#I hope we get to see more of them in the future

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 5

Source for pic

Trouble 5

Word Count: 4660

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Dead Animals Mentioned; Reader in a terror-like state; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: Ohhhh, we about to start shaking things up by the next chapter! I'm so freaking excited!!! I hope you like this one, tell me all about it!

Masterlist

“Wow.” When Nami said yacht, you thought of one of those sleek, modern-looking boats. Not a pirate ship lookalike. “This is cool.” You state, still in awe at the monstrous ship you're staring at. 

“It's suuuuuuper cool!” Franky exclaims, more excited than anyone on the dock, and you can't help but agree with him. 

The ‘few people’ Nami mentioned are definitely more than twenty - you stop counting - but you recognize some of them: school friends or some neighboring kids from growing up. Others are Franky’s coworkers and buddies, and then there's an array of people that are friends of a friend. 

Anybody who's anybody wants to be at Franky’s party. 

And Zoro’s going to be late. 

You sigh, taking the steps on the plank that leads up to the ship's deck as Nami shoulder-bumps you. “He'll be here, love.” Vivi stifles a giggle when you groan in embarrassment at being caught. You don't even pretend to be thinking about something else, it's all futile with these girls. “In the meantime, let's get you some liquid courage so you can loosen up when he gets here.”

-*-

Zoro had a terrible shift. He hates doing paperwork. It's all so utterly boring. But Captain Mihawk is always grinding him, so he needs to file his reports or he risks getting on the Captain’s bad side. And that's something Zoro would like to avoid if possible. He’s pushed Mihawk’s buttons more than once. 

He doesn't want to go back to traffic control. 

Still, even though what he wished for most at this moment was to pop a cold one, prop his feet on the coffee table, and pretend to watch something on TV until his eyelids drooped down from exhaustion, he's rowing a freaking tiny boat, to get to a huge freaking ship, to attend Franky’s freaking party. 

Just because you're there. 

And he freaking wants to spend time with you. 

Even though he's arriving at the party two and a half hours late - who the fuck changed the road to get to the dock? - just so he can see you. 

Fucking heart. 

With a grunt and a final sigh, he stops the boat near Franky’s ship and uses the ladder his friend left for him to climb aboard. Much like a freaking pirate. 

Then, after a few ‘hellos’ to familiar faces, he makes his way to the bar to grab that cold beer he was craving before settling against the railing on the upper deck to get a good view of the party. 

He won't even pretend that he's not looking for you. It's exactly what he's doing. 

Somehow, his eye zeroes in on you in a split second. And it's not only because of the fact that he always finds you but because you are attracting attention to yourself. And not only because of the insane flailing of arms you're doing - is that supposed to be dancing? - or because of the way your laughter echoes around the deck. It's not even because you look effortlessly gorgeous in your outfit. 

It's because you're magnetic. 

Your simple presence commands the attention of everyone around you. Men and women alike, but the dudes feel bolder. They smirk and wink, they brush their arms against you and whisper words your way. You brush them all off, turning your attention to Nami and Vivi, but some are persistent. They linger near you, revelling in any bit of attention you care to give them. 

And it's making Zoro feel insanely jealous. 

Also, the fact that you're absolutely wasted doesn't help with your naturally clumsy disposition, so it's only a matter of time before you face-plant the grassed deck of Franky’s ship. 

That, or the idiot following you around like a puppy dog catches you with his filthy mitts, and Zoro is forced to throw hands. 

Which he can't. Because he's a cop. 

“So, I’ve got you all figured out, Roronoa…” Zoro smirks, already anticipating the teasing that’s bound to come, and he turns his attention to his friend.

“I don’t know what you mean, Nico.”

Robin chuckles against her wine glass and tilts her head your way. Zoro follows her gaze and can’t help the involuntary way his lips purse as a growl threatens to escape them. The idiot near you is still trying to get your attention.

“You don’t? Well, it’s quite simple, really, I’ve read it a million times. We follow the lovable female protagonist around, watching as she slowly falls for the male main character, revelling in the little things he does for her… like protecting her…”

Zoro’s eye twitches at the same time you swat the idiot’s hand away from your waist.

“And then comes the male character’s POV… and you know what we find out?”

Zoro sighs, his patience wearing thin and ready to snap. “Do tell me.”

“That he fell first. And waaaay harder. It’s quite endearing.”

The beer tastes more bitter than it should as he chugs it down and places the bottle on a nearby tray. “Meaning?”

“Act on it, dummy. Or are you going to wait forever?”

Zoro’s eye never leaves you. His jaw moves as if he’s weighing his options. Then he releases a heavy sigh. “Fuck it.”

So, clenching his jaw and muttering more curse words, Zoro heads downstairs. 

Just in time to see Nami slipping you another colorful drink. One mystery solved, Nami is the one that got you shit-faced. 

You thank Nami with a smile, but as you turn on your heel, you slip - obviously - and the fucking idiot dares to steady you by the waist. A growl climbs up Zoro's throat, but before he reaches you, you're thanking the man and moving away from his grip. And then your eyes light up as you see Zoro approach, a huge smile replacing the fake one you used for the asshole, and Zoro smirks, his jealousy suddenly gone. 

“Zo! Finally!” Fuck. He gets all weak in the fucking knees when you call him that. Who's the idiot now? 

“Hey, Troublemaker, making trouble?”

“Yes!” You giggle and sway your way closer to him, so he steadies you by the upper arm, ignoring how touching you just makes him want to touch you more. “I'm so drunk!”

“I can see that. Thank you, Nami.” Zoro turns to Nami, who beams and raises her own glass in a mock salute. 

“Oh, right! Thank you, Nami!” You say, and Zoro shakes his head in amusement. 

“Don't thank her, Trouble.” You giggle, and he sighs. “So, am I stuck babysitting you again? I don't suppose drunk you is easier to babysit than normal clumsy you?” It doesn't matter how annoyed he may sound. He doesn't mind babysitting you. 

“What? I resent that, Officer.” You giggle and stumble on your feet as he drags you away from the dance floor and herds you to a lounge chair. 

“Sit. I'll get you some water.”

“Nooooo!” Your nails bite into his arm as you cling to him, and the way your scent envelops him with the proximity almost makes him stagger. “You just got here, don't leave me already. I want to spend time with you!”

Zoro groans as his heart skips a fucking beat. What the hell? 

“I'm just getting you some water.”

“But I already have a drink!” You raise your glass, and half of its contents spill to the floor, missing your clothes by inches, though you barely notice it. 

“I see that.” Zoro reaches and removes the glass from your hand, ignoring your protests and forcing you to sit down. “But I'm going to sober you up before you hurt yourself, okay?” He points to the bar that's just a few steps away. “I'll be right there.”

“Boo!! Party pooper!”

Zoro runs a hand over his face. He doesn't mind babysitting you at all. But he needs to keep his fucking heart in check. It doesn’t help that Robin was right. 

He fell first.

He fell harder.

He just doesn’t know if you fell too… 

-*-

You didn’t know being on a ship could feel so dizzying. But it’s as if the boat is shaking harder with every step you take. 

It can't be all the drinks you've had, can it? How many have you had? It's hard to keep count when Nami keeps shoving them into your hand. 

She said something about liquid courage, right? What did you need that for, anyway? 

With a heavy sigh, you watch Zoro leaning against the bar to ask for a water bottle. It had something to do with that green-haired doofus who makes your heart go wild. You're sure about that. 

“Hey, gorgeous. Can we finish our dance?” Rob Lucci, one of Franky’s coworkers who you’ve met earlier sits near you, wearing a lopsided smirk, and you raise your brow. What does he mean by ‘finish your dance’? You were dancing with Nami… 

“Beat it.” Zoro's grunt saves you from any kind of answer, but Lucci simply scowls at him. You can see Zoro's jaw twitching, and you realise how handsome he really is. “Scram, man, leave.”

Lucci stares at you one more time, but seeing as you don't say anything to keep him there, he calls it quits and disappears just as Zoro hands you the bottle and sits next to you, muttering something you can't discern through his teeth. 

“Drink.” He orders you, and you squint your eyes, trying to look menacing. 

“You're not the boss of me.”

A heavy sigh parts his lips as he closes his eye to keep it from twitching in annoyance. “Can you please drink some water?”

Your smirk gets lost against the rim of the bottle as you comply. After a few sips, you set the bottle aside, your smirk still in place. 

“You know what I've just realised?” Zoro opens his mouth to answer but you don't even let him. “You're a really handsome man.” Zoro's reaction is priceless. The tips of his ears turn pink as he opens and closes his mouth, at a loss for words, for once. “Look at that jawline… and your piercing eye? What the hell happened to the other one? You didn't have that scar when I left…” 

Once more, he opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt him. “Hey! I'm not complaining, it gives you a dangerous look. Unattainable. Scary. Like… Like a big dog.” You smirk at his dumbfounded expression. “All bark and no bite, though. Like a… Golden Retriever! Oh, no. Those are cute…”

“Oi, Trouble, I'm only going to let this slide because you're wasted.” Zoro's ears are still red, and the way he's getting flustered is fuel to your fire. 

“I am.” A devious giggle leaves your lips as you continue to tease him. “And look at these muscles…” His bicep feels like hard rock as you wrap your fingers around it. “So firm and…”

Shit. 

“I bet you could pin me easily.” 

Shit. You should just stop. 

Zoro's eye widens, and you feel his arm tremble slightly against your grip. 

“I mean… With these muscles? Imagine that, Zo, you could pin me against a wall, trap my wrists with just one hand–”

“Stop talking–”

“... and I wouldn't even be able to move a muscle. You could press yourself against me and–”

“Trouble, stop talking.”

You should. Where's your filter? 

“... I wouldn't even be able to wiggle out of your hold, I mean, you're really strong!”

Zoro closes his eye, one hand running over his face as he takes a deep breath. 

“Are you imagining it?” Your question is innocent, but Zoro's red face confirms it without him needing to answer it. “Zoro?” He looks at you, brow furrowed in concentration, and you can almost see how he's trying to focus his gaze in your eyes and not on your lips. “Kiss me.”

Shit.

-*-

You're trying to kill him. 

That's the only explanation he can come up with. Why else would you be saying these things? 

Pin you? Fuck! The way that image is now running through his head is more dizzying than any alcoholic beverage. 

“Kiss me, Zo!” You try again, and it's only proof his hearing is more than fine. It takes him a beat to find his voice, and when he does, it's raspy and affected. 

“You're drunk.”

“We've established that already. Now kiss me.” You shuffle closer to him, and he gets up abruptly, taking two steps back and leaning on the balustrade of the ship, hoping the crisp, tangy ocean air cools him down. 

“No.”

He answers, and you also get up, swaying on your unsteady legs and sauntering over to him, reaching your hands against his chest to steady yourself. 

A groan leaves his lips as his hand instinctively holds you by the waist to help you stand still. 

“Zo…” 

“Trouble…”

You lock eyes with him for a second before he feels your fingers probing his chest muscles. 

“I mean… They feel rock hard! How do you do this?”

Zoro sighs. Fuck. He's barely holding on to his sanity as it is. 

“I work out. You should drink more water.”

“No. Kiss me.”

“You're drunk.”

You stamp your foot against the deck, and that gesture should be childish and immature, not cute! 

“I know! Kiss me.” The way you dig your nails against his chest through his shirt makes his brain consider how they would feel running across his naked skin. So, he closes his eye and takes a deep, steadying breath. 

“You'll regret it in the morning. You're drunk.”

Has he said that enough? 

“Someone very wise once said that drunken words are sober thoughts.” You quip at him with a very proud smile and a hand landing on your hips. 

His lip twitches upwards, and he lets out a small chuckle. “Nami says that.”

“You can't deny she's wise beyond her years.” You smirk, and he chuckles harder. 

Then someone bumps into you and you stumble against Zoro, who steadies you and tries to scowl at the asshole who wasn't careful but he's long gone. And now you're staring right at his lips, a wistful look in your eyes. 

“Kiss me.”

He wants to say no. He should say no. You're drunk. You'll both regret it if your first kiss happens like this. 

But it's so tempting. 

Just say no, idiot. 

“I'll kiss you when you sober up.” 

Close enough. 

“But I want it now.”

Fuck.

“What's going on, here?” Nami's mischievous voice comes out like a lifeline on Zoro's sinking ship.

“Oh, thank God!” He groans.

“Zoro is being mean!” You pout, and Nami laughs. “He doesn't want to kiss me!”

Is there a shovel that Zoro can use to dig a hole in the ground? Would Franky be too upset if he broke a few boards to just… disappear? 

“He doesn't want to kiss you?” Nami gives him the stink-eye, though laced with heavy amusement, and Zoro lets out a low growl. 

“She's drunk.”

“Drunken words are sober thoughts!” Nami quips back, and you gasp, holding her arm and pointing at Zoro in accusation. 

“That's what I told him! And he still won't kiss me!”

Nami laces one arm with yours and tugs you to her side, the curve of her lips lifting upwards while she stares at Zoro. 

“It's alright, sweetie. If big, bad, meanie Zoro won't kiss you, I'm sure we can find someone who will.” What the hell is Nami playing at? “I know Sanji is all gentlemanly-like, but we can see if he kisses you, how about that?”

The low growl that leaves Zoro's lips sounds foreign, even to him. But the thought of the cook, no, the thought of any other man daring to kiss you is enough to make him seethe. His grip on your waist tightens, and he pulls you closer. 

“She's fine right here.” He warns Nami, trying to convey that her joke is not funny with his actions alone. 

“But she wants a kiss, Zoro.”

“Leave it, Witch.”

“I don't want Sanji's kiss, though, I want Zoro's.” Zoro will not admit to anyone how your words made warmth spread through his chest, but he's sure Nami can see the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks and ears, judging from the way she cackles. 

“I know, sweetie, I know you do.” She shoves another water bottle in your hand and giggles, clearly a bit inebriated herself. “Keep drinking this, then. The liquid courage worked, now sober up and the grumpy man will give you that kiss.”

What the hell is Nami talking about?

“Everyone, look up in the sky!”

-*-

All the urge to get kissed by Zoro vanishes with Usopp’s plea. Turning your head upwards and fighting vertigo, you witness in awe as a different array of fireworks explodes in the sky, casting bright colours above the ship. 

“Zo…” You whisper, hoping he's finding the view as magnificent as you are. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yes, Trouble, it's… beautiful.”

You don't quite know why his voice sounds so raw and vulnerable, but the one second you take your eyes away from the sky, you swear you find him staring at you before looking back up. 

But another loud bang distracts your thoughts, and you pat your pocket to try and find your phone. 

“It really is. I need a video of this.” You can't find your phone anywhere, you're sure you placed it in your pocket… Maybe the other one? 

Nothing. 

Then someone bumps into you again, making you hit the balustrade with a small yelp. You hear Zoro grumble and yell at the person who hit you, but he decides to check on you instead of following them. 

Another beautiful blast in the sky steals your attention, and this time you do find your phone. In the exact pocket you were searching for it. 

Strange. 

Or not, since you're absolutely wasted. 

You finally get your video. Zoro hovers near you because you keep leaning on the railing to try and get a good angle, and you're pretty sure you're giving him a small apoplexy every time you do that. 

Afterwards, you keep sipping your water, but Nami drags you to more dancing and partying, though you notice Zoro still watching your every move, probably making sure you don’t hurt yourself, nothing else.  

After a while, you gravitate towards him again, a smile plastered on your lips and still with a sway to your step. You're still drunk. 

But before you say anything, Lucci, who was dancing near you again, follows you, grabbing you by the upper arm to turn you towards him. You sway more than you should and register a low growl behind you before he smiles at you. 

“Hey, gorgeous, want to grab a few more drinks now? I hear this ship’s got some bunks somewhere, maybe we–”

“I thought I told you to scram, Lucci. She's taken.”

You feel heat blooming in your cheeks as Zoro's gravelly voice rings near your ears. His hand rests on your waist as he pulls you back towards him, and you feel Rob Lucci's fingers lose their grip around your arm. 

“Woah, man, sorry, I didn't know. Thought you were just friends...” Zoro mumbles something between his breath as Lucci retreats, though his fingers still grip you tightly. 

“Taken?” You grin, turning around to face him with a raised brow, your hands finding purchase against his forearms. 

“Well, yeah.” Zoro looks away from your eyes, and you see his throat bobbing up and down. “Figured it was the fastest way to send him on his way.”

“Oh, so it was mere convenience?”

Zoro opens and closes his mouth, but then a giggle escapes your lips as you sway some more, gripping him tightly. 

“You're still drunk, so yeah, we can call it convenience.”

“You're so grumpy, Officer.” He sighs and shoves another water bottle in your hands. “Ohhhh, do you have your handcuffs with you?” A mischievous grin splits your lips and Zoro grabs hold of Robin's arm, who happens to be strolling by. 

“Nico, take over. I can't deal with this conversation right now.” He says, exasperated as you open your mouth in shock. 

“Heeeeey! Come on, Zo, I was just teasing!”

But he's already asking Robin to keep an eye on you as he disappears into the crowd.

“What did you tell him? What scared off Roronoa Zoro?” She asks, amused, and you chuckle but don't answer. Maybe your filter is returning? 

-*-

The party lasts long into the middle of the night, and by the time the ship docks, you're already sobered up, though your steps are still wobbly and uncoordinated. Zoro offers to take you home, since you rode with Robin, and you just nod at him, too mortified to try and utter a full sentence his way. 

Maybe he won't bring up the way you blatantly threw yourself at him. Is it too much to ask? 

But it doesn't take him five minutes into the drive to start chuckling. You don't ask why he's amused, you know better than to walk right into that trap, yet he doesn't really wait for your curiosity to kick in. 

“Why so quiet, Trouble? Are you reconsidering your life choices? Maybe silently vowing never to drink again? Or maybe to stop listening to Nami's advice?”

A groan is all you allow before you hide your face behind your hands. Yet, he's relentless in his teasing. 

“You're a really handsome man, look at that jawline.” His impression of you is anything but accurate, yet it's enough to make your stomach churn. So you really said that to him, it wasn't just your imagination! 

“Kiss me, Zo.” 

Oh, God, that too? A desperate whine is all the sound you manage to make while wishing to disappear into the car seat. 

“But my favourite? You could pin me easily.” He lets out another chuckle. “I wasn't expecting that, Trouble.”

“Please, please stop, Zoro. I'll never drink again, I swear.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much.” And then he laughs. A real laugh. 

That is enough to make you leave the safety of your hands and stare at him, his lips still curled back, brows slightly scrunched, and an easy expression on his face. 

“Was that a laugh?”

“What do you mean? I laugh all the time.”

Shaking your head, you turn fully to him, all previous mortification forgotten. “No. You chuckle, you smirk, and sometimes you snicker. You don't laugh.”

Silence surrounds you as he enters your driveway and parks the car in front of your porch. Then he makes eye contact with you, the semblance of a snicker still ghosting his lips. “Guess now I do.”

You barely have time to register what that could mean before you both exit the car. You're embarrassed at how Zoro has to steady you as you climb the steps because the world is still spinning, but at least you're of sound mind again, so no stupid words will leave your mouth now. 

“Are you regretting the way you behaved, Trouble?”

You stop in front of your door, one hand playing with your keys as you take a deep breath. 

“No. Not all of it, at least. Drunken words really are sober thoughts, I guess.” You whisper, making sure your eyes are locked with his and trying to ignore how your heart is thrumming against your chest.

“All of them?” Zoro's tone carries mischievousness in it, and you bite your lip to stifle a smirk. 

“Yes.”

He takes a step forward, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, a place he touched so many times tonight, but not once did it burn like now. 

“Are you sober now?” He lowers his voice as his eye lingers on your lips. 

“I am.”

“Good.” Zoro leans in, head tilting slightly to the side. “Because I'm going to kiss you.”

You barely have time to let out a gasp before his lips touch yours. Your eyelids flutter shut, and just as you're about to reach for his neck and deepen the kiss–

Beep, beep, beep… 

Your phone alarm starts blaring in your pocket, an obnoxious sound that disrupts the night - and the moment - making you both groan as you fall apart. 

“Are you kidding me?” Zoro grumbles, though without any real bite to his words, and you fumble with the device, trying to make the annoying sound stop. 

You finally manage to silence it, and you giggle nervously. “I'm sorry! I didn't set any alarm, my alarm sound isn't even this obnoxious, I don't know what happened and–”

Zoro tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger, a devious smirk on his lips as he leans down again. “Let's try this again, shall we?”

Your stomach flips, and butterflies take flight as your heart skips a beat. 

But just as your lips brush together, his phone starts ringing. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He complains taking the phone out of his pocket, a frown on his lips as he sees the name. “It's the station, I need to answer this.” Then you witness his expression somber as he paces back a little. 

Just like that, you know your moment is over, so you sigh as Zoro hangs up the call. 

“It's an emergency at the station. I have to go.” You can actually see the annoyance in his face and the slight tinge of dissatisfaction in his eyes. 

“Maybe we can finish this another night?” Perhaps there’s still some alcohol lingering in your blood, because that was very bold of you. 

Zoro is already skipping down the steps, two at a time, but he stops near his car, leaning on the open door and smirking at you in the most devious way you’ve ever seen him.

“Trust me, Trouble, next time I won’t stop. Even if the world is ending.”

You’re still smiling giddily at his words when you enter your home and lock the door. You can’t wait for what happens next.

-*-

Zoro lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. Setting his phone in its holder, he dials Captain Mihawk’s number and sets it to speaker.

“Roronoa.” Mihawk’s gravelly voice answers after one ring.

“Someone took out his eyes? What the fuck?” Zoro still can’t believe what he heard earlier.

“We don’t know much yet. They had to perform urgent surgery on him. We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

Zoro’s foot presses down on the pedal, still riding under the limit, but barely. “What kind of sick fuck would do that?”

“We don’t know. But there’s a possibility you saw him tonight. After all, it happened at your friend’s boat party.”

Fuck.

“Where’d you find him?”

“A dock worker found him. Wrists bound, eye sockets empty, in shock.” Mihawk’s voice is curt and methodical, a voice of someone accustomed to gruelling murders and grizzly stories. After all, he’d spent far too long in the big city and seen too much.

“Anything else?”

“A note.” A clue. “Pinned to his chest with a nail. It said: ‘She’s mine.’ Nothing else. We’re still running it for prints or other evidence. Sounds like a crime of passion, jealousy, possession, perhaps?”

Zoro’s teeth grind together. Something feels fishy about all of this. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. A crime of passion seems far too simple…

“Sounds like it. I’m about to pull up, talk soon.”

His heart constricts as he thinks of you. It might be just a coincidence, it has to be just a coincidence… What are the odds, really? What happened can’t have anything to do with you… Still…

After spending the night following you around like a puppy, Rob Lucci is found hurt, maimed, with his eyeballs missing?

Zoro releases a heavy sigh and shakes his head again. Maybe he’s reading too much into everything. You’re safe. And he’ll make sure you stay that way.

That’s all there is to it.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22

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Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

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One way or another, you’d made it through the engagement announcement, but your life still showed no sign of quieting down.

Ever since word had gotten out that you were Xeno’s fiancée, nobles kept paying your family visits, no doubt hoping to amass favor with you as quickly as possible. Of course, you saw right through their fickle appearances, but you were still obligated to meet with them and pretend like you cared. It was simple politics of the court. You’d been a high-ranked noble all your life, but you still weren’t quite used to being the center of attention like this.

That would have been all well and good, but as was true of most nobility, there were always those who insisted on poking their noses where they didn’t belong.

A certain countess visiting you had said this:

“Oh, my dear. You must be thrilled to be engaged to the Crown Prince. The rumors that you were already seeing a man must have been false, then.”

You’d done a good job of keeping your cool, but on top of her blatant rudeness, it was clear that she was accusing you of having an illicit relationship. Rumors were just that—rumors. Nevertheless, you’d never had there be such lies circulating about you. And surprise, surprise, they’d started just as soon as you’d been revealed as the Prince’s future bride.

You remembered Annalisa’s bitter expression back at the palace a few days prior. She had clearly been boiling with envy. You couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d probably been convinced that she would secure this position for herself, and to suddenly have it torn out of her grasp must have come as a shock. You also didn’t want to jump to any baseless accusations, but it seemed like a fairly reasonable guess to assume that she was probably the one who’d started spreading the rumors.

If she really is, then that only makes me respect her even less.

Xeno had described her as “filthy”, but he hadn’t really explained what he hated about her so much. You were sure he must have had his reasons, though. Especially if she was willing to resort to petty propaganda like this.

“My goodness,” your mother sighed, wiping her brow off with a handkerchief. “It’s been terribly busy. I think we’re going to have to hold off on any more visitors for a while. There’s just been far too many of them.”

“I’ve gotten quite sick of them as well,” you muttered.

“Is something the matter, sweetheart?”

“Nothing too serious. Based on what some of the nobles have been saying, it’s sounds like someone’s been spreading some rumors about me seeing another man.”

She went silent for a few moments, then pursed her lips in contemplation. “Well, that’s to be expected. Many families are bound to be jealous. They were probably hoping to marry their own daughter off to the Prince. Don’t let these rumors get the best of you. We know it isn’t the truth, and without any proof of the matter, you’re untouchable.”

“Yes, I agree. I suppose I’m just a little annoyed.”

“Why don’t you pay a visit to the Temple?” she suggested. “Go pray, take your mind off things. It would be good to have a priest bless your engagement.”

“Hm. Maybe I will.”

It had been a while since you’d gone down to the Temple. Besides the monarchy, which was the main governing factor of the kingdom, the Holy Temple and the High Council were also consulted when it came to making large scale decisions. Ultimately, the crown still got the final word, but a great deal of power was entrusted to these other two organizations. All nobles were required by law to be approved by the Temple before being allowed to serve under the King. You couldn’t say that you were a very religious person by nature, but every now and then, it did feel nice to have a quiet, safe space where you could focus on your thoughts.

You were escorted just outside the Temple by a handful of servants, since you were apparently a “big” deal now, but they didn’t try to overstep and follow you inside. As always, you could feel the entire atmosphere shift the second you stepped into the building. Light still filtered in through the stained glass windows, but the Temple was always softly lit, even with the smattering of candles laid out all around. Being inside here always gave you a chill. There was some sort of strange energy that filled the walls, and it brought you an inexplicable sense of peace.

There were hardly any people at this time of day. Most came in to do their prayers first thing in the morning. Regardless, you weren’t playing on staying for long. Just a few minutes sitting in silence and clearing your head would be good enough.

You made your way around the pews, headed to the frontmost-facing row. Just as you were about to sit down, one of the doors by the altar swung open and a man stepped out.

“Oh. Lady [Name]?”

It was one of the priests, Mihael Veron. He was the youngest member of the clergy, and he was beloved by the people for his gentle smile and kind mannerisms. Even as far as practicing religious men went, he was practically a saint. He was distractingly handsome too, which you berated yourself for thinking every time you laid eyes on him. He’d been working as a priest for just about three years now, and needless to say, you’d developed a bit of a crush on him.

“Hello,” you smiled back, cheeks slightly warm. “It’s very nice to see you, Father Mihael. I feel like it’s been quite a while.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “My, isn’t that because you’re constantly skipping out on your weekly sermons?”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled guiltily.

“Ha-ha. I’m only kidding. Religion is a highly personal thing. Everyone has their own unique connection to God. You should only come to Temple whenever you feel comfortable doing so.”

“Yes, but still… I’ll try to be better about it.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lady [Name]. I was hoping to see you soon, though, in order to congratulate you on your engagement.” He smiled warmly. “I’m sure you and your family must be very happy with this arrangement. Though I admit, I was a bit taken aback to hear about the announcement so last-minute.”

You fidgeted in place. “It’s, uh… a little difficult to explain. I don’t really understand it either, but it seems like the King and Queen must be really excited for their son to get married.”

“Well, of course they would be, when it’s with someone as lovely as you.”

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the burning sensation on your cheeks. His clear blue eyes were so piercing, yet calm and reassuring at the same time.

Maybe going to Temple more often wouldn’t be the worst idea.

“Lady [Name]?”

“Y-Yes?!” you squeaked, absolutely mortified by the thoughts currently running through your mind.

Mihael just let out a soft chuckle, looking more amused than anything else. “My apologies. You looked deep in thought, so you must not have heard me. I was just saying, if you’d like, you can light a candle and I’ll read a few passages aloud for you. It won’t be a full sermon, just a little something to bless your union and lead the both of you forth in good health.”  

“Oh, that would be perfect, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Here, follow me.”

He picked a fresh candle out of a basket and handed it to you, then gestured for you to light it and place it along with the other lit candles. You did so, and once you’d set it where it belonged, you slowly closed your eyes and allowed the sound of Mihael’s gentle voice to fill the room.

It was a peaceful feeling, perhaps even more so because Mihael was the one reading the passages. There was a reason he was so loved. Initially, the other clergymen had thought less of him because he was so young and inexperienced, but with time, they too had come to cherish his presence. He was the Temple’s pride and joy.

After some time, Mihael’s voice eventually came to a stop. He waited for you to open your eyes and smiled again. “How was that?”

“It was lovely,” you beamed. “Thank you. I’m not all too familiar with most of the passages, but even if I couldn’t completely make sense of all the words, it still filled me with warmth. There were some worries on my mind earlier as well, so I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m very happy to hear that. This is a safe place. If you ever feel yourself becoming overwhelmed, you are always to come here.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Mihael leaned forward, his hand coming to rest just atop your head. You flushed, a bit confused, but certainly didn’t complain when he started gently stroking your hair.

“I am overjoyed for you, Lady [Name]. I will pray each day that you and the Prince have a long, happy marriage.”

He was so earnest, so genuine in his enthusiasm on your behalf, that you didn’t quite have the heart to tell him how you truly felt about Xeno. You just stood there, relishing in the warmth of this gentle, selfless man.

His hand eventually dropped, and he almost looked disappointed as it did.

“I should be going now,” you said. “My servants are waiting outside for me, and there’s a lot I still have to attend to now that word’s gotten out about my engagement. You know how nobles can be.”

“Yes, of course. I wish you the best of luck with all your endeavors.”

You thanked him again, and waved back at him up until you’d reached the entrance. You then turned and pushed the door open.

If you’d waited just a second longer before turning away, you would’ve seen his smile drop.

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[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (6) – New Beginnings

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Post-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, plus-sized reader, virgin reader, virgin Steve Rogers, fluff, implied smut, first time, romance

A/N: A short last chapter.

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1​

Catch up here: A fresh start (5) - First dates

A fresh start masterlist

“Doll?” Steve gasped. “I thought…I mean. You’re so beautiful and sweet. I can’t believe you never had a man before me. There must’ve been dozens of guys interested in you.”

“None of them were you,” you replied, gently touching his cheek. “Maybe I was waiting for the right man, and he sits right before me.”

“Same!” He hastily said. “I meant not a guy, but the right girl. I once thought I found her, but we weren’t meant to be. Now that I met you, I know what love is.”

You giggle because this is the sweetest and cheesiest thing to say. “I love you too, Stevie.”

“Thank fuck!” Steve exclaimed before kissing you softly. He moaned against you, feeling his heart flutter.

“No swear words, Captain,” you said, and cupped his face to deepen the kiss. “But I’m glad you love me too.”

Your confessions didn’t make things awkward between you and Steve. If anything, it made you both realize you have so much more in common than you thought.

His friends gave him advice and tried to strengthen his self-confidence. Steve didn’t listen. He didn’t want to lose his virginity in a hurry for the sake of having sex.

Steve wanted to do things right. He’d taken you out on dates and organized romantic dinners. Steve even went so far as to sign up for a cooking class to learn how to cook for his future wife.

One afternoon, he invited you to a romantic picnic in the park, and the next week, he enchanted you with his first homemade dinner.

You only fell harder for the charming superhero. He proved over and over again that he’s more than a handsome face. Steve Rogers is a kind soul and a sensitive man.

When you both were ready to take the next step in your relationship and after Steve assured you he was here to stay (even though you already knew that much), you let yourself fall.

Steve and you didn’t rush things. You started with soft kisses, gentle touches, and grinding against each other. You were both nervous and, to be honest, a little clumsy.

He was scared to hurt you, and you were afraid he’d be disappointed after seeing you bare for the first time. You were both wrong.

Steve couldn’t take his eyes or hands off you. And you weren’t afraid of getting hurt only because your boyfriend is enhanced. He was gentle and careful, always asking you if you felt good or if you wanted him to stop.

You clawed at him, refusing to stop now that you were finally united with the man you love.

It was worth waiting for Steve. He was a passionate yet gentle lover, and all you hoped for. Even though you ripped three condoms because your hands were busy exploring your bodies.

You laughed about it later, looking at the used and destroyed condoms lying on the ground. Because let’s be honest, Steve can do it all day and night.

Four months later you look at Steve, tears in your eyes as he kneels in front of you. His friends cheer him on as Steve asks the most important question.

“Doll, Y/N,” he whispers your name lovingly. “You’ve changed my life forever, and only because of you, I could save the world one last time. Now that I gave the shield to Sam, would you give me the honor of wearing my ring?”

Bucky and Sam held their breath as you stared at their friend for a moment. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Stunned, you watched the man you love kneel in front of you, his smile fading with every passing second.

“Fuck, what if she says no?” Bucky whispered while Sam prepared a speech to help Steve cope. “She wouldn’t do that. Right?”

“Why do you ask me?” Sam retorted the moment everyone clapped their hands. Bucky and Sam watched Steve put the ring on your finger before kissing you fiercely.

“Great! Now we missed it!” Bucky grunted.

Sam glared at Bucky. “And whose fault is it, old man?”

“Guys, are you ready to celebrate my engagement now, or do you want to fight some more?” Steve joked as you grinned as Bucky and Sam glared at each other. “Doll, I’m sorry. They come in a package with me.”

You both laughed wholeheartedly before sealing Steve’s proposal with another passionate kiss. Soon you’d be wearing not only his ring but Steve’s name too.

THE END, for now...

[sugarplumfairy888]

Blitzø: The Provider and Future Chronic Stress

Another thing about Blitzø that many people do not see is that he is always the one that provides the most for his loved ones.

For example, in GhostFuckers, we learned that it was Blitzø who managed to get IMP a big office and he went through many ordeals to do that.

Another example is when he tried to steal Stolas grimore. If you have noticed he did not get Moxxie, Millie, nor Loona involved in the heist, he was by himself at the time. Not to mention, he was the only who had to prostitute his body to Stolas in order for them to use the book for their job.

As we all know he along with Loona live in a one bedroom apartment, and Blitzø gave that only bedroom to Loona while he slept on a lofty couch, which as of now is Stolas’s sleeping place.

Basically, Blitzø always provides for others but, he does not provide for himself. He struggles by himself and never ask anyone for help.

In a way, he is the Princess Carolynn from Bojack Horseman in HB. Two successful business owners who are parents that take care of others but not themselves.

Blitzø will always care for found family in IMP and will go for any ordeal or sacrifice to provide for them, especially since he is their boss and he feels responsible for them but, is that a good thing. Yes but, also NO!

As of Mastermind, Stolas is living under Blitzø roof, taking his former sleeping spot, and he is a sheltered prince who lost his status and does not know how to provide for himself, which Blitzø feels responsible for.

And cherry on top, as of Sinsmas, Millie is pregnant, which she is not happy about. Blitzø may feel responsible in trying to help provide for M&M baby since he is the one that pays them and gave them this life.

Overall, Blitzø always providing for others and less for himself could lead to severe stress.

I hope in season 3 or 4, they will elaborate more that. I believe there will an episode similar to Skips Stress from Regular Show, where Blitzø will receive chronic stress due to dealing with Stolas, Millie’s pregnancy, and running his company.

I hope the creators elaborate on his habit of taking care of others and not himself and they give him a break for self-care. MY POOR BABY LIZARD HAS DONE SO MUCH!!!

BLITZØ, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOUR FAMILY BUT ALSO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOO!!!!

[distinctlywhumpthing]

It's Never Too Late for Christmas

Alright, look. This might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written. It's barely 1000 words so don't anyone come for me saying I've gone soft. Probably takes place a few weeks after First Night Home. Due credit to @deluxewhump's Wishbone for getting me thinking of the smell of Home. Wow, see what I did there: Full circle.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

“Merry Christmas!” Leo says, immediately wanting to dial it back. He holds out the repurposed brown grocery bag between them. 

Aiden looks down, one arm crossing over his torso. “But...mmm’it’s not…” 

Definitely too much enthusiasm. 

Leo lowers the bag. “Right, yeah. I just thought—well, we only missed it by a few weeks…you know back when we met. I mean… It seemed like…” 

Why had this seemed like a good idea again? 

“It’s nothing big,” he tries but Aiden won’t look at him. Like Aiden’s the one who misstepped instead of vice versa. The kid grips his own arm like it’s a lifeline, fingertips digging into his flesh. Never mind that he’s wearing just a t-shirt in late February. Even with the heat a few degrees warmer than he used to keep it, Leo has to bite his tongue to not ask if he wants a sweatshirt. He tries to limit his questions to the ten thousand a day he can’t avoid. 

“I didn’t even wrap it really,” Leo rushes to say. “It’s never too late for Christmas. ‘Honour it in your heart and try to keep it all the year’, you know—” God, stop talking. “‘Live in the Past, the Present, and the Future’—”

Well, at least he got the kid’s attention. Albeit paired with a confused and I’m-embarrassed-for-you grimace. 

“Please, just take it. Put me out of my misery.” 

Aiden takes a half step back but he does. 

Because Leo told him to. Fuck, this was a terrible idea.  

He holds the bag from the bottom with both hands, as gingerly as if something might be alive in there. His eyes flash up to Leo’s before he reaches inside. He opens his mouth once, twice, like he’s trying to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he looks to Leo for permission again. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” he says absently, still stuck on what Aiden stopped himself from saying. 

The way the kid reaches into the bag with all the gusto of sticking his hand into a live fire hollows Leo’s chest. Once his fingers meet fabric instead of whatever horrors he’s expecting, Aiden pulls the bundle out with a little more conviction. 

Leo relieves him of the bag, fingers unconsciously creasing it back up along all the seams, as he watches Aiden unfold the jacket. For the past few weeks, he’s lent Aiden his Carhartt and carried rather than worn an embarrassingly retro ski parka. 

“I—” He looks at Leo, something between disbelief and awe in his face. 

“Try it on—I mean, you can try it on if you want to,” he revises. 

He threads a skinny arm through the first sleeve. 

Leo reaches around to hold the jacket so he can reach the other. “It’s the same size as mine…so you can wear more layers while it’s cold.” 

Aiden fingers the ends of the sleeves. “Thank…you...” 

“The color suits you,” Leo blurts, caught off guard by the shy smile Aiden’s trying to hide while inspecting the coat. A total one-eighty he hopes isn’t just Aiden placating him. 

–––

“Aiden? Are you ready?” Leo calls up the stairs as he heads to the door to get his shoes on. “We need to leave in two minutes if we’re going to—” 

He’s already there. 

Standing by the door with the Converse pulled on, the laces tucked inside, and wearing Leo’s jacket. He bites his lips together as he pulls the zipper up, slow enough for Leo to stop him. When he reaches the top without interruption, he lets his gaze slide over to the new navy jacket, still hanging from its hook, and back to Leo. 

He lets out the laugh he’s been holding in and pulls on the coat. “I knew there was a reason I got this in my size.” 

“Color…mmm’s-s-suits…you,” Aiden says, tucking his chin into the soft collar of the old brown jacket, hiding what Leo is sure is a grin. 

Leo scoops him into a hug. “You’ve been plotting this from the beginning, haven’t you?” He swings them side to side a little, the gentlest roughhousing. Aiden shakes his head against Leo’s chest, he’s laughing now but trying to hide it. “This is absolutely not going to work when I buy you workboots. We are not the same size.” 

Aiden’s reply is muffled so Leo pulls back just far enough for him to lift his head. “Layers,” he repeats, barely able to get it out before he’s shaking with laughter again, pressing his face into Leo’s shoulder.  

“You’re incorrigible.” Before he can overthink it, he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. He smells like home. His home. H— 

Leo backpedals against the possessiveness before he even completes the thought. 

But the part of him that spent countless nights wondering if he’d wake up to an empty house finds it profoundly comforting. The evidence that on the basest, organic level Aiden belongs to this home. Has been engrained in its rhythms and smells. The fabric softener from the sheets he tangles up every night, the lavender shower gel he picked out himself, toothpaste from brushing his teeth after the breakfast they cooked together. 

And not least of all, Leo himself. Wrapped up in his arms and wearing his old jacket. 

Home. 

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.

[fansplaining]

Hello! I just read your article Endless Appetite for Fanfiction. It was very good, and touched on a lot of problems we are faced with in this era of media exploitation. And I agree! There are so many threats! But I do think the future is still in our hands. As the producers and curators of the fandom, we get to steer our audience and peers in the direction we want it to go. Mostly by sticking to our guns and continuing to function as normal, and to teach newcomers the way of the land! We can write PSA's, do disclaimers, continue writing fic the way we want to, comment on each other's work, maintain visible fandom friendships, etc. There are so many things we can do! As long as we want deep connections to the work and each other ( which is why we are doing this in the first place), they can't take anything from us. If anything, we are more established than ever. Anyway, there is hope. <3

Aw, thank you so much for the lovely message, anon! That's this article, if someone still hasn't managed to see it haha.

I definitely agree that we should keep doing all the stuff you've beautifully articulated. Sometimes I feel that as fans and fic writers, there's not much more we can do: so much of this is about external forces we can't control.

As a journalist, I do feel like I have a little more in my arsenal—like reporting on the for-profit fic binding in a mainstream publication, which definitely brought it to the attention of people outside fandom. With these recent AI grifters, they capitulated pretty quickly when fandom pushed back, but I worry the next guy will be a bit more pro, or a bit more uncaring about public outcry. Legally, we do have rights here, but we're decentralized, and unlike Disney etc, an individual fan doesn't have a team of lawyers that can sit on Etsy or wherever, constantly issuing DMCA claims—let alone bring a lawsuit.

Then I think, I'm a fan and a journalist, and so many fandom people have professional skills that can help here. The OTW exists because trained pros—librarians, developers, lawyers—have donated their skills over the years. But they can't be the single centralized group in transformative fandom, and I often worry that many people treat them that way. It's partly why I've been excited to work with the EFF recently, since they're interested in being another transformative fandom advocate. But I also think there's room for much, much more.

So I do have some hope on the external side—it's hard to see what shape our pushback will take, but I know there are tons of fans who will push back! Within fandom itself, it's just as you say: we can make our spaces vibrant and welcoming and meaningful, and we can keep creating and sharing with people in those spaces. I have zero plans to stop writing and publishing fic, no matter how many jackasses swoop in and try to profit off it. And I'm grateful that so many of my fellow fans feel the same way.

Thanks again for your message—I really appreciate it. <3

[tapwater118]

bfdia 17 and tpot 15 spoilers

bfdia 17

needle’s votes were counted separately, which means pencil is out, which is sad but also funny because now she gets to host with the rest of the wtfers. oh yeah they get to host now! i love that, also balloony just warpdriving out killed me. loved the mini freesmart reunion

fries actually taking the immunity was also a welcome surprise, we didnt really need pin to get tortured more this late in the season. i also guess at this point there isnt really gonna be a merge so much as a bunch of singleton teams, buts thats fine imo. coinpin :)

loved all the little cameos in the mall, very fun. also leafy! didnt really have too much screen time but oughhh they were teasing her for so long i almost lost hope. so very close to the first ever bookleaf interaction

the main event of course is tennis ball and nickel’s excellent adventure. if i had a nickel for every time a random donut line from bfb was justified by bfdia i would have two nickels: past nickel and future nickel. its nickel’s fault gaty got eliminated btw he lured that bug up there. he also caused all of tpot 15 by kicking the yoylite into the future so THANKS BUDDY

overall very funny episode! as much as i hate to say it i think needle is going to go here, she was very close to elimination last time and she also didn’t really have much to do this time. nickel is also a solid possibility due to him destabilizing the fabric of spacetime, which sources tell me is not a very “cash money” thing to do

anyway time for The Horrors

tpot 15

nickel i am going to throttle you

i predicted basketball was gonna be out but it doesnt mean im happy about it. also tree staying in over robot flower was a shock, i thought people really liked her?? poor thang her self esteem is in the toilet now. at least they got to fly away on a dragon to get lesbian married together

i love love love how theyre using the rejects more its wonderful (the pda short was definitely a test to see if people would like the rejects as characters im sure of it). itrd trying to replace firey to make himself relevant inadvertently made relevant from people editing him over firey i love it

ive seen people say they dont like the time travel but me? im eating this up its so good, wonderfully silly depiction of the butterfly effect, its perfect for bfdi. the host continuously being changed was a wonderful bit, and host with a screen! there were so many callbacks for the bfdi geeks in the crowd (me), i hope they do more with the tfi style it is so nice to watch

PENCIL CRASH OUT ARC TO RING IN THE NEW YEAR HALLELUJAH thank you one for getting her on the show. actually this crash out and the resulting timeline devastation is the exact reason one rigged pencil to get it. poor pencil man she needs friends

the finale of the episode with everyone huddling together as reality falls apart honestly got to me. icy running over to me with book is everything to me. her last moments and she chooses to spend them with book sndbejuxhsbansn

ok uh elimination predictions probably tree from dpya but maybe marker?? idk maybe his fans wont like him green. from team two i would like it to be grassy but i know hes gonna get the most votes again somehow. sorry taggy it might be your time to go

idk how to end this

[oldsoul007]

back to you

joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel lose each other 20 years ago until now

joel miller masterlist

It had been a time of desperate chaos—the world falling apart piece by piece as the Cordyceps fungus ravaged the human population, turning family, friends, neighbors, and strangers alike into mindless monsters. The infection had spread fast, too fast, and when the first signs of the outbreak hit, Joel and I had no idea how bad it would get. We had no way of knowing how quickly the world would change, how our lives would shatter.

We had been living in Austin, Texas, just before everything unraveled. Joel and I had found each other after both had weathered our own storms. Joel, already hardened by the loss of his daughter, had been reluctant to open up again, to let anyone in. But me, with my quiet strength and fierce protectiveness, had somehow wormed my way past his walls. We had been inseparable—cooking dinner together, taking long walks in the park when the world still felt like it could survive, making plans for a future that now felt like a dream.

We were out at a grocery store one night getting supplies, It was late, the store empty, when the panic started. At first, it had just been rumors, whispers about some kind of outbreak, about people getting sick, acting strangely. No one really knew what was happening. But the fear was palpable, and soon the streets were filled with people shouting, running, and driving in every direction.

Joel and I had been in the store, frozen, trying to piece together the chaos around us, when the first outbreak in the city was confirmed. Someone came running into the store, screaming. “They’re coming! They’re here! They’re killing people in the streets!” The words were barely out of the person’s mouth before the man was shot—killed by an officer who had clearly snapped under the pressure. The gunshot echoed through the aisles, and the reality of what was happening struck both of us like a blow.

Joel grabbing my hand, pulling me toward the exit. He was already thinking ahead—where to go, how to survive. His instincts had kicked in, and all that mattered was getting us both to safety.

But as we reached the parking lot, the world outside was nothing like we had ever seen before. People were running everywhere, cars were abandoned in the middle of the street, and screams filled the air. There was no order, no government, no protection anymore. The world had just… collapsed.

Joel and I jumped into the truck, making a run for it, weaving through traffic, heading toward what we hoped would be safety—toward the country roads, away from the violence, away from the chaos. The radio was filled with static and terrifying reports about people being “turned” into monsters, the cities being overrun, and the government preparing to implement martial law.

But the further we got, the more the roads became impassable. Traffic ground to a halt. People were panicking, leaving their cars behind to run on foot. The military had begun to set up barricades and block roads, trying to contain the spread of the infection, but it was clear they weren’t winning. In a matter of hours, it was every man for himself.

As we approached a bridge on the outskirts of town, the military set up a roadblock, and the situation escalated. The soldiers were desperate, their faces wild with fear. Joel could see them shouting at people to stop, to turn back, but chaos had already descended. Some people obeyed, others didn’t. The soldiers were growing more aggressive by the minute.

Then, the first gunshot rang out, echoing through the air, followed by the staccato of multiple shots. People screamed and scattered. It was a massacre. I clutched Joel’s arm, pulling him toward the back of the truck as we tried to take cover.

But in the madness, the truck was hit. A soldier fired at our vehicle—one shot, then another—and we were caught in the crossfire. Joel shoved me down into the truck bed as bullets ricocheted around them, his mind racing. He could hear me scream, but everything was a blur of motion and panic.

The next thing Joel knew, the truck was overturned. He was thrown to the ground, and the world spun in a dizzying whirl. His head slammed against the asphalt, and when he opened his eyes, everything had changed. The truck was in flames, the sound of gunfire was distant now, and the road was littered with bodies. But y/n was gone.

Panic flooded him as he tried to sit up, his body aching, his mind foggy from the blow. “Y/n!” he shouted, his voice raw, desperate. His hands were trembling as he pushed himself up, looking around. But the smoke from the truck and the blur of his vision made it hard to focus. “Y/n!” he called again, stumbling toward where he last saw her.

But there was no answer. No sign of her.

His heart hammered in his chest as he fought to stay calm, trying to think. She couldn’t be far. She couldn’t. But every direction he turned led to more chaos, more destruction. The world was coming down around him, and he couldn’t find her.

He ran, calling her name until his throat felt raw, but all he found were empty streets and the distant sounds of chaos. People running. Soldiers shouting. The infected tearing through the streets. And through it all, he couldn’t find y/n.

Eventually, he was forced to retreat. He couldn’t stay on the streets; it wasn’t safe. He had to keep moving, had to survive. But every time he looked over his shoulder, he expected to see her, standing there, coming toward him.

But she never did.

For weeks, Joel searched, desperately trying to find any trace of her. He moved from city to city, scavenging for supplies, trying to avoid the growing number of infected. He asked anyone he met, hoping against hope that someone had seen her, that someone knew where she was. But no one did.

As the months passed, and the world became a nightmare of survival and bloodshed, Joel’s hope began to wither. Y/b was gone. And the life he’d once known—those simple, precious days of being with her—had been buried by the weight of everything that had happened.

The days turned into weeks, then months, and the years stretched on. Joel tried to survive. He tried to forget. But he couldn’t.

Y/n was a ghost in his mind, a presence that never fully left him. He thought about her in the quiet moments, when the weight of the world wasn’t pressing on him, and he wondered if she was still out there—alive, surviving, thinking of him as he thought of her.

But every time he let himself think of her, the fear would grip him. What if she wasn’t alive? What if she hadn’t made it?

He never stopped looking. But after so much time, after so many broken pieces of the world, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been lost forever.

It was a wound that never fully healed.

Until now. Until Jackson. Until he saw her again.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the town square of Jackson, and everything felt… surreal. The world seemed quieter here—safer—but that didn’t change the gnawing ache in my chest. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything that had happened, despite all the time that had passed, something was about to happen. Something big.

It had been months since Tommy had returned. When he’d arrived back in Jackson, he’d been a man worn down by years of survival, much like the rest of us, but there was something different about him. Something in his eyes. Something in the way he carried himself, like there was a weight on his shoulders that wasn’t just about the chaos of the world. Something about the way people spoke when they saw him—the way they avoided certain questions, the way they looked at me with a mixture of pity and hope.

Then came the whispers. Joel was alive. Joel Miller, her Joel, was alive.

I didn’t believe it at first. I couldn’t. Not after all this time, after everything we’d been through, after the last time I’d seen him. It had been 20 years—twenty years since I last saw his face, since I last felt the warmth of his hands in mine, since the world had fallen apart.

I’d lost him then. Lost him in the chaos. In the violence. In the desperation of that world where nothing, not even love, could survive for long.

But now, standing in the square with Tommy in front of me, I felt the pull of that memory—of the person I had been before all of this. The woman who had loved Joel with everything she had. The woman who had believed they’d somehow be okay, despite everything. The woman who had lost him anyway.

Tommy’s face was tight, his jaw set in that way that always made me nervous. Something was off with him, something hidden. His eyes flicked nervously to the side, like he was trying to gauge something, or someone. I didn’t know if it was me he was avoiding or the truth that had yet to come out. But then I saw him.

Joel.

My stomach flipped in a way that was both familiar and completely foreign. He was standing there, just a few feet away, as though he’d been watching us the whole time. His face was gaunt, like he hadn’t eaten in days, but there was something unmistakable about the way he stood. The way he held himself. It was him. My Joel. After all this time. After all the years of wondering, of waiting, of fighting to stay alive in a world that felt like it had no room for love, it was him.

I froze. The air seemed to leave my lungs all at once. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, my feet, my thoughts. I could barely breathe, could barely move.

Then I did.

I started walking toward him—slowly at first, unsure if I was dreaming, unsure if I could trust what I was seeing. He didn’t move at first, just watched me with that same look I remembered—like he couldn’t quite believe it, either.

“Joel…” My voice was barely a whisper, like I wasn’t sure I even had the strength to speak his name after all this time.

And then, as if the world around us had ceased to exist, I was in his arms. His rough, calloused hands were on my back, pulling me in, holding me against him. I buried my face against his chest, inhaling the scent of him—the faint trace of earth and leather and everything I’d forgotten I needed.

He smelled like home.

His voice rumbled in my ear, hoarse with emotion. “You’re here. You’re really here.”

I nodded into his neck, unable to speak, not sure if I was even capable of forming words. I hadn’t let myself think about him for so long, hadn’t allowed myself to believe that I might see him again. That maybe, just maybe, I could find him.

But here he was. Alive. Real. And I couldn’t remember a time when I’d needed him more.

I felt his hands trembling as they ran over my back, as if he couldn’t believe I was real either. I stepped back just enough to look up at him. His face was rough, older, but still the man I’d known. The man I’d loved.

Tommy, watching from a distance, smiled softly to himself, his eyes flicking to Ellie, who had her arms crossed, watching with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. It was a strange thing, witnessing the reunion, but it was also a rare, beautiful thing. He could see the weight of the years lifting from Joel’s shoulders, even if only for a moment.

“Joel, I thought… I thought you were dead,” I whispered. The words sounded strange, as though I’d been carrying them around for too long.

His eyes closed briefly, and I saw the pain there. The same old pain that never really left him, no matter how many years had passed.

“I thought the same about you,” he muttered, brushing a hand through his hair as if trying to shake off the years. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you again.”

And for a moment, there was nothing else. No chaos. No world falling apart. Just us, standing there, lost in time.

Joel’s hands tightened around me, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. I wasn’t either. The air between us was heavy now, charged with all the things left unsaid.

Joel squeezed my hand, his thumb brushing over the back of it. “We’ve got time, y/n. Time to figure this out.”

I nodded, barely able to contain the wave of emotion that had built up in me. I wanted to say something—anything—but the words felt too small for what I was feeling.

Instead, I just held onto him. The man I had once thought I’d lost forever. And in that moment, I let myself believe that, maybe, we could find our way back. Together.

The sun had dipped low, casting a warm, golden hue over Jackson. The town, though small and humble, had become a symbol of stability in a world that had long been devoid of it. The smell of fresh bread from the local bakery drifted through the air, mixing with the earthy scent of pine and the faint hum of distant laughter. It was a peaceful night—one that Joel thought he’d never see again, especially after everything that had happened with Ellie, the Fireflies, and the things we’d both lost.

I stood just a few steps away from him in the courtyard, my hands folded tightly in front of me, my brow furrowed as I glanced down at the ground. The years had left our marks—on both of us—but there was something familiar in the way my eyes met his. He could see the same spark, the same strength. He felt a rush of relief in his chest, but also something else—something he hadn’t quite expected.

Fear.

Joel cleared his throat,

I sighed, my gaze drifting toward the horizon. There was a long pause. After a moment, I spoke again, voice steady, but my words were pointed. “I thought I’d lost you, Joel. I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

My eyes softened, and I stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm, but my gaze remained intense, searching his face for the truths he hadn’t shared in all the years they’d been apart. “I need you to understand something. I don’t just… need you here now. I want you here. With me. I’m not letting go of you again.”

The words cut deeper than he expected. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear that. But as she spoke, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming—a decision she was making, and he wasn’t going to like it.

He swallowed hard and met her gaze. “There’s something you need to know about what I’m doin’, y/n.” His voice softened, but the weight of it was unmistakable. “I’m takin’ Ellie to the Fireflies. She’s the key to everything. Maybe the cure.”

My face remained neutral, but my jaw tightened. “I know. I heard about it. You’re gonna try to save the world, right?”

Joel flinched at the way I said it—like I was trying to keep my emotions in check, but the words cut anyway. He hated that she had to be so strong, so distant, but he understood why. We had both lost too much in this world to trust anything easily.

“I have to do this,” Joel said, his voice thick with determination. “It’s for Ellie. It’s for everyone.”

My expression hardened. I took a step back, crossing my arms over my chest, as if weighing something. “And you think you’re just going to leave here alone? After all these years?” I asked, my tone cutting now, almost like a challenge. “You think I’m just going to sit here and let you go off on your own? No. I’m coming with you, Joel.”

Joel’s heart skipped a beat, his thoughts momentarily swirling. “Y/n, I just got you back. I—I can’t lose you again.” His voice faltered for a moment, the rawness of his emotions slipping through despite his best effort to stay composed. “You’ve already been through enough, seen enough. You don’t need to be part of this.”

My face was unyielding. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” I said, my voice steady but firm. “I’m not who I used to be, Joel. I know what it means to survive, to fight for what matters. And you—you are what matters. You think I’m going to sit back and let you walk into danger without me?”

Joel looked at her, his mind racing. His first instinct was to protect her, to keep her safe from the world and all its cruelty. It was why he’d shut her out for so long, why he’d tried to push her away before. But she was different now. Stronger. And she wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

“Don’t make me choose between you and her,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

My eyes softened, and I reached for his hand, my grip firm but gentle. “I’m not asking you to choose. I’m asking you to let me help.” My eyes locked onto his. “We’ve been through too much to turn back now. We’ve already lost so much. I’m not losing you again—not when we’re so damn close.”

Joel closed his eyes, his breath coming out in a rush. The pain of his past, the burden of Ellie’s safety, the fear of losing y/n all pressed in on him at once. But when he looked at her again, something in her expression—a quiet strength, an unshakeable resolve—made him realize that this was something he couldn’t keep from her. Not anymore.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Joel said, his voice low, filled with a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself to show in years.

“You won’t stop me,” I replied softly, but there was no hesitation in my voice. “And you don’t have to carry this alone anymore.”

For a moment, the world outside of Jackson felt like it didn’t exist. In that space, with my hand in his and the years between us seeming both too short and too long, Joel knew that I wasn’t just offering him my presence. I was offering him something he didn’t know he needed: a partnership—a choice to face whatever was coming, together.

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice steadying, his decision made. “We do this together. No turning back.”

My smile was small but fierce, the quiet promise of our unspoken bond lingering in the air between us.

And for the first time in a long time, Joel felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t going to lose everything he loved again.

[ruumiinlaulaja]

So I rewatched Mastermind, specifically the court scene. It's interesting to observe this near constant back and forth between Andrealphus and Vassago. It's quite obvious they know each other. But it's unclear how well they know each other. Just how deep is the connection between them, I wonder?

When we first see them, Andre hasn't even started talking yet, and Vassago is already glaring directly at him. Andre might be looking at Vassago too, it's hard to tell, but it feels significant that they’re directly opposite from one another, on the opposite ends of the room. At this point nobody knows Andre is going to be in the spotlight, but Vassago certainly seems to pay attention to him. Therefore, he absolutely knows this bitch and he knows he's up to something. There is history between the two of them.

The "okay, Vassago, shut the fuck up" line is the most obvious implication about their familiarity. I also find it interesting how Vassago is the only one standing up to Andre and has no problem challenging him or yelling at him. And yet, after Andre's emotional burst, Vassago pretty much dismisses him, apparently knowing there's no point arguing with him. This also implies there is deeper familiarity between them.

After Blitz blurts out ”if I wanted to kill Stolas I would have done it myself” and unintentionally incriminates himself, Andre is looking directly at Vassago to see his reaction. And he smirks. At Vassago. Nobody else. Why does he need to convince Vassago of all people? 🤔 Sus. Also, when Satan sentences Blitz, it’s interesting how they show Andre and Vassago and their reactions almost back to back like that.

Idk it all feels very intentional. It feels like there’s a small story being told through these small details. At least to me it feels significant, because these moments show how they notice each other and watch each other throughout the whole scene, even when neither of them are in the spotlight.

So, what's up? Are they frenemies? Enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies?? Lovers to enemies and back to lovers??? Ugh just fuck him and shut him up, Vassago.

Of course I might be reading too much into this (probably because I'm pretty desperate to see my silly ship together lmao), but I certainly hope the connection between them is more than ”they know each other from goetian social functions”.

Also, why confirm them as gay if this detail is not going to get explored in any way? Sure, the subject of their sexuality can be handled in many ways (and potentially never get "explored" in canon, as characters can just exist as gay without it being a big deal), and it certainly doesn't have to automatically lead to romantic storylines. I just find it interesting how out of all the goetias it's these two specifically that have been confirmed as gay (in addition to Stolas) - and Vassago's sexuality got confirmed before he even appeared in the show. Surely, that has to mean something?

....please?

tl;dr: I’m going to be really sad if there won’t be any sort of established (past or future) relationship between these two in canon. I really want to see more scenes between Andrealphus and Vassago.

tl;dr2: I really want them to fuck.

[itshonestlynotme]

✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”

“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.

Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”

“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”

“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”

“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”

Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”

Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”

“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”

She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.

“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”

Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”

“That’s why we’d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”

Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.

“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.

Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.

Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.

One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.

That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.

“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”

Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”

[lolitastories]

Ours

Rafe Cameron

Description: This will be a short story on how two people who love each other find their way back to one another. They have a child together and have to focus on giving her the best version of themselves but maybe their best version of themselves is when they are apart.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3 (Coming soon).

No matter the reason why Rafe and I weren’t officially together could ever make me deny him seeing his daughter. Rafe and I were two young to know what life would bring us after we met 4 years ago. At 19 I needed a change after graduating high school, so I moved to the outer banks. My friends came over to visit and when our pre campfire on the beach was rudely interrupted by a drunk girl, Rafe was there to watch as his friend Topper stopped the girl from starting a fight with one of my friends. My friend was more confident than me and invited them to stay and enjoy the sunset, since then Rafe and I spent most of our free days together. 3 years later I found out we were pregnant. Now I won’t admit I was scared because I wasn’t. Yet per my mother, my actions would tell you otherwise. When I found out I couldn’t block Rafe out of my life for even a day before he started sending constant messages and calling. I definitely couldn't ignore when he would personally go out of his way to come and find me. I was running out of places to hide so I had decided to move back home for a bit. I couldn’t stay too long because it would make my family suspicious, so thankfully being in my first trimester gave me the advantage to knock that reason out of the way. But soon I had to go back and face the decision I had made. The time back home had given me 3 weeks to think how and when I was going to tell Rafe about our future child. Since I was young, I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not this young but truthfully, I was jumping on clouds. The one thing I wanted to make sure before getting pregnant was choosing the right father for my children. He needed to be kind, loving, protective, but most of all understanding. Rafe was all of that and more. Not only did he have all those traits he also made me feel comfortable around him. He was the first man in my life that took care of the little girl who was scared to show herself. He brought out the pain and made it disappear. So, as I walked over to his property in Tanny hill I was determined to settle with whatever he chose to do with the information, that was until I saw him and another girl in his kitchen sharing a drink. I shouldn’t have gone into conclusion, but I was pregnant, and all my emotions were everywhere. I trusted him and when he found out I was back on the island he came to find me. He told me who she was and how he loved me. If it was me alone, I would jump on his arms and take him back, but it wasn’t. I needed to think of the little creature growing inside of me now, so after telling him I was pregnant I also told him I needed time to think about us. I wasn’t testing him, but this little person has become my world, and I needed to prepare to give them my all before welcoming it to the real world.

“We don’t like it here.” I hear the low and grumpy tone coming from behind me. As I turn, I let out a chuckle seeing Rafe and our daughter sharing the same expression. He had her hooked up to his chest as we were making our way to yet another antique store.

“I can understand it from her, but you need to stop acting like a baby.” I shut the tailgate of his trunk and started walking. I heard another groan but soon enough his heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer until he was walking alongside me.

“Promise me you won’t be like your mommy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I knew where this sentence was going. “Well,” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to walk towards the entrance of the store. “Maybe the good parts but when it comes to shopping, I hope you will drain my bank account at decent stores.” I grab the door hand and pull it open. Rafe walks in giving me a teasing look. I don’t respond knowing it would only lead to a longer conversation down a hole I don’t like. I walk over to grab a cart and walk over to where Rafe is waiting for me. “Every time you come into an antique store you buy nothing. Why do you always bring a cart?”

“Habit.” I shrug as I begin to look around. My mother, siblings and I would enjoy a Saturday in thrift stores and antique shops. We would later get food and rush home with a smile on our faces, it didn’t matter if we were carrying 12 bags or nothing, we were happy.

“Habits do die hard.” He says in a lower tone. I straightened up looking over to him as he played with our daughter's hands. I walk closer, placing my hands over his.

“And I am very proud of you Rafe,” As I looked into his eyes, I felt words choking to get out, but I held them down.

“What a beautiful baby.” Our heads turn looking over to a mid-thirties lady? as she smiled towards us. “Oh, look at her tiny shoes!” She squealed coming over to touch her small shoes. “I remembered my kid's feet being this small, almost making me want another little one.” We laugh alongside her. “Are you two planning to have more?” That question made my smile fade really quick. I looked over to Rafe who had a similar expression. “Either way you two are still young. Enjoy her this little and as much as possible because time goes by fast. You spend your time on things other than family and when you decide to give it priority it's too late.” Her words were like a knife stabbing me right in the heart.

“How many kids do you have?” I could hear their conversation faintly. My fingers began to tighten along the cart's handle. My body began to heat up while my head was spinning.

“Well, it was nice to talk to you two, but I have to find my two devils running around here somewhere.” I was functioning enough to give her a smile before she walked away.

“You, okay?” Rafe moves closer looking over my face. I nod slowly before shaking the uneasiness away and smiling up at him again.

“Yeah. We need to hurry if we want to catch the other stores before they close.” Rafe groans, throwing his head back.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I raised my hand to playfully shove him but then I remembered he was holding our daughter. “Did you see that?” he exaggerated as he turned to look down. “Mommy was trying to hurt daddy.” I roll my eyes and turn around to continue walking. My heart was melting when I heard our baby giggling at his fake studded words. “See, she agrees with me.”

“She does because she is such a daddy’s girl.” I turn my head to see Rafe smiling proudly as our baby looks up to him in admiration. “Just wait until she starts dating,” I bite my lips holding back a laugh to how fast his smile fell. “She will put you second,” I teasingly whispers.

“No, she would not! I will make sure of it because she won’t date until I am dead” I come to a halt and turn around to face him.

“I am %110 percent sure she would choose him and fight against you to keep the boy around.”

“Nothing backs up your statement.” He keeps his head high.

“She is a girl.” I simply state. “She will be smart but at the end of the day she is a girl. And as a girl myself I know it will happen because I happened to me,” He looks down with confusion on his face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I argued with my father because of a boy, till this day he still doesn’t like him. but I would do it again.” I don’t regret getting into an argument because of him. I choose the right choice to protect the boy's name, because he keeps on defying everything my father said he was going to do and be. “But don’t worry too much, you two will be okay.”

“Are you and your dad, okay?” I shake my head. I haven’t even told them I had a child. I know my father loved me but until I had Rafe, and I figured out, he would never accept it. I also am not in a hurry because it's my life and I am very happy.

“We will be.” I let out a sigh seeing how even our daughter was keeping quiet. “Let go because I am already hungry.” I smile, turning around to focus back on the shelves. I picked up a small book that read Collection Shakespeare: Hamlet. Before I opened it the book was taken from my hand. Rafe’s face comes to sit right beside my ear. His hot breath fanned down my neck and I could feel his smile radiate against my skin.

“Well until that happens, I can be your daddy,” He slowly whispers. His warm breath moves closer, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. It had been so long since I felt his lips on such a little intimate spot. When I regained my conscious back, he had already parted. I turned around to him, opening the small yellow book. “I will start by reading my two girls a book” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his fingers to shush me. I watch our daughter enticed by his voice as he reads Hamlet. His eyes following along the words and looking over to me, when he sees a smile placed on my lips he continues his interpretation of the book. I lean against the cart and watch as he continues to be and grow into the father I prayed for my children.

[greenplumbboblover]

Lyra's Yearly Recap - 2024/2025

I actually forgot I did this quite a few times the last few years, but this year I wanted to look back of what I accomplished from my resolution list.

And then see if In can make some of that true this year! (and what else to add!)

2023/2024 Resolutions:

(See: https://greenplumbboblover.tumblr.com/post/738067930777059328/accomplishments-of-2023)

I'm not answering all of them, but I do want to set some record straight!

Finishing LISISV

Haha... yeah I misjudged that completely lol. I got to a point where I lost complete motivation on... well, everything. I had no motivation for personal projects, CC making (one of the reasons why some of my mods in this year were so riddled with bugs), playing games... hell, even interacting with others. Now you could call that depression, but I wasn't showing those symptoms properly either. I found myself in a weird place where, on the one hand, I felt guilty of that I just couldn't do those stuff that I wanted to do, and that then causing me to feel super overwhelmed... yet telling myself constantly that "adults don't feel overwhelmed on those tiny silly things!". I was pretty mean to myself this year, honestly... But all that sad stuff aside! I have made some personal changes in December that are helping me a lot already, before getting also some mental help for other things. But I'll save you from those details. 😉 --------------- The second thing that didn't help was that I would at some point feel a HUGE disconnect with the characters I had in my head and my actual writing. I would make impulsive thoughts, without realistically navigating how it would work out in the future. I would introduce characters, without really giving it a thought on how I wanted them to come across... how to fully tackle certain cases. So! I spent a majority of that time researching a lot of the ways writers actually attempt those issues and solving those. I was hoping to make a post to help others with that soon, since It's really awesome insight at times! And... then there was the whole posing. But I resolved that with the Pose Add-on IMO already! Chapter 10 however, is actually taking a long time because I do struggle a lot with the fact that I consider it my "old" way of writing, and I REALLY want to move on to my 'new' ideas and style. So the willpower is simply not always there.

LISIV PLANS:

Alright, now that we have all that out of the way, here are some of my plans for this year and the story: Splitting certain stories into sub-stories: My current personal problem I have with the story, is that there are some really cool characters, but with the current format, I can't explore their characters as intensely as I'd like to. I also know that I love to jump back and forth from one story to another.

How that would look like is:

Morgana will have her own "Sub-story"

I am pondering of doing the same for Dustin and Zelda.

We travel 5 years into the future, where I want to do more with Mortimer and Bella. But also the Landgraabs and the Alto's.

I am also thinking of making a separate (short) storyline for Gunther and Lolita. The moment I was making the flashbacks, I really have been wanting to write more about it.

Same as 4, but maybe for some other townies! They will be short, but I think it can be fun! :)

Figuring out what to do with Interests & Hobbies

The infamous mod of being delayed... again :p.

I guess you all are probably exhausted of me hearing "no wait! I will finish it!", and then another mod gets released, and another year passes... and personally I have that same thought.

So I am putting the mod entirely on ice. There might not be a chance that I even finish it ever.

However I do want to add something here:

I will be working much more with Stories be told

I am going to be making more hobby items in return! I have been craving that "small but cool" modding projects a lot the past few years. I just like to be ambitious and unrealistic I guess, lol

However, I will be modding WAY less this year due to other factors.

My 2024/2025 Resolutions:

I think I've mentioned this now a lot of times, but never properly done it...

Wanting to write more. Whether it's for the sims, or even personal!

Wanting to get more into 3D modeling. Mostly for myself, but here and there I could probably release some CC pieces! :)

Keep up with Simblr.cc of course!

Post more of my thoughts on LISISV and Character stuff (@nocturnalazure suggested this a while back, but the more I thought of it, the more fun it sounds!)

Doing more Sims photoshoots!

Either way! May this year be your year! Where issues get resolutions and love is all around you.💖

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

May I ask sincerely what are your thoughts about the fact the that most adaptations of the Mayerling incident chose to romanticize the murder -suicide and the relationship between prince rudolf and baroness Mary vetsera

I am going to start this by saying that I don't know as much about Rudolph specifically as I would like to. My dissertation is about the 1850s and 1860s, so he wasn't yet significant. Much of what I know about him is from discussions of liberalism in the late 19th century, where he shows up as a critic of his father and, for liberals, the hope for reform when Franz Joseph passed the throne to him.

So, I will say that this is a part of two larger conversations in my head: the fixation on famous violent deaths of historical figures and the a general romanticization of depression and suicide.

I'll start with the latter. While I don't think that fiction is obliged to eschew dark themes or only portray suicidal ideation in the scolding tone of a PSA, it strikes me as uncomfortable how often it is portrayed as something as beautiful and tragic. And I mean that broadly, whether it be Empress Elisabeth, Rudolph, Princess Diana, or Marilyn Monroe. There is a real tendency I see to color their entire lives with tragic and always beautiful depression. The facets of them as a person are reduced down to this one thing--with Rudolph this turns into foreshadowing his death in Sisi media even when he's a young child.

It's the "Van Gogh made his most beautiful art when he was depressed" misconception broadly applied. The depression is the tragedy, and the suicide or accidental suicide (thinking here of Marilyn Monroe's death by overdose) is the romantic and tragic end. It's not exclusive to Rudolph, though certainly there is something particularly puzzling about it with him since his suicide was violent and took a young woman with him.

And before I sound too much like the artistic expression police, I do get it. Sometimes creatives want to explore how it feels to be at war with yourself. I have depressive episodes; I understand that feeling all too well. But, does it always have to be graceful and beautiful?

On the second point: There's a real issue with fixating on the violent deaths of historical figures.

If you asked someone who doesn't know much about Austria to name two Habsburgs, you would almost certainly get: Marie Antoinette and Franz Ferdinand.

What do those two have in common? Violent famous deaths.

I would challenge most people who make jokes and references to Franz Ferdinand to actually say something about his politics or his life before his death.

My point here is that the death itself becomes famous and the person's whole life shrinks down to that. That's how we get Rudolph's suicide being portrayed as the product of just having a bad relationship with his emotionally unavailable father or (worse) as a cudgel to punish his mother for not being involved enough.

Rudolph as a person doesn't appear as much. His liberalism? His engagement with the arts and sciences? His travels? His attempts to publish criticism of the empire? It all gets subsumed into the violent end of his life. And even then, his frustrations as a liberal who was seeing both staunch conservatism and rising right wing populism and losing hope in the future hardly takes center stage in portraying his reasons for his suicide.

That's my general take on it, but anyone who knows more about Rudolph specifically is encouraged to chime in with their thoughts.

[plethomacademia]

I spent most of yesterday logged off and that took a lot of the energy out of my veilguard critical sails. It's fine. You can see all the places where they had to cut content. There are lots of ideas with little cohesion.

It reminds me of da2 in that way a lot, but I didn't care about it with that game. Sure people just appear out of crates to hit you and there's exactly one cave. There's something to be said for smaller scopes. I loved Kirkwall and I loved the people I got to know over years there.

Sure, this game cannot be a single city and the stakes are too high to take years, you're fighting at least one god no matter what due to the set up in inquisition. (Which ugh don't get me started on that after credits stinger and how they might have set themselves up for failure again.) But did we need six factions, especially when three of them feel half finished at best? Did there need to be a version of galactic readiness which forces you to engage with each faction to the point that you can see the gaps? Did there need to be so many boss fights that they didn't have time to design so they just threw in another dragon?

I like the characters but I feel the gaps there too. There's enough here for me to play with, but this need for everyone to be nice ... Ugh I really hope this isn't the future of this company. Remember when characters could disagree? Remember when you could literally hate fuck? Remember when Ashley shot Wrex in the head?

I guess since this is a whole thing, I'll get out the last part: the romances are really disappointing. I don't mean this in a where are the boobies way, who truly cares. Bioware was really onto something with their last two games and romances. Veilguard suffers from everyone having basically the same progression: empty flirts that feel weird -> a lock in that feels very late and gets you a kiss -> good job gamer here's the sex. This is the me1 and me2 model!

Their last two games had really started to play with allowing different characters to have different ways to engage in a relationship. Some people will never consummate, some want to fuck on the first date. The thing I remember the most from Andromeda is that it let me play my Ryder like the absolute messy nepo baby that I wanted, which included fucking her friend on the couch after playing scifi FIFA and then calling it what it was: blowing off steam, having fun. After that, she was able to have a long, slow build up romance with a pink alien who helped her stop and think for three seconds and become a better person.

This is good! To use phrases that I think Bioware might care about, this is representation! I have always been a fuck on the first date, catch feelings later person, so the whole building to sex always felt off to me. Let some people lead with their bodies. Let some people lead with the feelings. Let people be people! If nothing, it felt even more video gamey and empty changing it back to this and I have a feeling this is once again a victim of cuts in development.

Apparently my sails were still full. I do plan to play this game again, but with the difficulty turned down, enemy hp set to lowest, and free rein to skip cutscenes that made me roll my eyes the first time. I really hope this did well enough that they get to have another shot at mass effect, but I am also worried that this is their new standard and I am going to have found family everyone is nice in space whether I want it or not.

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

Hello and welcome back to the story dear readers. A new year is upon us, and I’m hoping that we will all continue to enjoy this story. I apologize again for the delay on the previous chapter, and will work to keep from having a repeat in the future.

Last time, in true college student fashion, Star imbibed some questionable liquids, and started hearing voices. What do you mean that’s not a universal college experience?

Anyways, the votes came back, and the voice said:

“Welcome my child, it’s good to see you again,” a deep, kindly voice spoke, causing her to turn around and come face to face with a man she hadn’t thought she’d ever see smiling at her again. “Though, I suppose this is not what either of us had in mind.”

“No, it’s not,” Luna answered backing away from him slightly. “Where are we father?”

The man let out a dry chuckle as he walked around her, shaking his head. “Ever the practical one, you get that from your mother… as well as your brilliant mind. We are in a place where magic comes from, the void of creation, destruction, healing, harm, life, and death… we are a part of the ley lines, and they are a part of us,” he explained spreading his arms out wide as the endless white expanse tremored and echoed with his voice. “I only hope you are stronger than I was.”

“What… What do you mean?” Star asked, as her eyes scanned the expanse, watching as her father began walking up an invisible wall.

The slightly unhinged laugh he gave a reply was not comforting, as he leaned against a ledge that was not there. “We are one with magic. I, in my hubris, craved to control and have all the magic. You, I believe may not be corrupted by your intentions.”

“You’re the creature in the water,” she stated, putting the pieces together, as she watch the man stand and bow before her.

“I knew you were your mother’s brilliant daughter. I was twisted and corrupted by my desire for more power, never being satisfied. But I have a feeling that you are not the same as I am, I feel that you are better than I could dream of being.”

She turned away from him, walking towards the distance. “Magic is not just for one person, it’s meant to be spread across this world, to help everyone.”

“I never thought that, and I believe that is what will keep you from becoming like I am.”

She paused, looking back at the man that she still saw holding her up to the sky, and teaching her about the night’s constellations during the summer. “There is hope for you father, I can feel it.”

He seemed to pause at that, giving her a cheeky smile, as a faintly familiar voice tickled at the edges of their hearing, calling her name. Leaning against the invisible wall with his arms folded over his chest, he jerked his chin towards the direction she’d been heading. “Don’t worry about me kiddo, you have something much larger to worry about.”

“But I can’t ju-”

“You can, and you will. The star does not care, the power does not choose its master. You must, because if you do not, magic will die,” he stated with a grim seriousness as the white void trembled around them again. “You will, because you are so much better than I ever was.”

She looked at the man once again, seeing the sternness to his countenance, before taking a deep breath, and turning away. “Magic do as you will,” she stated coldly before the void shattered around them and she was flung into blackness, a warm enveloping blackness that drew her deeper, and deeper. She could feel hands in hers, being pulled along to this final confrontation, and knew without looking that her companions were along for the ride.

Deep in her heart, she knew that she was going to have to push herself far beyond anything that she had ever done before, and the magic coursing through her body sang out begging to be used, to be free, and to be unleashed.

The blackness broke apart, revealing thousands upon millions of eyes around them, staring, watching, and waiting. The discordant swirl of colors were focused and hungry for the battle for magic to commence.

Feeling a weight on her shoulder, she found Balgarath Jr. seated there, like he owned it, and there was her friends as well, ready to face the challenges before them. Turning back to the creature that loomed over them, she could see a core of light deep in its chest, drawing in all the light around it, and sealing it within, and beyond it, a star that gave the majority of the light, and was slowly fading before her eyes.

This was it, the end of her journey for good or ill, and she had to make a choice.