#I’d love to explain what I mean in depth but it would just end up looking like one of those photoshopped ghost pictures with the red arrows

[trashcreatyre]

Soooo sad that I like time eaters design more than solaris’…. Listen it’s mostly the arms thing, I don’t think first form solaris shouldn’t have arms,,, it looks weird to me so sorry gamers

[thewulf]

Escapism || Azriel

Summary: Request -can you make an azriel x night court reader fanfic request? I was listening the song escapism by raye and this just kinda came to me! It's kinda unhinged so you can change whatever if you choose to write it. Y/N and Lucien have been together for like 100+ years but then Elain Archeron comes along and they are mates so lucien begrudgingly breaks up with Reader... Read Rest Here

A/N: This one is sad but gets sweet towards the end. Reader is in her feelings!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.1k +

TW: Drunkeness, reader being mean, some physical altercations

Your relationship with Lucien had always felt destined. Willing it to be woven by the threads of fate and bound by centuries of love and laughter. For over a hundred years, you and Lucien had built a life that straddled the boundary between the Autumn Court and the Night Court, which you called home. It was a life full of compromises and sacrifices, but every moment was a testament to the depth of your affection for each other.

But fate had a funny way of not being so destined. Elain Archeron stepped into the picture. Her very presence unraveling the future you had envisioned. When Lucien revealed that Elain was his mate the foundation of your world crumbled. This wasn’t just about losing a lover. It was about the rending of a bond you believed was unbreakable. Lucien’s voice trembled with conflict as he confessed the truth. His amber eyes reflecting a pain that echoed your own. He didn’t want to leave you, but the mating bond was not something either of you could fight. It was powerful, demanding, and absolute. It was destiny.

Amidst your heartbreak a more piercing pain emerged when you discovered that your friends—Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and even Nesta—had known about Elain and her bond with Lucien before you did. Half of the Inner Circle knew, and the other half was excluded. Amren, Mor, you and Azriel were the ones left in the dark. They had kept it a secret hoping to protect you from the inevitable heartache. Yet this revelation only deepened your sense of betrayal. How could they, the ones you considered family, keep you in the dark about something that would shatter your life?

The night you found out was an uncomfortable one. You weren't usually one for confrontation, but the rage that built up inside you was ready to explode. As you sat among Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta in the quiet, imposing space of the House of Wind the air felt thick with tension. They began to explain, voices low and fraught with anxiety. They each detailed how they had known about Elain and Lucien’s mate bond for months. Their words were meant to be comforting but were instead filled with reasons and justifications about protecting you from heartache, sparing your feelings until they absolutely had to share the truth.

Sitting across from them in the quietude of the House of Wind you couldn’t hold back the surge of anger and disappointment that welled up inside you. "How could you?" you demanded, your voice quivering not just with sorrow, but with indignation. "You all knew. For months, you knew, and not one of you thought to warn me?"

Rhysand had a somber expression. He was the first to respond. "We struggled with whether to tell you," he admitted. His usual confidence replaced by a hesitancy that did little to quell your growing resentment. "The last thing we wanted was to see you hurt."

"And yet, here I am. Hurt all the same," you shot back. The pain sharp in your voice. "Hurt and betrayed. You chose to protect me from heartache but instead you ensured it."

Feyre reached out with her hand tentative and unsure. "We thought we were doing the right thing. We thought it might not happen. That maybe the bond wouldn’t take hold right away and..."

"And what?" you interrupted ripping your hand away from her touch. "That I’d what? Be spared the pain? Look at me, Feyre. Do I look spared to you?" Your voice was sharp. Sharper than you’d ever spoken to any of them before.

Cassian who was usually the one to lighten the mood sat unusually quiet. His usual bravado nowhere in sight. Nesta had her jaw set, her eyes revealing a turmoil that mirrored your own. It was a rare glimpse into her often-guarded emotions.

"It was never about doubting your strength," Cassian finally said, his voice low. "It was about giving you happiness for as long as we could."

"Happiness built on a lie?" you asked. The irony was bitter on your tongue. "Is that what our friendship is about? Lies?"

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Each of them struggled with their choices, now clearly regretting the pain those choices had caused. It was evident in their downcast eyes and the slump of their shoulders. It was a shared burden yet unequally felt.

"I'm not just some fragile piece of glass," you continued. Your anger only fueled by their silence. "I deserved to know, to make my own choices. To prepare, or... to say goodbye on my own terms."

The conversation that followed was a painful unraveling of trust and intent. As they each tried to explain, to justify, you realized that this wound would take time to heal. Perhaps what stung the most was the realization that their intentions had robbed you of your agency. Leaving you to a mere spectator in your own life. They spoke of protection. Of sparing you pain. Each explanation threading through the air with the weight of unspoken truths now laid bare. Their voices blended into a cacophony of excuses, each one fueling the fire of your anger and hurt further.

Rhysand’s voice held a note of desperation as he tried once more to explain, "We only wanted—"

"Would you just shut up! All of you!" you erupted cutting him off mid-sentence. Your voice, resolute, sliced through the room. "I don't want to hear it. Nothing you can do or say will make this right.” The room went deathly silent. The gravity of your words hanging heavily between you. Their faces were etched with regret and shock at your outburst. It was a stark reminder of the deep rift that had formed within your group.

You stood abruptly. The chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I can’t be here," you stated flatly. Your voice colder now, resolved. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, each step echoing your departure.

You needed space. Needed air to breathe away from the stifling atmosphere of justifications and apologies. You decided to go to Mor’s place. She too hadn’t known about Elain and Lucien. She hadn’t been part of the deceit that had upended your world. As you left the House of Wind the open sky above seemed to offer the first breath of true freedom since the revelation had shattered your peace.

The walk to Mor’s was quiet. The streets of Velaris holding a serene calm that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you. Reaching her house, you knocked briskly, and she opened the door with a surprised, yet immediately concerned expression.

"Can I stay here for a bit?" you asked without preamble. The weariness in your voice more pronounced now that you were away from the others.

"Of course," Mor responded instantly before stepping aside to let you in. Her eyes searching yours for the pain she was quick to sense. "Whatever you need."

As you stepped into the refuge Mor offered you felt a slight unclenching in your chest. A small relief in the acceptance of a friend untouched by the deceit that had marred your trust in others. You hoped to find the space to heal. To gather the scattered pieces of your heart and perhaps, in time, to forgive. But for now, you simply needed the quiet understanding of someone who had been kept in the dark as much as you had.

Compounding your agony was the necessity to leave the Autumn Court where you had spent half your time with Lucien. You had to come home completely now, full-time to the Night Court. Each step away from the Autumn lands was a reminder of the isolation waiting for you back home. Away from the life and love you had known. The Night Court felt more oppressive than ever. It was supposed to be your sanctuary but now it only served as a cage. It was trapping you with your memories and your pain.

Despite the profound sense of betrayal and the sharp sting of heartache that pervaded your days you chose to stay because Velaris was still home. It was here among the winding streets, the starlit skies, and the vibrant buzz of the Night Court that you had grown, loved, and dreamed. Leaving would mean abandoning not just the place but the fragments of yourself that still clung to the hopes and dreams you’d nurtured here. The thought of leaving Azriel, the one constant who understood your pain without needing words, whose silent strength had become your sanctuary, felt like severing the last thread of stability you possessed. In the depths of your turmoil, Velaris, with all its darkness and lights, remained a place where healing seemed possible. Where the pieces of your broken heart might someday mend.

You withdrew into yourself. Your nights consumed by reckless escapades and endless drinking. You shunned daylight, avoided responsibilities, and ignored the worried glances of your friends. Azriel, who had always been a silent sentinel in your life watched from afar. His shadowed gaze filled with concern that you were too lost in your grief to notice.

This spiral of despair drew you deeper into the depths of the Night Court where you sought oblivion in the bottom of a glass. You hoped and prayed it might wash away the ache in your soul. Your heart felt like a hollow shell, beaten, and bruised by betrayal and loss. You had to wonder if you’d ever find your way back to the light.

As the days bled into nights your world narrowed to the dim corners of taverns and the bitter burn of liquor. Training sessions were skipped, duties neglected. Each glass raised was an attempt to erase the sting of wasted years. You had given a century of your life to Lucien, woven dreams and plans tightly around a love you believed was mutual. Only to find it undone by a destiny that held no space for you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that your love had been a placeholder until his true mate appeared.

You felt like a fool, a pawn in the grand scheme of their secrets and politics. This revelation forced you into isolation. You could hardly stand to look at the people that left you in the dark. Let alone speak to them. Only Mor and Azriel became your solace. Mor who had also been kept out of the loop shared in your feelings of betrayal understanding the deep cut of being excluded by those you loved. Azriel, too, had been kept in the dark, his complicated feelings for Elain used against him to justify the secrecy. You found it cruel. A manipulation of his unspoken affections that only deepened your trust in him, knowing that he, too, had been a victim of their concealments.

Azriel watched over you with a quiet intensity. His shadows whispering of your pain in ways words never could. He knew the depth of your heartbreak having borne his own silent loves and losses. From the shadowed corners of the room, he observed your self-destructive spiral with a growing sense of desperation. There was an understanding in his eyes, a shared recognition of love unreturned that made him reach out to you despite your withdrawal.

Your interactions with Azriel became the few moments of genuine connection in your days. He didn’t push you to speak or to return to the life you’d left behind. Instead, he simply shared your space. Offering you a silent solidarity. His presence was your calm. And in his eyes you found the empathy you’d been denied by so many others. Yet, even this comfort was tinged with the bitter knowledge that it was borne from shared pain. Something created from the fragments of your broken hearts.

On one particularly rough evening, feeling the dull ache of wine coursing through your veins, you sought the familiarity of the library. It was a place that once offered solace, but now it felt like navigating an once beloved yet distant landscape.

Staggering slightly, you found yourself pushing open the heavy door of the library. The scent of old books and ink momentarily grounding you. Inside Mor was tucked into her favorite nook surrounded by a mountain of scrolls and books. Her presence immediately brought a smile to your face and without hesitation you blurted out, "Mor! My girl, let's go to Rita's." Your voice wavered with a mixture of forced cheerfulness and palpable pain betraying your already intoxicated state.

As you made this impromptu invitation you were acutely aware of Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel gathered in a solemn cluster near the grand oak table that dominated the room. Their conversation was likely heavy with undisclosed burdens. They paused abruptly as they noticed your entrance. The library usually a sanctuary of whispered lore and hushed dialogues felt oppressively silent as their eyes fixed on you.

With a deliberate effort to mask your pain with a veneer of cheerfulness you ignored Rhys and Cassian completely. Instead directing your gaze to where Azriel stood, his figure cloaked in customary shadows. "Hi, Shadowsinger!" you exclaimed. Your tone lighter than your heart felt. It was easier to pretend. To keep up the facade of resilience than to acknowledge the jagged pieces of your heart.

Mor quickly stood, catching the tail end of your forced merriment. Her eyes flickered with a mix of concern and understanding. She exchanged a look with the others. Her expression pleading for them to somehow mend the chasm that had opened between you all. But when she saw you purposefully ignoring Rhys and Cassian, her shoulders slumped in resignation. Recognizing the depth of your pain and your current incapacity for forgiveness.

She packed up her belongings. Her movements deliberate. "You're going one way or another, aren't you?" she asked you. Her voice was filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. It wasn't a question, but a statement. A knowing of the inevitable path the night would take.

"Yes. I need to not think… just for a little while," you replied. Your own smile faltering as the false cheer began to crumble under the weight of your true feelings.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance with a mix of frustration and regret marring their features. They understood that their attempts at reconciliation would be futile this evening. Azriel stood silent and observant. He met your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes. He nodded slightly. A promise that he would keep you safe even if from a distance.

Even as you grappled with your feelings of betrayal and heartache Azriel had already found it within himself to forgive Rhys and Cass for keeping the truth from both of you. His capacity for understanding their motives. Flawed as they were by their protective instincts, allowed him to see past the pain they had inadvertently caused. Azriel recognized that their actions stemmed from a deep-seated desire to shield both him and you from the inevitable pain of Lucien’s bond with Elain.

You, however, found forgiveness not so easily granted. Your feelings of betrayal were compounded by the thought that your closest friends had decided your fate without your input.  Treating you more like a fragile object to be protected rather than a person capable of facing harsh truths. While Azriel had moved towards reconciliation you remained rightfully stubborn wrestling with a wound too fresh to close

With Mor in tow, you left the library. The heavy silence settling back among the shelves after your departure. Azriel followed discreetly. A shadow among shadows. His concern a tangible cloak around him as he watched you attempt to drown your sorrows under the guise of revelry at Rita’s. The night stretched before you. It was filled with the echoes of what could have been and the sharp sting of what was now your reality.

At Rita’s the ambiance had devolved into a haze for you. Each drink an attempt to erase the sharp edges of your reality. The buzz of the crowd and the clink of glasses were a distant backdrop to the storm raging inside you. As you reached for another glass your movements were sluggish and unfocused. A stranger slipped beside you, his smile too eager, his intentions unclear. He offered you a drink with a slick insistence that made your skin crawl even through the fog of alcohol.

The moment your fingers grazed the cool surface of the glass Azriel materialized at your side. His movements were a blur. The glass knocked from your grasp and shattering against the hard floor with a resounding crash that sliced through the bar's cacophony. "Enough, Y/N," his voice cut through your stunned silence, low and laced with an urgency that tightened his features.

"Why?!" The word tore from your throat, raw and loud, fueled by the sharp bite of alcohol and a torrent of pain you no longer had the strength to contain. "Why do you care? Just let me drown it all out, Az! Let me forget!" Your words were a mix of accusation and desperation spilling out in a reckless cascade.

Pain flickered across Azriel's face His eyes darkening with concern. "It’s not safe, Y/N. That drink. That male was trying to drug you. I can't—I won't let that happen,” he insisted. His voice firm despite the chaos around you.

Rebellion surged within you, potent and bitter. "Don't do this to me, Azzy!" The nickname was usually a term of endearment but now sounded like a rebuke, heavy with your anguish. "You can't save me from this. Let me have this!"

Your attempt to pull away was futile against his strength. Azriel’s eyes scanned the crowd one last time giving more a quick nod, his decision made in the span of a heartbeat when she nodded back. With no other choice as you continued to struggle against him he wrapped his arm securely around your waist and winnowed you both away, the world dissolving into shadows. You reappeared on a deserted hillside just outside the city. The sharp, cold air was a slap against your heated skin. The stark silence a jarring contrast to the noise of Rita’s.

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Y/N. I just can’t,” Azriel implored, his voice thick with emotion as he steadied your staggering form.

"Destroy myself?!" you screamed back. The frustration and hurt boiling over. Your hands balled into fists. Your entire body tense with pent-up emotion. "My life is already destroyed, Azriel! I've lost everything. My love, my dreams, my worth! What's there left to destroy?"

In your anguish you lashed out physically, pushing against Azriel's chest with all the force of your despair. He staggered slightly but didn't push back. He of all people understood your need to vent the storm of emotions inside you.

“You haven’t lost everything,” he tried to reassure you but even he knew where your head was at. You weren’t going to listen to him.

"I have!" Your voice broke, raw and quivering with the intensity of your pain. "For a century, I loved him, Az. A century! And for what? To be discarded when his real mate shows up? What does that make me? Just a placeholder? I'm worthless, Az. If he couldn't even love me, who will?"

"No, Y/N, that's not true—" Azriel began but you cut him off again. Your hands pushing against his shoulders trying futilely to move the immovable.

"No, you don't get it!" Tears streamed down your face blurring your vision as you swung a punch. Your fist connecting weakly with his chest. He absorbed the blow with practiced ease. His expression pained more by your words than the physical contact. "Everyone has someone… Feyre has Rhys, Elain has Lucien now... and me? I'm alone. Utterly alone. Who could love someone so... so replaceable?" Your words tumbled out as a cascade of hurt and insecurity forgetting in your pain that Azriel himself had known the sting of unreciprocated feelings.

Azriel caught your wrists gently, stopping your strikes. His gaze intense, a mix of pain and resolve flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, listen to me," he implored. His tone firm yet tender. "I understand more than you know. I've felt that loneliness. That fear of being unloved and replaceable. But you, Y/N, you are not replaceable to me. You’re invaluable. You’re loved deeply by those who truly know you, even if you can't see it right now."

Your resistance faltered with tears spilling over as his words washed over you revealing his own vulnerabilities. You sagged against him, your energy spent, your sobs muffled against his chest. Azriel didn’t just offer comfort. He shared your grief, understanding it from his own unspoken heartaches.

"Because you mean everything to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. A confession laden with the weight of his own once-hidden feelings. "And I refuse to let you believe you're anything less than that." In his embrace you felt a sliver of solace pierce the veil of your despair. Perhaps you weren't as alone as you had believed. In the quiet of the night with Azriel, you dared to hope that your heart could find a way to mend.

As your sobs quieted into weary, shuddering breaths on the hillside, Azriel recognized the depth of your exhaustion and despair. With a care born of years spent navigating the shadows, he scooped you up into his arms. His strength a quiet reassurance in the enveloping darkness. You were too lost in your own misery to protest. Your body limp against his chest as he winnowed you both back to the sanctuary of his room.

Once inside Azriel carried you straight to the bathroom. The soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the walls. Setting you down with the utmost care he turned on the tap letting cool water fill the basin. With a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual stoicism, he soaked a soft cloth, wringing it out gently before turning to you.

"You're safe here, Y/N," he murmured. His voice low and soothing as he began to dab at your face. Each gentle touch wiped away streaks of makeup and tears revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. His hands were steady and careful. Moving with a respect that honored your brokenness without making you feel more fragile.

Seeing you so shattered, so utterly surrendered to your grief, stirred a protective tenderness in him. After he had cleaned your face he helped you out of your clothes and into his own. Each movement was respectful and patient. His eyes averted to give you privacy even in your despondent state. He chose a soft shirt and loose pants. Clothes that would comfort rather than constrict. When you were dressed he guided you to his bed with his arm around your waist both a support and a shield. The world seemed to quiet as he tucked you under the covers.

You lay there, a small, fragile form in the vastness of his bed with your eyes staring blankly at the shadowed ceiling. Azriel hesitated, watching you with a mix of concern and a poignant ache to ease your pain. Unable to bear the distance, he lay down beside you. His body a careful line of warmth at your side.

As you lay next to Azriel his presence enveloped you in a tenderness you hadn't fully seen before. The night around you was quiet, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind outside and your own unsteady breaths. Azriel's room was usually a place of solitude and shadows. It felt different now. Warmer, filled with a quiet strength and a palpable gentleness that radiated from him.

"Let it all out, Y/N," he whispered next to you. His voice was a soft command in the darkness, soothing and deep. His hand found yours under the blankets, his fingers intertwining with yours. You felt a sob rise again. The emotions overwhelming.

He didn't shush you or tell you to be strong. Instead, he squeezed your hand tighter. His grip a lifeline in the turmoil you felt. His presence was a vow of steadfastness. A promise not spoken but felt deeply.

Lying beside him, you realized you had never seen Azriel so openly gentle and caring. His usual reserve and cool demeanor were replaced by an earnest tenderness. It was as if the night had peeled back a layer of his persona revealing the depth of his empathy and the true extent of his kindness. This wasn't the Spy Master known to most. The one that was cold and calculating, always in the background. This was Azriel as only someone he truly cared for might see him. His kindness wasn't just an act of comfort. It was a testament to his genuine concern for you. To love you when you felt most unlovable. To be there in every low and hold you through every shadow.

"I'm not going anywhere," Azriel continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You are loved, deeply. Even when it feels like you're alone. You are important to me. More than you could possibly know."

With Azriel's words wrapping around you like a gentle embrace you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a moment, that you might one day feel whole again. His kindness, his unwavering support reminded you that even in your most broken moments you were not alone.

Azriel didn't rush you or demand that you compose yourself. Instead, he simply held your hand throughout letting the quiet solidarity of his presence anchor you back from the tempest of your grief. As the emotional exhaustion of the day's events caught up with you, your eyelids grew heavy with the weight of sleep tugging them down.

With Azriel's fingers interlaced with yours and his calm breathing next to you, a profound fatigue began to blanket your senses. It was the kind of tiredness that came from having wept thoroughly and being in the presence of someone who demanded nothing of you but to be yourself. Slowly, the room around you seemed to fade away as you drifted into sleep. The echoes of your turmoil quieting into silence under the protective watch of the Shadowsinger.

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains you stirred, slowly emerging from the restless grasp of sleep. Your body felt heavy. Each movement laden with the remnants of last night’s despair. As you shifted, trying to orient yourself, you realized you were entangled with Azriel. His arms loosely draped around you, his body a protective barrier against the chill of the morning.

Opening your eyes fully, you met his gaze—alert, intense, yet filled with a softness that was reserved only for moments like this. He had been watching you. His eyes tracing the lines of worry and sadness that had settled on your face even in sleep.

The memory of last night's breakdown. The raw pain, the tears, the desperate words, rushed back in vivid clarity. You were suddenly mortified. The intensity of your vulnerability making you feel exposed and small. You tried to pull away, intending to escape the intimacy and your own mortification. But Azriel’s arms tightened instead, gently but firmly keeping you in place. You faced him, cheeks burning, and your words stumbled out in a flustered rush.

"Az, I... I'm just so—sorry," you stammered as if the words tripping over each other. "For hitting you, and—everything. I wasn’t... I shouldn’t have..."

He was quiet for a moment. His gaze steady and understanding. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and calm, cutting through your babble of apologies with effortless precision. "No apologies," he said simply. His eyes locked on yours conveying depth beyond words. "It’s okay."

"But I lost control, and I—," you tried again. Your voice a tangled whisper of regret and embarrassment.

Azriel gently shushed you with a slight shake of his head. "You needed to let out," His tone left no room for argument. "I’m here. That’s what matters."

Your attempts to articulate the mess of emotions felt cumbersome and inadequate compared to his succinct reassurance. You swallowed hard. Your next breath shaky as you tried to reconcile the kindness in his actions with the turmoil you felt inside. The warmth of his embrace, the quiet strength in his few words, slowly coaxed the walls around your heart to lower. His acceptance was simple and unwavering. It granted you the space to be vulnerable without the burden of judgment.

"You're here," you spoke softly. A statement rather than a question. You allowed yourself to lean back against him, finding a measure of peace in the security his presence offered. In the quiet that followed his steady breathing became a reassuring rhythm in the soft light of dawn, anchoring you amidst the remnants of last night’s storm.

As you settled deeper into Azriel's embrace, comforted by the warmth of his body and the protective enclosure of his wings around you profound sense of security enveloped you. His wings isolated you from the chaos of the world and allowed the weight of your troubles to recede momentarily.

Within this intimate cocoon Azriel's hands gently soothed you, tracing calming patterns along your back and occasionally running his fingers through your hair easing away the knots of both stress and sadness. This gentle touch, combined with the protective embrace of his wings, invited a deeper relaxation and a fleeting peace.

"You're safe here," Azriel whispered. His voice a soft rumble that was both reassuring and grounding. "You will always be safe with me."

His words were simple yet deeply meaningful. They comforted you, encouraging a slow, steadying breath as each word seemed to ease a little more of your turmoil. Surrounded by his presence the room no longer felt like just a physical space but a sanctuary against all your fears and uncertainties.

As Azriel offered a rare comfort his mind was awash with thoughts and feelings for you. He had always admired your strength, your grace, and the kindness that seemed to illuminate your every action. Even when you were with Lucien he had noticed how your presence could soften the hardest of hearts and brighten the darkest corners. His feelings had been kept hidden. A secret shadowed beneath his stoic exterior as you had seemed unreachably intertwined with someone else.

Azriel's interest in Elain initially served as a safe distraction from confronting the deeper, more intense feelings he had for you. Now with the situation having changed and the possibility of being more than just friends emerging. He realized that his feelings for Elain had been a way to guard his heart against the more daunting prospect of a deeper connection with you. Recognizing this, Azriel was determined to be patient. He understood the importance of timing and your need to heal. He knew that any possibility of exploring something deeper with you would require careful consideration and respect for your emotional state. Thus, he was prepared to wait. He would offer his support and presence as you navigated your path to recovery, hoping that when you were ready, he might have a chance to express his true feelings.

In this quiet moment as dawn's light began to seep through the curtains, Azriel made a promise to himself for you. He would be there for you not just as a protector or a friend, but as someone who loved you deeply. Even if that love must remain unspoken for now. He would help you heal, support you in finding yourself again, and offer his love silently, unwaveringly, during the times you found it hardest to love yourself.

"Whatever comes next, I'm here. We'll face it together," he murmured. His voice a soft echo in the quiet room. This promise was not just a commitment to support you through your healing but a silent acknowledgment of his hopes for the future. A future where, when you were ready, he might share his heart openly with you. For now, though Azriel would be your steadfast shadow, a silent guard to you with a love profound yet patient. Waiting for the moment when your heart could welcome the depth of his.

As the morning stretched lazily into afternoon, the quietude of Azriel's room was punctuated only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of you resting against him. The previous turmoil had ebbed away leaving a calm that hadn't been felt in a long while. In this peaceful interlude you slipped back into a deep, restorative sleep, cradled by the warmth of Azriel and the secure embrace of his wings.

While you slept Azriel carefully extricated himself to prepare a simple yet thoughtful meal. He moved quietly, his shadows flitting about, almost as if they were checking on you. Ensuring that your slumber was undisturbed. He returned with a plate bearing a light lunch.

As the soft light of the afternoon filtered through the curtains you slowly awoke from the deep, restful sleep. You had been vaguely aware, even in slumber, of their comforting presence. Something that went beyond Azriel's physical proximity. It was his shadows, those silent watchers that typically hovered at the fringes, manifesting his will, and echoing his moods.

These shadows which normally adhered to Azriel’s strict commands with unwavering discipline, had over time, subtly changed their behavior around you. It started with small gestures—shifting slightly to cloak you in warmth when a cool draft swept through the room, or playfully fluttering around when your spirits were low, trying to elicit a smile. Gradually they had begun to act almost independently when it came to you. They were drawn to your innate warmth and light. The same qualities that Azriel himself cherished deeply in you.

As you stirred awake, stretching and yawning, the shadows seemed to mimic the morning’s embrace. Azriel watched from beside you with a slight smile playing on his lips as his shadows caressed your arms and legs. They were reluctant to withdraw their gentle touch even as you became more alert. He made a subtle gesture, a silent command for them to give you some space, expecting immediate compliance as always.

To his surprise and slight amusement, the shadows hesitated. They lingered around you. Their formless caresses a tender contradiction to their usual stark obedience. When you noticed their reluctance to leave you couldn’t help but to giggle. The shadows seemed to flutter with a visible delight, moving closer as if encouraged by your laughter.

"It’s okay, Az," you said. Smiling at the unusual scene. "I don't mind them, really. I actually quite like them."

At your words the shadows almost appeared to swoon, swirling around you with what could only be described as affectionate enthusiasm. Azriel watched this with a raised eyebrow and an ever-widening smile, clearly amused by their outright defiance when it came to you.

"They're not usually this defiant... or affectionate," Azriel remarked. His voice tinged with both bemusement and a hint of pride. "Seems they've taken quite a liking to you."

You watched the shadows swirl around with a playful grace. Their cool touch leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Smiling, you responded, "The feeling's mutual." At your words, one of the shadows playfully swooped up mimicking a kiss on your cheek.

The whimsical gesture drew another giggle from you, a sound so light and joyful that it seemed to brighten the entire room. Azriel watched you with a deep warmth filling his heart as your laughter echoed softly. The sound so rarely heard in your despair was so full of life and free from the burdens you had been carrying, It was a melody he hadn't realized he'd been longing to hear. It reminded him of the resilience and beauty within you, qualities he had always admired now shimmering through even in your laughter.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he watched you interact with his shadows. The corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine delight. It was rare for him to see his shadows disobey but in this instance he found the situation endearing rather than concerning. The shadows, so attuned to his deepest feelings perhaps recognized the special place you held in his heart and chose to express their fondness in the only way they knew how.

As you continued to enjoy the playful affection from the shadows, Azriel leaned back, content to observe the bond forming between you and parts of his own essence. This moment, light-hearted and filled with laughter marked a significant turn in your relationship. It showed not only his own deepening feelings but also the unique acceptance of his shadows, making you a cherished presence in both his world and theirs.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Request Taglist: @thatacotargirl @impossibelle

[ghoulsbounty]

hi i heavily request something where the reader and the ghoul(cooper) are travelling together and it’s night time, they’re outside trying to get some sleep. the reader is sleeping beside cooper but they get cold and they subconsciously move towards him and grab him, laying on his chest. HOW WOULD HE REACT? 🫶

Until Tomorrow

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Bounty!Reader 

Warnings: sliiiiight mentions of smut (18+), alluding to masturbation, a bit of angst, mentions of canon-typical violence/torture, control, small mention of barb if you squint, mention of sex work (not reader), Cooper is mean.

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This is just a little ficlet that I've left open ended in case anyone would like a part two. I didn't want to go full-guns blazing into a smut fic since you didn't specify, but I am more than willing to do so, Anon 🫡 I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉Read part two HERE👈

"What are you up to?" the Ghoul's voice pierced the eerie night, sharp and accusing. The darkness shrouded the makeshift camp, the bitter wind cutting through with relentless force. His eyes narrowed as he watched you approach, tension thick between you.

You dropped to your knees, wrists sore from the tight bindings he had reluctantly removed. The sand greeted you with a thud as you settled beside him, maintaining a cautious distance. You needed warmth, but you couldn't get complacent with your captor.

"It's freezing," you stated matter-of-factly, shifting against the sand to carve out a somewhat comfortable spot, however impossible. "You let the fire die."

The Ghoul glanced towards the extinguished campfire, a thin wisp of smoke rising lazily into the frigid night sky. The remnants of charred wood and ash lay scattered around it, the faint scent clinging to his clothes as he reclined against the dunes.

"I can start it up again," he offered, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "If you fancy being deathclaw chow."

Your gaze widened as you glanced into the expanding darkness, the absence of the fire amplifying the encroaching shadows. Terrifying howls and snarls reverberated from the depths, prompting a chilling question: were the creatures lurking out there truly more fearsome than the man holding you captive? The notion of a swift demise by claws and teeth seemed almost preferable to the prolonged torment of captivity. While the Ghoul might not be the one to end your life, delivering you to the cartel as he had pledged would render him just as culpable. In that sense, he might as well be the one to pull the trigger himself.

After your first escape attempt, the Ghoul's demeanour turned even harsher, though the dehydration was a greater torture than any physical aggression. He justified his restraint, explaining that he refrained from inflicting worse harm only because you were required in perfect condition, and he took pride in fulfilling his bounties meticulously. However, his rationale did little to mitigate his rough treatment. To him, a few small bruises and the sting of restraints were acceptable, especially considering your spirited defiance.

But in the span of a few weeks, that defiance began to wane, and resignation crept in. You felt like a sacrificial lamb, resigned to its fate, being led to the inevitable slaughter.

"I'll take that as a no," he remarked, snapping you out of your reverie as he shifted beside you. Even he seemed affected by the cold, evident from how he huddled in his duster, arms crossed tightly over his chest in an attempt to retain warmth. You couldn't help but envy his layers, wishing for more of your own as you wrapped you arms around your torso. 

You maintained silence, willing yourself to sleep as you turned away from him. Any further interaction felt uncomfortably intimate.

Cooper listened to the sound of your ragged breaths battling against the cold, your body trembling beside him. The wind was particularly brutal, the kind he would normally seek refuge from in an abandoned building. However, your sluggish pace throughout the day had resulted in him setting up camp in the exposed wasteland, devoid of shelter or respite from the elements. Your punishment, he had said, for dragging your feet.

He could endure it; he had endured it countless times before and would do so again. But for you, he wasn't so sure. Despite your initial bite, you had turned into a meek little thing in the palm of his hand. A small, niggling part of him wondered if he had been too harsh, but survival instincts dictated otherwise. When an animal showed its teeth, you put it down—figuratively speaking, of course, he couldn't risk losing his bounty caps. 

This new approach seemed to have worked with you, perhaps a bit too well.

As you shifted beside him, turning to face him with closed eyes, Cooper felt like prey ensnared in the hunter's grasp, awaiting the next move. An uneasy panic gripped him at the sudden feeling of helplessness, but he willed his breath to steady. You released a deep sigh as you pressed your body against his side, and he stiffened at the unexpected closeness. Your arm draped across his abdomen, and a leg hitched and hooked around his thigh.

Cooper was nearly ready to question your apparent lack of brains when he noticed your breathing, deep and steady. His words died in his throat as he felt your arm tighten around him, drawing him closer to you like an anchor. It wasn't a conscious decision to seek him out; rather, a subconscious response to the biting cold, he reasoned. Yet, it did little to ease his discomfort as the warmth from your thighs spread over him, seeping into his core and igniting a sensation he hadn't yet entertained with you.

He found himself mesmerized, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, his gaze drifting to your parted lips as you released another sigh. Your nose pressed against his shoulder, and he could swear he felt the warmth of your breath through the layers of fabric, igniting the burnt skin beneath.

This wasn't real, not to you, and certainly not to him. By morning, he would carefully remove himself from your embrace, restoring the intended distance your unconscious mind had breached. You would remain oblivious, and only Cooper would bear the weight of knowing how his muscles longed to reach out to you, to touch you without the shadows of anger and conflict looming over them. He cursed the memory from a distant life that surfaced in his mind—a loving touch beneath soft sheets, a foolish adoration for a lover turned stranger.

His fingers twitched, restrained by the firm crossing of his arms over his chest. If he could just maintain this position, he could endure the night. If he could ignore the sensation of your leg tightening around his thigh, your knee brushing against his growing arousal, he could make it through. He chastised himself inwardly for his weakness. He should push you away, keep you bound and isolated from him, be indifferent to whatever dangers might befall you because it would have been your own fault. But Cooper needed those caps. If he could just survive the remainder of this journey with you and keep his sanity intact, he promised himself a visit to the next inn, where he could seek solace in the comforting touch of those who were more than willing to accept a ghoul's money.

Still, he didn't expect anything to compare to the softness of your breasts pressed against his side. Something snapped within him at the sensation, a jolt of electricity coursing through his body. The wild thought crossed his mind that perhaps you were warming to him, not just seeking warmth for yourself. He had broken you, after all, hadn't he? Or at least, he was on his way to doing so. He couldn't help but wonder: if he woke you, would you pull away or press yourself closer?

A foolish thought, but one that haunted him nonetheless.

He lay in silence, listening to the rhythm of your breath as he stared up at the stars. Waking you wasn't an option; he wouldn't risk the inevitable panic and distress of you finding yourself half-straddling the monster who had stolen your freedom. He would let you sleep, indulging in the fantasy that you felt something other than contempt for him as he waited for the sun to rise. Until then, he justified to himself as his hand slipped from its restraint under his arm and found the buckle of his belt, it would be a shame for a solitary man not to indulge.

[rainydaymiscellaneous]

Until the End, My Love (Astarion x Reader)

Warning: this literally might be the saddest piece of fiction I’ve written and it includes death and grief.

The battle of Ketheric would change everyone’s life. You had given so much for this group of misfits. Loved them all deeply as a dysfunctional family. But Astarion.

Gods you loved that man to the stars and back. You knew the day before, what was going to happen. You sat on your favorite spot near the lake as Withers approached.

“Withers. I know you cannot tell me my death. But can you answer if I’ll die tomorrow?” You asked the creature. Withers hadn’t seen much good in humanity. However he saw the good in you. How pure and unconditional your love was.

“I cannot speak of death.” He said.

You looked at the creature. You could see it in his eyes. “Then do what humans do. Answer without words.” You said softly. He paused, knowing this wouldn’t make a difference.

He nodded yes to your question. You seemed strangely at peace with his answer. “Does anyone else?” You asked.

“Only the one you target.” He admitted.

You nodded. Your life and Ketheric would be taken. You got up, thanking Withers for his honesty and sat at a desk in the ruined home at camp and began writing. To everyone. One for Gale, one for Astarion, one for Wyll, one for Karlach, one for Lae’zel, one for Shadowheart, one for Halsin, and even one for Jaheira.

Astarion walked over as you slid the letters in the desk. “Writing?” He asked. You nodded. “We’re doing this. Aren’t we?” He asked.

“Yes..” You said.

“Well whatever happens, I’m by your side my love. Until the end,” he said. You wanted to tell him that the end would be sooner than he thought. But to break his heart like that would be too cruel, especially since the wound of Cazador’s intent behind his scars was too fresh.

“Astarion?” You asked softly.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you fear death?” You asked.

Such an odd question that you asked so sincerely.

“Uhm. Well, no. I know what death is like. When you turn into a vampire, you’re dead. It’s like a warm blanket. Of course when you become a vampire though, you do feel like the warm blanket is suddenly yanked off of you.” He explained.

“So it’s comforting to you?” You asked.

“In a way, I guess.” He shrugged. “Why? Have another philosophical conversation with Withers?” He joked. You let out a small smile but it seemed like you weren’t there all the way.

“In a way.” Was the small answer given to him.

“Why are you worried about that, don’t you regenerate?” He asked. You nodded.

“I mean, I do. But it takes years.” You said. Astarion kissed your forehead.

“Gods forbid something happens to you, I’d wait a million if it meant I’d see you again.” He said softly.

You hugged him close to you that night, listening to his murmuring in his sleep. The next morning before everyone was up, you put the letters into everyone’s bags carefully.

Swords clashed, body after body fell until everyone stood in the area just before Ketheric. Everyone seemed so tired so you offered a brief rest. The black shadows of the land felt so heavy as you looked around at your companions. You pulled Wyll aside, asking for your final favor.

“When it seems like everything is about to crash down, take Astarion and run.” You told your friend. He looked confused.

“What about you?” He asked.

“I will be fine.” You said. He frowned feeling as if he hadn’t been told everything. “Y/n-“

“Please. Promise me.” You begged. Wyll could tell this was important.

So he simply nodded and whispered “okay. Okay I promise.” you hugged him. It felt more than a friend hug. More like a “something bad is about to happen and I am scared” hug. So he hugged back.

As the battle raged and the illithid colony was revealed you kept Wyll uneasy. You trekked deep into the depths of the colony, freeing people of their pods and allowing them to escape.

“One last act of kindness.” You thought. “One more before death.”

As the skeleton of death looked you in the eyes, you drew your sword. You felt the chill of death and gave Wyll that look. Instantly he understood everything. You knew this was the end. He shook as he yanked Astarion back, grabbing Karlach’s arm.

They thrashed, Karlach not understanding until she saw the tears on your face and a mouthing of “Thank you” to Wyll. Astarion dropped his blades screaming for Wyll to stop.

“What the fuck soldier!?” Karlach yelled. Then she saw you. The power they’d knew would be lethal. He dragged them through the strange fleshy door and shoved them through it, landing next to them. You seemed so adamant about making sure it stayed open before you entered. Now Wyll knew why.

“What the hell are you doing Y/N IS STILL IN THERE!” Astarion yelled.

“I promised her.” Wyll said with a defeated expression. Astarion looked at the man upset and then as the door as he constantly smacked it, trying to get it to open.

Halsin, Jaheira and Gale came running over. “What’s going on?” Gale asked.

“It’s Y/n- she’s fucking in there with Ketheric!” Astarion said.

“What!? Why are you all out here?!” Jaheira asked.

“We were in there and Wyll dragged us out!” Karlach said.

“Why the hells would you do that?!” Gale asked. Wyll looked at him with the most mentally exhausted look he had ever seen.

“She made me promise.” Wyll said, his lips trembling as he spoke. Halsin looked at the door with a solemn expression.

“She is going to use her power.” Halsin said. Everyone knew that your powers bordered the strength of Gale’s when unleashed. They had seen only a fraction of it when they unleashed hell on the goblin camp. You went comatose for days, nearly dying if it weren’t for Halsin.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart and a few Harpers came down.

“Where’s Y/n?” Shadowheart asked.

“In there with Ketheric.” Gale breathed out.

“Gods damn this bloody door!” Astarion screamed, punching it repeatedly.

A loud bang emitted, the earth shaking under everyone’s feet as they felt the aftershocks of what you done. The door finally opened, everyone sprinting inside. Aylin stood bloodied over you, her hands shaking.

“She-she freed me right before-“ was all she could get out. You laid on the ground, your eyes glazed over as Astarion sprinted over, holding you.

“No. No- no- Don’t do this to me- don’t you dare do this-“ he said shaking you. Not a stir. Not a response.

Time felt frozen. Still in itself as Astarion shook you. He let out a haunting screaming sob, clutching you close to his body as Wyll dropped to his knees.

If he had just ignored you, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe you’d be savoring the taste of victory with your friends.

Shadowheart couldn’t stop thinking about your respect. Granted you followed Selûne, you always admired Shadowheart for being so devout to Shar. You even went as far as to stop and make camp once you realized you unintentionally stumbled into the Gauntlet of Shar so Shadowheart could see it herself.

Lae’zel thought back to your kindness to her. The unwavering kindness she experienced when you didn’t judge her for being Githyanki. You made her this ridiculous friendship bracelet that she hated to her very core. Yet still kept it wrapped around the hilt of her blade.

Wyll’s mind kept replaying on repeat the lengths you went through just to keep him safe. Not once did you judge him for making a deal with a devil. Not once did you call him a foolish child for making that choice.

Gale kept reminding himself how much you loved to learn. The ticking time bombs, you called yourself and Gale when referring to the magic you both held. You always kept your curiosity and your wit about you, making you adored like a little sister to him.

Karlach. Gods. The pain she was feeling was unfathomable. The way you went to great and dangerous lengths to fix her engine without hesitation. The friendship, the best friend she had made from drinking together late into the night, the best friend she made from joking on the road together, the woman she loved like family was on the ground.

Jaheira hadn’t known you long. But from the look on everyone’s faces she could tell your death was like a meteor hitting earth, causing the worst catastrophic damage she had seen. She remembered the loyalty. The way you didn’t hesitate downing that stupid wine she dosed with the truth telling herb once you found out what it was, just so she’d trust you.

Halsin kept thinking if he had just found a way to block those fucking powers, maybe just maybe you’d still be standing. He was never one for anger, never one to waste emotion in such a way. And yet he felt it. Towards Ketheric who was dead across from you. And towards himself, for not blocking your power when he had the chance.

But Astarion. Gods. Astarion.

He had suffered so much. He couldn’t remember spaces of his life due to his long life. But he remembered every moment with you. The moment he held a blade to your neck and you didn’t even flinch, to the moment he admitted that he loved you more than life itself, he remembered it all.

This should’ve been a victory. This should have been everyone screaming and laughing about how they beat the immortal idiot Ketheric into the ground. Instead heads were bowed, tears were falling and his throat was hoarse from screaming.

“You stupid stubborn girl” he kept thinking. “Come back to me my stupid idiot. Come back.”

As they dragged your body through the portal, Isobel rushed over with a smile that quickly faltered when she saw the body in her arms. A hand flew to her mouth and Zelvor’s eyes went wide. Your final act of kindness was letting him live after being captured. After the selfish sacrifice he made.

Everyone stood at camp, Isobel stepping forward as she read pages from a hymn of Selûne. Halsin laid you in a canoe, your sword in your arms as the tiefling children laid flowers next to you. Not one eye had no tears that day. Astarion pressed one last kiss to your cold skin.

They pushed the canoe off the shore, firing an arrow of flame. The canoe slowly lit, the smoke hanging over the shadowy lake. Astarion seemed so numb now. So tired. So done with it all. He wanted to be in the canoe with you, going into eternal rest by your side.

Lae’zel drew her blade, raising it in respect. Wyll followed, along with Karlach. The mages and clerics took knees, Astarion kneeling where the canoe left shore with his head bowed. Everyone was quiet, even Aylin the daughter of Selûne, the goddess of light had nothing to say.

Then… the sunlight came.

It emerged over the mountains slowly, almost going unnoticed until Gale felt the heat of a summer’s day on his skin and opened his eyes. He dropped his staff, shocked as he looked up. The sound of his staff made others look up seeing the sunrise.

“She brought us light.” Aylin whispered in shock. Astarion looked up at the sun, closing his eyes as tears flooded down his cheeks.

Everyone gathered around camp, sitting at their packs and it was so quiet. Silence was once desired by many of them because of the annoying chatter and laughter late into the night. But this was something they craved more than anything.

“Guys!” Karlach said. Everyone looked at her as she held up an envelope. “Y/n wrote a letter!” She said. Astarion was confused as Wyll looked at his pack.

“I’ve got one too.” He realized.

“So do I!” Shadowheart gasped.

Everyone dug around their packs before reading each of their own. As each one finished, they moved closer to one another, hugging their friends.

Astarion sat still reading his quietly in his tent.

“Astarion, my love

I know you hate cliches but I will say, the ‘if you’re reading this, I’m dead trope’ is rather interesting.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes but continued.

“I love you so much my love. You mean everything to me. It’s funny really. How I spent most of my life focused on other things I didn’t even realize when I fell in love.

I enjoyed our late night talks of poetry (though even as your lover I will say some of your opinions are pretentious)” again, he scoffed. “I enjoyed your banter, I enjoyed being held by you. Even in these wretched shadows, I found safety in your arms.

Take care of Scratch for me. I know you might not like him but he’s a good boy. And make sure he has playdates with Wallace, he sees Scratch as his big brother.

I don’t want you to fret over this. I’m not gone forever. Just for now. I promise in my next life, I will find you. I love you so much, I would walk to the edges of the earth to find your love once again.

Until the end, my love.

-Y/n.”

All of the companions stood together at the campfire, pouring one out for their fallen friend. Even as the battle of the Absolute came, everyone had justice on their minds for the one they lost.

It was expected for everyone to go their separate ways, especially after the whole tadpole conundrum was finally solved. Instead, all of them stuck together. Even Halsin, who craved nature stayed. Astarion didn’t Ascend, instead, with the help of his friends they killed Cazador and freed his brothers and sisters.

They moved only in the night now, seeing as the tadpole was the only thing granting him the ability to walk in the sun. Truth be told, he couldn’t see the sun anymore without being reminded of his love.

Years passed, everyone sat in a tavern, discussing the next bounty on their list to cross off. They were all talking when suddenly and without warning, Astarion stood up, knocking over a mug of ale.

“Aye! Watch it-“

Wyll’s gaze followed Astarion’s and he stood up as well. Everyone followed their gaze to the woman who seemed almost ethereal in beauty as she smiled.

“Miss me?”

[halfratsalready]

The Unhinged Jack x Wanderlust Conspiracy Board Explained

A few days ago I posted this silly conspiracy board I made for a slideshow night with my friends where I talked about how Ubisoft loves to deny Jack x Wanderlust and everyone seemed to like it so here’s an in-depth (and I mean in-depth) explanation of everything on it.

We start, of course, with Si’ha Nova and the Traveler, and Wanderlust wearing his dad’s cape at the beginning of Canned Heat because it’s super cute.

And you can’t talk about this ship without the moment from Majesty that perfectly mirrors the moment from Save Your Tears because genuinely why would they do this if they didn’t want people to ship these two? (Rainbow flag added for ✨flavor✨)

I also thought it was worth mentioning that the only time we ever actually hear any of these characters speak across all 14 lore playlist maps is literally Wanderlust calling out Jack’s name.

And now it’s time for the part that I like to call Ubisoft’s crusade against a monster of their own creation (because look at those last two points and tell me they didn’t do this to themselves. You can’t.)

Now in making this I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Ubisoft isn’t being as harsh on the ship as we’ve been thinking, because “they’re such good friends” and “best friends” with a thumbs up automatically reads as very sarcastic and joking to me, like all the memes about “historians will say they were close friends.”

Then there’s the infamous in’s and out’s New Years post, but what I hadn’t picked up on until I saw this screenshot from Twitter is that the inclusion of “normalize being evil” on the in’s list is rather suspicious and that, according to Just Dance, “this was posted by Night Swan’s army.” So I feel like that’s worth mentioning, because it casts a different light on all the other things on the lists. As in including Jack Rose in the in’s list since he’s the only one she didn’t corrupt yet and she wants to do that this year? And putting stanning Jacklust on the out’s because she’s evil and doesn’t want us to have nice things? Not too sure but hey, if someone better at analyzing things wants to look into that, I’d be down to read it.

(I also think it’s worth mentioning that “worrying about getting a Megastar” is included in the out’s list when the tweet just before that one is encouraging players to get Megastar on Zero to Hero, so some more contradictions there, but that might not mean anything, given that Night Swan’s whole thing is perfection and I feel like she would definitely be in favor of worrying over getting Megastar.)

Plus there’s the pretty popular belief that they’re just pointing out how stupid of a ship name Jacklust is, but I’m personally not at all sold on this being the reason, even if Jacklust is a stupid ship name. (I told my friends the ship name during this presentation and one of them said “Really? Wanderrose was right there.”)

Lastly, I threw Night Swan in there because of the theory that Ubisoft is denying Jack x Wanderlust because the Traveler is Jack’s father. Now, I have opinions about this theory and I hope it’s not true for obvious reasons, but I feel like if it is, it’s a serious oversight on Ubisoft’s part.

Firstly, if they’re half siblings why did they recreate the move from Save Your Tears in Majesty? Seems odd to have half siblings recreate a pretty iconic romantic duet moment.

There’s also the fact that we can clearly see that Wanderlust takes physical traits from each of his parents - his mother’s blue skin and his father’s dark hair. If the Traveler is Jack’s dad, why don’t they share any physical characteristics? At the very end of the beta for Sweet Dreams (spoiler?) we see Night Swan with green eyes, unlike the yellow eyes she has in the rest of the dances we see her in. (While this could just be an older design choice, I personally interpreted this as meaning that her eyes were green before she went evil and then they turned yellow.) In all of his character artwork, Jack’s eyes are green, which I take as meaning that this is a trait he got from his mother. So I personally feel like it only makes sense for his father to have red hair (and we’ve got plenty of options to pick from with that criteria).

But hey, that’s just a theory… I don’t need to finish that part, you’re already thinking it. Thanks for reading my insane ramblings!

[mkeyztrm]

K.

- cigarettes after sex

“ and I’m kissing you, lying in my room. holding you until you fall asleep, and it’s just as good as I knew it would be. Stay with me, I don’t want you to leave. ”

Warnings(?): Toxic parents, 🍃 (barely)

nick sturniolo x m!reader(?)

I’ve never really written something like this before, so please keep that in mind 😭

Idk if this would be considered an m!reader thingy, but the character in first person is a male! I hope that makes sense 😞

——————————————————————————

All it took was the contact we made between our eyes, which ironically enough are also polar opposites.

Outside of my apartment complex stands a statue probably about a billion years old, it’s completely abandoned but it works as a perfect escape for when the world comes crashing down. I go there nearly every day, it’s really the only physical place I can go when shit gets rough at home. I can’t help but feel trapped in my own house whenever my parents have their little arguments, it’s like they forget they even have a kid. Today they started arguing because the dishes weren’t done, and somehow that just set off all of the missles in my mother’s heart, she snapped. So that’s why I’ve decided to go to the statue today, it’s my safe space when I don’t have one.

The area around me is swollen with plants, dark green vines wrapped around the chipped stone i sit on. As I’m walking down and pass the grassy corner I come to a sudden stop when I hear familiar footsteps around my spot. I slowly step forward and peek around to see a beautiful boy, around my age. His pretty brown hair is emphasized by the sunlight, and his heartstopping eyes are as well. I recognize him as the boy who lives down the hall, I’ve seen him a few times when I’ve had to leave the house. We’ve never spoke other than a simple “hey” or “hi”

“Hello? Hi sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

I quickly apologized before turning around. As I take my first step forward I hear his soothing voice.

“No, no you’re okay. I’m just taking pictures of the area. Do you want to join me?”

“If that wouldn’t be an issue, then yeah. I just need to get out of the house for a minute, you know?”

He watches me as I sit down, then he sits down next to me while he lowers his camera to his side. I can tell he’s as awkward as me, he’s just better at hiding it than I am.

“My name’s Nick, Nick sturniolo. What’s yours?”

“Oh, uh. My name is Jakson. Spelt J-A-K. You can just call me Jak though if you’d prefer.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jak.”

“Nice to meet you too, Nick”

with a smile across my face i look over to my right jacket pocket and pull out a lighter. I looked at him and gestured towards it, offering him a hit. He nods his head and says “Sure, why not. I’m not doing anything later anyway.” I hand him my lighter, then I hand him a joint that I pulled out of my pocket along with the lighter.

“But I could tell that something had changed how you looked at me then.”

Minutes turn into hours, hours turn into four more. Throughout our sesh we shared our reasoning for hanging out here so often. His surprised me, I didn’t expect him to be a triplet, let alone the oldest. He explained to me in full depth that he comes out here whenever his brothers get to be too obnoxious, or whenever he doesn’t want to participate in one of their stupid joke arguments. He told me that he loves them very much, he just needs some time for him self as well. I didn’t know somebody could understand me that well.

“And I’m taking pictures of you with flowers on the wall.”

As time goes by, my head ends up on his thighs. My head resting on him while we watch the stars together. He let out a soft giggle whenever I’d point out a constellation or a shooting star, and for some reason that made both myself and my heart happy. Being with him made my heart skip a beat everytime he spoke. I never knew it was possible to become so close to someone in only a day. I looked back up at him, and he looked down at me. He let out a smile, so I did too.

God, my heart was racing so fast. You guys just met, and you’re already each other’s only friend. Is it shameful to have these thoughts about some boy you’ve only seen in a hallway before this? Before I could continue thinking, he placed his hand on my head and gently stroked my head with that grin on his face. He kept eye contact with me, and put his other hand on my head as well.

I think I’ve finally fallen for somebody.

“Think I like you best when you’re just with me, and no one else.”

After a long while the sun starts to come up, but I’m still rested on his lap. He looked down at me, I looked back up at him.

nick holds my face tight and gently presses his soft lips against mine, leaving me no time to react. Not that I needed to react, he’s so heavenly. He grabs my hand and stands up so I stood up with him. I can tell he wants to say something, but his face shows his thoughts are jumbled.

“Could I get your number? I think we should come out here again and hangout. Next time I’ll bring a blanket and snacks if we’re out here for that long again.”

“Oh definitely. My number is (xxx)xxx-xxxx. Feel free to text me anytime you want, boy. I’ll always be available for you.”

we walked up to the apartment building together, he made sure I got home safe. Before i walked inside of my house I made sure to smile and wave. I waited until he had walked away to shut the door.

I made my way back to my bedroom and passed out asleep the moment I hit my mattresses. I love this boy.

——————————————————————————

HIII thanks for reading 🫶

I’m so sorry if this is bad, I really only write poems and I’m dyslexic as hell. I just wanted to write something for the first time and see how it went.

Please do not criticize this in the replies, I’m overly sensitive and will take it to heart 😭. /gen

————

@inlovewithmattstur lord how do you write so fast.

[spacerockfloater]

Hi spacerockfloater!

I've been scrolling through your posts, and I must say, you have done a phenomenal job debating Team Black and Alicent Antis! I think I must have liked almost every one of your Team Green posts. I love the way you are critical of both sides and your in-depth analysis of various scenes throughout the show.

My question is how do you feel about Alicole in season 2 after watching the first episode? I was disappointed that there was no buildup to their sex scene or their relationship as a whole. I was satisfied with their courtly love last season, but extremely disappointed after watching S2.

I've recently started posting pro alicent/pro alicole discussions myself, though before, I was just reblogging them. Team Black stans claim that they don't have any problem with Alicent shagging Cole, (loll). What they don't like is her mocking Rhaenyra for doing the same with Harwin, and I feel like some TG stans are agreeing with that take.

How do you feel about Alicent being called a hypocrite for doing the same thing she called out Rhaenyra for? And how do you refute Team Black when they bring this up?

(Basically, this is me trying get some debate lessons from you lmao)

Forgive me for making this post so long! I hope it isn't a hassle!! :)))

You are literally the sweetest, I beam every time I get a notification from you! Thank you so much for enjoying the content of my blog! It’s no hassle at all, I’d love to explain my views on Alicole. Please remember that this is solely my own interpretation and I hope that it helps you develop your own opinion on their relationship regardless of whether you agree or disagree with me! I hope my post helps you win in the debates to come dearest!

To begin with, I’ve posted a lot of rants about Alicole like this, this, this and this, with this being my best analysis on them. Generally, I’ve spoken a lot about them recently but I’ll try to summarise my thoughts in one post as best as I can.

Okay so, Alicole is my favourite ship in HOTD. Their chemistry when they have conversations together is unmatched. Not only that, but individually, they are both amazing characters in their own right and they share a lot of parallels. They are both victims of the Targaryen dynasty and they both did what their abusers expected them to do, only to end up hated and rejected regardless. What I liked about them together is how soft yet driven and unwavering they were. Despite being wronged, they patiently endured it because they had faith in themselves and trusted that justice would be served. They weren’t desperate. There was a calm yet strong power within them. I loved the way their connection blossomed during the first season. Watching Alicent pull Criston up while they were both at the lowest point of their lives (Alicent’s father leaving, meaning she was completely alone at court and Criston having broken his oath for nothing, while his secret was out and threatened his life) and him responding to her call and rising to stand besides her, was the pinnacle of romance for me. The understanding Alicent shows Criston and the fierce loyalty Criston has for Alicent makes them such a power couple.

In season one, I loved their glances towards one another, their conversations, their agreement on several subjects. I loved that Criston was the first person Alicent called to when she was wronged on Driftmark, because she knew he would do right by her. And I loved that Criston, despite his devotion to Alicent, still felt that he had enough authority to not obey a wish of hers that he thought unfair, but immediately launched forward when she and Nyra got into a fight, taking three other guards to hold him back. Like you, I, too, was a fan of their courtly love and the subtle romance that was building up between them. In the end, they both have sexual and religious trauma, and they deserve to overcome it and live for themselves.

That being said, I think their relationship was treated awfully in the second season. Alicole becoming canon was used as a weapon to enhance the negative feelings the majority of the audience harboured for them, not as a way to explore their personalities further. All the emotional aspect of their relationship has been scrapped off and what’s left behind is that twisted, carnal side of it. Not gonna lie, I used to love watching their scenes together but now I am filled with dread every time they’re on screen because “Oh God, what if it is another sex scene?”. At this point, we have more Alicole sex scenes than we have of Daemyra and they’re purposely doing that to make us dislike them.

The whole reason that I found Alicent and Criston’s relationship so intriguing is because it was a deeper, state-of-mind type of relationship that was based on their common beliefs and experiences, which was a stark contrast to Daemon and Rhaenyra’s catastrophic passion.

And it just doesn’t make sense for a woman whose every sexual experience in her life so far has been rape to run to another man’s arms so suddenly in our eyes. You’re telling me that this girl who was tortured with her own body by not one, but two men, is suddenly all in for casual and hateful sex? I mean, ok I guess, we all react differently to trauma and maybe I’m misinterpreting Alicent’s character and projecting my own ideas on her, but then again I don’t think so. I am much more inclined to believe that this was done on purpose to please the Blacks’ fans. I mean, don’t we remember when Tyrion calls himself a fool for not clocking that a woman who was just sexually assaulted would not jump into his bed immediately after? What happened to that? I get that a woman that hasn’t had intercourse in years, considering Viserys’s health issues and all that, being in need of intimacy but they made it happen too fast.

I would have liked seeing them slowly fall for one another, them touching hands secretly, soft hugs, Alicent’s head on Criston’s chest. I would have liked seeing them ponder on the uncertainty that’s looming over them because “What’s going to happen now? What does the future hold for us?”. But then again, I understand that Condal’s intention is for us to hate them, not to make us like them more, because God forbid someone who’s not up Rhaenyra’s ass is likeable. Overall, I think Ryan generally enjoys using the Greens’s desires to ridicule them. The Alicole sex scenes, Aemond visiting the brothel, the mention of Aegon’s and Helaena’s married life, it all serves as a means to diminish them and embarrass them. Even the way the Alicole sex scenes are filmed, the angle of the camera, the positions, their content, is all just used to make us laugh at them, not to find them sexy, unlike Daemyra’s scenes.

So to summarise my thoughts on them, I am a big fan of Alicole the way they were portrayed in S1, but I do not like the way things escalated between them in S2 in the slightest so far (and that’s probably what Condal wanted anyways). I needed to see more of their romance building up before it turned physical.

Now, when it comes to Team Black calling them hypocrites, at this point I just roll my eyes at them because there’s no reason to argue with a fool. Alicent would have been a hypocrite if she hated Rhaenyra for having sex out of wedlock, but that’s not why she was pissed at her. She criticised her because she was seen in a pleasure house losing her virginity to her own uncle, which is indecent behaviour to say the least and could damage her reputation and her claim to the throne, not to say that it was a big “Fuck you” to Alicent’s face who had toiled hard to get Nyra the opportunity to marry any man in the kingdom, despite Rhaenyra’s hatred for her. She was also angry at her for lying in order to convince her to defend her to Viserys, which ultimately resulted in her father getting fired, a decision she deeply regrets when she finds out that her friend used her. And finally, she is judgemental of her producing bastards, flaunting them around, claiming they are legitimate when they’re clearly not and pushing her own children further down the line of succession. Alicent might not agree with Rhaenyra having sex with other men, that is true, but her hatred and criticism is directed at the effect Rhaenyra’s actions have on her and her family! Alicent has good reason to disapprove of Rhaenyra’s careless behaviour because it directly harms her, she does not criticise Rhaenyra simply for her extramarital activities. People who fail to see that just want to blindly hate on Alicent. Also, Alicent has done her duty. She was loyal to her husband, she gave him children, practically worked as his nurse for years. What duty is she breaking by sleeping with Cole? What else should she be sacrificing? Her relationship with him affects only him and her. Finally, Criston’s ascension symbolises his rebirth into Alicent’s protector. He exists, now, only to serve her interests. He tells her in the last episode that he can never atone for his sins, meaning that he has accepted his mistakes and knows that there’s no point in trying to erase them now. The man that thought his honour is the most important thing in the world died the day Rhaenyra equated him to a whore. I do not understand people’s obsession with wanting Criston to maintain his oath of celibacy, a vow he gave to the family that used him for sex? Sounds like rape apology to me. Him having sex now does not diminish the trauma he went through or how important his oath and honour were to him back then, nor does it minimise the importance of his suicide attempt. It disgusts me to hear people say that. It just shows that Criston has finally more to live for and that he’s retaking his life in his hands again.

Alicent having consensual sex that affects no one in her 40’s, after she birthed 4 children and became a widow, is not the same as Rhaenyra going to a brothel, losing her virginity to her uncle and her guard in the same night, lying that she didn’t, having sex with her uncle on his wife’s and her baby daddy’s funeral and pretending her children have a claim to the throne. Using the “Where’s duty? Where’s sacrifice?” line against Alicent carries the same energy as the Phantom of the Opera mocking Raoul as he chokes him by telling him to “Order [his] fine horses now!” because he was jealous of Raoul when he called his horses to take Christine on a date, something the Phantom could not do. Both of these lines being used against those who said them originally only show the pettiness of the mockers, because Alicent is not dismissing any duties or sacrifices by having sex with Criston, same as Raoul was not flaunting his wealth when he called for his carriage. The Team Black stans who use this line, just like the Phantom, are simply demonstrating their own jealousy and insecurities by trying to make fun of Alicent in a way that doesn’t even make sense. She has made sacrifices aplenty, her duty is fulfilled and now her watch has ended.

[whimsicalwordsmith53-library]

Disney’s Villainous (The Right Path Isn’t Always Straight) TBC

INTRO/PROLOGUE

Word Count: N/A

Character Count: N/A

Reading Time: N/A

Speaking Time: N/A

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"The history of villains is much more entertaining than that of heroes, because monsters are not born, they are created. They do not emerge from emptiness or darkness of their own accord, but are shaped by circumstances, by the wounds of the world around them. They reflect the depths of human pain, rejection, loneliness, misunderstanding. A hero is defined by his acts of bravery, but a villain is the result of a heart that was once pure and ended up corrupted. Monsters, in their tragedy, show us what could happen to us all, if the world were to turn its back on us." - A summary on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

————————————————————-

The story begins as an unknown figure (You, dear reader) facing in the first point of view, walking through a drafty, dark and gloomy place. It’s not any ordinary place that You have known, unfortunately it’s The Underworld. Hades’ domain that You have accidentally stumbled into and found Your way inside the God’s palace. As You roam the halls, dark open corridors at every turn, the palace felt like a labyrinth as You walked until You stumbled into a wide open room. A living room.

Despite knowing where You are. The strong crackling blue fire in an onyx stone fireplace seemed peaceful. The Greek styled furniture with some gothic hints decorated the space with luxurious couches, love seats and lounge chairs. A coffin shaped coffee table with a marble black counter with blue cracks was a few feet away from the fireplace in the center of the room. Underneath said coffee table is a large square rug in pomegranate red.

In one of the lounge chairs sat Hades himself, donning his usual chiton as his blue flaming hair flicked calmly with smoke billowing below at his feet and across the smooth cobblestone floor. His posture seems calm as his focus was on a book in one of his hands. And then within a second when You entered the room, his eyes averted at You and he closed the book calmly.

“Well, I’d never thought to see the day when a mere mortal nonchalantly enters *my* domain as if it’s their own house,” Hades speaks in a calm, polite voice as his attention was now on You. And he seemed rather amused as the God has a soft smile. “Now, butterscotch, tell me how You managed to bypass Cerberus without him treating You like a living chew toy?”

Well, you explain how you got there. Even though you can’t hear the sound of your own vocals speaking as you talked but Hades seemed to hear you. His face shifted from his soft amused look to one of concern and initiative when you finished your story. And you noticed his hair had small streaks of yellow and orange.

“I see, so you didn’t enter through *that* way,” Hades says with slight frustration, his suave tone sounded grumbling. “I keep telling the boys to make sure that they lock any exits from the Underworld, but apparently I have to make them check every exit now to keep any other mortals from entering my domain and making me look unprofessional.” Then lets out a groan of frustration and runs a hand over his face.

“But hey, while you’re here, you could just hang out with me for a while,” his smooth talk, polite, can-do attitude returned as he stood up and the book floated over to a bookshelf behind you by the entryway. Putting itself back in its slot.

You spoke again, not hearing the sound of your own voice but whatever you said seemed to annoy the God further and his hair turned mostly red. “What do you mean you want to leave!?!? You just got here and you want to go back!?!?”

He paused as you talked more. His hair turned yellow and Hades’ pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand that the surface world is your home. I’m not trying to kidnap you or prevent you from leaving. But would it *kill* you mortals to spend time with a lonely deity who just wants some lively company who isn’t already, ya know, *dead*?”

You look at Hades, then down at the love seat beside you that was facing towards the God on the other side of the coffee table, then back at Hades. You reluctantly sat on the love seat which made Hades smirk, seeing you have decided to stay as his hair was back to blue.

“See, it’s not so bad here, isn’t it?” Hades asks as he summons a tea set. He handed you a teacup on a coaster with some kind of liquid inside. The cup and coaster has blue flames on a black background with white skulls in the flames. The handle has a gold finish. The teapot sitting on top of a pomegranate red pot holder on the coffee table has the same design as the cups.

“Relax, it’s not poisoned or laced with anything,” Hades reassured you as he takes a sip from his own cup. So you sip from it as well. You could taste the tea flavor with something fruity in it.

You then spoke to the God again, and in return, he gave you a “poker faced” annoyed look in return but his flames didn’t shift. “Okay, let me just give this to you straight, just because I am evil doesn’t mean it defines me as a whole, nor am I evil *all* the time. I can be *nice* if I want to be, including towards mortals on a whim. So *excuse me* for being so hospitable towards you, unless you want me to throw you in the Styx.”

You gave no response in return.

“That’s what I thought,” Hades says sounding satisfied and resumes drinking his tea. “But you know, the villainous life isn’t always black and white like many want you to believe. That someone who is evil is deemed untrustworthy or a monster, and those who associate themselves with us are also considered as one. Not denying it’s true completely but there are those that are evil who also have a sense of heart. Like me.” Then Hades snapped his fingers as if he had remembered something with a perked up grin on his face.

“Which reminds me of a story,” Hades continues as he sounds chipper. Summoning a book into his hand. “You mortals like stories, right?” You eagerly nod. “Good, and it’s even better since this is a *true* story that I was there to witness. Let me tell you a tale of self discovery, tragedy, envy, and deception.”

Hades faces the book towards you, showing you the pages as it starts to glow.

“But to start, let me take you back in time when the royal four were little children.”

TBC

———————————————————————-

Hello everyone! Hope your Christmas break has been amazing. I’m finally restarting on a project that has been in development for years. And through so many ideas coming to me as well as going through life with this idea burning in my mind. It’s time that I actually rewrite it. The finished prologue will come out on Christmas Eve and the remaining chapters will release in June. I want to give you the whole story rather than waiting chapter by chapter for it to start. Love you everyone and hope you’re having a good holiday!

@cosmiconix @gavillain @seaslugfanclub @whimsi-clown @freaky-frankhie

[wolfgirliosef]

headcannons

the menzhinsky fingernail polish rumor thing (x) is true because i think its funny

transfem yagoda. it is known. i think she should be so broken up about realizing that combined with her work that she ends up trying to separate her work life and her home life to such a degree she basically has different faces for each room she walks into… makes sense with how we get accounts of her being Awful to her subordinates but quite nice and considerate and even somewhat timid elsewhere. i think if you gave her estrogen the soviet union would still be around and like god did you see youngoda

on that note, probably takes out some of her discomfort with her work on her subordinates. we can tell based on how she talks wrt reforming the penal system that she definitely had some discomfort with her position so it would kinda make sense

klimwoke he/theyshilov worlds best worst cis ally. loves to ask intrusive questions he doesnt know are intrusive. will tell everyone he knows about the answers to said questions. he is responsible for 90% of the kremlin rumor mill

stalin didnt stop pulling pranks because he grew out of it but because yezhov started scaring him as a “prank” and he hated it so much he didn’t prank anyone anymore because of how sick he was of yezhov’s shit

stalin plural. i dont need to explain myself. throughout all my time knowing him i’d say i saw maybe 5 different stalins or whatever molotov(?) said. kind of an egg in the sense that i believe if he was alive today he’d be a transfeminist with a blog where she gets called a baeddel by anons (trotsky) in her askbox

in a similar vein, trotsky is cis (i dont really do opposite agab trans hcs just because of how much that changes history and thusly their character) and as funny as it is to imagine him as an MRA i don’t actually ascribe to that idea outside of jokes because i feel that it’s revisionist, as trotsky was a feminist, however stupid he was aside from that. however i do think he would be transmisogynistic and just generally misogynistic if it meant he could be mean to stalin. this is shown in how fucking racist he is about stalin. he will happily compromise his flimsily held beliefs in order to disgrace stalin’ name

also on the note of trotsky and stalin i don’t think there was any romantic or sexual tension there. maybe the closest is trotskys fucking hateboner for him when writing lol. whatever it is it’s definitely not romantic or reciprocated. in fact i dislike it a lot

i think kamo, like stalin, has trouble sleeping alone. reading about how he used to live with sergo too… it’s cute

stalin is autistic see thread here

i was gonna go more in depth about ships but i think i’ll just do asks cause there’s too many to list. so send a ship name i’ll tell you what i think

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶Oh my God, we’re back again🎶

Well hello….it’s 💛. You said that my requests make you happy and that you don’t mind them so I have returned. By the way, if this ever changes, do not hesitate to tell me. Even if you just don’t want to write TØP anymore. I’m a fan of a lot of fandoms you appear to write for, so I’d probably be able to request other things (again, only if you don’t mind me doing so). For what it’s worth, your stories are the highlight of my day. I frequently reread them when I’m feeling down or in need of an escape.

Alright, enough with my sappiness. You know that meme of the girl explaining something to her mom and the mom is just like 😐 (google “Me explaining to my mom meme” and it should be the first pic that shows up)? I was thinking that a fun story would be Josh trying (and maybe failing) to explain TØP lore to the reader. It doesn’t have to go super in depth to things by any means. I just can imagine that such a scenario has happened before and, quite honestly, half the time I don’t even know the lore. As always, if you hate this idea, no pressure to do it. ❤️❤️

Lore - Josh Dun x Reader

Pairing: Josh x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1374

A/N: I love that you re-read my stuff. It makes me so happy that it’s the highlight of your day. Getting your requests is the highlight of mine, writing helps me relax at the end of the day-especially with how rough it is being in senior year (I’m in the southern hemisphere and finish school late November so exams are imminent 😭). I actually re-read some of mine quite a bit. Honestly I’m so proud of the number 16 cotton candy. The way part 2 ended made me want to cry - I believe I ATE that if I do say so myself 🙌. It makes me want to add more parts, like the reader watching Clancy perform on Good Day Dema and seeing how upset/zoned out he looks and being hurt by it, the conversations they have after reuniting, more of that series’ torchbearer bc he’s funny af, and more! Literally love this request btw bc I tried explaining the lore to my mom and she pulled the exact face in the meme. 

Tyler and Josh were always on social media. It had always been a key part of their relationship with the clique, and I’d noticed it more and more when they started tagging me in memes and pictures that I didn’t know the meanings of. 

“Josh?” I asked. We were sitting on the couch under a blanket in our apartment, the weather outside cold and rainy. Josh looked down at me, I’d planted myself in his lap, my head resting perfectly on his thighs while the rest of my body stretched out across the couch. 

“Yeah?” I brought my phone up to his face. 

“What’s a forest fic and why are the clique tagging me in memes saying you don’t exist?” His face dropped, mouth open wide in shock. “Tyler reposted something about it earlier and I don't get it.” He said nothing, the silence in the room growing with every second. “What?” I could tell he was trying to frame a way to tell me the truth, surely it wasn’t that bad.

“It’s a uh….uhhhh, like a fan fiction. And like….uhhh… I’m like not real in it… like a figment of Tyler’s imagination. Uhh and then a treehouse burns down THE END,” he mumbled, stumbling through the words and giving the worst plot description I’d ever heard. I was still confused. “That’s all you will EVER need to know… no need to look it up or mention it ever again.” He flashed me a quick smile before going back to his phone. I sat there for a few moments trying to understand his words before continuing. 

“But how is that relevant to whatever Tyler posted this morning?” 

He let out a loud sigh, telling me I was starting to get on his nerves. He put down his phone and properly sat up, giving me his full attention.

“It’s related to the lore of the new album, the whole Dema thing,” he explained. I knew that over the last few albums the boys had been telling some big story but that it was too complex to just google and learn about in five minutes. 

“Like how your character is the Torchbearer?” I asked and he nodded in response. “But how is that related to you not existing?”

“Do you really want me to explain the whole lore to you?” he laughed. 

“Yeah, I guess today’s the day.”

Josh had tried to explain everything as clearly as he could but it still didn’t make any sense. He explained that he was called the Torchbearer–which I’d proudly already known–and that Tyler was called Clancy. He also said that Clancy was trying to escape Dema because of the Bishops–I still didn’t really understand the concept of the Bishops… or Dema for that matter. 

“Wait, wait, wait, so you’re saying that there’s like… nine different Bishops?” I asked, trying to get my head around it. 

Josh nodded, “And they’re in charge of different sectors of Dema where the citizens live.” 

“If I’m being 100% honest, I have no idea where we are on the timeline or what the difference between Trench and Dema is,” I laughed. Josh covered his eyes and shook his head. He grabbed his phone, sending off a couple of texts before continuing trying to explain the lore. After about an hour, we both had our computers out, Josh was on the clique side of reddit and I was taking notes, typing frantically. A loud knock sounded from the door and I got up to answer it. It was Tyler, standing in the doorway with a large blanket with ‘twenty one pilots’ printed on it, snacks–including my favorite candy, the mask he’d worn during all the Clancy promotional stuff, a roll of yellow tape, and a stuffed animal which looked like a fat goat. 

“Where’s Josh? I heard there was an emergency and I came prepared,” he spoke, running inside and jumping on the couch next to my boyfriend. Closing the door I chuckled to myself and walked back over to the boys. “Josh said you wanted to learn the lore.”

“Well I tried explaining it to her myself but she wasn’t getting it,” Josh claimed. 

“That’s because you don’t get the lore yourself, come on,” Tyler laughed. He grabbed Josh’s computer and switched the tab to YouTube. “To start with, watch this.” He started playing the band’s ‘The Story’ playlist which featured all of the lore-related music videos. We started with Heavy Dirty Soul–which I’d seen before–and then went on to watch the videos from Trench. 

“Okay so Tyler’s character, Clancy, basically tries escaping Dema but then gets taken back. Josh’s character, the Torchbearer, is in charge of the Banditos–the rebellion group–and gets Tyler–sorry Clancy out of the city and takes him to the camp but then he gets captured again?” 

Tyler nodded, confirming my understanding. We continued watching the music videos till we got to ‘The Outside’. Josh  pulled out the stuffed animal and passed it to me before pressing play. I watched the video, Josh leading Tyler through an island and into a cave. A small gremlin with black eyes, gray horns, and white fur popped onto the screen, the exact same creature the stuffed animal was modeled off of. He jumped about the dark cave mysteriously, leading Tyler to a larger group of them. “Oh my god what is that thing?” I moved into Josh, cuddling up to him, completely stunned at this creature who was both cute and terrifying at the same time. 

“It’s Ned,” he smiled, “it stands for Neuro-Expansion Device.” I nodded and continued to watch the video. Tyler had gotten the horns from Ned and was able to control the dead bishop I’d learned to be Keons. When we finally reached Navigating, Josh paused the video. “This is the video those instagram memes were referring to, the ones Tyler has been reposting.” Tyler pressed play and we sat through the entire thing. The song was catchy and the video showed Josh leading Tyler through the forest and back into Trench after leaving the island Vøldsoy. What I didn’t expect was for Josh’s character to be a figment of Tyler’s imagination and the real Torchbearer to be the Bandito one from the Trench videos. 

“WHAT?!” I gasped, “NO WAY.” There was no way this whole time the Torchbearer was not there for Clancy. I wanted to cry from how sad it was and I had to find out how the story ended. “Wait so what happens next?” 

Tyler sat up and put the computer away, “Well basically we have another music video for Paladin Strait but that’s not coming out for a while. We’ve also got some lore stuff planned for the tour so I’ve got to finalize that soon too.” 

I nodded listening to everything he was saying and trying to remember the few follow up questions I had. “So, the bishops,” I started. 

“Yeah, what about them?” Josh asked, wrapping his arms around me. 

“So I get that Keons and Nico are the main ones but what about the others? Like what kind of a name is Nills?” Tyler laughed loudly, bringing a hand up to his chest.

“They’re from the songs off Blurryface, like Sacarver, “she’s a carver,” he explained. 

“Oh so you went through the lyrics and highlighted things that sounded vaguely like names?” Josh seemed to find that hilarious because he nearly fell off the couch. Tyler however, found it less funny and rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” he got up and packed up the blanket. “You can keep the Ned by the way.” I grinned and cuddled him closer to me. 

“Thanks for the help Tyler,” Josh held me against his chest. 

“No worries,” he smiled before leaving the apartment. Josh and I were left to ourselves, the rain still pattered on the roof and I could hear the occasional grumble of thunder. 

“So Torchbearer, what’s the plan for dinner?” I asked, getting up off the couch. I got up, put away all the snacks and drinks while Josh folded up our blankets. 

“You’re never going to stop calling me that are you?” he laughed. 

“What’s that? I can’t see you, maybe you’re not really here.”

//

Hopefully this is good, I wasn't too sure about it but I think it's worth publishing. I'm so glad that I have 💛 anon bc their requests are awesome and I love hearing their feedback. I felt guilty last night about declining a Joshler fic but bc of 💛 saying I should write what I want it felt okay.

[16ruedelaverrerie]

hello! i absolutely loved reading Les Mignardises (thank you for sharing it with all of us), and was wondering if you’d be open to sharing how you learned So Damn Much about food and drink and the pairings thereof? the whole fic was the literary equivalent of a feast for the senses and clearly came from a place of comfortable expertise (or at least extensive knowledge), and as someone who sits in that funky zone of being unable to drink but madly passionate about culinary conquests, i’d love to learn more! thank you!

I wish you could know how much this means to me! I wish that your mirror neurons could feel every stabby pang of joyful gratitude and keen inadequacy that your message has elicited in me! I wish that YOU COULD HURT IN PRECISELY ALL THE MARVELOUS WAYS THAT THIS MESSAGE HAS HURT ME!

Although you are much too gracious to put me in my rightful place, I think that I would probably be more accurately described as a... person on the enthusiast end of the thoroughly amateur scale, when it comes to food and wine. I can't say that I know all that much, where the rubber meets the road-- but I do love it, and I do intake a LOT of media related to it. Perhaps that's the only practical thought I have with regard to how to learn about food and drink; at a remove from professional hands-on experience, repeated exposure to media and actual food is the surest way there is of being more immersed in it! At the end of last year I made a list of the tv shows I'd watched in 2023, and it was just... various series of Taskmaster and then ALL FOOD/DRINK SHOWS FROM HEAD TO TOE. I guess it's sort of a lifelong hyperfixation.

Another less practical, but more theoretical thing is that I am of the party that believes that a poem is not like a frog; you cannot kill it by taking it apart. That's the way I feel about food and drink, too. Unlike the dissection of a living thing, I think that taking apart literature or a flavor profile into what you consider to be its component pieces is less about stopping its functions so that you can observe it. I think it's much more about the journey of attempting to ask a shaky, difficult, potentially unanswerable question: What about this makes you feel towards it the way that you do? Why does a poem, or a dish, or a drink, or a pairing, make you react the way that you react? It doesn't matter whether the answer you come up with is correct or not, because there's no such thing as a correct answer. It's that you're letting the question guide you through asking questions about yourself, and about the poem, the dish, the drink, the pairing. You're not any closer to solving anything, by the end of it, but you've asked good questions and you've allowed yourself the luxury of thought. Even outside of food and drink, I'm the kind of person who spends a ton of time thinking about why they like what they like. This is not necessarily a virtue! I've gotten into arguments with loved ones because I've demanded that they explain their tastes to me in detail! But we are who we are, and when I build an egg salad, I look forward to interrogating myself over what I'm doing with the mustard, the dill, the paprika, the potato chips.

I feel like the thread is getting away from me a bit because I am answering this on a hefty amount of pretty enjoyable Slovenian rosé. I suppose my point is, whenever I encounter a recipe, or a restaurant dish, or a glass of wine, I want to know what goes into it, and I wonder what it is about those pieces and that whole that makes me feel the way that I do. I like thinking about the layers of flavor in food and drink, what notes have earthy depth and which ones pierce up top, which are quick to hit the palate and which linger after you swallow, and what impression that tonal interaction of spatiality and temporality leaves on you. This kind of structuralist thinking is helpful for me, for example, in navigating pairing puzzles: sugar level in drink alongside spice level in food, acidity in drink alongside salt in food, tannin in drink alongside fat in food. Thinking about balance and relationality was a good starting point for me.

There are so many good wine education resources out there nowadays, I think you could get a lot of information about pairings even without needing to drink! (I used to listen to Wine for Normal People by Elizabeth Schneider a lot, though I fell off.) But even if you are more interested in putting dishes together rather than the drink side of it all, I think balance and relationality are equally effective markers for thinking about food alone. After all, that is pretty much the driving force of something like Samin Nosrat's Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat-- why elements matter, separately and together.

MY SLOVENIAN ROSE-INDUCED VERBOSITY ASIDE, I do need you to recognize that you have been very kind to me in sending in this askbox message, and that I would be more than delighted to keep bouncing thoughts back and forth with you on this matter, even perhaps with increased lucidity on my part in the future. I just think it's so neat that you read a story about Nines gritting his teeth for several months until he finally fucks Gavin through a dilapidated couch in the back of a failing restaurant... and then indulged me by coming here and allowing me to talk about food and wine. It's just so nice of you. Thank you. Tell me what you like to eat. Did I mention that I wish you could feel as scraped raw in the face of grace as I do in the wake of your message? SERIOUSLY I NEED YOU TO KNOW THIS, I WOULDN'T EVEN BE ON THIS PLATFORM OR IN FANDOM ANYMORE IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU TALKING TO ME

[hollowwrites]

Welcome to Slytherin

Summary - Sort of a prequel to Scriptorium! As someone who pretty much only plays as a Slytherin, I always love how sweet Ominis is at the beginning. Thought I’d write a little extension for it!

I’m thinking of doing the Undercroft Quest next? Writing angy Omi might be fun!

Warnings - possibly bullying(?) very slight

Word Count - 1431

~

Just keep your head down. Don’t draw anymore unnecessary attention to yourself.

Evelyn slumped down the stairs into the main lobby of the Slytherin Common Room. It was huge. In any other circumstance, she’d have loved nothing more than to walk through it’s many oddities and learn what she could about her new home. But right now, she already had half of the school talking about her behind her back, and the other half were doing it to her face.

Immediately she noticed, no one wore their school cloak. A gaggle of pretty sixth year girls turned to eye her up, before gathering back around and giggling.

“It’s like she’s a first year”

“She basically is. Just missing the stupid hat”

“How tragic”

Just breathe. The whole day can’t be like this.

She pulled the lapels of her cloak around her, hoping it would swallow her up, or at least maybe make her invisible. Puffing her cheeks out, exasperated already, she rounded the corner by a fireplace, making her way towards one of the plush chairs in front. Keeping her head down meant she wasn’t fully paying attention to her surroundings and she almost careened straight into a tall pacing boy.

“Can I help you?” He said not looking up from his book.

That was it. Her patience had run out. The next person who makes a snarky comment was going to be on the receiving end of her wand.

He looked up, finally, and was greeted with a rather unpleasant expression across the new students face.

“Ah, you’re the new fifth year! I’m Sebastian Sallow. Welcome to Slytherin!” He beamed, clapping his book shut and throwing it on the chair she was hoping to crawl into.

He seemed…pleasant.

Her features softened at his tone, the background chatter of the other students falling upon deaf ears.

“Thank you. I’m Evelyn Hollow”

“Charmed” he laughed as though that was a joke. She didn’t understand “Charmed? Charms. The class?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow” she shrugged.

“You really are new to magic!” He chuckled again and she couldn’t help but smile back “Well that still doesn’t explain the Ministry escort” it wasn’t a question but the tilt of his head suggested he wanted an answer.

“Oh, he was a friend of Professor Figs. He was merely joining us for the ride”

“Hmmm…dreadful way to go. I’m glad you and Fig are alright.” His eyebrows bunched together with concern.

“Thank you, we were lucky with our escape” Evelyn shifted on her feet, reliving George’s final moments in her mind again “It’s all…a bit of a blur”

“Didn’t mean to press. You just get yourself settled. We can talk more later” he smiled before his eyes widened “Oh, you should speak with Ominis. He’s the one leaning by the window. We’re in your Defence Against the Dark Arts class…at least I assume you are. Professor Hecat has her hands full with the Gryffindors in the other class” he rolled his eyes leaning to retrieve his book again.

“Defends Against the Dark Arts? Sorry, I don’t know very much about this world it’s all… extremely new to me” she stumbled over her words, not wanting to add ‘Naive’ to the long list of the words people were using for her

“Ah but that piqued your interest? Seems I have found a Kindred Spirit. You best get going before I talk your ear off. It was nice meeting you. Good luck today” he smiled warmly before plonking himself down in the seat beside her, continuing to study the old pages intently.

~

“Oh I think I heard one” the student tugged at their friends cloak pointing off into the distant depths of the lake.

Ominis laughed breathily. He’d been listening purposefully for the last few minutes. No such noise had occurred.

His holstered wand, sitting comfortably in his back pocket, alerted him to the presence of someone approaching. No doubt Sebastian, no one else dare speak to the macabre and scary Heir of Salazar Slytherin.

“Hmph, doubt mermaids find us that interesting” he said to him, tilting his head slightly in Sebastian’s direction.

“Sorry did you say mermaids?” A startled female voice sang out from the figure.

Oh. Not Sebastian then.

“Apologies I…thought you were someone else” he listened more carefully to her. Her heartbeat was elevated. She was fiddling with her cloak and the sea of gossip behind her all pointed to who she was “Ah…based on the chatter I’m guessing you’re the new fifth year. I’m Ominis. Ominis Gaunt”

“Nice to meet you, Ominis. I’m Evelyn. Hollow.”

Hmmm. No flinching, or gasping. She hasn’t thrown anything at him. Was it possible she had no idea who he was?

“Pleasure. You certainly had a memorable arrival”

“Yes it was…less than ideal I should say” he heard her shuffle about. Was she nervous?

“Did you see the way they just waltzed on in at the end of the sorting ceremony last night”

She sighed, listening to the gossip behind her.

“Ignore them. You’re the most interesting thing to happen in a long time” he shook his head. Some people just have no class.

“Thank you. Although ‘interesting’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“Oh yes. The girl who survived a dragon attack. Not interesting at all” he remarked sarcastically.

“Well, when you put it like that I sound positively heroic” she giggled

“Ha, you’re definitely in the right House” he found himself laughing along with her, easily.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I don’t really understand what that means”

“You’re muggleborn?” He asked rather surprised. From what he had heard, she’d managed to handle herself well enough against a dragon attack. He assumed she was born into magic

“Erm-“

“Sorry, born to non magical parents”

“Ah then yes” he heard the smile in her voice and couldn’t help but reciprocate. That must be why she’s talking to him so easily.

“I see. Well then…We Slytherins are known for our Ambition, Cunning and Determination”

“How lovely” she said dryly, raising an eyebrow. Where did she fit in on that spectrum?

“It’s also known for Dark Magic, Pure-blood mania and general Doom and Gloom” he smirked

“Ah. The Doom and Gloom will be why I am here. I can be rather miserable.” She laughed gleefully, the juxtaposition of her statement and laugh, causing a tiny chuckle to escape Ominis “Why were you sorted into Slytherin do you think?”

“I’m, rather unfortunately, a direct descendant of the Founder. Salazar Slytherin. On my fathers side.”

“Unfortunately?” She found herself leaning into him. This was the most normal she had felt in a long time. And considering this was a conversation with a relative of the founder of a magical castle, under water, about dragons and magic, spoke volumes for the strange direction her life had turned to.

“Yes. He was obsessed with blood status. A pure blood maniac. It’s not something I’m especially proud of, mind you, considering the majority of his descendants do not fall far from that tree. I don’t believe in any of that, don’t worry” he offered her a vacant smile

“And here I was fearing for my life” she jabbed

“Is the new fifth-year Slytherin in here? Professor Weasleys waiting for you, just by the stairs” a girl called out

“Hmph, that’s me! Pleasure to meet you, Ominis”

“Pleasure was all mine. Do let me know if I can be of any help as you navigate your first days here. Though I doubt you’ll need it. Don’t be a stranger”

“I appreciate it. I believe we share some classes together so I may just take you up on that offer.” And with that she turned and left the room, the idle gossip followed her as she did.

“That new fifth years been talking to Gaunt for a while now. No doubt he’ll try to stick his claws in her”

Just before she could leave, Ominis pointed his wand in her direction, trying to gather as much information about her as possible.

Unfortunately, all he gained was that she was shorter than him, with an aggressive walk.

“Distracted Ominis?” Ominis clutched his heart, jumping out of his skin.

“Merlin’s Beard, Sebastian. Why?”

“Unlike you to not hear someone sneak up on you. Something must have really caught your attention” Ominis could hear the wiggle of his eyebrows through his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he retorted, pocketing his wand quickly.

“You’re bright red, Ominis” Sebastian poked his cheek before being slapped away

“It’s warm…” he mumbled

“She’s quite something though. Isn’t she?”

“She is…rather lovely”

Masterlist

[stillsolo]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN. respond to the prompts out of character !

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? oh, where do i even begin?  well, i suppose i should start with how long sw has been in my life.  ANH was the first movie my mother ever saw when she visited the USA; she saw it with my grandmother ( and subsequently developed a massive crush on harrison, so indiana jones became a huge part of my childhood too lol ).  for this reason, my mother introduced my brother and I to sw when we were actual babies.  then, when the prequels came out, it’s all me and my brother consumed.  from the movies themselves to the original clone wars cartoon to the PS2 games to the novels/book series.  we watched it on a tiny portable player for every trip, and every time my relatives needed us to go away to let the adults talk lol.  it also helped our comprehension of english so much. i can’t recall a time in which sw hasn’t been present in my life! before i joined the tumblr swrpc, i kept to myself in the prequels community, wrote fanfic, and rped anakin on skype.  he’s always been a character that hit a little too close to home in one too many ways.  the main parallel i have with him (that doesn’t relate to his mental issues haha) is his love/devotion/attachment to his mother.  it’s difficult for me to explain without getting into the aspects of my culture (孝順 / filial piety), but in short, i am cantonese; if my mother asked me for my thumb tomorrow, i would give her my arm today.  anakin’s love for his mother, his determination to free her from slavery at an early age, was very touching.  EPII has been memed to oblivion, yes, but the pain i feel when anakin doesn’t get to hear his mother tell him she loves him one last time before she dies, and knowing that it haunts him for the rest of his life (eu), makes me want to throw myself out a window lmao  i have an extremely close relationship with my parents; this sort of pain is absolutely gutting for someone like me. anyway, when i joined the tumblr swrpc, writing han solo was never the plan.  i originally wanted to write luke but ended up changing my mind at the last second.  I’d written well over a dozen fics with han at that point, but was nowhere near confident, so i thought of it as more of an experiment. guess that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, because if you really think about it, since the day i started writing him in fics, he hasn’t stopped butting into my brain.  in fact, he’s been harassing me ever since—to the point that i even switched from writing luke to him… lol given my upbringing and my mother’s love for him, han has always been my childhood hero, as well as my brother’s.  our dad was our han solo.  the nostalgic and familial associations run so deep, it’s difficult to articulate.  we share many traits, right down to his universally agreed-upon zodiac sign (sagittarius); i know han solo like the back of my hand—and it’s probably because i wanted to be just like him when i grew up.

is there anything you don’t like to write? character death.  if i have to say another, it’s when people conflate harrison with the character he plays and then decides to address that in a thread.  harrison was a ladies man back in the 80s, and that’s fine, but that doesn’t mean the same for han.  i hate seeing the conflation between the two.  not sure if this happens as often anymore, but there was a time when fics/threads/even han rpers would lean into it, by default, thus totally destroying his character in my eyes.  i mean, write it as a storyline, that’s cool and fine, but infidelity has never been inherently part of his character.  i will die on this fucking hill.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? most unpopular opinion ever: action sequences.  critical situations, fast paced action, thriller scenes featuring immediate, life-threatening circumstances.  i love writing that which exhibits a sense of urgency and tension, with sprinklings of emotional depth and contemplative introspective moments.  scenes with internal conflict combined with aforementioned external events.  even evading enemy forces, sustaining minor/major injuries, dressing wounds.  dunno why those are always the most fun to me.  aside from that?  romance/romantic angst.  i’ve had many writing partners over the years, and each one thought they could outdo me in writing romantic angst.  sometimes, the psychosomatic pain of heartbreak isn’t far from feeling like you’ve lost a limb in battle.

how do you come up with headcanons? by being the most annoying, meticulous person ever.  i’m extremely detail oriented; when i see incongruities in my own work, i perish.  so, when i come up with headcanons, i have to consider all factors that may affect the outcome of whatever question i’ve posed in my mind and feel the need to justify my choices, for whatever reason, by tying it back to XYZ.  my headcanons must align with my muse’s personality, their environment from childhood to adulthood, their current circumstances, and if it’s an AU, how it mirrors canon events.  canon/eu is everything imo, because they are their own choices; it’s what shaped them into the character we know them as.  ofc, this is my process and opinion, so make of that what you will.

do you write in silence or do you play music? no music, no tv.  sometimes people talking is too much for me.  i have adhd and my medication only helps so much.  i will absolutely start writing down the conversation or lyrics playing in the background lol

do you plan your replies or wing them? plotting vs planning replies is different to me.  plotting gives me a foundation, but it can’t be too confining.  to plan a reply is to block out each moment.  if you trap me, i will always deviate; so i wing everything, even when i have a foundation.

do you enjoy shipping? yes, absolutely!  i’m not sure why people tend to assume otherwise, but i’m more open to it than people think.  i’ve never cared about who you write, if they’re in the sw franchise, or even what era of sw etc etc  never given a shit about what people think; if our muses click, they click.  honestly, some of the best ships i’ve had with han, as in the most enjoyable and enlightening of his character, have been ‘crack ships’.

what’s your alias/name? vin, vince, vincent.  vincent van hoe.  trash bin vin.

age? 27!

birthday? dec 2!

favorite color? silver.  if that’s not a color to you, then blue.

favorite song? you can’t expect me to… well, ‘in your eyes’ by the weeknd has been up there for a long time.

last movie you watched? star wars: the clone wars (2008)

last show you watched? … the clone wars lol

last song you listened to? billie jean - MJ.

favorite food? my mother’s 番茄炒蛋 ( egg and tomato stir fry ), unagi, freshly baked breads, fresh fruit …

favorite season? i get mostly tropical weather, but i love a cold winter.

do you have a tumblr best friend? unfortunately, so many people have left the site over the years, but i'm grateful to call these people some of the closest friends i have in the rpc: @techniiciian @desiccation @vibraea @rcvanchist @sgterso @voxcrystallis

tagged : @debelltio thank you for thinking of me!! tagging : if you're still reading this, i tag you!

[evansbby]

POYT 5 - My thoughts & commentary

MAJOR SPOILERS below the cut! Only proceed if you've read POYT 5.

Also, I will be answering all feedback this weekend! I wanted to give it a week so that more people would read it and because the feedback will contain spoilers.

Anyways, here are my thoughts (warning, this is long lmao)

Hey everyone

First off, I just want to say how thankful I am for the support for this fic. I never thought I’d finish it and to see it finished more than a year after the first chapter was posted and to see how many of you stuck around and didn’t give up on it is truly heartwarming! Thank you for letting me tell my story, thank you for supporting me, thank you for egging me on to finish it, thank you for sharing your thoughts and words of encouragement, thank you, thank you, thank you! I know sometimes I may come across as unthankful. And I’ll be so honest with you guys, a few days following the posting of POYT 5, I was so, so emotional and on edge and kind of upset because I thought the fic was not getting as much feedback as I thought it would. Which is crazy to think since we got it to 1000 notes in 24 hours!!

But I understand that people take time to read something so long, and it’s so much content that people need time to gather their thoughts. I get that. I’m just a very emotional person, which is why it may have seemed like I got upset. I poured my heart and soul into this fic for the past six months, so I will be emotional about it. That being said, I really want to stress on the fact that I AM super thankful towards the people who supported me and sent in amazing feedback, or reblogged and wrote their feedback down! I’ve read every single feedback so far maybe about three times!! I can’t wait to answer it so we can fully have an in-depth discussion about the story!

ALSO. And this is so important. POYT IS A DARK FIC. Steve, no matter what redemption I gave him, is a whole ass red flag in real life. He’s still a dark character, he is still someone that would totally be a villain in real life. POYT is a work of complete fiction, so please don’t think that because she ended up living happily ever after with Steve, that I condone that in real life. I think we are all old enough to understand that this is just me exploring a dark relationship in FICTION. In real life, this would be considered toxic and abusive. PLEASE remember that. Do not be with a poyt!Steve in real life. Please.

Now, to the fic itself. I’ll explain more when I answer the asks but let me just share my main thought-process behind it. I know a lot of people expected Peter to take Omega away and for Omega and Steve to be apart for a chunk of the story. I NEVER wanted to do anything like that. I believe I’ve mentioned it a few times but I don’t really love it when this happens in stories I read, and I always skip to the part where the reader and her man are back together. So I knew I didn’t want to do this.

There WAS an early iteration of the story where Peter takes Omega back to his apartment and she spends the night in his guest-room (she doesn’t want to sleep in the same room as him, she doesn’t hate him or anything but it feels wrong to her). Peter would have made her block Steve’s number and told her to just sleep on it. But she would’ve cried all night and missed Steve so much that she would’ve unblocked him. Of course, her phone would be flooded with calls and texts from Steve, ranging from angry to sad to demanding to know where she is to blaming Peter to blaming Omega. Really erratic texts like  “I told you I loved you and you left me,” to “fuck you, I will never forgive you,” to “sorry I didn’t mean that please come back, baby, I miss you.” And she would have called him back but hung up quickly before he could alpha-command her into telling him where she is (she wouldn’t want to endanger Peter). And then Omega herself would’ve left and gone back to Steve.

I didn’t do this because, honestly, Peter would never “kidnap” Omega. I know a lot of people used the word kidnap but honestly that’s not what was going on. Peter thought he was saving her, but she had already decided in Part 4 that it was Steve she couldn’t live without. In Part 4, she says she could live without her mom and without Peter, but not without Steve. She’s already said yes to his proposal, there was no doubt she was going to stay with Steve. Maybe a little bit because Steve had only promised to be better at that point, and he had not proven it. But we all know Omega always saw the best in Steve, always wanted him to be better, always wanted him deep down. It wouldn’t make sense for her to stay quiet and let Peter take her all the way back to his apartment. I know she’s always been confused and indecisive, but I wanted her to be firm in that moment. Because she has chosen to be with Steve. At that moment, she doesn’t know why and she’s still confused about her feelings for Steve, but she knows she can’t live without him. So she chooses to stay with him within the first few sentences of the fic.

I remember a few months ago I received an ask saying that they expected Omega and Steve to stay apart for about 10k words of POYT 5, and I read that thinking “OMG is this what people are expecting???” because PERSONALLY, I would skip the fuck out of those 10k words if reader wasn’t with her love interest for 10k whole words. That’s just me personally, everyone has a different opinion but yeah. I tried to stay as true to MYSELF in this fic as possible, and ultimately, this is how I wanted it to play out.

I wanted POYT 5 to be about Steve and Omega and their interactions with each other. Because if you look back at the four parts before this… why exactly are we rooting for this couple? Have they had any sweet or romantic moments? They have, but very few and far between. Have they even had normal conversations? I needed their relationship to grow and evolve so that it would GENUINELY be a happy ending. I wanted the over-arching theme to be their interactions evolving, and Steve saying he loves her and her being unable to say it back. Which is why, if you noticed, almost every time Steve would say he loved her, he’d wait expectantly for her to say it back, and withdraw when she didn’t.

I’d say my biggest struggle was writing Steve (as it always is). I wanted his character development to be believable. But I think people need to remember that he had already turned a new leaf in POYT 4. And so POYT 5 was more about him demonstrating how he’d change, and keeping true to the promises he made to her in the previous part. I really hope you recognised that I tried to do it gradually, and that he’s trying to be better but still struggling with it.

For example: when he steps away from fighting Peter, you can tell he’s fighting with himself and this manifests through his literal physical features. How his face contorts before bouncing back then contorting again. I focused a LOT on describing Steve’s physical features in that part (so much so that I had to cut out whole paragraphs that just focused on describing his expression changing).

And then his panic attack. I got a message saying that was very out of character for Steve (I’ll respond to that message, don’t you worry, anon). But I really do not think it was OOC. Look, in fics this long, characters need to evolve. And Steve has been cold, calculated, strong, put-together for the whole of POYT so it honestly makes sense that he would lose it. To me, it does. He already lost it a few times in POYT 4, so it would make sense that he’d lose it some more. I know a lot of people enjoy reading him as this all-powerful alpha male and I was like that too, but I had to write this because it felt right to me. Steve is very emotionally volatile, and I think it was fitting that he had a panic attack. It shows another side of him, and I was proud of that scene. I’ll elaborate on this more when I answer that anon. But let me just say this: usually, when Steve got angry in the past – he’d resort to physical violence or some form of twisted, calculated revenge. He cannot do that to Peter, because he knows now that omega won’t forgive him if he did. So, in that moment, he kind of just… breaks. He doesn’t know how to process his emotions properly, so he panics. He’s seen his omega kiss someone else, and then he’s had to listen to that same person call him out in front of everyone and basically told him no one would ever love him. We KNOW Steve is insecure deep down, and so it’s honestly not very surprising that he had a panic attack. Villainous, macho characters can have panic attacks too, anon. They aren’t just reserved for the good characters.

Anyways, this is getting too long but moving on. I really hoped I captured Steve’s growth in a gradual, somewhat realistic way. Like how he blurts out that her mother won’t care about her getting married before he cuts himself off (him being tactful when before, he’d manipulated her and said this VERY thing). In the road trip scene, his communication still isn’t the best but at least he is TRYING, with that “game” that he plays just so he can ask her questions about her feelings. Like, he couldn’t straight up ask her and he had to make it into a game but like… it’s poyt!Steve after all so what do you expect haha. And when they’re at her childhood home, he’s still that guy who goes through all her stuff and pokes fun at her… but the difference is that it’s now turned into gentle teasing and not mean teasing, like how it was in the first few chapters.

Speaking of them going back to omega’s childhood home, I hope you guys caught on that omega realises her mom has left the moment she opens her mom’s bedroom door and sees the bed stripped and dresser empty. That’s why she gasps. But she doesn’t want to accept it, which is why she refuses to believe it. I’m sure everyone caught on to that but I’m just explaining anyways because why not. I’ll also say that writing this part made me cry so hard, I don’t know why. I have a very good relationship with my mother, she’s my whole entire life and she’s the best woman I know. So, to write a character who just does not have that… I don’t know why but it really affected me. And every time I reread this part to edit it, I cried. Every time. Especially the part where she talks about the ghost of her younger self playing in the garden. Like I’m tearing up now… Oh God!!! Also, when she breaks down and starts screaming at her mom’s door, I remember I wrote a part where she takes off her shoe and throws it at the door. I cut it out but I wish I’d kept it in in hindsight, just to show how raw and hurt she felt.

Anyways, as a lot of you messaged me saying this, you’re right, this was the moment where something snaps in Steve and he changes. It’s like he realises everything she’s been through and is still going through, and all the hurt and grief HE caused her. It’s never explicitly mentioned, but since the bathtub scene, Steve is afraid she’s going to kill herself. Like, that’s just a very real thing in his head, he’s just afraid she’s going to do that and he’d have been the main driving factor behind it. And so he realises he HAS to change. It’s in the way he doesn’t get mad at her when she tells him to fuck off, when she makes that dig at him and says he doesn’t have hardworking parents who work long hours. I wanted to convey that in that moment, her mental well-being just becomes his number one priority and he realises he could lose her. Maybe not physically, but he could still lose her. Which is why he gets so desperate in the end, and pleads with her to stay with him.

WHICH IS WHY, from then on, we see Steve being very communicative all of a sudden. And it’s ironic, because he’s not communicative about his own shit but he wants omega to voice all her concerns. That is why we get so much of “baby, tell me how you’re feeling.” Simply put, he’s afraid she’ll kill herself, and he also wants to be more communicative in order to improve their relationship and be better for her. Which is why he kind of throws himself into this new persona of this ultra communicative, ultra vocal about his love type of boyfriend. Like, he really lays it on thick, but he means it… and it also comes from a place of desperation, like he NEEDS her to get better. He knows deep down he’s about to lose his mother, but he cannot lose omega too. So if some of you thought it was OOC for him being SO SO SO vocal about his declarations of love and all his sweet little speeches, well, this is why I did it.

Speaking of Mrs. Rogers, she was a big talking point amongst all of you in the feedback I got! Like, overwhelmingly so! All I’ll say is, the whole cancer thing is something I pictured for her for a long time. But there WAS an early iteration of Steve’s parents where we would’ve met them in POYT 4 during Steve’s graduation and they would’ve been snooty and not approved of Omega. But somewhere along the way, that all changed. But I do want to stress that I did not mean to give the impression that Steve’s mom having cancer is the reason why he’s a bully. He was a bully alpha way before his mother got sick. Maybe it contributed a little bit but it does not excuse his behaviour at all and I never meant for it to! Honestly, it was more about exploring just how delusional and scared Steve really is, deep down. Like, his inability to accept that his mother is dying is very similar to omega refusing at first to accept that her mom left her. It’s more about how both the main characters push their problems aside and are often unable to accept them head on. It also added another facet to Steve’s character, and made things that little bit more heartbreaking, which was my intention.

Oh my fucking God, this is already 2.4k words??? Anyways, I really want to talk about the Rogers’ family mansion. So, since I was a child, I was obsessed with this author called VC Andrews who wrote Flowers in the Attic. When I say obsessed, I mean that I read each of her books like six or seven times and I still reread them till this day. To the point where my writing is influenced by her. Anyways, her stories were often rags-to-riches, and the heroine always describes a mansion. I was entranced reading about Foxworth Hall from FitA and Farthingale Manor from Heaven (if you guys haven’t read these books, please do. They are so, so good. I write the way I write because I read these books). So when I wrote the scene of Steve’s mansion, I wanted it to have that gothic horror family saga type feel, and so there were a lot of descriptions of just how big his house was, how his family literally had a ballroom and used to host galas, I really just wanted to paint a full picture of that. And then amongst all those riches, is Steve’s mom, a woman who is sick, whose husband is always away, whose son is too scared to come see her anymore. The sadness and secrets in all the wealth, that’s what I wanted to capture. If you guys have read Flowers in the Attic, you’d maybe understand what I mean. I deviated a bit from the usual style of POYT for these few scenes in Steve’s mansion, but I enjoyed writing them immensely.

More on Steve’s character: at this point I wanted to show that he was changing but that he wasn’t perfect and change doesn’t happen overnight. Which is why he lashes out at her for not saying she loves him back (right after sex, mind you, when she’s feeling extra vulnerable). It was a mean thing to do, but again, nobody is perfect and least of all him. Also, idk if anyone caught this bc no one has commented on it as of yet, but she almost slipped in the shower because she was trying to chase after him :// POYT 5 could’ve been a lot sadder just then… but I decided not to go there. Anyways, I wanted to show that Steve was still impulsive, quick to get angry. But the key difference is HE CAME BACK. And comforted her. I just wanted to show his gradual growth there.

I feel like I’m doing too much now so let me speed through the rest. I really tried to sprinkle in a lot of moments where Steve was being his cocky self, because he still is that and always will be. He’s still got his rules, and he’s being lax about them but at the end of the day he’s still an alpha. What I’m trying to say is, in the future, he’s not going to be the manipulative, childish, toxic fuckboy that he was before. But he WILL ultimately still be the misogynistic alpha that he always was, albeit a lot less intense and mean than before.

The scene with Bucky was always, always going to happen. All that Bucky stuff was leading up to something, and I always planned to do this. But when I actually got to writing it and realised how lame this man sounded when he was listing his problems “Steve always got the better car” etc, I knew I had to have omega comment on how dumb his problems were compared to hers. Because they are!!! It was ridiculous at the end of the day. I know a lot of people expected a fight with Peter and Steve, but that was never going to happen in full. It was always Steve vs Bucky to me. They have more history, they’re both more evenly matched in physical strength. Also, I want to clarify that at this point, Bucky did not have any feelings for omega, she was just an object to him that he could not have, and it was the last straw for him. I left Bucky’s fate as open-ended, maybe one day I’ll go back to that.

The final scene was ALWAYS meant to be omega marking Steve and finally telling him she loves him too. Like, I had this pictured since day one. This was always, always going to be the ending.

In terms of her and Peter, I really struggled with what type of ending I could give them. Because realistically, if I was Peter, I’d still be angry. I’d still be in disbelief over my best friend being with a man who is just… Not Good. And I do think Peter deep down still feels that way, but he also knows he cannot persuade omega, and so he has to move on. He sent her a wedding card but, in my head, they do not keep in touch. Steve doesn’t want her to keep in touch with him, and honestly, there isn’t much for Peter and omega to say to each other anymore. Which I think is realistic. It’s sad but it’s realistic.

One of the hardest parts for me was making sure to tie up every single loose end. Like for example, Sharon. In an earlier iteration, I had originally planned for Steve to somehow sabotage Sharon and keep her from graduating as revenge for her being mean to omega. In the end, I decided against this. Sharon is not important to Steve, she is not that important to the story either, and honestly, she wouldn’t have deserved that at all. So, I left her alone. I hope she’s doing well.

Same with other tiny loose ends, like who fixed Steve Junior? Originally, I genuinely DID mean that Steve simply paid someone else to fix her. But A LOT of you sent me messages asking if it was Steve himself who fixed him… and it just made so much sense! Because the stitching is done lowkey badly and unevenly, so of course it was Steve! I added that part in right at the end! Also the sketchbook part, where Steve sketches his mom. That was added like, on the day of me posting the fic. I was so paranoid I missed something, but I don’t think I did??

Mr. Rogers wasn’t meant to be in the fic at all. I wanted to keep him mysterious. But in the end, I decided to add him in last second. And I liked that he and his wife are so in love, but I feel like he’s still a mysterious character – especially in his relationship towards his son.

Lastly, Steve was ALWAYS gonna be a girl dad. That was never a question. Like… come on. We all saw that one coming!!!

Now all I can say is that Steve (the one on my blog who answers questions) is going to be SO smug that he got his omega back (after like two minutes of him losing her lmao). LIKE?? He proved all of you wrong hahahaha. The whole time y'all were talking about him sitting at home, heartbroken bc his omega got taken... HE HAD HER THE WHOLE TIME. just a funny thought lol.

ANYWAYS, if you have any questions about the fic, any more deleted scenes you wanna know about, any other things you want to say in response to this? please send them in!!!

[minkkumaz]

I'M TRYING TO GET OVER THIS

months passed by since riwoo walked out with no explanation. as he laid in your memories, you finally were starting to be happy again. but he made things a lot more difficult when he showed up unannounced.

PAIRING lee riwoo x fem!reader WC 1.3k TAGS angst. minor cussing. major miscommunication. OMI NOTE this makes me wanna die goodnight, i cried four times writing this. inspired by memories, conan gray.

there was a part of you that died that day. the day riwoo walked out with no explanation. maybe you’d feel a little more sane if he told you everything, but he didn’t. the closure you longed for disappeared as he became unreachable. but you loved him. you loved him more than words could explain. the feeling of homesickness bubbled up in your stomach at the unlivelyness of your house.

countertops that were once littered with empty diet coke cans and receipts from your dates remained clear. waking up next to the ghost of a figure that was once there. all of it was gone, your life, your meaning.

it didn’t exactly register in your brain how distant he has been until he was gone from you. how his phone would be more out of reach, how his hands didn’t rub circles into yours late into the night. there were many things you picked out once you became aware. and you still didn’t know why. communication was never something the two of you were good at. simple apologies became much more meaningful. riwoo was introverted at heart, his calm demeanor almost could be compared to being emotionless. you never saw that in him, he let his guard down around you. so when days, weeks, even months went by without a word, you thought that maybe you were getting a taste of what it was like to be a stranger to him. you wanted to keep him in your memories, and look back at the photos of the two of you together. happy that the moment existed, and not that it ended. somewhere in between the lines, when you were able to smile instead of cry, he had to come back into your life again. rain pattered against the glass windows of your home. it was late, and you were as tired as the clouds. wanting to let go of everything and just sleep. comfort in yourself was something you became used to over time. when your doorbell rang, you felt confused. the darkness of the night meant no visitors for awhile, so you hesitantly let the creaky floorboards signal you coming to let whatever was outside in. you wish you didn’t open that door. completely soaked, riwoo stood at your porch. his clothes stuck to his skin and his hair made him look like a wet dog. the depth of his eyes, something you found yourself zoning out in, stared at you with regret. “hi, y/n. can we talk?” he muttered, blinking back the rain water.

“um, yeah yeah. come in riwoo.” you open the door wider to signal him inside, immediately drenching wherever he stepped.

you rushed to get him his spare clothes that you boxed up some time ago, as well as a towel. it didn’t take long for him to situate himself, so once you were properly met face to face with him, your vision went hazy. the feeling of hurt and betrayal immediately became familiar. it was always there, you just tried your best to ignore it. “what are you doing here, riwoo?” you ask him plainly, in an attempt to hide behind your discomfort. “i shouldn’t have walked out on you that day, but i need to explain to you why it happened.” he confessed. “i don’t need closure anymore, it’s been months riwoo.” your face begins to burn and you’re unable to maintain eye contact.

“but i need closure. what i did was so fucking stupid and i don’t think i’d be able to bear it if you didn’t even know why.” silence overtook you. the whole situation still didn’t sit right with you, so words became unattainable. “a lot of me was overwhelmed by all of this. by us.” he started, “when we first started dating, i didn’t have any real responsibilities. but then so much stuff happened since then and i thought i needed a break.” “then why didn’t you say anything to me?” “you know i was never good at communication, y/n. you can’t blame me for taking some time away.” he furrowed his eyebrows at your response. “three months riwoo. three months you left me without saying anything and you expect me not to be upset? to not blame you for all this shit that has happened?” you cry out, barely acknowledging the tears that began falling down your cheeks. “i know i–” “please don’t make it harder than it already is, i’m trying to get over this.” you cut him off, biting your bottom lip to hold back any further sobs.

“i don’t want you to get over me, y/n. is that selfish?” he says in almost a whisper. “you already know what i’m going to say to that.”

“then don’t say anything, please. this time apart has only made me miss you more. it made me realize how much i need you in my life.” his hand grabs yours, the gentle touch you used to love felt invalidating on your skin. “why won’t you let me go? why do you have to show up when i was finally starting to be happy again?” you sniffle, letting his free hand wipe away your tears. “because we still have so much ahead of us if you let me back in, if not as a lover, as friend.” “there’s no reason in convincing me that we could ever exist again, riwoo. not even as a friend. we both know we’ll prevent eachother from falling in love with anyone but one another.”

“and why can’t we just let that happen?”

“because i want to move on. i think it’s better for the both of us.” you affirmed, removing his hands off of you. “i think you need to leave now, riwoo.” a breath escaped your mouth that you didn’t know you were holding in as you walked away from him. there wasn’t any movement behind you for a moment. you almost wanted to turn back and tell him not to move. but you couldn’t. riwoo stood up from your couch and walked to the door, in which now had a box of some of his leftover things. but before he picked it up, he turned around to face you for the last time. the sadness on both of your faces probably should’ve told you guys that maybe you should try again. “i’m sorry things ended up this way, my love.” he held his head low, before you wrapped yourself around his torso. “don’t call me that, this is hard enough.” your words come out muffled into his chest. “can we stay like this for a little, then? for the last time.” he asked quietly, as you hum in return. he returned your hug, a sob threatening to escape from his throat at the thought of having to eventually let you go. you tilted your head up too see him. he looked weary, eye bags hardly peeking underneath his waterline. yet they were visible enough to make you frown. this was all his fault, but you felt bad. and though part of your heart died that day, it still beat for him.

“will you let me kiss you, y/n?” he looks down at you, helpless.

you barely nod before warmth spreads across your lips. it was intimate, his own chasing after yours. something that used to be rewarded to you after a long day. something that used to comfort you when life wasn’t going good. something that gave you butterflies. something that you would never feel ever again.

it ended as soon as it began, and he finally pulled away from you to grab the abandoned box in the floor. when he started to leave everything became blurry. “i’ll always love you, y/n.” with that, he became a distant memory.

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[crookedfandomquill]

TOTNT 1938 is halfway done (grrr no whyyyyy), and I have many thoughts. I will share some of those thoughts with you this evening:

- I love that this season is so distinct from the first, without totally abandoning its roots; it leans a lot more into the action/comedy, but it’s still got a lot of dark folklore and is very character-centric.

- The intro sequence is amazeballs. It’s like the first season intro and the intro from Bad and Crazy had a beautiful, unhinged baby. I never skip it!

- I love that they got back almost the entire OG cast. I’ve missed them!

- I haven’t seen anyone comment on it so I gaslit myself into thinking I imagined it, but is Yeon’s hair a good bit darker? It’s leaning more auburn than the old bright orange, although it’s more orangey in direct light. I like it, I was just doubting myself.

- Everyone is clearly having so much fun with their roles, and that’s what I look for in performances. LDW especially, but that’s kind of a hallmark of his acting for me.

- It’s hysterical to me that the writers explained the end of season 1 FIRST THING. They were like “okay we gotta fix this immediately so people stick around.” Honestly in the absence of other information I had a different theory for why season 1 ended like it did, but this works too!

- The end of episode 1 was genius. Getting them all together on the train, everyone with different information and agendas… chef’s kiss, no notes.

- I’m glad they’re giving Rang so much to do! He’s getting his romance subplot, he has his bandit gang…

- Ghost!Rang was so fun, and a great opportunity for hijinx. I love that it allowed him to hear what Yeon was really thinking, and the sneezing thing was hilarious.

- One thing I was hoping for from this season was a more in-depth exploration of what it means to be a mountain god, and it looks like we’re getting it! The information we have so far on our three mountain gods casts a really interesting light on the first season and Lee Yeon’s whole character. The fact that they were chosen for the job as children by Taluipa… I’ve gone into that in a separate post.

- Hong Joo is my new problematic fave. I say problematic because the scene where she comes on to Yeon while he’s blind really gave me the ick, but in spite of her inability to take no as an answer she’s a really interesting and fun character. Flawed, strong, hot… just my cup of tea! My love for her feels similar to my love for Taluipa; part of me kind of hates her, but I respect her at the same time.

- I’m still waiting to be compelled by Moo Young, but I’ve never tended to attach strongly to stoic characters (at least until we get a full tragic backstory). I’m excited to see more from him.

- I’m interested to see how the broader plotline plays out, considering we’ve been told that nothing Yeon does in the past will make a difference.

- Will Yeon and Rang’s dad be making an appearance?? I don’t think we’ve been told that he died, and we’ve seen Yeon talking about how abusive he was during his childhood. I’d love to see them tie up that end.

- Everything with Mi Ho was absolute gold (pun intended). Yeon is 100% going to return home and start pestering Ji Ah for a baby.

- Yeon and Shin Joo are really doing the Lord’s work getting Rang’s mermaid romance off the ground. Very accurate portrayal of an older sibling’s reaction to the younger one being in a relationship; I’ve said and done all of those things with my brothers.

- I don’t know what I expected from 1938!Yeon; part of me thought modern!Yeon would transmigrate into his body from the time period, but the alternative is so much better. Coked-up, petty, grief-addled Lee Yeon is a treat to see, and I wonder how he’ll factor into the rest of the story, if he does at all. The fight between the two Lee Yeons was epic and hysterical.

- On the topic of 1938!Yeon: I notice that his hair is in the Goryeo mullet, which I guess just means he hasn’t cut it lately. But also: his black-gray ends are gone. So he’s not cutting his hair… but he’s dyeing his ends! I like to think it’s his sad emo look.

- Yeon choked up so much blood at the beginning of episode 6 that for a second I thought I was watching a Chinese xianxia lol

- I appreciate how Yeon and Shin Ju are both spending significant mental energy pining for their wives. But also: WHEN WILL SHIN JU GET HIS WEDDING RING BACK

I’m sure I’ve forgotten many thoughts. Perhaps I will reblog later with additions.