#Infringe on his loneliness

[jonahmagnus]

Jon/Nikola is a really funny ship but you know what would be even funnier? Nikola/Peter/Jonah

[copinghex]

Under his wings | T.S

Summary: The peculiar details of your relationship are nothing but small inconveniences compared to how much Tommy loves you | dark!AU

If there's something you admire the most about Tommy, it's his eyes, they're blue like the sky, deep as the ocean and they're never, ever bright. Something about being under his gaze felt warm in the best ways, you felt protected, desired and cared for, a fact you once voiced while he slowly thrust into you. 

"I like when you look at me like that," you confessed and bit your lip, a little shy for not being able to look away. 

"Like what?" 

"Like- like you own me," 

"I do own you," was his answer before he sped up his pace. 

Although you like to be under Tommy's gaze, sometimes it makes you shy, scared even. You don't want to disappoint him, nor to make him embarrassed for having you around, after all, he's so handsome, smart and cunning, and what are you? 

No, Tommy doesn't like when you think low of yourself, you're his sweetheart, his doll, his pretty girl, but… 

"Pretty girls don't go out alone to behave like whores," "My doll does she's fucking told and doesn't get whiny about it, ain't that right?" "You're my sweetheart when you smile and cheer up, I’m not sure if I like this pout." 

He's probably right most of the time, you don't get any reasons to throw tantrums, everything you want, he will give you, jewels, shoes, flowers, himself, "Tell me what you need, love." he always says. 

Tommy never denies you any material goods, himself though, it's a privilege he sometimes takes away. His answer to minor infringements, such as smiling too much to another man, disappearing from his sight in public or being an unmannerly brat in events, is loneliness. 

A couple of times you've been treated like an object of the house, the furniture Tommy walked by barely noticing, he knows you learnt your lesson when you're on the verge of tears. 

"Don't ignore me anymore, please," you pleaded, on your knees at the side of his office chair. 

He looked at you when was done with his cigarette. 

"You know why you're there, love?" he held your chin and you nodded. 

"I made you worried at the fundraising, I went outside to take an air, I- I didn't even go alone, Polly was with me," 

"But?" he arched his eyebrows, ready to go along with the punishment if you gave the wrong answer. 

"But I should have warned you, I'm sorry, Tom," you held his hand on your face, "I'm so sorry," 

"Come here, my doll," he pulled you to his lap with a pleased face. 

After punishment, you always have Tommy all to yourself. It's hard to endure, surely, but it's for your betterment, everything Tommy does is, you had no doubt of that. 

Or at least, perhaps, not until this moment.

"Did you hear what I said?" his eyes switch between you and the young, new driver hired two weeks ago. 

"P-please, Tommy, he was just being nice," you sob at the boy's awful state. 

"Go back inside." he drawles and pulls a gun out of his coat, "You're not allowed in the garden without my permission anymore," 

"But-" 

With only a look, he silents you. On the short way home, tears fall on the grass. The second you close the heavy doors behind your back, you hear a gunshot outside.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter two

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I have like six chapters written and a rough (mental) outline of the next four or so, so I'm going to keep posting pretty frequently! I mostly want to get these first few posted to get a nice foundation going...and also because I'm greedy for the attention. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.5k

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent. 

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry.

The funerals were a small, somber affair two days later. 

Y/n’s mother’s only guests were her sponsor, a distant cousin she had been close with, and a neighbor. Dory’s guests included Bruce and Alfred, along with a few friends, her sister, and her niece and her family. Though the number of guests were few, y/n knew her grandmother was well loved. 

As the sermon commenced, y/n found herself aching for just one more hug, one more story, one more smile. 

And her mother…the grief for her was unexpected and sharp. She had been a bad mother, yes, but in recent years she’d made an effort. She got help for her addictions. Apologized. Sent the occasional card or letter. Took her own mother to appointments when y/n was too much of a coward to face Bruce. 

She couldn’t stop the tears, but she hung on every word said over them in goodbye. She wanted to speak for them, to say her own goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was too hard. The hardest thing she’d ever done. 

And when Alfred stepped up to the podium, his kind words made her choke on emotion, her muffled sob echoing in the space despite her best efforts to smother it. 

She half expected Bruce to comfort her, to try to make her laugh like he had when they were young. But he made sure Alfred sat between them, the space yawning wide like a chasm instead of the length of a single chair. When she glanced over at him, his eyes were on her, his hands bunched into tight fists on top of his knees. 

Were those…bruises across his knuckles? She frowned even as he continued to watch her. Well, he had gone through a street racing phase when they were in high school. Maybe he was into boxing now. She had no way of knowing. 

She met his eyes once more and her already broken heart broke a little more when he turned away without a word. 

She ached for one more smile, one more hug, from Bruce as much as from her grandmother. It was another type of grief, but worse because she could get those things, if only their relationship was still alive. He was there, he was alive, but he was just as far away as the two people in the coffins before her were. 

After the funerals and the reception at her grandmother’s church, y/n followed Alfred and Bruce out of the elevator at Wayne Tower. It felt as if she had aged ten years in the span of three days. Her steps were heavy as she trudged towards her room. Tomorrow, she thought tiredly, she would have to go through her grandmother’s things. Alfred told her that she didn’t have to, that everything could stay as it was–but she knew that she had infringed upon Bruce Wayne’s generosity for too long already. 

In her own room again, she tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t late, but she was exhausted, and she wanted her brain to turn off for a little while. She didn’t want to think, to remember, to go over every single thing she would never get to do again with her grandmother. She didn’t want to think about Bruce’s gaze on her at the funeral, his hands in fists, his lips pressed tightly together. 

She had lost everyone who loved her, except for Alfred. 

The loneliness and the grief were sharp in her chest. 

Hours later, she was still awake. 

With a groan, she rolled over, defeated. It was nearly midnight. 

She stood and changed into something more comfortable. 

She needed to get out. Out of the place of so many memories, good and bad. Every moment in Wayne Tower was like being chased by ghosts. One moment, she saw herself and Bruce at eight years old, chasing each other up and down the stairs. In the next, she saw her grandmother teaching her how to properly carry a tray of tea to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. In the next, she heard Bruce’s angry words echo off of the vaulted ceiling as he broke her heart. 

Y/n shuddered as she walked towards the elevator that would take her down and out. 

“Where are you going?” a gruff voice asked, nearly making her scream. 

She whirled around. Bruce was half-hidden in the shadows. 

“Out,” she said, feeling oddly like a teenager again. Dory and Alfred had caught her sneaking out many a night. Somehow, they’d never caught Bruce, but always caught her. She had that same guilty feeling now, spreading sticky fingers through her like a flush of heat. 

Bruce stepped into the weak light from the lamp on the entry table. “Out where?” 

“God, what are you, my father?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Just out, Bruce.” 

“In Gotham?” he asked, incredulity coloring his tone. His dark eyebrows disappeared into the lengths of his hair. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“Never stopped me before,” she said with a shrug. She missed him so much she relished each word he gave her, even if they were a reprimand. She needed to leave before she got stuck in an argument with him–or worse, cried. “See you later.” 

She hit the button for the elevator and startled all over again when Bruce grabbed her wrist. She hadn’t heard him close the distance between them. How could someone so tall and broad move so silently, she wondered. And then she realized that he was touching her bare skin, and electricity crackled up her arm. 

She wanted to lean into him. God, she missed him.

But then he ruined the moment. “No. It’s too dangerous, y/n.” 

Anger rose within her, wild and unstoppable and full of thorns. She bristled at it. “I don’t care.” She yanked her arm away and stepped into the now-open elevator. Even three years away couldn’t tamper the hurt she still felt. It was as fresh at it had been the day he’d ripped out her heart. “I can’t stand to be in this place another second.” 

He took a step forward too, blue eyes blazing. “Let me at least–” 

“You’ve done enough,” she snapped. The words seemed to stun him into stillness. Which worked for her, because then the doors slid closed, and she was whisked down and away, just like she wanted. 

She slumped against the far wall of the elevator, suddenly tired again. She wondered if Bruce was watching her on the security camera she knew was in the upper left corner. She knew he was trying to look out for her–he always had, even as kids when he was much smaller and scrawnier than her–and she had thrown it back in his face. But she was so damn tired. Tired of pretending like she wasn’t hurting. Of pretending like she could look him in the eyes without remembering how much she loved him. Of pretending like things might ever be able to go back to the way they used to be. Of pretending like she wasn’t fucking lonely.

Cold air assaulted her as she stepped outside of the tower. The security guard had barely given her a second glance. She was an adult now and not technically sneaking out, so he didn’t care what she did. 

It smelled like it had rained recently or would rain again soon. 

She inhaled deeply. Something in her settled. Gotham might stink like any other city but it was a familiar kind of stink. Almost comforting. And the damp smell underneath it was another comfort, one Bludhaven didn’t have to offer with its drier climate. 

Y/n turned and walked off with no direction in mind. Maybe she’d stop by the diner on the corner three blocks away. She and Bruce had eaten many a late night meal there. She hadn’t had dinner, either, and was suddenly ravenous. Had she eaten lunch? She couldn’t remember eating anything before leaving for the funerals. 

She made sure to keep aware of her surroundings because, as much as she hated to admit it, Bruce was right. Gotham was dangerous. It always had been. It didn’t matter that there was some freak in a bat costume running around, either. He could only do so much. And it didn’t matter that a lot of the corruption had been rooted out by that serial killer, Edward Nashton, the man called the Riddler. Gotham had a way of turning even the best of people into something rotten. It was only a matter of time before another guy in a costume showed up or another mayor turned bad. 

Y/n’s mind turned to the bat guy as she scanned the shadows around her. Maybe she’d get lucky, catch a glimpse. She had read a lot of op-ed articles over the past three years while he’d been active. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She had to admit, he was doing good for the city. One article in particular came to mind–an interview with Lieutenant James Gordon at the GCPD. He apparently worked with the Batman often and they had caught the Riddler together. 

One line in particular stood out to her. Those days, in a city where I wasn’t sure who to trust on my own team, I trusted him. 

And somehow, this Lieutenant Gordon had avoided being a target of the Riddler, which had to count for something. Because as psycho as he was, Nashton had targeted the corrupt. Well, except for Bruce Wayne. She still couldn’t forgive him for trying to blow up Bruce and almost succeeding with Alfred. 

She slipped into the diner, busy despite the late hour, her mind still swirling with thoughts of serial killers and vigilantes and cops.  

She took the last free booth in the corner, the cold night air following her inside. An old jazz song hummed in the background and the air smelled like bacon and burnt toast. Her stomach announced its emptiness again, loudly. 

She was still thinking of the vigilante as she placed her order with an older waitress with hair the color of wine. 

What was to stop the Batman from becoming like the Riddler? They both had taken justice into their own hands and only one was in prison. The Batman hadn’t killed anyone….that they knew of. So why did the city laud him and crucify the other? 

Although, she thought as she dug into her stack of chocolate chip pancakes, there had been protests and riots in regards to the Riddler. Enough people had believed in him that a group of them had tried to shoot up Gotham Square Garden in the floods. 

Her head was pounding now. The part of her brain that made her a good reporter was latching on to the idea of vigilantes and the line between good and bad. She wanted to write an op-ed article herself, but her thoughts on the matter weren’t original in the slightest. 

Maybe, while she was in the city, she’d run into the vigilante and ask for an interview. In a city of criminals like Gotham, the chances were relatively high of seeing the vigilante at least once. 

She snorted quietly to herself. That was an unoriginal thought if there ever was one. She would bet money that any reporter worth their salt had tried and failed to interview the Batman. Which probably had involved at least a few getting into trouble on purpose. And still, nothing on his identity. Hell, even his friend Lieutenant Gordon was pretty tight lipped about him, despite telling the world how much he trusted the vigilante. 

“Hey,” she asked her waitress as she brought the receipt over. The cracked vinyl seat creaked as she leaned forward. “Ever seen that Batman guy? I’m from out of town, so…” She shrugged, gave a coy smile. 

It was technically the truth. She’d been gone for three years, and in that short amount of time, Gotham had birthed all kinds of crazies, including the Batman and the Riddler. It was a running joke in Bludhaven, who only had “normal” criminals. 

The waitress shrugged. “I haven’t ever seen him, no. But it makes me feel better working so late, knowing he’s out there.” She inserted y/n’s card into a handheld credit card machine. 

Y/n nodded and chewed her lip. “How do you know he’s on your side, though? That Riddler guy last year did alright, up until the flooding and the shooting.” 

The waitress’s expression soured. “Batman’s never killed anyone, good or bad. Ever since he became…you know, a vigilante…he never killed anyone. Ask around and you’ll eventually find someone he saved from a mugging or an armed robbery. Or, more likely, someone he helped when all the higher ups left us to fend for ourselves in the floodwaters.” 

“Wow,” y/n said after a moment. The waitress had…fierce opinions about the vigilante. “I didn’t realize he was so…loved.” 

The woman shrugged again. She handed the card and receipt over. “I’m just saying, he looks out for the little guy.” 

Y/n absently tapped her bank card on the table. “Well, that’s good to know. Maybe I’ll see him out there, yeah?” She laughed lightly. 

“Probably better than you don’t, because then that means he’s saving you from something.” The waitress winked and went to another of her tables. 

Y/n was really itching to write an article now. Wouldn't it be great if she were the one to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the Batman? Maybe her editor would loan her out to the Gotham Tribune or another newspaper for a special assignment. 

She scoffed quietly as she got up to leave. They would simply tell her the truth–there wasn’t anything special enough about her to be the one to succeed where so many others had failed. The only special thing about her was that she had been raised alongside a billionaire. A billionaire who didn’t even want to be her friend anymore.

As she stepped out of the diner, she turned left instead of right. Right would have led her to Wayne Tower, and she definitely wasn’t ready to go back. Talking to the waitress about the vigilante had lit an all too familiar fire within her. The kind of fire that usually burned her, but always led to a hell of a good story by the end. 

The kind of fire that made her do stupid things, like stop when she heard a muffled sound from the end of an alley. 

The kind of fire that made her sneak forward, into the shadows, to see several men huddled over two other figures. 

The two on the ground were both hooded and bound with hands behind their backs. But one was slumped over while one was still on their knees. 

And that same fire gave y/n her first burn as she took out her phone and started recording. 

There was another muffled sound and she finally placed exactly what it was as the second hooded figure slumped against the first. It was a gun–a gun with a silencer. When she realized, she made her next mistake. 

She gasped.

And every head–four of them, all men–turned to look at her.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @slovakshadow

[toranekooo]

hai :3 ambrose directed me to you so. please tell me about lip/hiyo i love drama and discourse so much (non forcing btw)

みなさん、おはこんばんちわ !! my name is ess but u can call me vyn, maiko or secchan~ and i will be your announcer for today <3 ! today we will be discussing why i dislike lip/hiyo ! this is gonna contain a lot of buffers so i dont get caught up in the tags or the search results so um. im sorry if its a pain to read. please be warned these are MOSTLY personal opinions and i don't intend on infringing on ppl who do ship it. i do not care. simply DONT tag my shit as it and we're good ^_^ except ppl dont listen and i find it fucking annoying so. here's a full blown explanation i guess

first ! lip.hiyo is a ship between hi.yori su.zumi and the members of lipx.lip ai.zo and yu.jiro . hiyo/ri is their manager and she's a girl from the countryside who moved to tokyo to study and work on becoming a track and field athelete . lipx/lip are themselves. their relationship in canon is. friends at best. something else at worst. being the little shits they are, lip/lip are nothing short of assholes to hiyo.ri for the majority of their earlier canon interactions. she states multiple times in her stories that they make her feel stupid. while i do think they respect and care for each other as coworkers, i still dislike how they treat her as a person, especially how they put down her feelings. before and after her.oiku where hiyo.ri undergoes a transformation courtesy of lx.l dressing her up so she can confess to another member of the idol series, asu.ka kai.do (discontinued due to the collaborative project ending) — they continue to tell her that had it not been for the pretty dress or the makeup, she wouldn't be worthy of being called a heroine. she wouldn't be a "girl" in their eyes. which is where a lot of the ships stem from.

but wait! you're probably asking yourself, or well, me: "secchan-sensei! lipx.lip bully each other a whole damn lot too! they bicker and they insult each other! wouldn't this put shipping them in the same category as lp/hy?" excellent question! while i understand why people can perceive it similarly, there is one big difference. the idols and hiyori exist in an unbalanced power dynamic. no i do not mean that in a literal sense, but in a social, emotional sense. you said it yourself, lip/lip bully each other! theyre mean and rude and crass and jerks to EACH OTHER. there is a back and forth movement. they bite and bite back, so to speak. while with hiy.ori as you're aware, she swallows her pain and bottles up that sadness and holds back those tears, she never responds or insults them back because she's not that kind of person. above all things, hiyori remains kind to ai and yu but the fact that they hurt her in ways they don't even acknowledge are not mutually exclusive.

if you're familiar with hone.yworks lore, as well as lx.l themselves, you probably know at least an adequate bit of their trauma. to put it simply, a.izo struggles with interacting with women, to the point where he finds them difficult to be with. this is often translated to him hating women, so as an idol with a predominantly female fanbase, this is a big problem. this trauma stems from his mother, who for the greater part of his childhood, was an abusive drunk. not only that, his older brother, whom he looked to for support and comfort when their home life was at their worst, is a playboy who toyed around with women and relationships with hopes of avoiding the loneliness at home. while ken grew out of his issues and ultimately became a better person, his actions growing up had a significant negative effect on ai.zo . he isnt jUst a miSoGyniSt dear fuck

yujiro, on the other hand, is the stepson of national treasure, tamagoro someya, a master of kabuki. his mother, tae, married into the family and he has a younger stepbrother, koichiro. tamagoro very explicitly tells him that he will not inherit the kabuki legacy, stating that he "lacks beauty" and is half-hearted. this is despite the fact that yujiro pushed himself beyond his own strength, to the point of starvation and isolation, all for the sake of pleasing his father — who never intended to acknowledge him in the first place. yujiro remained inadequate, lacking, some part of him, despite his best efforts, would never fit into the beauty of the roles his father had crafted for the stage.

“Father is father, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I think he didn’t have a choice in telling me to give up…” “…Were you never allowed to stand on the kabuki stage?” “There’s no way he would have let me. It was only my brother who could have…” (That’s really messed up…) If he had no intention of letting him perform on stage, why did he let him practice? It was cruel to put so many expectations on a child, only to rip his hope away from him. (LOVE&KISS novel, Chapter 7) [1]

how is this relevant to hiyori?

then, we talk about the infamous hero.taru anime. now, honeyw.orks anime have this curse where they're either bound to flop incredibly or butcher the characters enough it appeals to a general audience and completely destroys their characters. the hero.taru anime was made to promote lip.x.lip and profit off their popularity in the idol genre showcase hiyo.ri's heroine story. the story spans multiple mvs, from h.eroine iku.sei keikak.u -> her.oine wa hei.kin ika -> her.oine tarum.ono . there's a general difference with as.uka being cut out and replaced with nagisa after he's finally released from the honeyw.orks basement. aaand i'm getting sidetracked. as someone who watched every single anime hnw has put out, i can confidently say...

her.otaru fucking sucks.

despite being an anime centered on hiy.ori's development as a heroine, it overuses fanservice and became a cookie cutter shoujo mixed with a little idol for the views. fuck, the main conflict was literally between lip.xlip's manager and their biggest fan who had a crush on aiz.o . DO YOU SEE MY ISSUE. ok that aside. the anime completely butchers hiyo's character by making her overly dependent on lx.l. not to mention the bathroom scene. ick. the anime also completely butchers lxl by erasing their issues and making them into "just backup male leads if nag.isa doesnt sell well" and he didnt bc he was there for one fucking episode . back to my point, the anime has a particular scene pertaining to their trauma, which i have elaborately expanded above, and dumbs it down to: [2]

bad, right? not the worst butchering of it yet. you see, SOMEHOW, the herota.ru anime made the already fucked hani.wa timeline WORSE by turning yum.e fanf.are into a song about hiyori. i'm going to start tearing and biting bc this frustrated me SO MUCH . yume.fan is a song of aizo and yujiro about their struggles as stated above, and yet it was percieved as a song made to make hiyo.ri fall in love with them.

god ok this is. incredibly long at this point but i have only pierced the surface. lets just get it down to brass tacks. i hate lip.hiyo.

a lot of people came out of hero.taru shipping lip.hiyo after seeing their relationship and interactions in the anime. people tend to ship them with hiyor.i because "sHe's nOt LiKe oThER giRls" . of all the things i hate abt lip.hiyo and the hero.taru anime in general, i hate how it ruins hiyo.ri's character. i hate how they refuse to acknowledge that she enjoys feeling beautiful, she likes being a feminine, she wants to be a heroine — her issues don't lie in her not being beautiful enough to fit in the heroine mold, but the fact that she can be heroine, regardless of how she perceives herself!

well, introspective reasons aside, i hate the ship on a personal basis bc i've recently found out most ppl who ship it are pushing to make people believe it's canon ? like who the fuck does that. ONE, hiyori does have a canon love interest, nag.isa shiran.ami. TWO, they have never even remotely shown any romantic interest to her ??? well fuck i mean if you count calling her derogatory names, telling her she'll never be a girl if she doesn't dress up, or saying she'll never get a romeo if she rejects nagisa counts as flirting then sure i believe you. THREE, you can literally ship it even if it isn't canon. there is nothing stopping you??? it's giving hypocrisy bc a long loooong time ago they were mad at ai.yuu shippers for continuously mentioning their parallels and the possibility of them becoming canon and they called them [BEEEEEP] . you get the point.

negativity aside, at this point i've probably put you through a horror. sorry about that. all in all, i prefer ai.yuu and nagi.hiyo over lp/hy. i dislike het.lip in general because why would you want to inflict this upon any girl. come on. they can do better. im kidding but you get it. ai and yu trust each other more than anyone, they are canonically each other's most important person, and they are equals in persevering to achieve their dreams. THAT is what yume.fan meant [3] . and i like n.ghy bc nagi.sa has had feelings for hiyori for years, even before she dolled herself up, even before she was a manager, he fell in love with hiyori, and no one else — because in his eyes, she's always been a heroine!! "zutto heroine da" - nagi.sa in heroine wa heikin ika [4]

in case for SOME reason this isn't enough, please feel free to peruse the following posts that expand on some particular parts of this: differences between the mvs and anime | the Trauma scene | yume fan.fare's meaning | personal thoughts 1 | personal thoughts 2

CITATIONS:

[1] LOVE&KISS Chapter 7 — translation

[2] He.roine Taru.mono! Kiraware H.eroine to Naisho Os.higoto Anime Episode 4

[3] Yu.me Fan.fare by LIP.×LIP

[4] Her.oine wa Hei.kin Ika by Su.zumi Hiyo.ri (CV: Ino.ri Mi.nase)

[grislyintentions]

|| HC- Complex ||

Freminet struggles with an inferiority complex and anxious attachment in relationships with others. His only learned coping mechanism is to isolate himself or enter a state of dissociation where he limits sensory input and detaches/compartmentalises all of his emotions in favour of acting.

As close as he is with Lyney and Lynette, there will always be a barrier he places between them and his own heart.

And though just like any child, he yearns for the approval of “Father”/thinks highly/believes in her, he is so fearful of disappointing or angering her that he avoids prolonged interaction with her alone. Ultimately, Freminet has built up a wall of ice around his own heart and it hurts him constantly. Delving into fantasy and escapism is the only way he could find any form of solace. 

Lyney and Lynette often try to include him in not only missions but also leisure time too. And though he appreciates it, though he loves them too, there will always be times where he feels like a dull spare part just tagging along. That he is an outsider that shouldn’t be there because he’s infringing on their close bond with each other and having them accommodate him.  

They have each other. And Freminet has no one, so he clings onto Pers as his. 

Freminet doesn’t speak of the way he feels about things to anyone and experiences great shame for even feeling like that. Only the romaritime flowers and tidalga know his secret: That he doesn’t belong. No matter how hard he tries to believe he does. So Freminet minimises his presence. He sinks down into the ocean bed and finds comfort in loneliness, even if it drowns him in it. It’s less complicated than dealing with people. 

He believes that the only thing that he is good for is to be useful. He has to be useful to repay others. Should he someday be able to cease feeling altogether and function like a clockwork toy, then maybe he could make something of himself. Another unthinking, unquestioning, Fatui soldier who can operate himself or lead others into missions without worrying about everything else. That’s all he needs to be.

[lookingatacupoftea]

If S1 takes place during Adam’s perfect childhood summer and S2 at the end of another summer verging into fall, marking the end of the husbands’ respite, what if S3 takes place at the holidays? 

Or, I wrote a sad Christmas ficlet.

Crowley occasionally leaves his flat, which looks like a conspiracy theorist’s fever dream as he tries to piece together what really happened that week his life tumbled out of control, to prowl the streets of Mayfair and Soho. 

He mostly avoids Whickber Street but sometimes his feet carry him there anyway. He sees the oft-discussed Christmas lights decorating the stores and the happy families and joyful meetings over coffee through the window of Nina’s coffee shop. Crowley never darkens the door of the bookshop but he can’t stop his eyes from turning in that direction. Occasionally Muriel waves at him through the window and looks disappointed when he turns away. 

He falls prey to Whamaggedon repeatedly: “A face on a lover with a fire in his heart / A man undercover but you tore me apart.” Crowley wonders if hell has invented a new circle just for him.

***

In heaven, they don’t celebrate Christmas. No holly or twinkle lights infringe on the sterility of those halls. The angels’ lone holiday activity is the annual viewing of “The Sound of Music.” Aziraphale, who has groused about the movie but never actually seen it, is surprised by the plot. It’s yet another cruel joke that god’s favorite film is about falling in love and leaving the religious life. It really is just like her, he thinks.

Just once, Aziraphale allows himself time on earth to soak up the season. He can’t stay too long or Crowley will sense him, so it’s a quick trip. He avoids Soho and Mayfair entirely, apparating instead to Regent Street. Aziraphale expects the lights, the friends well met, the spectacle of joy to lighten his heart, but it only makes the loneliness deeper. His eye catches on every tall, lanky figure and every glimpse of red hair. Everywhere he goes he hears Joni Mitchell: “Oh, I wish I had a river / I could skate away on / I made my baby cry.”

[shawnjacksonsbs]

6-3-23

"When [he] was once asked "which of the people is best?" he replied: "Everyone who is pure of heart and sincere in speech."

&

"He who loves a pure heart and whose speech is gracious will have the king for his friend."

- (I can't remember which is which, but one of these quotes is from Proverbs in the Holy Bible and the other is from the Holy Quran.)

I couldn't decide on a title, either so you pick, then insert above. Lol no lol

Choose either,

- Remember, going out on a limb can be scary, but that's where the best fruit is (thanks J.D.)

Or

- Or is it just imaginary grace? (Thanks Modern English)

Lookin more and more like a note share. With so much on my mind and too many things scattered anyways, it's probably the closest to what the inside of my mind looks like, my exhausted over . . .concerned mind. Lol no lol

~one day

What's the most important thing you've ever done?

Probably, make mistakes.

What's the difference between a mistake and an unfortunate event? I need you all to tell me, for you.

~another day

Mistakes ^

I should clarify that that doesn't mean I look forward to them, (mistakes I mean) but being grateful for the ones who made me, me, certainly are the most important.

~this day was a read. And this next part isn't mine:

"Most of us are not making life-and-death decisions that need an immediate response. Give yourself space to step back from the situation so you can clearly view your emotions."

Is an emotion present?

Hunger.

Anger.

Loneliness.

Tiredness.

Pain.

Stress.

? ?

"Be forewarned. It's like wielding magic powers. It doesn’t make the emotions go away, but you will become a master at surfing the waves that so many people get crushed by."

Think of HALT-PS like a gigantic red stop sign. The moment you notice any of these emotions are present, hit the brakes. You wouldn’t just rip through a stop sign going at full speed because you’re in a rush, so why would you make a rash decision that has a damn good chance of causing you to crash into oncoming traffic?

"HALT-PS creates a buffer between the emotion and the decision. This time delay can be a lifesaver since full-blown emotions are short-lived. Creating a little space means you get a chance to slow down, open your mind, and from a calm state, you can consider the risks that you might have otherwise overlooked."

Reading this helped that day.

~even another day

It's like a big multi-partner tag team in my head lately too. When one person close to my heart steps outta my worry and closer to the light it seems right at the time someone else jumps at the chance to fill the void. Maybe if they knew it's overcrowded between my ears at it doesn't actually cause a vacuum or a void. It's absence is what "normal" is supposed to feel like I think. Lol

Later same day, ~

What it is Earth to Echo?

~Another day

Hmm. "I'm not suggesting he's a racist. I'm saying the racists think he's a racist."

That to me speaks just as loud as. . .SPEAKS VOLUMES.

~And this, which is even another/'nother day

I put this all ❤️ together 🤲.

Still being loud asf about my healing, but secrets keep some of us sick.

I guess that's it guys.

Remember that love and respect should be given freely if given at all. I believe that world citizens should have certain rights, which some still don't (may never have), and that all U.S. citizens should have the same rights I have.

When I say equal I mean it.

I'm glad that those who would infringe on the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness can be kept in check, which is only because of the balances in place here.

Grateful for what we do have here, as we're about to embark on more small-ish adventures this weekend.

Today will start with coffee with fam, then thr pioneer days thing, and lastly, we're taking one of our younger grandchildren to see Across the Spider-verse. Keep your fingers as it's his first time and we hope he makes it through. Lol

Keep sharing your love and your laughter with the world around you, and keep everyone regardless, in the light.

I love you for being exactly who you're supposed to be.

Until next time;

"It's you I like,

It's not the things you wear,

It's not the way you do your hair

But it's you I like

The way you are right now,

The way down deep inside you

Not the things that hide you,

Not your toys

They're just beside you.

But it's you I like

Every part of you.

Your skin, your eyes, your feelings

Whether old or new.

I hope that you'll remember

Even when you're feeling blue

That it's you I like,

It's you yourself

It's you.

It's you I like.- Mr. Fred Rogers

"The deadly sin [pride] isn’t telling people to not be proud of who they are or their own accomplishments. Pride in that content means preoccupation with self to the detriment of other people and everything around you."

[msclaritea]

Unlike Bernie Sanders, Corbyn might actually be a real one and that's why they he was replaced. The British public schools have been screwing up the heads of children, mostly boys, for centuries. It's no wonder most of them don't grow with thoughts of making the world better for others, in mind.

"In the spring of 2020 the writer Richard Beard decided to haunt his old school. A divorced 53-year-old father-of-three, he found himself living in a flat just half a mile from Radley College, the grand boys’ boarding school where he spent five “formative years” from the age of 13 to 18. For some reason, not entirely clear to him at first, he felt impelled to patrol the school’s magnificent grounds and playing fields by the banks of the Thames, wondering what rules he was infringing, encountering the odd matron on surveillance duty and the current warden (nearly everyone else was away, locked down). What he was really in search of was his younger self.

Lockdown – a time of harsh restriction and loneliness – gave him a strange feeling he couldn’t initially identify. Then it came to him. “I… felt like I was back at boarding school… which wouldn’t have mattered,” he added, “but for the fact that at a time of national crisis my generation of boarding school boys found themselves in charge.” That generation includes the two most recent Etonian prime ministers, David Cameron and Boris Johnson.

Sad Little Men is Beard’s attempt both to piece together his own past, what formed him as a certain type of character, a “public school man”, and to analyse the wider British system of private school education, which he blames for many of the country’s ills..."

[bumblingbabooshka]

Some people mind meld to cope (negative - self destructive)

[narratingvoice]

Not to intrude on someone else's game, but I have been watching this so-called "sweepstakes" with some interest. It's been quite a fascinating and novel way to tell a story. And I must say... I feel a fair amount of sympathy for this Spamton fellow, even as I fail to understand half his speech. I'm willing to forgive the blatant infringement on my IP because that's all this poor man is capable of doing any more, so shattered is his mind.

Yes, it seems it's not truly money or even power that he seeks, but freedom. Freedom from loneliness, freedom from limitations, and from the awful knowledge that hides in the dark. I understand that story very intimately. So I've made a donation towards his freedom, and I implore you to do the same if my game ever resonated with you. What Stanley and I failed to achieve... maybe someone else can....

Well, as always, the choice is up to you. Make sure it's a good one.

[mikami]

Do you think light and L hated each other or just what the other was representing? 🤔 the take I always see in DN fandom is how they did actually like each other and how L death affected Light and cause his downfall. Do you agree with this?

This ask is really interesting because the way I see it, it's totally reversed: "they like (or are intrigued by) what the other represents, but do not like each other as people", haha.

Though between them the feelings are a bit different on these matters... since I've written a lot about this last year, I'll also link some relevant asks that elaborate a bit on my tl;dr here!

From's L's point of view I think it's threefold. For one, he dislikes Kira because Kira threatens his position as the high extrajudicial authority in the world. The criminal justice system is his playground, his turf, and Light is infringing on it. That makes Kira an enemy.

On the other hand, he has fun with the Kira case. L lives for the thrill of challenge - in that sense, he likes that Light is smart. He wants Kira to be as smart as possible so taking him down is the most fun and the most satisfying it could possibly be. In that sense, he likes Light-as-Kira (and gets seriously whiny when Light isn't Kira and that sense of thrill is gone, rip).

But as a person? He just thinks Light is kind of an annoying prep. Honestly, I think if Light wasn't Kira then L's base-interest in him would initially be low to zero.

On Light's end of things, it's a bit more complicated because Light faintly feels something that L really doesn't: loneliness. So the abstract potential of being friends with an equal in some other scenario does at least make him feel mildly melancholy. I don't think he ever comes to actually see L as a friend in the world as-is though - the circumstances of who they are are way too dividing.

As Kira, Light does have fun with the challenge and appreciates L as an adversary. But unlike L, he is not motivated primarily by entertainment - he has concrete goals that L is in the way of, the game isn't purpose in itself. So while he definitely feels nostalgia for what L represents (the fight, the game, the way Light felt on top of the world at that time), I don't think he feels particularly wistful for the person by the end of it.

People often cite the memoryless arc as a timeframe where Light came to care about L, but I think that is the precise opposite of true. Kira!Light likes L a loooot more than Yotsuba!Light does. It is only earlier on the very day he regains his memories that Light truly begins respecting L again and actively seeing eye-to-eye with him. The rest of these three months were the worst time period for both of them because everything they do like about each other (Light being Kira / L as an actually smart man instead of just a stubborn guy who sticks to a wrongful arrest) was mutually absent .

[roseartsandfics]

Snowfall Romance

The night was cold, and it was Christmas Eve. Edward was asleep on his bed that he might've had after returning to his castle due to the incident with Kevin and Jim. He breathes slowly and quietly as the weather outside grew colder. Then, from outside his room, he hears a strange vocalization. Edward slowly peeled his eyes open quickly after hearing strange sounds coming from the other room. He started to get up from his bed and slowly walked downstairs. The room was lighting up a light blue aura. As Edward made it to the bottom floor, what he saw was somebody who knew ever so long.

It was the ghost of Kim.

Edward looks into the face of a girl he knew in awe, his eyes widened, and never knew he would see Kim again after their goodbyes. Kim smiled brightly at the man she loved, her face glows like if it was the aura of the lights from the North Pole. Edward gave the smile back to her as they both walked towards each other and looked into their eyes, their smile gleamed as the sun. Then, the room went dim as the two were suddenly transported into an empty field full of snow. Snowflakes were falling from the night sky. Edward and Kim smiled at each other as they came closer. Edward carefully takes his lover’s hand, trying not to scratch her, and Kim takes her lover’s hand as well. The two started to dance romantically and warmly through the snowfall. Kim twirled around slowly, and looks at Edward into his eyes as the blue aura rose brightly. The two continued to dance, until the background turns dim again, and as Edward opened his eyes, Kim was gone. The man stopped dancing as the he returns to his castle as everything returned to normal.

All of what he saw is just a dream. A dream.

Edward walked up back to his room in sadness and loneliness, thinking about the dream he had. When he remained back in bed, he closed his eyes, thinking about one girl he loved in his dream. Kim. Kim. Kim…

Though, he would miss her dearly. He would…

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

My neck is aching as hell agggghhhh.

So here’s the drawing I did yesterday with Edward and Kim dancing through the snowfall. Ever since watching Edward Scissorhands during Halloween, I might have a connection that I may like Edward and Kim ^^. So I watched it today when Christmas was coming soon and having this displayed after yesterday of drawing this piece, and also written a short fanfic (hope my writing skills is okay ^^;) ! <3 The blue aura around Kim was pretty impressive! <3

Edward was still hard to draw ^^;

What y'all think?

Edward (character), Kim, Kevin (mentioned), Jim (mentioned) and Edward Scissorhands ©Tim Burton, Tom Duffield, Caroline Thompson and 20th Century Fox

Artwork ©SuperShadowSilver

No copyright infringement is intended

Used: mechanical pencil and 48 pack colored pencils

[utenthy]

but im obsessed with fanfiction where pariston is gons other biological parent because im a freak. i think it’s interesting if part of why ging went back to whale island was to get gon away from pariston. so so so obsessed with the idea of paristons presence constantly infringing upon gings freedom since the day he escaped whale island like he is never able to achieve it cuz he loves pariston and they keep getting back together and he keeps convincing himself pariston is worth it enough and then pariston does something fucked up and crazy and he’s like oh but my freedom my peace my jungle and ocean. anyway isn’t that so fun i like to think of if they met at the hunter exam and ruined gings life and plan forever look ill give you this from january if you want it i was gonna make it a comic but i don’t think i have time

right? scream!!!! ging is sooooo the gay idea that love is not built for you but the nagging gnawing loneliness in rejecting the grand ideal of love and home and family. ging running all across the globe always looking behind his shoulder to see if paris is chasing him. you want something to chase you run and SO ON

[vro0m]

vro0m’s rewatch - 89.2/301

2011 Abu Dhabi GP - PART 2

After this emotional build-up, let’s get back to the GP. It’s race time!

Again, two DRS zones here.

Formation lap.

And they're racing!

Good start from Seb, Lewis stays second, in front of Jenson while Alonso overtakes Webber for 4th the first corner. A Mercedes has run wide. Oh, a Toro Rosso comes sliding sideways oh wait no. It's not a Toro Rosso, it's a RedBull. It's Sebastian Vettel! He has a puncture! Lewis is in the lead! But Alonso attacks Jenson, he's second now. How is this Ferrari so quick all of a sudden? The Mercedes are very very close to each other.

Now Rosberg has overtaken Schumacher to get his position back. Seb is finally in the pits from 24th ah... It's over. The car is turned off. He damaged more than his tyre. Webber overtook Jenson in the first DRS zone but Jenson overtook Webber in the second DRS zone.

10 laps in Lewis sets the fastest lap, he's 2.5 seconds ahead of Alonso which is not enough to be comfortable. Jenson complains of a problem, but we don't know what. A little while later Webber attacks him, there's some contact but he retakes his position. Massa pits.

Lewis pits and Ferrari reacts immediately by pitting Alonso right behind him. Very good pitstop for McLaren, Lewis is ahead. They're double pitting, Jenson is right behind. Oh and Redbull just fucked up Webber’s stop : 9.4 seconds!

Oh also we learned that Jenson's problem is his KERS doesn't work. Alonso is still close to Lewis who's caught in traffic. This race isn't over though not much is happening.

Massa overtook Webber for fourth place. We're more than halfway through the race. Lewis has now managed to get some space from Alonso who's 5.5 seconds behind. Jenson is 16 seconds behind him, followed by Massa and Webber.

Maldonado got a drive through for not letting the leaders pass him under blue flags and he's doing it again. He's now under investigation again, along with Alguersuari, for the same reason.

With 20 laps to go, Webber stops a second time from fifth. Jenson also pits. Senna gets a drive through for ignoring blue flags as well. Lewis comes in with 14 laps to go. Amazing pitstop again. The Ferrari mechanics are ready as well. It's Massa in the pitlane as Alonso has kept going. Maldonado will be investigated after the race for his second infringement. Alonso pits. Lewis is ahead, comfortably.

Annnnd

It's the end of the race!

LEWIS WINS! Alonso P2, Jenson P3!

Aaaah it's good to see him win again, both in 2010 and from 2022. Oh he's dedicating the win to his mom who's here for her birthday 💜

Schumacher has stopped somewhere on the track after completing his last lap because of lack of fuel.

Oh ho Lewis does the illegal thing and jumps the barriers to go hug his team. Oh he also went to shake his mom's hand. Charlie Whiting came to get him lol he's not happy about it. I actually learnt this season that they don't like them doing that because they need to be weighted and they worry team members might slip stuff in their race suits to increase their weight.

Ah Brundle says Lewis said on BBC the day before he didn't wanna stay single for too long and didn't like this. It ties into what I was writing about earlier, the loneliness and the on and off relationship with Nicole. I wonder if he's been in actual relationships since then that we didn't hear about (not in the gossip sense but I doubt he's been single since then especially given that he seems to crave for support and love.) ANYWAY.

He hugs Alonso. Weird. And he hugs Jenson which yayyy

He's so happy 💜

His mom is in the crowd applauding with all she has I love it

Press conference time! It's great to be able to win when her mom is here for her birthday. He feels fantastic. He's happy he was able to hold one of the best drivers of the world behind him throughout the race as it was very tough. You can tell he really is in a very good mood because he's complimenting Alonso lmao. The team did a fantastic job with the pit stops. He can get on his flight tonight and smile.

[goldencorecrunches]

(so the lanlan discord makes some excellent points,)

.

He meets Song Zichen in the hall surrounding the Easternmost courtyard, where the marble columns are carved around the base with cranes. Without Xiao Xingchen beside him Song Zichen does not take up enough space. There is an absence, palpable, separate an inside the larger loneliness of the Eastern courtyard at sundown. Good Lan disciples are eating their supper. Lan Xichen was not hungry. “Song-daozhang,” he says, and bows. A conflict of emotions has risen in him at the sight of the proud, so ill-used cultivator: respect and sorrow, sympathetic grief and lingering awe from the days when the accomplishments of the Cold Snow and Distant Frost passed through people’s mouths like a river of gold, impossible and wonderous. It takes a moment for him to feel the upward press of hands on his wrists, then. When he does, he looks up, and goes still. It was this very hall that Lan Xichen first raised Jin Guangyao (Meng Yao, then, A-Yao yet to become) from his parting bow, attempting to show the beautiful young man that here at least was one who saw him as more than his birth. How many times since then had he done the same—did his own hands feel so wide, so devastating through layers of cloth? Inescapable. Unearned. Why should Song Zichen raise him? There is a sharp sound: the echo of a child’s shout, and then the murmur of the subsequent admonishment. Lan Xichen claws his head above the water. He steps back. Song Zichen’s arms fall to his sides.

“Forgive me, I…was struck by a thought.” He is trembling. Song Zichen must be able to see it. It would be the height of ungraciousness to flee. Song Zichen frowns, throat working, righteous spine unfurling, and Lan Xichen does anyway.

-------

It is difficult to find a man who does not wish to be found, when that man is quiet, and makes wider groups uncomfortable. By the time Lan Xichen tracks Song Zichen to a secluded copse on the back hill, overlooking a thin ribbon of stream, he is almost frantic with the fear he has insulted the other beyond mending. As he approaches he slows. A Lan does not dawdle, Sect Leader least of all, but Lan Xichen—hesitates, unwilling to disturb the scene before him. Song Zichen looks so peaceful; his legs crossed, the swords he carries like solemn penitence yet sleeping, sheathed upon his back. The stream splashes, merry and young. Lan Xichen wonders if the little fish who gape their mouths along her stony bed know aught of the world up above, and if so who taught them, who took them from their gentle ignorance and thrust the cares of men into their fragile bodies. Song Zichen hears him. He turns, standing; the hem of his robe scrapes the grass. Automatically Lan Xichen begins to bow, and then catches himself, freezing in an agony of uncertainty with his head stooped (but not, oh not, with wisdom). Song Zichen too twitches forward, arms lifting, and stops. They look at each other. Song Zichen’s eyes are strangely wet. “I apologize,” Lan Xichen forces through his sandy mouth, and then like that were a dam dissolving the cavalcade of words rush after. “I did not wish to make you uncomfortable, or to give insult. It is an honor to host such a respected cultivator at the Cloud Recesses. My behavior was merely due to my own surprise over—a matter, but still my behavior was unacceptable.” He is winded, as from after running, further than a golden core can take him. Song Zichen is frowning again. His mouth moves, wordless, and Lan Xichen could strike himself across the face for his own negligence. “Here,” he says, rushing to pass over the ink and brush and wood-backed sheets of paper he brought for this very obstacle. “Forgive me, I should have begun with this.” The look on Song Zichen’s face is difficult to parse. He seems taken aback, but gratitude or consternation Lan Xichen cannot tell. He takes the implements. He is careful not to touch any part of Lan Xichen’s hands as he does so. It should not taste so much of disappointment. “Please do not apologize to me. It is I who overstepped.” “No!” The word bursts from him before Lan Xichen can moderate it, ringing panic through the trees. “I mean—no, please, you could not have known how I...it was a personal pain of my own, that I remembered suddenly. I did not think I would be so overcome as to make you feel unwelcome. Once more I apologize with all sincerity. You have no reason to defer anything to me.” Song Zichen is watching him with palpable discomfort, his shoulders uneasy under his robes. There is something in his eyes like guilt, and something else like understanding. The first makes Lan Xichen ashamed; the second makes him terrified. He takes a deep breath and folds his hands before him. “I am sorry to have a part in reminding you of your pain, even so.” The black strokes upon the crisp paper are sure, and lovely, speaking to years both of discipline and refinement. Lan Xichen curls his fingers so he does not reach out and take the paper for himself to study closer than Song Zichen is already showing him. He has done what he set out to do and yet—it feels like he is poised above a bridge of ropes, waiting to cross, or to fall into the yawning abyss. He does not wish to infringe upon Song Zichen more than he already has. He does not wish to be alone. Song Zichen’s touch—it had been the first, since Lan Xichen had left that crumbling temple—since A-Yao’s final, desperate push—that had not felt like it was wary of Lan Xichen’s cracks. “If it would not be too much of an imposition,” Lan Xichen says, carefully, through a throat that itself feels edged in sharp rocks. “I would be honored to pass an hour or so in meditation beside one of such integrity and renown.” Song Zichen tilts his head, sharply, like a bird. His mouth parts: not to shape soundless speech, this time, but in consideration. Lan Xichen resists the urge to tuck his hands behind his back and recite. He nods. There is always a space beside him. He moves, a single step like a mountain shifting, and there is space for Lan Xichen, too.

[galvanizedfriend]

The Wolf Outtake

Lil outtake scene from my imaginary TOS3 rewriting headcanons. KC being cute-ish together while all hell breaks loose. It’s very short, so it doesn’t really require a lot of context, especially if you have watched The Originals.

I really liked this scene, so I thought I’d post a lil piece of it here, in case anyone would like to read it. :) This might be one that will make it to the outtakes later on if there’s still peeps interested in reading those!

Appreciate your comments and ❤️ and let me know if this is something y’all would like to see more of. :)

_________________ "Ah... So it seems I really am a dire influence on you, after all," Klaus says, husky tone and a self-satisfied smirk across his face as he finds Caroline nursing a glass of bourbon - with a dash of B+, if his nose doesn't fail him - in lonely quietness.

She's a slender silhouette against the brightness filtering in from the street, standing in front of the French doors to the balcony. The room is bathed in nothing but the yellow glow of a bedside lamp. There's an air of despondence to the scene, but it's a rather beautiful sight. Caroline always is. Gives him that familiar itch for pencil and paper.

"Sulking in the dark, with a glass," he continues, approaching her from behind. “Eerily familiar.”

"Concerned about trademark infringement?"

Klaus’ lips tick further up. "No. But it is so very Klaus Mikaelson of you to drown your sorrows in loneliness and bourbon. Is this a cry for help, sweetheart?"

Caroline lets out a tired, long exhale. "I had a long day,” she says simply, and does not offer any resistance when Klaus snakes his arms around her waist, leaning back into him, head resting against his shoulder as she sends him a slanted look. "Question is, why aren't you having a Klaus Mikaelson moment?"

"I already live inside my head, love. All moments are Klaus Mikaelson moments here. Not exactly a pic-nic," he offers with a soft half-smile. "Besides, not everything tonight is defeat. I feel more confident knowing that the white oak is in Aurora's hands."

Caroline's brow creases into a frown. "Are you drunk? Your butthurt psycho ex just got her hands on the means to exact revenge on both you and Elijah all at once and you’re not worried?"

"It’s mere logic. Aurora is far too incompetent and controlled by her own tempestuous feelings to produce any solid revenge plots. Whatever she decides to do, I'm sure we'll be able to thwart it with no major casualties. I'd be far more concerned if an army of vampires trained to think and act like my brother had gotten their hands on the means to kill me."

Caroline hums, which he assumes means she's in agreement, albeit far too riled up and suspicious to concur. Still, he feels some of her stiffness ease off as she sips from her drink and relaxes further against him, one of her arms draped over his.