#I am fighting a losing battle I guess...

[koopaling-headcanons]

Larry is the most sensitive to cold, and as a result a lot of the gifts he receives (aside from video games, sports equipment, and music stuff) from his family are warm winter clothes and blankets. he also likes to sleep in a blanket nest when it gets really cold, and sometimes his siblings will join him and make a sleeping pile.

As someone with Raynaud's disease, I feel this on a personal level.

[talkorsomething]

want to cut my hair again like you wouldn't believe. What are the possible consequences of going bald

[monogramsalarm]

tee hee~ i have only slept 10 hours in the last 3 nights combined~

[theood]

It all just sucks I have to be my own advocate we are so tired of it, you know? I have to constantly pick myself up and say "bad days are just bad days. Not indicative of anything but that." and I have to step out of my body to let someone else who isn't me but is the me we could have been hear that and go "okay!" like it fixes everything wrong with me.

I'm like an unwilling dog who bit the hand that fed it, who can't trust his own mouth. We are tired of that.

I know how I talk about myself effects myself. It changes and morphs the voice thats the loudest in my head.

I lost everything to being mentally ill as a child, I lost everything as young teen and I lost it even more as a "true" teen. And now I have to reconcile with that alone. Because I can't do anything but read resources and apply them to me, and hope that something inside me takes pity and lets us change.

None of this makes sense. I never make sense. I'm just not a human. I wasn't made to deal with all of this. I don't know why I was cursed with humanity. It's good and bad and disgusting and good and good and good. But I can't ever let myself accept that good for me.

And yet. Despite it all. I just have to keep going. I have to see the new day, and feel the sun on my skin and know somewhere, sometime, I'll be better than I was. I have half a promise to heal myself. I just can't wait till I want to do it for myself

[mattscoquette]

𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you slowly notice your boyfriend is falling out of love with you

angst !! cursing, mentions of weed, smoking, arguing, glass breaking, kinda toxic!matt, breaking up

2.3k words

are we awake? am i too old to be this stoned?

the small sliver of sunlight that peered through your curtain danced across your face, causing you to stir awake slowly. a hand reached out, only to find the other side of the mattress cold. typical.

it wasn’t long before the strong reek of matt’s weed filled your apartment, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you peered at the clock next to you, the numbers 6:37 a.m. staring back at you.

slowly, you made your way out of bed and out to the balcony, where matt resided, still clad in his pajamas. a rolled joint was held between his pointer and thumb, dark smoke swirling around him.

“are you seriously high already?” you mumbled, sleep still coaxing your voice as you wrapped your arms around your middle as a means to stay warm.

matt simply looked back at you, his usual blue eyes red and bleary. he gave you a small shrug before holding the joint to his lips, inhaling deeply.

“i guess so.”

for goodness sake, i wasn't told you'd be this cold.

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to question if matt still loved you. you’d been together for a year and a half now, and it felt as though he’d only loved you for the first year.

it started small. little remarks you would tend to just brush off.

“you should wear this, it looks better on you.”

“why are you always in a bad mood whenever i’m around?”

but they never bothered you much. matt loved you. and you loved him. that was the way it always was, and you never seemed to think any different.

and matt was so sweet in the beginning. flowers were delivered to your door every week, along with a handwritten letter from him. your meals were always paid for, and you were almost certain you hadn’t touched a door handle for nearly half of the relationship. now, things couldn’t be more different.

when matt started being mean, you never questioned if he still loved you. he was probably having a bad day, or something heavy was weighing on him he just didn’t feel like talking about. it was never a question if he loved you or not.

but lately, you weren’t so sure anymore. it was rare for matt to be kind. he was also so angry and upset, and you couldn’t just seem to understand why. he acted like you were just an afterthought in his mind, a footnote in the story of his life. like you weren’t his girlfriend, like you weren’t his everything, like he always promised you.

you smashed a glass into pieces

that's around the time i left.

you lost count of how many argument you and matt had this week. there was always something. nothing could ever be okay with you both.

it was beginning to feel like matt wasn’t fighting for you relationship anymore. yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail, just for things to be even a little bit like how they used to be. it was an uphill battle, and you were losing.

you were angrily clearing off the table, not caring if neither you nor matt were done eating dinner. you weren’t even sure what this argument was about. something along the lines of matt bending over backwards for you, when you reciprocate nothing in return. although that couldn’t be further from the truth, you tried to listen. you tried to piece together what exactly it was that you did that made your relationship crumble.

“i just don’t get it y/n,” matt retorted as he stood up abruptly, bringing his dishes to the sink and dropping them in with a loud clank, “why is it that i’m doing everything for you, but the second i need something, it’s a big issue?”

you glared at him from you spot by the table, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. you didn’t want to argue anymore. you just wanted your boyfriend back.

he just scoffed as he turned back around, clearly not impressed with your lack of an answer. matt began to scrub the dishes bitterly, almost as if the plate had done something wrong and he was mad at it, as opposed to you.

“i do so much for you, matt.” you mumbled, keeping your head low as you wiped off the table. no matter how much you two argued, you never wanted him to see you cry. “i feel like sometimes you’re the one who can’t be pleased.”

that set him off.

“are you serious-” he began, throwing the plate down in the sink angrily as he turned around to look at you. the glass shattered, the sound piercing through the kitchen as you two fell silent.

it was an accident, you knew it, but it didn’t stop you from crying more.

you turned to face matt, your eyes red and cheeks blotchy as tears streamed down them. before he could get a word out, you were already announcing that you were going back home.

you said i'm full of diseases

your eyes were full of regret.

it had been a week and a half since matt broke the plate, and things hadn’t gotten any better. if anything, that was the first crack in the glass. matt seemed to be picking an argument all day, looking for anything to make a comment on. no matter what you did, you just couldn’t make him happy.

“can you stop hogging the damn blanket?” matt murmured as he sat next to you on the couch, his arms crossed. he tugged the fabric from your lap to his, shuffling even further away than he was before, his focus returning to the movie playing on the tv.

you looked at his side profile, his demeanor so cold and off putting. where you both used to be cuddled up together under one blanket when watching a movie, now you couldn’t so much as sit too close to him without starting something.

“sorry.” you mumbled faintly. that was starting to become a repeat word in your vocabulary. sorry. you had decided instead of arguing back, you could just be sorry. if matt felt like he was always right, he was sure to love you again the way he used to. how couldn’t he be?

“god, you’re just so annoying sometimes.” he muttered, fixing the blanket once more as his eyes bore holes through you. he watched the way your face fell, a knot twisting in his stomach.

how could he say something so mean to girl he loved so much?

in return, you sighed quietly and shakily, returning your eyes to the tv screen. you’d rather have matt be angry at you everyday than not have him at all.

you used to have a face straight out of a magazine

now you just look like anyone.

for a change, matt suggested you two go out. it was a breath of fresh air for you both. there was almost an unspoken agreement that you two couldn’t be fighting if you were in public. you could each play the part of the happy couple you once were.

you made every effort to look your best. your hair and makeup were done, your outfit perfectly put together after countless hours spent curating it. you took a step back from the mirror, smiling at your reflection. you felt really, really pretty. a small sense of optimism lingered in the air as you made your way down to matt’s car when he said he was at your apartment. he couldn’t possibly ignore you, not when you looked like this.

a small smile played on your glossed lips as you climbed into the car, your floral perfume strong. he offered the faintest of smiles, followed with a small kiss hello. to most girls, they’d be upset if their boyfriend reacted how matt did. they’d want him to compliment them, ruin their makeup. but to you, it was a start. you can’t remember the last time he made you feel how he just did.

the ride to the mall was peaceful. it was filled with small talk, the radio playing softly in the background. the day was just getting started, but you felt hopeful. you felt like today would be a really good day for you and matt, and your relationship was in desperate need of one.

and it was great. it felt almost like what you called “the good times,” the part of your relationship where matt actually felt like your boyfriend. when he actually acted like your boyfriend. he held your hand the entire time you walked through the mall, and carried every single bag for you. at the cash registers, his wallet was out before the total was even displayed on the card reader. the day was almost perfect. almost. the only thing missing was the compliments you craved from matt so badly.

in the good times, it seemed as if every other sentence coming from matt was a compliment. he loved to tell you how much he loved you. at one point, you had even wondered if matt remembered your actual name, because he was always calling you his pretty girl. his.

but today, that seemed to be the only thing lacking. instead, matt’s gaze seemed very preoccupied with the other girls in the mall. his eyes lingered at all of their bodies, the way they would show a little cleavage or expose their midriff. it didn’t take you long to realize the only reason matt was being so kind today was because he could distract himself with other girls who weren’t you.

i just sat in self-pity and cried in the car.

although you and matt had been having problems for as long as you had, you didn’t dare tell anyone. because when you were around friends, you and matt were good at pretending. nobody dared to question your relationship, because there was nothing to question. he seemed to love you the way he always had. it was only behind closed doors when you had problems.

but even though you accepted this was your relationship now, you couldn’t help but remember the good times. it would just hit you out of nowhere, the longing for something that didn’t exist anymore. something that could never be as it was. it was a crushing feeling, really, and the only thing you could do was let it consume you. it would eat at you for days, taking away your appetite and replacing it with a sinking feeling inside of you.

you often found yourself looking back at old pictures and videos, notes from matt and dead flower petals you saved. if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, sometimes you could still feel the way you used to. you’d be lost in your thoughts, living in a deluded world where you and matt were still happy. one where he had eyes for only you, and made you feel like the most special person in the universe. you could still remember how tight he would hold you every night, how he’d look at you like you hung every star in the sky.

then, the reality would dawn on you that it wasn’t like that anymore. you were mourning a relationship that wasn’t even dead yet.

you played a part, this is how it starts.

as the days, weeks, months passed, you felt more and more detached from your relationship. you were waking up everyday next to someone you couldn’t recognize anymore. the spark you two shared was now put out, embers on the ground dying. he wasn’t the matt you fell in love with anymore.

you had stopped trying. maybe if matt noticed you were slowly fading away, he’d do something. but he didn’t. he never did. the two of you had no energy for anything anymore, your relationship on it’s last limbs.

oh, i just had a change of heart.

matt’s couch was something you’d grown accustom to over the last two years. it was your saving grace when he would push you to the point of no return, when you couldn’t even lay next to him to sleep. as the ceiling stared back at you, you heard small creaks in the floorboard as matt creeped into the living room. he looked a mess, his hair tousled in all different directions, the dark spots under his eyes more prominent than ever.

“can i lay with you?” his voice whispered in the darkness as he stood above you. he clambered in beneath the blankets when you gave a small nod, exhaustion falling over you fast.

he rustled around a bit, finally finding a comfortable position facing you. he studied your face, taking in every detail.

“it’s not working out anymore, is it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked back at him. you watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his chapped lips parted and breathing hitched.

“it’s not.”

you both remained quiet, as if you were soaking in the last moments of your relationship. the same way you try to remember everything about your hotel room when you’re leaving vacation, committing every last minute thing to memory.

you stared back at matt, waiting for him to speak. he opened his mouth to speak, closing it when no words came out. he tried again.

“are we done then?”

you inhaled shakily, your eyes fluttering shut. you nodded, feeling the weight of the world come crashing down on you. two years of your life, over like that. before you could even think about getting up, matt’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“can…can you just stay with me one more night?” he asked. “i don’t want it to be over just yet.”

you peeled your eyes open, being met with matt’s sad ones. you nodded your head yes, feeling him instantly wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. just like how he used to. his head rested atop yours, the rhythmic sound of each other’s breathing lulling you both to sleep.

you would both deal with it tomorrow. you would feel the unbearable feeling of heartbreak in the morning. but for now, you could still both be with one another the way you used to. just one last time.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i know i was yapping sm ab needing a break but i wrote this in one sitting yesterday…. also a fanfic to the 1975 is sooo tumblr. pls lmk ur thoughts bc this is very different from what id normally write:) and thank u for 5.1k ! i love u all

[moonstruckme]

hello!! I was wondering if you could do poly!marauders (can be emt marauders if you want) x reader who has sleeping trouble? either trouble going to sleep due to intrusive thoughts and anxiety, or reader who keeps waking up because of nightmares about people dying? I think the boys would be good at comforting her <3 thank you in advance, your writing is always amazing!

Thanks for requesting lovely <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 873 words

James is talking to you in a low voice, so low Sirius can hardly make it out from just behind him. Remus’ short fingernails scratch lightly at Sirius’ scalp while they both try to listen. 

��Sweetheart,” James is near to pleading, “aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah,” you reply, just as quietly. “I am, just…I just don’t want to.” 

Sirius tuts. “You don’t get a lot of choice in the matter, baby. You have to sleep eventually.” 

“I know.” Sirius’ heart aches at how small you sound. You’re fighting a losing battle and you know it, not against your boyfriends but against your body. In some ways, your mind, too; it’s been putting you through a lot these past few nights. He wonders if the idea of sleep has ever made anyone sound so exhausted. “I hate that I can’t wake up, though. It’s like being trapped, it’s…it’s scary.” 

Remus hums sympathetically. His nails skim over the crown of Sirius’ head. “If you can move or make a sound, one of us could wake you,” he says. 

“I tried.” You’re beginning to sound teary, your voice tight. “Last night, you said you’d wake me up, but none of you did. I was screaming.” 

“We couldn’t hear you, sweetheart.” James presses a sorry kiss to your forehead. 

“I know,” you whimper. “Sorry, I know it’s not your fault.” 

Remus’ fingers leave Sirius’ hair, elbow denting the pillow as he sits up to see you. “Hey, come here.” 

Sirius makes way as you crawl carefully across the bed, going to James’ chest instead. One of James’ hands sneaks underneath Sirius’ shirt to rest over his abdomen. Sirius lays his over it, intertwining their fingers. Meanwhile, Remus is tucking you underneath his chin, rubbing long, slow strokes up and down your spine. 

“It’s not your fault, either, dovey,” he says. “I understand that it makes going to sleep scarier when you think that’s what’s waiting for you, but you’re getting yourself all wound up thinking about it. That can’t help, hm?” 

“No,” you admit. “I can’t help thinking about it, though. I…I hate…” You sound like you’re speaking through a blockage. Sirius’ own throat tightens compassionately. “I hate that there’s nothing I can do.” 

Remus sighs, turning his chin down to kiss your head as he continues rubbing your back. Sirius can guess what he’s thinking. They put a lot of work into getting you ready for sleep tonight. God knows you need it, after waking in a panic the last three nights in a row and refusing to go back to sleep. To try and avoid that, your boyfriends made you herbal tea, watched a sitcom instead of the crime show you’ve all been on lately, distracted you with light talk and tender touches. Now, though it’s certainly not your fault, all their efforts are being undone. 

“I have an idea,” Sirius says. “Come here, baby. Give me a hug.” 

James laughs, squeezing Sirius’ middle as you turn over curiously. “That’s your plan? You just want to steal her from Rem.” 

“I can have a plan and want her for myself,” Sirius teases. He shoots Remus a wink, to which his boyfriend rolls his eyes (he loves Sirius, really). “Go on, sweetness. Wrap me up tight.” 

He hugs you back as you press closer to him, feeling the rabbitty fast beat of your heart. His thumb strokes over it thoughtlessly, protective. Sirius thinks these lucid dreams you’ve been having get you more wound up than any regular nightmare, and he can understand why; the thought of you running around in your own mind, terrified and knowing you could make it all stop if only you could figure out how is scary for him, too. He wouldn’t want to go to sleep, either. 

“We’re gonna stay like this,” he murmurs to you. His hand comes to rest on your mid-back, fingertips just between your shoulder blades. Not rubbing, not patting. Just holding you there. “And if you start having one of those dreams, you squeeze the shit out of me. I’ll wake up, okay? I will.” 

“What if I can’t move?” you worry. 

“I’ll feel your heart.” He presses down slightly with his palm, feeling the too-quick bump through your skin. “If I wake up and your heart’s going fast, I’ll wake you up then, too. Promise.” 

It starts to slow. “You think you’ll notice?” 

“You think I’m gonna be able to go into a deep sleep when one of my loves might need me?” he counters. James chuckles, kissing the back of his head. “I’ll be up, baby. And I’ll notice. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You tuck your head in under his chin. Sirius covers it with his free hand, stroking the hair at your temple. He hopes you can hear his own heartbeat. Hopes it calms you enough for an easy night. “Thanks. Sorry for making things hard.” 

“You don’t make things hard,” Remus chides. 

“Yeah,” James says lightly. “What about this is hard? Sirius got what he wanted, I doubt he’s unhappy.” 

You make a soft sound of amusement against his chest. Sirius smiles. “Definitely not,” he agrees, holding you closer. “How about you worry less about being a nuisance and more about going to sleep. Hm?”

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 1

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: 1,462

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, no smut (alluding to sexual situations), heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, etc.)

A/N: I literally haven't written in years. I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

PART 2 => 🦋

"You look like you bite," I said looking at him directly in his eyes. They were a greenish-hazel color that resembled fallen leaves. Nothing about this man's appearance was hard on the eyes. His face, his eyes, his lips, his body, and even his smile were driving me silently insane. His presence was intimidating yet inviting. An aura surrounded this man that demanded attention and took up space.

He stared back at me with a challenge brewing in his eyes. "I do, but only if you want me to. I promise," he said not even hiding his smirk. All I could do was stare at this smug bastard. I knew that he knew the effect he was having on me. If he couldn't see it on my face, the heat from my body was evidence enough. I was getting hotter by the second.

"Mhmm," I said while turning away. I honestly just wanted to see what he would do. I couldn't let this man see me fold this quickly. I wasn't retreating; it's just that I needed a moment to promptly gather myself. I was fucking losing it. We hadn't even spoken three sentences, and I was already struggling to think. I was normally a quick-witted smartass with a lot to say. Everything about this man was short-circuiting my brain, and I didn't like one bit of it.

"Where you going? C'mere, lil' mama," he teased. The way that man's voice had me in a chokehold. It was thick, heavy, and warm like raw honey. All I could do was smile. I paused and turned back to face him. "Why would I come to you when I'm the meal? If you want it, come get it," I said motioning for him to come here. Now, why the fuck did I do that?

"Meal? I'd prefer it if you were dessert. Daddy's got a sweet tooth," he said striding towards me. He was closing in on the space that I was using for comfort. I felt like I was melting in the spot I stood in. I had to think about my next move. I had to do something. I took a breath and relaxed as much as I could before speaking. The last thing I wanted to do was show this man that I was a nervous fucking wreck. "Well, I guess it's a good thing Mama's a baker," I said while winking up at him. At this point, there was no space between us. We were chest to chest, and I could feel every rise and fall between us.

There was no turning back now. The smile that this man wore from what I said had me blushing. I couldn't cover it up even if I tried. Clearly, I had lost this battle, but I would try my fucking hardest to win the war.

We were way past the point of this being friendly or casual banter. The sexual tension was heavy between us, and I had some shit to prove. He reached up and gently caressed my chin. Breaking me from my trance as he spoke, "Focus, mama. Where your head at, pretty girl?" His smile was now even more intense and sinister. It was as if he was feeding off of my nervousness. Was he getting off on watching me react like this? A devil, I tell you.

At this point, all I could say to myself was "fight back, bitch".

"Just thinking," I said looking up at him. I was struggling to keep my composure. I bit my lip to hide the anxious smile I was fighting. He said nothing as his eyes dropped to watch my movements. His eyes flowed from my lip to my body and back up to my eyes again.

Antsy and nervous, I began to rock on my heels shyly. My facade was beginning to break, and I was crumbling by the second. "Uh oh. Is all that big girl energy fading away?" he asked slowly using his thumb to stroke my cheek. "Big girl energy? I'm a grown woman." I snapped back. I instantly dropped my eyes in regret. "Oouu, there she goes," he said raising one of his eyebrows. This man was taking me for a joke, and my dumbass was letting him.

I raised my head to meet his eyes again. "You don't take shit I say seriously. Do you,... Um... Wait, I never got your name," I stated while watching him and waiting for a response. "Yes, you did. I told you what it was. You don't remember? Huh, pretty girl?" he questioned gathering my hand in his. He held my hand while I struggled to remember if this man ever said his name. I couldn't recall him ever saying a name at all. I, for sure, would have remembered replying with mine if he did. Was I that dumbstruck by this man? Did he have me forgetting portions of this conversation?

Then, it hit me. He said a name, but there was no way in hell that he wanted me to call him that. Right? Did he really want me to call him "DADDY"? I couldn't call a man that, especially a man that I just met. This had to be a joke. I was pulled from my thoughts by feeling his hand cupping my chin. He raised my face upwards to meet his gaze. Those striking eyes were piercing down into mine, and I could almost swear his eyes had darkened to bronze.

The growing intensity of his gaze and the faint grip he held on my chin indicated that he was awaiting an answer. "Something tells me you know exactly what my name is. You just don't want to say it. It's okay. I'll get it out of you one way or another, lil' mama," he said laughing. "And how are you going to do that?" I asked raising my hands to play with the lower hem of his plain t-shirt. "Don't worry. It doesn't matter if I got chu yellin' it, screamin' it, whisperin' it, crying' it. As long as I got chu sayin' it, I did my job," he said leaning in closer.

I could feel the warmth of every breath he took on my neck. The heat from that alone was like a smoke signal. I refused to fall prey to my own desperation, but my brain and pussy were now working against each other. I desired to feel every part of this man in EVERY capacity. I needed a closer connection, so I used the hem of his shirt to softly pull him in closer. I wouldn't dare fold that fucking easily. Not like this.

*FIGHT BACK!*

The wheels were now turning in my head, and my brain was in overdrive. I had to finish what I started. He was right about one thing. I WAS A "BIG GIRL". A woman whose thighs destroyed jeans on the regular and who could talk a lot of shit but wasn't going to take much of it. I had to get him while he was close enough to feel it.

"And what job might that be? Huh,....Daddy?" I asked while trailing my hand up his chest to rest on his shoulder. "Mmmm..." he said taking a deep breath. GOT HIM! He removed his hand that was resting on my chin and rubbed the back of his neck. "What? Did I say something wrong?" I asked sheepishly. I was proudly smirking at this point. "Nah. You said everything right," he said smiling back at me.

I decided to take it up a notch. What was the harm in having a little fun? We were only talking after all. I couldn't believe I was feeding into this, but fuck it. "So, does that make me a good girl?" I asked stroking my hand along the back of his neck awaiting an answer.

I could feel the shift in his energy. Desire overtook his eyes. His playfulness had turned primal. "Are you?" he asked tilting his head while watching me. "What's the fun in tellin' you when I could just show you?" I replied as I stilled my hand to rest on his neck. He caught my hand and brought it to rest at his lips. He placed small kisses on the back of my hand. His eyes never left mine. "I guess that settles it, lil' mama. You busy tonight? I think I might have something fun for us to do," he asked smugly.

I knew exactly what this man meant, and I was going to enjoy every minute of it. I just hope he can keep up because...

"Big Mama don't fold, and Big Mama don't quit. If you stay awhile, she'll show you some shit."

Taglist: @avoidthings @brattyfics @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy

[nekovmancer]

I love you, it's ruining my life

bunch sad taylor swift lyrics always has me breaking my own heart writing fanfiction *sighs* guess this is my debut in the gf fandom as a writer !! hiiii

warnings: sfw, gn!reader, established relationship, language, angst

“You are the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made.”

The words still echo even when the sentence is already finished, growing faint as the seconds pass by but never fading at all; still on the back of your mind, replaying over and over again as if they were part of a broken record.

Once spoken, that fucking phrase couldn’t be swallowed back, less forgotten. God knows how long it would take for them to be gone for good, and not a haunting whisper to follow you through your worst nightmares; one of them now becoming reality.

But that’s not the beginning of your history with Ford. No, it's the end. 

Feels like carving the epitaph on a tombstone. In memory of a love which once lived greatly, now may rest forever in the cold embrace of death. Quote, the most terrible mistake I’ve ever made, unquote. Should you credit Ford Pines in the end? The motherfucker who just put the final nail on your coffin?

You wish you could tell him to shut the fuck up and leave you alone, pretending this won’t be anything but another stupid fight you will manage to forget tomorrow. Maybe you could’ve, if you weren’t too occupied with your hollow chest, asking yourself where did you heart go — or if it was too broken to even manage a last beat.

"What the hell did you just say?" you don't even have the energy to shout back at him. It all comes out in a whisper, one that is not enough to fit your anger; less your sadness. Sometimes, you've got to recognize a lost battle. Yet, this one changed the course of a whole fucking war, one you were exhausted to fight. 

So there you stood: the loser. Feeling small and insignificant as one of the particles of dust hovering in the thick air between you. The body count so far: your home, your engagement, your love, your heart. And the last thing you could ever lose, a loss to mourn for all of your days, was already slipping through your fingers.

Just one last battle to thrive: the tears threatening to flood through your eyes, which you were trying hard to keep for yourself. Ford does not deserve them, not anymore, not when he doesn’t show a single trace of remorse.

You knew he meant it, and that was the very reason it hurt so bad. Sometimes, retrieving the knife from the flesh just meant more pain. You should’ve let it there, rooting in between the bones of your ribcage instead of opening a fresh wound. 

"You've heard me quite well." 

Your throat goes sore, unspoken words scratching it, trying to climb out of your mouth. The last sparkle of a long gone flame lights up, enough fuel for you to bite back. "Right. So I am the mistake, while your freaking muse-"

Sadly, the great amount of bad words on the tip of your tongue didn’t have a chance to be spoken.

"Do not bring Bill into this again,” his words cut you off; more bleeding to stanch on the way.  Ford was responsible for the hollow inside of you, a quiet torment bursting out to destroy what was left from the previous catastrophes. Lies pouring from lips which once kissed you so dearly and now couldn’t even speak in your favor. “It was never about him, any of it."

"It's always about him!” frustration wins, and a restless tremble finds your fingers as the volume of your voice grows louder. It hurts to speak, to think — existence itself feels excruciating. Your last strings of hope were now cut, disappearing into nothingness. What’s left, you still don’t know. “There's no you and me, not anymore. Not without Bill, not without the portal.”

A shredded breath has your whole body shaking, your cue to remember breathing; unevenly as it may be, you still need it to survive, no matter how your frenetic heartbeat tells you’re going to the very opposite way. Whenever your anxiety hit such a peak, Ford would be the one by your side. Now, he was standing on the opposite corner of the room, staring at you as if you do not belong there.

In this, you both could agree. It’s been so long since you’re no longer part of his equation, but an unpleasant variable Stanford, the genius himself, can’t solve, which would end up better erased; long forgotten. 

“Fine,” you barely manage a mutter, rubbing your temples to ease off the ache pulsating through your skull. Someone could have hit you with a hammer and the pain would be softer. “Fiddleford is already gone, and now you want me out of the picture,” you capture your lower lip between your teeth, grazing the soft skin. The taste of blood somehow leaves your mouth less bitter, still not enough to stop you from actually being bitter. “Maybe it will give you and your triangle partner enough space to shove that stupid machine up your ass.”

He’s outraged, of course. Bill has become his everything, dethroning you from that spot you once thought was granted forever. How dare you speak so low of him? His muse, his mentor, his… fuck, to think of finishing this sentence is makes you nauseous. 

Storming out of the room with Ford hot on your trails, you let a few tears find their way out. It’s fine as long as he can’t see you crying, nor hear your strangled sobs under his own voice. You don’t want him to be a testimony to your misery any more. It’s terrible already the whole house seems to have eyes staring at you from every wall.

If Bill was actually watching, you can bet that fucking triangle is damn amused.

Your own thoughts are too loud for you to hear what Ford is saying, or best, vomiting at you. Yet, you can distinguish the screaming is there as you lead the way to what used to be your shared bedroom. 

God, when you’ve come this? 

The love of your life now inhabits the skin of a stranger, and you can’t bear his shit for longer than you already did. You could’ve endured anything for your Ford, but that wasn’t him. Where did he go? When did you lose him for good? But it’s a little too late to ask yourself these questions, and you know the damn answers already, so it’s pointless to keep the torture of knowing the truth.

You feel the urge to crash every small piece of triangular shaped decoration on your way. They are everywhere, in every damn corner, even in the pattern of the curtains when not resting upon the furniture — standing in the middle of your family pictures, among vases with dead flowers, a cemetery of memories from better times.

You stop your tracks for a while just to wander your eyes on some of them, lips trembling to conceive a faint smile at the sight of the portraits. One displays you and Ford outside a newly built shack, smiling from ear to ear as your faces are pressed together so tightly his glasses went crooked. If you squint your eyes enough, you can see a red blur in the bushes just behind you — a little gnome hiding just in time. 

Suddenly, it becomes harder to keep the tears away as reality hits you hard. Those times are gone, and nothing you could do would bring them back to you. 

“You don’t understand,” you can hear Stanford clear as day now, as if you had just emerged from underwater and abruptly became aware of your surroundings. Ford has been repeating this same bullshit nonstop from what? Weeks from now. Nedless to say you were fucking tired of such a nonsense accusation. “The work I’ devoted my life to is about to change the whole world for good and you can’t even-”

Your turn is so abrupt that Ford stops himself from finishing the sentence, swallowing a gasp. “Listen to me,” biting your lip to not curse at him, all of your strength is dealt into the final blow — more like a last resort. “You think Bill is about to make you someone as if I didn’t spend the last years seeing you as my fucking north already,” he’s a little taken aback by your sudden burst out, you can tell by the tip of his ears going pink. “I did everything for you, Stanford. Your dream, your house, your anomalies… and what the fuck you did to me in return? Not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as me for months?” shit, saying it aloud only made it sound more pathetic than it already was. “Or having the nerve to accuse me of not understanding you after everything I gave up to be with you in this shit hole of a city?” 

Ford's response was nothing but silence. Of course it was. What could he say on his behalf when you’re damn right? This time, though, you wish you didn’t.

But you waited for him to say something nonetheless. Anything would do, really. Worse than his rage, his hatred and the damn obsession for his muse was the indifference he has been meeting you with.

The meanings of you have been changed in his dictionary long ago. Did it matter now?

Every move of his was strategic, closer and closer to a checkmate — his dream coming true. And if you were to be sacrificed so he could win… well, a side effect. As long as his king was safe, pawns were pawns.

You’ve just taken too long to realise it.

“Don’t you think you can come crawling back to me after this,” it’s a statement more to yourself then to him; a reminder to not let him inside your heart again after all the damage Ford has done. “When your false god gets tired of toying with you, when your ego stops being enough to feed your delusion, I won’t come back to pick up whatever’s left.”

You stare at him — at Stanford’s eyes. He’s perfectly still, aside from the dramatic rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath he takes. While your eyes silently begged him to change his mind, to take back what he just said… his did not show any emotion but resolution.

Ford is a man of science. He would never affirm something with such a conviction if he wasn’t absolutely sure of it. And as it seemed, he thought of you as a mistake with certainty enough to say it out loud and keep his mind until the very last minute.

“Fine.”

So this is it. The end.

“Fine it is,” you wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, dampening the sleeves of the sweater you’re wearing; which is actually Ford’s. You debate whether to leave it behind or keep it with you while packing your things.

Ford doesn’t stay any longer after this. No goodbyes were said, and his last glance upon you earns a cold shiver running down your spine. You could’ve spitted right into his face and he would still be less mad than he was at the moment, thanks to your audacity of blaming Bill on the failure of your relationship. 

It’s not like Ford needed you, or anyone else at the matter. He had gifts you failed to comprehend, and a view where you were the one crawling back to him as soon as the portal was completed.

Delusion upon delusion… which of you were the worst?

You were left alone, but the whole house was watching silently — every triangle window had an eye of its own, and the dark corners somewhat got darker, casting enormous shadows around you.

Ford must be down at his lab, in the company of his muse… fuck, you don’t want to think of them and whatever they did when you’re not around. Which now would mean pretty much every time. 

It’s a bright summer day outside when you leave the shack, but not even the warmth of the sun seems to be sufficient to dispel the coldness clinging to your bones.

Your fingers are still trembling since the whole fight went out of track, and so they stood while you were folding your clothes slowly, still thinking that things would change by some miracle… and now, as you open the door to your car.

You tell yourself to not look back, and shit, it's not easy; especially when your own mind don't shut the fuck up. For the hours you spent wandering around the city, you leave the radio on the highest volume and keep the cool. You come and go until you’ve reached the "you’re leaving Gravity Falls" sign.

With nowhere else to go, you throw your engagement ring out of the window and speed up to God knows where. As long as it’s far, you suppose you’ll be fine.

[rebelliousstories]

Desperate Times and Desperate Measures

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by @infinityfandoms

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Fighting

Word Count: 1,505

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: She always said she would be about as useful as a wet paper bag in a fight. Good thing she never skips leg day.

Consider Donating: Here

“And who is this? I don’t think audiences have had the pleasure of meeting you yet.” The man in the red mask asked, looking at the woman behind Gambit. She looked up, startled at the sudden attention being brought to her.

“Um, hi.” She offered her name, but was still confused as to what was going on with these new people.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re ‘The Druid’ aren’t you,” Deadpool gasped, “sparkle hands.”

“Sure, I guess if that’s how you want to know me. Haven’t heard anyone call me that in years.” She turned back to her bandages that she was wrapping back up. There were footsteps coming closer to her, but someone stopped them.

“Until I know whatcha gonna be doin’, ya ain’t gettin’ no closer.” Gambit snaps, charging a card near the red masked man.

“Oh, I’m not going to do anything to her. I’m a fan really. From one person with a regenerative healing factor to another, I applaud you, my dear.” Wade clapped his hands together and bowed dramatically. She giggled and set down the bandages, before walking over to Gambit.

“We’re alright, hun. He’s just being friendly.” With a hand on his chest, the man turned and caught her eyes. Letting the energy fizzle out and back into his body, Gambit wrapped an arm around her waist to tug her close.

Later that evening, as they prepared to go to bed in preparation of the big battle the next day, she was checking and double checking her stash. Different salves, elixirs, and dressings were being packed away in her satchel to take with her. As she was placing the last bottles and jars in, hands creeped across her waist and pulled her back into a firm chest.

“Neva’ gonna get tired of seein’ you work like dis, chere. Amazes me each and every time.” Remy drawled, pressing kisses to her neck while she leaned back.

“All to make you guys better, hun.” She replied, loving the feeling of his affections.

“Listen, when we in da lair tomorrow,” he began, “you gonna stay back righ’? Stay in da car?”

“Of course, I am. You know I can’t fight.” Her snort made the man smile as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Good. Don’t want you gettin’ mixed up in all dat.”

Her hands came in front of them, and both of their attentions were on it. In a matter of a few seconds, a magnolia blossom was blooming from her palm. Taking it from one hand to the next, she passed it back to her lover. He held it to his nose, and breathed in deeply. The sweetest scent flooded his senses. Gambit tucked the flower into the top of his chest plate, right near his heart.

“Everything is gonna be alright, Remy. We’ll be fine.”

Those seem like famous last words now.

She was staying in the background. Behind the car because she was just not going to stay in an on fire car for anything. So far, no one had noticed her and that was just how she liked it. Keeping an eye on her boyfriend and friends, the chaos around them almost made her lose the line of sight.

An explosion next to her gained her attention, and made her squeak in surprise. Thankfully, she was still virtually hidden from the rest of the fighting going on. Locking eyes on Gambit’s coat once more, she was shocked to see someone sneaking up on his. Of course, all the fighting and shouting made the odds more optimal, but it was still an incredible task to do that to him. When he did not seem to be turning and looking at the attacker behind him anytime soon, she knew she had to do something. Looking around her, she tried to find something that would draw both Gambit’s attention to the attacker, and the attacker’s attention away from Gambit.

So she threw a shoe. Some random shoe that had gotten blown off of someone was what she picked up to throw. And somehow, it worked.

“Uh oh. We done messed up now.” She muttered, seeing the new set of eyes on hers. Taking off, she began weaving through the structure. But that man was close behind.

Gambit only noticed when he heard the sound of footsteps running behind him. A card blew up the spot that those feet had stood in the second prior. Taking a look around, he noticed that there was someone now chasing his girl all through the maze of bars that was Cassandra’s lair. Remy took off after the person, while trying to look ahead to see where she was going. Somehow, he remained just out of range for his cards to reach.

Ducking into a corner, she breathed heavily as she tried to catch her breath. A stitch was deep in her side, and her claves were beginning to cramp, but she couldn’t not stop now. Her life, Remy’s life, depended on it. All the noise around them meant that she would not be able to focus on the bad guy’s movements even if she wanted to. Poking her head out of her hole, she breathed a sigh of relief as she did not see him immediately. But that changed when, from the other end of the apparent hallway, he dropped down. She was trapped.

There was nothing that she could use as a weapon nearby, and her powers were defensive; not offensive. Breathing hard, she tried to steel herself against the awful smile that the man was now sporting. A cool metal bar was digging into her back. Her heart was speeding up. If she fell from this height, she would survive, but her bag would not and that was a greater travesty in her opinion. However, she did not have these thoughts long as a flash of magenta flew in front of her and sparked in front of the man.

“Ain’t ya momma eva’ teach ya how t’ treat a lady?” Remy was here. He shot a wink over his shoulder to her, before going after the man. His bo staff was out and charged, but for some reason it did not seem to be slowing this man down. Finally, he got close enough to stick a card to him, that promptly exploded. But as he walked away, this man just got back up and began to heal again.

Gambit groaned, and struck three cards to the ground, before running and grabbing his girlfriend from the railing. As they fell, an aftershock of the explosion knocked them in the air. He tucked her head into his chest, and cushioned their way down. Landing on the hard ground, both of them groaned as pain shot through their bodies.

“You good, chere?” Remy asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was inspecting her face as his hands ran over the rest of her body.

“Yeah. You?” She replied, doing the exact same thing to him.

“Don’ worry about ol’ Gambit now. Gambit’s fine. I want you to go dat little hole in the side over der and stay der till I come get you.” The man pressed a kiss to her head, a brief one to her lips before rolling them over so he was on top. Slipping a card out from his pocket, he flicked it towards someone coming near, before getting up and joining the fray once more.

Once she had caught her breath, she did exactly what Remy had instructed of her. The little cave that she had found herself in allowed her to keep an eye on everybody, but stayed out of the fighting. She knew where her strengths lie, and she was definitely going to be most useful after the fight. As she watched, her mind kept forming different recipes and mixtures that she could use to help.

The fighting slowed until there was just a few people left. As the group finished them off, she stepped out briefly to watch their two friends jump into the glowing circle and away from the Void. As they disappeared, she ran over to her boyfriend and their friends. He welcomed her with open arms, and breathed a sigh of relief as they stood there.

Taking an assessment on her friends, she immediately set to work dressing some of the injuries that they had but could not heal properly. She felt Remy pat her shoulder lovingly as she was wrapping a spot on Elektra’s back. Turning to him, he just drew her in closer before allowing her to tend to wounds he may have gotten. This was a well oiled machine that had been established over the years.

As they piled into the Honda Odyssey after, their journey home was quiet. They did not know if they were going to be able to go home, or if they were stuck there forever. But one thing was for certain; that shoe was going to live in her head for a while.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is fighting a losing battle.

He’s fighting it regardless – there's something kind of courageous about that, he thinks.

Or maybe it’s just stupid.

Steve doesn’t care, he’s gonna fight it anyway.

The battle involves the stairs – the landing, to be specific, and the way it has become an unofficial final resting place for so much of his daughters' shit.

So much.

He loves his children. He loves them more than anything, actually.

Still, they drive him goddamn insane sometimes. They just – they’re teenagers, right? So they’re spending all their time holed up in their rooms which, fine, sure, whatever, that’s normal enough. But why, then, is their stuff all over Steve’s house?

Steve isn’t the kind of guy who needs the house spotless, or whatever, but he could do without it looking like a tornado-stricken Walmart.

Hair dryers and bottles of nail polish in the living room, Hazel’s makeup all over the kitchen counter, phone chargers and headphones all over the bathroom, and – Jesus Christ – the sweatshirts. Between his three daughters every single surface in his house has a discarded sweatshirt on it, and it’s not like he can do anything about it because he has no goddamn clue which ones belong to which kid and guessing wrong leads to World War-level fighting.

His solution: he’ll just leave all their stuff on the landing so as they head upstairs to barricade themselves in their rooms, they’ll see it and take it up with them.

The problem with his solution: the girls (who he loves so much) just step right over the mess and continue on their way.

“Why the hell am I stepping on fucking hairbrushes going down the stairs?” Eddie asks him one day.

“You wouldn’t be if your children would just bring their shit up to their rooms,” Steve replies drily.

Later, when the girls get home from school, Robbie passes through the kitchen where Steve and Eddie are sitting at the counter.

“Hello, my darling daughter,” Eddie says, “How was your day today?”

“Fine,” she replies, not taking her eyes off her phone as she heads for the stairs just like she always does.

“Robbie,” Steve says, “I left your books on the stairs. Please take them up with you.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, but as she approaches the books it becomes evident that she would be doing no such thing.

“Robbie,” he calls, “Amelia Robin.”

The only response he gets is the sound of her bedroom door closing.

“I’m listing all this shit on eBay – swear to god,” he tells Eddie as he waves a hand loosely in Robbie’s direction in a can you believe this shit kind of gesture.

Eddie replies, “Maybe list her too while you’re at it.”

[redpill-tfs]

Two Wishes

Aaron wasn't surprised when his grandfather left him out of his will.

The two had constantly clashed while he was alive. The retired Republican senator had never approved of his only grandson being gay. Nor did he appreciate his liberal activism. In Grandpa Scott's world, it was his way or the wrong way.

Aaron was fine following his own path in life. But when Grandpa Scott died, he felt a little sad the two hadn't been closer. Searching through the old attic's junk for something to remember him by, he stumbled across an old golden lamp. It looked just like the ones in old movies, covered in dust just begging to be rubbed off.

"Well, I guess I have nothing to lose by trying it," he thought as he picked it up. Sure enough, as soon as he began to rub the lamp, red smoke started to emerge before a hulking figure with a ghostly tail appeared before his eyes.

"Greetings, mortal. I am here to grant your two biggest wishes," the figure said, its arms out wides in a grand show of authority and charisma.

"Isn't it three wishes?"

"Not anymore. That's mainly used in movies to show a lesson being learned. Now we just give two wishes, so choose carefully. The only rules are no asking for more wishes and no bringing people back from the dead."

Aaron thought about it for a moment. He did have one wish right now. Though he'd never really wanted it before, his grandpa's love and approval of him would mean everything to him now. He wanted his grandpa to pat him on the back and tell him how proud he was of him. If that wasn't an option, he might as well ask for the next best thing as his first wish.

"I wish Grandpa Scott was proud of me."

"Granted." The genie snapped its fingers, and Aaron could feel himself start to change.

He looked down at his hands, noticing wrinkles appearing where they weren't before. His back started to ache a little bit, and his hair turned short and grey with age.

"What's happening to me!?" Aaron yelled out. "I didn't want this!"

"You wanted your grandfather to be proud of you. He'd never be proud of the old you and you know that. I'm turning you into someone he'd actually be proud of."

The changes continued as they spoke. His old t-shirt morphed into a crisp white dress shirt, buttoned all the way up. A bright red tie tied itself around his neck and a blue suit jacket draped itself over his shoulders. An American flag pinned itself to his lapel.

The mental changes started next. Memories of coming out of the closet completely vanished from his mind, as his rear entrance closed and tightened, never to be entered again. He'd never do anything sinful like that! He cared too much about his faith to go against God's teachings.

And God had taught him at a young age that Right is right. He immediately registered as a Republican at the age of 18 and had voted red ever since. He ran for office as soon as he was old enough and now the 68 year old has been a senator for the past 30 years, proudly representing his state and traditional values. He considered it his duty to fight the good fight against the godless liberals and their socialist ideals. They may win some battles but never the war. And with the recent reelection of Donald Trump, the tides were shifting once again in their favor.

"How do you feel, Aaron? Remember you still have one wish left."

Oh, right. Aaron had wished for something. He couldn't remember what, though. He had everything he'd ever wanted. A fulfilling career, a loving wife, and proud conservative kids and grandkids who knew God was in control. What else could he want? Standing in front of his workplace, the American flag waving proudly in the background, Aaron got an idea.

Maybe...

"I wish the American people would all believe the values I preach!"

[katyspersonal]

I've had some old gods and Fell God thoughts again

(Reference by Moonlight Ruin ( x ), note that giant skulls can vary in sizes and be like 55m too)

I addressed the arrowhead description at some point before, but again; seeing how there are colossal skulls found across the Lands Between, there were 'old gods' who weren't Outer Gods and the greatsword is a tip of an arrow from their arsenal, they were REALLY big in size! Yet, also humanoid in build

I am not sure what they needed weapons for though. Who were they battling? When there are many colossal skulls, I question if that wasn't a war between their own that didn't leave survivors? Or they've lost whatever that war was? Could they have battled against Ancient Dragons, who also must have used to be bigger and stronger back then, for ownership of Elden Ring? Or it were Drakes that they were fighting, back when they were as big as the one found at Altar of Dragon Communion?

And, yeah, Fell God is never referred to as an Outer God unlike the three others, so what if he just wasn't one? Needless to mention that he is depicted as a humanoid, just cyclopic when old gods otherwise had regular two eyes! Outer Gods are just not humanoid; they're a scorpion-like creature (Scorpion's Stinger is a part of God of Rot), formless being and.. one not shown, but associated with birds!

Hornsent on the other hand envisioned him with two eyes and covered in horns, but it feels more like just an interpretation I think? Since mark of Fell God on Giants that worshipped him is still a cyclopic face with a beard, I guess this look is truer one.. just not that Hornsent would know about that!

Also could Fell God's fire be the source of fire that animates Golems and was used for forges in the Lands Between? A lot of Golems are found in Mountaintops, and they originate from Rauh too; cave where you fight Makar and cave where you fight a Golem as a boss (and find Blue Dancer charm) have Rauh architecture!

Even the Giants' forge itself has Rauh architecture! And.... well, it is forge. Can be used to create weapons. And there is fire in there. And Ancient Meteoric Ore Greatsword is found in the forge connected to Rauh as well! It is also a meteoric ore, the arrowheads of old gods weapons were made of rock from space. And you remember how Fire Giants and Astrologers were allied? A sentiment specified in Sword of Night and Flame stored in Caria, and also Japanese description of Rellana's swords saying "after all Moon and Fire were always together"! And also some Golems using magic too I guess:

Since Makar is a Magma Wyrm, so a person consuming too much Dragon Hearts (a practice of hunting Drakes), and Fire Giants were at war with Ice Drakes, maybe it really were Drakes that old gods were battling with? They were way more big and impressive in ancient history, like the dead guy on the Altar! Heck, maybe Bayle and Placidusax just shrunk in size over having lived for way too long?

Though I wonder whether Fell God was always 'Fell', or he undergone some sort of corruption? Maybe he "came back wrong" after being injured or killed at some point before Marika did it again much later in history? After all Fire Giants but one were dead, Marika realized that the fire of ruin could never be put down! That's why she cursed the last survivor to tend to it!

Basically? Maybe same thing applied to old gods; all of them died except for Fell God? He simply could not, for some reason? He could lose body, but his nature is within the fire of the forge itself...? Feels like something one would do to themselves rather than a natural thing, and he cursed himself with becoming element to lend others flame and weapons for whatever reason needed? Cursed himself with immortality to make world something else, ironically just like Marika did! Though I still love the idea that he is 'evil' because for people the use of his flame was primarily for warfare.. The flame can make rock statues into life, let alone warmth and guidance, but all everyone wanted from it was weapons and destructive power, so it rubbed onto him....

But, yeah, he is a really unusual entity, and really super ancient. As for why potential hostility of his kind towards dragons or drakes, that survived for generations? The idea of "cleaning" the landscape from dragons to build upon freed territory is something ever since Dark Souls trilogy! Elden Ring adops a bit too much from those, might as well :p

____________

P.S.: Nox were super ancient too, not far from ancient civilization and Rauh, and are progenitors of Astrologers and following sorcerers who originally were hostile to the Erdtree same as Flame of Ruin.. Nox also had the Black Moon, and also Night/Moon and Flame are "allies" in this lore, also Fire and Moonlight being allies is also a big DS thing.... if turns out Lord of Night and Fell God were allied and similar entities in nature I am going to have the biggest brain explosion yet. Literally no other ship would beat a yaoi like this

[girl4music]

Those last 2 episodes. Appropriately titled ‘Heart Part 1’ and ‘Heart Part 2’ because my heart is so full. I have so much to say and have no idea where to start with it.

So much happened. Every lead character’s individual arc was thoroughly concluded in a very satisfying way. Even some of the recurring ones got an endgame so there’s a lot to cover in this recap of a fantastic finale and I feel so fulfilled on great storytelling and great representation packed into a neatly tied up ending.

MAJOR SPOILERS: do not read this if you have not seen the finale of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.

I guess I’ll start with Shadow Weaver because she had an endgame that I had predicted. Well, sort of. I said that Shadow Weaver’s arc can only go in 1 of 2 ways. I said it was either personal attainment (villainy) or personal sacrifice (heroism). So I wasn’t surprised when it was the latter. But I wasn’t able to trust in her going that way sincerely until she started attacking that monster, told Catra that she was proud of her, took off her mask and then told them both ‘you’re welcome’. I couldn’t trust that she was sincerely helping them to achieve releasing and channelling the Heart of Etheria’s magic… which by the way, is what almost brought them to the brink of destruction the first time they tried to do it. However, I understood that because She-Ra was the conduit for that, that it could have a different outcome. Still destructive but destructive only to the opposition. I think anyway. I might have to rewatch that part again because I don’t think I fully understood what was going on there. But yes, Shadow Weaver went out in a heroes death rather than was the cause of her own demise out of hunger for power and a desire to attain the magic of the Heart Of Etheria for selfish aim. I was happy with it.

Glimmer and Bow: I decided to talk about these 2 lead characters together since part of their arc involves each other. It was no surprise to me that they would declare their love for each other. I mean Glimmer has always had a crush on Bow and they’ve been the very best of friends since they were children. I wasn’t sure about Bow at first but I knew intense romantic feelings would develop and I’m glad it was Glimmer who said it first. I am a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a kiss on the lips but I think I understand why that was. I’ll get there. Be patient. There’s way too much to talk about first and I really want to save Catradora until the very last section because I’ll have the most to say about them as a lot of their arc informs well… pretty much the whole TV show.

Glimmer individually had more of an arc in the TV show than Bow did so a significant amount of my meta goes to her. It was mainly how she was fairing as Queen but also how useful she could be to the team because of it. Then of course there was Micah. Reuniting with him but having to battle with him because he was an unwilling agent of Horde Prime. I laughed with pure joy when the influence on him ended and he said “Hi, I’m your dad.” I really felt for Glimmer when she was desperately trying to heal him and she said “I won’t lose another parent!” So it was so satisfying for me to realize she healed him and that she poured all the love she could into that heal and when she succeeded, the proud smile that he wore must have made her feel like Queen of the world, never mind just her little town of Brightmoon. She deserves it.

Likewise it was wonderful to see how proud Bow’s dads were of him when he gave that rousing battle speech to the reawakened masses of Etherians, telling them to be their own warriors and fight for their home. It was right that it was Bow to do that rather than Adora or Glimmer because that is what he had trained himself to do from the beginning. He wants to be an archer battling on the side of the greater good and not a historian. So to see his dads holding each other, proudly watching him… it brought a tear to my eye, I have to admit. So beautiful!

Hordak and Entrapta: I had no idea that I would get a closure for Entrapta, let alone Hordak. I did and I’m so happy about it because even though she was only a recurring character, Entrapta buried her way into my science, tech and engineering loving heart (with a spanner and a blowtorch? You will never know 🤣) but I am glad that she got over her obsession enough to focus on what really mattered. Saving her friends.

The fact that what stopped Horde Prime wasn’t Adora or Glimmer or who you would expect, but Hordak and Entrapta? That hit so hard with me. To give THEM the hero moment of defeating the villain. I was like “Oh my god! That’s brilliant!” Because it is. Think about it. Who do you think Horde Prime tortured the most? His Little Brother! I still don’t know if that was literally or not. 🤷‍♀️ Was he actually related or was he just another clone because he did call Catra his “Little Sister” too? That’s still so creepy to me. But yeah, for Hordak to get that moment of retribution was absolutely delicious for me and then for Entrapta to reach him when Horde Prime tried to take over through the Hive Mind? So, so, good! That made total sense and it was brilliantly executed!

Scorpia and Mermista: The only reason to lump these 2 characters together is because they were chipped and controlled the longest that they caused significant damage to Etherians. There’s not really much to say about them other than that they’re going to have huge headaches now that this is all over due to how far gone they were. I mean I’m glad that they were able to save them but I just don’t know what the aftermath will be for them or whether they will be the same ever again.

From the way I watched and interpreted the TV show, I understood that one of the main narrative themes of it was psychological conditioning and I’ve been in awe that this children’s show was brave enough to tell that very dark story,… let alone see it right through until the end because it’s an ambitious, elaborate and difficult narrative undertaking. Especially to do it properly,… which they definitely did. To tell the darkness of… well… basically radicalization and genocide but to do so in such a way that it could teach and motivate kids to develop on their innate judgement and discernment so if - god forbid - they ever end up in that situation, they’ll know exactly what to do about it. With team She-Ra being their idols, they’ll be able to fight conditioning. I can imagine that’s what the creators intended with this and I cannot acknowledge and commend them on it high enough. I think that ND Stevenson and the entire creative team are incredibly courageous and amazing to make this a main thematic narrative all throughout this TV show and handle it with skill and compassion that it does not once come across as too much for PG.

Catradora: (Yes, I’m using the ship name because the way they tie up their individual character storyline arcs seamlessly also ties in with their romantic arc and you do not know how hard it is to find this with WLW ships.)

First off, I want to point out something that may or may not have been pointed out before with Catradora but this is just how it came across to me in the narrative given I interpret psychological conditioning as a main theme within it. To me, a lot of the reason why Catra is the way she is as a villainous character when it comes to receiving love and affection has do with this factor. She’s so closed off and repressed to the point that she cannot even see that she’s corrupting and sabotaging herself. She is a lot like Xena in this way. But a major striking difference for Catra is that she physically loses the one person in the world that stops her from doing this, whereas Xena physically gains that one person. Trust issues, abandonment issues, parental issues all tie in together - but that was all tolerable when Adora was around her. As soon as Adora leaves her behind in the Fright Zone and, furthermore, begins to oppose her as the hero of Etheria, she spirals so hard and so fast that all of those issues - which were always issues caused by the abusive treatment from Lord Hordak and Shadow Weaver - come crashing down one by one on top of her because she no longer has the person who makes those issues just inconveniences for her. Not only that but … it feels like personal betrayal for her that Adora fights her. She genuinely does think that Adora hates her. I mean who wouldn’t if they were in her shoes (paws?) and had the “upbringing” and “nurturing” backstory she’s had? So Catra has this preconceived notion that Adora never cared about her and left her because she thought she was better than her and was chasing after heroic glory and believes that she was too weak to go with her. In a way it’s a personal vendetta out of misunderstandings Catra has against Adora and those feelings are intense not just because the Horde brainwashing is that deep and severe but also because her love is that deep too and she can’t differentiate which feelings are which. So she becomes She-Ra’s mortal enemy because in her mind, She-Ra is what has taken Adora away from her.

But obviously, from Adora’s side, She-Ra was sprung on her, Etheria was sprung on her. In fact her entire world upended once she recognized her life for what it was. A lie. That she was the villain brutalizing innocent people. She couldn’t go back to them even if she had wanted to because everything she had ever knew was fraudulent and she had been coerced and deceived into being a weapon. And what I really like about Adora’s individual arc is that eventually this was revealed to be true on both sides of the war. She was a weapon for evil and for the greater good. But all she wanted - as all heroes do - was just to protect and defend her loved ones. That’s it. Catra could never see it that way though and it makes sense that she couldn’t given her conditioning was even worse as it involved one-on-one attacks from Shadow Weaver as well as whatever the treatment was with the entire group. Catra’s psychological conditioning was much more personal, intimate and isolated so what was ingrained into her had much deeper and stronger layers added on to it. Hers was a solid brick wall built trauma complex. Those are always much harder to recognize and escape from but with the right therapy,… it can be done. Given her issues weren’t so bad when Adora was around her but got much worse when Adora left her… it is clear that Adora represented a sort of therapy for her. Adora helped her keep all the crippling thoughts of self-doubt and self-contempt at bay. But they were on full volume when Adora left and kept attempting to kill her.

Okay, so let’s finally get on to their romantic arc and how the finale not only concluded their individual character representation and development arcs but also ended their ship slow burn. It wasn’t until the fantastic episode of ‘Save The Cat’ did I realize they were going there. See,… to start with, I knew that they were going to become a canon WLW couple at some point otherwise I would have never started watching it. That was the draw for me. That they were both lead characters in a canon WLW ship in a children’s TV show. That floored me. But I was not prepared at all for what I got to see in the finale. It was groundbreaking. It was phenomenal. In fact I’m sure it was life changing for many queer kids to see that kiss happen the way it did. Or… just happen on-screen at all. Look, I am so used to the “implied” and “assumed” and “disguised” when it comes to WLW physical intimacy that I just do not ever expect blatant leaves-absolutely-no-doubt-whatsoever kisses. I certainly don’t expect WLW kisses written and portrayed as “the power of love” kind. It’s extremely rare. To see it in a children’s show nailed me to the floor. But furthermore - added on to that astonishing feat - is that both lead characters overcome all their issues and obstacles through that very act like… a fairytale story. It’s like… when the Princess kisses the Princess, all is well… there’s no stopping either from that point on. It seems corny but it all just depends on how it’s done. But the fact is you don’t see it done between WLW at all. So to see it done WELL alongside seeing it done at all… I mean Indy knew that he had an assignment with this but the phrase “he understood the assignment” doesn’t cover or justify what was accomplished with this and I can’t believe it’s took me this long to see it.

Every TV art/entertainment creator should watch this TV show and regard this finale as the perfect example of what queer representation can and should provide in TV because this was just the epitome of what true love is. But the fact it was between 2 female lead characters.

I can’t even begin to explain how much it meant to me but I will spend the rest of my life trying to express it because this really was a groundbreaking achievement and I will be adding this WLW ship to my very short list of WLW ships that shape and satisfy every piece of me.

I have had the best fucking time watching this TV show and I will be doing reruns of it for god knows how long because I am sure there is so much more there for me just like there is with Xena, Buffy, Charmed, Dragon Ball Z, Wynonna Earp and Arcane. All these beloved shows are timeless to me for a reason and She-Ra is the same.

I hope you all enjoyed reading my recaps of my very first watch of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all. 🎄

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Loved You Then, Love You Now (Jason Todd)

Summary: he's always loved you.

Warnings: fluff

WC: 660ish

Read on AO3!

--

The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual. You and Jason strolled side by side, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets to fend off the evening chill. It had been years since you two were kids, running around the old neighborhood, getting into trouble, and chasing after your dreams. But even now, nothing had really changed between you—well, almost nothing.

"You remember when we used to come here?" you asked, looking up at the park where you and Jason had spent countless afternoons, swinging from the rusted playground equipment and daring each other to climb trees.

Jason smirked, glancing over at the worn metal slide. "Yeah, I used to push you off that slide all the time."

You bumped your shoulder against his playfully. "You were such a brat."

Jason chuckled, the sound deep but soft. "Still am, depending on who you ask."

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, memories floating in the air between you. It was nice, just being with him like this. No Red Hood, no danger—just Jason, the boy you’d grown up with, your best friend.

But lately, things felt... different. You’d catch him looking at you longer than usual, and sometimes, his hand would brush yours like he was about to hold it but thought better of it. The tension between you both had grown unspoken, something unsaid lingering in the air.

Finally, you decided to break the quiet. "Jay," you began, your voice soft, "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Jason teased, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he looked at you. "What's on your mind?"

You stopped walking and turned to face him fully, the weight of the words you were about to say pressing down on you. "Do you ever think about... what we could have been?"

Jason’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you hesitated, biting your lip, "we’ve been through everything together—school, growing up, even losing you for a bit—" You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I’ve always felt like there’s something more between us, and maybe we’ve just been too scared to admit it."

Jason looked away for a moment, his jaw clenching like he was fighting something back. Then, he turned his piercing blue gaze back to you, his voice lower and gentler than you'd ever heard. "I’ve loved you since we were kids."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

Jason took a step closer, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "I’ve loved you since we were kids," he repeated, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. "I just never thought I deserved you. Not with everything that’s happened. But I can’t hide it anymore."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them back, too overwhelmed by the confession to speak. He loved you. He always had.

You let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. "Why didn’t you say anything sooner?"

Jason smiled, that crooked, charming grin that never failed to make your heart flutter. "I was waiting for the right moment. But I guess there's no ‘right moment’ in Gotham, huh?"

You shook your head, grinning through the tears threatening to spill. "No, there isn’t."

And then, before either of you could say anything else, Jason leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, soft, and so full of the love that had been building for years. It felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, Jason rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "Always thought I’d have to fight some villain for you," he joked softly. "Turns out, the real battle was just telling you how I feel."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. "Well, I’m glad you finally won, Jay."

Jason held you tighter, whispering into your ear, "I’m never letting you go."

-

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

DCEU PERM TAGS: @other-fandom-reblogs

[byhimawari]

“Chamomile”

(a RivaMika drabble)

“Captain?”

Really, fate could be so cruel. And he only calls it fate because given how comedically instantaneous this all happened – ‘this all’ being that he, her damn superior, was caught red handed pathetically slipping an envelope of his proclaimed feelings under her door like some lovesick teenager – it’s as though it was simply meant to be. Add in the fact that since that cursed letter is already in her room, he can’t take back the evidence of his humiliation.

But ever the stubborn type refusing to accept he’s embarrassed — because Captain Levi never gets embarrassed; no, not him — he plays it cool.

“Ackerman.”

“What are you doing here?” She asks, her tone a bit more surprised than curious, much to his relief.

“Hall monitoring,” his sarcasm a mask to hide any hint of suspicion, “What are you even doing out at the halls right now? It’s past curfew, you’re supposed to be in bed —“

“What did you just slide under my door?”

And like a fleeting bubble, the relief is gone. Of course it is. It’s Mikasa. Nothing ever comes easy with her, especially not the predicaments he puts himself in.

It’s when she raises a dubious brow that Levi knows he’s lost, that no matter what direction this conversation goes, Mikasa is inevitably going to see the envelope and read it. He obviously can’t take or ask for it back — because if he’s going to lose the whole battle, may he at least keep some dignity — so facing the music is his final card.

Though his mask stoic, he chooses to speak with honesty.

“A letter.”

“A letter?”

“Yes,” his heart races and it beats at his ear drums, but his voice is firm with resolve, “Read it thoroughly. Good night.”

“But — “

“I said good night, Ackerman.”

He feels her gaze on his back as he walks away, and when he turns the corner that, hears her door shut, the click of her lock an echo. By the time he reaches his quarters, she’s sure to have finished reading the letter. Levi tries to block off any possible reaction she may have, not wanting the picture the best in case it comes to the worse.

But still her smile creeps in.

Levi closes his door and approaches his desk, needing to keep himself productive before he’s consumed by the image of Mikasa finishing his letter with what he hopes is the same smile that keeps fighting to stay in his mind.

But on his desk is something that wasn’t there when he left. A small box. Inside the box are transparent mesh tea bags, a blend of tea leaves carefully sealed in each, its aroma herbaceous and floral. But it is what’s under the box that captures his eye: a folded paper. He unfolds it. It’s a letter.

—

Dear Captain,

I promise this is not a prank.

In fact, this is very hard for me to say, which I guess is why I’m writing to you in a letter.

I’m starting to fall in love with you. Actually, I think I already am. I miss you when you’re gone and I’m happy when you’re around, even if you’re grumpy and annoying. You make me feel complete, a feeling I believed no longer existed for me.

I know you’re my captain and that I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. I really don’t know when this happened. Or how. Or even why my heart chooses you despite it all. All I know is in this world of chaos, you are my calm.

And I hope when we next see each other, you’ll let me be yours.

Sincerely,

Mikasa

P.S. Chamomile is good for sleep.

—

He reads it, again and again. He even folds and unfolds the letter just to see if the words remained the same, if what he read is real.

Chamomile tea is good for sleep. Levi looks back at the box of teabags, each beautifully and intentionally handcrafted with care, with him and his poor sleeping habits in mind. Him in her mind.

Just how often does she look at him?

While his insomniac nature is no mystery to anyone in the Scouts, there’s this warmth in her gesture, this thoughtfulness that makes the act feel more than a result of mere observation. And as much as he’d hate to admit, he can’t deny the pull in his heart at the fact that this is the same stubborn brat who picks fights with him like a hobby – endearingly-so now to some degree, enough for him to write a damn confessional – that cares enough to individually tie bags of dried and diced chamomile leaves to help his with his sleep, gifted together with a letter of love…

A heartbeat thuds in his ear and his throat. His breath hitches softly as he looks back at the letter, entranced by Mikasa’s words that quite literally tell him she loves him, the tea a symbol of it. And if she read his letter, which he’s absolutely certain she did, she now knows that he does too.

And that realization alone is enough to tug at the corner of his lips, a rare smile that he’s not trying to hide for once, a smile reserved only for her. Levi’s never felt so elated. They’re in love with each other, now without any doubt, and it feels like a damn victory.

He has to see her.

But first…

—

Mikasa looks at the envelope in her hands, her name neatly scripted on the front with his distinctive handwriting. She doesn’t know what’s more incredible: that her captain just slipped a letter under her door or the fact that she literally returned from doing the very same. Albeit, she left hers by sneaking into his office to place it on his desk while knowing he’s out on night watch. Fortunately, she didn’t get caught.

And the only reason she didn’t get caught was because Levi, unbeknownst to her, was at her door.

Her heart races nervously as she rips open the envelope, pulling out the neatly folded paper.

—

Mikasa,

As I write this letter, I’m inconvenienced with emotions that words often struggle to convey. It’s not always easy to articulate what’s in my heart, but I feel it is essential to share these thoughts with you.

You’re a gloomy brat. Through and through. But it’s the way you carry yourself with grace and integrity, even in the face of challenges that made me fall for you in more ways than one.

And in this cruel life where tomorrow is not promised, I don’t want to live nor die with the regret that I’ve never told you that I love you.

Thank you for being who you are — stubborn, gloomy, and endlessly captivating.

Yours, regardless of not if you’ll have me.

Levi

—

The entirety of his letter was nearly overlooked with that pretentious closure of his, almost scoffing at his audacity. Of course he’d never miss the opportunity to make it clear that everything will always be his way.

Yet, it’s that very audacity that warms her cheeks and curves her lips, the kind that unleashes the butterfly-like flutters in her chest and tells her that this is the ‘calm’ she sought for from him all this time.

Her words and his, both hand delivered, a request…

In this world of chaos, you are my calm. And I hope when we next see each other, you’ll let me be yours.

… and an answer.

Yours, regardless or not if you’ll have me.

—

The smile on her face grows, her eyes softening into admiration and something like relief. His answer had already been ready for her, long before she dropped off hers.

He loves her. He *loves* her. A profound emotion overwhelms her, like that of a lost hope reincarnating into something that tells her she’s actually worth loving. And as she reads over the letter once more, the warmth in her heart and the glisten in her eyes reassure her that she is.

There’s a knock on her door, startling her out of her trance. Figuring it must be important for someone to see her at this hour, she quickly settles the letter down on her desk. She makes her way to her door and opens it…just to see the very man who, per his words, is already hers.

“I figured you’d still be awake.”

She still feels the heat in her cheeks from his letter, and now standing face to face with him knowing exactly how he feels about her, and him knowing exactly how she feels about him, she can’t help but feel bashful.

“Did you need something, Captain?”

He answers with movement, holding out a cup of tea to her, one that she didn’t even realize he was holding this whole time, the steam filling the space between them with its soothing and familiar aroma. Very familiar.

Chamomile.

Chamomile.

Mikasa’s eyes widen slightly in surprise as she gazes at the cup, realizing what it really is.

“Is that–”

“For you? Yes,” he answers simply, though his expression is softer than she’s ever seen it.

He extends the cup to her and she holds it with both hands, gazing down at it with the same confusion but surprise. It hits her then, the actual answer she was seeking, seeing now with certainty that this is indeed from the tea bags she made for him. And by realizing this, it’s clear he did see her gift…and her letter.

“Chamomile is good for sleep.”

A soft hitch of her breath escapes her. Verbatim are those words from her confession, a question written in a form of a sentence in which he alas answered. His voice is quiet but the words are loud, chiming in with this expression on his face, softer than she’s ever seen it, that tells her she got what she wanted.

But did she really? Is he really accepting her love for him? He’s beating around the bush here, his words so far all suggestive but not definite. But then, as though he just read her mind – something he’s frustratingly quite good at – he leans in, distracting her from all her unsureness.

“Yours,” he whispers tenderly, leaving no room for doubt, followed by a fleeting touch of his lips on her cheek, chaste and light as a feather, yet heavy on the promise that he was, is, and will always be, hers.

Just like he wrote.

“Now go to bed, brat, before I write you up for breaking curfew,” he says sternly as he pulls away, but there’s no bite to his tone, the familiarity of their banter turn love language making it all the more comfortable between them. .

Mikasa can’t help but respond in turn, a small smile on her face, “Not for sneaking into your office?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies with a short scoff, and like a warm blanket draped around her, he then gives a soft smile of his own, a rarity in itself, “Good night, Mikasa.”

With that, he leaves her be, and she retreats back into her room, sitting down on bed with the cup still warm in her hands. It’s when she takes a small sip that at last unveils the big smile on her face that she can no longer mask. And with every giddy sip she takes, each flowing through her system like a rush, she realizes that perhaps chamomile isn’t so good for sleep after all.

[two-white-butterflies]

maybe this time

Description: Two old friends meet again, wearing older faces. Well, I guess you know how this works.

In which, you have a flawed relationship, a flawed breakup and a flawed reunion with the one that you love the most.

Pairing: lawyer!thranduil/fem!reader (ethnicity not specified)

Warnings: angst, age gap.

AUGUST 2012

It won't end just because I say no.

Three days ago, the worst thing happened. You found an engagement ring in your boyfriend's coat pocket. Gods, yes you envisioned a successful future with him inside of it - but getting married is too soon! "I think we need to talk," you keep your voice low.

You couldn't even look him in the eye, rather you were focused on the herringbone floors of your NYC apartment. His eyes light up at the sight of you. His girlfriend of five-years. His girlfriend who survived the hell of a law-school with him, and stood beside him while he built his law firm from ground up. His girlfriend. His future fiancee.

"What is it about?" He raises an eyebrow, patting the empty spot on the sofa - motioning for you to sit beside him. You reluctantly comply, burying yourself deep into his chest and inhaling his scent of - well, there is nothing that can describe his scent.

"I found something in your coat yesterday," his grip tightens around your waist. "- I don't think I'm ready to get married." you quickly add, not leaving enough time for him to respond.

There were still a million things you wanted to do on your own. "Oh," usually a very composed lawyer, but now unable to form a comprehensible sentence. "I-I," he stumbled in his speech, unaware that his grip loosened around your body and you now moved away.

"I'm sorry for not taking your feelings into account." He apologized. His eyes were watery, he had unbelievable restraint when it came to fighting in court battles but the thought of losing you makes him cry. "Is there any reason for that? If you are comfortable with sharing?" He asks taking unnoticeable deep breaths.

You stare at the floor again, playing with the rings on your finger. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I'm in a place where marriage is a choice yet." You breathed. "- I'm gonna finish med-school this year. I want to be a neurosurgeon. I don't think that I'll be able to balance that while being married and trying to build a family of our own." You explained.

Both of you unwilling to address the elephant in the room.

25 and 34.

It wasn't an age chasm per se, but you were in different points of your lives. Thranduil was already successful - known in his field as the thorn in every defendant's side, and you - well, no one even knew you in the university that you were studying in.

"I don't even know if I want to have children," your voice turns into a whisper at the last sentence. His features merge into something indescribable - sadness and frustration merged into one.

He's a good man. He's never forced you to do something that you didn't want to do with your entire heart, and it is because of that reason - you're mad at him. Because you know that he'll still stand beside you, make the sacrifice of never getting married or never having children if it meant being with you.

You are not God, for anyone to make that sacrifice for.

"That's alright. Children are annoying." He answers, and you chuckle. "You are so good at lying," you mused. "- but I know that kids are the only thing you want in this life." You read him like an open book.

He reaches for your hands, entwining it with his. "Hey, we're going to get through this. I'm glad that you were comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I completely understand and I am not disappointed." He informs, he cages you in an embrace, and you lean deeper into his touch until both of you were slumped on the couch.

"I know that you feel pressured because all your friends are getting married. I don't wanna be that bitch who sounds so selfish-"

"You are not selfish for being yourself. You don't owe me anything." He corrects, pressing a kiss to your forehead. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Remember in our first date, I asked you what your favorite color was." He reminded and you felt blessed to have a lawyer as a boyfriend, for he seldom forgets.

"Mine was magenta, and you didn't even tell me what your favorite color was that day. All you did was tease me about magenta." You chuckled, although that feeling still lingered on your chest.

"Well, I'd live in a magenta house if it meant living with you." Thranduil smiles, and you remember smiling in return. Phew, that worked out better than I imagined.

It's all going to be better in the end. You'll finish med-school, and deal with neurosurgery. Then hopefully, you do get married to him.

Six months later you were chosen to work in a hospital in Singapore. A country known for being a pioneer in Asian healthcare. It was a pleasure to be here, you made a lot of friends - and were able to learn how to do things on your own, without the help of Thranduil.

Thranduil Oropher Went out to grab some groceries. I got grapes but I remembered that you aren't here ):

You might be time to get over your grape-hate 🙏🏻

Thranduil Oropher Never. I gave them to Elrond.

You aww i bet the twins loved it Seen 4:52pm

A sigh escapes your mouth seeing that he was yet to reply to your message. It was 5am in the morning back in NYC.

He's probably asleep or getting ready for work.

The only difficult thing in working in Singapore was the IDL. When he's awake, you're asleep and vice versa. "Made you some coffee," Anchilee offers, placing the cup of joe on your desk. A sigh escapes your mouth. "Thank you," you mumbled taking a sip.

"Having relationship problems?" She asks, and you nod. "It's really tough since he's halfway across the world," you breathed. "It's pretty usual for couples to hit a rocky road especially because of distance. A lot of them break up, but I think your relationship is strong enough to stand against the test of time." She speaks.

Oh yeah, about that. You have doubts.

Your phone rings. Thranduil Oropher is calling... you slide to answer. "Hello?" You ask. "Hi, sorry I'm in the middle of driving." You hear his voice on the other line. "Drive safe, you shouldn't be calling me," you gently scolded him but he responds with a silence - probably focusing on the road. "How are you?" He asks.

Even after all these years, his voice still brings warmth to your soul. "I'm okay, I'm in the middle of my lunch break and I have to shadow an operation later. How about you? You're a little early for work." You make an observation, and he hums. "Early bird gets the worms. But seriously speaking I want to focus on this high-profile case, anyways, you are free next week right?" He strangely asks.

"Yep, I might spend the entire week playing DOTA, which I do not have an addiction to, an intern just recommended the game to me." You put out a quick disclaimer before he could scold you about the dangers of addiction to online games. "Well, put your computer away because I booked tickets to go there. Let's have fun, maybe look around the city since you tell me you've never done." He says.

You wanted to feel happy, but the smile doesn't reach your eyes. I love him, but I'm starting to love being alone by myself. The life that you built here in Singapore. It is lonely, and you like it.

"That's amazing, do you want me to pick you up at the airport?" You inquired, concern still dripping from your tone. "No, I'll take the train and I'll stop by to buy some iced coffee and fries." He narrates his game plan. You don't doubt his ability to navigate a foreign country.

"Ohh, please grab the ones from McDonalds. It'll be better if you buy the McDonalds from there, the fries here don't hit the same." You requested, and he chuckles. "Okay, I will smuggle American fries to Singapore." He promised.

"Thank you, I love you."

"I love you too, goodbye."

"Bye."

(DECEMBER 2018)

Thranduil never came to Singapore. You had a fight a day before his flight. You won't go into the details, but it was horrible - for the lack of better words. There were two types of fights: one that can be fixed by a few hugs and kisses, and some that are much better unresolved.

Six years later, and you want to believe that you've forgotten about him. My December is sad, because I miss you. You hear the music sing from outside of your door, damn, your neighbor always has that speaker on. A sigh escapes your mouth and you opt to put headphones on, "I swear to god," you mumbled while opening your gmail account to check for any important emails.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol sent an email! Just Now

"What the fuck!" You close your laptop shut.

You open the laptop slightly, as if the email was going to leap out of its feet and jump at you. "Holy fuck, why would he email me?" Your throat suddenly felt dry. You click on the dash and the email appears.

thranduiloropher@oropherlaw.ol

Good evening.

I have a confession to make, the first time I saw you, I liked you.

I've spent a lot of time with people, both men and women, and I've taken them to fancier restaurants than the restaurant you took me on our first date, the only difference was - I liked you, I hated them.

Out of all the people I saw you were the only person to have ordered a pain au chocolat during breakfast. The only person who'd order an iced coffee the first thing in the morning. I told myself, I like this girl. She's going to be my wife.

You have something special inside of you. You have that spirit. You are by far the bravest girl I've ever met. Days, weeks, and months passed. I don't know if it's because you opened your heart to me, but we became lovers. I don't know if it's because I'm good at praying, or if it's just because I'm the lord's chosen. I never thought that love could be this exciting. I love every moment. I love every bit of you.

Your love. Your kindness. Your gentle disposition.

We bared our souls to each other. Because of you, I started believing in myself. I survived through law-school and the struggle of ensuring that my law firm wouldn't fail. Because of you, I found the beauty in law, I started to fight for what I believed in. I began to be a better person. I started to be brave.

Five years together, and I thought we were good. More than five years going on forever, or so I thought. What happened? Why did we break up? I'm writing this email a few weeks after our breakup. Elrond has been scolding me as I've only been staring at my flight tickets for the entire week. I've been calling your phone.

But today, I decided to stop bothering you.

I have decided to let you be, and give you the space that you need. That's why I'm sending this email, six years from today. You'll be thirty-one years old by then. I hope that you are happy. I hope that you were able to do everything that you wanted to do, everything that I stopped you from doing because I wanted you to marry me, because I wanted to chain you to me, unable to comprehend that I was doing the opposite of what you did to me.

I hope that after six years, you're able to decide if you want to be with me forever. I'll wait, knowing that one day, I'll be back. I will do everything it takes to bring you back. I will never lose hope that we will have our second chance.

Yours, Thranduil.

"Shit." The first words that escaped your mouth once you realized that you had been crying. You silently wiped the tears from your eyes. If only you knew that he felt this way back then.

Tauriel hands you a glass of champagne. "Thank you for attending my party. I've been begging you for years now." She places a hand on your back, guiding you to navigate the sea of people in the living room. "I'm really busy in the hospital, and this is my only real weekend after months of waiting." You chuckled, taking a sip of the fizzing champagne.

Honestly, you needed this party after the whirlwind of emotions that you felt last night. "It must suck to be a surgeon, but then again with that paycheck, I'd lick a Walmart bathroom." She whispers the last part in a hush, and a slight giggle escapes your mouth.

"What are we celebrating anyways?" You ask.

"My dad is retiring." She informs, and a chill runs down your spine. Right, her dad works for Thranduil. I hope that he's not here.

"Congratulations, finally the beginning of a well deserved vacation." You forced yourself to speak, finally catching a glimpse of a familiar figure in the crowd. Thranduil, the man that loved you.

He sees you too, and your eyes momentarily meet.

31 and 40.

Tauriel sees your lingering stare. "Oh, that's my dad's boss. Justice Thranduil Oropher, he's single. I think he used to have a girlfriend, but he was too heartbroken and he never dated anyone again." She whispers again, moving you into a more secluded space.

Tauriel is your best friend (in the whole world).

"He's my ex," you blurt out and she almost chokes on her piña colada. "What the fuck!" She yells, her face suddenly red at the sudden reveal of the truth. "Why did you break up with him?" She interrogated.

Obviously, no one in their right mind would ever break up with him. He was everything that a woman desired, tall, handsome, intelligent and rich - and things wouldn't have ended the way it did, if the circumstances had been different. "I get it that you're this beautiful hotshot surgeon, but he's seriously the only man who fits your standards. Correction, the only living man." Tauriel glares at you.

She was going to give you another monologue about how you 'fumbled the bag', but alas you will not give her that chance. "It's a long story. We just had really wrong timing," you shook your head.

It could have ended differently.

You should have said yes to his proposal, regardless of the feelings of sadness you felt at first. "Maybe this time?" Tauriel raised an eyebrow, teasing you. "Maybe not," You giggled.

"Hello," a voice from behind you greets.

This better be -

You are greeted with an unfamiliar face. "I'm Aragorn. Nice to meet you." He greets and you introduce yourself while shaking his hand. He was quite an eccentric looking figure, he had a clean shaven face, and he had a tattoo on his pointer finger.

"Oh you're that guy in the band." You smile, remembering the nights you spent singing his songs. "Yeah, the Fellowship." He confirms.

"- I'm sorry for ambushing you, but I felt alone in a sea filled of distinguished professionals dressed to the nines, and I don't mean to offend but.."

"I'm alone." You cut him off with a chuckle. "- it's alright, I basically have no social life as my work takes up the majority of time." You explained. To other people, being on the call 24/7 was hell, but to you it was the good type of hell - if saving people can be called that. "You are the surgeon friend of Tauriel." He remembers.

"Are you friends with her too?" You inquired and he shakes his head. "A friend of a friend," he corrects.

Before you could reply to him, he glances at the man behind you.

You turn around, and see Thranduil.

"If you will excuse me," Aragorn pats your shoulder.

The sight of him still brings such warm feelings to your heart, filling your body with joy. There was silence between you. A silence that seemed to speak louder than words.

"You still look the same," he breaks the silence. "You look different," you answered. He had a different hairstyle. He wore a black suit instead of the dark blue that he always wears. He smelled like powdery flowers instead of after-shave. He is different.

"I hope that that's a compliment," he cracks a smile.

Wow, you're beginning to sound like two old friends, but he doesn't want to be friends. He doesn't even want to talk to you unless it all goes back to normal. "How you've been?" You asked, mirroring his smile, attempting to navigate a conversation with him. "I've been worst, how about you?" He answers vaguely, no longer able to speak random flowing sentences about small occurrences in his daily life.

His response was a generic response now.

Something that flows languidly out of his tongue.

How are you? I'm okay. Are you alright? Yeah.

"I think I am worst," your nose scrunches up.

He stares at you, the same indescribable look that he wore when you first fought. How about now? His eyes said. Let's try again. His silence said far louder than words. "Do you think that things could have ended more differently?" You inquired, and he is bitterly reminded of your bluntness (a feature he still adores.)

"You got the email," he smiles bitterly.

"I managed to read through it, and I don't really know what to do." You shrugged, the distance between you becoming closer and closer. "You can delete the email." He jokes, "- I felt really guilty when we called things off. I felt like I was losing the love of my life, and I was. I did. But I was also really thankful that it ended, because being alone taught me a lot of things. I'm not the same person anymore." Your teeth burrows into the insides of your cheeks.

"It was the wrong time. We've never good timing," he comments, and you are thrown back into that video you made during New Year's Eve 2010, where you were both a minute too soon in celebrating the New Year. "I'm miserable." You admit.

Five friends. A million dollars in your bank account. A real estate portfolio, and you were miserable.

His features softened.

And you knew that he was miserable too.

"When you're a judge, you learn how to look at life in a different perspective. They say that criminals are vital to society because without them there wouldn't be cops, or lawyers or Justices like me. When you left, I figured that heartbreak is vital because it means that there is more room for love. But despite that, my heart still didn't have room for anyone - no other love other than yours, no other sadness." He takes a step forward, and you were thankful to have been in the secluded part of the gardens.

"- but if you love me just because you love me, that is not an enough reason. Love in its essence cannot feed a starving mouth. There needs to be respect, and kindness. Respect and kindness that was there between us, six years ago, but wasn't strong enough to fight against the test of time." He places his hands on your shoulders.

"Let's start again, as stronger people, and maybe this time it'll be the right timing." You proposed, your eyes having a conversation of its own. Love is always a beating risk, but that is part of the thrill.

A bird falls from its nest to learn how to fly.

"Let's try again, then." He agrees, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And somehow, that forehead kiss was more intimate than any kiss to the lips.

A/N: will always stand on the fact that if Thranduil was in the modern era he'd be a lawyer or a businessman. I always end up choosing lawyer cuz of personal opinions.

If you love my Thranduil fics just follow me and turn the notifs on. I unfortunately don't have enough time to do tags :((

Inspired by Starting Over Again (2014) although, I am not a Toni Gonzaga defender.