#Just thinking about it makes me very angry damnit

[lepurcinus]

I just wanted to watch baby rabbit care videos and ended up in a strange community of remarkable animal abuse...

For god's sake

I wonder what the fuck is wrong with these people's minds. That crap isn't cute neither funny.

[tsuncda]

so am i right or am i right in my assertion that bridgerton doesn't actually do character work, it just rebrands it's main characters before their season begins and tries to recontextualize them as poor little meow meows.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 8

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

This is nearly 5k. I have no idea where it came from.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

She shared his blood. Of all the people in the world, Cilla was the one who shared his blood. He had never thought that blood made a family. He had two brothers and he was related by blood to neither.

Cassian didn't know how he was supposed to feel about it. But then...he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about any of this.

He had never attached much significance to the notion of blood ties. After all, his own sense of family was built upon loyalty and trust, not shared ancestry. Yet, the knowledge that he was a father, especially to an illegitimate child...to a bastard...that stirred something within him that he couldn't ignore.

Of all the things he always promised himself he wouldn't do...he had done it. He had fathered a bastard. The one thing, the one thing he had held above all else on the scales of things he wasn't willing to do. He had never wanted to put a child through what he had gone through.

But it had happened now...Well, nearly 20 years ago. And it left him...sinking. How was he supposed to be a father to a girl he only just learned existed?

Cassian felt his breathing hitch as the enormity of it all hit him. He had a daughter, a living, breathing, person who shared his blood flowing through her veins. It was...overwhelming. Overwhelming, but oddly, not entirely unwelcome. There was a part of him that was starting to feel a sort of...pride. Excitement, even? It was buried deep down, but there nonetheless.

"You're brooding. Again," his mate said drily as she entered the room. His head snapped to watch Nesta make her way to where he sat in the window seat, curling up across from him, watching him with shrewdly intelligent grey eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

At her question, he let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "Just doing some...brooding," he replied, his tone filled with a mixture of sarcasm and resignation. He ran a hand through his messy hair. 

He should have known about Cilla's existence. If he had known...then all of this...would have never happened to him. He would have taken care of his daughter damnit. She would have never spent decades locked into an attic...she would have never been treated as abhorrently as she had.

A surge of anger welled up inside him at the thought of his daughter's suffering. If only he had known...he could have done something. He

He could have made a difference

His hands clenched into fists as the anger and frustration coursed through him. "If I had known," he began, his voice a low rumble, "I could have...done something. Protected her."

"But you didn't know," Nesta said, her voice even. He didn't think that she didn't feel anything about it...but she was seeing it all so...so calmly.

"Why aren't you angry?" he demanded.

"If you believe it or not I have been very much aware that you had a life before me. Why should I get angry at a girl who was born before we even met each other?" Nesta said with a snort. "Besides...I think she had...enough things in her life that were horrible, don't you agree?"

Cassian blinked at her response, taken aback by her calm logic. It was so typical of her, to see through the emotional fog to the heart of the matter. He let out a sigh, leaning back against the window frame. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I...I just...wish I had known. I could have been there for her...protected her from all the horrors she's been through."

"You weren't there. Through no fault of your own," Nesta said quietly. "But you are there now. And you have time, Cassian. You can fix this...Just...don't expect her to fall around your neck and be delighted with you immediately. I don't think Cilla even knows what it means to be part of a family."

His heart ached at Nesta's words. She was right, of course. His daughter had spent most of her life isolated and neglected. It was unrealistic to expect her to immediately trust and accept him simply because he was her father.

"I know," he muttered, his jaw clenching. "I know I can't expect her to just...trust me immediately. I just...I don't know how to be a father, Nes."

"Well, Rhysand didn't know it either, and he seems to be an alright job," Nesta said drily. "Don't tell him I said that, by the way."

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her comment. "Your secret's safe with me," he assured her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite the situation, it was comforting to know that he could always count on Nesta's dry wit and unflappability.

"But...you're right," he continued after a moment. "If Rhys can do it, so can I...right?"

"Besides, you do have a secret weapon," Nesta agreed. "She's mated to Azriel. She's probably willing to meet you, just because of what you mean to Az. It's not...the perfect position to be in, but it's a start."

"You're mercenary," he told her with a sigh.

Cassian shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression. "You're right, I can always use that as leverage," he said dryly. "But that's not exactly the ideal start now, is it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It's a start nonetheless," Nesta said easily. "Why don't you go over to Azriel's house tomorrow...maybe bring some pastries...see if Cilla is willing to see you for lunch."

Cassian let out a wry chuckle. "You make it all sound so simple," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Just pop over, bring some pastries, and have a chat over lunch." He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling agitated."It's not that easy, Nes," he sighed. "We don't even know if she'll want to talk to me. And even if she does...what the hell do I even say? 'Hey, sorry I wasn't there all your life, I also can't remember your mother, but I am willing to try?' I bet she'll take that well."

"Give her a chance," Nesta insisted. "It can't get much worse, can it?"

Cassian let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're right," he conceded. "I guess it can't get much worse. Alright, I'll go over there tomorrow."

And he did. He brought pastries, he made his way to the mountains, where Azriel kept his little cabin...and then he could just stare as he watched his daughter soar through the air. Granted...it wasn't really soaring. It was more of an excited flapping off her wings just a few meters over the ground, with Azriel hovering protectively nearby...but she was definitely airborne, her laughter filling the skies. Cassian had never heard a more beautiful sound.

Cassian found himself rooted in place, mesmerised by the sight of his daughter flying, her wings unfurled in the air. 

When Cilla finally touched down, her laughter fading into a breathless gasp, Cassian took a step forward. Azriel's gaze flicked towards him, a subtle warning in his eyes. Cassian could sense the tension and protectiveness in his brother's stance, and he couldn't really blame him. Cassian was a stranger to her after all. And she was Azriel's mate.

An even more subtle hand movement...telling Cassian to wait as he watched Azriel talk to Cilla, her hands moving, shadows clinging onto them as she waved them around to illustrate a point...and then grasp his brother's neck and pull him down to kiss her.

Really? He didn't need to see that...he really didn't need to see that...even when his daughter obviously was quite happy with it.

The kiss ended. "Cassian is at the ward boundary," Azriel said, his voice quiet but if Cassian tried he could still hear him. "Do you want to see him?"

Cilla glanced nervously in the direction of the wards and Cassian, her wings tucked tightly against her back. Seeing her expression, Azriel rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to mutter something in her ear. Cassian strained to hear, but he could only make out a few words..."Your choice"....and...he was pretty sure he heard something about "pastries"...

He looked down to find one of Azriel's shadows investigating the bag, and he watched with some amusement as the curious little shadow darted in and out of the bag.

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight. Even Azriel’s shadows were curious about the pastries he had brought.

"Just him," Cilla asked, her voice shaky.

"Just him," Azriel promised. "Your choice. Your pace. If you need more time tell me."

Cilla nodded, her hands twisting in front of her. Cassian could almost read her thoughts, the nervous energy she was exerting. Azriel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder again. "Just breathe," he advised. "You get to set the pace. Just you and him. I'll be right here, okay?"

Cilla nodded, her wings twitching slightly. "Okay," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Cassian could see her gathering her courage. Azriel gave her shoulder one more squeeze before stepping back, his presence a reassuring presence even from a distance. 

Cassian watched as Cilla took a deep breath, steeling herself before turning to face him. Her expression was a mix of hesitation and trepidation.  Azriel had let down the wards around the place...or maybe just made them thin enough that Cassian could easily step through.

As he stepped forward, Cilla started, her wings instinctively flared just a bit. Her eyes widened as she took him in fully, and Cassian could almost see the resemblance between them…again. The hair…the shape of her face…her brows…her ears were pointy, much different than the usual rounded Illyrian ones…

And she stood there…silently. 

Everything about his daughter seemed to be silent. Like she was scared to make too much noise. 

Cassian paused a few steps away from her, holding out the pastries in an offering. "I...brought pastries," he said gruffly, his voice sounding almost awkward. He cursed himself mentally...he wasn't usually so bloody awkward...but then again, he wasn't usually meeting his bastard child for the...second time, now was he?

And the first time...she had trembled her way through the whole meeting, staring at him wide-eyed, the shadows dancing around her, clearly agitated, clearly trying to offer her comfort and failing horribly.

Yeah...that first time had been...something. Cilla had been terrified, trembling and wide-eyed, and the shadows had been a nervous, agitated mess around her.

He'd done his best to be gentle, reassuring her as much as he could. And now...he was here again, hoping that this time he would manage not to scare her.

Cassian didn't have much experience in dealing with...easily frightened people. He was used to dealing with hardened soldiers, warriors, and people who could spar, fight, and handle themselves.

Cilla was...different. Everything seemed to scare her, and he felt woefully out of his depth.

Cilla's eyes flicked between him and the pastries he was holding out. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and the shadows around her shifted and fluttered, agitated by her nervousness.

After a moment, she reached out with trembling fingers, gently taking the packaged pastries from him. She looked down at the pastries, then back up at him, unsure what to do next.

Cassian silently observed her, waiting for her to lead the interaction. He had come prepared with pastries and conversation starters, but he knew that pushing her too quickly would only make it worse. So he waited, watching her closely as she held the pastries, her eyes flickering up to meet his and then darting away.

"How about we go inside?" Azriel suggested, for once the voice of reason. Cilla swallowed but nodded.

Cassian was grateful for his intervention. Even at a distance, Azriel probably realised that neither of them was very good at this. And Cilla grasped Azriel’s hand as soon as he was near enough, fitting herself against his side, half hiding against him…clearly pulling comfort from her mate. 

He followed her and Azriel, remaining a few steps behind, his eyes taking in the surroundings, silently making note of the little things that spoke of Azriel's presence in the house…a warm and cosy little cabin.

Cilla seated herself at the table nervously as Azriel lit the fireplace. The faint glow of the fire cast dancing shadows across the room, and the crackling of firewood provided a soothing background noise. Cassian sat down across from her, the pastries now resting on the table between them.

They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire

Cilla's eyes darted down to the pastries, her fingers tracing the paper wrapping of the sweets. She seemed lost in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity."The pastries are blueberry," he offered softly, hoping to break the silence.

His words seemed to do the trick, as Cilla's gaze flicked up to him, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before darting away again. "I like blueberry" she murmured, almost to herself.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of relief at her response. It was a small, but hopeful sign that perhaps he wouldn't mess this up completely. "One of my favourites, too," he said, hoping to keep the conversation going.

He'd planned several conversation topics, but they all felt wrong now. Like they would be too forced or too direct.

"How...How did the flying lesson go?" he asked, hoping that that would be...something safe to ask her. A small smile twitched on her face.

When he asked about her flying lesson, a small smile played at the corner of her lips. "It went good," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her wings shifted at her back, as if itching to take flight.

"I...I've never felt so...free before" she added after a moment.

"That's good," he agreed quietly. "And...everything else?" he asked...delicately, resulting in Azriel snorting as he finished tending to the fire.

"Cassian wants to know if I am treating you well," he told Cilla, her smile widening. 

"He's a good mate," Cilla answered, sticking her chin out like she was daring Cassian to disagree.

Cassian chuckled at Azriel's description and Cilla's fierce defence of him. "I'm glad to hear it," he managed to say, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He couldn't deny it, he was relieved to know that Cilla seemed happy, well cared for, and clearly in love with Azriel. He just hoped...she wouldn't hate him for all the time they'd missed together.

Her fingers started picking at the paper of the pastries, shredding the thin wrapping as if she was trying to give her fidgeting something to do.

Cassian cursed silently, noticing her defensive reaction. He had hoped that he wouldn't scare her off, but he could clearly see the tension in her body, the way her wings trembled just a bit as she retreated into herself.

He didn't want her to feel like he was trying to force anything on her or make up for lost time in one conversation. But he was starting to realise just how hard this would be.

"I..." he began, but the words died in his throat. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he wasn't trying to pressure her, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he just sat there, silent and unsure, watching as she continued to pick at the wrapping of the pastries.

The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable. He cursed internally, realising that he was completely out of his depths. This was not something he knew how to handle.

"Cilla," he began, trying a different approach. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, hoping to make himself appear less intimidating. "I just...I want you to know that I'm not trying to force anything on you."

He paused, waiting for any reaction from her, but her gaze remained fixed on the pastries, her fingers picking at the shredded paper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I know I wasn't there for you...all those years. And...and I can't change that. And I don't expect you to forgive me for it, either."

He waited for a response, a sign that she was even listening to him. But her wings remained tightly folded around her, her head still bowed. He could see the tension in her shoulders, and he hated that he was the one causing it.

But he forced himself to continue because he needed to say this. "I just want...I want you to know that...I'm here now."

The words hung in the air like a heavyweight. He watched as Cilla's wings seemed to shiver slightly, her shoulders hunching even more. But he refused to give up, even if the hope of getting through to her was starting to slip away.

"And I don't want anything in return," he went on. "I don't...expect anything from you. I just..." he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I just want to get to know my...daughter."

The silence settled again, and the only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft flutter of the shadows. Cassian could see Azriel's eyes watching them both from across the room, probably silently wondering if he should step in. But neither of them had any idea what to do here.

Cilla, on the other hand, was still hunched over the pastries, her wings drawn so tightly around her that she resembled a quaking leaf caught in the wind.

What could he say to a daughter he had never met? To a child, he had missed out on so much of her life?

It was Azriel who suddenly spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence. "Why don't you try one of the pastries, Cilla?" he suggested gently. His voice was soft, soothing, like a caress. Cilla's head jerked up at the sound of his voice, her wings twitching. "They're blueberry," he continued, shifting a bit closer from his position at the fireplace. “You said you like blueberry, right?” Cilla's eyes flickered towards the pastries and the mention of them being blueberry, her fingers ceasing their picking. She nodded silently, her body still visibly tense. 

"They're probably delicious," Azriel prodded, a hint of a smile in his voice. "You should try one." As if to encourage her, he picked up one of the sweets himself, holding it out to her.

Cilla's eyes flickered between the pastry and Azriel's face, clearly torn. The tension in her body didn't relent, but she slowly extended a trembling hand to take the pastry.

"There you go," Azriel murmured, placing the pastry in her palm. He carefully let go and backed off slightly, giving her space while still keeping a watchful eye.

Cilla held the pastry gingerly, turning it over in her palm, inspecting it as if it was some rare treasure. She didn't seem very hungry, Cassian noted with a pang.

It was then that Cassian realised just how thin she was. He could see the faint outline of her bones under the loose shirt she was wearing, the way her collarbone jutted out under her skin. She looked...delicate. Fragile. As if a strong wind could knock her down.

Cassian's stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt and concern. 

It felt like an eternity before she actually put the pastry in her mouth, taking a tentative and small bite. Cassian couldn't even find it in himself to feel relieved; her swallowing just made him more concerned.

Did she even enjoy it? Or was she just forcing herself to eat?

To his surprise, Cilla took another bite, her eyes fluttering closed as if savouring the taste. A small moan escaped her lips, and he could almost see the tension draining from her body as she relaxed a bit.

"Is it good?" Azriel asked a smile in his voice. Cilla's eyes opened, a flicker of surprise in them as if she had forgotten that Azriel was even there. She swallowed her bite, then nodded quietly.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of...affection, and relief, at seeing this small sign of her enjoying something.

Azriel's smile widened, the shadows around him seeming to react, shifting and dancing as he moved closer to sit beside Cilla. He placed a gentle hand on her back, and she tensed momentarily but relaxed almost immediately.

Cassian could see the way she leaned slightly into Azriel's touch, seeking comfort and reassurance from his presence.

She took another bite of the pastry, her eyes fluttering closed again. Cassian could see how the tension seemed to seep out of her body, replaced slowly by calm.

He stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the moment between the two, and simply watched as Cilla slowly started to relax, her wings losing their tension as she leaned into Azriel.

Azriel murmured something to her, his voice too low for Cassian to make out the words, a gentle reassurance, his hand gently rubbing her back. Cassian could see the shadows shifting around them, almost acting like a shield, wrapping around them like a protective coat.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight, wishing that he could be the one soothing Cilla, the one offering her comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. He hadn't expected that.

Cassian cleared his throat. "You're very welcome," he told her. Cilla looked up from the pastry, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, a flicker of something...appreciation, perhaps, in them before she looked down again.

He wrecked his brain trying to come up with another thing to say, his eyes suddenly caught on the children's book that was laid on the table.

"Did you read that?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, hesitation bleeding out of every pore.

"Azriel's shadows taught me how," she said, her voice shaking.

"They were quicker than I was," Azriel quipped.

Azriel's comment made Cilla's lips twitch into a small, shaky smile. Cassian found himself smiling faintly as well, almost touched at the idea of her learning with the help of Azriel's shadows.

His eyes, however, caught on to something else.

"They...taught you?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

He knew that the shadows that surrounded Azriel were...sentient, to a degree. But they usually kept to themselves and rarely interacted with others. So the fact that they had helped Azriel teach Cilla how to read... It was interesting, and a bit worrying.

"They said I could hear them because I was Azriel's mate," Cilla said and Azriel pulled in a sharp breath, that little tidbit of information was news to him too.

Oh well. She was a shadowsinger herself. There were definitely weirder things that happened. It was harmless. If it brought her some form of comfort...

Who knew what it meant that two shadowsingers had mated...who knew what that meant. one shadowsinger was rare, practically mythical...two? That was unheard of.

Cassian's mind raced with questions and speculations. Two shadowsingers mating... It was unheard of. The Illyrian lore had countless stories about Shadowsingers, but none about mated ones.

And what kind of powers did Cilla have, as the daughter of an Illyrian and a High Fae? What was even possible with that kind of pairing? The one example he had was Rhys...but Rhys was also High Lord...and with that came a whole different level of power.

And there was something else that he worried about... namely that Azriel had been forced into his job because of his innate abilities...and Cilla...she had the same abilities. He didn't think that Rhysand was going to be...quite as violent as his father had been...but it was very clear that Cilla had...abilities that would make her a prize in any court.

At least she had Azriel as her mate, who would gleefully slaughter anybody who thought that they should get to lay a hand on Cilla. He could see the way Azriel's eyes darkened at the mention of Cilla's abilities, the way the shadows around him shifted restlessly, as if ready to strike.

But even with Azriel's protection, there was no question that Cilla would be a...prime target for many. And Cassian hated that thought more than he'd ever imagined.

"Have you...thought about what...you would like to do? As a job?" he asked her, hating the way his voice was sounding. Like that mattered right now.

Cilla's eyes flicked up at Cassian's question, surprised at the topic. Her wings shuffled behind her, twitching as if considering his question.

"I...I used to work in a tannery" she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian could see the uncertainty in her eyes, that fear of the unknown. She had been trapped in a cage for most of her life...she had never had to think about a career.

"Did you like it?" he asked her, and she shrugged.

"It helped me survive," she said blankly. "I...it was work. It paid."

Her words made him wince slightly. She hadn't enjoyed it, that much he could tell. Cassian had to remind himself to keep his anger at bay, that this was not the time to start raging about her past.

He took a slow, measured breath. "I see," he said carefully, waiting to see if she would say more.

"I like books," she said suddenly. "I can't read...well...or fast. But I like them."

Cassian's heart ached at her words. She liked books, but she didn't know how to read...another thing that had been taken from her far too soon. He desperately wanted to reach out, to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen into her face, but he held himself back.

"That's...that's nice," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice steady.

"There is a library in the House of Wind, where Cassian lives," Azriel said quietly. "Hundreds and Thousands of books. The priestesses that work there always need help."

But it was...it would be such a good fit for her. The priestesses were traumatised in a myriad of ways and if anybody could understand what had happened to Cilla that wasn't Azriel...the priestesses probably were the ones to do it. It was...genius actually.

The priestesses at the House of Wind had a deep understanding of trauma and pain, having experienced it themselves. They had helped Nesta, and they could help Cilla, too, in ways that neither he nor Azriel could.

It was a logical solution, and the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to like it.

"We could go to visit if you wanted to," Azriel offered.

Cilla hesitated, her wings fidgeting anxiously behind her. She glanced at Azriel, then at Cassian, as if seeking reassurance.

Cassian tried to school his expression into one of comfort and warmth, though it was hard to keep the anger at her former life out of his eyes.

Finally, she nodded silently, her wings fluttering slightly in what looked like nervousness.

"I would like that."

Cilla's small voice, the words that she had managed to say, made Cassian's heart both lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter because she was slowly opening up, communicating, talking, and heavy because he could almost taste the fear in her voice.

It was a start. Something. And he cradled it close to his heart.

[yanderederee]

OMG! I was getting a slurpee from 7/11 and it made me wonder what slurpee flavor or flavors do you think each of the Tokyo Revengers boys would bring you as a treat?

This has been sitting in my askbox for like 9 months I’m so sorry

there are also endless Slurpee flavors???? I literally only ever have gotten Cherry my whole life? Sorry for the random flavor choices, these are the only ones im familiar with

Thank you for interacting this is a very cute ask!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Cherry - A true classic! These characters aren’t much for trying new things. If they like it, no need to try anything else, right? It may also be just because the other flavors sound weird too, or are broken. Cherry is a tried and true, always up and running delightful treat.

— Mikey, Kazutora, Rindou, Izana

Blue Raspberry - Also pretty tame in what flavor they will actually try. ‘Slushies only come in two genders, red and blue, and I’m blue damnit!’ - kind of vibe about it. Very fun characters though, confident in what they do and don’t like.

— Draken, Baji, Smiley, Inui, Wakasa, Senju

Mountain Dew - um. It’s easy to like, it’s easy to love. It’s a good flavor, and no one can really deny it. But when is this flavor ever available, what with the machine always busted? When they can get their hands on it, it’s like they’ve never had a slushee before. They go nuts. Crazies, but cuties.

— Chifuyu, Peh, Kakucho, Shinichiro

Cola - It just satisfies a part of you that desires a treat, but don’t really want to commit to drinking a cola-soda. After all, they can be overly syrupy, and bad for your health. Making this a great alternative!

— Takemitchi, Pah, Naoto, Benkei

Pina-Colada - A delight! These characters have probably circle through what flavors they normally get pretty often. Never getting two of the same flavor in consecutive trips, this is a good pick for a hot summer day.

— Emma, Mitsuya, Hakkai (always just gets what Mitsuya gets), Yuzuha, Ran, Ryusei

Peach - perhaps the least sought after flavor. It’s usually okay, if perhaps not very flavorful. But that’s the appeal, not too heavy on one flavor, light and delightful. Nothing against it, but they don’t think too much about getting this flavor.

— Sanzu, Angry, Hina, Kokonoi

[emmitaaa4]

Getting exponentially tired of the “elriels want 👹” posts in the elain tags where they proceed to either A) outright invent stuff B) act holier than thou about how they care so much for Elain because they C) misconstrue the little they hear from our side in bad faith, or D) just completely miss the point they’re addressing.

it’s one thing to be bitter about a ship, but geez theyre getting mad at generalizations they made up about what we think. it has to be tiring. non?

small rant beneath, just to vent. yes i know i can (& should) block certain tags, but reading frustrating content is a hobby of sorts.

Im genuinely convinced all these “ewriel”-myths they keep talking about are a result of a bad game of telephone—they hear a random thing a gwynriel says, go “they’re all stupid/delusional/immature (insult of choice) so i don’t doubt what you’re saying”, then repeat it to others.

It’s obvious by the way they wholeheartedly believe that Elain is our puritanical-warrior-self-insert we use to vicariously F Azriel (😃✋). Doesn’t help that they usually don’t look as deeply into Elain as we do & tend to get stuck on obviously superficial statements about her: they cannot seem to fathom an Elain that isn’t just a once-bright socialite wilting away sans her sun-mate. So any hint of darkness/savviness we see in her is just us moulding her into Y/N. sigh

anyways.

I can say i’ve read their posts on here, a ton prior to being involved and some now. I’ve seen their tiktoks & video essays, their powerpoints & reddit posts. i’ve seen their comments all over insta/tiktok (kinda hard to miss, they jump on elriel content with their “um shadows and um pliable bones and mates!!” comments). I am WELL aware of what the general consensus is on that side—which is why I am generally unbothered by GA, don’t mind EL, and am just peacefully sailing aboard my ship waiting for it to reach destination.

And because I care about Elain’s journey, I try to see the story the way they do when i encounter certain elucien arguments. For if i am to even just privately engage in the sHip wArs, i know to remain ✨critical✨ and ✨open minded✨.

… there’s no point turning discussions into angry posts against imaginary adversaries.

EVERY elriel i’ve talked to would read an elucien book because it is Elain’s story we are most anticipating. It’s just very telling to me that very few would do the same; that there’s not a whiff of willingness from most of them to listen to the other side.

The funny thing is that all those anti eWrieL posts** i’ve read tend to address twisted versions of “the elriel narrative.” They take things out of context, or say we have the same 3 arguments—which is genuinely insane bc if you know our ship so well, how can you be off by like 2 orders of magnitude ??? (exaggerating if it wasn’t clear, we can’t know these days).

** Their pro GA content reads very anti-Az, used to be very anti-elain, and has a narrow scope ngl. While the bonus matters, it seems like that is ALL they’ve read. They don’t think much about Elain’s journey or powers or decisions, which is just logically not the best way to analyze the series given she IS what’s to come.

✨Just some common myths they believe✨:

they repeatedly claim that elriels want poor elain to be a kickass warrior torturer to fit Az because they A) don’t actually read our stuff B) enjoy thinking we hate elain, and C) can’t fanthom that spying isn’t 007 ninja activities.

apparently we ship elriel because we think they have this big great romance OFF PAGE 😭. how in the hell— i’ll make a post on this one istg it’s lowkey funny. quick, were nessian strangers and unfeeling towards each other at the start of SF ???? damnit i must’ve missed that.

En tout cas. End of rant the rest stays in the drafts lmao.

but istg one day i’ll cave in and unleash the essays of rebuttals and psychoanalyses of their arguments / thought processes just for shit and giggles.

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: Shattered

Request: ‘Can you do a Luke x Reader imagine where they get into a really big argument but somehow it ends in fluff / Luke comforting the reader? Thank you so much!’

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: minor blood mention

Luke watched you silently as you poured yourself a glass of wine. 

It was nearing midnight, but the both of you knew that this fight wasn’t ending anytime soon. At this point in time, you had almost forgotten what you were fighting about. Only that you were frustrated, and angry- really angry.

And Luke was too.

“I just don’t understand it.” Luke let his head fall. 

You scoffed, shaking your head at him. 

“What?” he barked, “I don’t!”

“That’s because you refuse to even try to see things my way. You only ever think about yourself.”

Luke’s nostrils flare as he spoke, a hint of malice to his voice. “That’s not true.”

“It is true!” You raised your voice, your emotions getting the best of you. “You were too wrapped up in yourself tonight, to have the decency to call or text me, to let me know where you were. Instead you let me just sit here waiting. ”

“I already apologized for being late tonight, what more do you want for me?” 

“That’s not the point, Luke!” You practically screamed. “I gave up my job, my family- everything for you. So that we could move here and you could join the FBI. I did all of that, just so what? I could be stood up? So I could be waiting for you the rest of my life, wondering if you’ll ever come home at all?”

He didn't even bother to lift his gaze to meet yours.

“Now who’s being selfish?” he sneered. “Women, young girls, were getting stabbed in Charleston, and you’re seriously mad that I didn’t make it home for date night?”

For a moment, the only sound came from the choppy inhale that escaped your lips. 

Then, a tense whisper, “That’s not fair.”  But you couldn’t help the pang of guilt spreading through your stomach.   

“It was a bad one,” Luke barked. “The plane just landed. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“There’s always going to be a bad case. And another, and another, and another. It will never stop.” 

“For Christ's sake!” Luke tossed his hands up in the air. “And I’m just supposed to what? Quit? Is that what you’re asking me to do? Will that finally make you happy? Will that make you stop interrogating me every night?”

His anger only made you more frustrated- frustrated that he didn’t understand all your anger and annoyance with him stemmed from the very fact that you missed him. Every goddamn minute he was away, you missed him with everything inside of you. Why couldn’t he just see that?

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you said instead. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just love to play the hero, don’t you?  You can’t stand the fact that being good at your job makes you a shitty husband.”

Luke squinted his eyes at you. “A shitty husband?” he gawked. His lips tugged into a taunting smirk that only makes you angrier. “Right. Well let’s sit down and have that date now. What was it you had planned again? Spaghetti and a movie? Sounds romantic, really the kind of stuff to keep this marriage alive,” he yelled. His sarcasm bled through your skin and penetrated your body to it’s core.  

“You asshole!” You choked, lifting your fingers to your face. You hadn't even been aware that you had been crying all this time.

Luke slapped his hands on the counter, rattling the silverware still laid out. “You know, maybe I’d get home on time if I had something a little better to come home to!”

“You fucking–” you went to raise your hands up in frustration, but in the process you find yourself knocking into your glass of wine with force. A tug against your skin, and then a stinging sensation ripped through your hand before you even realize the glass has been shattered.  

“Damnit!” You screamed as the wine spilled everywhere. You slid down to the floor in frustration. The tears now falling down your face could be attributed to both Luke and the gash now evident on your hand. When you looked down, you saw the blood already dripping down your forearm and to the tiled floor. 

You tried to stifle the cries escaping your body, but it was no use.  You clutched your bloody hand while Luke quickly approached you.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice noticeably softer now. He grabbed the dish towel from the counter and stepped over the shattered glass to crouch down next to you. “Let me see,” he murmured gently. 

You tensed up at first and jerked your arm away. “I’m fine,” you sneered. 

But Luke was persistent. "Please don't be stubborn right now, I just want to look."

He reached out again, and once he was convinced you weren't going to tug your arm away again, grabs your wrist, causing you to expose your injury to him. You were forced to surrender under his touch with a sigh. 

Your body was still shaking from your sobs when he wrapped the towel securely around the cut, “It’s okay, it’s not that deep.”

You just nodded weakly, your sobs subsiding into sniffles. "I told you I was fine."

You watched Luke’s face intently. He frowned as he held pressure to your hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.   

You swallowed a lump in your throat and say, “Me too.” But you were still hurt, and Luke knew that.

So, he sank down onto the kitchen floor so that he was sitting beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of you. And there, in the safety of the shadows, Luke wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you against him. The moment your body was met with the warmth that radiated from his own, you immediately felt a bit more at peace. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “I didn’t mean any of that.” 

You nodded into his sweater. 

“I was just angry,” he explained. 

Luke grounded you. He was the anchor that pulled you back together when everything fell apart. 

“I’m sorry too,” you whimpered. “I just miss you- like all the time.”

You felt exhausted from all that crying. When the room was filled with nothing except for your quiet sniffles here and there, you heard his voice again.

“We should get this cleaned up,” he motioned towards your hand.  It was throbbing intensely under his touch. The decorative dish towel you’d once loved so much was now stained with your own blood. 

You exhaled a shaky sigh and nodded, letting Luke help lift you from the floor. Your knees shook when you saw the amount of blood pooled on the floor from your cut, but Luke was there to keep a steady grip on your hip. 

“How’re we doing?” he asked, clearly noticing your shakiness and fatigue. 

“I’m... okay,” you whispered unconvincingly, your voice raspy from it all. You felt his lips pressing against the top of your head and staying there. You counted five seconds until he pulled away and gave your frame a squeeze before leading you carefully over the shattered glass and towards the bathroom.  

Luke instructed you to sit on the lip of the bathtub and to hold the dish towel in place while he collected bandages and peroxide.  

You watched him as he maneuvered around the bathroom and realized that you didn’t know what you would do if he ever didn’t come home. Despite the challenges and hard work it took to make your marriage work, it would be a million times worse if he wasn’t around. 

Luke kneeled in front of you, his gentle eyes connecting with yours before he spoke. “This will probably sting a little,” he warned. He peeled back the towel, muttering a soft, “sorry,” as the fabric stuck to your skin slightly from the dried blood. When he started to pour peroxide on the cut, you hissed, grabbing his bicep with your uninjured hand.  

“There you go,” he soothed as the stinging subsided. Luke finished by wrapping the area in gauze lightly. Once the bandage was on, you pulled your arm to your chest and rubbed it.  

“Thanks.”

Luke nodded, but then there was nothing but silence between you.  

After a few seconds you opened your mouth to speak, but Luke beat you to it.

“This is all so new. My job- the traveling. But we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, because you truly believed him. You always did figure things out.  

“I’m tired," you said, your eyes feeling heavy. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not home,” you admitted, a bit shamefully. You didn’t want Luke to think that you couldn’t function without him, and you knew it was possible he’d feel a little guilty that he wasn’t around much.

Luke nodded sympathetically. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed,” he suggested. He stood up and started gathering the bloody towel and peroxide from the floor. “I’m gonna go clean up the glass in the kitchen. I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

You nodded as you stood up before turning and heading towards the bedroom. 

About ten minutes later, when you had gotten yourself settled into bed in one of Luke’s shirts and a pair of sweatpants, you heard him enter the room. You slowly opened your eyes and watched him as he peeled his shirt off and wiggled himself out of his pants. You knew you were supposed to be sleeping, but you couldn’t without Luke’s warmth. So when you finally felt his body shift the mattress and his arms wind around you, you exhaled a soft sigh of relief, you wanted to live in his arms for the rest of your life. You heard him chuckle softly in response, his legs playfully intertwining with yours.

He stayed quiet for a long time, and for a second you thought he might have already fallen asleep, until you felt his lips linger against the back of your shoulder, followed by a low whisper.

“You’re my favorite thing to come home to.”

[puppetwoman17]

Okay, so there’s this Billy Batson post-Injustice fic called A Reason to Fight on AO3, and it’s got me wanting more fics like that.

I mean, there’s so many different ways it could go.

One fic could be where he did die, and we can’t bring him back. The JL are brought back together to take on an otherworldly evil(surprise surprise) and they need the help of the gods to do it. With both conventional and unconventional means, they’re able to be granted passage to Olympus for this one catastrophic emergency(begrudgingly, because the gods sorta hate their guts).

Then they see this one glowing building, separated from the rest. It’s got a lightning bolt on it. Sparks flying around it. Gives off a less imposing vibe. There’s suspicions about what it’s for, but no one feels compelled to ask. Until a leaguer(doesn’t have to be specific, maybe Guy Gardener or Flash or whatevs) gains enough courage to ask what that place is.

The god leading them to Zeus stops dead in their tracks. They don’t speak yet. They turn and look at the leaguer who was dumb enough to ask a grieving god a question like that.

And the god replies: “The Hall of Champions is where every champion goes when they die. They are allowed to spend their afterlife in complete relaxation as the fruits of their labor. They meet others like them and forgo the troubles of their mortal lives.”

The god says that last part bitterly.

The JL immediately knows who’s inside. The building just speaks Marvel. That same stupid league member asks if they can go inside. If they can speak to one of them, no one in particular(everyone knows they’re lying, but the guilt is just too much).

The god laughs. Actually just laughs right there, in front of a bunch of mortals and super powered people who dare to think they can come anywhere near the former Champion of Magic.

The god tells them: “We granted him his wish of being part of a team because we thought it would help him through such trying times. We thought he finally had others who would look after him, something we may not always be able to do. We thought he would finally, after all these years, have something akin to family.

“And just like that, those hopes and dreams were taken away, all because our champion finally saw the light again. If you go so much as a foot closer to him, the gods of Olympus will show you the same mercy you showed your so-called teammate.”

Lol, that’s as far as I’ve gotten.

Another fic could be where he actually didn’t die, like in A Reason to Fight. He comes back to life after recharging just like in A Reason to Fight. But this time, there’s a change.

He doesn’t make himself known. He changes his identity and stays under the league radar. He doesn’t transform into Cap, but he secretly helps the people of Fawcett with his powers because BILLY was chosen, not the avatar itself.

Dunno how to go about the next part. That all depends on the plot, what characters are still alive and still dead. The timeline of when exactly he comes back and how long he stays incognito.

But somehow, someway, the League becomes aware that Marvel, that Billy, is alive. They rush to see him after (however) long. They see him alive and well…

And he’s just disgusted. Heartbroken. Scared. Angry. Tells them to f*ck off and find some other kid’s dreams to destroy. Tells them to never contact him unless it’s for business that requires the Champion’s reputation. Because despite everything, he still takes his job as Champion very seriously. Because he thought he could finally trust these adults, and they turned their backs on him.

He especially hates Superman for the looks of guilt he gives him. Just wants to punch him in the face. Same with Diana. Same with Lantern. Same with Flash and Cy. Maybe not Batman, but even association can hurt.

Again, idk where this one might go, or how the plot is or whatever, but I need more post-Injustice fics on Billy Batson damnit!

[distracteddream]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening!

This is something new that’s wormed into my brain. I know everyone has already written post-Roxxcart divorce fics but oh well. (And I said I wanted Mobius to call Loki a feckless slut.)

Behind the cut for language and angst and nonsense.

“Oh, don’t act like that. You’ve seen my life, Mobius. You know I’m a cad.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the faithlessness of a common alley cat. You’ll go to anyone who feeds your ego. Guess I didn’t think you were so ego-starved as to fuck yourself.”

Loki sits back in his chair, mouth hanging open. His surprise at Mobius’ blunt assessment just sets Mobius further on edge. Loki can’t possibly have forgotten that Mobius knows him, knows his motivations, possibly better than Loki knows them himself. Nor that Mobius wouldn’t hesitate to call Loki out like this.

“Well? Did you fuck yourself?” Mobius doesn’t really want to know the answer. At the same time, he can’t not know.

“I beg your pardon.” Loki has the audacity to look offended. “She has a name.”

Mobius grits his teeth. He’s so irritated that Loki ought to be thankful Mobius isn’t calling the Variant something much less flattering. “Answer the question.���

“And what would it matter if I did?”

“You feckless slut.” Loki’s eyes widen at the insult. Good. Mobius is so angry with him that he’s not stopping to think about what he’s saying. “What was it? I wasn’t putting out enough to satisfy you? You had to chase the first piece of ass that waltzed by? I…” His face is burning but if it’s from embarrassment or rage, Mobius isn’t sure. “I let you fuck me. Damnit, Loki! I let you and that damned silver tongue of yours talk me out of my virginity and this is how you treat me?!” God. Mobius is too old to be talking like this but he’s not so upset that he misses the way Loki’s eyes shutter at his accusation.

Loki flinches in his seat when Mobius accuses him of conning him out of his first time. Right. This makes this so much more complicated. Messy. Because Mobius thinks he was a virgin the first time they were together because that’s how he thinks the Time Keepers made him. He’d indicated as much to Loki at the time so Loki couldn’t feign that he didn’t know. But if Mobius is a Variant like himself, odds are he wasn’t a virgin at all.

And, even through all the anger and hurt feelings they’re dealing with now, Loki still finds Mobius incredibly handsome. He’s never been one for games of chance, but Loki would definitely bet on not having been Mobius’ first sexual partner.

But Mobius thinks he is and that makes this worse.

“Mobius…” Loki starts cautiously. “Mobius, there’s something you should know…”

“Yeah,” Mobius says, clearly disinterested in what he must think is just another excuse. “The answer to my question. Did you fuck your Variant?!” he asks, each word emphasized.

Loki’s stretched-thin temper snaps. “Her name is Sylvie!” Very well. If Mobius doesn’t want to hear what Loki has to say, Loki will tell him what Mobius already thinks happened. Mobius seems to assume the worst of him - and that thought stings worse than all the rest. He leans forward, his voice a vicious hiss. “And yes. Sure. I had her in every way possible, over and over. We fucked our way through an apocalypse. If she were here right now, I’d fuck her on this table right in front of you. Is that what you want to hear?”

Mobius goes pale, his grip so tight on his pencil that it’s a surprise it doesn’t break. “You’re lying,” he says tightly.

“Am I?” Loki sneers. “I fucked you into every available surface. What makes you think I wouldn’t do that to her? I’m a feckless slut, remember?”

[hanafubukki]

Something something about the way that a life that is nurtured and loved is being withered…

Okay I was going to say this calmly and nice but…

***SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE***

I WANT LILIA TO FREAKING JUST YELL AT MALLEUS AT ONE POINT, MOST LIKELY WHEN THEY ARE FACING HIS OB.

I WANT LILIA TO SAY SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF

“YOU STUPID SON OF MINE DON’T YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO HATCH YOU?!”

“AND NOW YOU ARE WASTING YOUR LIFE AWAY FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS?!”

AND FOR MALLEUS TO SAY HOW MUCH ITS NOT A WASTE BECAUSE HE WOULD’NT LOOSE HIM THIS WAY.

AND THEN LILIA TO YELL BACK THAT HE FREAKING LOVES HIM TOO AND THAT NO WAY IN HELL HE’S GOING TO LET MALLEUS BE STUPID AND SACRIFICE HIS LIFE LIKE THIS.

LIKE “HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE TO STILL MAKE ME WORRY IN MY OLD AGE YOU DUMBASS??!”

I WANT LILIA TO SAY HOW HE WIPED THAT ROYAL BEHIND OF MALLEUS’ AS A BABY AND LILIA WONT STAND HIM ACTING THIS WAY DAMNIT.

(You know that line that basically says “Your life is not only your own but the collective people that loves you.” So basically that).

(Just thinking about Lilia and Malleus and how much they care for each other and how, if I knew a person I loved was basically killing themselves over me because they love me so much. I would be surprised, filled with love, scared for them, and freaking angry! No! I won’t stand for you giving up your life for mine! …As you can see, I am very normal about diasomnia family ajdjdkfkggkk)

[espresso-ships]

Idiots - Varganardi Oneshot

AHHH my very first self insert fanfiction! I usually write x reader ones, and this is the first one I write for me ashhshs Hope y'all like it!

Words: 1.8K Warnings: Hurt/comfort & lot of cussing lol (lmk if I should add something more <3)

“Can I tell you what I think?” 

Sigh.

“...What do you think?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

Silence.

“So what? What if I am, what difference does it make?”

“Tell her.”

“You make it sound so damn easy.” He scoffed.

“Nacho, it is easy. Maybe she feels the same-”

“Feels the same?? What fucking fantasy world do you live in, huh?!”

Silence, again. 

Nacho sighed and rubbed his forehead. He felt relieved that Domingo couldn’t see his face. That he couldn’t see the tears of anger or the pain in his eyes. 

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just… Complicated.”

“I know, Nacho. But trust me. She feels the same.”

“How the hell would you know?”

Silence. Always the damn defying silence. After what felt like eternity, Domingo talked:

“Because she told me.” 

Chaos.

That’s what the mansion feels like. Drunk - or high - people everywhere. It’s a new years party, after all. The music, laughter and screams makes it feel like the house is vibrating. And the heat - from at least 50 bodies trapped together in a room with bad air conditioning, and from his own nerves. 

It feels like they’re all caged animals, locked together, waiting for tragedy. He doesn’t understand how people can enjoy being squeezed together like this - or maybe they’re all pretending. Just searching for something - someone - to fill the void.

He usually enjoys parties. He is usually one of the people dancing and laughing, with his arms thrown around a pretty stranger. Not tonight. 

Nacho fidgets with the first button to the red shirt, buttoning and unbuttoning, over and over. He has barely touched the shot in his glass. 

“Are you gonna drink that?” Domingo’s words are slightly slurred, and his grin is wide. He shouts to overvoice the music, but doesn’t seem to mind the volume. At least someone is having fun. 

“It’s all yours.” Nacho hands his friend the glass, and he empties it in only a matter of seconds. He grimaces. “You’re gonna be sick, Dom.” 

His friend rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, dad. Don’t look so bitter, man!”

Domingo nudges his friend, who rolls his eyes in return. Yet, he chuckles. His eyes wanders across the room, hoping to see his tall friend amongst the sea of people. No sign of her, so far.

“Relax, dude. She’ll be here soon!” 

I really hope so. He still has to apologize to Laura, after that ridiculous argument they had last week. 

“What did you two even fight about this time?”

Nacho’s mind goes back to the phone call with Domingo yesterday.

“It wasn’t a fight, damnit.” He sighed. “Just a… Disagreement.”

“About…?” 

“About her shit-ex. I told her she was stupid if she forgave them after everything they put her through.”

“And?” 

“I sounded too angry. She got angry, and we both said things we didn’t mean.” Talking about it made Nacho realize how shitty the situation was. He felt like screaming from frustration. “Fuck, Dom… I really messed up this time.”

“You both did.”

“Yea…” He dreads the answer, yet he asks: “When did she… Tell you?”

“Back when you dated Mona.”

“Dude, that was like 10 months ago! Why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

“Hey! I’m Laura’s friend too. Besides, she threatened to kick my ass if I told you about her feelings for you.” 

“What a damn shit show!” He cussed loudly, almost forgetting Domingo on the other line. 

“I’m sorry, man.” He sighs. “But then, Laura got together with… Them. And well, you still dated Mona back then.”

“Yea…” 

“And you seriously didn’t know Laura had a crush on you? Like, at all?” 

“No, Domingo! I didn’t.” Nacho hissed. 

“You’re a damn fool, my friend.”

“Rubbing salt in my wounds.” he muttered, frustrated by Domingo’s teasing.

“You and Laura have been dancing around each other for years. You both are idiots, y’know?” 

“I hate you. No… I hate this. This situation? It sucks.”

“I’m so sorry, Nacho.”

Silence, silence, silence. 

“So what now?”

“Talk to her, dumbass.”

And that’s the plan.

Nacho refuses to start the new year whilst being in a disagreement with his best friend. Crush. Whatever. 

“Damn, look at that girl over there!”

Nacho’s eyes follow to where Domingo’s glare is stuck. He grimaces. 

“She’s way out of your league, dude.”

Domingo scoffs and begins a long, drunken rant about something… 

That’s when he sees her. A tall figure amongst the crowd of people. Her brown wavy hair, that purple shirt he likes to see her in… And as usual, the high heels - as if being taller than him wasn’t enough. 

“Shit, there she is!” He hisses, to gain Domingo’s attention. His friend whistles loudly, and Laura turns her gaze towards them. She looks pissed with someone whistling at her like that, until realizing it’s Domingo. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

She walks up to them.

“Hey, happy almost new years.” 

She greets Domingo with a hug, and despite everything, she embraces Nacho too. He stands frozen, before slowly wrapping his arms around her. He breathes in the scent of her shampoo. Her scent. The hug only lasts for a couple of seconds, but it feels like hours. He wishes it was hours. 

“Yo, thirty minutes left until the new year! I need to find someone to kiss.” 

With that, Domingo walks off, stumbling forward onto the living room, which is used as a dance floor. And just like that, Nacho and Laura are alone.

Thank you for the support. Nacho will remember to give his friend hell for this. He turns his gaze back to her, and she gives him a sheepish smile. Her. His best friend, the girl he’s known since teen years. They’ve gone through up and down together, and shared so much. Laughter, tears, secrets… 

And there it is, the familiar heartache. The urge to run away from the situation, to flee his complicated feelings. Yet, he stands there and looks at her. They both speak, at the same time, the same words. Like they’re telepathetic. 

“I’m sorry-” Their voices harmonize. 

“You-” Again.

“You first.” Nacho is quick to say.

“You were right, Iggy.” 

I did not see that one coming - Nacho thinks. 

“I… I’ve ended it with my ex. Once and for all. They’re trash.”

“Laura… I’m so relieved to hear that.” He gathers his thoughts. “I’m sorry, too. For being so harsh on you. I just care about you, Laura.”

“I know, Iggy…” She sighs and uses the nickname that used to drive mad early on in their friendship. But now? He loves it. “I know. And I care about you. And I don’t want us to fight any more.”

“Me neither.” Everything else fades. It’s only them. Laura, and Nacho. 

Nacho and Laura. 

“We need to talk.” At the same time, again.

“Alright, this is getting creepy.” Laura giggles. “Come on, let’s head out.”

The cold night air hits them, but it’s a nice change from the warm house. A couple of lonely snowflakes fall down to the frozen grass as they walk. 

Nacho gathers his thoughts, mentally preparing for what he’s about to say - but he needs to say it. Now. 

From inside the mansion, the guests are preparing for midnight. Preparing to celebrate the new year to come. 10 minutes left. 

Laura sits down in a sunchair, next to the covered up pool. Nacho awkwardly stands next to her. 

“Hey, idiot. Sit down” Laura says, holding back a laughter. She moves to the side and pats the spot next to her. He sits down, very aware of how close they are to each other. Their legs are touching and so are their shoulders. Their exhales come out as steam in the crispy air. 

“The reason why I was so harsh, Laura, was because I was jealous. Jealous of your damn ex, because they got to call you theirs.” The words leave his mouth before he can think twice. The sound of the music inside feels louder, and he feels scared to breathe too loudly. 

“I don’t know why I said that. I’m sor-”

“I never liked Mona, because I wanted you to be with me. Not her.”

Nacho’s heart skips a beat. He stares at Laura, blinking his eyes - as if trying to process what she just said. 

They’re both silent again, but this time, it’s a comfortable silence. The beat of music echoes - or maybe it’s just the beat of his own heart. Her hand finds his, and her fingertips tap against his knuckles. He opens his hand, entwining fingers with her. 

They’re so close now. So close. Yet, he wants closer. 

“Are we done playing pretend now?” Laura asks.

“Yea. We’re done being idiots. Took us long enough, huh?”

They both grin at each other.

“Yea. You wanna head inside again?”

“Not really. Unless you have a midnight's kiss waiting for you…”

“No, you idiot.” Laura slaps his arm lightly. “Not yet, at least… Do you volunteer?”

His face heats up once again and he nods, failing at trying to act nonchalant. 

From inside the house, they hear the shouts, as the countdown begins. 

60… 59… 58… 57…

The two friends move even closer to each other - closer than they thought was possible. He can feel her hot breath against his face, and looks into Laura’s green eyes. He can almost see his own reflection in them. He squeezes her hand tighter and leans in. His focus is now solely on her, taking in details about her that he’s never appreciated before. The mole under her left eyes, the freckles on her skin, her crooked nose and the acne scars on her cheeks. 

20… 19… 18….

“You’re so damn beautiful, Laura.” He whispers hoarsely. It’s her turn to blush now, too. The intensity that she looks at him with makes him shiver.

“So are you.”

8… 7… 6… 5… 

The shouts are getting louder, yet it all seems to fade out. 

Nothing else matters - no one else matters.

ZERO.

Their lips meet, and Nacho’s hands tangle into Laura's hair, whilst her hands rest on his back. They pull on each other, trying to be as close as possible. Both of them melt into the kiss and embrace. Now that they finally have each other - no one is allowed to separate them. 

“Talk to her, dumbass”

The frustration in Domingo’s voice was clear, and even on a phone call, Nacho could almost see how he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“You really love her, don’t you?” 

Silence.

Domingo was right.

So Nacho realizes now, when he holds onto Laura. She rests her head against his shoulder, and Nacho has his arms wrapped around her. He can’t help but look at her. She is smiling, and her eyes are glued on the fireworks lighting up the sky. Realizing that he’s staring, he turns to look at the sky. 

Yeah, I love her. 

And so, he’ll tell her. Eventually. 

AHHHH I hope y'all liked it :3 This idea has been on my mind for quite a while. I really love hurt/comfort stories and realyl like the concept of Laura and Nacho being idiots when it comes to love and relationships LOL So yea - this is basically how they offically became a couple

If you made it this far - Please reblog or leave a comment and/or feedback! It would mean a lot 😭💕

Taglist 💕

@mashedpotatosinacup @jokerislandgirl32 @tireddovahkiin @sharkruss @espresso-life

@stoneshipper @sheepie-self-ships @goopships @emmamagorobisgirlfriend @sunflawyer 

DM or inbox to be added/removed! 💕

[thatfreshi]

Radio Silent (Uni AU P. 10)

tw - mentions of abuse, themes of anxiety, general insecurity

The night fizzles out the way you expect it to, disappearing without a word to your friends in the diner, letting your new, yet reluctant friend, drive you home. You'd simply deal with Shadowheart when she got back to the dorm.

Just as Astarion said, he's gone the next morning, but the two of you text quite often. He finds it easier to talk to you through pixels on a screen, where he can pretend like you're not this very real person who knows far too much about him. On the plane ride to LA, he doesn't sleep, which isn't odd for him. Instead, he thinks about the past couple of days and how you've wriggled your way into his life, into his head. Instead of trying to put his feelings into tangible sentences, he makes a playlist while waiting the hours away and catches up on some much-needed reading.

Thursday comes around, and the group is pissed at him, as you expected them to be.

"Damnit, he's the reason we picked my lunch break to do this during anyways! You think he'd at least stick to plans like a reasonable individual."

"Gale, it's not like he chose to go on a spur-of-the-moment trip to California. It's a work thing, not in his control."

You almost sound a little angry when the words come out, knowing that he's probably going through some hell that all your friends don't know about. Gale picks up on this sentiment, and leaves the conversation at that, mumbling something about how they'll all just update him on the project details later. Indeed, you all talk in the group chat with him about plans for the upcoming assignment, which he sporadically responds to. Although, he always responds to your texts, even if he ignores the group chat. Astarion argues with himself about it in his head, trying to reason with himself, saying things like 'it's just because the group chat is overwhelming.' For how good of a liar he is, he's not good at lying to himself.

Friday morning, he goes radio silent, which you're not concerned by at first. He's busy, probably busier than you've ever been in your life. Yet, he had made time to text you since Monday night. It starts to worry you when Saturday and Sunday both pass with nothing new. You hold yourself back from asking if everything's alright, knowing if something is stressing him out it's probably better to just let him deal with it and get back to you. And yet, you don't talk to him until he's back, and you're not even the first one to hear that he's back on campus.

"Oh yeah, I saw him in the elevator earlier. Tried being nice like you said, I even waved! You should be proud. Doesn't seem like he appreciated it though."

Shadow rolls her eyes, almost covered by her bangs that she desperately needs to trim. You're not sure exactly why, but you rush to his dorm room, knocking frantically. It's Monday night, which is surprising. You could've sworn he said he'd be back Tuesday morning, but maybe you misremembered. The door creaks open.

"Oh, hello Tav."

Astarion's eyes are weary, which you chalk up to not being able to sleep on the plane.

"Hello? You haven't texted me since Thursday, what the hell? I thought you like died or something."

"Nope, not dead, very much alive. Got wrapped up in some work affairs over the weekend, fashion people can be quite dramatic. Either way, I apologize. I'm still quite new to the 'having a genuine friend' thing."

"Well, how's your arm?"

He scoffs.

"It's... it's fine. Weird to have someone ask."

At this point, he's opened the door and let you in. You're welcomed to a sight of half un-packed luggage and a stack of leather binded books on the coffee table.

"Holy shit Astarion, did you rob a bookstore while you were in California?"

"Nope, all from the library. Missing out on a week of school when you're a senior here comes with its disadvantages. For example, I have had no time to work on my thesis essay, and I've barely even unpacked from the trip itself. Although, I did snag this."

He takes out a garment bag that has been carefully finessed to fit in his suitcase without wrinkling whatever is hidden inside. His fingers nimbly move to unzip the bag, revealing a white faux fur coat.

"Now, do I wear too much white? Absolutely, but passing up on this? I could never."

You almost feel bad, not knowing anything about clothes or what makes them cool, but to your credit, you know it's a nice coat. He slips it on, happy with his latest thievery.

"Well, what do you think? Is it stunning, or is it stunning?"

In that moment, while you're about to make some quip like 'go look for yourself, you realize he has no mirrors in the dorm, not even in the bathroom that you've only ever caught a glance of.

"I would say look for yourself, but you don't have any mirrors. That's shocking."

"Well, I had the one in the bathroom removed. Guess I'm just not particularly a fan of reflections."

"How come?"

He stares at a detail on the sleeve of the coat.

"You get tired of seeing your face after a while."

"Well, I think it looks fabulous, and so do you."

"Wish I felt just as fabulous."

He lets out a small laugh, shrugging his way out of the blinding fabric. There's something left unsaid in the air, you can feel it as he goes to hang up his new treasure.

"What really happened this weekend?"

Astarion tenses, almost dropping the hanger he so delicately placed the jacket on.

"I... I'd rather not say. I know I told you a lot the other night, but there are truly some things best left as skeletons in the closet. Maybe in time, but not today. I can't today."

"That's okay. I was just worried, that's all."

"Funny, I'm so used to people prying all the time. It's pleasant, getting to have secrets when I talk to you."

He comes back out into the living room.

"Would you like to stay for a while? You don't have to help unpack or anything, just be here."

"Sure, as long as you don't mind. And I would gladly help you unpack. Besides, you have a master thesis to get back to."

"I suppose I do. Thanks, I won't forget this."

"What, like you need to trade some favor back or something? Because that's not necessary."

"You're too nice for your own good."

The pale man puts some soft R&B on, and the two of you go ahead and start putting all his things away. Although, he doesn't let you handle any of his nice clothes. You learn that the hard way when he bats your hand away from a pair of very expensive jeans.

"They're just jeans, I promise I won't taint them!"

"Yes, they are just jeans, but they're also 800-dollar jeans, and I am not risking it."

You continue to ask him about various articles of clothing, what shoots he took them from. He remembers every single one. Although, he does skip out on some details, brushing past parts of his tales without a second thought. You don't mind though, knowing it's probably just things he isn't ready to talk about. At some point you become distracted by the stack of books on the nearby table, and start looking at all the titles. They're all related to ethics, morality, or philosophy in some way, but particularly focused on the psychology of abusers and the abused.

"I thought you weren't a philosophy person?"

Astarion's voice almost makes you jump, taking you out of reading the back of one of the books.

"Is this what you're doing your thesis on?"

"I mean I'd like to, but I'm still not sure. Feel as though the head of the department will be surprised when I present it to him."

"How come?"

"Because I've always made my projects, lifeless, I guess. I've always written and studied by the book, never touched on emotional topics. Just don't want people asking questions."

"So, what specifically are you going to look into?"

"The philosophy of abusers, how power imbalances change our moral codes, that kind of thing."

You lightly place the book back in the stack.

"I think you should do it. If anyone asks, just say you were curious about it."

"That's true, I am known to be quite curious. Now, are you going to help me with the rest of this, or have you given up?"

The night passes by too fast for his liking, as the two of you talk while he prepares for the week ahead. It's past midnight when you finally check your phone, seeing that you've received a couple of cheeky messages about your absence from Shadow.

"Is it late already?"

Astarion checks him phone as well.

"Perhaps it's time for you to go get some sleep darling. After all, not everyone is as extreme of an insomniac as I am."

"Yeah, I guess I should probably get back. Happy you're back though, and that you're okay."

Without really thinking about it, you go for a side hug, and make your way to the door.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow Tav."

And his smile is warmer than normal, knowing there's something to look forward to after a torturous night of barely any sleep. Maybe opening up to a single soul isn't so bad after all.

[inastarlesssky]

More Dreamuse thoughts because I had some realizations I came to. This scene is living rent-free in my head and I've just had some thoughts so have this is in mind, k?

Dream: The last time I saw you, you said you would never speak to me again. Calliope: I'm sorry, I had I did not know where else to turn. Dream: You misunderstand me. [steps ever so slightly closer to her] When I heard you call to me, even after all this time...let me help you. Please.

So because of a recent fixation upon The Sandman Netflix series, and after watching the series all the way through, I've started thinking about Dream of the Endless and turning over in my head the little details one can pick up on while watching the episodes. Just personally, I tend to think (a little too much probably) on things but when something catches my attention, well, all the more so.

That being said, in the first few episodes, I observed that Dream's reactions or emotional responses weren't...hm very strong, per se. Or rather, he might not always have shown on his face the emotion you can clearly hear in his voice. I thought that was really interesting because, well, as human beings, if someone's angry/sad/hurt, you will more often than not see that in a facial expression (granted, of course, people are different, and some are more expressive than others....I'm not trying to make a universal statement here, just making comparisons). Note that Dream of the Endless is not human. He is an anthropomorphic entity that according to Tom Sturridge is basically (damnit I can't remember how Tom said it in the interview) the collective unconsciousness of the world--dreams and dreaming and all that.

He's not human. Which means he will, accordingly, react to and perceive and experience things in ways different to us human beings. Keep that in mind.

It seemed to me a little subtle reminder to me of exactly that, he's not human. He's distant in a way. He definitely does still feel things, very strongly sometimes even. But his way of expression is different. Anyway, I digress.

So on a lovely server I just joined, I posed this question and the folks there pointed out that it's true, Dream doesn't necessarily vocalize an emotional response, but if it's very strong or boils over, then yes. Now I take 'vocalize an emotional response' in two ways:

saying "I feel [angry/sad/frustrated/insert whatever emotion]"

Showing in a change of the tone of voice or making some sort of comment that will give insight related to said emotional response

I've never seen him do the first and we shouldn't, because that doesn't make for very good storytelling. The showing is more frequently better than the telling, I believe. But I want to draw your attention to the second point, and most specifically to that scene when he's talking to Calliope shortly before he ruins Arthur Madoc's life.

She tells him about her plight, and he responds by saying he'll take care of everything she's asked him to, basically. She frowns at this and asks him, "Why? Because I was once yours?" He answers with a quiet, "Because he hurt you" and then continues with the quote I put at the beginning of this spiel.

"The last time I saw you, you said you would never speak to me again." - Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm imagining things. But I could have sworn I noticed a little, almost imperceptible change in his tone when he delivered this line. Without knowing any of the history they had (I know a little bit more now than I did then... but in that moment, no), I could tell that this was something painful for him. Something he'd been hurt by. (I know that it's all just 'poor Morpheus', they both suffered, and they were both hurt, and I could go off on a whole 'nother thing for that)

But my point is that, he's hurt. He mentions this to her, not directly telling her that, but reminding her of what she'd said to him so many years ago. Something that wounded him. Despite that, he has willingly and most readily come to her assistance when she called him.

That's it. Just offering that up for consideration.

[toomanyfandoms-notenoughfics]

Celestial Beings

Chapter Seven: New Faces

Characters: Reader, Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Kreatcher, Alecto Carrow, Nymphadora Tonks, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger

Summary: With the keen eye of Kreatcher an intruder is found, and all before an interesting breakfast.

Word Count: 2,819

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Torture, Use of a paralyzing spell

Reminders: @rainychaosmiracle

A/N: Hi guys, I meant to post a lil update the other day but completely spaced. I think I'll be moving my posting days to Sunday rather than Fridays, it's easier for me to keep up with.

Sirius called for Kreatcher as soon as (y/n) left his room. The house elf instantly appeared, rubbing his eyes, tired. He glared up at his master, very obviously displeased with being woken up.

“There’s a mirror on the floor down the hall, Kreatcher. I need you to put it in the off-limits room downstairs.” Sirius ordered.

“Whatever you say, Master Black.” Kreatcher snaps his fingers and vanishes, coming back nearly instantly. “There isn’t any mirror, sir.”

“What? I saw it, (y/n) even kicked it away from me.” Sirius looked puzzled, running a hand through his hair. “Check again Kreatcher, check the entire house for it.”

“Any old mirror, sir?” Kreatcher raised an eyebrow.

“No, small, hand-held. Possibly silver.” Sirius instructed. “Something you’ve not seen before.”

“Sirius, what if only (y/n) can see it, or make it seen?” Remus thought aloud.

“I’ll see what I can find,” Kreatcher muttered, vanishing once more.

“She was the only one that could hear it, she found it in a section of the hall not commonly used, she’s the one that moved it before you could touch it.” Remus scratched his head. “Sirius, if You-Know-Who knows she’s not being tortured anymore, that she’s at least partially cooperating, he won’t just be angry with her…”

“He’ll be enraged. And with the sight she has, he’ll do his best to drive her towards him somehow, but not without punishing her first.” Sirius sighed. “How are we supposed to fight against something neither of us can see?”

“That’s not entirely true though is it?” Remus plopped down into the old chair (y/n) had previously been sitting in. “You saw it when you were reaching for it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing it after I got her to stand up.” the dark-haired man grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey out from his desk, sitting in the wooden chair. “Actually, the only time I saw the mirror was when she kicked it away.”

“Were you touching her?” Remus asked, stretching his legs out. “You told me you were trying to comfort her at first, so she could tell you what was wrong. How?”

“I hugged her, my hand was still on her shoulder when she kicked it away.” Sirius realized. “Of course, why would he trust what she told him about seeing the spells when he could just as easily see them himself by using her.”

“That’s why she’s important to him. But why would he want the Order to take her prisoner?” Remus scratched his chin. “We know Lucius is the one who tipped us off, we’ve never been able to find her before. So what did he need her gone for, or rather need her to be here for?”

“(Y/n) has been in a cell until yesterday.” Sirius was perplexed. “She could only see the barrier spells we had, so far that’s all she’s seen. What good could that do?” the men both sat in silence, trying to figure out what could possibly be the Dark Lord’s motive for letting his own daughter get kidnapped.

They both ended up falling asleep in their respective chairs, Sirius halfway flopped over onto the desk, the bottle of whiskey still in his hand. Remus had laid his head back against the wall, his mouth slightly agape, snoring softly. They were both awoken by Kreatcher’s return, making both men jump awake. Sirius knocked the whiskey over, spilling the remainder onto the floor.

“Damnit!” he grabbed a dirty towel and started soaking it up off the wooden floor. “What’d find Kreatcher?”

“No unknown hand-held mirrors, Master Black,” Kreatcher reported, holding up a small wriggling bag. “However I did find a pest. A small field mouse, quite far from home.”

“Animagus or mouse?” Remus asked, leaning forwards.

“Not certain. Found her hiding in a spot she shouldn’t have been able to get to though.” the house-elf handed Sirius the bag, backing away quickly. Sirius dumps the mouse out of the bag onto his hand, grasping it quickly.

“Homenum Revelio!” Remus casts, his wand pointed at the small creature. Suddenly a woman appears, growing out of Sirius’s hand and falling to the ground. “Petrificus Totalus!”

“Merlin’s beard! Is that, no it couldn’t be. Alecto Carrow, of course.” Sirius stood up, hoisting the angry-looking woman onto her feet. “Now, how about you explain what it is you’re doing here, in my house?”

“What do you think I’m doin, fucking blood traitor?” she sneers, glaring daggers at him.

“Sirius, perhaps we should get her downstairs?” Remus urges, looking at her nervously. “If, if a certain someone sees it could turn pretty badly.” he nods his head towards the wall against (y/n)‘s room.

“Kreatcher, take Ms. Carrow downstairs. Put her in the cell, make sure she can’t escape in any way.” Sirius barks at his house-elf.

“Sure thing, Master Black.” the house-elf grumbles, looking quite upset. He grabbed Alecto’s arm, vanishing quickly.

“I think it’s time we make up Molly, don’t you?” Remus says fixing his ruffled shirt.

“Better tell her she has someone else to make food for. What are we going to tell (y/n)?” Sirius asked. “We’ll have to, can’t exactly preach about honesty and doing the right thing if we can’t do it either.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth, Kreatcher caught an intruder.” Remus shrugged, opening the door and walking out into the hall. “We put them in the cell and will question them later, after they’ve had some time to stew.”

“So, you want to leave out the important parts, such as who it is and what they were most likely doing here?” Sirius rolled his eyes. “And people think I’m the sketchy one.”

“Don’t judge, she just still isn’t quite sure who she is yet. I don’t want her to feel pressured to make a choice too soon.” Remus explains, lowering his voice as they pass by (y/n)‘s room. “You should’ve seen them yesterday after they accidentally woke your mother’s portrait… she’s in a delicate place. And with what happened last night, she’s got more than enough to worry about.”

“You’re right.” Sirius gave in. “If Alecto is here, her brother probably isn’t far behind. We’ll have to eventually let her go if we don’t want the entirety of You-Know-Who’s army on us.”

“We can let her go later tonight, oblivate all her memories of Grimwald Place and leave her in the Forbidden Forest.” Remus suggests. “See what we can get from her first, which won’t be much.”

“Yeah, but anything is better than nothing,” Sirius says, heading up a flight of stairs and knocking on Molly Weasley’s door. After a few minutes of waiting she comes to the door, rubbing the crusties out of her eyes and yawning.

“Remus? Sirius? Is something wrong?” she asked.

“We have another guest in the basement, Alecto Carrow,” Sirius tells her. “Also, (y/n) had an ‘incident’ earlier tonight.”

“An incident?” Molly quirks an eyebrow. “What kind of incident? She didn’t let Carrow in did she?”

“No, no, not at all,” Remus assures her. “Rather when she was going to bed she heard whispers, followed them, and found a mirror with You-Know-Who staring directly at her.”

“You mean, he knows she’s not in the basement anymore?” Molly seems more alert. “Is she okay?”

“She isn’t, not that she’ll admit it to either us or herself right now.” Sirius sighs. “And we think that he might’ve been banking on that somehow, though we aren’t sure why.”

“What time is it?” Molly asks, pushing past the two men. “Tonks said she would be here by breakfast today. And with what you’ve just told me, we could use her help.”

“I’m not sure, three? Four maybe.” Remus guesses, lifting his watch up to check. “I was close, it’s a quarter to four in the morning.”

“Right well, I’ll head downstairs and start on breakfast for everyone. You two should go check the defenses. I’m assuming one of you has a plan for our friend in the basement?”

“We’re going to obliviate her tonight, drop her in the Forbidden Forest,” Sirius confirms for her. She nods, heading down the stairs, using her wand for light. Sirius looks at his friend. “I’ll check the top floors, you check the bottom?”

“Meet you in the dining room in an hour.” Remus heads down the stairs, his wand in hand.

(Y/n) headed down the stairs as soon as the sun hit the top of her door. She hadn’t slept much, at most she had an hour she believed. The dining room was mostly empty, only Ginny was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper aloud so her mother could hear. She gave (y/n) a small wave. Molly placed a basket of freshly made croissants on the table, giving (y/n) a sweet smile.

“I didn’t hear you come in, (y/n).” The older woman said, brushing her hands onto her apron. “Have a seat, everyone else should be down shortly. Oh, we also have another member of the Order joining us today.”

“She’s great, you’ll love her,” Ginny said, grabbing a croissant. “She’s a little strange though, at least most people seem to think so.”

“Okay.” (Y/n) sat down in the same place she had been the night before.

“You alright, dear?” Molly asked, looking worried. “If you’re not feeling up to it I can always bring you breakfast in bed.”

“I’m fine.” (Y/n) forced a tired smile onto her face. “Just not used to sleeping in an actual bed again is all.”

“Are you sure?” the older woman walked over to her, putting her hand on (y/n)‘s forehead. “You don’t have a fever… if you swear that you’re fine, you’re fine I guess.” she leans in close enough to whisper in the young woman’s ear. “Remus and Sirius told me about last night, just let me know if there is anything I can do, okay?”

“I promise, I’m fine.” (Y/n) avoided eye contact, her face reddening.

“Morning, Ginny. Molly.” Remus said entering the room, pausing when he saw (y/n) in her seat. “Morning (y/n), how’d you sleep?”

“Not used to the bed yet.” she lied smoothly, not looking at him directly. “Morning George, morning Fred,” she told the twins as they entered in behind Remus.

“Morning.” They said in unison.

“Is she here yet?” Fred asked his mother, a hopeful look on his face.

“Not yet, should be any minute though,” Molly told him, heading back towards the kitchen. “Ginny, would you mind helping me with the rest of breakfast?”

“Coming!” Ginny hopped out of her seat, handing her brothers the paper. Hermione and Ron walked in soon after, wishing everyone good morning as they took their own seats.

“Good morning Weasleys, morning Remus!” a woman with pink hair exclaimed as she entered, followed closely by Sirius. “A new face, you must be (y/n).” she held her hand out. “Name’s Nymphadora Tonks, but everyone just calls me Tonks.”

“Hi.” (Y/n) carefully shook her hand. “Uh, nice to meet you?”

“You sure put the “Mad” in Mad-Eye’s nickname, huh? Merlin, he wouldn’t stop complaining, hell he’s still complaining.” Tonks laughed. “And of course, I’m the one that has to listen to it all. Last time I apprentice under someone with the title “mad” in their nickname, huh? Just non-stop; “She won’t say a word, only laughs when I try to get information from her. I’ve been interrogating her for weeks, and still haven’t learned a thing! If i could just find some way to prove to her that it’s in her best interest to cooperate, oh I’ll be the happiest person alive!”

“Tonks, I don’t think this is an approp-” Remus starts, but Tonks waves him off, not listening.

“I tried to tell him, you know. You’re You-Know-Who’s kid, of course you aren’t gonna crack under torture.” Tonks munches on a croissant, leaning back in one of the seats. “I told him, you’re gonna have to get creative. Think outside of the box.”

(Y/n)‘s face must’ve given her thoughts away, Sirius putting his hand on her should as she abruptly stood up. Tonks’s smile fell and she pointed her wand at (y/n) defensively. (Y/n) pushed Sirius’s hand away, glaring at him and storming out of the room. Remus shot Tonk’s a glare, shaking his head at her.

“I tried to warn you, you don’t know what all Moody did to her down there. Hell, I doubt we know everything either.” Remus growled. Sirius chased after (y/n), following her into the hallway.

“Hey, I’m sorry about her. She doesn’t mean anything by it-” Sirius starts apologizing.

“Why does everyone always have to bring it up?” (Y/n) turns towards him, tears in her eyes, fists balled up. “Every time I’ve met someone after I graduated, it’s been brought up. No one ever can ignore the fact that he’s my father. As if I had a say in the matter!”

“(Y/n)…” Sirius says softly, looking at her carefully.

“And then gloating about how she was the one that pushed Moody to ��get creative”? Just icing on the fucking cake.” she paced up and down the hall. “Even Lucius wouldn’t have gone as far as Moody did. Stealing memories from someone who can’t defend themself? It’s low, like something my father would think of low. And she’s laughing about it? To my face?”

“She doesn’t know. Not all of it at least.” Sirius tells her, stopping her in her tracks. “We haven’t had the chance to tell her yet. Didn’t want to risk anyone other than the Order finding out.”

“What?” she is taken aback, not sure what to say. Sirius steps towards her, closing the distance.

“Tonks doesn’t know about what Moody did. I doubt he even told her exactly what he did in his “interrogations”. She just doesn’t have the best of social skills.” Sirius explains. “She means well, truly, she just isn’t the best with expressing it.”

“Does that include pointing her wand at me?” (Y/n) spits back. “Or was that part of her charm too?”

“No, that was out of line.” Sirius agrees. “I’ll have a talk with her later about it.” They were both quiet for a moment. “C’mon, let’s go eat breakfast. Just let me know if you need a second okay?”

“Fine, but I’m not talking to her.” (Y/n) huffs, reluctantly heading back into the dining room. Everyone was quiet when she entered, Tonks was sitting at the farthest end of the table from(Y/n)‘s seat. Remus flashed (y/n) a small smile, pulling out her chair for her as Molly placed the last plate of food onto the table.

Breakfast was painstakingly slow, with very little chit-chat. Hermione and Ginny spoke in hushed tones, eyeing Tonks and (y/n) while talking. (Y/n) barely ate any food, mostly just moving it around on her plate. Sirius and Molly both tried to get a conversation going, to no avail. Tonks avoided looking anywhere near (y/n)‘s direction the entire time.

(Y/n) rushed out as soon as Molly grabbed the first of the dishes from the table, making her way up the stairs and to her room. She quickly shut the door and grabbed a book she had started reading, perching on the bench by the window. She ignored the knocks at her door, not wanting to face the reality that was on the other side of it. No one knew that she had heard them earlier this morning, talking about Alecto Carrow being the new guest in the basement, their plans to obliviate her memories of this place.

Knowledge at this point felt like the ultimate bane of her existence, a curse worse than anything her father could think of. She knew no one found the mirror last night, as it was currently sitting in her desk drawer, the bright purple glow seeping through the cracks. She didn’t remember putting it in there, let alone leaving her room to grab it. The whispering was muffled, still not quite making sense. She wasn’t sure how to get rid of it, every time she thought about it she felt like her head was going to explode, a pain like a red-hot fire poker directly behind her eyes.

The same pain happened when she thought about telling someone about the mirror and its location. She wanted to, desperately, she wanted to tell them everything but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The pain was too immense and the guilt of lying to them was starting to become just as bad. She felt like she wasn’t worth all the trouble everyone was going through, trying to make her feel safe and not judged. What was the point if all she brought was problems and more lies?

~~{𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯}~~

[bunniebubbleswrites]

Mon Amour

Student! Larissa Weems x F! Reader

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! I got it out just in time!

Warnings: Fluff it's just pure fluff.

Words:1005

The Valentines Day dance, the thought of going without a date made you not want to go at all but you had promised Morticia that you would at least make an appearance so you buried your feelings and now here you were standing in front of the mirror in your dorm room. 

The pink dress you wore was so long it almost covered your feet, your shoulders were exposed and the sleeves -if not for all the tulle- was just one big strip of fabric. You fussed with the loose strands of hair in front of your face and made sure the braids you had pinned up would stay where you wanted them to, you hadn’t tied off your braids so you hoped that the bobby pins would hold. 

Sitting down on the edge of your bed you grabbed your heels, the same shade of pink as your dress. You took one last look in the mirror on the way to the door and realized you had forgotten to put your earrings on. Sighing you walked into the bathroom and as soon as you had one earring on there was a knock at the door.

“Tish, I’m coming, just give me a second.” You walked towards the door as you were putting on the other earring. You grabbed your small handheld bag and opened the door. 

“Ok, let’s get this done and over with.” You said as you came face to face with a gorgon boy standing with flowers in his hands. His smile dropped as those final words fell from your lips. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t directed towards you. I think you have the wrong room.” 

“You are (Y/N) right?” He seemed hopeful. A little too hopeful. Damnit Tish

“Yes, I am. Did Morticia send you?” You asked, you were going to kill her. 

He nodded and handed you the flowers. You put on your best smile as you put the flowers down on your dresser. You stepped out of the room and walked down with him. 

Your date said he was going to get some punch for the both of you. You used that chance to slip away and find your friend. In the sea of students you bumped into someone. They wrapped their arms around your waist to keep you from falling. You looked up at who it was.

“Larissa, Hi” Your voice went at least an octave higher. You had had a crush on Larissa since the first time you spoke to her. She smiled at you. God, her smile. Could anything be more perfect?

You grabbed her shoulder and pulled yourself up but her arms remained around your waist. Suddenly you forgot about your so-called date and your anger directed towards Morticia. 

“(Y/N), there you are. I was wondering when you were going to show up!” You and Larissa quickly pulled away from each other. You dusted off your dress trying to cover something up.

“Yes Tish, I made an appearance and I don’t appreciate you setting me up with a guy I don't know.” Your anger returning. Morticia didn’t seem phased but Gomez flinched just slightly at your angry tone. 

Morticia pulled you by the arm and dragged you away from Larissa and onto the dance floor. Hours of awkward dancing later you managed to sneak away and outside for some fresh air. 

“Hey, I noticed you slipped away. Is everything okay?” You recognized the voice, you turned and leaned against the balcony. 

“Yea I guess. I had told Morticia that I didn’t want to go without a date but she managed to convince me. Then that gorgon boy showed up at my dorm room and I didn’t know what to say.” You let out a pitiful laugh and you moved your hair out of your face. 

“Is there anyone you had wanted to go with?” Larissa sounded nervous, something that didn’t happen very often. 

“Yes actually, this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her since the first time we spoke.” You looked down at your shoes. Larissa’s silence urged you to continue.  “It’s you Larissa. I wanted to go with you.” Your voice grew timid and your face grew even redder than the paper heart decorations. 

“Really!? You, out of all the people at this school, you wanted to go with me.” It seemed as if she thought you were joking.

“Mon amour, I’ve had a crush on you since we spoke for the first time.” You took her hands in yours and smiled up at her. Time seemed to stop between the two of you. She pulled you closer and quickly moved her arms to wrap around your waist for the second time that night. 

You reached your hands up to her cheeks and pulled her down to let your lips meet with hers. You pulled back from the kiss.

“Oh god, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.” You looked up at her. It took her a few seconds to recover from the initial shock. Once she recovered she leaned back down and enveloped you in a kiss and you immediately kissed back. You let your arms go to wrap around her neck.

You both pulled back, both of your chests heaving up and down. 

“Larissa, I know this is really sudden but seeing as we just kissed. Would you like to be my girlfriend?” You asked while giggling, but how could you not be. You had just kissed your crush. 

“(Y/N) I would love to be your girlfriend.” Larissa answered with no hesitation.

“Happy Valentine's Day Larissa.” You said as you put your head on her shoulder, and let your arms go back around her neck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day love.” Larissa said as she kept her arms wrapped around your waist. 

You both started to slowly sway to the muffled music that played from inside the school. This was one of the best Valentines you’ve ever had and probably not the best to come.

[theghostbunnie]

A concept I was yapping about in a server a few months ago I think I should share here copy n paste style bc I kinda cooked w it

Nurf thinking him and Ered were good friends but Ered veiwing him with the same closeness she views the rest of the campbell kids like "yeah we're all friends" but he's like but I thought *we* were friends together, like Nerris and Harrison and Preston? Like Max Nikki and Neil? Like -

"Dude you're just listing parties of three,"

"I'm listing people who were *closer* Ered"

And she's just secretly awkward like wtf do you want from me? What do you want me to say? You were..a different kind of annoying than the rest sometimes, maybe less? Constantly trying to challenge me to bets n shit was atleast entertaining?? I'm not gonna poor my heart out to you just because you ask me to. Wanna go have therapy in the open woods for children to laugh at??? Wanna make a big blow out scene??

But she doesn't actually SAY any of that she just thinks it and gives him absolutely nothing to work with and Nurf just feels more alone than before, literally all he wants is a friend and the one he thought he had apparently didn't view him to the same extent and it makes him feel so shitty.

And maybe he could chalk it up to "Ered's just like that" but if I may be really silly and say in this concept she's become friends with Tyrone n Mitchell already Nurf just feels straight up *replaced* and takes it out on those two FREQUENTLY keeping his real feelings as to why he's being a dick a secret for once.

He goes to punch somebody else and it's a whole monologue first how this is bc of his dadBut he just *insults* these guys and doesn't even laugh at his own words like he usually does after.

And it doesn't even!!!!! Effect them!!! And it pisses him off worse!!! Even using the most petty tactic he still can't get any of them to hurt like he does and it's so frustrating.

Mitchell n Tyrone (I'm picturing this was a years worth ongoing problem or they were already in a HS AU)) pick up on something being off and finally get Ered to give some information and like girl no wonder the guy has been a total angry piss baby I'd feel terrible too if the one person who was the most regularly talking to me and sitting with me all summer only saw me just as important or lack there of as everyone else.

"You're saying it like I hate him, I don't, but I am getting irritated with this whole thing.. I'm not gonna start being MORE of his friend because he's throwing a fit"

Tyrone's like "but he's really not..? He's been leaving you alone now if you hadn't noticed, and mostly just saying the odd insult to us."

Mitchell: "You don't have to be his friend if you don't want to be that's your right."

Ered: "THANK you. Finally someone says it."

Mitchell: "But he gave you *his* friendship for a very long time and you did sort of spit on it. There's kind of a obvious reason he respected you enough to never make you a target"

"Because I'm technically top dog and he's two notches away from bottom dog, socially atleast."

"Because he *cherished your companionship,* Ered. He's pretty fuckin' equal opportunist if you haven't noticed."

Ered, starting to realize: "..............crap" bc!! Damnit Nurf is a sweetie under all his layers and she knows that and the guilt of hurting him is kinda weighing.

Ered leaves to go talk with him and Tyrone and Mitchell have what I think is a little funny interaction where Mitchell light heartedly is making a comment on the exchange they just had.

" 'top dog' no way she just said that, what is this, prison?? Did I wake up in *prison*?"

Tyrone, just as confused, speaking over him agreeingly: I know I know

And Nurf's just sitting in his room when his mom announces he has a friend here and he's like 'whuh' and Ered just. Steps in and stands there.

".. what do you want.?" Bc when she DOES talk to him to hang out, it's something she wants to do, *he's* stopped initiating things. And Ered has multiple people she's "not really close with but she calls over to do specific hobbies with" since she has so many hobbies.

"Just here to talk."

Okay now she has his attention did somebody fucking die what

"I haven't been a good friend to you." She states it pretty neutrally and flatly like everything she says

Nurf's just looking at her. Girl it is a Thursday afternoon on god's green earth he is trying to do his homework rn. Half of the awnsers atleast.

She doesn't even say sorry. That was just the statement she knew was true now. "If you would like,,.. I can be a better one." She looks over once then nods her head simply.

"You're offering to be my friend just straight up like that?" Is this kindergarten.

"Feel free to decline, man." She shrugs, still neutral.

"No,no I'm not saying that" he puts his pencil down. "Can I just get an honest awnser why I wasn't one to you before?"

Ered sighs. "Promise not to tell?" Speaks a little quieter.

And he is listening SO HARD!!!!!!!

Ered inhales rlly slowly, sticks her hand out to reintroduce herself.

"Meredith Miller.

__Everything I do is to protect myself.__"

He just makes a little bit of a face like go on elaborate on that for me he is so confused and so intrigued and by what he's ASSUMING so far should he be offended.

"You're alot better person than you were back then, people don't give you enough credit for that."

The simultaneous embarrassment of remembering his hardcore bully era and the flattery of a genuine compliment like that being so rare from Ered to anyone.

"And I couldn't trust you that well then as I think I could now. Most of my friends sort of just learn this out themselves slowly but you're not going to unless I spell it out I guess. I'm not a vulnerable or open person, like, at all? Everything I do is to hide I'm flawed. Even *capable* of flaw. I build a reputation, so when I do make little mistakes, or have little quirks, people think I'm doing it ironically, or something, so people just *always* have the best assumptions of me. I abbreviate words over text I don't know how to spell off the top of my head and people think I'm just being cool. I still like how Capri moon tastes and people think I'm just too cool to even care what I have to drink because I'm so above judgement."

"So you're just.. constantly pretending?"

"No, ..sort of."

"I do it so I *can* be myself without it tanking how people veiw me, an actual genuine image of what I am I just work hard to make sure people are *nice* about it. Most of them atleast." Like a safety net built from a good reputation.

"Bigger mistakes though.. people turn on me.

And you were always turned against everyone, dude"

"Sorry.."

"It's fine. We've all got our methods." She understands his behavior comes from a really similar place.

"Nothing I said leaves this room." Pats her hand to his doorway twice as she walks out of it. "See you around."

"..... CAN WE GO BOWLING SATURDAY?"

Ered sort of stops herself mid-way going out the front door. "...Sure!" And is a little surprised he already wants to chill with her

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

THE VOID STOLE THE ASK SO IMMA RECAP AND POST ANSWER

The ask was about a defiant Darling and Yandere Ganondorf and maybe Vlad Masters, where the Darling was a spitfire and was tired of being kept trapped away. She's willing to be in the relationship! She will make it the healthiest he's ever been in! JUST LET HER DO THINGS AND SEE SUNSHINE AND BE HEALTHY ABOUT THIS DAMMIT. SHES A SPICY LITTLE KITTEN AND WILL BITE!

Some of the ask by @aikoiya, kinda changed a bit:

((Like, They are yandere af, but & this totally befuddles him beyond imagination, but she basically just sort of deep heavy sigh "Okay, I can see that there's no getting outta this & I am legitimately concerned for your mental health, so I'm gonna just accept that this is my new lot in life & do my best to try to get some therapy into your ill-socialized head."

But also, "Damnit, you call me your Darling/girlfriend/fiancée/wife & keep me locked up?!?! You walnut, you better start treating me like a precious Darling or I will make sure you regret it!!!"

Like, she gets so flipping angry that he's trying to keep her inside like a dang house pet & will make this fact known!

He gets upset about her trying to escape & she just looks at him like, "TO TOUCH GRASS & FEEL THE SUNSHINE ON MY SKIN!!! Where exactly do you think I'm going??? You have miles of monsters out there!!!"

And, if he insists on keeping her inside, she's just very passive-aggressive about telling him how his "prisoner" needs enrichment. Ya know, books, art supplies, cards, SOMETHING to hold off the slow encroachment of insanity. But in that jilted lover sort of way.

So, like, she's intelligent & perceptive & cunning & even manipulative & is receptive to his advances, but she basically says, "Listen, man, you wanna relationship with me, then fine. But I'm gonna make this the healthiest freaking relationship you've ever had, if it ends us both."

Like, she takes no bs & demands the respect due a wife/girlfriend/queen/whatever.

And I just have no clue what one would call that ship, but I wanna read a dang fiction about it with Ganondorf as the yandere.

Like, just imagine all the typical yandere tropes, but the victim is just sort of approaching it the way one might socializing a spicy kitten. How would he react to his darling acting this way?))

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Wind Waker Ganondorf

Setting: A grand, dimly lit chamber within Ganondorf's fortress. His lover, defiant and resolute, faces him.

Lover: (sighing heavily) "Alright, I see there's no getting out of this. But if I'm going to be stuck here, I expect to be treated like the precious Darling you claim I am."

Ganondorf: (frowning, confused) "You think you can make demands of me, woman?"

Lover: (crossing her arms) "Yes, I do. You want me to be your queen? Then treat me with the respect a queen deserves. I'm not a pet to be caged."

Ganondorf: (grudgingly) "And what do you propose?"

Lover: "For starters, I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind sharp. If you want a sane queen, you'll give me the means to stay sane."

Ganondorf: (muttering) "Very well. But do not think this makes you free."

Lover: (smirking) "I wouldn't dream of it. But you'll see, Ganondorf. This will be the healthiest relationship you've ever had, even if it kills us both."

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Setting: The throne room of Ganondorf's dark castle. His lover stands before him, determined.

Lover: (sighing) "Okay, Ganondorf, if I'm stuck here, we're doing this my way. You call me your fiancée, but keep me locked up like a prisoner. That ends now."

Ganondorf: (scowling) "You dare speak to me this way?"

Lover: "Yes, I dare. I need sunlight, fresh air, and mental stimulation. You have an army of monsters outside. Where do you think I'm going to run off to?"

Ganondorf: (pausing) "What do you want?"

Lover: "Books, art supplies, something to keep me from going insane. And if you ever truly cared for me, you’ll respect my needs."

Ganondorf: (reluctantly) "Fine. But do not test my patience."

Lover: (smiling) "Deal. Now, let’s work on making this the best relationship you’ve ever had."

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Setting: A dark, foreboding hall in Ganondorf's castle. His lover confronts him with fierce determination.

Lover: (deep sigh) "Alright, Ganondorf, you win. But if I’m your wife, I demand to be treated like one. Not a housepet."

Ganondorf: (smirking) "You think you have the power to demand anything from me?"

Lover: "Yes, because if you don't, you'll regret it. I need books, art supplies, anything to keep me mentally stimulated. I won’t be a passive prisoner."

Ganondorf: (intrigued) "You are bold. Very well, you shall have what you need."

Lover: "Good. And if you really care about me, you’ll start treating me with respect. This relationship will be healthy, or it will be hell."

Ganondorf: (chuckling) "You amuse me. Perhaps this will be interesting after all."

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Setting: The war room of Ganondorf’s fortress, filled with maps and strategy plans. His lover stands resolutely before him.

Lover: (sighing) "Ganondorf, if I’m going to be your queen, then start treating me like one. Keeping me locked up is not how you treat someone you care about."

Ganondorf: (raising an eyebrow) "And what do you propose?"

Lover: "I need books, art supplies, something to keep me sane. I’m not running away. Your army of monsters ensures that."

Ganondorf: (nodding slowly) "Very well. You shall have your distractions."

Lover: "And start respecting me. If you want a relationship, we’re doing this right."

Ganondorf: (grinning) "You are a fierce one. This will be... enjoyable."

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Setting: A grand hall with windows overlooking the vast landscape. His lover faces him with determination.

Lover: (deep sigh) "Okay, Ganondorf, if I’m going to be your queen, then treat me like one. I’m not a prisoner."

Ganondorf: (thoughtfully) "What do you want?"

Lover: "Books, art supplies, anything to keep me sane. I’m not trying to escape; I just need mental stimulation."

Ganondorf: (nodding) "You shall have what you need."

Lover: "And respect me. This relationship will be healthy, or it will be nothing."

Ganondorf: (smiling) "You have spirit. Very well, let us see where this leads."

Demise

Setting: A dark and foreboding throne room, filled with the aura of darkness. His lover stands defiantly before him.

Lover: (sighing) "Alright, Demise, if I’m stuck here, then treat me like the queen you say I am. Not a prisoner."

Demise: (glaring) "You dare demand anything of me?"

Lover: "Yes, because if you don’t, you’ll regret it. I need books, art supplies, something to keep me from going insane. Your minions outside ensure I’m not escaping."

Demise: (considering) "Very well. You shall have your distractions."

Lover: "And start respecting me. If you want a relationship, we’re doing this right."

Demise: (grudgingly) "You are bold. Perhaps you are worthy of being my queen."

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Bonus:

Title: "The Gilded Cage"

Scene: The Castle of Twilight

The sun set beyond the horizon, casting long shadows through the tall windows of the castle. Within its imposing stone walls, Ganondorf paced restlessly, his fiery eyes occasionally flicking towards the grand oak door at the end of the hall. His “darling,” as he fondly referred to her, was beyond that door, where he kept her safe from the dangers of the outside world. The very thought of her escaping or being harmed filled him with a primal rage.

Inside the room, the atmosphere was markedly different. She sat by the window, the cool evening breeze rustling her hair. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked out at the world she once freely roamed. Turning back to the room, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the gilded cage she now called home.

The door creaked open, and Ganondorf entered, his presence commanding and filled with dark energy.

"My darling," he greeted, his voice a mix of adoration and possessiveness. "Why do you sigh so? Are you not happy here, with me?"

She turned to face him, her eyes sharp and unyielding. "Happy? You call this happiness, Ganondorf? You keep me locked up like a prized possession, but refuse to treat me with the respect and care you claim I deserve."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "I keep you safe. The world outside is filled with monsters and dangers that you cannot even imagine. I protect you because I love you."

She took a step forward, her stance defiant. "And in doing so, you’ve made me your prisoner. If you truly loved me, you’d understand that I need more than just protection. I need freedom, sunshine, and the feel of grass beneath my feet. I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind from withering away in this cage."

Ganondorf’s expression softened, but his resolve did not waver. "You think I can simply let you roam free? The risk is too great. I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

Her eyes flashed with determination. "Then meet me halfway. You call me your darling, your fiancée, your wife. Treat me as such. Provide me with what I need to keep my sanity, to feel human. If I am to be yours, then you must learn to respect my needs and desires."

He stared at her, his mind racing. The idea of compromising, of bending to her will, was foreign to him. Yet, her words struck a chord deep within. She was not just any captive; she was intelligent, perceptive, and strong-willed. She demanded more from him than he had ever been willing to give.

"Very well," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "I will provide you with what you need. Books, art supplies, whatever you desire. But remember, you are still mine, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "I accept your terms, for now. But understand this, Ganondorf: I will continue to push for more. I will make this relationship as healthy as possible, even if it means challenging you every step of the way."

He stepped closer, his eyes locked onto hers. "You are a peculiar woman, my darling. Most would cower, yet you stand and fight. Perhaps that is why I find myself so drawn to you."

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "And perhaps that is why I will never give up on making you see reason. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a request for a library to make."

As she walked past him, Ganondorf couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. This was not the dynamic he had envisioned, but it was one he found himself reluctantly respecting. His darling was not a mere possession; she was a force to be reckoned with, and he would have to learn to navigate this new reality.

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Bonus Bonus:

The room was opulent, furnished with the finest antiques and draped in luxurious fabrics. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the scene. Vlad Masters, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, paced back and forth, his usually confident demeanor faltering as he glanced nervously towards the locked door. Behind it was his "darling," the woman who had unexpectedly turned his life upside down.

Inside the room, she sat on the edge of an overstuffed armchair, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. Her expression was a mixture of frustration and determination. She had been in this gilded cage for too long, and her patience was wearing thin.

Vlad finally gathered the courage to enter, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of longing and apprehension. "My dear," he began, his voice soft and almost pleading, "you must understand, I only want to keep you safe."

She let out a deep, heavy sigh, her gaze unwavering. "Safe? You call this safe, Vlad? You keep me locked up like a prisoner. I can't even step outside to feel the sun on my skin or touch the grass. What do you think is going to happen to me out there? There are miles of monsters, yes, but I'm not planning an escape. I just want a semblance of normalcy."

Vlad's face twisted in confusion and hurt. "But you are my precious darling. I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

She stood up, her posture strong and defiant. "If I'm so precious, then start treating me like it. You want to call me your girlfriend, your fiancée, your wife? Fine. But I'm going to make this the healthiest relationship you've ever had, even if it kills us both. You want me to stay? Then I need books, art supplies, something to keep my mind occupied. You can’t expect me to sit here and go insane."

He was taken aback by her boldness, but there was something about her strength that only made his obsession grow deeper. "I... I didn't realize how much this was affecting you," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I'll get you whatever you need."

Her eyes softened just a fraction, seeing the cracks in his otherwise impenetrable facade. "Vlad, I understand that you're... different. But if you want this to work, you have to trust me. I won’t run away, but I need my space, my freedom within these walls. Treat me with the respect I deserve, and maybe, just maybe, we can make this work."

He stepped closer, reaching out to take her hand. She didn't pull away, but her eyes were still hard, watching him carefully. "I promise," he whispered, "I'll do better."

She gave a small nod, squeezing his hand slightly. "Good. Because I won't settle for anything less."