#I thought things were supposed to change for the better

[kenwio]

Joker's kid reader: Joker's kid first friend

Route: recovered dove

Author's note: Connected to this ask (finally did it ^-^). Another author's note will be in the end.

Warnings : Grammar, fluff with hints of hurt/comfort.

Your day began pretty normally: Alfred woke you up, saying that breakfast is ready. After you managed to wash your face and brush your teeth, you walked in the kitchen, only to witness your family being tired and for lack of a better word, restless. They all seemed bothered by something, and you couldn't really understand what. Tim and Bruce were looking at the screen of bat-tablet (yeah, they totally have bat-tablet), Dick was thoughtfully chewing on food, stopping occasionally so that he could tell Damian to stop death staring Jason, who looked pissed. When Alfred walked in again, you noticed little leaf stuck to his usual attire.

- Master Bruce, our little guest is still acting aggressive, even after watering.

Now you looked confused. Guest? Being watered?

- It's all your fault, Todd - Damian said harshly

- Oh, for the love of God! - Jason snapped - you were there when that thing fell on me! How in hell were I supposed to know it would take my helmet!

- Still - Damian started, but he was quickly interrupted by Dick

- B, Timmy, any luck finding out what is.... that thing?

- No - answered Bruce, not looking up, while Tim only shook his head

- What thing? - you inquired quietly. On your question, Jason and Damian answered at the same time.

- The thing that stole my helmet!

- The thing that Todd trapped and can't get out.

- well, uh alien-plant? - Dick chimed in

- All of above - Tim added - we can't find out what is until we get it out of Jay's helmet

- Can't we just slash helmet? - Damian asked

- Hey, it's can hurt it! - Dick defended

- it will hurt my helmet!

As they continued bickering, you chewed your food, and after some thoughts, you asked

- Can I see it?

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So there you were, in the batcave with your brothers (Bruce wanted to join in, but he had a meeting in Wayne Enterprise). You were looking at the little creature that was in the helmet of Red Hood. You couldn't really see it, but you didn't want to blind it by lightning it with a flashlight. You were looking at it, until you saw that shiny dark eyes of the creature looked at you back, you felt like it's eyes touched your soul, as if you and this little one had a connection

- Oh, they are hiding - you noted quietly

- well, duh, Sherlock, we can see it - Jason answered

- and they are scared of you

- They? - Dick asked, and you just nodded in response.

As you looked at little plant creature, you couldn't help but feel like you understood the creature. It was afraid, just like you, when you were first taken in. You gently reached out your hand, showing that you wanted to, he don't have to be afraid of you. It let out a strange noise, after which he touched you. It moved a bit, and you saw a little wooden humanoid creature with emerald colored leafs poking out of his different parts, which was looking at you curiously. Seeing that you didn't move and was looking at him kindly, he climbed in your hands, making little creaking sound, and you understood what he was saying.

- they like hats - you translated for your brothers.

Your brothers looked eyes widened, and all of them looked at you as if you had just changed some basics of the world like it was nothing. They did not understand how you understood this creature.

- You can understand this thing - Jason voiced first, sounding shocked

- Yep. And they liked your helmet. He likes hats. - you stated, taking little creature closer to you

- So, can he tell you what they are? - Tim questioned, his curiosity returned quickly. You looked at little creature, who answered to you with his little creeking

- They don't really know. They are too little, they don't even have a name - you answered, looking at creature sadly. You remember times when you didn't have a name, too.

- You know, since they like you, maybe you could help him choose name - Dick walked up to you putting his hand on your shoulder, smiling at you and at creature. You nodded.

- Chlory? - you said quietly, quickly adding - short for Chlorophyll - on your words creature creaked happily

- Tt, how original - Damian said, he was faced away, his arms crossed, his face tinged with forced indifference

- I am Chlory! - creature creaked happily, trying to mimic your speech, making all of you surprised.

- Seems he likes the name, good job (your name)! - Dick cheered you up, patting your head, and chuckled, looking at Damian - Don't sulk, Dami

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From the moment Chlory climbed in your hands, he was glued to you, refusing to climb down from you. Since you were the only one who understood that little creature, you were the one who was taking care of the little plant alien since you were the only one who could understand it. And since Chlory didn't want to get down for you, you were the one who was taking care of it, but soon, your family noticed that the way your routine changed for them was healthy.

Yes, in the beginning, Alfred and Bruce were suspicious. Bruce knew his children had a knack for befriending aliens (and you befriending this little one just proved that tendency), but it still made him worry. What if this little one will hurt you? But you yourself asked Bruce to keep them, and it surprised him, since you almost never asked for anything, so he couldn't deny this one request (you were too cute). So he had to keep his eye on you and Chlory, making sure your little duo would be just fine. As for Alfred, he was utterly surprised with decision to keep this alien, but seeing that Chlory could help him with garden, he made his peace with it, and started helping you to take care of Chlory. But as long as you seem happy, Alfred wouldn't mind.

Since Chlory needed being watered, while consuming it, they made you drink water with them. Sine Chlory needed sun, you had to take walks with them. But other then that, when Chlory noticed that you need to eat, Chlory made sure that you ate, by constantly creaking "I am Chlory" that translated in "you are hungry", and you weren't sure if Chlory made you believe that you are hungry or stated the fact. Chlory even tried to eat your food, and drink your drinks on several occasions, though Chlory just chewed your food and they also didn't enjoy hot tea you usually drink with Alfred, and never touch your steaming hot cup if tea after one bad experience. Sometimes, when you were washing your face, Chlory would jump in open water, so you had to drag them out of it, and drying him up with towel from time to time, yet it was fun and cute, they reminded you cat that tried to play with water tap in videos Tim and Damian showed you.

Thouse little experiences with Chlory became part of your daily life, and one that was quite comforting, one that reminded you you weren't alone anymore. Oftentimes, you could hear Chlory creeking happily, and this sound helped you not to zone out. I'm dark corners of your memory, reminding you yet again that nightmare of your previous life was over.

Surprisingly, Chlory helped you to learn how to speak up. For example, one time you were reading a book Jason told you about, you felt how Chlory were tugging onto your sleeve repeating "I am Chlory" that translated in "Read to me" over and over. You weren't sure you could do it right, but you tried, mentally recalling all the times Jason read to you. Chlory were happy to hear you, and those sessions of reading outloud to them lead you to being complimented by Jason on how good you read and pronounce things now.

Also Chlory forced you to tell you what you were doing and what you were doing. Chlory liked when you talked, and you had to talk more, and one time you were commenting how you were trying to put together puzzle, Dick was a quiet witness of your interaction. He couldn't help but smile at the scene and be proud that you were actually talking. And of course he joined in just a bit later, having cute conversations with both of you.

While Chlory was too attached to you, Tim knew that sometimes you just needed your space. He remembers that you told that Chlory like hats, and since he couldn't really sneak vigilante gear in your room (he tried, yet Alfred advised against it) he began quest of finding best hat for Chlory that also can be just a little bed or shelter for them. So Tim, you and Chlory (more Tim and you, who were searching for approval of Chlory) began researching into hats, trying to find a perfect model of it. Chlory seemed interested in berets, and now you three bought a few (just in case Chlory wanted to change them).

Watching your interactions, Damian can't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy, but he would never admit it. It was good enough that many of the animals he took care of sometimes liked Drake and Grayson more, but now you were the only one who could get along with that's creature and not him?! How come! He didn't voice it, of course, but it seems like you got the idea yourself. So when you were holding Chlory while explaining to Damian how he needed to act. He needed to be even more calm and more gentle than he is when he was with Titus when he was a puppy. You didn't expect it, but you and Damian would bound about taking care of little friends. Yeah, friends, because outside of the family, Chlory is your first friend.

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your opinion and have a good day 💖

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Tag list :

@socially-embarrassing , @leovergurl , @deathbynarcisstick , @cryptic-arr0w , @lynns-cornerr , @cxcilla ,  @charlotteking23 , @ninihrtss , @lillycore , @pix-stuff , @tfamidoingwithmylife , @linoalwaysknows , @00hellohello00 , @lilithskywalker , @bagofrice , @lenaisaloser , @devilslittlehelper , @camilo-uwu , @l3v1us , @eyeless-kun , @stargazingbutgayer, @wpdarlingpan , @weirdothatreads , @maybea1 @mel-viper-wayne @amber-content @lizzyzzn

@dearlawdimasimp  (My appologies for not adding you sooner)

if i forgot to add someone to the tag list, please let me know, and i will add you to the next part

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Author's note : My break is over (unfortunately Т^Т), so I would have a little to no time, BUT! I will try to post at least once a week!!!

[f1girliefics]

From Monaco, With Love

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: A solo vacation to Monaco turns into something unexpected when you meet Lando Norris at a bar.

The bar in Monaco was exactly what you needed, dimly lit, atmospheric, the kind of place where you could sit back with a drink and simply exist. 

A vacation for yourself, a way to celebrate how far you’ve come. 

No obligations, no expectations. Just you, the warm Mediterranean air, and the luxury surrounding you.

But then you saw him.

Lando Norris sat across the bar, effortlessly confident, dressed in a way that told you he knew exactly how good he looked. 

Sharp suit, slightly loosened tie, hair styled with just the right amount of carelessness. 

It was impossible not to notice him.

You weren’t here for this. 

You weren’t supposed to entertain any romantic ideas, but as he caught your gaze and started approaching you, you thought, why not? 

A little fun wouldn’t hurt.

“Drinking alone?” His voice was smooth, carrying something playful as he settled into the seat beside you.

“For now,” you replied, sipping your cocktail. “But something tells me that’s about to change.”

Lando grinned, a boyish charm to his smirk. “Smart and beautiful. I like that.”

That was the beginning of something you never expected.

---

The next few days felt like a dream.

Lando took you on long drives through winding roads overlooking the ocean, you felt the way he’d glance at you when he thought you weren’t looking. 

He showed you his yacht, laughing as you teased him about the sheer extravagance of it all, only to pull you onto the deck and wrap an arm around your waist as if you belonged there.

“You live like this all the time?” you asked, watching the sunset.

He shrugged. “It’s better with company.”

Shopping in Monaco was another adventure, Lando insisted on picking out things for you, draping luxurious fabrics over your shoulders, and holding up pairs of sunglasses to your face with a critical expression.

“You’re going to have to carry all of this,” you warned, laughing as he handed another bag to an already overwhelmed store assistant.

“I don’t mind,” he said, with a casual shrug. “If it means I get to see you wear all of it. And take it off of you later.”

Each moment with him was effortless, a beautiful distraction from the reality waiting for you back home. 

But reality couldn’t be ignored forever.

---

“It was fun,” you admitted as you stood by the docks on your final evening, the night breeze warm against your skin. “Spending the last few days with you.”

Lando’s brow furrowed slightly. “Last few days?”

You gave him a small smile, trying not to let your own emotions get the best of you. “I don’t live here, Lando. I was just… visiting.”

“You’re leaving?” his tone was a bit panicked. 

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

He was quiet for a moment, jaw tightening slightly. “Where’s home?”

You hesitated, but eventually gave him the name of your city. 

He didn’t say anything else. He just nodded, giving you one last long look before pulling you into a kiss that felt like goodbye.

---

You didn’t expect to see him again.

You certainly didn’t expect him to show up at your doorstep days later, standing there with an enormous bouquet of flowers and that same determined look on his face.

“You can’t just show up here,” you breathed, completely taken aback. "How did you even find where I live?!"

“I can show up,” he countered. “And I found you my own way.”

“Lando-”

“I don’t care if we come from different worlds,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I don’t care about any of that. I just know that I don’t want what we had in Monaco to be the end of us.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest. “You’re really here.”

He smirked. “Took a flight and everything.”

You shook your head, letting out a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I know what I want. And I want you.”

You allowed him into your home, as he kissed you. 

There were still doubts, still questions, but in that moment, as you looked into his eyes, you realised none of them mattered.

Because he was here. And so were you.

And that was enough.

[villainousauthor]

"This might be a new low for you." Hero's voice is firm, unwavering. Villain looks up from their delicate work, crossing of wires and fuses. They were hoping to get this explosive planted quickly and efficiently, though Hero's presence may delay their goal.

"I didn't know you previously held such a high opinion of me. I'm flattered." Villain's speaks in a deadpan tone.

Hero crosses the room, standing before Villain, arms folded in irritation. "A government building? Really? I thought my opinion of you couldn't get lower, but you dropped the bar into hell." Villain looks up, meeting their stern glower. Their fingers drum across the wooden desk the explosives sit on, holding Hero's gaze.

"Is this supposed to have any effect on me? I'm used to your scorn." They stand up, rising to Hero's height. "Either try to stop me or get lost. If you try to fight me, though, know I won't go easy on you this time."

This was too important. They didn't have time to play their usual games with Hero, or worry about their disappointment.

"I can tell." Hero speaks, sitting down on the desk, as if uncaring about the literal ticking bomb inches away. "You have that look on your face. Like you're thinking hard about something." They sigh as if exhausted. "Trying to fight you when you get like this never goes well."

"So leave-"

"Nope." Hero crosses their legs, uncrosses them, and leans back, meeting Villain's stare again. They're forcing a show of relaxation, but Villain doesn’t miss the way their limbs shake, or the way fingers won't stay still. "I have a better idea." They continue.

"Do go on."

"You go ahead and finished setting up these explosives and high tail it out of here like a coward, and I'll stay here." Hero's tone is like that of someone discussing the weather, or the latest sports game.

Villain blinks, opens their mouth, and closes their mouth before finally finding their words.

"What? You do know what a bomb is, right? I know your skull is a bit thick, but you do realize what would happen in that case?"

Hero makes a show of a fake explosion with their hand, complete with an auditory Woosh.

"I'd be turned into paste. Probably. If your weapons skills are even that good." They try to keep their voice in that same casual tone, but yet again, Villain doesn't miss the slight tremble. They're frightened. None of this makes sense.

Villain pauses for a moment. "Are you suicidal? Is this a cry for help because I'm sure this Hero gig of yours pays well enough for some therapy-"

"Nothing like that." Hero interrupts with a shake of their head and a laugh devoid of humor. "I appreciate the concern, but no, that's not what's going on here."

Staying quiet for a moment, Villain waits for them to elaborate.

"I'm calling your bluff." They say simply. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's easier than trying to fight you and getting my ass kicked."

Frowning, Villain speaks a bit firmer, still confused though. "You're what?"

"I am calling your bluff. You can go ahead and blow up this building, but I'll be right here when it detonates." Hero smirks, like they've figured villain out.

Standing up taller, they lean over the wooden table and grab one of Hero's shoulders harshly. Their face becomes something wild.

"Are you really so self-centered, so arrogant, that you somehow- somehow in that stupid mind of yours think-" They exhale harshly through their nose and let go. "You think that your stupid threat of self destruction is enough to make me change my mind? You think your life matters to me, at all?" Their voice gets harsher as they speak, volume raising slightly. Why would Hero even try this?

"Okay then. So prove how worthless my life is to you." Hero shrugs. "You go ahead and set the bomb off, and I'll stay here." Hero tries to hide their smug smile. Despite their fear, they know they've caught Villain off guard.

Pinching their own face so hard they worry their nails may cut skin, Villain breathes loudly.

"You realize I could turn this back around on you, right? I could call your bluff. You wish to risk your life like this?"

"Call my bluff then." They challenge. "Unless you defuse this bomb, I'm not leaving." Hero raises their chin defiantly, eyes dagger sharp.

Villain rounds the table, grabbing Hero roughly, jostling them with a grip hard enough to ache. Hero's face doesn't change. "You think I can't drag you out of here? That I couldn't possibly knock you out and take you with me?" And then give them lecture filled with ire boarding on something violent later.

"You can certainly try," They keep that rebellious smile on their face, "but I'd fight you tooth and nail the whole way, and is that how you want to spend your precious escape time?"

Sneering, Villain can't decide if they want to shove them away or grip them tighter. "I hate you. I hate you so much." They all but snarl at them. If the imminent threat of explosion didn't kill Hero, they're sure the look on their enemy's face would.

Still, Hero pushes. "No, you don't. If you did, you'd already be out the door. You'd be killing two birds with one stone." Hero's hand reaches for the beeping package of wires, hand trembling, but they grab it nonetheless. They shove it to Villain roughly.

"Prove you hate me. Or defuse the bomb." They keep on the act of confidence, but that underlying dread is still in their eyes, the deep seated fear of what will happen.

Idiotic as always, Villain decides. Like there was any chance Villain would do anything else but spare them. Their stupid, infuriating Hero.

"I can't stand you." They growl, ripping one wire from the fuse.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 8: Surprise

Another of my prompts from last year that fit.

*****

Rated T | 2,430 | tw: homophobic slur

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige—he always was—but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

****

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay insisted that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so incredibly perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before he kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy I am that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s- we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until, like, 10 minutes ago, so I don’t even have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought, though he kept that to himself.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you. You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned—minus is own spontaneous proposal—and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part— Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so- it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring.”

“Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting yours on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently fixed a curlon Bucks head and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took his ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[love-byers]

(same anon that previously sent an ask about the monologue, because writing all this just got me thinking)

Another thing to take note of is that Mike only talks in the past/present tense, but never in the future tense. He says "I've loved you every day since" but never "and I'm going to love you every day for the rest of my life". He's clinging to the past, he's refusing change. There's a line after where he says "And I’m not ready to lose you -- you hear me??". It's just so clear to me. Once he's ready, he can finally grow and allow new and better things to come into his life, and truly come of age. That's the kind of ending I believe is right for the show and those characters in a more general sense anyway.

OMG IVE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE PAST/PRESENT TENSE STUFF THATS SO TRUE

i've always thought that it seemed like both mike and el were clinging to the past. it starts in the s3 epilogue when el says i love you too. its supposed to be taking the next big step in their relationship, maturing and changing. but mike realizes he doesn't want that, he doesn't want things to change. he doesn't want to get more serious with el. he yearns for the past when he was closer with will and didn't have the pressure of growing up and committing to el. and of course the idea of that scares him bc it makes him question the nature of he and will's relationship.

"And I guess...if I'm being really honest...I don't want things to change. So I think maybe that's why I came in here. To try to maybe...stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were."

i've analyzed the living hell out of this in a byler way, because it is undoubtedly coded towards byler, but i think there is a bit of mileven here too based on what happens in s4. here's some quotes/moments that made me think mike and el were clinging to the past because they know they have no foundation of a future.

"Bitchin' right?" "Yeah, yeah, bitchin'. Do you come here a lot?" mike is so dismissive of her here it's kind of funny

then there's mike bringing her eggos before their fight. he's trying to make peace with a staple from their past, but it doesn't work, because that's not what makes a relationship strong.

"You can't let those mouth breathers ruin you, ruin us." again a reference to a joke/phrase from their past. something they share, or should share. mike feels like saying that will draw them back together. but it fails

"They're nobodies. And you're a superhero." "Not anymore." i feel like this one speaks for itself lol

and the fact that the song playing over their fight is called "Eulogy", a track that plays during scenes referencing dead characters (barb, bob, el (before mike knew she was alive), billy) and metaphorical deaths, like el moving into the cabin with hopper. "This is your new home." it's representing the death of el's old life in the lab, and finding new beginnings. their fight was the death of their relationship, and even mike knows it. a fight you can't come back from.

[pollsnatural]

1) Jack was introduced as an important plot point in Cas' storyline, from the very beginning his story was supposed to be tightly connected to Cas'. But I suppose execs thought that having Misha and Alex in the episodes together was luxury (and we can't even think about making an episode where Jensen and Jared aren't involved) which led to rare interactions between Cas and Jack which is deeply disappointing.

2) The same as 1.

3) They tried to do that in season 5 while making him a parallel to Bobby's disability, but in the end both of them just got better lmao. After that Cas losing his powers and gaining them was used mainly as a crutch to the main storylines.

4) Self-explanatory, I think

5) This is going to be complicated. Most likely it's just a me problem. Yes, there's charm to Cas being a total loser. Yes, trying to accept yourself beyond your usefullness is a theme. Yes, I get it. But. It feels bad. He's an autistic-coded character to whom I relate a lot. Because of my autism many people think that I'm incompetent, that I'm unable to do any job, that I'm too uhh child-like for it. And through Cas it seems to me that show says "yeah, lol, you're a loser, you can't do anything yourself, you should just give up and let others do your job". Like it's totally connected to my personal problems and to how I interpret the character, but if we're talking about lore of the show, shouldn't he be one of the most effective soldiers of Heaven? Why does he lose all his skills? I'm sure not all of them were connected to his angelic powers. And if they were, couldn't writers let him learn new skills? I just want the show to give him a little more dignity.

6) I just want what Dean fans have - lots of boyfriends/girlfriends for Cas.

7) If you're burying gays, don't be pussies about it. The "yeah, he's here in the Heaven" undermined Cas' sacrifice for no good reason.

8) If you can't have Misha in the episode, at least think of the fun explanation for Cas' absence. Like "Yeah, sorry, I wasn't in the last episode because had to fight aliens", idk.

9) I just want more drama. Moriah was good, but I want more.

10) The idea of Godstiel cults existing after season 7 is sexy to me.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 26 Chapter 26 | fortune's veil⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

After waking from the dreamlike encounter with Aphrodite, you found yourself lying in your own bed, the early morning light filtering through the curtains casting a soft glow across your room.

The surreal experience left you dazed, a mix of confusion and awe swirling within you as you tried to reconcile the goddess' revelations about the lifted curse and its implications for your life.

The warmth of the dream still clung to your skin like a fading perfume, making the mundane reality of your room seem oddly disconnected.

As you sat up, the echoes of Aphrodite's voice seemed to linger in the air, a constant reminder that while the curse was lifted, the capricious nature of the gods remained a powerful force, one that could shift the course of your life in ways you could scarcely imagine.

Unfortunately, you couldn't linger on such thoughts for long. Duty called, and you had responsibilities that wouldn't wait, even for divine revelations. As you finished getting dressed and made your way through the palace, performing your morning duties, you found yourself more observant, more aware of the subtle shifts in the behavior of those around you.

Were they just being polite, or did they sense something different about you now?

It wasn't until midday, as you were lost in thought while polishing the silver in the dining hall, that you were caught off guard by a familiar presence bounding toward you. Callias' grin was wide as he made his way through the bustling corridor, his face lighting up as he dodged around other servants and nearly tripped over a lounging dog in his haste.

As Callias made his way to you, his first words were tinged with surprise. "How come you're still in your servant's attire?" His brows were raised, a playful yet incredulous look painting his features, face still flushed from his sprint.

You blinked, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Callias huffed, his impatience evident. "Were you even paying attention to the king's announcement at the feast last night? He declared that today would be the Cultural Exchange Festival between Ithaca, Athena's domain, and Bronte, Ares' domain. Everyone's supposed to dress in the styles of either place to celebrate the unity!"

At the mention of the feast, a flush crept up your cheeks, your mind involuntarily recalling the incident with Telemachus—how close he had been, the intensity in his eyes. But just as quickly as the warmth appeared, it tapered off, overshadowed by the realization of why it had happened, the manipulation by Eros, and Aphrodite's subsequent revelation in your dream.

You shook off the memory, focusing back on Callias, who was now watching you with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "I... I guess I missed that part," you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. "It was a hectic night."

"Well, you better hurry up and change then," Callias said, his tone lightening, trying to ease the mood. "You can't miss out on all the fun. Plus, there's a ship docked this morning from a distant land, and they've brought things from far-off lands that you wouldn't believe!"

His excitement was infectious, and despite the lingering thoughts of divine interventions and cursed legacies, you found yourself nodding along, caught up in his enthusiasm. "Alright, lead the way then. Just let me put this away and I'll find something more fitting to wear."

Callias grinned, satisfied with your response, and bounced on his heels. "Great! Meet me at the festival; I'll be lingering near the front. Don't take too long!"

Watching him dart off, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and amusement at his ability to pull you out of your reverie and back into the present. With a more immediate concern now at hand, you hurried back to your quarters, your steps quickening with the prospect of the festival and what wonders it might hold, pushing the complexities of gods and curses to the back of your mind for just a little longer.

.☆.      .✩.          .☆.

You arrived at the festival already in full swing, the grounds buzzing with a vibrant blend of Ithaca and Bronte's cultures. The air was rich with the smells of roasted meats and freshly baked breads, mingling with the sweet scents of pastries and spiced wines that vendors shouted about from their stalls. Children darted through the crowd, their laughter rising above the murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of music from a corner where musicians played.

For the occasion, you had chosen to wear a simple yet vibrant outfit reflecting both cultures. Your skirt was a deep ocean blue, and tied to your head was a forest green scarf, symbolizing the waters surrounding Ithaca and its lush landscapes of land.

Today, you also decided to wear your golden laurel crown, feeling it was fitting for the day's significance. It sat atop your head, catching the sunlight and casting small glimmers onto the path ahead, a subtle reminder of your recent acknowledgment by the gods.

The decorations around you showcased the unity and contrasts of the two cultures. Stands were draped in rich blues and greens, interspersed with bold touches of yellow and red, symbolizing the mingling of wisdom and valor, peace and conflict. Banners fluttered in the breeze, displaying symbols of olive branches and swords crossed in harmony.

As you made your way through the festival, absorbing the lively atmosphere, you suddenly heard your name. Turning toward the sound, you saw Callias making his way toward you with an excited grin, dodging past other festival-goers with a nimble grace that reflected his light spirits. His friends followed, laughing and chatting amongst themselves, clearly caught up in the festive spirit.

"Look who finally decided to join us!" Callias exclaimed as he reached you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you'd miss all the fun."

You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "What's got you in such a rush?"

Callias' grin widened as he gestured broadly to the scene around you. "How can you not be excited? It's not every day we get to see such a blend of Athena's calm and Ares' passion all in one place!"

His excitement was contagious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be fully drawn into the joy of the festival, the earlier weight of divine secrets momentarily lightened by the simple pleasure of the celebration.

The rest of the group finally caught up, each one of them wearing bright smiles that mirrored the festive spirit in the air. "Took you long enough," Callias teased as they approached, his tone light and jovial.

Kieran laughed, rolling his eyes. "We would've been here sooner if Lysandra hadn't insisted on rescuing that runaway scarf from a tree," he said, nodding towards Lysandra who was adjusting a beautifully intricate scarf back around her neck.

"Oh, stop it. It's my favorite scarf, and you know it," Lysandra retorted with a playful swat at Kieran's arm. She then turned to you, her eyes brightening as she noticed your attire. "Oh, I love how you're embracing the festival theme with that crown. It suits you beautifully," she complimented, stepping closer to get a better look.

You felt a flush of warmth at her words, your hand subconsciously reaching up to touch the golden laurel crown. "Thank you," you replied, a bashful smile playing on your lips. You straightened up, cleared your throat, and looked around at the group, eager to dive into the festival's offerings. "So, where to first?"

Surprisingly, it was Asta who stepped forward with a wide grin, her energy almost palpable. "There's this one stall you absolutely have to try," she began, her voice filled with excitement as she grabbed your hand and started pulling you along. "They've got these amazing Brontean pastries I think you'll love!"

Feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of exploring the festival with people your age, you allowed yourself to be led by Asta, her enthusiasm infectious. You cast a half-joking, half-helpless look over your shoulder at Callias, Kieran, and Lysandra, hearing Kieran snort in amusement. "Oh, get ready guys—Asta's going to ramble her ear off about every dish she has to try."

The group's laughter mingled with the music and chatter around you, the sounds of the festival enveloping you in a tapestry of joy and camaraderie.

As Asta pulled you along, weaving through the bustling festival, the next hour unfolded like a colorful tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents.

The festival grounds were alive with energy, each corner bursting with the vibrant traditions of both Ithaca and Bronte. Stalls lined up one after another, each adorned with banners flaunting deep ocean blues and forest greens of Athena's domain, contrasted sharply by the bold yellows and fiery reds representing Ares' territory.

The visual blend of colors not only marked the festival grounds but also symbolized the union of two distinct cultures under a banner of temporary peace and celebration.

You passed by games of skill and chance that drew lively crowds—children and adults alike shouting in excitement. Ithacan games focused more on strategy and skill, like archery contests where participants needed a keen eye and a steady hand. In contrast, Brontean games seemed to revel in strength and endurance, featuring competitions like hammer throws and tug-of-war, which showcased the brute force for which Ares' followers were renowned.

The food stalls were an adventure in themselves.

You sampled dishes that were a fusion of both kingdoms' flavors, but it was a particular pastry that caught your attention, thanks to Asta's insistence. Called "Ambrosia's Delight," this pastry was a deceptive treat—golden and dusted with a shimmering sugar that suggested a saccharine taste. However, upon biting into it, the unexpected bitterness mingled with a subtle sweetness, revealing a complexity that mirrored the delicacy's cultural significance in Bronte.

Apparently, it was a revered treat, enjoyed especially during festivals, symbolizing that even the most heavenly things can have a bitter truth beneath their golden exterior; a very Bronte lesson, considering Ares' patronage and their warrior mindset.

Amidst the laughter and cheers, you found yourself fully immersed in the festival's lively atmosphere, each new stall offering a small window into the traditions that shaped the daily lives of both Ithacan and Brontean citizens.

Asta, ever enthusiastic, narrated anecdotes about each game and dish, bringing them to life with her vibrant descriptions and personal tales. Her stories painted a picture of Bronte's rugged landscapes and the resilient spirit of its people, making you appreciate the depth of her homeland's culture even more.

Just then, Kieran, ever eager to explore more, pointed towards a nearby stall. "Look! They're starting a puppet show over there," he announced, his eyes lighting up as he gestured towards a small crowd gathering a few feet away.

Callias, still grinning from his earlier teasing, leaned in with an exaggerated smirk. "A puppet show, Kieran? What are you, five? Next, you'll be asking for—Oh," His words died in his throat as his gaze landed on someone passing out candy to the children. "They're giving out free samples of Warrior's Ember?"

Kieran barely had time to process Callias' sudden shift before Callias lunged forward, practically shoving past him. "Hey! Watch it!" Kieran yelped, stumbling as he tried to keep up.

"You watch it!" Callias shot back, his usual grace momentarily forgotten as he tripped over Kieran's foot in his rush to get to the glistening treats wrapped in parchment.

The two crashed into each other, a flailing mess of limbs and fabric, before nearly toppling to the ground. Kieran let out a dramatic "oof!" as he scrambled to stay upright, gripping Callias' sleeve for balance.

Callias, undeterred, used Kieran as leverage to push himself forward, regaining his footing before bolting toward the stall. "Out of my way, I'm getting one first!"

"You are not!" Kieran huffed, recovering quickly before chasing after him, both of them shoving and stumbling in a ridiculous race toward the vendor.

Lysandra let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head as she watched the two nearly tackle each other over candy. "Men," she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms before turning toward the puppet show. "I'll go ahead and save us a seat. No point in waiting for them to finish embarrassing themselves."

Asta snorted but nodded. "Good idea."

With that, Lysandra strode off with the air of someone who had witnessed this nonsense too many times before, leaving the boys to their fate.

By the time you and Asta arrived at the puppet show, it was just kicking off. Lysandra had managed to save you both seats, and you slipped into them just as the first puppet appeared.

You glanced over and saw Callias and Kieran a few feet ahead. They were surrounded by a cluster of children, all of whom were watching the show with rapt attention while munching on the colorful candy Callias had been so excited about.

You couldn't help but snort softly at the sight—Callias seemed just as enthralled as the kids, his eyes wide, a piece of candy halfway to his mouth as he stared at the unfolding drama.

You turned your attention to the show, where a vibrant display of craftsmanship was evident in the detailed puppet figures that danced and twirled under the skilled manipulation of the puppeteers. The puppet show was a vibrant tableau of color and movement, drawing you into a world woven from threads of Brontean mythology and lore.

The story unfolded through a series of ornately dressed puppets, each character vividly brought to life by the skilled hands of the puppeteers behind the scenes.

The main character was a Brontean hero, a figure of might and ambition, dressed in a costume that shimmered with hints of dark green and gold, reflecting the militaristic and ambitious nature of his homeland. His armor was intricately designed, each plate carefully crafted to catch the light with every movement, casting tiny reflections across the awed faces of the audience.

As the play began, the hero was introduced in a dramatic fashion. The puppeteers manipulated him to stand tall and proud on the makeshift stage, a wooden sword held high, his voice—projected by a hidden actor—booming across the open space.

"Behold, I am Calix, chosen by Ares, to lead and conquer, to carve my destiny with the edge of my blade!" the puppet declared, his voice echoing with a mix of pride and foreboding.

The story that unfolded was one of epic battles and cunning strategies. Calix, the puppet hero, faced a series of challenges, each more daunting than the last, involving treacherous enemies and mythical beasts. His journey was not just one of physical combat but also of intellectual warfare, as he sought to outmaneuver his rivals and secure his place in the annals of Brontean legends.

You watched, fascinated, as Calix navigated through political intrigue and battlefield prowess, his ambitions growing with each victory. The puppets representing his enemies were equally impressive, adorned in darker hues, their faces carved to express the malice and desperation of those threatened by Calix's rise.

At one point, the tension on the stage reached a peak when Calix faced his greatest enemy—a rival warrior king who had been his friend in their youth. The scene was charged with emotional conflict, the dialogue poignant.

"Why do you climb so high, Calix, only to find yourself alone at the summit?" the rival king asked, his puppet's face twisted in a mix of anger and sorrow.

Calix responded with a steely gaze, his voice unwavering. "It is better to reign in solitude than to kneel in crowded submission."

You found yourself leaning over to whisper to Lysandra, seeking more context. "Is this a famous story in Bronte?" you asked, your voice low amid the rapt silence of the surrounding crowd.

Lysandra nodded, her eyes not leaving the stage. "Yes, it's the tale of Calix the Ambitious, a hero who teaches us both the power of relentless ambition and the isolation it can bring. It's celebrated but also serves as a cautionary tale for those wise enough to heed it."

The play concluded with Calix achieving his ultimate goal, ascending to the highest throne, but at the cost of his personal connections. The final scene showed him alone on his throne, the cheers of his army echoing hollowly in the distance as he looked out over a vast, empty battlefield.

As the puppets took their final positions and the puppeteers bowed to the applause of the crowd, you sat back, the story's moral lingering in your mind. The spectacle had been thrilling, but the underlying message was a somber reflection on the price of unchecked ambition.

The crowd around you erupted into applause, their cheers a mixture of admiration for the puppeteers' skill and contemplation of the tale's deeper meanings. You clapped along, your thoughts still intertwined with the hero's lonely victory as the group prepared to move on to the next attraction, the weight of the story adding a thoughtful note to the festival's festive atmosphere.

As you and your friends wandered through the festival, each stall and display seemed to offer a new facet of Bronte's culture to explore. The air was thick with the scents of spiced meats and sweet pastries, each stand adorned with vibrant banners that reflected the kingdom's love for bold colors and grand statements.

Here, the influence of Ares, the god of war, was evident in the displays of armor and weapons, not just as tools of conflict but as art forms to be admired. Each piece told a story of battles won and the glory of individual valor.

Callias and his friends pointed out various items, sharing bits of Bronte's history with you. "In Bronte, strength and cunning are more than just traits," Callias explained as you passed a display of intricately carved swords. "They're virtues, celebrated and honed from a young age. It's about rising through the ranks, proving your worth in every aspect of life."

Lysandra chimed in, her voice tinged with a mixture of pride and caution. "But that ambition often comes with a cost. It can drive people to greatness, or to acts of ruthless determination. It's admired, yes, but feared too."

The group's conversation gave you deeper insight into the dual nature of Bronte's values—admirable yet intimidating, a culture where power was both a goal and a gauge of one's worth. This realization made the tales of their heroes, like the puppet show's Calix, resonate more deeply. They were not just stories of adventure; they were reflections of Bronte'very soul.

After a while, the group stopped by a water stand, quenching their thirst and taking a brief respite from the midday sun. The festival air buzzed with life—laughter, chatter, the distant echo of music—but as you wiped the back of your hand against your damp forehead, your gaze drifted past the stalls, catching on something... peculiar.

A stand stood slightly apart from the others, nestled in the shadow of a faded, canvas tent. Unlike the bright Brontean and Ithacan booths—draped in banners, gold accents, and vibrant tapestries—this one was plain, almost rickety, with wooden posts that looked as if they had weathered far too many storms. The cloth of the tent, a once-rich shade now dulled by time and dust, stretched overhead, providing a pool of shade that contrasted sharply with the glaring midday light.

A rickety wooden chair sat in front of the stand, slightly off-center, its legs uneven against the dirt-packed ground, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze, creaking softly, though no one sat in it. Yet.

Unlike the other stalls, which called to passersby with boisterous vendors and enticing displays, this one seemed to exist in its own quiet space—an oddity among the grandeur, tucked away yet deliberately placed, as if waiting for the right kind of customer to notice it.

You would have walked right past it if Callias hadn't paused, squinting at the signage that promised insights from the "Mystic Seer of the East." "Hey, Kieran," Callias called out, his tone playful yet curious, "isn't that from the cargo ship that docked this morning? The one with all the unusual crates?"

Kieran hummed thoughtfully, peering at the stand with renewed interest. "Yeah, I think it is. I saw them setting it up early today. Didn't think much of it then, but..." His voice trailed off as he eyed the colorful drapes and the strange, mystical symbols that decorated the booth.

The allure of the unknown was too much to resist. Intrigued, you all approached the stand, drawn by the promise of a different kind of knowledge, perhaps even a glimpse into futures unseen. The psychic's booth, with its mysterious air and out-of-place appearance, offered a break from the cultural exhibitions, a dip into the intriguing world of the mystical and unexplained.

Stepping closer, you felt a mix of excitement and a hint of apprehension—the unknown always carried a thrill, but with it, a shadow of risk. What secrets might the seer reveal, and were you truly prepared to hear them?

Surprisingly, it was Asta who first broke the group's hesitation. "Let's check it out," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of mischief. Her suggestion was met with a round of nodding heads, and together you moved closer to the peculiar stand.

As you approached, a soft jingle echoed from within the tent, like wind chimes stirred by a gentle breeze. Then, with a flourish of colorful fabric, a veiled woman stepped from behind the curtains. She was an enigmatic figure, draped in layers of flowing garments that whispered with every movement, adorned with tiny bells and jangles that tinkled melodiously around her wrists and ankles. Her face was obscured by a sheer veil, and her hands—visible as she gestured to you—were intricately tattooed with symbols and patterns that spiraled across her skin, adding to her mystique.

Positioning herself behind the stand, she began to shuffle a deck of cards with a practiced ease, the cards flipping and dancing between her decorated fingers. "Welcome," she intoned, her voice smooth and slightly accented, "I am Eione, keeper of secrets and seer of futures." Her eyes, the only part of her face visible through the veil, sparkled with a challenge as she continued, "Step forward and receive your future, if you dare."

The group exchanged hesitant glances, the air thick with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Then, with a shrug and a grin that bordered on reckless, Kieran stepped forward. Flipping a rickety chair around, he sat down backwards on it, resting his arms over the backrest, and smiled charmingly at Eione. "Hit me with your best shot," he said, his demeanor casual but his eyes alight with intrigue.

Eione paused, her hands stilling over the deck. She studied Kieran for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if measuring his boldness. Then, with a mysterious smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, she drew a card and placed it on the table before him, face up.

The card depicted two figures standing beneath a radiant sun, their hands almost touching, a choice lingering between them. Behind them, a mountain loomed, and above, an angel watched, as if guiding their fate.

"Ah," she said, her voice carrying a note of amusement, "the Lovers Return. It seems an old flame may rekindle for you, young man."

Kieran raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and skepticism crossing his features. You noticed him shift slightly, straightening in his chair as he leaned forward to get a better look at the card. The hint of a smile played at the edges of his mouth before he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head with a dismissive snort. "Can't wait to see that drama unfold," he said, his tone light but with a curious undertone that betrayed his interest.

He stood up from his chair, brushing off his trousers as he gestured grandly to the others, encouraging someone else to take a turn. Lysandra started to move forward, but Eione raised a hand, stopping her with a soft but firm, "Wait."

Turning her gaze between Lysandra and Asta, Eione's expression grew thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly as if reading something unseen in the air around them. "Both of you, come forward together," she instructed, her voice carrying a note of certainty. "Your futures are deeply intertwined."

The two women exchanged a look, a mixture of excitement and nervousness passing between them before they stepped up to the table as one. Eione shuffled the deck again, her fingers dancing expertly over the cards before she drew two and placed them side by side.

The first card a brilliant sun shining over a child on horseback in a filed of blooming sunflowers, its rays stretching across a clear blue sky—symbolic of happiness and new beginnings. The second card showed a regal woman seated on a lush throne, surrounded by wheat fields and blooming flowers, in a gown adorned with pomegranates representing growth and the deepening of bonds.

"Joy and growth await you both," Eione declared, her voice soft yet resonant in the quiet that had settled around the booth. "Your paths are woven together, reinforcing each other's strength and bringing light to shared endeavors."

Lysandra and Asta looked at each other, smiles slowly spreading across their faces as they absorbed the seer's words. The connection between them, always palpable to those who knew them well, seemed to solidify with the turn of the cards, their hands reaching out to clasp each other's in silent acknowledgment of their shared future.

After Lysandra and Asta had their futures read, their smiles seemed to brighten the space around them. Lysandra, still caught in the high of the moment, turned over her shoulder and called out to Callias, "Your turn, huh?" But he just shook his head, a playful smirk spreading across his face as he declined. "I think I know enough of my future for one day," he said, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

With Callias opting out, Eione's gaze shifted toward you. The intensity of her look made you pause as she asked, "And what about you? Would you like to see what the future holds?" Her voice was smooth, inviting yet somehow imposing.

You hesitated, the weight of the recent revelations about divine influences making you uncertain. But curiosity, and perhaps a desire for some control over the unknown, nudged you forward. You nodded, taking a deep breath, and walked over to sit across from her.

As you settled into the rickety chair, Eione studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to peer into your very soul. She began shuffling the cards, her movements precise and deliberate. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, as if she were seeing something beyond the physical space of the festival. You couldn't help of bein in awe, noticing how her lips moved in silent whispers, adding to the mystique of her craft. 

Then, unexpectedly, her hand faltered.

The cards slipped from her grasp, scattering across the table. Five of them landed face up, splayed in a haphazard arrangement. You leaned forward, your heart pounding as you took in the images on the cards. You weren't sure what they meant, but each of them were richly illustrated, the symbols vivid and ominous.

As you absorbed the powerful imagery, Eione let out a soft, almost imperceptible gasp. Her eyes, previously glazed over as if she were in a trance, sharpened suddenly as they landed on you. Coming out of her daze, her voice grew soft yet carried a weight that drew your ears closer. "I notice the mark of Apollo's favor," she said, her gaze intensifying as she gestured subtly toward you. "It's like a barrier of protection over your fate."

She leaned forward, her hands hovering over the cards as if to gather them but then paused, offering to explain their meanings. "You have much ahead of you," she said, her finger tracing the air above each card as if to underline their importance.

Just as Eione opened her mouth to delve deeper into the explanation, the distant sound of trumpets and the loud announcement of the tournament beginning cut through the atmosphere. The woman sighed, a flicker of frustration crossing her features at the interruption.

With a resigned smile, she quickly listed off the meanings of each card, her words concise but laden with significance. "The Hanged Man calls you to let go and view things from a new perspective, The High Priestess urges you to trust your intuition, The Tower warns of necessary upheaval, The Wheel of Fortune reminds you that life is a cycle of ups and downs, and Judgment... Judgment is a calling to rise and rebirth."

Her eyes met yours once more, lingering with something unreadable. "May you find your answers in these," she murmured, her voice laced with quiet knowing, as if she already understood what was coming.

Then, with a graceful rise from her seat, Eione collected the cards with a sweep of her hands, the images disappearing into the deck with an almost magical fluidity. She nodded to you politely before turning and walking back inside her tent, the curtains closing softly behind her.

Left with a mind swirling with the cryptic messages of the tarot and the enigmatic advice of the fortune teller, you sat for a moment, collecting your thoughts. The festival around you buzzed with excitement and noise, but for a brief moment, you were anchored in a sea of introspection, pondering the path laid out before you by the cards.

Callias broke the heavy silence with his characteristic levity. "Is that the kind of mythical shit that happens when I'm not around?" He tutted playfully, shaking his head. "I'm going to have to really stick around if I'm trying to see a god."

Lysandra, Asta, and Kieran reacted with a mix of surprise and concern. "Damn, that was kind of eerie," Lysandra murmured, her eyes wide as she glanced at the tent Eione had disappeared into.

"Did y'all feel that? That was... cryptic," Kieran added, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily.

Asta, noticing your subdued mood, changed the subject to lighten the atmosphere. "Uh, so, are you excited about the tournament?" she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.

You blinked, taken aback. "What tournament?" The question slipped out before you could catch it.

Callias let out an exaggerated sigh and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, helping you up from your seat. "Poor thing, nothing really gets into that head but music, huh?" he teased, leading you away from the fortune teller's stand. "Didn't you hear? They announced a jousting tournament between the two kingdoms."

The group erupted into laughter at his playful jab, and you couldn't help but smile, playfully punching Callias' arm. "You could have just told me instead of making fun," you chided, though the warmth in your voice betrayed your amusement.

"What's the fun in that?" His laughter rang out as he steered the group toward the tournament grounds, the earlier tension dissipating into the festive air filled with anticipation for the upcoming event. The contrast between the mystical encounter and the lively festival atmosphere felt stark, yet somehow fitting as you all moved together towards the new diversion, the promise of excitement drawing you back into the present moment.

A/N: double update!?! ka0chowwwww. but fr, i got a great explanation for leaving you guys for a bit... somehow, I recently lost some of my notes for upcoming chapters and had to re-write the ending from memory... i was trynna be a show-off to my sis show her how long i had the damn thing (since like when epic first caught my eye around 2021 and i was just writing lil headcanons)  and ended up pressing delete part 😭😭😭 the way my heart dropped to my ass was truly an experience. anywho good news, while re-writing it, i got inspired while smoking for a new fic that will be happening immediately after this one, and y'all i'm so hyped frr, might just drop the first chapter to show you guys soon. other than that, hope you guys have been taking care of yourselves, i know real life has been tough for a lot of us lately, but dont give up, we still got shit to do ❤️❤️ we got this babes, see you

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The Devil’s embrace is warmer than fire.

Warning ⚠️; Depiction of PTSD, nightmares, panic attacks, trauma.

Pairing; Nogitsune!Stiles/Male!Creature/Reader

Summary; You meet Stiles at the University as your roommate. A very traumatized roommate that you quickly grew fond of and soon became protective of. And Stiles welcomed your embrace in his nightmarish nights.

Note: I got that idea after seeing a post saying something like “What if Stiles was left with powers after his possession or transformed into a Nogitsune and so Incame up with this!

Credit @cafekitsune

Starting University was a stressful period for anyone, but for someone like you, inhuman? It was worse. Not knowing who would be your roommate or even if you'll be compatible. Your biggest fear was being paired with another creature and fighting for the room. You didn't have the resources to get your own place nor the possibility to explain why you would need to change room.

But you were lucky and ended up with a human.

Stiles was one hell of a phenomenon. Full of energy, extraverts and as bright as a sun, but you saw through his act and quickly realized he was wearing a mask. His eyes, his smiles never reached them and the dark circles under them immediately told you your roommate experienced sleepless nights. And he was so reactive. The simplest sound was enough to make him flinch and tense like a deer caught in headlights. Stiles had been through some bad shits, it was obvious the moment the two of you met. Yet, he was still so welcoming of you and so happy to have a roommate. He spoke of movies and cinemas nights, going out for pizza and beer or even gaming together.

He won your heart just like that.

You thought your years of University would be easy, comforted you were to share your room with a nice guy like Stiles. Someone you could grow close to and call a friend. It would be nice to have someone with who going out and having fun. Someone who wouldn't judge you for what you were.

You were wrong and the first night proved it without a doubt.

You were woken up by the sounds of painful whimpers and hushed begging. You groaned, opening your eyes and searching for the source. In the dim moonlight coming from the window, you saw Stiles trashing around in his beds. All his blankets were in the ground, but he still fought like the devil was after him.

- “Please no… Derek!” Stiles whined and flinched in his sleep.

- “Ow, Stiles, wake up man. You dreaming.” You groaned, burying your face in your pillow as to dim the sounds.

But he didn't wake up.

So you got up and leaned down above him, gripping Stiles’s shoulder and shaking him. He woke up, scared and before you could react, punched you in the face. You fell on your ass, holding your chin, shocked. As for Stiles, you heard him panting and whispering how sorry he was. In his voice, you heard little sobs.

You said nothing, just sat next to him and held him until dawn. Until he finally calmed down.

But each night was the same thing; nightmares and impossible to wake Stiles up without him trying to defend himself. He never spoke about what happened to him and you understood. Who want to share their trauma to anyone? Especially when it was clearly still fresh. But it wasn't long before you learned he had encountered creatures like you and fought them. How in hell was Stiles still alive, you didn't know, didn't ask. How were you supposed to explain he talked in his sleep? How he cowered and begged Derek or others to help?

Stiles was pathetic and you pitied him. No human should have to go through whatever he did and be left alone after.

And as days passed, you began to notice little changes in Stiles. The way he smelled was changing just like the world around him. Things began to happen, chaotic almost like fighting in the corridors, students insulting the teachers and so on. You saw Stiles’ skin becoming paler and he had a harder time feeding. But then, he would get better after touching certain people while helping them.

But the nightmares didn't get better, in the contrary.

So one night, you made a bold move.

As Stiles trashed around, you woke him up by throwing a tennis ball at him to avoid being hit. Poor Stiles screamed and sat, shielding his face with his arms and panting like a dog. It broke your heart. You grew fond of Stiles and became close friends with the eccentric young man. But as Stiles looked at you, you joined him in his bed.

- “H-hey! What are you…” Stiles began, but you shushed him and wrapped your arms around his torso.

As you lay down, you pulled Stiles against your naked chest and shivered as you felt how cold his skin was. Ice cold and he was shivering like a leaf. You pulled the blankets over you two and grunted as you ordered dered him to go back to sleep. Of course, Stiles argued, tried to make it seem like he was fine, but you just wrapped your arms tighter around him. After a few minutes of rent, Stiles relaxed and even snuggled closer. His breath against your neck made you shiver and you closed your eyes.

- “I know what you are.” Stiles whispered, shivering lips brushing against your warm skin.

- “I swear if you are quoting Twilight, I will carry you to the nearest lake and throw you in it.” You groaned, trying to play it off, but your heart raced in your chest.

It wasn't possible, right? You were careful and never let anything show. So how? How could Stiles know and show no fear? Anyone with more than two brain cells would run away from you, not let you hold them like that.

- “It’s fine, I am not scared. I know you won't hurt me and I won't tell anyone.” Stiles added with a sigh. “Not the first one I meet.”

And with that, your roommate fell asleep in your arms, leaving you confused as fuck. You didn't know how to react or what to do. Should you abandon the university and run away? Should things stay the same? You didn't want to go and leave, you had made friends and Stiles had become important to you. You were protective of the little human for reasons unknown, but his admission scared you.

Raising a hand, you brushed Stiles’s hair and smiled weakly as you felt how soft it was. You closed your eyes once more, burying your nose in it. You couldn't leave, couldn't abandon Stiles. So you would stay and see where things went.

And so began a new habit. Each night you would join Stiles in his bed or he would you in yours and you would keep an eye out in case he had a new nightmare. Funny enough, Stiles never had one as long as he was by your side and you didn't know how to feel about that. It was proof he felt safe next to you, but you weren't used to it. You were a monster, something humans usually called the Devil, so why did Stiles feel safe with you?

It didn't make sense, until it did.

Alone in your shared room and bed, Stiles began sharing memories of the past years. You learned who was Derek and his pack and all the adventures Stiles went through. May they be happy or painful, Stiles shared them with you. You were horrified upon learning Stiles was possessed by a Nogitsune. You never met one but knew what they were capable off.

It explained the nightmares.

It explained everything.

Why his scent changed, why everything weird and chaotic happened around Stiles. The Nogitsune had left its traces on your friend, slowly transforming him. A shiver ran down your spine at the realization. Stiles wouldn't be human for long and no one had told him, leaving you to announce the bad new, but how?

To thank Stiles for his trust, you shared with him facts about your nature and answered all his questions. God did he have an endless list of them! His questions kept coming and you even wondered if you had made a mistake, but each time you looked down and saw the twinkle of joy and curiosity in his eyes, you knew you made the right choice.

You softened by his side, for once not feeling disgusted by what you were. Stiles took care of you as much as you took care of him. He helped you study, and was there for you when instinct became too strong and overpowered you. You never hurt him, on the contrary. You grew more protective of Stiles as days and weeks passed and before you realized it, you began seeing him as your mate.

Mate.

A simple word that carried so much weight and duty. Like telling him the truth about his transformation.

It was a hard conversation filled with denial and screaming and tears from both of you. You hated being the one to announce the news and seeing the hurt in Stiles’ eyes. Each tear he shed broke your heart even more. But in the end, Stiles couldn't deny the truth and you promised him it changed nothing between you two. You didn't fear nor was disgusted by him. That night, Stiles cried himself to sleep in your arms.

You didn't say anything about your feelings, didn't act different by fear of breaking the friendship you had with Stiles. You couldn't bear the thought of losing him just because of something out of your control. But Stiles proved to you he was more observant than you ever thought. You came back to your room one day only to find both bed pressed against one another and Stiles sitting there on the phone. He was speaking to his father while taking notes in one of his school books.

- “Of course, I am coming back home for Christmas, but I already told you I wasn't going to be alone.” Stiles said as he rolled his eyes. “I want you to meet my boyfriend. Yeah, boyfriend! I told you years ago, but you said I wasn't gay because of how I dressed!”

Stiles laughed, a soft snort, as his smile grew upon seeing you. He waved his hand, signalling you to come closer. And you did, not in control of your body. You slowly got onto the bed and lay down next to Stiles before his hand fond your hair and stroked it. All tension left your body and you were able to breathe again. You closed your eyes, snuggling closer and wrapping your body around Stiles. You heard him chuckle and he gently scratched your neck, sending little shivers down your spine.

- “What can I say? I found a diamond and I am not going to lose it.” Stiles replied to something his father said. “He’s keeping me safe, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You smiled, face buried against his tight.

He had noticed the way you acted, the way you always put yourself between him and any other creatures you might encounter. You didn't thought he would realize what you were doing, but that was underestimating Stiles.

Your boyfriend…

Such a strange but welcomed realization.

The travel to Beacon Hills, California, was a nice one but you weren’t impatient to do it again. You were growing nervous with each passing hour, not knowing how Stiles’ father would be toward you. You barely heard anything about the man except from the stories Stiles shared and you were conflicted about how to feel toward him. Then there was Derek’s pack. You were going to walk on their territory without warning.

Would they smell how Stiles’ scent had changed?

Naturally, your boyfriend picked on your nervousity and tried to help calm you down. Listening to him rambling about everything and anything was a nice distraction, but a short one.

It wasn't long before your mind turned back toward the future and what could go wrong. An angry pack of werewolves weren't easy to deal with and maybe Stiles wouldn't be enough to keep the peace. Worse, maybe he would get hurt trying to or they would turn against him because of his transformation. But you wouldn't let anything happen to him, never.

All those worries in the end were useless.

Everything went more than fine. Noah Stilinski of course gave you the talk, but it was expected. Not only was he a sheriff, but Stiles was all he had left. It was only natural he would want to protect his son. Besides that, you enjoyed meeting him. He didn't ask questions about your nature, but you knew he knew you weren't human with just the way he had looked you up and down. Maybe he had expected it too. Stiles didn't seem to surround himself with normal people after all.

No, the only rough meeting you had was with Derek and his pack. You had expected it, but it went smoother than you thought. They all gave you threats of course, as if you had the intention of hurting Stiles or breaking his heart. The worse had been Derek and the way he had looked at you, his eyes turning red at some point.

It had been Stiles who had calmed him, but for once he didn't see what you did.

Possession, jealousy… guilt. So many emotions in Derek’s eyes and you knew why. He had his chance,lost it and now you had what he desired but couldn't have.

You had Stiles’ heart.

Knowing it, you felt a sense of pride. You were proud that Stiles had chosen you as his mate, even tho he wascould have found so much better. You stayed close to him, arms wrapped around him knowing damn well what you were doing. Not just putting your scent on him, but showing off. And trying to cover his true scent, wanting to protect your boyfriend’s secret.

Derek caught on it, but not Stiles and your poor boyfriend kept wondering what the fuck was going on.

And the day passed slowly for you, but not for Stiles. You watched as he enjoyed every second of the reunion, as if he was back home. Yet, you could tell something was wrong about the interactions. It was as if Stiles didn't belong among them anymore and you wondered if they had caught on about Stiles. But bless his heart, your mate never realized anything and didn't had his heart broken. And a part of you hoped it was you who was the problem and not Stiles, but every fiber of your body screamed for you to stay close to Stiles, you couldn't leave him alone.

That night, as you laid in bed with Stiles, you tried to be a comforting presence to him. While he was clueless about what was going on, your mate still was worried about what was happening to him. He wasn't fully human anymore and yet not a Nogitsune yet. He was trapped between two natures, two worlds and it scared him. You shared his feelings, but tried to make him feel better.

- “Whatever the future hold, we are going to face it together. I promise.” You swore, face buried in his hair.

Stiles nodded, his face buried against your naked chest while his fingers grabbed onto you for dear life.

- “Maybe it would be better to not come back here… or rarely.” Stiles whispered and you shivered, knowing he was abandoning his home.

- “I will keep you safe, even if its mean fighting your friends.” You replied and Stiles shook his head.

- “I don’t want you too. Besides, I’m going to join the F.B.I, I told you. I won't have time to come back here often, so better start now and let Derek and everyone get use to it.” Stiles sounded determined, but you heard the small hesitation in it.

You wrapped your arms tightly around him and kissed his head, smiling as you saw how courageous he was being. You could imagine the pain the decision put him through, but also understood you couldn't change his mind.

- “And I’ll be by your side every steps you'll take. We’re in it together, forever, no matter what.” You said and you felt Stiles’ smiling against your skin.

It was a promise, an oath and you were going to keep it. You knew the future was going to be complicated and painful, but it was worth it. A life time with Stiles was more than worth it.

[teddy06writes]

Bitter Goodbye

Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Prompt: "I loved you. Believe me, I did. But then you turned into someone else... someone terrible."

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, breaking up, Tommy kinda being a dick

Summary: Before everything, you and Tommy had been childhood sweethearts. But when the war changed him, he expected you to change with him...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been nearly a year since the war had ended, and by now your hopes that things would go back to the way they had been before, were long gone. Nothing was quite the same, but business at the betting shop was booming and even if he didn't confide in you the way he used to, you knew that Tommy was planning something big.

Before the war, there was hardly a thing in his life that Tommy didn't share with you. Not a day would go by where you couldn't be seen out in the street, arm in arm with Tommy, talking and laughing. Practically everyone in Small Heath was just waiting for the day when wedding bells would final chim.

As much as you hated to admit it, you were waiting too. But money was tight, and Tommy swore he wanted nothing but the best for you, even when you told him that you'd happily marry him on the bank of The Cut without a second thought.

In a way, you supposed, the war had only amplified what he already was: Ambitious and prideful. Only now, he didn't cut you in on his plans, and you saw him less and less with every passing day.

You could barely remember the last time you had actually spent time together. In a way, it felt like your relationship was already over. Maybe that was why it was so easy to make up your mind about leaving.

Originally, when Tommy first got his orders, the plan was for you to be married before he shipped out-

"Just in case," His voice wavered, but he still met your eyes, "So if anything happens to me, you'll be taken care of..."

"No- no- nothings going to happen Tom," Tears slipping down your cheeks, you had buried your face in his chest, "You're going to be fine."

Of course, the wedding had never actually happened. Somewhere between his deployment being moved up, Arthur and John's own orders coming in, and the scramble to make sure the betting shop would be safe in Polly's hands, there was never time.

Oh well, you supposed now, that just made it one step easier to walk away.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Tommy's voice at the bedroom door pulled your packing to a resounding hault. You cleared your throat before carefully resuming folding a blouse, "Yes. My cousins house in Liverpool. I'm on the 4:30 train."

He let out a sigh, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see him rubbing at his temples, "Were you planning on telling me or just disappearing?"

"I told Polly. And I'd've left a note." You said, finally looking up at him.

Tommy met your gaze evenly, but you could still see the flash of hurt in his eyes, "I know you told Polly. Darling- why not just tell me, that your unhappy?"

"Tell you? Tell you?" You repeated incredulous, "I never see you, Tommy, and when I do it's like you're not even really there! And unhappy does not even begin to cover it!"

He took a step further into the room, "Listen to me love, I swear to you, if you wait just a couple week more, for all this business to be over-"

"What business, Tommy? Or have you forgotten that you've neglected to tell me anything for the better part of six months! I've found out more about Billy Kimber and those blasted guns from John than you!"

"It was meant to be a surprise..." It was the quietest you had heard his voice in years.

"What, that you were taking over Kimbers territory? That you're selling out communists left and right? What about that is meant to be a good surprise, Tom?" You demanded.

Tommy's face twisted, and suddenly he was yelling too, "That we were moving up in the world! That with the money coming in we could finally get out of this shit hole!"

You let out a scoff, shaking your head, "Oh, and you'd finally marry me I'm sure, as if you haven't been treating like a stranger for months."

"Darling-"

"No. No apologies, no flowery words, no promises of changing," You stuffed the last of your things into your suitcase, and slamming in closed, "I'm done, Tommy."

He caught your arm when you went to go around him, standing between you and the door, "I thought you said you loved me."

You swallowed, looking up at him, "I did love you. Believe me I did. But then you turned into someone else... someone terrible."

Tommy's face broke, but you had to continue, "You scheme, and you lie and you do what you can to get ahead, and I can almost understand that, but not when it means cutting me out. There's no point in me staying here anymore."

For a long moment, a dozen emotions passed over his face, until finally, Tommy pulled a mask of neutrality together, speaking coldly, "I suppose you should go then."

You shook your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat, "Goodbye, Tommy."

~~~~ Enjoyed this fic? Help me buy textbooks :)

[kikyoupdates]

Changing Plotlines ⭑˚💞⭑ 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟

yandere!ocs x f!reader

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

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

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“Honestly, I thought you would’ve given up by now,” Sergei sighed.

“What? Of course not,” you frowned. “I’ll have you know I’m very serious about this. Look, I’ve even been practicing!”

You proceeded to swing your wooden sword with visible enthusiasm, making cutting motions left, right, and center.

Needless to say, he wasn’t impressed.

Today marked the second day of your lessons with the kind-hearted knight who ended up meeting a gruesome fate. Naturally, you had no intention of getting ahead of yourself. It wasn’t as if you expected to become some sort of prodigy overnight. But every effort counted, and the more you practiced, the better equipped you were to defend yourself if something went awry. After stupidly letting your guard down and helping out Flora, you needed to keep up with your training, now more than ever.

“So?” you huffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “What do you think?”

Sergei’s brows were creased. He looked like he was searching for the right words to say.

“I think that you have absolutely no talent with a sword.”

Okay, well he clearly hadn’t found the right words, because ouch.

“You’re so mean,” you whined. “This is only our second lesson! Don’t you think it’s too early to jump to conclusions? Of course I’m not going to be great right off the bat. I’m only a beginner. Were you immensely talented from the get-go?”

“Yes,” Sergei said calmly. “My talent is the whole reason I decided to become a knight.”

“Ugh. Okay, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is that someone can suck at something at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they can’t improve one day.”

“I agree with that,” Sergei acknowledged. “I’m not saying that you can’t learn, but from what I’ve seen, it’s already quite clear that this isn’t the sort of activity that will come naturally to you. Everyone has different types of skills. Why not take up a hobby that you might be better suited towards? It could save you a lot of frustration, and sword-fighting really isn’t the sort of thing a lady like you will ever have any use for...”

But I can’t learn something else. It’s not like I’m doing this for fun. I need to make sure I’ll have some way of protecting myself.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell him that for you, learning to use a sword was absolutely essential. So, you did what you did best. You lied.

“As I’ve told you before, I am a very prudent woman,” you said.

Sergei snorted. Okay, rude.

“Lately, I keep having nightmares of criminals attacking me in the middle of the night, and I can’t do anything but quiver helplessly. I refuse to be helpless,” you frowned. “I never want to end up in the sort of situation where I just cower in fear and hope for the best. I want to take charge of my life and fight until the very end.”

“This seems to be an ongoing concern of yours,” he remarked, looking a touch concerned. “Being cautious is all well and good, but there is such a thing as worrying too much. If you’re really so afraid, why don’t you just make sure to take a personal guard when you go out in public?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“So, then...”

“But if they fail to protect me, then I’m right back to square one.”

Sergei shook his head in disbelief. “Alright, alright. If training with a sword will really help to put your worries to rest, then I suppose it’s the least I can do for you. But you really should know that the odds of you getting hurt, especially if you aren’t on your own, are remarkably slim. Infinitesimal, even.”

Ha. You’d be surprised.

“Yes, I know,” you said, mustering a smile. “But this really does make me feel better about the whole thing. I feel powerful, even though I realize I’m far from it yet. And now I have the added challenge of becoming so good that you’ll be forced to eat your words. Hehe.”

“At the very least, your enthusiasm is certainly admirable,” Sergei chuckled.

Right. That was all you had, really. Enthusiasm. And fear. Fear for your life. With such emotions driving you forward, you were certain that you could somehow compensate for your lack of athletic abilities.

As proof of your readiness to train your butt off, you swung your sword several times in quick succession, building up a noticeable burn in your arms. Sergei wasn’t saying anything, just watching you in silence. It didn’t matter if you sucked. Hell, you knew you sucked, but that still wasn’t going to change the fact that you were going to do this, no matter what.

“Lady [Name], please stop,” he eventually said.

You looked back at him in confusion. “Yes? Am I doing something wrong?”

“You’re doing many things wrong, but that’s not what I was getting at. How would you like to try using a real sword today, just to get a feel for it?”

You could hardly contain the grin that burst across your lips. “Really?!”

“It would be good to try,” he nodded. “If the point is to protect yourself, a wooden sword won’t do much to achieve that. It was just to get you a bit familiar with the length and girth of the weapon you’ll be holding. Keep in mind that the real thing will be quite a good deal heavier, though. It will be difficult to adjust to at first.”

“That’s totally fine!” you babbled, eager to finally try out the real thing. You’d never held a sword before. It was difficult to even find swords back in your previous world. All of this was to learn how to protect yourself, but it was still so exciting!

Sergei bit back a smile. “It’s not that amazing. But I have to admit that it’s quite amusing to watch you react so expressively.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused. C’mon, gimme!”

“You certainly don’t speak like a noblewoman, though... anyways, here you are. Be careful. Don’t move too suddenly with it.”

He gently placed the hilt of the sword in your hands, with the blade pointed downwards. You couldn’t feel the full weight of it yet, not while Sergei was still gripping it as well.

But then he let go. And the sword fell to the ground.

“Ouchie!” you squealed, frantically shaking your wrist. “My hand nearly broke!”

Sergei clamped a palm over his mouth. “Pfft... n-no, you’re just exaggerating. I did warn you, my lady. Perhaps you were just surprised. Care to try again?”

You grimaced, cheeks glowing bright red. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a bit, but that thing was heavy as all hell! In the interest of staying as safe as possible, you knew wielding a sword was practically crucial, but you were slowly realizing that it was an even bigger obstacle than you’d once presumed.

“I can do it,” you huffed, crouching down to pick the sword back up. “It’s okay. I have muscles. Weak, underused ones... but they’re still muscles!”

Sergei was trying not to laugh at you—and failing horribly, at that.

But by some miracle, you managed to pick the sword up. Granted, you had to hold onto it with both hands, and the strain it was placing on your wrists was enough to make your arms shake, but you were actually holding a sword. God, you felt like such a badass!

“I-I’m amazing,” you said, grimacing in between breaths. “Showstopping, incredible, phenomenal. S-Super epic... ugh, I just can’t anymore!”

You dropped the sword once again, sighing in relief. Okay, so it was a work in progress. Strengthening your wrists would likely be crucial. Maybe you could practice by repeatedly opening jars.

“Good effort,” Sergei mused, flashing you a thumbs-up. “It was—pfft! —very entertaining."

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed it,” you eye-rolled.

“Weren’t you going on earlier about how you’d make me eat my words? Surely the weight of the sword isn’t enough to make you quit?”

“I have no intention of quitting,” you reassured. “That being said... is it all possible to make my own sword? One that’s a bit lighter? I’m not as tall or strong as you. I can have one personally customized to better suit me, right?”

Sergei nodded. “Yes, you can have one made by a blacksmith. If you provide him with the rough dimensions of the sword, and what sort of materials you’d like to have used, I’m sure he can craft one that’s more comfortable for you to use. It still won’t be too light, not if you want it to be sturdy enough to deal damage, but you can figure out the details and strike a good balance between what you’d like to achieve.”

“Is there a particular blacksmith you recommend?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Remind me to write down his name and some other details for you later.”

“Alright. In that case...” You picked up the wooden sword instead of the real one, smiling sheepishly. “Um. Until I have my personal sword made, I’d like to stick with this one, if that’s okay...”

Sergei was clearly holding back the urge to laugh again. “Whatever you say, Lady [Name].”

“Back to training I go,” you hummed. “Watch this! Consecutive wooden sword slashes, but at a dizzying speed. Hyah!”

“Again with the battle cries...”

Even if you were still a noob in the purest sense of the word, over time, your body was bound to adapt. You were intent on getting by through muscle memory alone. Besides, as far as you knew, only two of the yanderes were proficient sword-fighters themselves—namely, Triston and Friedrich. So long as you were armed, and they weren’t, you would probably stand a chance.

Point being, it was best not to skimp on your training. Even if you probably looked like a fool flailing around all over the place.

Still, it was certainly tiring swinging a heavy wooden sword continuously. With every motion, you could feel your arms progressively turning to jelly. Coupled with the fact that it was so hot out, you were really starting to break a sweat.

“Time out,” you groaned, throwing your sword down. You tried to fan yourself off with your hand, but it wasn’t doing much good. This goddamn tunic was making you burn up. It needed to go.

So, you proceeded to get rid of it, stripping your outermost layer and exposing the thin camisole you had underneath. The relief was almost immediate. Granted, it was still hot as hell, but your skin could finally breathe now.

“L-Lady [Name]!” came the horrified splutter. You turned to find Sergei gaping at you in disbelief, several shades redder than he’d been a few seconds ago.

“Yes?” you frowned.

“You can’t just get undressed like that all of a sudden! Please remember that you are in public!”

He looked away in a hurry, and you had to admit, it was kind of cute. In the game, Sergei made every effort to act the part of a knight. He was sometimes guilty of being too serious, although he eventually came to let his guard down around Flora, after falling for her gentleness. From what you recalled, he’d never been much of a joker, yet in the few interactions he’d had with you, you’d already gotten to see him laugh it up plenty of times at your expense. And now he was even blushing. It was refreshing to see such different sides to a character you liked.

But honestly, you didn’t really get what the big deal was. The camisole was pretty thin, sure, but it wasn’t all that revealing. A tiny bit of cleavage and bare shoulders, but that was about it. Back in your world, people showed plenty of skin, so you definitely weren’t used to such an innocent reaction. Your case especially was rather unique. Countless doctors and nurses had seen you butt naked before, so something like this hardly fazed you.

Watching Sergei get increasingly flustered was rather amusing, though.

“You can drop the title, you know,” you chuckled, still fanning yourself off. “Just [Name] is fine.”

“No, I really mustn’t,” he insisted. His face was buried in his palms, and it almost seemed like he was itching to move them out of the way and steal another peek, but his willpower remained undaunted. “This is already quite improper... and you allow me to speak to you so casually in the first place. Now, please, will you get dressed?”

“Aw. But it’s way too hot out. I’d rather keep practicing like this.”

“Lady [Name], what you have on leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Please, for my sake, I’ll ask that you cover up again.”

“Prude,” you muttered under your breath. Alright, alright. You could sort of understand that this was set in a different time period, with different standards and all that, but you were really struggling to feel modest given your previous lived experiences. Guess that was yet another thing you’d have to get used to here.

With a great deal of reluctance, you put your tunic back on, cursing the fact that they didn’t even have air conditioning in this world.

“You can look now,” you announced. “Rest assured that my breasts are back in their rightful place.”

Sergei gritted his teeth, still red as a tomato. “In the name of all that is holy, I am literally begging you to stop.”

“Hehe.”

“Don't hehe me!”

It was safe to say that Sergei was too embarrassed to look you in the eye for the rest of your training session.

Cedric Lightsteel, huh?

You stared down at the piece of paper in your hand. It was the name of the blacksmith Sergei had personally recommended to you. Sergei spoke very highly of him, so you didn’t doubt that he’d be able to craft you the perfect sword. Once you’d obtained a weapon tailored to suit your needs, you were confident that your skills would improve astronomically.

Anyways, things were looking good. As expected, it felt good to plan everything out in the event that you got caught up in something dangerous. Based on the natural progression of the plot, you still had plenty of time until the yanderes began exhibiting their dangerous tendencies—not that you planned on ever seeing any of them again.

There had been a little hiccup with Flora, sure, but you’d ignored her letter. By now, you were confident that she would’ve gotten the message. Even if you did feel really shitty about it.

“Man, I’m pooped,” you yawned, stretching your arms out. Living in a healthy body really was incredible. You’d worked your butt off today, and you were definitely tired, but it still didn’t even come close to the fatigue you experienced every single day back in your old life. Even with minimal activity, you’d been in a perpetual state of exhaustion back then. You slept just about always, lied around doing very little when you were awake, and your body struggled to do even that much.

It almost made you want to cry. The fact that you actually got to live like this now. That was why you needed to hold onto it with all your strength.

You decided to unwind by taking a nice, hot bath. Modern day luxuries were certainly missing in this world, but that just meant that you had more time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. You could even feel some of your vigor returning to you as you soaked in the delightful bubbly water. You’d trained for hours, but with this body, it felt like you’d be good to do the whole thing all over again after just a little bit of rest.

Sighing happily, you eventually decided that you were squeaky clean and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body.

Then, you walked back into your bedroom.

Only to find a strange man sitting on the bed.

“Ah,” he smiled upon locking eyes with you. “Did you have a nice bath? I was waiting for you to finish. Come, let’s have a chat."

Unsurprisingly, you screamed.

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[cancerian-woman]

Thoughts on a Elena x Bonnie x Tyler throuple or main trio

Ideally, Elena, Bonnie and Tyler as the main trio (throuple or not too) would’ve been the best option. I say this all the time but Elena, Bonnie and Tyler were never going to have a choice on if they wanted to be involved in the supernatural world. It was destined and ingrained to them without much of a choice. Elena was always going to be a doppelgänger, Tyler was a Lockwood werewolf and Bonnie was a Bennett witch. The writers dropped the ball on many things but these three characters got it worst.

Elena stopped being a fraction of a character when the writers inserted into her and lessened her down to fit Delena. The thing is they could’ve put them together naturally but that just wasn’t an option in the land of Plecverse. She just becomes Damon’s gf. We know she still cares for her career goals but she’s not nearly the same person she was before Damon. Hardly, the same friend she used to be as well. When we were told Elena’s compassion is integral to her characterization.

Tyler couldn’t get an arc outside of enslavement to Klaus or being Caroline’s boyfriend who quote to some fans “treated her terribly”, and we couldn’t even see how he grows throughout his werewolf arc and being a hybrid was great to him until it was just about a sirebond. Then he’s criticized for wanting to kill Hayley&Hope when Klaus & Hayley played a part in ruining his life. I’m sorry why was he supposed to spare Hayley when nobody spared Carol for him? It’s just upsetting knowing that Hayley got a full werewolf centered arc and Tyler couldn’t get half of that. Tyler is the only male I believe truly changed his actions and wanted to keep being the newer version of himself. It wasn’t just for romance.

Imagine a scene of Elena and Tyler discussing their sirebonds! It’s a significant experience that only those two know about. Imagine Tyler and Bonnie talking about how their parents screwed them over.

Bonnie what isn’t wrong with her storylines? I just can’t get with anyone that praises Bonnie for not lashing out when she goes through trauma after trauma. I don’t get why black women are supposed to be emotionless mules while her white counterparts on TVD&TO can have the free will to push their emotions. From romances, to her personal life and her family. Future career goals what are they?!

These three deserved so much better fr and it pisses me off.

[skyfallscotland]

This was a stellar analysis and if everyone who is NOT Helena could just ignore this reply that would be amazing. (Not really, you don’t have to, but like if you think I’m dumb just whisper it quietly to yourself and if you can’t handle dissection of the text or SOMETIMES dissatisfied opinions, then also turn away this is not for you, I don’t want more anxiety it was just too long for the comment reply box).

I laughed out loud at “modern au” 😭😂 she just wanted to get in on that, she saw us writing relatively happy Xaden and went you know what, that seems like fun

I just think the new “brother” being Bodhi is so trite and heavy handed 😩

I actually just assumed this was a six month period like the last two books so Aaric’s signet could have manifested a month in LMAO damn it. PLUS, before Rebecca said that, it did line up for him having manifested during the battle of Basgiath. His whole speech to Vi about having to choose between Lilith and her seemed a bit too on the nose to me.

If it IS Bodhi for the reasons RY implies and Xaden’s like wow he’s the last person I’d expect…it really isn’t a good look for Xade in my opinion 😭

What is a random vindictive gene if not a birth defect? Though I think maybe it could have been better demonstrated by Violet having had the fever and never recovered herself (a la POTS/CFS) if she wasn’t going to actually do something with it, but then I also think making the illness the result of her being “the bad guy” could also give neggy connotations? Idk it really depends if she plans on expounding on veninism—I know we’ve talked about this before.

But also on this—was Vi just a preemie baby? Was she just small? Because (afaik) a hEDS presentation probably wouldn’t be immediately obvious until she’s four? Five? Which is def old enough to remember going with daddy to a temple if it was a big deal/memorable event. Like how old was she before this was an idea in Asher’s mind? Or are we just assuming it’s to do with her illness and it’s not. It’s never overtly said.

I also think, on the venin, that perhaps in her original idea, they Were supposed to be a very one-dimensional villain, but then we got to writing book two and they made it a five book series and all of a sudden she felt like she had to flesh a lot of things out? And that maybe that is where things became unstuck and not greatly paced in regards to them as a concept?

“She is warmth and light and air and love” CRYING

Also, out of order with my other thoughts but I didn’t really get the ice analogy (when reading it in the book), I’m sorry, I’m dumb but it feels clunky.

SGAEYL IS HIS MOTHER

I don’t know who that person on the isle even was and his real mother should have roasted her for her offences.

Jack kinda implies that it goes initiate then straight to asim, no? Like there’s no in between?

The intentionally misleading writing For Me doesn’t hit. I really feel like she does this continually and I just think it shows poor narrative skill and/or poor choice of POV/tense overall if that’s how you want to do it. At the end of the day, readers aren’t supposed to come away from your book confused. Curious and wondering, yes, but confused, no. I would die if this many people were walking away from my writing going “what the fuck was happening, I almost DNF’d because I didn’t understand a thing” but that’s just me.

I think also, the lack of resolution for anything also ties into this. You have to give your readers some payoff and it can’t just be in the form of fan service. Every book needs to have some subplots that are wrapped up, all good series’ have some subplots wrapped up in each book—you get new questions, sure, but you have some answered too. Onyx Storm just didn’t do that.

Also, I think the Isle of Dunne is a red herring, I think he’s taking the eggs to the irids. They’re the ONLY ones who right now, as far as he knows, conceivably have the power to change the tide of this war, they just refuse to help because they left an irid there once and the dragons perverted her morality? I don’t have a fleshed out theory, but I think they’re the only ones it makes sense for Xaden to try and elicit a deal out of right now and I think he somehow plans on using the cultural exchange student hatchlings to do it 🤪🖤

Question: are the irids technically dragons at all? As we know them?

Were the dragons irids who lost some of their power by drawing from the ground or refusing to worship their gods? Is this devolution at work? I have….questions.

I’m very aware I need to do a re read to clear some things up for myself but I’m just not…wanting to yet ha. It’s also 1am so I’m probably making ZERO sense, I can barely keep my eyes open sorryyyy xx

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the ending!!

I'm soooo sorry nonny. This took 5ever. For some reason, I mentally decided that the completion of this ask would be the end of my Onyx Storm era, and then I didn't want to go near it because I didn't want the book to be done :(. However, I was brave, and I did it. This got insanely obscenely long, so you're getting Xaden's chapter 65 now, and then I'll reblog with Vi's LAST chapter some other time.

Chapter 65: Xaden

Veninism: I think the first thing that comes up in this chapter is the insight into the venin mindset. Xaden's significantly more intense (both than earlier in the book, and in his previous POV chapters). At first, I wasn't a huge fan of the "ice" thing, because I missed the part where he explains it (perks of reading till 5 in the morning) and I thought it was some anachronistic hockey reference. (Fun fact: I wrote this out before Rebecca gave that interview revealing that, yes, it WAS an anachronistic hockey reference. I know that lady WELL.) HOWEVER! The way it's explained here, (essay below the cut)

"Wrath courses like a current under the ice I willingly skate onto, cutting my emotions like the burdens they are so I can be the weapon she needs." (Yarros, 520)

reminds me a lot of a PTSD flashback/trauma event. Not only does this make significantly more sense with the metaphor at hand, but it makes a lot more sense with Rebecca's body of work. I know she's made addiction comparisons, and I can see some lines, but, frankly, I think it's a much more intricate web than a 1-1 metaphor. Especially with the use of the word "triggered" to describe what happens to him when he is "on the ice" as it were, I think (if anything) it's about using an addiction to cope with PTSD-type trauma.

Bond Fuckery: After revealing that Xaden cannot kill the sage himself, he goes on to say,

"I could no more raise a blade to his throat than I could Violet. The bond between Violence and me is the kind of magic that has no explanation." (Yarros, 521)

Which....is weird! Given that we have a precise explanation for said bond in Fourth Wing, maybe something else is going on? #the power of love?? I'm not trying to say they're soul mates in any real tangible way because this is not that kind of story, but I do think it means something. I just don't know what yet.

Further bond fuckery themes are found earlier in the book. There's the entire situation with Andarna leaving, in which Leothan says,

"Bonds are merely magical ties. You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit." (Yarros, 443)

I've definitely seem some people floating the idea that perhaps Andarna broke Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond, re: Tairn's suspicious period of rest on page 526, (I personally thought he was tired from killing some dragons!) and I definitely think that's a possibility. However, I think it's really interesting that, specifically, Leothan also says bend it and shape it. I know we're supposed to finish the book thinking that Andarna/Leothan severed Violet's bond with Andarna, and then re-forged said bond mid-battle. To me...that doesn't really make sense? There was no real moment where you can say, okay, bond re-forged. It just kind of happens? Which I suppose is also how it happens at threshing, so maybe I'm the problem. Still, I think the idea that perhaps Andarna (or another irid??? given her 1 week of training???) bent or reshaped Tairn and Sgaeyl's mating bond (in order to protect Xaden/Xaden's mission/Violet from the consequences of Xaden's mission) is worth considering.

There's also the entire element of modern AU no magic isles. I know a lot of people thought that entire quest section of the book was filler, but I disagree. I definitely think that insertion was meant to demonstrate that the bonds are not as infallible as we've been led to believe, to show their importance to Xaden and Violet, and to further show just how much Andarna is not like other dragons, and therefore able to do shit with the bond.

Xaden's new brother! Xaden starts off describing the new venin by saying,

"and now that my sage has a new sibling he can use against me...I'm screwed." (Yarros, 521)

Then, he goes on to add:

"...my new brother and the unconscious dragon lying in the valley...how could he do this? Choose this after watching me stumble and fall over the last five months. How could he willingly walk the path I've fought like hell to leave? He's the last person I ever would have expected to turn, and yet here we are." (Yarros, 521)

My money's on Bodhi! There's a lot of "brother" mentions surrounding Bodhi, given the repeated descriptions of how similar he and Xaden look. He's "the closest thing (Xaden) has to a brother since Liam." Garrick even thought Theophanie called Bodhi his brother beforehand! It's Bodhi. Further nuance to Bodhi turning is found, in my opinion, in his frustration with Xaden's over-protection at the end of Onyx Storm. This feeling of impotence combined with something potentially happening to Cuir (re: unconcious dragon lying in the valley/Bodhi puking his guts up wherever that quote is) gives him a reason to turn.

I know @skyfallscotland thinks Xaden's new brother is actually Aaric, which is also super intriguing. Specifically, Amy suggested a scenario where Aaric knows he needs to be venin in order to win the war, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get to the future he sees. I do lean more towards Bodhi than Aaric, if only because of the element of knowing for 5 months (which Aaric does not--even if he finds out about Xaden's veninism from his signet, RY has confirmed Aaric didn't manifest in IF, and therefore it cannot have been five months prior to Battle of Draithus), Xaden really seems to care about this new brother. I know he says he has a "complicated sort of loyalty" to Aaric, but I don't think he and Aaric at the friendship level where Aaric can be used against him in the same way Bodhi can. There's also the whole having to give Vi Tyrrendor ordeal. I know some people think Xaden may have had a change of heart and decided to listen to Bodhi in regards to not forcing him to lead Tyrrendor in his stead, and/or Xaden just felt giving Vi the province directly (what a wedding gift!) was the best possible way to protect her. Who knows, not me. I think of Xaden as someone not particularly inclined to listening to people when he doesn't feel like it, but I also know he'll prioritize Vi regardless, so it could go either way.

Slayer! This is just for the one line mention of Berwyn killing the dragons with the alloy dagger. For one thing, I think this draws parallels between the venin and the dragons (which have been a theme the entire series). For another, I think this is how Xaden, Vi, and co. go about killing the dragons and elders in order to get to the eggs. Seems a lot less messy!

Everything, Everywhere, All At Once: Throughout the text, there's a couple mentions of individuals inability to be everywhere all at once. Theophanie, in chapter 60, for example: (from my Kindle copy, so no page numbers, sorryyyy)

"You're just another lightning wielder, mortally incapable of being everywhere at once."

Or, the slightly different take from Mira in Chapter 23:

"Even if he did, we can't be in two places at once."

I have no idea why this got me so bad, but every time I read it, my spidey-senses tingled. I really feel like it means something. Xaden then wraps things up with saying he IS everywhere at once, on page 522 in regards to the veninism amplifying his shadow powers.

Do I know what this means? No! Of course not! At first, I thought it was a papa sorrengail is venin hint, but I don't actually believe in that. I have been holding out hope that perhaps Vi is somehow venin from Lilith (this is why I think papa sorrengail had her dedicated. it doesn't really make sense to me for Rebecca to write her with a real disability, and then have that real disability be a birth defect when it isn't one in real life. that just seems odd?) and I think this COULD be a hint there. Although, as always, who knows.

What is a soul if not love? Some of you may know, I've been getting a wee bit heated about the implications of the corporeal soul. I get a bit gagged by this because it makes no sense. I ask @maethologies probably once a day, what IS a soul? And to that question, I raise you this: what is a soul if not love?

page 523 has this:

""I love you.' Violet's voice cracks the cold, and a silken thread of warmth wedges itself in the opening before it seals shut, locking it in place. No. Wait. I grab for that thread with desperate hands, clawing to keep her as more of my pieces are blown away, lost to the void. She is warmth and light and air and love."

For starters, I think "she is warmth and light and air and love" is my favorite quote from the entire series. It makes me want to cry!!! There's definitely something to the fact that being venin makes Xaden colder, and Violet only seems to get warmer in this book (her lightning being hot enough to blister, for example). But really, my focus here is that he's so aggressively in love with her. I genuinely do not know how people read this line, or the rest of the novel, and somehow thought Xaden was just going to go join up with the venin. Genuinely! I am REALLY not trying to be mean, it just makes no sense to me.

I'm going to go a bit out of order here to further contextualize, but other Xaden Riorson bangers include:

"What even am I? Hers." (Yarros, 524)

And, far earlier in the text, when Courtlyn asks to whom Xaden swears his fealty:

"Violet. (...) My loyalty is to Violet first above everything, everyone else." (this is a Kindle page number because I don't want to find it in my book, LMAO, but it's 326 in that format!)

Again, he's constantly making it as clear as humanly possible that SHE comes first for him. He is not going to spontaneously gain venin loyalty. Whatever soul-fuckery is going on here, it doesn't make him incapable of love. If anything, the presence of love is what is going to continue to save him. In the chapter 48 epigraph, in which a scenario is described wherein a venin returns to their village, desiccating an entire village except for her husband and two children. Clearly, the theme here is that the feeling of love helps venin gain control of themselves when lost to the thrall of power, if you will.

Frankly, there's a LOT of issues with venin as a concept and how willing the fan base is to accept the characterization of the entire "enemy" as evil, soulless, and incapable of feeling and love. Just on the most basic level, think about the real world implications of that ideology for about ten seconds. If you can't do that, think about it in-universe. The entire point of books one and two were that Navarre's government perpetuated a narrative of dehumanization in regards to the Poromish people so that Navarrians could see them as the enemy. This tactic of dehumanization is then DIRECTLY applied to the venin. The narrative on the surface-level is: These people ARE human, but these other guys are the REAL monsters. Please kill THEM instead. I cannot tell you how many times I've seen people say "Violet's never killed anyone in the series, she only kills venin!" The very fact of saying these people aren't human; therefore they can die...do you see what I see? I know I'm a bit more thematically minded than the average romantasy reader, but it's really VERY in your face here.

The most obvious narrative purpose for Xaden choosing to turn is that it gives Violet and the reader a way to humanize the venin, just like working with the gryphon fliers in part two allowed us all to humanize them. After I finished IF, there was not a doubt in my mind that this was where Rebecca was going.

And she went there...a little bit? She's about halfway there, I'd say. Violet has started to internally reconcile with the fact that Xaden being a venin makes it impossible for her to generalize venin any further, but there's definitely still an undercurrent of "he's not like other venin!!" I think this COULD be a logical progression of the story, and, partially, I think it makes sense for it to take a minute for her thought processes to shift. However, I think it needs to be better layered? And I think that when you have a book like this one with such a low barrier to entry, you need to do a bit more thematic hand-holding if you want people to really get things.

Anyway, this was all to say: Xaden loves her, and so, his soul is fine. HE's fine. He's not evil, he didn't marry her just to leave, he's not "team venin". Etc! I could go on about this further, and I think before book 4 I'll be pushed over the edge and do so. But, for now, I do think the direction Rebecca is pushing for is the "cure" being the power of love et. al.

Mommy Issues: We come back to Sgaeyl! I know some people think Sgaeyl breaks the bond with Xaden as part of his 12 hour plan, and again, I ask: literally how.

Basically, unlike his mother, Sgaeyl isn't leaving Xaden. When he breaks through the pulling from the earth haze, he asks Sgaeyl if she forsakes him, and she says:

"'What is there left of you to forsake?' Sgaeyl lowers her head and steam gusts down the canyon, reminding me of the moment she found me in the forest at threshing. (Yarros, 523)

My direct annotation here is : threshing! Threshing = choice. And I'm right! Threshing does equal choice. She has the option to forsake him, and she doesn't! Case closed. I will say, just as a side note, the idea that she'd leave him for being extra venin is wack as hell when he became extra venin for her. I don't think she was that heated about him being venin in the first place: the focus of her ire at the end of IF was that he "picked" Violet. "You cannot! I chose you!/ But Violet chose me too." She's just a pick me dragon at heart.

Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) I touched on this in response to my other ask about the ending, but now we're gonna go beat by beat.

Xaden starts what I call the quest intro by responding to Sgaeyl's threshing part 2 with:

"'You tell me.' I lower the ice and let her in."

Clearly, this is Xaden showing Sgaeyl whatever plan he's been concocting in his head.

Sgaeyl's response:

"Her next breath is laced with sulfur, and her eyes widen. 'You cannot mean to--'"

Now, this is just needlessly vague to make sure we buy the next book. Like we weren't going to anyway. Thank you for extorting me, Red Tower. However, at the very least, it reveals that his plan is, shall we say, problematic? Controversial? Illegal?

Then, we have (from Xaden)

"'You saw what happened. It is the only way.' She glances over her shoulder. 'And you think she'll help?' 'She loves me.' 'Tairn does not, and you haven't looked in a mirror yet. The red veins branching from your eyes look like her lightning.' 'She'll help.' It comes out with a hell of a lot more certainty than I feel. 'She promised.'"

Line by line time!

"it is the only way" is mad interesting from Xaden "the right way isn't the only way" Riorson. It could just be the influence of being venin on his psyche---everything feels more serious now, and he himself is more intense. But it's such an interesting switch, especially since Violet's assumed his way of thinking from FW.

At first I thought the pronoun fuckery in SHE'll help/SHE loves me was meant to indicate that the she in question was not actually Violet, but I don't think so anymore. I do think it's intentionally misleading! Again, for the money. But, more than that, I think Sgaeyl is glancing over her shoulder AT Violet and Tairn to indicate who they're yapping about.

Now, how will she help? I think this is a separate quandary than the marriage (hence where I broke up the text). Personally, I think this is him saying Vi goes with him to get the eggs/kill the dragons/etc.

The veins branching from his eyes are intriguing. I know he says he's no longer an initiate on this page, but I don't think he's an Asim either? According to Mr. Drake Cordella's venin compendium, Asim's veins distend only when riled, but Sage's veins are perpetually distended. (Iron Flame chapter 47 epigraph). I guess we'll see? I don't know, it would make sense to me if he was a sage, but who knows.

And, finally, what the hell did she promise?

WAY earlier on in the book, Xaden says:

"Swear you'll sound the alarm if I go too far, that you'll keep it safe, even if it's from me." (Yarros, 58)

This is what I think he's referring to! I know @hockeyspiral23 thinks the 'it' in question is actually the sword of Tyrrendor (correct me if I'm wrong!!) and not Tyrrendor itself. I definitely think there's something to that theory.

A few pages later, Xaden says:

"I'll use Tyrrendor to protect you, not you to protect Tyrrendor." (Yarros, 102)

Not to be a broken record, but again: Intentionally! Misleading! Content! I think you're SUPPOSED to interpret the promise as Violet saying she'll protect Tyrrendor from Xaden, and Xaden saying he's "gone too far". But when you actually look at the text, there's no way that's what he's saying. First of all, why would Sgaeyl think THAT plan wouldn't work with Tairn? Tairn does NOT fuck with Xaden right now. And then, why would Xaden Riorson, president and CEO of the Violet Sorrengail fan club, prioritize Tyrrendor over Violet? He cares about Tyrrendor, sure, but in the face of VIOLET? It doesn't compare. It just doesn't! ("I love you more than this city. Do not die defending it.") He's not winning any king of the year awards with those priorities, but that doesn't make it any less true. I basically already have a post ranting about this, (here! If you're curious) so I'm going to cut myself off here. Basically, we have to remember who Xaden actually is when we try to contextualize this vague ass chapter.

And then, wedding bells!

"'Even if she agrees, no one will--'

'Someone owes me a favor.'" (Yarros, 524)

This is the part of the quest that I think is more directly the marriage issue. This has already been covered elsewhere, but the Priestess from Dunne's temple says she owes Xaden a favor earlier on. She goes on to officiate their marriage. I just think the wording makes it clear that this is a multi-step plan. (How can Violet "help" with her own marriage?)

I already quoted the absolute banger "What even am I? Hers." But I'm going to bring it up again! His loyalty, primarily, is to Violet. Whatever quest he's going on, it's FOR HER. He steals the eggs FOR HER. He''s taking them somewhere FOR HER. I don't know how to make that any clearer, but if I keep seeing people misinterpret it, I'll probably try again.

Agency!

The final bit I'm going to pull is Sgaeyl saying:

"And her decision will determine our fate." (Yarros, 524).

I think this just really succinctly makes clear my 573938503 argument above. Violet gets final say on Quest Squad (Xaden's Version) but whatever he does do, he's doing it with Sgaeyl. I know there's some good bits Rebecca's said throughout the tour that support this interpretation, but I don't think I need them quite yet. Maybe next time!

For now, that's all. I'll see y'all back here with Violet's chapter in a bit!

[getting-messi]

I’m really debating how much I love Barcelona right now.

Their response to Messi’s move is honestly disgusting.

[dykedvonte]

Danse has to get homesick In Sanctuary. Like despite being uncertain of how much his past is real including times with the Brotherhood, those memories were home. The Brotherhood was home especially the Prydwen.

No matter all the comfort and the luxuries SoSu could put to make him feel more relaxed or like it’s his space it’s still not home. It’s so unique to him cause everyone else has a home in a sense. A thing or place they can come and go to as they please while Danse doesn’t. He can never go back to the people he considered family and they can never go to him without serious consequences. It doesn’t help that (due to his own faults and beliefs) a good majority of the new people in his life do not exactly like him.

It’s so isolating for him as the wasteland is also a different culture in general. Theres so much he’s not used to vs what he is. But all in all I think that’s a good thing. I feel as if Danse had a better arc in game it would 100% have him learning or developing a sense of home before a sense of self. I think it gets overlooked that Danse is a person that likes or feels like he needs to belong to something. A cause, a philosophy, a mission. He needs a goal. He must learn to live for himself and his purpose but it’s clear he wants to find that through something which is why he latches onto the Sole Survivor after rather than just wander the wastes. He needs something, anything to base a sense of self on at this point in time and who better than the person that opened their home to him in the first place.

He’s a dude that needs a foundation or home to ground himself on or else he doesn’t know what to do with himself or even start.

[thegreatyin]

to put a long story short: at the end of ffxiv's base game, literally Directly before the beginning of its first expansion (heavensward), there is a series of quests and story arcs that eventually snowball into an hour-long cutscene in which the entire thing comes to a head in the literal worst way possible. like, "the hero's plans all go horribly wrong and several major characters die onscreen, with others going missing (presumed dead), eventually culminating in the player character being framed for the murder of the leader of a nation-state and being Literally Forced To Flee The Country" wrong.

heavensward leads directly on from this plotline. you arrive at the major location of the expansion in the midst of seeking asylum whilst being a wanted criminal everywhere else in the world right now. it's like. A Whole Thing. the game makes such a big deal out of it all. the fandom does as well. and for good reason!! it's a really good moment!!!!!!

and then roughly 1/3rds of the way into heavensward you find out that literally none of it mattered. nobody important actually died, no changes were actually made to the status quo, and nothing comes of being literally kicked out of the country for (what is implied to be) several in-universe weeks, if not months. None Of It Mattered. None.

TLDR; the bloody banquet is a major, exciting, and very infamous twist that seems like it's going to segway into a MAJOR upheaval of the status quo and some really intriguing ramifications for the story as a whole... and then heavensward does away with literally all of that and practically writes the entire thing off as a waste of time.

you may be able to see why i'm so salty about it.

[lunarruled]

That was a good point, cars were loud and gas was something that people were literally killing each other over. That's why the group she had been with had preferred to simply walk if they had to go out for supplies. Glancing around at everyone gathered she noticed that they were all in pretty good shape physically, but she would have to see how all that would change without the safety of the walls around them and the guards with guns. Another thing she could do without. Loud as hell and ran out of bullets too quickly. The main reason why she carried so many knives on her at all times. While there were no doubts about Rosita, the more questions the other woman asked the more she was starting to wonder if it was a good idea to bring her with them. The thought of leaving her here only for her to perish without the chance of reuniting with her family caused guilt to rise in the half lycan, but it was quickly swallowed down. Such a useless emotion in a world that no longer gave a shit about any of them.

"Bikes would be a great idea. I've seen a lot of them left behind, which is pretty dumb. In a world where gas is about to not be a thing anymore, you would think people would go for the things that don't need it but we're not all that smart." She commented out loud, probably sounding like a bitch but at least she was honest.

Now solar powered items would be amazing if they could be found, so Warren better hold onto the one he had as if his life depended on it. Batteries were going to run out soon too, though Kyleigh had the secret gift of not needing those either. Still she would play along and if any happened to be found she would share them with this small group. They were her family now, the ones she was going to protect and make sure they got to where ever it might be that they needed to go.

What Irina reminded them of next was a valid point. From what Kyleigh could gather no one else around had been prepared for this kind of life, having to rely on nature to provide them with everything they needed. She however was. From an early age her Uncle had taken her out hunting in the woods, showing her what was safe and what wasn't. What could be used for medicine and what should be avoided at all costs. She was born with a system that could handle the normal things that humans couldn't, eat raw meats with a taste for the blood. Damn all of that was going to have to be hidden now, the only downside to being around normal people. And what the hell was she supposed to do when the full moon came?!

Before a full blown panic attack took her over, Warren's information about that supply truck broke through her thoughts and she sighed. For once his mouth said something useful, and while it might be hard to hide four grown ass people in the back of said truck it was a lot better than trying to go over the fence during the night.

"There is a back entrance." The half lycan spoke, hoping that she wasn't trying to put on this air as if she had a way better idea. "I found it one night when I couldn't sleep and was walking around. At the time there wasn't a guard at it, but I haven't been back since so I don't know if there is now. If we could get some bolt cutters we could break the lock on it but that still leaves the dilemma of supplies. I think the truck idea is our best one so far but if there's any other ideas, let's hear them."

Kyleigh had a point; the vehicle would have to be quiet. There was little Rosita knew about those monsters but they always seemed to go in the direction with the loudest noise. Early on, just before she had gotten to the camp with a few other people from the military, she had seen that when she saw a woman screaming and the dead ones turning to walk toward her. As cruel as it sounded; Rosita had been lucky that the woman had chosen to scream that loudly because she had diverted away some of the undead coming towards her and the small group she was with. She knew she wasn’t supposed to feel that way; she had been someone and there might be someone out there who would miss her, but there was no way she would be alive right now had it not been for that woman causing a distraction. At the same time, she somehow felt guilty even though there was no reason to, rationally speaking, as she could never have helped that woman. She just hoped no one of the group would start screaming around when they faced them.

“Maybe we should go for bikes”, Rosita suggested. “Many cars are filled with those undead things, so we’d have to get close to one of them, and we could run out of gasoline and get stuck. But bikes are quiet and don’t need any gas.”

Plus, they didn’t have alarms. Didn’t need to be hotwired because you didn’t have keys.

At the sight of the map, the corners of her lips curved upwards in relief for a moment and Rosita’s shoulders relaxed. At least they wouldn’t have to take guesses where the hell they were going like rats in a maze.

“My solar/powered flashlight will probably come in handy”, Warren mentioned, much to Rosita’s delight, as her own flashlight was powered by regular batteries and she didn’t have any spare ones with her.

“But how are we getting rations? I mean we can’t just leave this place without bringing some water and food. I was in my hometown, a small town before I got evacuated to this camp and even our stores had nothing left. And medicine. The pharmacy was full of dead ones, and the the gas station was completely empty..” Irina reminded, voice desperate.

Rosita’s experience hadn’t been any different, any store she had passed by during the time she’d been out there had been stripped clean or a chaotic mess with smashed in windows and dead inside.

Irina was right; they had nothing. It’s not like they gave you anything more than two daily rations in here.

“They ship rations to this camp using a truck”, Warren reminded, starting to pace, “I don’t know when they’ll be here, but if it helps, I’ve documented the times the truck arrived at the camp and it ranged from 3:42 pm to 6:23 pm. If we managed to sneak inside we could get out of here by the next morning and take a few supplies with us. If we’re lucky, they’ll be here when the absent-minded guard is on duty.”

Rosita pondered the suggestion. “If we manage to pull that off, we won’t have to worry about supplies at least, and it’s not as tough as climbing over the fence. Any other options?”

She wanted to know if the others had any more suggestions. It was better to go through every possible option than to decide for the first thing that came up.