#I Grow Maddened (with grief)

[thicctails]

Oh shit, its the mental illness and trauma gang!!!

[kingofwinter283]

i actually hate talisa maegyr. i think her whole plot with robb was so stupid. like in the books robb’s marriage with jeyne is this tragic situation that’s really a culmination of the stress and grief that robb has been going through and unable to truly process because he is a child trying to lead his people in a war. he gets injured and then learns that his former best friend has just betrayed him, captured his home, and killed both of his younger brothers which adds to growing list of loss in his life. his father got executed, his sisters are being held hostage, his best friend betrayed him, and now his brothers are dead. so while he’s injured and kind of being consumed by his grief, jeyne westerling is there to comfort him and they do the deed and this only makes things worse because of how robb was raised and instilled with his father’s honor, as well as seeing how jon was raised, robb feels compelled to marry jeyne to preserve HER honor which ends up being his downfall. but nooooo in the show robb falls in love with foreign beauty talisa maegyr and dies because he’s an idiot and couldn’t keep it in his pants. like don’t get me wrong i love robb’s scenes in the show richard madden call me i just think the story could have been so much better and been true to the tragedy that it is in the books.

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining, jungkook as a parental figure 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 3.8k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. no warning except main characters being dumb and some SERIOUS tension

part six: the dreams and the sunday market ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

xv. the dreams

you were dreaming of kissing jeon jungkook.

  it was akin to a recurring nightmare, the way you woke up in cold sweat after picturing his beautiful lips on yours in your sleep. ever since the night where the two of you shared dinner, the image haunted you and chased you even in your lack of consciousness. it didn’t help that your day always began at five a.m, leaving you waking up, distraught, and no sun to warm your surroundings. 

  today in particular was not looking to be on your side. you slept through your first two alarms after getting lost in the dream of kissing jungkook on a beach in front of luscious palm trees and golden sand. even worse, it was the day of jungkook’s return to the farm.

  in the hours between your awakening and jungkook’s arrival, your nerves casted away your grogginess. you wondered why you didn’t decline his offer to finish the gate, but remembered he made it clear he didn’t have feelings for you - there should be no problem, then.

  since he was coming in the evening, you had an entire day ahead of you. somehow, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. it was maddening, as if the thoughts of jeon jungkook settled beneath your skin and chased your every move. it was a gloomy day with light showers, but the thoughts kept you warm and you didn’t like it one bit. 

  by 5 p.m, you were wrapped up for the day. it shouldn’t have taken so long, but with your late wake-up and the plaguing image of your childhood best friend, you found yourself sluggish. you decided that you were going to proceed like you’d done in the weeks prior.

  the last thing you wanted to take care of was inspect the garage once more. you’d been meaning to test out the old tractor inside to determine if you could sell it off or not, but it was a problem when the door was stuck in the same place. now, you were outside, wrestling with the garage, once again.

  “i guess this does have to be fixed. . .” you mumbled to yourself, remembering jungkook’s words.

  then, you heard your name being called. it startled you, since you hadn’t had any visitors in quite some time, considering jungkook’s absence. however, you knew that voice from a mile away and weren’t surprised when you turned around, taking notice of him approaching across the fields, coming face to face with the man in question.

  you hastily wiped the beads of sweat on your temple. “hey,” you said when you saw jungkook, who likely wandered to the fields when you didn’t answer the front door.

  “hey, y/n,” jungkook replied, setting his toolbox down by the fence he was to work on. today, he was wearing a black button down over a white t-shirt with jeans. his hair had grown slightly longer since you first arrived to amber valley and you liked the way it fell over his eyebrows. 

  as you always did, you graciously thanked him. “i really appreciate you coming to help me out.” even though he essentially shut down any possibility of you being able to come to terms with any feelings you had. you didn’t say that part out loud. 

  “stop that, you know i just want to lend a hand,” he waved you off and you wondered if that was what you knew. you weren’t sure if that was what your silent agreement with jungkook truly involved, with his persistence and your strong will - two things that were not easily challenged, but crumbled at one another.

"you still fighting with that old thing?" jungkook chuckled softly, looking at the garage door behind you.  

you only rolled your eyes. "i thought i could get it."  

he shook his head, continuing to laugh, and then glanced at the watch on his wrist. “oh, i guess this is the first time i’ve come by in the evening. you’re done work for once.”  

you didn’t realize this fact either and tried to fight a silent panic - you usually had a task that you could pretend to be busy with, in order to distract yourself from jungkook’s presence. then, you began what to wonder what was wrong with you? it was just jungkook. were your vivid dreams really chasing you into acting strangely? and was he not quieter than usual, or were you overthinking things?

  jungkook eventually excused himself to get to work and you decided that you needed to push your barrage of thoughts and questions away. instead, you entered the kitchen and proceeded to make dinner as usual, except a bit extra for your handyman of a friend.

  when you peeked outside after finishing, you saw that jungkook was drilling something into place. he’d taken off his button down shirt at some point, tying it around his waist. you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention, but it didn’t stand a chance against the sound of the drill.

  “jeon jungkook!” you yelled, but he still couldn’t hear you. it was only when you brought your hands to your lips and let out a loud whistle when he finally caught your eye, turning the drill off promptly.

  jungkook shook his head in disbelief, walking towards you with a laugh. “namjoon was right, that is a really loud whistle you can do.”

  “i made dinner,” you said, hiding your nerves. in reality, you knew little could go wrong, as the two of you were sharing meals together for weeks. unless, of course, if he tried setting you up with a friend again.

  “you know, i took you as someone who would be shit at cooking, but you’re pretty good,” jungkook teased, as he left his tools on the ground and walked towards you. “and thanks, of course.”

  you rolled your eyes. “i’m good at everything.”

  “lies. there’s a bunch of things i’m better than you at,” he mused, as he opened the door back inside for you. 

  the half-serious bickering made you drop your shoulders in ease, settling back into the same comfortable atmosphere that you always shared with jungkook. this was still the brat that used to whine if you got a better guitar hero score than him.

  the two of you soon settled into some local gossip. jungkook began telling you about how your grandpa used to constantly predict that the lee family would divorce sooner or later, which was apparently now in progress. you wondered how close he really was to him.

  “i wish we gave him one more summer with the three of us,” you said, as the two of you moved in fluid motions around the kitchen. the movements were natural and almost domestic, with jungkook knowing where all of the plates and silverware was and made it his job to set the table. meanwhile, you began getting the food ready.

  he nodded. “i think he would have liked that. he’s probably happy that we’ve become friends again.”

  the image of your dreams last night flashed before your eyes when jungkook said the word “friends” and you chose to ignore it. 

  instead, you responded, “i’d like to think that we never stopped.” your voice was quiet, unsure of the statement that you just offered. 

  it was nice, the way that you and jungkook managed to pick up your friendship after thirteen years as if nothing happened in between. and, even then, over the past month, the two of you slowly began to grasp the lives you led in the time apart. the people you grew into. somehow, it still clicked.

  jungkook paused, in the middle of bringing out plates from the cupboards. “you know, me too,” he said. “too bad you stopped responding to my letters.”

  this made you also freeze in place, eyebrows furrowed at his remark. “what do you mean? i didn’t stop responding,” you turned around to face him. “you’re the one that stopped replying.”

  “i’m pretty sure i was the last one to send a letter, bunny,” jungkook chuckled, but you sensed some bitterness. “i sent you a letter one spring and then when june rolled around, your grandpa randomly told me you weren’t coming back.”

  you shook your head, lips parted. “i never got a letter.”

by now, you finished setting food on the table. it was a full american-style breakfast, with chicken and waffles, scrambled eggs, and a platter of fruit from the farm. you made a jug of iced tea and set out some water. jungkook’s eyes trailed to the table and his eyes were unreadable.

  “that’s too bad,” he spoke slowly, as if remembering something. “breakfast for dinner?” then, jungkook shook his head, as if shaking the thoughts off, and proceeded to set the rest of the table.

  your eyes widened. “sorry, do you not like it? i thought it would be a good change - “

  “no, it’s not that! thank you, it looks delicious. i love breakfast for dinner,” jungkook smiled. it was as if he flipped a switch and you were itching to know what he was thinking before.

  “if you’re not up for it - “

  “you’re annoying, come sit down with me,” jungkook interjected again, but was playful and rubbed his hands together, ready to dig in.

  you punched his shoulder, which you knew did little damage, but he yelped anyway. sitting down across from him, jungkook began serving the both of you and you didn’t object when he plopped food on your plate for you. it was the same routine that you had before and frankly, it was nice.

  “i just didn’t think it would you’d never come back to town again,” he commented and you were confused, until you remembered what he said earlier. 

  you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “me neither. i don’t know what hapened, i used to love it here. . “ you trailed off, looking around your surroundings and out the window, where the silver of the amber valley sky looked down on you. “i did try looking for you at some point, but you aren’t on social media.”

  jungkook shook his head, pouring two cups of iced tea. “not really. and especially not after i started taking care of jiwon.” he passed one cup to your side, which you quietly thanked him for. “i think i saw you one time online, in early high school, but you looked different and i wasn’t sure.”

  like every teenager, you had a phase of experimenting with your look and went through different kinds of hair colours and makeup styles. now, in your twenties, you’d grown tired of constant change and like your city life, settled for mundane and simple. just before his passing, your grandpa once remarked that you began to look like yourself again.

  “we would’ve still been best friends in high school. i’d keep you around to copy off your homework,” you joked, cutting into a waffle. you weren’t kidding when you told jiwon about how smart jungkook was, as he’d always been since you two were young. though you were academically gifted yourself, you’d held jealousy for the way jungkook learned every hobby you liked at twice the learning speed.

  “aw, i was your best friend?” jungkook banterd, which made you kick him underneath the table. “i’m joking. we’re best friends forever, isn’t what we put on the tree?”

  “oh my god, don’t remind me of that!” your cheeks went hot, as you recalled that memory that jungkook was referring to.

  when you were about nine years old, you and jungkook had the genius idea to carve your names into a random tree by the town square. while doing so, you were caught by mayor kim walking by, who made a big deal out of you kids “defacing” town property. when he scolded you and told your grandpa though, the latter got a kick out of it. 

  the rest of the conversation was light, which was exactly what you needed. in spite of this, jungkook’s remarks about your letters echoed in the back of your mind. you made a mental note to look into his claim - though the said letters from your childhood likely lived in your dad’s apartment, where you had spent your middle school to high school years at.

  midway through the dinner-slash-breakfast, you caught the way jungkook’s eyes were fixated on you and didn’t move. you gave him a questioning look and he sighed.

  jungkook said, “there’s jam on your face.” his tone was pretending to be disappointing, but holding back a laugh.

  “oh, where?” you began wiping your cheek, which turned out to be dry. you continued swiping around, still missing.

  he groaned. “it’s literally right there. by your nose, bunny. come on.” 

  after looking like he was about to simultaneously lose his mind and burst out laughing, his chair creaked loudly against the wooden flooring and jungkook stood up. he made strides around the table over to you and bent down to meet you at eye-level. you jumped at the sudden movement and the fact that jungkook’s face was inches away from yours. he was so close that you could count every single one of his long eyelashes if you tried.

  “it’s right. . .here.” at some point, jungkook ripped away a piece of paper towel from your side and you nearly flinched when you felt his touch on your cheek. 

  he gently wiped away the spread with a tilted head and a crease forming in between his brows, seemingly looking everywhere but in your eyes. you were so close to him that you could hear his steady breathing. you wondered if he was close enough to hear the army marching in the middle of your chest. it was hard for you to breathe yourself when your entire body froze at the contact.

  you managed to let out a whisper, fighting the shiver creeping up your spine. “thanks.”

  jungkook’s lips looked exactly like they did in your dreams. “no problem.” his voice was low and you swore you saw his eyes flash to your own lips, before looking up at you.

  you weren’t sure how long the two of you were still for. the only thing in your ears was the sound of your heart, which was amplified over the ticking of the grandfather clock several feet away. nobody dared to move until the ringing of a cell phone, which caused both of you to jump.

  it was jungkook’s. the phone was sitting on the dining table and it rang because you knew he always kept his phone off vibrate for his sister. when you saw a picture of jiwon and jungkook making silly faces at each other flash on the screen, you cleared your throat and scooted backwards, knowing that jungkook was going to immediately take the call.

  “sorry, one sec,” jungkook eventually snapped back into reality when he saw his screen. he picked up his phone and trailed into the living room to take the call.

  it was time for you snap back into reality, too. you felt stupid and like you wanted to bang your head into the table in front of you. there was no way he was going to kiss you, you’d witnessed one too many reruns of this fantasy in your dreams. you just spoke about how great your friendship was.

  best friends forever. you repeated that in your mind, along with jungkook talking your ear off about how great you and taehyung would look together.

xvi. the sunday market

on the last sunday of each month, the valley closed up most of its main roads for pedestrian access only and the community came out to hold a market in the town square. local busineses came out to sell their usual and offer up fun, seasonal products to buy. your grandfather usually set up a stand, but you found yourself a little too shy to be doing it alone for your first month in town. thankfully, you were wedged between jimin and hoseok, right in between their booths. 

  “honestly, i’m glad you’re with us, y/n. at least we can all smell like fish,” hoseok hummed, as he began unfolding a tablecloth.

  to this, jimin rolled his eyes and continued shuffling through some flyers in his hand. “we’re not even selling fresh fish this month.” in front of him was instead a variety of different seafood products, such as artisanal spread, marinated seafood in jars and sustainably sourced caviar. 

  meanwhile, you were proud of what you scrambled together last minute. cartons of eggs, jugs of milk, yogurt, and quick-growing crops like microgreens and radishes. you took your job very seriously and wanted to make a good impression on the townsfolk.

  “thank you, y/n! hoseok, can you put some sunblock on for once? sheesh, you’re going to get burnt!” hoseok’s mom, mrs. jung, was one of your first customers that day and happily took home some fresh basil and eggs. her sneer at hoseok was clear as day, even underneath her floppy hat, snapping at her son from right beside you.

  hoseok groaned. “mom, i’m almost thirty. stop!” and still, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. 

  mrs. jung ignored him. “bye, y/n! bye jiminnie!” she blew a kiss to jimin, which made hoseok grumble.

  you laughed at the interaction, as you fanned yourself with one of jimin’s flyers. it’d been less than an hour since the market began and it was still early in the morning, so the square was sparse. you could even look down to your left and still see seokjin’s booth on the other side of the market, beside the mayor’s booth manned by namjoon. 

  it was now the end of june and marked your first month in town. the skies were clear and bright, a sight that you promised yourself you wouldn’t take for granted. every morning, you woke up before the sun did and by the time the morning came up to greet you, you were filled with vibrant energy for the day.

  “hi unnie! you look like you’re in a good mood today!” it was jiwon, holding onto peanut with one hand and her teddy bear in another. she was stylish for a kid her age, wearing jeans and a trendy graphic t-shirt that you suspected was jungkook’s influence.

  taking a cautious scan of your surroundings, you let out a quiet breath of relief when you saw that jungkook wasn’t around. he was definitely nearby, though, you had a feeling he wouldn’t let jiwon roam around with the puppy with anyone else.

  you greeted, “hi jiwon! you’re up early.” it was about nine in the morning and if you were a kid, you would not be a morning person during summer vacation.

  “yeah, oppa made me come with him,” she yawned extra loud, clutching her leash close.

  to your right, jimin cleared his throat. “where is jungkook?” he asked.

  “he’s avoiding y/n,” jiwon sang, like it was a normal thing to say out of the blue.

  your ears turned pink. you thought the two of you were good. it’d been over a week since your dinner with him at the saloon. now come to think about it, since your last encounter, jungkook had yet to make another return to the farm to finish whatever gate he was repairing - you stopped keeping track at some point, just letting him come over and continuing to hope that he found something new to fix. 

  hoseok pinched his nose. “jiwon, you can’t rat my boy out like that,” he whispered, side-eying you, even though you could clearly see. 

  to add fuel to the fire, you noticed the way jimin was scoping his surroundings. his eyes narrowed over to a corner, where you finally saw jungkook talking to mayor kim. when you did so, he looked over and made eye contact with you for the briefest of seconds, before darting away. before you knew it, jimin began hollering.

  “hey! jungkook! come here!”

  “what are you doing?” you hissed, taking a step towards jimin’s booth. “i thought we made a truce, park jimin.”

  “trust me, i’m helping you out.” jimin’s cheeky grin made you take a deep breath, holding back profanity for jiwon.

  you weren’t sure if the boys knew anything about what was going on with you and jungkook. hell, you weren’t even sure what was going on with you and jungkook. ever since he began detatching, you’d become confused and kept second guessing if you said or did something wrong. maybe coming by his house randomly was weird, but he did the exact same thing. the way he randomly suggested taehyung as a date for you also sent mixed signals.

  jungkook and mayor kim looked towards your direction, taken aback. then, jungkook gave the latter a polite smile, before walking in your direction. great.

  “did you need help with something, jimin?” the tight-lipped smile and tone coming from jungkook indicated he didn’t want to help with anything at all.

  jimin’s smile remained on his face, as he shook his head. “have you seen y/n’s, uh, cilantro? so fresh.”

  you turned to jimin, dumbfounded, but also irritated that you got roped into the conversation. meanwhile, jiwon batted her eyelashes, looking back and forth between you and her brother. her innocent demeanour was almost convincing, but you knew you were dealing with a jeon here. 

  “oh, hi. i didn’t see you there, y/n,” jungkook said. 

  bullshit. your tablecloth was bright yellow, compared to jimin and hoseok using the same white for their booths. you were wearing red lipstick and a sundress. he definitely noticed you. this made your jaw tense, annoyed that jungkook was acting different out of nowhere.

  “yup,” was all you could say, a dry tone settling in your voice.

  jungkook raised his eyebrows. “late night or something?” he asked, as if your voice indicated fatigue.

  “no.”

  “your eyebags say otherwise.” usually, jungkook teased you with a certain playfulness, but he instead matched your dry tone.

  hoseok immediately interjected, “oh, haha! ha - uh, haha!” he forced laughter out as if pushing with brute force, looking at you and jungkook strangely. the question in his eyes read what’s wrong with you two clear as day.

  you shrugged and luckily at that very moment, a small family began walking in your direction and approached your booth. on the other hand, jungkook suddenly became fascinated with the infused syrups at hoseok’s table and found the energy to talk his ear off about the ingredients. you missed the way jiwon shot a dirty look at jimin, as if this was his fault.

  “why are they acting weird?” jimin whispered to the smaller girl, as if buddies gossiping on the playground. 

  jiwon only rolled her eyes and huffed, walking away with peanut. she murmured things under her breath about adults being useless, wondering why she had to wake up early all to witness a dumpster fire between you and jungkook. she walked away, muttering to herself something about how she was determined to prove she was the only one with brains around here.

  𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx @shellyyy177

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ I AM THE KNIFE WHICH WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN ( part i. )

IT IS YOUR PART TO KILL ME , MINE TO DIE WITHOUT FLINCHING.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ childe ･ ei ･ dainsleif. genshin impact. title cr : heiner müller. quote cr : epictetus. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ childe

OH, BUT THE BLOOD IN YOUR VEINS RUNS COLDER THAN THE KNIFE AGAINST YOUR THROAT, the ruins of salvageable survival echoing in the remnants of a cruel mind. failure failure failure FAILED. you have failed once more, but you do not know if you are sorry or relieved at the realization. you lay there, chest heaving as your lungs burn in despair, but there is nothing except the calm in your visage.

childe looks down at you, wonders if you feel the iron against your skin. curiosity flickers for one, two seconds in blue hues, quickly drowned out by a wondrous adoration and glee at such a sight.

"poor thing." the harbinger says, and the increased pressure against your neck is the only thing that prevents you from laughing at his almost genuine, sympathetic tone. "you were much closer last time. i really thought you'd get me today."

"so sorry to disappoint you." you tilt your chin upwards, a grin blossoming across your lips. "maybe next time, huh?"

childe freezes, instinctively loosens his hold on the weapon. a maddening sense of nostalgia overwhelms his senses, dulls his blood lust. what a wonderful reunion you both share, he thinks, smiling as he leans down, faces only inches apart.

"maybe next time."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ei ; raiden shogun

"it has been a long while, raiden shogun."

she stiffens at your words, finds bitter amusement in such formalities. this is the end-- one will find victory ; another will find death. what need is there for such fronts and falsehoods after all you have endured together?

"have you forgotten my name?"

"impossible, ei. i would remember it for an eternity.”

you almost wonder if you see her flinch, but there is utmost apathy in purple eyes. how serene things used to be back then, an innocent youth and strong resolve once drowned in her colors. the person before you is a vessel of tragedy, claimed by calamity and only existing to seemingly protect others for all the wrong reasons. she remains silent, watches you with a growing grief untold.

there are too many barriers, too many unforgivings and too many regrets. too much missed between lovers twisted into something horrid, something ugly, something gruesome, and in the end, you forget you still have a heart.

"enough. you are not here to speak."

she steels herself for the worst, feels something excruciatingly human beneath it all. but it will fade soon enough, and she will return to a shell of indifference. it is all either of you know now, after all.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ dainsleif

but the bough keeper knows of his mission first and foremost, heart shattered with destruction and the knowledge of a heavy past. his home is neither here nor there, ruined and fallen to gods known and unknown. to seek happiness is unheard of, and perhaps this is his punishment for experiencing such a feeling with you in days long gone.

sanguine colors your hands, but you do not know where it comes from. how it trickles from your temple, trails down your face, almost mocks him in the way it resembles your tears. your jaw clenched, heart broken ; his honor on the line, resolve wavering. things should not have turned out this way. you and him should not know of violence, not like this, not towards each other.

but a bough keeper knows of his mission first and foremost, and he must protect the fate of khaenri'ah, even if that means destroying himself in the process.

"dain." you choke out his name, watch as his blood drips from his fingertips. you are not mad. you are not angry. you are sorry for what this has become. but you must do the right thing, even if it is wrong to him. you smile, dreadful, and hope he understands your heart. "i wish we could have had a better ending."

this numbness is unforgiving. sorrow sinks into his chest, rips out everything he has ever known. how hideous it is, this crimson that splatters across the floor.

[divinehedons]

peaches.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k words

Summary: You're Joel's slice of paradise. And he's not so keen on sharing.

Warning: explicit content ahead, minors do NOT interact. porn with a little plot, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), explicit p in v sex, cockwarming (if you squint), possessive!Joel, submissive!reader, joel needs a hug (or some fucking, who knows), time is a continuum and canon is fluid, established relationship, sexism (not by joel), graphic depiction of violence, death, proceed with caution!

A/N: This is a first fic so be kind, be kind, be kind!

reblogs and comments much appreciated; requests are welcome!

All there was at the end of the world was time. Oceans of it, stretched out, endless, all encompassing, so much of it that Joel mostly feels it as the tightening of his chest. As if he lies in wait. As if by standing still, he could stop feeling so cornered. At some point, perhaps weeks after Sarah's death, the world had begun to feel like something that happened to him than something that he was moving in. The clocks stopped. The world moved on.

He just didn't know it would go on without him.

Solitude follows shortly thereafter, walking hand-in-hand with the unbearable weight of his grief. The void grows in the darkness. He was no stranger to insomnia; and there were nights where he woke heaving, feeling that primordial chaos grow, borne from the very cracks of his being.

Perhaps that was what made the discovery of paradise so much more sweeter. And paradise came, as he remembered it, with the sweetest doe eyes he ever did see.

The same doe eyes that looked to him now, pleading, begging, pulling him close to the unmade bed he had just risen from a few minutes ago. "Tommy'll be looking for me, darlin'," he had reasoned, only to surrender to the sweet sound of your whimper as you catch his lip in a sleepy kiss, as if asking him to take you completely from the realm of sleep that tried to pry you from him in the early hours of the morning.

"It's barely light out," you murmur, leaning into the caresses his callused hands pressed against the softness of your cheek. "Stay for a little."

He chuckles, watching the way your soft eyes travel over his features. Memorizing him in a way that reminded him how it felt to be so human. "I think you want me to stay forever, peach."

He likes imagining, sometimes. When the mornings are quiet, somewhere between the siren call of sleep and the irresistible taste of your cunt. He likes imagining that time, that which once had felt so empty and all-encompassing, slowly shrinking until all he could see was you, so tangible and within reach. Alive, soft with the breath of the living. So close that he just had to taste.

You had often woken with his tongue devouring your folds, moans subdued and oh-so-maddening. One look at your face was enough to nearly send him past the edges of his limits, hard cock wet and straining to immortalize you in that state of bliss for all eternity. It was where the nickname came. So easily, so languid. Something transcendant and yet all too natural.

"You're just sweeter than peaches, aren't you, sweetheart?" he had grumbled as his lips wrapped itself around your needy little clit, the sudden motion leading to the softest cry that made his knees buckle. His large hands would affix your legs more firmly over his shoulders. Then his left arm pinned down your grinding hips, all while two fingers from his right hand sank so easily between those weeping folds he'd gladly lay his life down for for if it meant having this. Always.

"Oh, fuck, Joel-" you weep, tugging on his hair so needily as your body arches to try and capture the peak of his movements. "Oh, please... pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

He'd raise his head, devil that he is, wetness coating his beard in a way that almost made you pull him close and kiss him, desperate to taste yourself on his tongue. "Use your words properly, sweet girl..."

He likes to pretend, too. Pretend that he doesn't care so much; that the thought of losing his one last tether to sanity doesn't drive him to fits of boiling hot rage. He'd pretend there weren't nights where he simply lay awake with your head on his chest, the soft lull of your breast reminding him you're alright. So he takes. He takes and takes and takes. He is insatiable. You are divine.

"Want to cum, sir, please-" A growl escapes him, sinking back between your legs to savour the sweetness that seeps like ichor for the gods. And if this was heaven, he'd never want to be parted from that fount of sustenance. Even when he's bursting full. There is never too much when it comes to you. His soaked fingers reach up so easily, welcomed by your warm lips as you suckled on the fruit of your own desire.

For a moment, he wonders if this was what Adam witnessed in the garden of Eden. Was this the very same temptation that forever damned humanity? If it was, he muses as he lets you finish, then he'd gladly set the world on fire in worship of you and only you.

"Give it t'me, peach. s'alright," he whispers, cradling your hips as you trembled in his arms, completely consumed in the ferocity of the riptide, emanated by the sweetest cry between your parted lips. The gush of your release eases him into his own bliss, the worries of their post-apocalyptic clarity melting away in the haze of watching each and every reaction coaxing your features.

He blinks, and he is taken back to your lips, the early dawn, his brother waiting at the edges of paradise. Reality slips between the cracks, and he sighs, gently laying you back amongst the tumbled sheets.

"You seein' a movie later?" he asks, to which you smiled, nodding shyly as you attempted to raise yourself again.

"Mhm. But Maria needed help with something, so that goes first." You palm at his scruffy beard, leaning up to place a trail of kisses against his covered cheek.

"Go back to sleep, hm?" You groan, and he chuckles at his stubborn girl. "Y'need the rest." He slowly departs from you, as if by being pressed against your skin for a few moments more meant keeping the scent of your skin close to him for longer.

"Like you don't, old man," you'd mumble, rolling over and letting sleep take you again. "You'll come home, yes?"

It freezes him. It makes his heart ache. He hears the hesitation, the worry, the things you had always tried to hide to make things feel a little more normal. He swallows, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Always, peaches."

The silence enraptures everything beyond the hubbub and safety of Jackson. It was routine, it was repetitive. Sometimes people would let their guards down. Never him, though.

New recruits huddled together, waiting to be paired, to be picked, to be chosen. As if they couldn't wait to feel the chilling presence of death in the form of a gun. The possibility of violence, child's play that didn't know any better; didn't know what others had to lose from the battlefield just for them to be desperate to jump right into it.

Joel keeps his good ear to the group, picking out artillery with the precision of someone who had been to too many battles. In the mumblings, he catches out a voice.

"What about that pretty thing that likes movies?" He hears your name and traces it back to the face that dared speak of you. "She'd probably look pretty on her knees. I bet she could-"

"Who's the kid?" Joel mumbles, head snapping to see his brother.

"Christopher. He's with me."

The blood pumps in his ears. The thought of those thoughts, ones that only belonged to him, ones only he should be privy to, filling up someone else's brain... "'m taking him."

His sweet peach, glorious, eternal, divine. You didn't deserve this, do you?

He told you once that you'd drive him mad. You giggled, leaning over the dining room table to kiss him gently. "You're all soft," you teased, pinching his cheek before letting him go back to his work. He rarely admits to the things that haunted him. For so long, he had tried to hide it all from you- the blood on his hands, the violence that he had lived with, devoured like sticky fruit on a summer's day. The two of you do not speak of the nightmares that would wake him, only to settle at the feel of your kisses and the weight of your body on his.

He never believed in religion, and perhaps he would never again step foot in a cathedral. But one thing that felt right was confession. A word from you and he would come spilling, emptying his grief on a platter for the goddess to consume gloriously. He'd tell you of Sarah, of Tess, sometimes in a mess of hushed whispers. Fragments of incomplete sentences and the sweet scent of your skin as you held him.

One word from her and he had never felt so clean.

Perhaps madness was how he ended up here, looming over the same boy who had dared saying that about you. The onslaught of violence had remained blurry in his head. Now Christopher slumps against the nearest wall, face and flesh combined in a gruesome depiction of his rage. His heart thunders in his ears, and he lifts the boy's head by his hair.

"Hey, hey," he grumbled, gently patting his cheek. "Look at me. Christopher, isn't it?"

The kid sputters, coughs up blood as he nods. "Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Joel flicks his knife open trailing the blade to his thigh. "I don't know what you want, man!"

"You don't talk about women like that, kid." He watched those young eyes widen, pained cry escaping him as he sinks the blade into the meat of his thigh.

"Fuck, fuck!" The gritting of teeth, the taste of blood, the smell of it permeating the room. And beneath it all is the slowly trickling smell of fear. Joel looks, growling as he twists the knife harder, letting Christopher scream. "I didn't know she was yours, man. I'm sorry-"

"Not very bright are you, kid?"

The screams would echo in the room for hours. He could've killed him. Perhaps he should've. All because he had dared to look at her that way. His peach. All because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

When he enters Jackson, he sees you standing there, pacing, cheeks red, hands trembling. He swore he felt his heart skip at the sight of Maria trying to comfort you, assure you that he was alright. It was only when those soft doe eyes find him that you finally believed her. You're running, and all he could do is stand there, let you collapse in his arms as the tears finally escaped you.

"They said," you had whispered, tugging him by the lapels of his coat, "they said there was an encounter- someone died, and... and..." It is a few minutes before they had finally begun to walk home, with you tucked to his side as your tears dry with the wind.

Within the confines of the house, it is all too easy. All too natural to surrender to the needing kisses you had peppered against his jaw, hands tugging off the blood-specked coat that now seemed to weigh on his shoulders. His large hands pull you close by the cheeks, kissing you wantonly and with a low grumble. The drying blood on his hands smear the unblemished skin of your cheek, marking you with the evidence of his sacrifice. Looking to you, breathless and inevitably all the more in love, he tries not to lose it then and then.

There had always been something primal about loving you. Something about the way he seemed to lay everything at your feet, like a devoted man in the presence of worship. Something about the way your cheeks bear his sacrifice now, and the way you don't even notice, already whining for another kiss after he had stared for too long.

"I'm right here, peach. It's okay," he whispers softly, arms carrying you to the couch, kissing once, twice, a few more times before he moves to the crook of your neck. He hears the soft sniffles, feels the wetness of your tears. "Hey, hey..."

Your arms wrap around him in the same way they did in the morning before he left. You pretend sometimes, too. You pretend that the feeling of his heart beating against your cheek whenever you lay on his chest settles you instead of terrifying you. You pretend time wouldn't steal him away and silently thank empty air whenever he returns home from whatever battlefield he emerges from.

Desperately, he marks you with his lips, the pressure of broken capillaries telling you everything you needed to know. That he's safe. He's alright. He did fulfil his promise after all.

Are you like me? you had wanted to ask once, do you leave marks on everything you love, too? When he looks at you with those eyes, it is all too easy to wrap your legs around his waist and let him place you on his lap, calloused hands exploring your thighs as if grounding himself back to the reality of your warmth.

Do they always leave, Joel?

All you taste is the metallic flavor of iron on his lips, clothed core pressing and grinding against his hardening cock. You finally speak again.

"Never, ever terrify me like that again." He'd smirk, pushing back your hair to observe your face, committing it to memory as if it would be the last time he will have you like this.

"Alright, baby. Alright. Let me take care of you, now," he murmurs as he lifts you, arms tensing as he carried you to the bedroom, to the sheets you had fixed after he left. You looked just as divine sprawled on his bed, just as divine when he had stripped you into nothing but your underwear. He couldn't help but admire the lacy pair you had on, watching your face redden as he sinks into another kiss once more. "Did you wear all this for me?"

Your meek nod is all he need. All he required for a groan to reverberate against your skin. "Wanted to surprise you, sir." He kisses down the valley of your torso, admiring the way you had turned into putty in his hands. You moan out his name, gasping as that devious tongue of his traced the outline of your folds through your underwear. You feel him press against your entrance, sinking just enough to be felt but not enough to feel good. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, your voice driving him into shambles of desire.

"Fuck, Joel, don't tease," you'd almost beg, enough for him to smirk, shushing your desperate whines as he pulls you on his lap whilst he leans back.

"Alright, peach. Take what you want. S'all yours, isn't it?" You hum in agreement, leaning up to kiss him, leading his hands to your underwear and almost begging for him to take it off. He stares, a soft smirk on his features before his hands tear off the flimsy material that kept him from enjoying you.

"I'm all yours, Joel," you whisper, reaching for his pants and lowering it just enough to free him. His eagerness leaves you humming, moaning into the warm air of the bedroom. It was too much, you had been so good.

You'd give up forever just to have him like this.

You let his dripping cockhead catch where you're wet and dripping, eventually just sinking to the hilt. The stretch is glorious, it is otherworldly. He grips your hair and catches you in a desperate kiss as you slowly impale yourself on him. You moan. You whine, you tremble, and you practically sob.

"It's not like this with other people, is it?" you whisper, to which he growls and turns you over, legs thrown over his arms as he desperately ruts where you're perfect and absolutely divine. "Fuck, I'll always need you, Joel."

"I know-" he cuts you off, holding your face as you both fall into a heavenly rhythm. "Absolutely fuckin' perfect for me, peach..." He knows he had found that one spot that always drove you so wild when he hears that high squirm that escapes you. He presses more kisses and hickeys against his skin, as if reminding himself you're all his. Gently, he lets you suck on his bloodstained fingers, letting it quiet you as his thrusts intensify.

He wonders if you see just what you do to him. He wonders if you know that just the threat of someone else having you is enough to send him into blind and needy thrusts. He wonders if you know your touch is the only salve that takes away the rage bubbling under his skin.

It's a few moments more before he takes his fingers away, watching as you hold on to him, begging to let go, to slowly release.

"I'm all yours," you cry out against his shoulder, and he has to bite your skin to control himself. To let you go first. "Please let me, I need to- I'm so- so fucking close-"

He lays you back down, letting the fingers you had wet with your tongue reach down and rub your throbbing clit. "Look at me, peach. Come on, baby, show me those eyes of yours."

You look, doe-eyed, soft, and absolutely angelic in the face of debauchery that he literally growls.

"That's it. Give it to me, peach. Fuck, yes-" One word from him and you're letting go, eyes trained on him as your features contort into the most heavenly view he had seen. He feels you tighten, clench, and spasm against him that it pushes him just enough.

"That's such a good girl," he rasps, catching your lips in one more kiss as he spills between your folds, bodies pressed and coupled in an inseparable hug. The kiss dwindles as he presses his nose against your bloodstained cheek, breathing in the scent of your skin painted with his unannounced present. "That's it. Such a good, good girl, aren't you?"

You whine, moaning softly as you kissed what you can reach of him, heart racing as you basked in how gloriously full you felt. How gloriously loved. "I'm absolutely in love with you, Joel," you whisper, reddening as he kisses you again.

Joel Miller is a man of very few words. But you know you matter to him too. Just how much was another question entirely. It takes moments before he catches his breath. A few moments more before he's moving.

Another whine escapes you, and he peers down worriedly at your pouting features. "Stay," you whisper, pulling him until he lay his weight against your fragile, marked-up body. "Just like this, please."

He could have sworn he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

"Fuck, peaches," he mumbles, surrendering into your arms. "You might just be the death of me."

[pyrettawychwiggin]

Come With Me (Oneshot) - Crow x Guardian (Destiny 2)

The following oneshot contains spoilers for The Final Shape beneath the cut. Tread carefully, Guardian.

What to Expect: SFW, fluff, cute

I put this together shortly after Ch'ak and I completed The Final Shape campaign. I've been a bit of Crow stan ever since I first started playing, so naturally, I ship my own hunter with him pretty hard-core.

That being said, seeing as how my Guardian, Vera, respected and got along well with Amanda, she rooted for her and Crow despite her feelings, honestly feeling that she would be good for him (until they hit their rocky patch). If anything were to happen between she and Crow now, I feel like it would be a bit of a slow burn, so maybe eventually I'll write more about them.

Anywho, enjoy!

♡

♡

♡

Vera sat atop the overlook high above the Dreaming City, one leg tucked into her chest, the other dangling over the ledge. She gazed out to the skies shimmering in hues of ammolite, a stark contrast to the pearlescent white structures towering over the misty green landscape.

The words kept echoing in her head.

Now, you tell the others that this was my choice.

She removed her helmet and set it aside with a huff, feeling more and more constricted by her grief.

My Light.

She felt her chest grow tight, and the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall.

Nobody makes my fate but me.

Her hands burned with the phantom sensation of Cayde's over hers.

You're my favourite. Don't ever forget that.

Her mind returning to the moment Cayde's Light - that bittersweet cataclysm - crashed through her consciousness and brought Doppler back to her - but at a cost she wished he hadn't needed to pay.

"Vera?" Doppler hovered just a few feet away at her side. "Maybe we should get back."

"Sorry, Dopps - just..." Vera shook her head and sniffled, using the palm of her hand to dry her waterline. "Just a little bit longer."

"Well, alright..."

Dopps' robotic tone was still full of concern. Usually his guardian was far more forthcoming with her feelings; she notoriously wore her heart on her sleeve, but ever since they'd returned from the Pale Heart for the final time since the Witness' unmaking, it felt as if her heart had been sealed off in a steel vault. On occasion, he'd see her eyes brimming with the shine of tears, but she wasn't allowing herself to fully break down like he knew she needed to; the next moment, her expression would harden again; as if she were actively reigning herself in - blocking off her feelings, which most certainly was not like her.

"I'm here," he said softly, almost as if he was afraid that breaking the silence would shatter her into dust. "If you need to talk."

Vera nodded before Dopps disappeared to give her a moment of privacy. Perhaps if she wouldn't allow herself to cry in front of him, she'd be more comfortable if there was no one else around.

The area was silent and still once more, but Vera's expression remained blank. She had no idea how long she'd been there, or how long she planned on staying, but she knew if she really wanted, she had all the time in the world; which perhaps made the whole concept all the more maddening.

"Guardian," a familiar voice broke the silence once more, making her jolt a little. "I thought I'd find you here."

Crow carefully approached her, stopping about a meter away to wait for her to respond.

"Crow." Vera rasped, keeping her back turned to him, silently hoping he'd keep this encounter brief. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, for one, you could talk to me." To her dismay, Crow sighed and took a seat on the ledge beside her, giving her a sidelong glance. "You haven't been yourself since we got back. We're all getting a little worried."

"I don't know how to talk about it. This all still doesn't quite feel real, yet."

"Mm." Crow nodded and took a heavy breath, turning his gaze beyond the horizon. "Maybe start with telling me... how are you feeling right now?"

"It changes with each passing thought." Vera frowned and shook her head, furrowing her brow as she attempted to find the words to describe what was in her heart. "I'm furious, I'm heartbroken, I'm confused, but most of all, I feel.... guilty."

"Guilty?" Crow turned his head to look at her again, eyebrows raised in surprise at her choice of words. "Don't tell me you blame yourself for Cayde?"

"No, I... I feel guilty for feeling the way that I do."

"What do you mean?"

"I just can't help but think about the lightless folk. People die around them all the time - and for good - no Ghost to resurrect them from a bullet to the heart or a knife to the throat." Vera hugged her knee closer to her chest. "How many of them have lost people they'd loved and wished more than anything to get to see them one more time; to have one more conversation with them to find that closure they never got to have beforehand?"

Crow frowned and nodded slowly, allowing her to continue her thought.

"We did. We were so lucky to have gotten to hear his smart-ass voice again, and yet I can't help but feel that it just..." Vera's shoulders started to quiver as she felt herself beginning to break. "Wasn't enough."

Crow shuffled closer to the Awoken hunter and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, gently resting his cheek on the top of her head while tears finally started to trickle down her face. She leaned back against him, despite the tingling of her skin that begged her to push him away.

"No amount of time is enough when it comes to someone you love," Crow sighed, feeling his own heart ache for his own losses as well as Vera's. "Were you two really that close?"

"When I first arrived - after Dopps woke me up - I was all over the place." Vera sniffled. "Cayde was also... well, all over the place, but I think that's why I could relate to him. His chaos was like a mirrored version of my own, just so, so much brighter. He was one of my first friends."

"Just friends?" Crow chuckled, giving her arm a playful shake. "I always assumed there was more to it than that."

"No, never." Vera shrugged. She cast her eyes out across the vast landscape and smiled numbly. "He was more like a big brother in my eyes. Or, maybe a mentor - of some sort? I don't know. I loved him with all my heart - but not... like that."

The two Hunters sat in silence for a while before Crow cleared his throat.

"There's a private vigil for Cayde back at the Tower tonight; there won't be many people there, it's really just Cayde's closest friends." He dropped his arm and rose to his feet, dusting himself off and offering a hand to her. "Come with me?"

Vera gulped, staring at his open palm with hesitance. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep it together long enough to be social..."

"You don't have to be social if you don't want to," Crow replied with a sympathetic half-smile and a slight tilt of his head. "Just stick with me; I can do the brunt of the talking today if that's what you need."

Crow... Vera nearly felt as though she'd crumble. He's dealing with his own pain and grief, but he's still looking out for me...

"Okay." Vera wiped her tears off on her sleeve and took his hand, letting him gently hoist her up to her feet, his grip lingering for just a few seconds longer than necessary. "Thank you, Crow. And by the way..."

"Hm?" Crow waited for her to continue.

"I, uh... I like the hair." Vera gave Crow the first genuine smile she'd had for quite some time. "It's nice being able to see the rest of your face."

"O-oh." Crow averted his eyes, his ears darkening slightly in a soft blush. He scratched the bridge of his nose with a bashful chuckle under his breath before silently working up a small ounce of courage, reaching out to softly drift his fingers over her jawline. "Thank you, Vera."

"See?" Glint excitedly popped out from behind Crow's shoulder. "I told you she'd like it."

Crow's shoulders jumped with surprise before he turned and frantically shushed his ghost, making Vera laugh for the first time in weeks.

"I haven't seen you laugh for weeks!" Dopps returned, hovering around Vera almost as if he were dancing with glee, turning to Crow and stating, "you really do bring out the best in her."

"Dopps! Seriously?" Vera hissed, face warm and flushed at the ghost's lack of tact.

Laughing and arm-in-arm, the two hunters transmatted back to the Tower for one last celebration of their fallen hero.

[rebelumbrella46]

HOTD 2X02 "Rhaenyra The Cruel" Thoughts!

Green Side:

Aegon: Tom's performance as Aegon was exceptional, allowing me to sympathize with his character throughout the episode. I could deeply feel Aegon's pain and rage, especially in moments where he needed comfort and was denied. Alicent’s inability to provide motherly solace was striking; even Cersei, in all her madness, was a more nurturing mother. Aegon's inadequacies as a king are clear—he’s young and impulsive. One of the episode's standout scenes is Otto reprimanding him, realizing the monumental mistake he made in thinking Aegon could be controlled. Aegon will never be as pliable as Viserys. This parallels the frustration Daemon feels with Rhaenyra, who, ironically, exhibits the patience and indecision that mirror her father.

Otto: Otto is a character I love to hate, and the actor’s portrayal this episode was a highlight for me. His regret and frustration with Aegon’s choices were palpable, showing that karma is catching up to him. I also appreciated the subtle grief Otto displayed when speaking of Viserys, indicating a complex mix of respect and genuine care despite his actions. The scene where he dismisses Alicent’s attempt to seek solace was particularly telling—it highlighted a pattern where comfort is consistently denied, first to Alicent and then by her to Aegon.

Alicent: Alicent was insufferable this episode; I found it impossible to empathize with her. She continually makes the situation about herself, oblivious to her children’s suffering and unable to provide them with any comfort. As someone who has read the books and knows how her story ends, all i can say is that the Gods for more cruel that they are, wouldn't take it out on an innocent child for the crimes you have committed and in the end the punishment would be ten times worst.. a very fitting end if they decide to go for it.

Aemond: Aemond had a brief but significant moment where he confessed his feelings over the incident with Luke. This scene showed a level of remorse that sets him apart from Daemon, particularly in this episode. Aemond’s awareness of the pain his actions cause to others and the brewing rivalry between him and Daemon were well portrayed.

Helaena: Helaena, my poor sweet child, continues to be a character I deeply care for. She doesn’t seem to appreciate the public’s sympathy, as if she knows the whole situation is wrong. And knows these people could so easily turn on her, i'm pretty sure she saw it even. The citizens of King’s Landing have long been depicted as some of the most unsavory characters in the history of Westeros. Their actions and attitudes throughout the series often highlight their fickle and ruthless nature. This is why, every time I recall Daenerys burning the city, I find it difficult to muster any sympathy for them.

The brief encounter on the stairs, where Aegon denies her comfort, reinforces the pattern of emotional neglect seen throughout the episode.

Criston Cole: I have to give immense credit to the writers for their incredible work in depicting Criston Cole. With each episode, my hatred for this character grows exponentially. Kudos to the actor as well, who is doing a marvelous job. But honestly, every time Cole appears on screen, all I can think is: "How much longer until this guy meets his end? Hopefully, it's a very horrible one.". His manipulation of Arryk, sending him to his death, was disgusting.

What’s even more infuriating is Cole's blatant hypocrisy. He projects his own shame and regret onto others, acting as if he's on some moral high ground. His self-righteousness is maddening, especially given his own shady actions. I found myself wishing Otto would expose him in front of Aegon—reveal how, while Aegon's child was being murdered, Cole was with Alicent, another person whose hypocrisy drives me mad. (Like Aerys "the Mad King" kind of mad, wanting to see them both burn)

Despite showing guilt for his actions, he repeatedly makes the same mistakes. The only moment Alicent gained a bit of my appreciation was when she reminded Cole of his betrayal of Rhaenyra’s trust for his absolution last season.

i truly don't want to see anymore of Alicent and Cole intimate scenes.

The decision to name Cole as Hand of the King is a boon for Team Black, as he is likely to make poor decisions and counsel Aegon poorly, ultimately working in their favor.

Black Side:

Rhaenyra standing up to Daemon was a powerful moment. Their confrontation, though painful to watch, was necessary. Daemon’s actions have deeply wounded Rhaenyra, and his lack of remorse is entirely in character. His abrupt departure leaves Rhaenyra in a position where, despite knowing he loves her, she can no longer trust that he will remain by her side.

I'm interested to see what his reaction will be next episode when he finds out that Rhaenyra was almost killed on her bed right after he left her to deal with the consequences of his actions.

Rhaenyra’s concern and regret for Helaena were touching. I believe she would welcome Helaena if she ever chose to leave the Greens. However, I was uneasy about Rhaenyra sending Baela instead of Jace. While I understand her reluctance to risk her heir after losing a child, it felt dismissive of Baela's well-being, who we have to remember is still Rhaenyra's step-daughter.

Baela and Jace: The brief scene where Baela confesses her occasional hatred for Daemon was surprising but added depth to her character. Jace reminiscing about Harwin and Laenor was a nice touch, evoking memories of characters I miss, including Luke.

Rhaenys: As always, Rhaenys remains my favorite character on Team Black. Her knowing look at Daemon, recognizing that only he could have orchestrated such actions, was telling. The quiet moment between Rhaenys and Corlys, reflecting their mutual support despite not being Queen and King, contrasted sharply with the dysfunctional relationships of Viserys and Aemma, Viserys and Alicent, and even Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Mysaria: Mysaria was another highlight for me. Her decision to speak truth to Rhaenyra and return her kindness by saving her life suggests a budding alliance. Rhaenyra needs someone as cunning and insightful as Mysaria to advise her.

The Twins - Arryk and Erryk: The twins' final fight was heartbreaking. Although I wish we had seen more of them this season, their confrontation poignantly illustrated the perils of war and how it harms even those not directly involved in the conflict.

I’m looking forward to seeing Daeron, who was finally mentioned. I can’t help but think he might be the only salvageable son of Alicent, likely because he grew up away from her and Otto’s influence. I’d love to see more of Rhaena and am eager to meet characters like Hugh Hammer and Adam. The brief return of Seasmoke was a pleasant surprise—I missed seeing him too!

Overall, this episode was much stronger than the last.

Rest in peace little Jaehaerys.

P.S: Don't think i didn't see Visenya's and Vhagar's mention this episode, on the book Rhaenyra opens. My favorite Conqueror and targaryen woman. I cannot wait for The Conquest Prequel. So excited

[aho-dapa]

Just some rambles on The Stranger, and like, by no means am I saying I'm correct about my interpretation, I'm just exploring a different idea

*also, a personal note about death, grief, and parental abuse

Reading the Stranger rn and it's soooooo painfully idk obvious?? Or at least relatable that Meursault is autistic

Like, the book is from his pov but I honestly think his "lack" of emotion comes from his own nebulous understanding of them

He feels content while never saying it but acting it out, and he focuses on moments as if he's been struck by them but can't plainly state why

Tbh, idk, but being sentimental about it, Meursault (and how it's interpreted within him being an absurd character) kills for no reason.

Except there was, aside from the excuses of the knife or Meursault's mood. Its the sun. The sun that supposedly represents the meaninglessness of life and death as something inevitable but

Idk, I'd say to some extent, the sun is ambivalent to meaning, but that doesn't mean it doesn't help life grow or just as equally destroy it either

Rather, it's something that can't be moved by sentiment in this worldview and by extension, Meursault is blinded by the sun

Also just from a personal indulgence, I would say that Meursault's mother is the sun, and so is he too by some extent.

I've heard that people say the dog is his mother, but I also wonder if the dog is Meursault as well

"Why does Salamano treat his dog that way?"

And like, idk I think a lot of Meursault’s limited portrayal of emotion as he himself narrates it makes sense to me with the idea of it all connecting back to his mother

They are inseparable, the same, and they both meet their end

From the perspective of someone with not a great mother, this premise is relatable and maddening, it doesn't make sense, and like to be frank because I've been dancing around it because I feel like I'm projecting but,

With parental abuse and love, there is a sense of both chains and disattachment that honestly terrified me because it came from a place of 'this is how society expects you grieve' and I didn't, not in the way that's viewed as "acceptable" or "normal" either

Also, as someone who lost someone years ago, I didn't grieve by crying or being distraught for months because of it, I grieved by remembering and letting go

As a kid, I understood that my quiet was not what was expected, and kissing the cold forehead of someone I loved after they've died, I've resolved myself to never go to a funeral ever again

In some way, if Meursault’s mother was abusive, from the perspective of a child, these actions are absurd and don't make sense until kids try to either make a reason themselves or they are told

But also. Just coming from an autistic perspective, Meursault doing or not doing certain things at his mother’s funeral is categorized as him not caring for his mother (or at least enough) and like????? His actions have no relation really to his emotions

Idk, I just think I've read a lot of takes that Meursault is completely emotionless and that's like??? Idk, I don't agree at all

Also, I think Meursault's ambiguous relationships and nebulous emotions are the point tbh

(Which allows for literal interpretations like mine)

[gcthvile]

Fractured Soul

Characters: Thiego Strange and Estella Strange

warnings: violence, angst

fandom: marvel

summary: Driven mad by loss, Thiego Strange unleashes darkness; hunting his sister through realities to save her from her death as the evil Darkhold corrupts his soul, damning him forever in the abyss of his creation.

The multiverse swirled around Thiego as he drifted between worlds, shadows of other lives glimpsed through tears in reality. Always he searched, guided by the cold whispers of the Darkhold.

This time, he found purchase in a form all too similar. His grey eyes opened to a mirrored Sanctum, then narrowed as dark magic surged within stolen flesh.

"Stella?" His voice, though not his own, echoed through empty halls. No reply came, setting his new heart racing.

Rushing through familiar rooms revealed only dust and silence. "Hermana, where are you?" Panic rising, Thiego tore through portals to the other dimensions, seeking any trace of her light.

In the mirror dimension, he finally stopped short. On the ground lay a girl, dark hair splayed in a halo of blood. His hands shook as he knelt, rolling her still form over to find eyes devoid of life gazing back, empty of the joy they once held.

A tear slipped down his stolen cheek, but no more sorrow could be felt - only an all-consuming rage. "Who did this to you?" he hissed, gathering Stella's fragile frame in twisted arms.

A presence intruded then, and Thiego whirled to see his alternate self staring in horror at the scene. "What have you done?" the other gasped, backing away in fear and disgust.

His voice a growl, Thiego advanced on the trembling form before him. "I? I have done nothing. But you...you failed to protect her." With a maddened cackle, dark magic writhed between his clenched fists. "For that, you must pay the ultimate price."

The other's screams rent the air, but Thiego felt only a grim satisfaction as he watched the final vestiges of light fade from wide, betrayed eyes. Another Thiego fallen, another Stella lost, but he felt one step closer to his goal - to undo his crimes, no matter the cost.

The sound of shattering reality echoed in the void as Thiego strode between worlds once more. His stolen body lay lifeless where he'd left it, another failure to add to a growing pile of ashes.

He emerged in a city under siege, spells and explosions lighting the chaotic night. A version of himself fought valiantly below, sending bursts of magic towards an advancing horde. But for all his skill, he was outnumbered - and so was she.

A flash of dark hair caught Thiego's eye, and his stolen heart froze. Stella battled back-to-back with her brother, protecting civilians as they fled destroyed buildings. But a mutant slipped through their defenses, claws slicing through the air.

Time seemed to slow as horror rooted Thiego in place. A screech, and Stella crumpled; his counterpart's anguished screams echoed her name to the uncaring stars.

Rage turned his vision red once more. With a wave of crackling energy, Thiego swept the remaining beasts from this world. The other sank to his knees amid the carnage, cradling Stella's still form as sobs wracked his bleeding form.

"You failed," Thiego hissed, dark presence announcing his arrival. Twinned grey eyes, one pair drowned in tears, snapped up to meet his cold gaze.

"I tried—" a hoarse whisper was all that could be uttered past guilt and grief.

A sneer twisted Thiego's face, corrupted by the blood on his hands and madness in his heart. "Not hard enough." Dark magic curled around clenched fists, eager to deliver punishment upon this broken shell who dared call himself Sorcerer Supreme.

Time lost all meaning as Thiego traveled the endless paths between lifelines. Stella's death played out in infinite variations, each one tearing him further into the abyss.

He saw her cut down in battle, ravaged by plague, struck down by common illness - any fate but growing old at his side was unacceptable. And with each failure came retribution, another version of himself destroyed for his inability to keep her safe.

Some Thiegos begged for the mercy of his blade, madness and grief consuming them from within. Others raged and wept, but met their end all the same upon his hands of twisting shadow.

He witnessed Stellas perish by manipulation, falling prey to those who sought to use her gift for evil. Times when even her power could not withstand the horrors that crept in shadows.

And through it all, the Darkhold fueled his rage, whispers dripping promises of undoing the past if only he had the strength to pay its price. Reality unraveled around the edges as Thiego plunged deeper into the void between, losing even the memory of why he quested to begin with.

All that remained was the cold need winding through his veins, to save her or punish any who failed - an endless, maddened loop with no escape but the complete destruction of all that ever was. His soul shattered into fragments scattered across infinities, leaving only an unleashed darkness in his place.

Months passed in the blink of an eye as Thiego drifted through reality itself, shattered psyche clinging to the ruins of a single goal - to undo what could not be changed.

He lost count of the Thiegos destroyed, the endless Stellas who slipped forever from his grasp no matter what path he took. All that remained was the howling emptiness and the Darkhold's cruel song, promises twisting into darker vows with every failure.

Time came when he could no longer remember why he quested, what face belonged to the light he chased through the long tunnels between worlds. There was only the seductive whispers from aged pages, realities unraveling at his merest thought as the book's pull overwhelmed his ravaged mind.

It was then that Thiego returned to his original universe, the first ghostly remnants of a life now lost to the ravages of torment. But where once stood a shining Sanctum and loved ones, now only ruins remained in his wake.

Here, in these bones of a dead world, the last shreds of his sanity fell away into the waiting jaws of the Darkhold. With a wave of crackling darkness to mirror the void within, Thiego rent reality asunder, tearing down all that yet stood with howls of maddened grief and rage.

In the smoking ashes of creation, only he stood amid a dead, formless waste wrought by his hand alone. The Darkhold's calls were silent now, its dark spells fully imprinted upon his blackened soul with none left to enact further tragic mercy upon.

Alone in the frigid dark he had made, the broken remnants that were Thiego Strange knew only an eternal abyss, damned to wander lifeless eternities with only memories of lost lights to keep him company in the lonely dark.

welp, enjoy this tiny bit of angst 😁

tags: @missstrawbs2001 @jackiequick @blueboirick @cherrysft @meiramel @purpleprincessonfyre @ask-missparker @askstevella @therealdaydreamstark @rickb-chaos @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @gaminggirlsstuff

[childotkw]

Not to add another AU to your never ending AU list but, what do you think would happened if Lucerys just takes out his eye in Storm's End...

Do you think Aemond would forgive him? Or even better respect him? Maybe he doesn't participate in the war after that, not knowing what the fuck to do. Maybe he even switches sides?

I've read quite a few AUs (all of them delicious, of course) based around that idea!

I genuinely think that if Lucerys did it, Aemond would be a mess.

The nuances of how the actual event took place would definitely affect his initial reaction (anything from sadistic amusement, vindication, anger, grief or regret) - but I do believe that Aemond wouldn't be able to emotionally comprehend the situation after that first knee-jerk moment.

I see him being largely shocked, and that shock would probably make him come across as cold and detached. In reality, he's just had his entire world upended and is processing.

He's built up an image of Lucerys in his head as a bastard, a coward, a little scared boy unable to leave the safety of his mother's skirts. He probably never thought Lucerys would have the guts to do it, and having that mental image shattered, as well the sudden end to what was a decade-long obsession, would probably leave him feeling unfulfilled. He wouldn't understand his own emotional state.

From there, I'd see a very strange new obsession begin to form. Aemond would be upset that he doesn't feel satisfied at the debt being settled. He'd grow agitated and angry and would probably flip between wanting to strangle a healing Lucerys for being so maddening and being fascinated at discovering this new facet of his nephew.

I imagine after the eye-thing happens, Aemond would be very politely but firmly asked to leave Storm's End because they have to send Lucerys back to Dragonstone (and hope that Daemon doesn't come back on Caraxes and burn them all down for both declaring for Aegon and letting his kid get mutilated in their halls).

He'd arrive back at King's Landing and be adrift. He'd want to track Lucerys back down and figure out this new itch.

Meanwhile Lucerys would have his hands full trying to reign in his parents and siblings after he comes back sans an eye - but would be quietly relieved that all this antagonism between him and his uncle can finally be put to rest.

Poor boy doesn't realise he's just kicked the hornet's nest though.

An angry Aemond obsessed with taking his eye is one thing. An intrigued Aemond obsessed with all of him is a thousand times worse.

[thicctails]

Ah yes, my favorite Gravity Falls characters: No Self Esteem, Going Off The Deep End, and Not Dealing With Trauma!

[ossifer]

i think what strikes me the most about ruby drinking the tea is that even in a scenario where the act of ascendance doesn't irrecoverably alter her, the fact remains that she very much committed metaphorical suicide, in front of wby, shortly after looking yang in the eye. there's trauma abound there.

on the wby side: all of them have to live with the knowledge that ruby was driven to such depths of despair that she would do something that, as interpreted by them at the time, was syonymous with suicide. they have to know that their presence did nothing to stop her. that they failed her in such a way that she ended up running away, right into neo's trap, and essentially killed herself.

they have to go through the period of thinking that ruby, or at least ruby as they know her, is dead. the last time any of them spoke to her was during her ep 7 breakdown, they did not part on good terms. they're going to wonder about what was going through ruby's mind, maybe even question if this was a spiteful act, and it's so maddening to think about. the potential for grief and guilt in the next two episodes is immense.

on ruby's side? hoooo boy — "I'm sorry. I don't want to be me anymore" — she was driven to seek out the closest thing to death there was at hand. she was psychologically tormented by neo, having all her guilt dredged up afresh, her grief over penny played on, and driven to suicide. again, even in the scenario where ruby as we know her survives, she is going to have to live with the fact she got pushed this far.

the fact she could look her sister — who cared for her for so long, who sacrificed so much for her — in the eye, and still be consumed by that feeling. to fundamentally not want to be her anymore. to be something else... oh, that reminds me, remember what the younger ruby said in ep 4?

“You can do whatever you want, be whoever you want! You don’t even have to be Ruby Rose.”

man, that aged well, didn't it? that seed of her wish to change had already been planted by then. how long has it been growing? when was it first planted?

[achaotichuman]

TW: Gore, delirium, and mind-breaking (read for your own discretion)

Forest Monster Tamlin AU (Although he doesn't make an experience all the events in the AU were done by monster Tamlin)

I have like a small story in my head where like a group of autumn court males were sent by Beron to scout out the spring court for weaknesses, mapping strategic points, note any threats or big resistances that would oppose autumn inevitable take over of spring.

And it all went to shit because the moment they entered the more dense forest of the spring court everything started to act strange, the land itself kept changing and shifting, time was almost nonexistent, They felt like they were being watched and followed every single time they kept trying to find their way out of the spring court.

And slowly and slowly they start getting mad, hearing stuff, little giggles a distance away, a small shadow dashing at the court of their vision. Delirious dreams and haunting memories when they sleep somehow came to life.

And then one of them got lost.

They search high and low and they found him by an old willow tree laying there, with mosess covering him. A variety of fungi and mushrooms blooming out of his eyes and ripping through his rib cage. Thick vines root him to the ground while beautiful flowers blossom out of his right eye socket, tearing a hole through his cheek. His stomach was on full display as his intestines were covered in spores and ferns.

Panicking and in distress the group made the decision to move forward, but it seems they simply get deeper into the spring court and slowly the madness, the fear, and the terror slowly gets to them. They started turning on each other, accusing them, ugly secrets come to light.

And after that night by night their number dwindles and dwindles and dwindles, the bodies of their lost comrades found always a few yards away hidden and covered in plants and flora like an infectious disease. A fleshy vessel and banquet for the starving undergrowth to consume and grow upon.

And then it was only the leader, his face horrified and full of pain as he realized his dreams of his men screaming, begging for mercy was him killing them at night. Gnawing at their flesh, ripping them open, only for him to vomit out spores and spores to feast upon the flesh.

The leader couldn't do anything but scream as he ran, and ran, and ran until suddenly he found himself at the autumn court. Maddened, grief-struck, he clawed his face, his neck, his chest until he could feel his veins severing, the pain flaring around his body. And slowly mosses covered his body accompanied by bursting of mushrooms and flowers piercing through his body, thorned fines slithering around his rib cages and digging deep into his lungs, the thick foliage of the plants blocking his throat before it expanded and out of his mouth was a blooming golden rose.

A bright, beautiful golden rose of spring.

A gift of a highlord

This is so sadistically beautiful. For a while I've been fascinated by the idea of Tamlin being able to destroy someone from the inside out using plant growth. You captured this beautifully.

Faeries are known for their sick twisted ways of delivering suffering. I was very disappointed in the acotar series as it did not deliver that. I love the way you think about Tamlin, and your ideas for the Spring Court. The way you wrote Spring as a kind of labyrinth that kept turning and twisting as the Autumn Court males went deeper into it gave me a chill.

I fully believe that the Spring Court should be captured as a far darker place than what it is like in the actual series, and you gave it that. Thank you so much for sharing this with me!

[girljeremystrong]

do u have a book rec that will ruin me emotionally? i want to be upset. but in a nice way. sort of like how la vita è bella makes me upset or a thousand splendid suns makes me upset. i need a bittersweet ending i will think about forever. or something. sorry for the random question shshsjsjs <3 all g if you can’t think of anything i just thought i’d ask you first

of course i do!! ❤️

so here are some book that are upsetting and heartbreaking and made me upset and made me cry:

the great believers by rebecca makkai

i cried and cried and didn't recover for days. a dazzling new novel of friendship and redemption in the face of tragedy and loss set in 1980s chicago and contemporary paris.

the fortune men by nadifa mohamed

how frustrating and sad this was, made me cry and made me mad! the story of a murder, a miscarriage of justice, and a man too innocent for his times.

tin man by sarah winman

why is love so miserable? ellis and michael are twelve when they first become friends, and then one day this closest of friendships grows into something more. but then we fast forward a decade or so, to find that ellis is married to annie, and michael is nowhere in sight, what happened in the years between?

the summer that melted everything by tiffany mcdaniel

this writer is outstanding! when a local prosecutor publishes an invitation to the devil to come to the country town of breathed, ohio, nobody quite expected that he would turn up. they especially didn't expect him to turn up a tattered and bruised thirteen-year-old boy.

betty by tiffany mcdaniel

i cried through entire chapters of this. a stunning, lyrical novel set in the rolling foothills of the appalachians in which a young girl discovers stark truths that will haunt her for the rest of her life. "a girl comes of age against the knife."

swimming in the dark by tomasz jedrowski

so sad and infuriating!!! set in early 1980s poland against the violent decline of communism, a tender and passionate story of first love between two young men who eventually find themselves on opposite sides of the political divide

crying in h mart by michelle zauner

just hundreds of pages about a death so sad and inevitable. a memoir about growing up korean american, losing her mother, and forging her own identity.

the prophets by robert jones jr.

everything about this is upsetting and maddening. a novel about the forbidden union between two enslaved young men on a deep south plantation, the refuge they find in each other, and a betrayal that threatens their existence.

yolk by mary h.k. choi

to me all stories about siblings are intrinsically tragic. a funny and emotional story about two estranged sisters switching places and committing insurance fraud to save one of their lives.

mayflies by andrew o'hagan

so sad but also a glorious celebration of life. a memorial to youth's euphorias and to everyday tragedy. a tender goodbye to an old union, it discovers the joy and the costs of love.

salvage the bones by jesmyn ward

an absolute masterpiece!!! hurricane katrina is threatening the coastal town of bois sauvage. esch and her three brothers are stocking food. she's fourteen and pregnant. as the twelve days that comprise the novel's framework yield to the final day, the unforgettable family pulls itself up to struggle for another day.

tell the wolves i'm home by carol rifka brunt

sad and sweet and also nothing is more heartbreaking than how people with aids were treated in the 80s. a moving story of love, grief, and renewal as two lonely people become the unlikeliest of friends and find that sometimes you don't know you've lost someone until you've found them. in 1987 after her uncle dies of hiv a fourteen year old girl gets to know his uncle's partner.

an american marriage by tayari jones

this woman is an incredible writer! this book is so absolutely frustrating. newlyweds celestial and roy are the embodiment of both the american dream and the new south. but as they settle into the routine of their life together, they are ripped apart. roy is arrested and sentenced to twelve years for a crime celestial knows he didn’t commit.

flowers for algernon by daniel keyes

heart-wrenching!!!! it's the story of a mentally disabled man whose experimental quest for intelligence mirrors that of algernon, an extraordinary lab mouse.

and among the classics:

if this is a man by primo levi

the account of the author's experience from when he was captured to his transfer as part of 650 italian jews from to auschwitz in poland and his experiences until the end.

all quiet on the western front by erich maria remarque

with the fire and patriotism of youth a group of german schoolboys sign up to go to war. what follows is the moving story of a young ‘unknown soldier’ experiencing the horror and disillusionment of life in the trenches.

giovanni's room by james baldwin

an american expatriate living in the south of france, reminisces about his life, while his ex-lover, an Italian immigrant named giovanni, is set to be executed in the morning.

if beale street could talk by james baldwin

a moving story of love in the face of injustice. tishis a nineteen-year-old girl, in love with fonny, a young sculptor who is the father of her child. they have pledged to get married, but tonny is falsely accused of a terrible crime and imprisoned. their families set out to clear his name.

[elliepassmore]

The City in Glass release!

A demon. An angel. A city that burns at the heart of the world.

The demon Vitrine—immortal, powerful, and capricious—loves the dazzling city of Azril. She has mothered, married, and maddened the city and its people for generations, and built it into a place of joy and desire, revelry and riot.

And then the angels come, and the city falls.

Vitrine is left with nothing but memories and a book containing the names of those she has lost—and an angel, now bound by her mad, grief-stricken curse to haunt the city he burned.

She mourns her dead and rages against the angel she longs to destroy. Made to be each other’s devastation, angel and demon are destined for eternal battle. Instead, they find themselves locked in a devouring fascination that will change them both forever.

Together, they unearth the past of the lost city and begin to shape its future. But when war threatens Azril and everything they have built, Vitrine and her angel must decide whether they will let the city fall again.

Bookshop.org

Barnes & Noble

This is a super interesting story, because despite being told in 3rd limited POV via Vitrine, it's very much the city Azril's story. We get to see it as Vitrine remembers it as she grew it the first time, and we get to see real-time how she (and later the angel) rebuild it. The city itself feels like a character, and we get to watch that 'character' grow across centuries and generations.

It's also interesting because this is a love story, but it is not a romantic story. There's love between Vitrine and the city, Vitrine and its occupants, and later the angel and the city, the angel and its occupants, and later even between Vitrine and the angel. While I would say Vitrine and the angel have an enemies to lovers arc, it is not the kind of big fierce romance people may expect from that, but their arc is so good that to write it any other way would be a disservice.

Interested? Check out my full review!

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 3/5

Book Blurb:

In this new standalone novel, Hugo Award-winning author Nghi Vo introduces a beguiling fantasy city in the tradition of Calvino, Mieville, and Le Guin.

A Publishers Weekly Top 10 Fall 2024 SF&F pick A demon. An angel. A city.

The demon Vitrine—immortal, powerful, and capricious—loves the dazzling city of Azril. She has mothered, married, and maddened the city and its people for generations, and built it into a place of joy and desire, revelry and riot.

And then the angels come, and the city falls.

Vitrine is left with nothing but memories and a book containing the names of those she has lost—and an angel, now bound by her mad, grief-stricken curse to haunt the city he burned.

She mourns her dead and rages against the angel she longs to destroy. Made to be each other’s devastation, angel and demon are destined for eternal battle. Instead, they find themselves locked in a devouring fascination that will change them both forever.

Together, they unearth the past of the lost city and begin to shape its future. But when war threatens Azril and everything they have built, Vitrine and her angel must decide whether they will let the city fall again.

The City in Glass is both a brilliantly constructed history and an epic love story, of death and resurrection, memory and transformation, redemption and desire strong enough to reduce a world to ashes and remake it anew.

Review:

A demon who loves a city, an angel who destroys it, and the city that is rebuilt as a strange relationship begins. A demon called Vitrine loves one thing only: the city of Azril. She's raised it and its people for generations but when the angels come the city is destroyed... and now Vitrine will raise it once again... but now bound to the angel that she has cursed. Vitrine's journey through the years makes the city grow and her relationship with the angel changes... becoming something more. This was a quick read, albeit a bit all over the place for me. It had a Good Omens kind of vibe but it just wasn't as fun or as well done. The story is about grief and resurrection and the endurance of love. It's a bit all over the place, there are a ton of time jumps, and the angel's relationship was odd because it just kind of happens and then there's no real shining moment for it. I do love Nghi Vo's writing, and this one was okay for me overall, but I look forward to her next projects!

Release Date: October 1,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Tor Publishing Group | Tordotcom for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*