity, she read aloud the same three words that your eyes skimmed:

“Father Marius DuMonde.”

Just as you had done before with the envelope, you flipped the scrap back and forth as though trying to magically flip something into existence. Your husband's handwriting was recognizable in the lettering, but it was impatient; scrawled across a page in one journal in his vast collection like he hurriedly walked past, and then ripped it out.

Nothing else was revealed to you in the seconds after, nor in your long, contemplative stare.

“Who is that?” you asked the maid to alleviate a fast yawning gap of uneasiness beginning to make you fidget and fluster. “A priest?”

The maid beamed in awe of your fast deductive skills and nodded eagerly. “It would seem that way! The city has more places of worship than it does homes for the hungry and sick. Although, I suppose a church offers some of those services.” However, the lightness sank out of her face when you didn't reciprocate that enthusiasm whatsoever. “You’re unhappy? What's wrong?”

“My husband is a scholar. A rigid man of science,” you said, bending over to pick up the discarded envelope to closer examine the disastrous wax seal. “He denounces faith in all forms. Why did he write a priest's name to me?”

That maddening thought followed you for days afterward, sufficiently distracting you from all the regular vices you'd come to rely on to fill the void of your husband's absence. Fulfill the needs he'd never tried to meet even while he was around.

You spent your days brooding in the window seats in whichever room was warmest, molding against their domed shape while leaning a cheek flush to frigid glass, eyes bloodshot and watering against the sun’s searing neon reflecting off of a lawn of undiluted, glittering white.

Seldomly, a finch or small vermin would come into your view—hopping or lunging through the snow, making tracks, digging holes, disturbing your beautiful wonderland and almost arousing you into unreasonable outbursts which then inevitably became the servants responsibility to contend with, should any be nearby to provoke you.

It was the early evening during one of your normal watches, just after dinner and a glass of red wine, when a great clamor carried swiftly to you from the foyer of the main entrance. The servants’ voices were a feverish amalgam of nonsensical babbling, high-pitched, and accommodating in a way that made you think of groveling dogs with flattened ears, wagging and tucked tails, bellies upturned to their masters.

“Come! Come quickly!” called your maid from the sitting room door, her shrill, excitable voice a violent jostling in your head, scrambling your thoughts and anger with it. “Master has returned! He's asking for you.”

You delayed the reunion, waiting several minutes after she had gone before standing. You realized that the anticipation you felt swelling in your chest, rising like growth—a malignant tumor into your throat, thickening your tongue and fouling your taste and smell, was because you were uneasy, haunted by the cryptic message he had presumably sent you weeks ago.

A while later, you entered the foyer to see most of the staff had already dispersed and the ones left behind were your husband’s most loyal. There among them, speaking so unremarkably, so casually in a way you'd never witnessed, was your husband. His good spirits and animated gestures as he handed off all his things to many hands were an odd sight, staggeringly unlike his typical dour.

So, the rumor was true. There was something discomforting in that.

Whatever topic he'd been engaged in fell wayside once he took sight of you: standing, waiting, subtly shifting your weight, picking your overgrown cuticles to remedy how nervous you truly felt in that moment. You'd always been a little uncertain of how to deal with him as he was hardly affable, but this—

“Oh my… there you are, my sweet!” his voice was exactly the same, but his way of speaking was too jarring, almost lilting. Unnatural. No one else seemed to notice. “I was worried you may have been cross with me for being away for so long. As it turned out, uncle had far more beneath the surface to find than I once thought. But, all is well! The old man has been laid to rest forever. The estate is in the right hands. I've come back to you.”

Could this man really be your husband?

He came to you in brisk strides with a certain clumsiness to the way he moved, somewhat off. You thought about seasoned drunkards who could walk along a path, but never on a straight line without gently swaying on and off of it. Mostly in control, but never so well to appear normal.

But, you didn't detect that stiff, hot, fermented reek of alcohol on his breath nor any subtle odor sticking to his clothes as he gripped you tight in an embrace. The only one he'd ever given you. Where you should have been over the moon in joy at his profound change in heart, the little sweetness was like an anchor—arms of a sinewy willow pinning you to an even stronger trunk.

“God, you're breathtaking.” He even sounded winded as he spoke, lifting your face up with both hands to see his dark, dark gleaming eyes. You startled from his cold touch, fingertips pinpricks of pure frost and ice as they pushed into your skin, but you felt trying to reach much deeper than that. “Come with me, my love. Let me show you just how much I've missed you.”

As if fantasy had become real, he fucked you relentlessly that night next to the fireplace, consuming you so completely that every orgasm made your insides churn in agony.

He laved at you with his entire mouth, tongue and teeth hardest at work while his hands bruised and fondled you, fingers thrusting up into your tight hole oozing his saliva and your arousal. It was shameful to think that it took this sort of handling from another person to get you off, squeal like a sow.

He fucked you however he could, wherever he could. Rutting you from behind and against furniture, pressing your bare chest flush to frosted over window panes to make your nipples erect and ache from the cold biting them. Then, you were settled on his lap in front of a mirror hanging adjacent across the bedroom, his thighs spreading you wide open before your own reflection where you watched his cock plunge deep, filling you to the base of his shaft, balls slapping your sticky skin.

“Touch yourself, darling.” His throat rumbled, turning over stones and shards of glass, overall sounding very husky. There was something of wheeze that trailed the end of his every word, like he’d been patched for a long time. “Touch yourself. Watch yourself while you do it. Fuck yourself like the whore you are.”

Although the things he said were horribly uncouth, unbefitting of a man of his status and who you'd known him to be, there was great allure in hearing him, obeying his wants. You'd only had one glass of wine that evening, but your head and body warmed and buzzed like you'd had several.

His voice was a raspy whisper in your ears, seeping deep into your mind; spreading; fitting the grooves of your brain like the slow sprawl of sap through the gaps in bark. You were hardly yourself those minutes, those hours onward where you witnessed your reflection stroking throbbing parts, moaning, weeping, cumming until it hurt, and then doing it all over again.

The person in the mirror seemed to be someone completely different, whether simply disassociation from yourself or some hallucination evoked by exhaustion and ecstacy. Your husband had faded into the background, his voice creating sounds and noises, holding the cadence of language while seeming entirely unprobable, unknowable to you.

You couldn't understand him, yet you could, and the things he said were vile and disgusting and moralless. He told you of every way he'd like to fuck you, watch you be fucked; but, mostly, he wanted you to fuck yourself with the bulbous bedposts, the metal phallus held under lashing flames to be inserted next to his own cock.

He suggested orgies where the servants could take turns with you. He had almost convinced you to call for your maid so he could watch you suck on her breasts and lick her clit, while he rammed you from the back. He suggested drugs and whores, robbing the mortuaries, and worse and worse and worse and worse…

The next morning, you were stiff and immobile, bedridden unless two servants came into your room to help you squat on the commode. Your abdomen was tender and your genitals were untouchable, forcing you to lie in bed without undergarments to alleviate the raw chafing that could happen with fabric.

“I'm sorry, my darling. I—I lost control of myself. I got carried away,” your husband confessed later on, his sallow complexion keeping a weird, waxy sheen to it. A mask that fits, but not quite perfectly. Some of his former somber nature had returned to him as he sat on the edge of your bed, caressing the side of your face. He was still ridiculously cold. “Forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't realize just how desperate I was to see you again until you were in my arms. And then—and then, it was like it was all a dream.”

You thought the very same. You could believe he forgot himself in an uncharacteristic blaze of lust, as men were never taught to be any other way, and most men couldn't fathom the level of restraint he’d had until last night.

Everything else, you'd wanted to believe, was simply imagined after drinking more than you once thought and getting inside your own head full of sinful indulgences.

Still, one thing bothered you: Father Marius DuMonde.

“I need you to go to the city and find him. And show him this paper. Explain to him everything that you know, you hear?” You'd handed your maid the old envelope and scrap of paper, and handed her a generous bag of coins from your own safe. She looked at you, everything else, in bewilderment. “Don't ask questions. If you're able, bring him back here. Beg him if you must. If it's all nothing, he will simply be an honored guest we feed well, house, and send off gracefully the next day. Should it be something…”

“Are you afraid of him? The Master?” asked the maid, perhaps out of faithfulness to him. Perhaps out of devotion to you the most. “What do you think happened at his uncle's estate?”

It would all be speculation and unjustified gossip without proof, of which you had none. So, you told her that you couldn't be sure of anything right now. “Wait until sundown. Take the old pony in the stables, the one that usually lags behind all the rest. Be silent. Be careful.”

The maid did as you asked and left right before the final light was extinguished by indigo nightfall. You were able to move to one of the windows, seating yourself gingerly, watching her lead the sluggish old pony into cover of tree tops and then nothing else.

But, five days later, the maid hadn't returned from her mission, nor had you received any correspondence from her, nor the priest that she was supposed to retrieve.

A week after that, it was revealed to you that neither she or the old pony had made it out of the woods. The details of the old pony were so gruesome you couldn't bear to remember them. But, the maid was found nearly decapitated, head twisted around to face backwards, her pale skin hideously purple and black and swelled where it had been stretched like a strap of wrung leather. It was mentioned she had been disemboweled as well, but you promptly burst into tears and ran from the room before the visiting coroner could finish speaking, leaving him to discuss the rest with just your husband.

That night, you lay next to your husband in bed. The deep silence of night filled your ears with static and crunching cotton, whereas a hum resonated inside your head, your chest, seeping into your bones like a cold blanket of rainfall. The black air took on weird shapes: imagined appendages curling, reaching across the ceiling towards the bed, towards you. Your eyes couldn't focus enough to ward them off, nor the depth of dark your husband's silhouette had at your side.

He was faced the other way, his clothes back to you, completely unmoving. You ventured closer to listen for the thin breathing of sleep, the automatic rise and fall of his body, and yet he could've been mistaken as one of the dead. As dead and gnarled as your maid.

“Who are you?” you asked him. Asked the swirling nothingness in the room. “Where is my husband?”

“You've nothing to worry about, my sweet,” he said readily, so clearly anticipating to have your voice ring out at some point in the night. “He is here with me. Such a selfish, unlovable man. I am the one worthy of this vessel and you. Not he.”

Then, he rolled on top of you and kissed you deeply. Your bedclothes were shucked from your bodies and he pushed your thighs apart to seat himself inside of you. He took you with greedy thrusts, face fitted against the arch of your neck where his breath left a moist film across your skin, but the rest of him was freezing.

Your whimpers of pains were dwarfed by his hot moans into your flesh, teeth suddenly sharper and sinking deep when he bit into your neck. You were trapped staring at the ceiling, wrapped in agony and pleasure, feeling his body under your fingertips beginning to distort and change into something far more monstrous.

a/n; the upcoming story is meant to be my take on the whole possession subgenre in horror. if you're interested in reading it, I suggest you stick around my blog bc I do intend to start working on the actual story here in the next month or so!!

also, father marius dumonde is the same priest from my vampire priest x reader fic—of flesh sin. so, father shaw will be making a reappearance in it.

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Title: Dreams of Her

Warning(s): SMUT. MDNI. P in V, Oral, female receiving. Unprotected sex. 18+ Wrap it before you tap it.

Character(s): Joel Miller, Female X Reader, Sarah Miller mentioned, Mrs. Adler mentioned, and Ellie.

Everything italicized is a dream! Bold print = dialogue prompts. Credit for prompts @ the other woman-Emily.

MY WORK IS NOT TO BE SHARED, TRANSLATED, OR POSTED TO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS. ©️

The cool Wyoming air whipped through the open window, causing Joel to stir awake. He rubbed his face, trying to see what time it was. The old analog clock on his nightstand read 2:02 AM. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stared at the floor.

His body cracked and popped as he slowly stood up out of bed, and closed the window. The fully functional small town of Jackson was sound asleep; other than the men who had to take watch. It was hard to find sleep most nights, but Joel wanted nothing more than to rest his achy, tired body.

But before he could get back into bed, he had to check on Ellie. Never in a million years did he think he’d have the opportunity to live a (somewhat) normal life after the outbreak. He never thought he would get the chance to check on someone he cared about again.

The old wood door creaked as he peered around it, finding Ellie sound asleep at her window seat— uncovered. Joel quietly walked over and covered her shivering body with her comforter, and was able to leave without waking her.

Anytime he woke up, he couldn’t go back to bed until he checked around the house. He wasn’t afraid— he was just taking extra precautions.

After a quick scan throughout the house, Joel felt safe enough to crawl back into bed. No sooner than he pulled his blankets up, he was out. At night, memories would plague his dreams- especially the bad ones. However, tonight was one of the rare one’s where he dreamed of you.

Back in Austin, Joel had built a porch swing. Sarah had requested one be built for her to sit and swing on during the summer. Joel would do anything to make his daughter, his number one priority, happy.

It was May 24th of 2002 when Joel had finally decided to start on the porch swing; it would be built just in time for Sarah to have it for the first day of her summer break. She was at school and Joel had went to the hardware store and came back to the house to see you sitting on the porch steps.

You were wearing a yellow sundress, and your hair was curled and pinned back. Joel loved seeing you on his porch steps looking like a goddess.

When you seen him pull into the driveway, you had a big smile on your face. You jumped up from the porch steps and ran into his open arms. He pressed a kiss to your lips, “Hey there darlin’. Have ya been waitin’ long?” He questioned and you shook your head.

“Nope. I got here five minutes ago.” You said and he pulled you close into his body. Joel could still faintly smell your Vanilla perfume. “I love you in that dress.” He mumbled against your glossed lips.

You smiled up at him, “I don’t think your neighbor does. She asked me if I wanted to borrow one of her cardigans. Said there’s s’pose to be a cold spell coming soon.” Joel instantly knew what neighbor you were referring to— Mrs. Adler. He has had multiple conversations with her about you; most of them being about how young you were.

“Joel, she’s a little young don’t cha think?”

“People might think she’s your daughter.”

However, you were 22 years old, and he was 32 years old. That made you thirteen years older than Sarah, and ten years younger than him. But no matter how much he tried to explain to Mrs. Adler that you were much older than Sarah, she would still tell him,

“Now, Joel, that young lady is still wet behind the ears. You can’t expect her to stick around long—she’s young, and naive right now.” On multiple occasions, Mrs. Adler had tried to talk sense into you, but you never talked back and always respected what she had to say.

Joel admired you for that, and at times, you would try to gain the neighbors approval by helping her in the garden, or helping with her mother.

Joel couldn’t help but to smile, “I think she forgets this is Texas. We aren’t going to have a cold spell for a while.” He pulled a couple of sacks from the inside of the truck, and walked them over to the porch.

“What are you going to build, J?” You asked and Joel reached out for your hand.

“A porch swing for Sarah. She’s been beggin’ for one for awhile now.” He said as he led you up the steps, and pointed where the swing would go.

“Oh, she’ll love that! It would be the perfect spot to read a book, or to drink coffee in the morning.” You said as you sat on the porch banister. Joel’s right leg went in between your legs, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His hands held your waist, “That would be nice. A hot cup of coffee in the morning, or seeing you on it when I come home from work.” You smiled as his palm flatted against your bare thigh, and moved upwards under your dress. Joel shamelessly planted kisses along your jawline, and then traced down your neck. You shuddered as his lips delicately danced around the sensitive skin.

“Someone might see us, Joel..” you whispered as his finger tips traced your laced panties. “No one’s going to see us.” He murmured. His lips connected to yours, and your fingers tugged at his dark brown hair; this encouraged him to go even further.

Joel spread your legs just enough for him to slip a finger into your panties, and between your slick folds. A breathy moan escaped past your lips; this was music to Joel’s ears.

Before he could go any further, the squeaking sound of Mrs. Adler’s screen door made the two of you jump apart. If Joel wouldn’t have caught your leg, you would’ve fell in the bushes. “Hi Mrs. Adler!” He shouted and she waved at him.

“Just checking the mail! Don’t mind me!” She shouted back, and both you and Joel chuckled.

He helped you down from the banister and lead you into the quietness of his home. The Miller home was far from being fancy, but you always told him his home was more homey and comforting than yours.

Your father was some big time military General; he often lived in different countries while you and your mom stayed in Texas. But now he was home for the next couple of years, and you talked about how hard he could be on you. Your father expected big things from you, and that’s why you were studying to become a clinical psychologist.

Did your father know about him? Yes. Joel had met your father on a couple of occasions and he did not approve of Joel. Number one, ‘he was too old’. Number two, ‘he had a child’. And number three, ‘he was simply not good enough for you’. Despite your father’s wishes, you stayed with Joel.

It was hard to get alone time with Joel, because on weekends, school breaks, and any time after 3 PM, he was in full dad mode. Joel had told Sarah some stuff about you, but as far as she knew, you were just a good friend.

Joel closed the front door behind him, and you sat down on the arm of the couch. The cool leather against your skin made you shiver. Slowly, you pulled the pins from your hair, and beckoned him to come to you. The scent of your perfume drove him crazy; all he wanted to do was take you right then and there.

He knelt down in front of you, both hands running up and down your legs agonizingly slow. His dark brown eyes looked up through his lashes, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your knee, then up to your thigh.

Joel’s calloused hands rested on your thighs, and then without a notice, his fingers hooked under the thin lacy fabric of your panties. He slid them down your legs letting the air hit your wet core. A smile broke out across Joel’s face as he slid you closer to him, his head now underneath your dress. He pressed a kiss to the inner part of your thigh, and then pressed a gentle kiss to where you wanted him the most.

Your hands went to his hair as his tongue flattened and tasted you. When the tip of his tongue danced around your clit, it made you push yourself back from the sudden warmth of pleasure.

Joel pulled you down to sit on the couch rather than the arm of the piece of furniture; his face never left your core. His hands flattened against your thighs, and kept a strong grip on them; Joel didn’t want you to move an inch from his mouth.

“Oh, Joel.” You whimpered as his tongue delve into you.

There was one thing Joel loved more than having you on his cock, and it was tongue fucking you. Your breathing would turn into short breaths, and you would moan his name over and over like a sweet song. His thumb started massaging your clit in a circular motion, “I want you to finish baby.” He mumbled against your wet cunt.

When he realized that you weren’t getting close, he swirled his tongue around your clit. You squirmed underneath his hands but he held you still— bruises would surely form. Joel teased your clit, causing you to pull him closer into you.

Your body shook underneath his grasp and against his lips as he continued to lap up your juices. When you arched your back, Joel knew you were about to finish. “Joel, I’m about to..”

Before you could finish your sentence, Joel pulled away, lips glistening with you. He scooped you up off the couch bridal style, and took you up the stairs and into his room.

Joel sat you on the edge of his bed, his lips red and puffy from his previous activity. His left hand steadied himself on the bed while his right hand played with the spaghetti strap of your sundress.Your nose brushed against Joel’s, and his lips ghost over yours; the strap to your dress tickled down your arm, exposing your hard nipple to him.

His thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted the pebbled skin, and he connected his lips to yours. Your lips moved against his softly—during days like these, Joel preferred to take things slow. It was only 8AM, he had all the time in the world to make love to you. He pulled the other strap of your dress down, and started pulling your dress up over your hips. You pulled away from his lips, and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. Then you started working on unbuckling the belt from his jeans, “So impatient, darlin’.”

“I’m more than patient. You left me hangin’ downstairs.” You responded, and Joel stopped your hands.

“Watch the attitude, sweetheart. Don’t make me fuck it out of you.” his Texas accent laid the words on thick. His thumb tilted your chin back so he could look you in the eyes.

You smiled up at him, and continued to pull his jeans down. His cock was already throbbing from the site of you, and when your hand gently brushed over the bulge in his boxers, it twitched. With a devious smile, you pushed yourself back on the bed and spread your legs. Joel knew what you were doing; you were going to try to punish him for the little stunt he pulled downstairs.

Your hands trailed between your legs, and your fingers ran between your slick folds. He watched you intently, as you brought your fingers to your lips, tasting yourself. Joel groaned at the site in front of him. “Use your words, Joel. Tell me, what you want.” You teased, using the words he used to you in bed.

Joel chuckled, “I want you to keep doin’ what your doin’.” But you shook your head, “Not good enough, Joel. Tell me what you want me to do.”

His eyes darkened, “I want you to put your hand between your legs, and insert one finger at a time until I tell you to stop.” He commanded, he was slowly taking back control.

You obeyed his words, and your hand slowly traced from your stomach, down between your legs, gathering the wetness on your fingers.

Joel pulled down his boxers, his cock springing out. You drooled at the site of him standing in front of you, waiting for you to do what he said.

Languidly, you inserted one finger inside of yourself, and slowly pulled it in and out of you. Joel took his cock in his hands and started pumping himself as you added a second finger.

When you added a third finger, the idea of taking things slow was left behind. Joel crawled across the bed, and pushed you down into the mattress. He hovered over your body, and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. Your dress was discarded as Joel sat up.

He pulled you by your calves and angled you up, “Look at that pussy. So wet for me.” Joel guided his cock to your entrance, teasing your clit with the tip. You could feel the warmth of pre-cum rub against you, “Oh Joel…” you whimpered.

“I love it when you whimper my name.” He said as he pushed the tip into your tight cunt. A groan escaped past his lips, “So fuckin’ tight.”

His cock pushed deeper inside you. With every push, your grip tightened on his forearms, and your legs trembled in his hands.

You released your grasp on his forearms, and started massaging your breasts; it was something Joel loved to see you do while he fucked you senseless.

The stretch around his cock stung, but when he looked at you for confirmation to move, you gave him a small nod. Slowly, his hips rocked up into you, and his gaze was fixed upon you. Joel’s pace had quickened, and the squelching sounds of your pussy suctioning to him was erotic; it fed fuel to the fire that was burning between you two.

“I love watching you take in every inch of my cock into that perfect body.” He groaned as he watched himself go in and out of you.

When he gazed back up at you, your eyes were closed tight, lost in pure euphoria. He released your legs, and spread them further apart, so he could move between them.

His body hovered over yours, and he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered opened as his cock rested inside you, and he kissed along your neck and back to your jawline.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whimpered and Joel resumed back to thrusting into you. Your mouth gaped as Joel sucked on your neck, surely leaving a hickey behind.

“Everyone is gonna know who you belong to.” He mumbled, and his pace started to slow down. “I want you to finish on my cock, baby.” He whispered into your ear.

Joel could feel you tighten around his pulsating cock, and when a lewd sound left your lips, he knew you were chasing your high. “Come for me.” He whispered and you were shaking underneath him. His lips connected to yours as he spilled inside of you; he rocked into you until he couldn’t anymore.

With his free hand, he pushed back a strand of hair that was stuck to your forehead. He pulled out of you and pulled the bed sheet to cover your naked bodies. When he laid back into the pillows, you moved over and rested your head above his heart.

Joel pulled you close into his body and he caressed your back, his fingers gingerly touching you.

The two of you laid there in silence, looking over at the breeze that was moving the curtain back and forth. “I miss you.” You whispered, and Joel’s fingers froze over your shoulder blade.

“Darlin’, I’m right here.” He said. You sat up on your elbow so you could look him in the eyes.

“I miss you so much my heart hurts.” Tears filled your eyes and Joel sat up. “I didn’t want to go with him, I- I wanted to go with you. It wasn’t my choice, my father said we would come back for you, and we- we didn’t.” You sobbed.

Joel stared at you in bewilderment, “What are you talkin’ about, Y/N?”

“He took me away from you the night of the outbreak. Don’t you remember Joel? I was with you, Tommy, and Sarah. I was there when they shot her. I was there when you cradled her body. Did you know my father shot me on command?”

Joel woke up and he gasped for air. He looked towards the right side of his bed where you should have been, but the space was empty. His heart pounded in his chest, and all he could do was stare at the empty side of his bed.

The sun was shining through a space in the curtain, and he looked over at his clock: 8:01 AM. He rubbed his face as he stepped out of bed and opened his night stand.

Joel was only able to save a few pictures; a couple of Sarah and then a photo of you from the day you wore that yellow sundress. You were sitting on the new porch swing and Joel was right next to you, his arm slung around your shoulders, watching you smile at the camera. In the photograph, he was smiling at you smiling, and he was glad Mrs. Adler caught this moment.

The dreams he had of you, never ended like that. He often wondered where you were, or what happened to you. Joel knew your father would have protected you over anyone else, and he hoped you were still alive and thriving.

Regardless of what was going on in this apocalyptic world, when he thought of you, he hoped you were safe. Sometimes, when Joel found himself alone and it was quiet, he would pray that you were out there alive, and that your paths would cross.

He took the picture downstairs with him as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. The photo was worn and faded; the back was yellowed, but in black ink, he could still read your words.

“Joel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you. Forever and Always, Y/N.”

Ellie came up behind him to pull a cup out of the cupboard. “Who’s that?” She asked and Joel looked down at your smiling face.

“She’s a story for another time.” He said with a sad, small smile. Ellie stared at the picture on the counter, but she knew better than to pester Joel about it.

You were one of the last things he had that was good. The idea of keeping you to himself, made him feel like you were still alive. Saying what happened that night out loud, made him believe otherwise.

Joel picked up the picture and placed it in the pocket of his shirt, that rested above his heart. Maybe one day, your paths would cross.

I don’t know how to feel about this one. I’m semi-comfortable with writing smut, but I fear I’m not GOOD at it. I was nervous to post this, but oh well. 👀Part 2 maybe? Or should we end it here? Thank for reading! Comments, likes, and reboots are always welcomed and appreciated!

[witchyliterature]

GOOD AND PLENTY: K.B

witchy tip

➤ eating pomegranate with strong magical intentions in mind can help manifest what you want

18. difficile ad amorem

m.list

breakfast has been set and katsuki did not come to play. your dad assumed by his rush to do the breakfast that he was definitely good - but as soon as he took the first bite, he rushed to finish it.

hell, katsuki surely was husband material, he might keep this love spell just to allow himself to get some good food.

you yourself was no better, the sounds of you gobbling up the food was the only thing heard from you. your eyes had a narrow focus, which was the breakfast in front of you and only that.

“katsuki bakugou, please marry my daughter if you would like!” your dad’s muffled voice was barely registrable.

“what?! don’t go making statements like that!” you exclaimed, your voice equally as muffled as you both stuffed your mouthy to the fullest capacity.

“that’s the plan, sir” katsuki smirked, outting his hand in his sweatpant pockets.

you instantly looked at him shocked. with how awkward the morning was, you assumed that he wouldn’t even look at you as your dad made that comment. clearly, the love spell is still at work.

“anyways, let me get started on your situationship, then i can continue to eat well!” your dad chuckled as you groaned in embarrassment, your dad and you only met yet he was already as cringe as a dad could be.

“alright, sit down in front of my katsuki.” your dad asked softly, to which katsuki confusingly followed.

your dad looked into his eyes, it was a whirlpool between pink and red. his eyes flickered, would then return to normal, only to flicker again in a quick repetition.

“right, i’m going to do something first to check what the hells going on with his eyes.” your dad muttered, to which you nodded vigorously.

your dad put his hands on katsuki’s head, muttering things in latin and before you knew it, katsuki passed out with a projection of his soul coming out of his body, his resting face was a scowl so you knew this was the orginal katsuki.

“y/n l/n, i am going to fucking murder you when i get back. i swear, ill make you suffer.” katsuki’s soul seethed as he turned to face you.

“shit, katsuki, im so sorry! i really-“

“you fucking embarrassed me for weeks! everyone sees me as this stupid lover boy that’s obsessed over you.” katsuki’s seethed yelled back, his voice having a slight echo.

“oh get over yourself katsuki’s, is being seen in love with me that torturous for you?” you rolled your eyes.

“that’s not the fucking issue and you know it.” katsuki’s angrily replied.

you looked at him skeptically, was that a confession? or did he simply mean he doesn’t care that much about what other people think about you two? either way sounds to have romantic connotations.

“then what is?” you asked.

“the fact- you know what, fuck this. get me out and lemme talk to her fact to face, old man.” katsuki looked at your dad as he responded.

“old man is crazy considering im your crushes father but whatever.” you father muttered immaturely.

katsuki looked slightly flustered as he said that, turning to face you and see your reaction only to still look skeptical.

your father then sent his soul into his body and started the ritual through putting a glass charm of a heart onto katsuki’s chest and hovering his hands while a soft glow emmitted from it.

“this doesn’t usually happen you know, once you do a love spell, that’s it, it cannot be broken unless powerful mages or the person itself have the power to stop it.” your dad explained.

“then why does-“

“because, for some reason, his soul and body rejected it. i don’t know how it worked, he clearly already had feelings for you, otherwise the spell wouldn’t have worked so quickly and so powerfully, but his soul was constantly fighting the spell. his spirit was simply too strong compared to the dosage you gave him, and trust me, i can sense that it was a lot.” you dad further explained.

you looked at him and started to understand. katsuki has always been a fighter, it makes sense that his spirit too also wanted to fight.

but, this whole thing about feelings. you knew he had them for you beforehand. you’re just so confused why he never told you? why he flirted with that second year that practically started it all? why he always seemed to make you a second choice?

the sound of a crack broke you out of your thoughts, you looked and saw that heart chart was broken - indicating that the love spell was broken.

katsuki’s eyes fluttered awake, he started to wake up as small groans escaped his lips. with his true soul being dormant for a while, it felt weird finally seeing things with his own eyes rather than was felt like to be a glass mirror.

“katsuki..” you said softly, getting up to walk up to him.

“fuck, i- i need to go for a drive.” katsuki suddenly spoke, his nerves for some reason shot through the roof, and so he sped to the hallway, grabbed his keys and immediately left.

you called out for him, but he has no response, marching his way to his car and driving off quickly.

“leave him, he will come back, don’t worry.” you father advised you.

you sighed, you knew he would, katsuki never left forever. but it sucked that the first time in a while you were seeing him again, he did what he always did and ran from his emotions.

you just hoped that when he came back, a different song would play for you two.

[writersblockiskillingme]

I NEED GI HUN X F! READER PLEASEEEEEE

There’s barely anything for him:((

It can be literally anything but rn I’m craving comfort so maybe Gi Hun comforts his girl when she starts crying and she can’t really explain what’s wrong

Comfort | Seong Gi-hun x reader

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x fem!reader

Summary: You knew that hunting down the salesman was going to be difficult, but after everything that you've been through in the games alongside Gi-hun, sometimes everything feels like it's going to suffocate you. Luckily, he's always there for you.

Warning/s: angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff, short fic, just two traumatized people trying to heal each other, PTSP (talking about the games), death, tears, sadness, depressed atmosphere, cigarette addiction, cursing (?), mourning, guns, hunting down the salesman, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So I finally got out of the writer's block, and I found some spare time, so I finally sat down to write. I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it! More to come.

Being his friend was easy. Being in love with him was even easier.

Once the games came around, everything became more complicated. I simply never thought that something like this was going to happen. Working in a job position that I did never brought me much money. Sure, it was enough to bring some food on my table and to cover the bills, but it wasn't anything big. However, once I found myself drowning in debt, I found myself in a horrific situation with no way out.

The money that I earned was not enough for respectable food, I couldn't pay my landlord for a few months, and I was a few weeks away from being kicked out on the streets. Not to mention the debt for which it seemed like I never paid enough to get out of. I thought moving back to Korea would somehow help me at least to escape the loan sharks and pay for necessary things, but I couldn't imagine how wrong I would be.

That's when I met him. The Salesman. Playing the ddakji with him for some money earned me some food for that night, but it also gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. It was an opportunity that I now know I would have never taken if I had known what was waiting for me out there once I called the number at the back of the card that he gave me.

Before the first game, I saw him. My old childhood friend Seong Gi-hun. Up until I saw him, I came to a realization about just how much I missed him.

Truth to be told, I have always felt something more than friendship for him ever since I was I kid. At first, I brushed it off, but when I entered my teenage years, I realized that I really loved him.

I had to move away when I was twenty years old. I haven't seen him ever since. I only heard a few snippets about his life during the years I spent away from Korea. I heard that he had a, now ex, wife, and a daughter.

It was his mother who called me. She used to watch over me sometimes when we were kids, and since I was her son's best friend back then, we kept in touch over the years. It was nice, to be honest. Up until the day that she called me for a regular check-up. I had just gotten off of work after a really bad day. I had just sat down by the kitchen counter when I heard my phone ringing. The entire time I was on a call with her, she sounded strange. Kind of nervous, maybe even a bit disappointed. After a while I couldn't take it anymore and when I asked her what was wrong she told me the joyful news.

"Gi-hun is getting married."

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. I somehow forced myself to finish the phone call, trying to sound as happy as I could, considering that the love of my life was marrying another. A few years later, he got a daughter, and I soon heard about the divorce. I tried calling him multiple times to check on him. He never answered.

We reconnected during the games. During the bloodshed. During the pain. During the tears. During the final game, where it was down to Sangwoo, him and I. After Sangwoo died, I knew I couldn't kill him. He couldn't either. After the stunt that we pulled, we survived. We were about to kill ourselves, we truly were, but then at the last second, just as the knife had scraped the surface of my neck, they announced two winners.

After that, I realized that I couldn't live without him. I didn't have a family, didn't have any friends. His mother died, and his daughter moved with her mother and stepfather to America he lost his family, too. We were everything to each other. We still are.

As the months, years, passed, we set ourselves on a mission of finding the salesman.

At first, we didn't touch the money covered with the invisible blood. We couldn't bring ourselves to do so, but when we realized that we may have a shot at taking down the games, we used the money only for that sole purpose.

The first thing we did was to pay off our debts. Then together we bought the love hotel called "Pink Motel" in Seoul. The sign outside was always tured off. We decided to buy it so we could live there and now we also use it as headquarters while tracking down the salesman. Which was always.

That was currently our only purpose in life right now.

After we figured out our plan, we started to work with the loan sharks that were chasing us because of our debts. We paid them to find the salesman, and they were searching relentlessly.

Our mental health hasn't been all that great either.

Both Gi-hun and I have developed a cigarette addiction. Sometimes all we did was breath in the intoxicating smoke instead of air. In a strange way it helped me breath. I wasn't so nervous anymore. My hands shook less.

Gi-hun has nightmares. Every single night. I have them, too, but not that frequently. He had a gun next to his nightstand. I had mine under the pillow. It brought a sense of comfort that was always short-lived.

The nightmares kept us up all night, and because of them, we couldn't find any rest even during the daytime. It was always the people we lost on that cured island. Sangwoo... Sae-byeok... Ali... The images of our friends dead never left my brain. And neither did Gi-hun's. Other times, we dreamt that we're still playing the games. Us dying. Each other dying. The Frotman. The salesman.

It was too much.

I was just monitoring the room where our most trusted men were practicing. I didn't realize when it had happened, but I fell asleep. I guess all those sleeping pills that Boss Kim gave to Gi-hun and me finally caught up to me.

I felt trapped. Gi-hun... he was dying in front of me during the squid game. I couldn't do anything about it. I held him, covered in his blood, crying, screaming, curing at the sky for the misfortune we had to live. Cursing the makers of the game. Cursing the Frontman. Cursing the pink guards that just stood there and did nothing. Cursing the world.

Hands.

They were shaking my shoulders.

My name.

It was uttered from the lips of the man that I would die for.

My eyes snapped open, meeting Gi-hun's worried ones. Once he realized that I was awake, his face visibly relaxed, relief washing over him as I heard him let out a sigh, his head and shoulders hung downwards.

"A nightmare again?" He asked me as he brought his hand up to my cheeks, whipping away the tears that I didn't know fell, but also wasn't surprised that they did.

"I-I can't-" I sobbed, unable to form a sentence as he quickly brought me in his arms, drowning me in his chest.

"Shhh..." He whispered as he ran his hand down my hair as I cried against his neck, drowning his black shirt with my tears, "I'm here. You're okay."

"Yo-You w-were-" I stuttered, tears streaming down my cheeks, "You were dying, and I-I couldn't s-save y-you."

For a moment, there was just quiet in the room. Neither spoke. The only thing breaking the silence of our bedroom were my cries.

"Do you know why I never answered your phone calls after you found out about the divorce?" He asked me, his voice low, but soft with comfort. His sudden question about that topic surprising me a bit, "Do you know why my mother told you about it instead of me? The wedding, the divorce?"

"No."

"It was because I didn't want to face the fact that I was the cause of your misery." He whispered, still softly running his hand through my hair, my cries slowly dying down as I listened to him speak.

"I have always loved you and I knew that I hurt you with my decision even though I never wanted that to happen. I just tried to forget about you, I never knew that I could actually be with you." He sighed, "I thought that it would be the best for you. I didn't deserve you, I'm not even sure I still do." He chuckled softly.

"But even though I may not deserve you, I will never stop fighting for you and your happiness. You are my everything, and I would be damned if I ever let you feel any sort of pain." He lifted my chin with his hand as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, our lips almost meeting each other's, "We will find him and end this, but for now, how about I make you some tea and we get you to bed huh, my love? What do you say?"

-

-

-

@shadow-tumbler

[dorabellingham]

Overprotect

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader

summary: when you are in the last months of pregnancy and he is being super protective and worried about everything

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You sighed heavily, sinking on the sofa in the living room with an exhausted expression. The eighth month of pregnancy was being cruel - your back hurt all the time, the heat seemed unbearable and finding a comfortable sleeping position was practically impossible. To make matters worse, Jude was more overprotective than ever.

-Darling, do you need anything? His voice echoed from the kitchen, worried as always.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to convince yourself that answering "no" would be enough for him to stop treating you as if you were made of glass. But the truth was that you really needed something.

—Water, please.

You asked, defeated.

In less than a minute, Jude was already at the room with a glass in his hand.

-Here, babe.

He said, handing over the glass and sitting next to him on the couch.

You took a sip and sighed, feeling a little relief in your dry throat. Jude, on the other hand, didn't seem satisfied.

-Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to do a massage? Or maybe a hot shower? Or...

-Jude. -You raised a hand, interrupting the flood of suggestions. -I'm pregnant, not sick.

He sighed, clearly trying to control himself.

-I know. But it's just that... I hate to see you uncomfortable and not being able to do anything.

You looked at him, your expression softening.

-You already do a lot, babe. You take care of me more than I could ask for.

He smiled small, but still looked restless. Then, without warning, he got up and took a cushion, fixing it behind your back.

-Better?

You laughed, shaking your head.

-Yes, better.

He didn't stop there. He took another cushion and put it on her lap, helping you to better accommodate your belly.

-And now?

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave that you were loving his care.

-Now it's perfect, Mr. Bellingham.

Jude settled on the couch, passing an arm around your shoulders and letting the other hand rest on your belly.

-You're already almost nine months... -He murmured, sliding his fingers lightly over the skin of your belly. -There's so little time for our baby to arrive.

You felt your heart tighten when you saw the sparkle in his eyes. Jude was so excited to be a father, so ready. He talked about the baby every day, touched your belly as if it were your greatest treasure and looked at you with a mixture of love and gratitude that made you feel like the most special person in the world.

-Are you ready to be a father?

You asked softly.

He looked at you, surprised by the question.

-I don't think I'll ever feel ready, you know? But I want to. I want more than anything else.

Your gaze softened, and you ran your fingers through his jaw, feeling the thin beard that began to grow there.

-You're going to be an amazing father, Jude.

He smiled, lightly squeezing you waist.

-And you're going to be the best mother in the world, darling.

You opened your mouth to answer, but a hook on your back made you shrink.

-Oh...

Jude was on alert at the same time.

-What was it, Y/n?! Are you feeling something?!

You let out a frustrated moan.

-My back. They're killing me.

He didn't waste time.

-Come here. Sit on your side.

—Jude...

-C'mon, babe, sit here!

He insisted softly, already getting ready on the couch so that you could settle down there.

You, knowing that arguing would be useless, straightened up on your side, feeling his warm and firm hand begin to massage your back firmly, but without hurting you.

-Better now?

He asked, while his fingers worked to relieve the tension.

You closed your eyes, relaxing against his touch.

-Very much.

Jude smiled satisfied, continuing the movements while watching his wife surrender to relief.

-Do you have any idea how much I love you?

He murmured against your ear.

You smiled, your eyes still closed.

-I Have. And I have no idea how much you spoil me.

He laughed, gently kissing the back of your neck.

-I'll always pamper you. You and our baby.

You sighed, feeling safe in his arms. The eighth month of pregnancy could be difficult, but with Jude by your side, everything seemed a little easier.

[samhadjblog2]

I like how you go on about "You need things to spelled out like a child" bit. Its the same "pretentiousness" of " You need to have a high IQ to understand rick and morty". Also I said that Caitlyn and Vi had different goals in the start of the season and its only as the season went on that they gradually developed the same goal. Its also important to note that Vi and Caitlyn while wanting the same thing also clashed with one another. (Example being Caitlyn about to shoot Isha in order to get to Jinx). And that's the thing with Arcane it wasn't just "Characters joining up" and that's it. It was "Characters with varying different goals and ideals that often had them either team up push each other away".

Again with your sentiments of "needing to spell out thing" I understand foreshadowing. However as I've stated before the scene between Jayce and Silco is talks about what the city stands for "Progress". Yes they mention "The Rune wars" and how the city was built with the idea of standing against a common foe. However I keep on telling you "This is the only point of reference of "People coming together" is about just that "Coming together" not "Coming together against a common enemy". You go on "This is so obvious" and yet everything else indicates that this wasn't the case. The conflict of the first season were both sides fighting against one another and besides this "One reference to the cities founding" nothing indicates the two sides would fight a common foe. Because up to that point there was "No" common enemy and so much of the focus was the characters fighting one another all with varying different goals. To then just say "Well here's a common enemy to fight against" is very much out of place for what this story was trying to be. My argument wasn't "This had to more specific", like you keep going on about, I just said that "One scene with Jayce and Silco isn't evidence for this being the inevitable outcome of the story". Had there been more references to this then sure "that would be foreshadowing".

Honey you going on about "You don't get how stories work just demonstrates that you have no argument and relying on "Ad Hominem's". Ambessa didn't appear with as you put "a moist ache to twirl indicating evil intent". She came with a value for strength and dominance, someone not to different then Silco. Yes she had her own intentions to get Hex-tech yes however that didn't take away from the fact she was there to support Piltover, even if it was for her own selfish intentions. If we used the same logic of "Well she appeared menacing" then Silco would of been the main antagonist that everyone rallied against. Because he did equally bad stuff as Ambessa and yet he wasn't someone that was pitted against by everyone else in the end of S1 in fact as you mentioned he even struck a deal with Jayce. Ambessa's involvement is not to different then to how America would help out other countries as a means for their own gains. While its a negotiation built off of selfish goals its still a negotiation none the less.

Here's the thing about the Hexcore again you can argue was morally questionable but acting like that this would apply to "All of Hextech" is ridiculous because so much of the negative ramifications that we were exploring this season weren't the one's with "The Hexcore" and instead its "the anomaly" which was so contrived,but more on that later.

As for the "Find out" analogy let me clear things up. Jayce uses the Hexcore and VIktor something that happened "To Viktor" not something of his own accord. (Which isn't bad, just wanting to point that out because this is a problem later on). As for the whole Jayce makes weapons part fine. However I would argue after Viktor heal Huck he is sidelined really hard after this.

However "The anomaly" is pure contrivance for instance "When was it ever established that there was a second hexgate generator. Your telling that "VIktor (WhoJayce helped built the generator) someone from the Undercity" would he not consider how the generator would affect the Undercity ?" This is full on contrivance.

AlsoIts only until "now" that the anomaly starts to have an effect on the tree ? The tree seemed pretty fine before so why now ? And this isn't a sign of 'Over-usage" because the Hex gates were shut down at the time and so its affected wouldn't of been as prominent. And it seems like the show is saying "All of Hex-tech is bad".

"Tree was never re-visited when it shown to be a serious issue". On top of that besides the one glitching of Caitlyn and Vi's hex-tech weapons "The anomaly" doesn't affect anything else and is just reduced to being a "Mcguffin for Viktor". So it simply just "negative ramifications". On top of that all its just there for is to simply fling Ekko, Heimerdinger into an alternate dimension in order for Ekko to learn a "Specific lesson to help Jinx" (Not trying to trash on the episode and I honestly think its pretty great, just that a lot of its purpose is to simply get Ekko from point A to point B in a unnatural way") Same with Jayce it was simply character development in order for him to see the dark future of the Glorious evolution and sure it was kind of interesting to see Jayce's journey parallel Viktor's life however I feel like this storyline faulters a bit in the end (More on that later).

So "The anomaly" is entire existence is just solely to get the characters where they need to be. So. A contrivance.

Jinx's not blowing up the council wouldn't of had Ambessa not take over. Ambessa is a ruthless person who is able to use deception just like her daughter she would of found a way. Also there was no guarantee that Silco would of agreed to this deal, because when he learned that he would have to give up Jinx to get what he wants he was on the fence. (Sure you could say that might of gone through with it however it was still a very complicated choice and there is some hints that he might of not gone through with it). Also the council was also on the rock about giving the Under-city sovereignty. There was a lot that would've gone wrong. And all of it could of been easily exploited by Ambessa. So I wouldn't call that a consequence of Jinx's action.

The main focus of Arcane was its politics saying that "It was about its characters" is a disservice to the show. Because so much of their goals, motivations and ideals are intrinsically tied to the conflict of Piltover and Zaun

I looked over your post. And a lot of what you said are themes of class. ". People who come from the oppressed class can, in turn, oppress their own people." A theme of class.

"People can benefit from being part of the rich/oppressor class" without realizing how they benefit from the system, and even those who see it can struggle to break from their own privilege. A theme of class

"Some people are most concerned with harm reduction while others seek radical change" A theme of class

The only one that's more interpersonal is "Sometimes, the only way to move forward is in step with the person who was just holding you back. "

Class conflicts aren't "Black and white" narratives where rebel heroes fight bad oppressive people. A lot of them do explore the themes that you brought up. And people weren't upset the story wasn't some "Black and white heroes vs bad guys" In fact a lot of people would consider the ending "Black and White". Because as I said "Saving the world is a baseline goal that tells us nothing about characters motivation". Also analogy's to Nuclear ware-fare, and a bigger nation taking advantage of a small nation are another examples of "Political themes".

My point about Warwick is that "Him loosing his agency "Again" isn't tragic it just demonstrate how meaningless his character is. Because compare it to his LoL a former gangster who wanted to turn a new leaf, only to have his past catch up to him, which led to Singe capturing him and experimented on him. All with the effort revealing the true nature of who he was. And so became a dangerous wolf-creature that killed relentlessly. However as time went on he began to come to slowly regain small fragments of his past and focused on only killing criminals. However he could not escape the beast.

Meanwhile in Arcane half of this is true he is revived he go's on a rampage (with a lot of cuts in-between fights). And as he see's Vi he immediately regains all semblance of his humanity and is able to hug it out. And then he is taken to Viktor to be fully healed and regains all of his humanity. And then when Jayce shot Viktor that is how he "Loose control", not because he's too much of a beast but because of magical circumstances. And then his memories just immediately stripped away again. Making him into a generic blank-slate. And that isn't interesting that just makes him a plot-device. A cheap excuse for the Sister to reconcile without having to truly explore their internal issues. On top of just having things happen to him instead of making meaningful choices of his own accord. His tragedy isn't because of his own choice rather its because things happen to him.

Intersting standpoint about Mel and Ambessa's confrontation.

My argument for Ekko's acceleration rune is that People say that future Viktor went back in time multiple times in order to create the right outcome for Jayce to go and save him. A lot of people point out that all of this led to Ekko using the acceleration Rune in order to get to this moment. Which again makes no sense because "The Bleak future that future Viktor came from has all of the same elements as the timeline where Ekko builds the Z-drive, because if not why are things like the broken clock tower (Something that wouldn't of happen had Ekko made the Z-drive) appear in the same dark bleak future. So I wouldn't make sense for there to have been a loop if the events of the dark future were one and the same. And so Jayce was responsible for Viktor's dark turn. I.E a self fulfilling prophecy

I'm not saying that the show "had to end with a civil-war" rather that just that it should end with the focus put squarely on the conflict between Piltover and Zaun. However if it were to go in that direction your forget that the undercity also has Shimmer and those chemtanks which would still pose a threat. Also the black rose also could've supported Zaun's independence. Which would led to a more interesting Cold-war analogy. Heck I suggested and ending where its Vi and Jayce trying to stop the war from breaking out and trying to negotiate peace talks once again.

There are many ways the show could of ended, I just think that the ending shouldn't of ended with a "Let's team up to fight a singular bad guy" trope because it lacks any real interesting meaning. I also think its important to note that a lot of people though that the show would end on a note that would have the characters end up in a similar situation that there LoL counterparts ended. Jinx continues to be a terrorist, Vi and Caitlyn continue to be enforcers, Jayce continue to make Hex-tech tools, Viktor seeks to accomplish his "Glorious evolution". Ekko uses his Z-drive to fight against both Chem-baron's and Piltover with some tension with Vi. Warwick becomes a vigilante who fights criminals in Zaun. And that there wouldn't be a "Nice happy ending."

And as I said before the story of Arcane 'is" about class conflict. As the themes you've listed indicate this to be the case. And back to my point about episode 5 onward. A lot of issues start to rear there head around here. For starters we have VI's pit fighter story be glossed over through a music-video, when it feels like this should of been an arc in of itself (It especially felt annoying since Act 1 felt like a season if of itself ). On top that the episode doesn't really delve into much of the sisters internals issues and just have them make peace. Also I'm not really a fan of Vander and Silco knowing who Felecia kind of muddles thing such as "Why didn't Vi or Silco remember each other ?". It also seems odd to have Silco at the violent attack on the bridge when it seemed like what happened between him and Vander happened before the events on the bridge. Episode 6 was alright baring the dumb Jayce shooting Viktor bit.

As I said before I enjoyed episode 7 a lot. And I enjoyed Ekko learning to not give up on a better tomorrow.

As for Jayce not shooitng Viktor my point is that "He Just met his future self" Why not go up to Viktor and try to tell him this information. Also as I said "The events in the finale lines up with the dark future Jayce just came back from". The Noxian ships, The broken clock tower, A mannequin that looks like Caitly ,as well as his future self being in the same pose as he was in the finale were in the dark future. So him shooting Viktor was a Self-fulfilling prophecy. Also Viktor wouldn't of been able to accomplish the "Glorious evolution" Singe pointed out that his powers were weakening. Also just "Having Jayce be crazy" be why he shoots Viktor is just a dumb. Its not a meaningful turn of events its just the story forcing itself into a specific direction.

Also no the "question of Zaun joining the help" kind of doesn't happen. A lot of the people from Zaun joined the fight. Because as I said "When faced with the end of the world of coarse people would say yes". A we see that Zaun already joined the fight even before Jinx brought reinforcement (Many of the people being her followers). And also this conflict isn't "The consequences of their actions" Its the consequences of Jayce being dumb and shooting Viktor instead of talking things out. And his glorious evolution has very little to do with "Piltover and Zaun". Its too much of an overbearing Ontological threat then one built from the class issues of Piltover and Zaun.

And as I said it doesn't feel like the show ended on the note of "The two cities reluctantly working together however there is still tension. Because as I said Viktor's glorious of Evolution had very little to do with the conflict between Piltover and Zaun. And so because of this when they easily united they in the fight it feels less like an awkward first step towards peace and more like just quick way to resolve everything. (Again this didn't have to conclude with a civil war, rather an ending that placed more emphasis on Piltover and Zaun and less on Viktor's glorrious evolution.)

And as I stated before I believe if they wanted to convey the idea of "Sevika being placed" as an awkward first step. I think a better of achieving this would be a scene similar to Silco and Jayce making a deal. With focus on Sevika's confliction as well as a scene similar to Jayce telling the Council about this negotiation. That would feel more engaging. Because that is what makes for meaningful political drama, and that's a Arcane is a show about class.

Yes this is a show about characters however the character's motivations were tied to class conflict of Piltover and Zaun. And so simply having the characters break away from the cycle without examining the issues that forced them into this situation. And its not like these issues should of been resolved in a year just that ending should feel more attached to these issues.

Back to my main point. Things like Heimedinger's memories whiel alluding to the dangers of the Hexcore a lot of the more negative ramifications towards hex-tech. Its not a sign that the show would end on a "Save the world narrative". Rather its meant to indicate that Viktor was going down a dark path and that he is messing with something he doesn't fully understand.

And as I've said about Silco and jayce's conversation. Its a reference of how the city should "Come together" not "Come together against a common enemy". Because if you want to argue that the show was always hinting at the two cities coming together fine I can see that. However to say its to come together to stop a world ending threat far from the case. And as I said Ambessa getting involved isn't foreshadowing that "She is the endgame villain" She was here to help Piltover as means for her own gains. Because by your own Logic Silco would be the main antagonist because he too comes off as equally menacing.

And no if there was a civil war it would be Piltover and Zaun. Because those are the two cities that have the most focus and where what the main conflict started as in the first season. And having the focus be directed towards a newly introduced threat would be cheap not matter if it were Ambessa or Viktor. Because it makes the story Black and white and not morally grey. And like I said Heimerdinger while have legit concerns for Viktor's Hexcore it still not a sign that the show would end on this note rather that he was going down a dark path.

“What happened to rebel Vi? Season 2 destroyed her character!”

“What happened to rebel Vi” is that Vander took her to the bridge where her parents died in his revolution and asked her what she was willing to lose. Then she meets Cait who is gentle and kind while still being tough and it makes her rethink how she sees topside. When Jinx tells her she changed too, that’s what she’s talking about.

I’m sorry if you thought Vi was going to be a topside-hating revolutionary in Season 2, but that’s clearly not where her character arc was going. Remember how she forced her way between Ekko and Cait? It seemed very straightforward that was the role her character was taking on.

I feel similar about people who act like the show was betraying its premise because it ended with reconciliation/Zaun and Piltover working together. Again, the fact that two of the most important relationships were between characters from both sides and that they made a point of talking about Zaun and Piltover first coming together against a common enemy was a pretty clear indicator that was the plan.

Now, I get being annoyed that that was what they chose to do. You don’t have to love the creative decisions of media, just like media doesn’t have to compromise its creative direction to satisfy you. But not liking that they went that direction is not the same as the show having bad writing or engaging in character assassination.

Everything Vi did in season 2 was very much in character with how she changed and who she became throughout Season 1. Hell, she used enforcers and Hextech to raid Shimmer facilities before Commander Kiramman ever threw on a beret. So, yes, actually wearing the uniform was a huge and complicated decision that she was definitely not happy about, but it also fell in line with what she had been doing.

There’s meat for another post at some point about the three different Zaun/enforcer partnerships we see in the show: Vander/Greyson, Silco/Marcus, and Cait/Vi; but I’m not going to go into that now.

TLDR: “Rebel Vi” who wants to fight all of topside hasn’t existed since the end of the second episode of the show.

Editing to add that Vi doesn’t see attacking Chem Barons as attacking Zaun; she’s taking down the people who are destroying Zaun.

[diekleinesuesse]

Being best friends with Ominis Gaunt:

Being best friends with Ominis Gaunt would be an intriguing experience. Ominis is a person who may come across as distant or cold at first, largely because of his family history and the weight of his last name. However, beneath his reserved demeanor lies a deeply loyal and caring friend.

A Friendship Built on Trust and Loyalty

Being best friends with Ominis Gaunt would be an experience that challenges your understanding of loyalty and trust. Ominis isn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, and his natural inclination to keep his emotions guarded might make him appear distant at first. Growing up in the shadow of his infamous family, Ominis has developed a cautious, almost stoic nature. However, as his best friend, you would be one of the few people who get to witness a different side of him. Beneath his tough exterior, Ominis is deeply loyal, protective, and incredibly thoughtful.

Intellectual Conversations and Thoughtful Advice

One of the most engaging aspects of being close to Ominis is the intellectual connection you share. His sharp mind and deep knowledge of magic would make your friendship intellectually stimulating. Conversations with him are rarely mundane. Whether it’s about advanced spells, magical theory, or Hogwarts lore, Ominis can talk for hours, always keen to debate and offer insight. You’d find yourself constantly learning from him, whether you’re discussing potion-making or unraveling the history of the wizarding world. But it’s not just about knowledge Ominis’ perspective would make him an invaluable source of advice in times of trouble. He has a knack for reading between the lines and offering practical, if sometimes blunt, advice.

A Friend Who’s Always There, Even Without Words

While Ominis isn’t one for flowery speeches or grand gestures of affection, his support is unwavering. In moments of crisis, you’d feel his presence without him having to say a word. He may not be quick to share his feelings, but you’d come to understand that his way of caring is demonstrated in actions, not words. Whether it’s protecting you from the prejudices he faces as a Gaunt or simply standing by your side when you need it most, Ominis would always be there in his own quiet, steadfast way.

Breaking Down Walls Slowly but Surely

When it comes to Ominis, friendship isn’t something that’s quickly formed it’s earned. His experiences with betrayal and his family’s name have led him to be wary of close relationships. But once you’ve earned his trust, Ominis would become one of the most dependable friends you could ever have. He would open up to you about his personal struggles, especially when it comes to his complicated relationship with his family and his desire to be more than the Gaunt name. Your friendship would gradually allow him to break down the walls he’s built around himself, revealing his vulnerabilities and desires for a different future. In these moments, you would see just how deeply he values the few people who truly understand him.

Subtle Acts of Affection and Protection

Ominis has a unique way of showing he cares. Unlike some who might express their feelings through extravagant displays, he prefers the more subtle gestures. He may not always say the words, but his actions would always demonstrate his loyalty. He’s not afraid to stand up for you, even if it means going against the status quo. In times of need, Ominis would make sure you’re safe, even if it’s just offering a quiet word of encouragement when you’re feeling down. His protective nature means that, as his best friend, you would never feel alone even in the darkest of times.

The Comfort of Quiet Companionship

One of the unique aspects of being best friends with Ominis is the quiet companionship you would share. Ominis, though strong-willed, can often be introspective, and he values moments of peace. Your friendship would likely involve long walks around Hogwarts, perhaps heading to the library to work on homework, or simply sitting in comfortable silence as the two of you enjoy each other’s company. Even though he cannot see, Ominis has a remarkable ability to notice details through his other senses. Whether it’s the faint sounds of footsteps or the shift of air in a room, his heightened awareness makes him a keen observer, and he values these quiet moments with you more than anything.

A Bond That Challenges You to Grow

Being best friends with Ominis would push you to grow in ways you never expected. His strength and resilience in the face of adversity would inspire you to be better, to challenge your own limits. He would also encourage you to see the world from different perspectives, especially when it comes to understanding the complexities of identity, family, and legacy. Through your bond with Ominis, you would come to appreciate the importance of inner strength and the quiet, unspoken bonds that form over time.

A Friendship That Defies Expectations

At the heart of it, being friends with Ominis Gaunt is about defying expectations. He’s not someone you’d expect to be a warm, open friend, but once you break through the barriers, you realize just how much depth he has. Your friendship would be one built on shared experiences, quiet moments, and a mutual respect for each other’s strengths and weaknesses. In a world where magic can often seem overwhelming, Ominis would remind you that sometimes, the greatest power lies in the bonds we form with others.

[allthingsfangirl101]

My Archenemy – Tyler Owens

All anyone can talk about is Tyler Owens. My students are obsessed with his videos. They idolize him.

I, on the other hand, would love to go a day without someone bringing him up. After high school, I stayed in town and went to the nearby college. I remained here and ended up teaching science at my old high school. Tyler only reappeared when tornados came to town.

I tried not to think about him. I didn't want to. We were childhood archenemies. Tyler and I were constantly competing. From spelling tests to reading competitions to science fairs. I was better at biology. Tyler was better at environmental science. We were always going head-to-head.

Whenever one of us won something, the other jumped up and won at the next thing. It got tiresome for me, but Tyler loved the competition.

After a long day at work, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home. I roamed the aisles, grabbing things here and there. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that there was still one box of my favorite granola bars left. I went to grab it but someone had the same idea.

"Oh. I'm sorry. . . I was just. . . Tyler Owens?"

"Well, I'll be," he chuckled, instantly smirking his famous smirk. "If it isn't little Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I'm surprised to see you back in town," I said, resisting the urge to look him up and down.

"Did you miss me?" He smirked.

"No," I didn't hesitate. "But now I miss the peace that was here when you weren't."

I started to reach for the box of granola bars, but Tyler snatched it. "Really?" I mumbled under my breath.

"I seem to remember you always had several of these in your backpack in high school," he chuckled as he pretended to read the nutritional facts. He smirked at me before dropping it into his handbasket.

"And something tells me you're not going to give me the last box," I scoffed, grabbed my shopping cart, and started walking the other way.

"We could make an exchange," Tyler said after he jogged to catch up with me.

"You have nothing I would want," I scoffed.

"Not even in exchange for the only food I've ever seen you eat?" He chuckled.

"Nope," I said, grabbing some cereal.

"You're no fun," he pouted.

"Yep."

"You haven't changed, have you, Y/L/N?"

"You shouldn't change perfection, Owens."

* * * * *

After my weird run-in with Tyler, I went home and instantly ordered my favorite granola bars on Amazon. I then used a bottle of wine to help me forget about our town's hero.

When I went to work the next day, the students were all buzzed. I had no idea why until I heard a certain conversation.

"Can you believe he's here?" One of my female students giggled.

"Isn't he from here?" Her friend asked.

"He is!" Another one of their friends added. He did a video a few years ago, and they talked about how he grew up here and even went to this school!"

"Wait," the first girl said, "didn't Ms. Y/L/N go to this school when she was our age?"

I kept my focus on my computer, hoping they wouldn't do what I thought they were about to do.

They did.

"Ms. Y/L/N, we have a question."

"What's up, girls?" I asked.

"Is it true that you went to school here?" They started with a warm-up question. They did this all the time.

"I did," I nodded, leaning back in my chair and embracing myself for the question they really wanted to ask me.

"Is it true that Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler, went to school with you?"

"He did," I sighed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when they squealed.

"We know he's gorgeous, but what was he like in person?"

"Is he sweet?"

"Is he funny?"

"Was he always the 'risk his life to save others' type?"

"He is basically the town's hero! Did he ever save you?"

"Girls," I cut them off, "I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."

"Sure!"

"Have you finished your assignment?" I smirked when they looked at each other. I almost laughed when they sighed and walked back to their desks. Luckily, the bell rang before they could come back and ask me those questions.

At the end of the day, I finished a few things before heading out. By then, it was raining. I pulled my jacket over my head and ran to my car. As I got in, I debated whether driving home in this weather could be unsafe, but there was no sign of it letting up.

My need for comfy clothes and a glass of wine convinced me to risk it. I carefully pulled out of the staff parking lot and headed home. I got to a red light and looked at the clouds, wondering if this would turn into a Tyler Owen's Worthy Storm. When the light turned green, I didn't hesitate to go.

I should've hesitated.

Right as I went through the intersection, another car ran the red light. I didn't have time to react before they hit my back tire. My car started spinning but there was nothing I could do to get out of it. Suddenly, I heard a large bang and my car stopped spinning.

I looked around but nothing made sense. I couldn't recognize any landmarks. I couldn't even remember what light I was at when I got hit.

"Y/N?!"

I couldn't respond. My head was spinning too much. I reached up, gasping in pain when I touched something wet.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

When I brought my hand back down, there was blood on my fingers. I leaned my head against the headrest, waiting for the spinning to stop.

"Shit, you're bleeding," the voice said. "Y/N, unlock the door."

I could feel my hand shaking as I hit the unlock button. As soon as I did, the door swung open. Someone knelt next to me, gently putting their wet hand on my knee. I could feel the rain hitting my face.

"Y/N," they said, their voice softer this time. "Look at me. Please?"

When I did, it took a second before I realized who it was. "Tyler?" I stuttered.

"Oh good," he joked. "You didn't hit your head so hard that you forgot about me."

"I wish I had," I mumbled as I looked away.

"You wanna know something, Y/L/N?" He chuckled. "I don't think you actually hate me. I think you pretend to hate me so I don't find out that you have a crush on me."

"You wanna know something, Owens?" I repeated his question, slowly lifting my head and looking at him. "I would. . ."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the headrest when it got too painful to try and focus on his face.

"We can bicker later," he said lightly. "Right now, let's get you some help. He grabbed my hand as he stayed squatting down but called 911.

Tyler stayed with me the whole time. He was right by my side, getting soaked in the rain, as we waited for the ambulance. Even as they put me in the back and took me to the hospital, Tyler stayed in the rain, watching.

* * * * *

I was only in the hospital for a night. I called the school and let them know what happened. They didn't hesitate to cover my classes for me and reassure me that they could handle things until I was better.

When I got home, I instantly collapsed on the couch. I put on a show I was binging before the accident and soon fell asleep on the couch. I woke up about an hour later to someone knocking.

"Tyler," I gasped when I opened the door. I subconsciously wrapped my cardigan tighter around me. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were released from the hospital earlier this morning and I wanted to see how you were feeling," he said, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

"I'm fine," I sighed.

"Are you sure? It was a bad accident," he shrugged. Something in his eyes changed. "Your car spun out and you ended up hitting. . ."

"I know," I cut him off, looking away from his weirdly soft eyes. "It was just a concussion."

"But it must've been scary," he said softly. I looked back at him, my heart feeling like it was in my throat.

"I don't remember it much," I mumbled.

"You don't?" He asked, taking a small step toward me.

"I remember my car spinning out," I recalled slowly. "And trying to turn out of it. Then. . . nothing."

"Y/N," he said softly.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, breaking this weird tension.

"What do you mean?" He chuckled.

"This," I said, gesturing between him and me. "You coming and checking on me. Being sweet. Saving me."

"Y/N," he gently cut me off. "Do you really think I'm the kind of guy who'd watch you get in a car accident and not help you?"

"You did it in high school," I said, dropping my voice.

As I stared at him, I remembered the day in high school when I got rear-ended on my way home from school. I still remember being on the phone, waiting for my dad to answer, and seeing Tyler drive by in his truck.

"Y/N. . ." He stuttered.

"Thank you for checking on me," I said, clearing my throat, "but I'm fine. In fact, I should probably get some rest."

Before he could say anything else, I shut the door.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I sighed when there was a knock on the door. I stood up but had to stop because I felt dizzy. When it passed, I slowly made my way to the door.

"Tyler," I stuttered. "What are you doing here? Again?"

"I wanted to apologize," he said. "I know we had our weird back-and-forth growing up, but I want you to know that I didn't hate you when we were younger. I've never hated you, Y/N."

I smirked as I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe. "So the time you stole my science notes and spilled soda all over them? Or the time you wrote swear words on my notecard for our biology exam? Or the time you almost tripped me at graduation?"

"Don't you notice flirting when you see it?"

"Bullshit," I scoffed a little too soon.

I saw the look on his face drop. Only for a second though. He quickly recovered his annoying smirk. My heart jumped into my throat when he took a step closer, instantly feeling like he was towering over me.

"Clearly, I need to take a more direct approach."

"Direct approach?" I repeated. "Tyler, what are you. . ."

He cut me off by grabbing my face and pressing his lips to mine. I wasn't sure what to do. My mind was racing and all I could focus on, besides Tyler's surprisingly soft hands holding my face, was the feeling of his lips on mine. Sooner than I would've liked, he broke the kiss.

"I may not have stayed," he whispered, "but I called the police."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, matching his tone.

"That day," he continued, dropping his hands from my face, "in high school. When you got into your crash, I froze. I kept driving because I didn't know what to do. When I got home, I instantly called the cops. I didn't even tell my mom until after I had gotten off the phone."

"Why are you telling me this?" My voice was now under my breath.

"Because when I saw your accident yesterday, I didn't freeze," he said gently. "I knew I had to do something. And fast. I couldn't drive away again."

"I shouldn't have brought that up," I stuttered.

"No, it's okay," he cut me off. "I was wrong not to do anything in high school. I should've stayed around. I should've helped you."

"You did tonight," I said, my voice dropping again. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about the girls in my class the other day.

"What?" He asked, his playful smirk returning.

"It's something my students said the day of the accident."

Tyler smiled as he reached up and moved some hair out of my face, his hand lingering on my face. "What did they say, Ms. Y/L/N?" He lightly teased.

"You really are this town's hero."

Tyler laughed, slightly shaking his head. "I only care about being one person's hero," he said, slowly leaning in.

"Who's?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yours."

He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I ignored all the doubts that flooded my brain as our lips started moving in sync. I grabbed the front of his flannel, pulling him closer to me. He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Oh!" He broke the kiss suddenly. "I almost forgot."

Confusion flooded me as Tyler stepped slightly out my front door and grabbed something from the ground. When he turned back toward me, he was holding a box of my favorite granola bars.

"I believe I owe you these."

[maxdibert]

1. We’re talking about a high-class bully considered an aristocrat in his world due to his blood status, who also operated with numerical superiority when attacking and, conveniently, had a working-class half-blood kid as his main target, whom he literally attacked for “existing.” The classist conditions are quite evident, and the power dynamics are clear. If you don’t want to see them because you need to justify your love for abusive, privileged brats, that’s not my problem. I fully acknowledge that Severus had plenty of flaws and a terrible personality, but what I won’t accept is blaming him when, in this dynamic with James Potter, he was clearly the victim and the one who was socially and economically at a disadvantage.

2. Excusing abusive behavior with “it’s just humor” is like excusing people making racist or homophobic jokes under the same premise. If we understand that one thing is wrong, we should apply it across the board. Making jokes with a misogynistic undertone that directly ties to the systematic, traditional abuse of women is not funny—it’s a demonstration of the power and impunity that privileged white men have over certain social groups, in this case, women. I’d love to see you defend the same attitude if it were Severus or Lucius Malfoy saying the same thing. You probably wouldn’t be saying the same.

3. Can you tell me where in canon it specifies that those spells were created for being a bigot? What we know is that they were created for “enemies,” and “enemies” can easily be understood as the group of bullies who had been tormenting him since he was 11 years old. Interpreting it as him creating them to target innocent Muggle-borns is something you’ve completely fabricated because nothing in the canon suggests that. It’s your own prejudice driving that interpretation. I’m basing this on canon, where his book specifies it was for “enemies.” Therefore, the knife analogy is correct: I carry a knife to protect myself from enemies, who in this case are guys who might try to do something to me at night. If those guys grab my knife and assault me with it, is that my fault? Victim blaming?

4. No, my dear, you started with the nonsense, so don’t come to me with excuses now. Sorry, but it seems like some of you get very upset when someone calls you out and debunks your fallacies. Well, that’s not my fault. Sorry!

5. James starts picking on Snape the very first day of school on their way to Hogwarts. Was he a bigot then? Did he butt into the conversation and mock him because he was a bigot? How did he know? Was he psychic and saw the future? Also, when the book explicitly states that he decided to publicly strip him because Sirius was bored? Why doesn’t it say they went after him because he was a bigot, but rather because Sirius was bored and his way of having fun was to find Snape alone and attack him two-on-one? Shall we also remember that what happens with Lily happens after they strip him and publicly humiliate him by choking him? Or are you conveniently skipping that part to keep throwing around argumentative fallacies at your convenience?

6. Basic concepts of character development 101: show, don’t tell. Rowling manages to show the reader that James could also be a terrible person through his actions, but when it comes to his “redemption,” she doesn’t show it—his friends just tell us about it, and they were clearly far from objective. Where is this change? Where is the maturity? Where does she show it? You can say something a thousand times, but it can’t be taken seriously if you don’t show it, and Rowling fails miserably at convincing us about James by not showing this so-called maturity she claims he has.

I love it when Marauders stans try to portray Lily as the ultimate feminist icon when any woman with half a brain and even the most basic understanding of gender studies knows that you’d be safer locked in a cage with a hungry lion than with a rich brat who publicly strips people and blackmails you into dating him in exchange for not committing sexual assault. Like, what world do you even live in? Seriously?

[pastorfutureletthembe]

I love YINGDU as it is

I don't think I'll read these interviews everyone is talking about :/ I thought hard about it, I've read the general points of it, but I don't think reading them will make me enjoy YINGDU more. Quite the opposite actually.

Me: thank you but no thank you. Later maybe. Love you, still.

I don't understand why they had to get interviewed to clear things up. By why, I mean, this situation is fucked up and I don't get how things got like this in this industry.

First. Can't the fans just wait and see? We're grownups, stop treating us like children who cried to get a lollipop. We'll still be here next year. Trust your fanbase.

Second... in what kind of world were the animators under pressure to the point they created plot holes and new timelines by accident? I'm extrapolating but, for real, how fucked up is it that they decided to rush a show that popular for the sake of airing it early? I'm sorry, was the money we spend on merch every few weeks not enough? I'm just mad at the production, honestly. Because they made a big mistake.

They're rushing in like bulls in a china shop. The character PVs were a mistake as well. They should have been released after YINGDU, to manage our expectations on characters that were yet to be introduced. I used to think it was an actual teaser, a window on how Lu Guang saw them or what they will become because of Lu Guang's meddling with the timeline. Now, I'm starting to think they needed strong marketing to get people's attention.

The whole thing makes my viewer experience less than optimal. So I'll keep writing meta but I won't take these interviews into account. 🧩Meta is for fun🧩, mere interpretation, only fanon, and that's okay. Meta is gamble. Meta is character study and theories on plot twists.

✨And that's okay✨

We're not suppose to write season 3 in advance. So it makes sense to me to keep having fun on what the show and the official content bring us. But as far as I'm concerned, the interviews didn't happen. It's not denial, just-

When I was studying cinema in university, my teacher once told me a very harsh truth: if you have to explain the sequence you filmed, then you didn't film it right. Sadly, in this context, production limitations were at fault but the lasting impression is the same.

Do you realize how insane it is that a creative team has to spell their work out to their fans? How humiliating it must be? There's revealing easter egg, teasing next season, spilling spoilers on accident, and then there is whatever that was. I feel for the creators and animators who worked themselves to exhaustion to bring something as beautiful as YINGDU to life. Because this season? It isn't perfect and it's inconsistent and different but no one can call it ugly. I would lick my screen because the image does look tasty lmao. My heart bleeds for all the people involved in this season.

Meta is trying to understand and noticing easter eggs, honouring the writers and animators' work X

Of course, that's only my stand on the topic. I might take different directions in my interpretation than others, that's all. Aaaaaand? Yes. That's okay 🥰

As an artist myself, I feel like the situation is kind of disappointing for the people who worked on YINGDU. That's why I'll take the canon as it is. I don't want to mourn what could be or should have been. I want to enjoy what is.

Meta is diving in the depth of symbolism X

As a fan, I get that we're happy with every nugget of information on what's coming next. The lore in Link Click is still blurry and while I honestly want to believe it is an artistic choice and will stay under control, I can't help but fear it's the result of bad writing. But. What if it is? Meh, I'm still here, enjoying myself. Because I love this show as it is, I see the flaws and the beauty in it. I'll be there.

Meta is love and each of us expresses it differently X

[sakura-hitomi]

TikTok context is 1st and 2nd picture and as we all read. The comments are disappointing one after the other. I'm sev reaction btw.

Let's focus on the last pic: weobyss.

Their point: @weobyss: They literally parallel each other in the sense of being complicit. Both of them had friends who treated others badly but they did nothing about it. Snape was hanging out with DEATH EATERS

----------------------------------------------

They made multiple points here:

- Remus and Snape are paralel of another (meaning they are alike - which is not true at all)

- Both groups aka Slytherin and marauders treated each other badly (true but fairly unjust)

- And Remus nor Snape did a thing about that Slytherin vs marauders/ gryffindors "rivalry"

- Snape was hanging out with DE. (implying something here)

----------------------------------------------

Let me break down how unfair your 4 arguments are with your: @weobyss: Pls reread my point, I’m comparing Remus to Severus, not Severus to James. James had no excuse. But neither did the Slytherins. Slytherin vs Gryffindor rivalry is old and peer pressured on both sides

Ps: I do apologize for assuming you meant James.

----------------------------------------------

Argument 1: Remus and Snape are paralel of another (meaning they are alike - which is not true at all)

------------------------

- it isn't true and extremely unfair to compare Remus who was PART of that friendship and Snape who was basically third wheeling his house. Remus was a friend, Snape wasn't. Lily implied it but friends keep in touch or talk about nice things. But even during school and after school, none of that friendship blossoms. Snape simply felt safest within Slytherin. While marauders aka gryffindors made his life a living hell, other houses laughed along or ignored him. Slytherins didn't do any of those. Or at most, inflict pain on Snape.

----------------------------------------------

Argument 2: Both groups aka Slytherin and marauders treated each other badly (true but fairly unjust)

-------------------------

True, can't argue against that but gryffindors discriminate against Slytherins. James butts in on a conversation of Snape with lily, trampling all over Snape's opinion about slytherin. Hagrid proceeds to tell a child of 11 "there was not a single Slytherin that didn't turn evil". Albus pulling gryffindors ahead of other houses, especially slytherins.

-----------------------

Ron talking about how awful Slytherin is. Meanwhile there isn't a single Slytherin that spoke ill about Gryffindor. If Slytherin vs Gryffindor was a thing and they'd use both dark spells, Slytherin would be apprehended earlier than their lion counterpart. In other words the scale of justice doesn't work for those two houses. Because that scale always leans in favor towards Gryffindors.

----------------------------------------------

Argument 3: And Remus nor Snape did a thing about that Slytherin vs marauders/ gryffindors "rivalry"

----------------------

I mean, of course not. What pureblood who thinks all high and mighty of themselves would listen to a poor half muggle? Half of what they are supposed to hate. Remus had a task as a prefect. Snape didn't even have that job as a prefect. It was Remus his responsibility meanhwil Snape held no responsibility over how to command his house mates to act. You're basically comparing a cop who is spineless to a mere passerby and blame the passerby for not helping the spineless cop in taking down a thief.

------------------------

This whole argument is basically unjust. Snape was in no position to talk to his housemates (not friends) about their behavior. Meanwhile Remus had multiple positions. He was their friend, and he was a prefect, with a mission of Dumbledore himself that he gave Remus that task to keep his friends in line. Which Remus botched, because not only couldn't he keep his friends in line. He helped James keep the bullying under cover. What bullying you may ask? Lily began dating James after he "changed" but James clearly didn't. Remus like Sirius made sure lily never found out about it.

----------------------------------------------

Argument 4: - Snape was hanging out with DE. (implying something here)

--------------------------

Again, Snape felt safest in that house. It isn't his fault for ending up in ytherin and majority of those students happened to be racists. They use peer pressure on each other and teachers that don't even bat an eye to them, wouldn't help the helpless and vulnerable students like Snape. I mean, Snape wasn't even a DE fanatic before Hogwarts. It isn't a coincidence that Snape became one during Hogwarts within Slytherin house. He also only called other mudbloods surrounded by his fellow students. When he's alone, he pretty much minds his own business.

----------------------------------------------

In other words, all your reasons are simply wrongly placed. Remus was worse than Snape, so was James, and Sirius. Snape's hand was forced by cards stacked against him, poverty, abuse, neglect, neglect teachers, racist housemates, peer pressure, lacking friend, bullying. Meanwhile the gryffindors (remus too) had no reasons to act the way they did.

Remus was not at all equal to Snape in any way.

[wisteria-lodge]

Lololol I think I read somewhere that the reason why the protection/blood magic or whatever Lily 'casted' got activated was because she was given a choice to leave Harry and live but she didn't choose it. Even if say James accidentally sacrificed himself to save his family, Regulus accidentally saved others by going against Voldemort at the last minute and Dumbledore sacrificed himself for others and even Harry no protection will ever activate because they need to be given a choice it doesn't make sense but whatever 😂

So I guess like... a clear (verbally?) articulated choice? Someone has to stand in front of them and go, "If you protect X, I'll kill you. Otherwise you're fine."

But like... that doesn't work *either,* because when Harry sacrifices himself in the forest, Voldemort doesn't give him a choice (verbal or otherwise) to walk away. And then, Voldemort's cruico doesn't work on Harry, his silencio doesn't work on the crowd at Hogwarts because:

“Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people —” “But you did not!” “— I meant to, and that’s what did it. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them.

I feel like we never talk about this moment because it's just so stupid.

Like... is it because Harry died without fighting back, like Lily did? Is THAT why James' death didn't count? In that case Regulus didn't die fighting back either...

Okay. So you need to have the *ability* to fight back, but choose to be executed anyway?

In that case 'sacrifice a maiden to Voldemort' should have been the first thing they tried. Sadly I think Remus would have been 100% up for it.

(Also, all of this is just unnecessary. Harry is just Master of (accepting) Death at this point, which is why the Elder Wand's spells don't really work on him. He doesn't *additionally* need to have trigged Lily's sacrificial magic for the plot to work)

[summerwriting]

banner belongs to @dollywons

Author's note: i am probably going to make a part two or turn this into a little series. Also head Canon readers colour is pastel blue. Also sorry about spelling mistakes if there is any, I'm dyslexic. i am also taking requests if you're interested check out arcane writing requests

A OLD FRIEND

You worked yourself through most of your nights, and they were normally quiet and consisted of the same repetitive activities. Serves a drunk dude kicks him out serves a drunk dude gets hit on kicks him out serves a another stupid fucking drunk dude and kicks him out again. Ok so Maybe they Weren't quiet, but it was a normal Night for you. What you were not expecting to happen on your Regular Saturday night shift was an old Friend that you thought was dead walking into the bar.

“I'll get a beer” is the first thing she said to you. She definitely Didn't recognise you. That's for sure  oh boy you were going to have fun that Night.

“Coming up, vi” you snickered, shaking your head.

“How do yo– oh haha very funny, don't you Dare say it's written on my face” Vi snapped at you.

“Well it is, but would you prefer me call you Violet, Violet” you say leaning on the Counter. There was a smirk on your face 

“Im sorry what who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you know my name and i mean my full name” she got Defensive real fast wich made you Laugh and roll your eyes.

“Mmmm you'll just have to figure it out won't you” you grabbed a glass “violet” you add her name at the end just to tort her. You filled the glass full of beer, all the while vi’s eyes Scanned over you Suspicion and cautiousness in her Gaze.   

“Ok thats not funny, who the fuck are you Bitch!!!” she snapped angrily her hands went down hard on the table her voice was loud and Obnoxious almost like Shame wasn't something she even had thought of. The people in the bar went quiet at the Sudden yell and their eyes went to her and well… you.

“You might want to be quieter, girly,”  you said, slipping her glass over to her with a smile on your lips. It didn't take long for everyone to go back to their original conversations.

“How do you know who i am?, talk” her voice came out threatening and her demeanour came off as Intimidating but not to you. 

“You'll just have to remember me. I can't be that forgettable can i?”you took a seat on your side of the counter resting your head in your hands your head tilted to the side.

“Just tell me who you are,” Vi demanded. Your Eyebrows furrowed in disappointment

“I'm Y/N, you seriously couldn't recognise me?” you asked.

“Oh god” vi’s eyes widened with sock and they seemed to Light up. She Launched forward, jumping over the Counter, wrapping her arms around you. You smiled and  wrapped your arms around Vi as well. “I can't believe this, i thought i'd never see you again” her hug was so warm and comforting and loving, it brought back old memories for you and her. you remembered the butterflies you would get when she would hug you like this or hold your hand or wrap her arm around your shoulder and when she would look at you with her big beautiful blue eyes the ones she was looking at you with right now.

“You thought that. i thought you were dead” you cupped her cheek. your eyes searching hers.

“I'm so sorry sweets i was- i was- well it's a long story” vi coked out. Her hands came up to grip both sides of your face. 

“Where have you been?”you asked, you needed to know you hadn't seen her in 7 years and she just showed up like the walking dead.

“I was arrested and shoved into stillwater for 7 years and then some enforcer got me out and i went looking for powder and well im sure you know about jinx and then well me and that enforcer kissed and then i stopped her from killing a kid and then she hit me and now i'm a drunk liveing in some shity apartment.” well that was a mouthful and a lot of information for you to take in. The two things that stuck was that she had been to prison and she's been in a Relationship with an enforcer which made it even worse, because yes you were a little jealous which was stuped. you Hadn't seen her in 7 fucking years, you Shouldn't feel that she was just some silly Little crush you had when you where little that was never Reciprocated.( Because you were like 11 and she was 15 but thats not the case now)

[madelynhimegami]

Arle Nadja Guide

I've heard a couple people say that they feel like they don't really get a good feel for who Arle is. Dunno if this will change their minds any, but I hope it helps.

Arle Nadja is freewheeling and easy come, easy go girl.

She loves adventure and exploring. Especially when that prominantly involves dungeon crawling.

Helps that she's been doing it from age 4.

Arle is, in fact, so hooked on dungeon crawling that Ringo and Amitie had to actively prevent her from entering what she already knew was a trap made to look like a dungeon entrance.

In addition to the adventuring, Arle likes travel as a means to meet new people with different ways of living.

She's well aware that most of her friends (especially from her own world) are insane. But she loves them regardless.

Arle isn't materialistic. As long as she has a way to get her basic needs met, her interest in wealth is, at most, transient.

Similarly, she's not particularly interested in becoming powerful.

I think she still likes learning new stuff about magic, including new spells, but the power of the magic in question is inconsequential to her.

Arle acts and speaks very casually, regardless of where she is or who she's talking to. She doesn't really care for formality and dislikes being expected to act a certain way.

Consequently, she has no reason to really ever acknowledge or respect authority without them earning it.

She made fun of brick jesus and his decisions to his face (at least before learning she was dealing with a small child).

I feel like Arle tends to be pretty good at reading vibes of others. As in, she can generally tell if someone is dangerous, stupid, struggling, being forced to act a certain way, sincere, or manipulative.

If so, she doesn't use that skill very often, because she's encountered too many people she will never understand she prefers to live and let live.

Arle is always willing to lend a hand to those in need of one. In fact, she's not very good at refusing to help, if asked.

Arle doesn't plan ahead very much. She just goes with the flow of things and assume that it'll all end up working out for the better.

She's not particularly inclined to strategic thinking (though she is perfectly capable of it). Her preferred method of handling obstacles is to face them head-on.

Satan doing something stupid? Beat him up. Door blocking the way? Tear it off its hinges.

That said, Arle is quite flexible, able to work with rapidly-changing circumstances, plus she's good at imrovising solutions.

She also probably has plenty of survivalist skills. You don't survive 12+ years of dungeon crawling without having a good sense of knowing what will or won't kill you, and how to protect yourself from the latter.

(I hate that I have to say this, but that does include bathing. Not washing dungeon gunk off is how you get fun and exciting new diseases.)

Her spells reflect those priorities, as well. Most of her combat-oriented spells aren't for dealing direct damage, but for self-defense.

Even then, she's has a blasé attitude towards danger, and doesn't get threatened easily in the slightest.

This is a girl that got into multiple fights with an owlbear and won before she started kindergarten.

She's not reckless, however. She's very aware that she's not invincible or unstoppable, and has reliable risk assessment.

Tight situations where she's in more trouble than she was prepared for is where a lot of her improvisation skills shine.

Arle's really forgiving. She doesn't hold grudges or resentment, even if someone has reduced her to her last frazzled nerve.

Case in point, she became friends with a man that abducted her and subsequently tried to kill her. Despite his protests.

Her gregariousness tends to grow on people, making her pretty good at making friends (albeit not as good as Amitie).

However, her forgiving nature only extends to herself. Threaten or annoy her all you want, she'll let it slide. But if a friend of hers has a problem with you, so does Arle.

Arle has a very dry sense of humor. She can snark with the best of them.

She mostly employs sarcasm to tease her friends (mostly the ones from her world), but she'll use it in full force if something annoys her enough.

(These often overlap, especially when Satan's involved)

She also can and will verbally destroy you for your nonsense if pushed far enough.

While known to get annoyed, frustrated, or agitated, Arle very rarely (if ever) gets truly angry. I firmly believe attacking a friend with intent to seriously harm is one way to do it, however.

She tends to have more patience with anybody younger than her. Doubly so if she has reason to believe they're relying on her.

Arle is very stubborn. She dies hard and never gives up.

It also makes her strong-willed enough to resist possession. She's actually on the record for forcibly expelling Ecolo from her body by attacking herself.

Both the above tie into Arle's greatest fear: helplessness. She is terrified of being trapped in a situation where there is absolutely nothing she can do to affect it, even superficially.

Much like Ringo, I think Arle is, in theory, a perfectly capable cook. But unlike Ringo, where Arle goes off the deep end is her obsession with curry. She'd pretty much always prefer making that.

Although not a powerhouse, Arle isn't your typical squishy mage. She's fit and resilient enough to get by a lot of her situations. And she can throw a good punch if needed.

We don't see it very often anymore (which is a shame imo), but Arle is a capable staff wielder, and will use one as a magic focus if it's available.

I think Arle used to be more self-centered and interested in magic for her own gain, but changed after a certain incident while she was at magic school.

Because of the incident, she's decided that there is no knowledge, possession, or power that is more important than the lives of other people, especially those you care about.

That being said, she actually doesn't remember the incident very clearly.

Of note, even before this personal epiphany, Arle was against fighting lethally and made it a point to only leave those she fights unconscious. She's even begged her friends to not kill someone even if it would help her.

The epiphany is another reason why she's less materialistic, however.

Arle is a believer in the idea that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. Several of her adventures end in disappointment or anti-climax, but she gets over it quickly.

No matter how an adventure ends, there's bound to be another one over the horizon.

Because of the above, and her aforementioned penchance for flexibility and adaptability, Arle doesn't let setbacks bother her. If she can stand back up, she can always keep going. And she will.

Although Arle isn't at all shy, she doesn't like to be made the center of attention or put on a pedastal. She's just a girl doing her thing, y'know? To her, that's not something she needs to be lauded for.

She's also doesn't really show signs of physical or romantic attraction of any kind. She can recognize a person as being handsome or beautiful, but only does so as a neutral descriptor.

Arle is the only one that can truly understand Carbuncle. She's fully fluent in gu, as well.

Somehow that lets her understand other mascot-like critters, on the rare occasions she comes across them.

[swampthingking]

OHHHKAFGJSKADVNWRKGNSKDF the angst possibilities in this are ENDLESS --

maybe aaron wants to know the truth about how she died...maybe it's all because he assumes andrew's this cold-blooded killer... and this is another thing that is conflicting between the twins, because andrew doesn't understand why aaron wants to bring her back, and now aaron needs andrew's help to perform the spell to bring her back once he finds the gem. he can't tell andrew the real reason, though, so...hm.

aaron trying for hours to be the one to have a bit of magic left in him. andrew watching until eventually seeing aaron struggle was too much, so he frames it as him being bored and makes a snide little comment on his way out, just a subtle way of trying to discourage aaron from trying to bring her back. but he can't help but listen through the walls until aaron gives up and leaves, and he hates her just that much more for springing back into their lives even from death.

andrew's on his snoop shit, as he canonically is. he goes into aaron's room and mumbles the spell out loud and it works. aaron comes back and assumes that andrew's trying to sabotage the spell and they have a little tiff, and then half-tilda is there.

aaron tells andrew that he's going to find a new phoenix gem. andrew, of course, is like, there's no fucking way in hell you're going alone, and off they go!!!!! shenanigan ensue and regular onward plotpoints are tweaked to fit the twinyard dynamic -- perhaps they have A Laugh. these near death experiences would show aaron that he is a capable individual and he does have the ability to become something, and they show andrew that aaron is capable of handling himself. aaron saves andrew at one point and andrew is like oh well he does care kinda--he didn't let me die. etc. other things to develop their relationship.

and i know this is a twinyard au but ... kevin would be All the Fuck Over quests of yore SPECIFICALLY because of the historical accuracy. and maybe possibly perhaps he'd forced aaron to play with him. ...dungeon master kevin day my love my heart my one and only--ANYWAY this is how aaron knows enough about magic and the quest to get them to where they're going and to teach andrew to perform spells and such.

couldn't tell you why andrew would go along with this, or how aaron convinced andrew to perform these spells or what he had to tell himself to do them (for aaron's sake), but it makes sense to me that he'd be stupidly good at magic, just as he is at goalkeeping. it makes sense to me that andrew would eventually just be like, "alright. if this is what you want, i'll let you learn the hard way," and do these things kind of placatingly.

they've gotten to a good place before the Big Fight happens, a couple near death experiences to bring them closer, and then they end up right back to where they started and aaron says andrew is a screwup and its SAD OK!!! and aaron is like u fucked this up for me on purpose u knew what u were doing the entire time!!! and like in his anger admits that he was gonna ask tilda how she really died because he knows andrew did it. and andrew is like "of course i fucking did it, i told her i would if she put her hands on u again" etc etc. i don't see them making up Before the dragon fight like ian and barley did, but maybe they both realize the gem is in the fountain and andrew got there first and he gives it to aaron, kinda like "i l*ve you enough to let you make the choice" and aaron has had this big realization that andrew does love him and has done everything for him because he loves him, and yea.

and so they fight a dragon and andrew is trapped beneath the rubble watching aaron and tilda talking, and he assumes that aaron is choosing her over andrew, but then aaron comes back and says what OP said: "i told her that she's wrong about us and we're going to make something of ourselves despite her" and then i cry my eyes out.

thanks OP for putting this thought into my head, i love to Not be normal <3

oh ps all the while, nicky is frantically trying to track them down and he shows up to help them kick Dragon Ass and it's awesome

This is probably so niche but twinyards Onward AU:

Tilda is the dad except shit, obviously. Aaron is Barley, who loved her, and Andrew is Ian, who barely knew her.

Aaron wants to bring Tilda back, but Andrew is dead set against it. Aaron, of course, thinks Andrew is just being spiteful and trying to hurt him. Andrew just doesn't want seeing Tilda to hurt Aaron or undo all the progress his brother worked so hard for.

In the end, Andrew helps Aaron get his last conversation with Tilda, and Aaron tells her how wrong she was about her sons; they were going to make something of themselves, despite her.