#Pardon she is healing

[thesilenceofthelambs]

visited my dear friend (@ovalba on ig) and exchanged friendship/giggles for a cfo inspired piece

[curseshared]

thinking soooo much about this storyboard lilith

[investingestincest]

starting the movie in tears because i already know who he'll choose

[brighteuphony]

A moment of mourning for Sakura for words she would have once given anything to hear from Sasuke....

Kind of followup to THIS comic.

But she and Saeko have had their revenge for Enji, and Sakura has had time to heal and find closure. She won't be any good to Sasuke because she's already left that path, and she won't abandon her coven/responsibilities either.

She's learned alot about Konoha over the past few years, and has to a big degree, deprogrammed herself from the Leaf's propaganda thanks to all her teachers and some brutal life experience, so she doesn't actually care if Sasuke were to raze the entire council/kages to the ground- but there ARE people (ino, Kakashi, lee, naruto etc-) who she loves and wants to protect, so she'll stay, for them.

Sasuke, for his part, is happy to have someone just verbalize that they empathize with his pain and that his desire for revenge is justified, though he's doesn't have the bandwidth to really understand where Sakura is right now, emotionally.

In this AU I kind of had an end for Sasuke where he is pardoned, but never returns to the village, though he does pass by once in a blue moon. When he does, Sakura (who doesn't end up living IN the village as much as in the forests of Konoha like their own little witch of the woods) is there to help with healing/supplies and they do end up as good, yet distant friends.

Once again, thank you so much for all the support and really nice questions/kind words for this AU!!! <3 <3

[e-hibiscus]

Pardon me being in my plushie era, but listen to the ramblings of a delusional Arle lover

Making a plushie for Arlecchino. 🥺 initially she doesn’t know how to react to be given something like this. She just stares at you, not saying a word until you apologize for making a childish gift to which Arlecchino simply shakes her head. Her soft words of reassurance were sweet and she accepted the plush. You can’t really tell if she liked or not.

Rarely is anyone ever allowed in her office; not even the children of the house of hearth. Arle leaves your gift on a shelf, with many other gifts she has been given from the children for whatever reason. Perhaps it was to strengthen her facade as “Father”, but Arlecchino cares deeply– even as the “unfeeling” father figure. Her little collection of gifts are kept neat, clean, and tidy.

Some point down the line, she finds a plushie that reminds her of you, and she gets it, taking it home and setting them next to each other. Arlecchino often finds herself staring at them and every now and again changing the little accessories. A part of her is fond of this activity, especially when it reminds her of you and your love for her. It heals a little bit of her childhood self in a way 🥺

Arle never tells you about it, and you only learn of this when you noticed it there one evening while Arlecchino was working.It was late, so she allows you to come in and accompany her for the night because you’ve missed her. You tell her about your day, and she listens to your words with the utmost attention. However mundane or trivial, Arle just wanted to hear your soft voice.

Arle sets you on her lap so you’re able to cuddle with her while she continues going over her papers. That’s when you notice the two plushies sharing a little coat together as you were dozing off. It makes you melt seeing that Arle treasured it along with all the other knick knacks peoples. However “cold and unfeeling” as Arlecchino portrays herself, you know she’s one to cherish such things.

If she has a nickname for you like dove or bunny, the plushie resembles that aspect. That’s how you pieced together that the plushie was a representation of you. It even had a custom little ribbon like the one she’s gifted you. It’s only if you ask her directly does she mention that plushie reminded her of you. 

[greycaelum]

Ok im gonna drop this here for u to write it whenever u want,cause its been hunting me

Royalty au where gojo and reader are living happily,that is until someone poisons his queen when they're having dinner together.

She drinks the wine,and suddenly falls to the ground while throwing up blood and blood running from her eyes. Shoko manages to save her and geto holds gojo back so he doesnt do anything stupid. But when his queen wakes up she's really weak so shoko tells gojo about a flower that'll heal her up,so gojo leaves in order to search for it.

But when he's back,geto leads him to the flower garden the queen loves and he finds her among the flowers,a little better and seeing her not on deadbed has him running toward her,lifting her up and spinning while both of them laugh and kiss

Happy ending

Scribbles & Doodles—Lotus Tears

—Elven Emperor Gojo Satoru X Human Empress Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day. He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content. "For you, always, My Flower."

𑁍 Genre: historical fantasy, elves/faes, dark magic if you squint, interracial marriage

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (4.3k)— poison, mad Satoru, elven traditions and cultures, fluff, angst, comfort, implication of major character death, mating bonds, talks of rebirth

𑁍 ✒️☕: Hi to the person who sent this ask. Pardon the very long wait, but I loved writing this one, I just need to say your ask is one of my fave ideas for elf Satoru so I tweaked some things, fantasy tropes are my favorite to write to escape canon~ Grey,

At night when you lay in their bed, your head atop his chest, he cannot sleep a wink for he has forever to spare and only a lifetime with you in his arms. For such a fragile flower, even a man who has grown bleak and untouched over the long passage of time, Satoru cannot help but stroke your head gently, scaring the pixies who would try to sneak in to soak with his mate's presence. He doesn't know if it's a good thing or bad that his mate is loved by the small faes. But one thing is for sure, he doesn't delight that they are trying to pry you awake from his arms. It's no secret he doesn't like sharing... especially when it's about you.

For a human to become the Empress of the High Courts is an unheard thing. Improbable would be the word. And you do not need to know what methods Satoru used to make this happen. Because you already knew that behind his delicate beauty, lies the prickly thorns that wield the absolute power over nature. There is a reason why he was able to rule undisputedly in the indifferent flow of nature over the passage of time.

When he married you, he knew he would uproot the earth and supplant it again and again to give whatever you desired. He is the supreme ruler and Emperor of the High Courts and would only sheath his indifference in the presence of his Empress. He has broken down the millennial walls covering his heart and found himself enthralled by the maiden who never feared the Dark Woods. She found beauty in the mystery of the borders, and he found solace in her presence. She has grown to be his beloved Flower.

Fortunately for you, even as a born human, you have adapted to the faes far quicker. Learning their language and making up for your lack of magic, you learned diplomacy. It was not easy to learn such an intricate affair, but fortune has smiled upon you, with Satoru, who has boundless knowledge of the matter to be your tutor.

"Is this adequate enough?" Satoru hopefully looked at you in the mirror and the craft he had finished for a satisfactory answer.

"Satoru, we are not going to any gathering, are we?" You chuckled as you sat in front of the golden mirror while Satoru stood behind, holding an ivory comb in his hand as he carefully brushed your silky tresses. Small flowers adorned your hair like trinkets as he wove them skillfully into a braid. At this point, your handmaidens have lost their job, with your mate attending to almost everything you need unless he is away for the court.

"At least let me do this before I leave for my duties." He brought the tip of your hair to his lips, kissing it as he stared at you, a longing look on his face. This prompt you to turn the chair and face the elven emperor.

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day.

He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content.

"For you, always, My Flower." Satoru tilted your chin and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I do not wish to leave." He grumbled and connected your forehead, staring right into your eyes.

Your soft chuckle fluttered through his ears as you reached to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes. A sense of tranquility floated in your orbs bringing his heart into a puddle of cotton.

"I will wait for you at dinner, Satoru. So the earlier you finish the earlier we see each other. Alright?"

"Alright, as you wish." Satoru sighed and kissed the tip of your nose. "The things you make me do..."

He never thought he would one day sit under the shade of foliage with his Empress on his lap, reading through some parchments while he pilfered some wildflowers to braid her hair. Or to walk while gently pulling the reins of his equine, leading the elk through safe passages whilst you ride on the back. Things he never imagined and things he never thought he would do. But the second you came it all seemed natural for him to indulge you in every way possible.

You are like a brittle glass flower to him that he cannot help but wrap you in the most flawless silks and softest ermine furs. You evoke in him a firm sense of fierce protectiveness.

So imagine the horror and derangement inside him when you were still smiling and talking with him at the dinner table but suddenly blood flowed down your nose, followed by a series of coughs drawing blood from your throat as you dropped to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

If it wasn't for his friend Suguru, a Dragon Lord who he has grown with, who happened to visit the very same day only to pin him down in his rampage of killing the perpetrators hiding in the imperial kitchen staff, perhaps one-fourth of the castle must've already been slaughtered.

All he could see was red. The burning flames consuming the imperial castle and the wilting forest mirrored the despair in his heart. He couldn't hear that his people were wailing for him. All he could ever see was his mate dying each second from the potent poison coursing in her bloodstream.

"Don't touch her!"

He snarled with pure frenzy when Shoko tried to reach out to your unmoving body in his arms.

"Satoru, Shoko is only going to heal her. Your mate needs help." Suguru tried to reason with the livid, elven emperor cradling the unmoving body of his bleeding empress. "She would not do anything to her, only help her."

Suguru could see how unfocused and distraught the dark blue eyes of his friend were, so far from his usual calm and regal sense. Satoru's eyes were bloodshot red. Thankfully, he didn't move when Shoko reached out again to heal his mate. 

A faint color of life returned to your face, but you were still as pale as alabaster, still unconscious. The fire consuming the woods slowly died down... A slight sense of sanity returned to Satoru, who held you close, ready to hide you from the world if not for Shoko's words.

"She's in moratorium state... I've only managed to stabilize her body and freeze the poison to stop it from spreading further. Right now, we need to find an antidote... Or else she will only have seven days to live. For now, let's take the Empress to a safe place." Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose as she looked back to the fire slowly dying down, leaving shared trees and ashes. "And fix the chaos you have ignited, Your Majesty, the Emperor."

There are, but severely few times he let his emotions overcome him. He could count it in his hand. But ever since that sight of your throwing up blood, Satoru experienced a myriad of emotions he thought he was never capable of.

Fear... Despair... Uselessness... and most of all heartbreak...

You don't know how many millions of times his soul has shattered in every second he held your cold hand whilst he channeled all healing spell he knows into your body as you sleep on the cradle of the sacred tree cushioned by wildflowers and vines dangling down the archaic branches of the colossal wood. It seems you're merely asleep, but it feels like it's been forever since he last saw your eyes. The reality is that day by day, you are losing your life while all he can do is sit here, rooted in place, too afraid that if he steps away, he might not see you again.

"Your Majesty..." Shoko came forward. The Emperor has been sitting here for three days straight beside his dying mate in silence holding her hand, unmoving, and would attack anyone who dares to step one foot closer to the lying Empress. The court matters have been neglected, with only the elders holding the court together in his absence. The woodlands are closely related to the essence of the Emperor. The depression of his heart manifested in the woods, which gradually lost the green leaves and were replaced by withered branches...

"I have found a possible cure for the Empress."

Shoko had never felt strong empathy, but she did feel a bit of ache for her friend when he raised his head at her, almost pleading with his bloodshot eyes.

"Speak."

"Do you remember the Sacred Tombs of Tvar?"

The sacred burial grounds of the late Empresses. It's deep-seated in the heart of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs, guarded by the mythical beasts his forefathers have created to protect the resting place of the late Imperial Rulers.

"What about it?" Satoru has only been there once when his Imperial Father has taken him to visit his late Mother. It's a mystical mountain filled with ancient elements, from the creatures to the plants, that can only be heard in folklore.

"For high faes like us, the poison the Empress has induced was nothing serious. But to humans, it is lethal." Shoko sighed. "The spell I cast was only a valve to keep the poison at bay until we can find an antidote. On the seventh day, when the sun rises, the spell will cease to exist, and the poison will corrode her bo—"

"Tell me, what should I do? Anything Shoko. I would kill if I had to." The bones on his knuckles protruded with his clenched fists. The Emperor cut her off. He would not hear her say such ominous words about his mate's life.

He would uproot the earth to find anything that can cure you. Anything.

"Killing might be going too far, but it's not impossible." Shoko took out from her robe a parchment containing a sketch of what seemed like a flower and handed it to her Emperor. She never slept over the three days in a desperate search for any cure. "There's a flower that can only be seen in the Sacred Tombs of Tvar that may be able to save the Empress. As we all know, only the direct descendant of the Imperial Family can enter the Mountain of Hanging Tombs."

The Mountain of Hanging Tombs is as ominous as the name implies. It's a mountain range covered with black mist and ferocious mythical animals and exotic plants. It's not that only the direct descendants of the Imperial Elven Bloodline can enter the mountains, but the lower beasts residing on the foot of the mountains refrain from attacking an imperial descendant since they are born from the first Emperor's blood as well. No ordinary fae can survive these mythical beasts, and could only result in death. Thus, it has become known not to venture deep into the mountains.

Satoru, however, wasted no time to cross the valleys leading to the burial grounds. He needs to find that flower.

Lotus Tears...

It is said that the flower can heal any illness. However, it's impossible to scour for the elusive flower, which roots deep only in the burial grounds of the Empresses and leave unscathed from the toxic plants and mythical animals on top of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs that will attack him at any given second.

"Why do you always put the flower on my left ear? I'm not yet married." You asked him during one of the days he stayed longer to watch over you as you searched for some wild, beautiful flowers in the woods.

Satoru stared at the magenta lilacs he conjured from his hands and tucked them into your left ear.

"You look beautiful in any shade of purple..." It matches the color of his robe.

You pursed your lips and huffed clearly not satisfied by his vague answer.

"You didn't answer my question, Satoru."

He chuckled at your angry face, bopping your nose, making you annoyed as you tried to punch him clumsily. The little girl still has the same pout even as she bloomed into a prim and proper lady. It was too adorable even to be called 'angry.' He jumps down the tree and walks up to you, bringing the tip of your hair to his lips for a soft parting salutation.

"Next time... I will tell you, My Precious Flower." With that, he took you to the borders of the human village and the dark woods, as your Mother was already looking for you. He watches you run into the light while slowly walking back into the shadows.

Maybe... He should have never forced this fate on you. You may have called on him in desperation to flee from the humans chasing after you, but he, being the one who knew better, should have returned you to your realm rather than letting his selfishness devour him and claim you as his mate. If he had done so, then you wouldn't have met this predicament.

You wouldn't have been lying in your blood, cold like a corpse...

"Where is she?" Satoru's heart felt like it was dying when he saw that your body was gone from the bed of the sacred tree. "Where is my mate?! Shoko!"

Did he lose you? Did he come too late?

He stared at the blue lotus he so carefully dug out of the perilous mountain despite the throbbing pain on his shoulders after a chimera managed to bite him before he could slay it.

No, you cannot leave him like this... Oxygen left his lungs, and his feet staggered, unable to support the weight of heaven, crushing his soul. His vision is going black, not like this. He barely got to dote on you. Barely got to drown you with the love he has secretly hidden all these years. No, no, no. Satoru's throat ran dry. He wants to scream as if the tearing of his heart wasn't enough to shout his despair.

The forest closely linked to his essence slowly wilted as if joining their Emperor in his mourning. The leaves slowly dried up. The flowers closed, and the vines started shrinking to twigs. His sorrow is mirrored by nature.

His mind went black, his heart slowly crumbled in every passing second that his eyes could not see you. Why did the gods despise him to tear apart the only joy he has ever touched for what seems like an eternity?

"Satoru!" Suguru found him in haste after the forest slowly grew darker and darker.

Who knew that his apathetic friend could have this vast amount of emotions to turn the lush evergreen forest into a barren land? Suguru wasted no time to drag what seemed to be a lifeless Satoru into a maze-like garden.

Shoko was there. She immediately snatched the mystical lotus from the Emperor. Satoru could care. All things pale in comparison to his mate... All things. He dropped to his knees, holding onto your hand.

"Y-Y/n?" Satoru's throat was parched as he saw your sleeping body, with the wilting grass around, as if you were truly taken away into the underworld... This was your favorite garden... All flowers in here, he has grown with his own hands. Not it seems like he has planted those flowers only to send you off to the afterlife. "No, you can't do this to me, My Flower... I would lose my mind." He muttered like a madman, bringing your cold hands to rub against his cheeks, desperately searching for any signs of warmth but finding nothing...

Suguru tried to pry him away from your frail body, but his malevolence met those who tried to separate you from him until the Dragon Lord had no choice but to use all means to knock Satoru out...

The last thing he saw was your sleeping face as he desperately begged his eyes not to close... He needs to see you, to be beside you... to hold you...

"Satoru...?" You were both sitting under the shade of a magnolia tree with his head on your lap, eyes closed from the glaring sun, meanwhile, you intertwined his lustrous hair into a loose braid, tucking little flowers in your masterpiece.

"Hmm?" It was one of the days when he had enough time to traverse the hills with you and meet other fae tribes so you may have time away from the Imperial Courts.

"Promise me that if the memories we have together start to hurt... you will forget me."

His eyes opened in a split second, and he looked back with furrowed brows only to meet your small smile.

"That is nonsense. I would never wish to forget you. You are my mate." Satoru sat straight and took your hand in his. "What led you to this ominous thought, My Flower? Do not think of such things, we are bonded for eternity."

You gently shake your head.

"You're an elf... I'm a human. Our life span runs differently. Some day... You will have to remember me longer than you have held me..." The bitterness of your eyes was quickly concealed as you closed them. "That's simply the order of nature..."

Satoru was tongue-tied... He cannot face that reality yet... Not yet... If ever the Lady of Light is listening to him, he prays that the sun and moon slow down... Forever never seems to be enough...

Forever will never be enough...

"Satoru...?" 

He wishes never to wake up. If you're not in the world he opens his eyes to, he may as well live in this fantasy. He has lived such a long time in solitude. So even if it's just a fragment of imagination or make-believe, he would choose that sweet lie rather than face the cold reality you're gone...

"Satoru..."

Your voice... It's sweeter than the sirens and softer than the small faes singing with the birds in early dawn...

A soft touch brushed off the fringes on his temples, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Unable to bear the brightness, his eyes opened and looked up to the blue sky...

Slowly, his blurry eyes met your worried ones as you tucked your hair behind your ear while staring at him with his head laying on your lap.

"You're finally awake... Thank goodness!" You sighed and smiled. "Welcome home, Satoru..."

Your hair... It's not the same color as it was... It shone a bright silver like his under the sunlight, which only the imperial descendants can inherit... But he knew it was you... His soul tells him so.

"Y-Y/n?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks that have grown prominent... more elf-like... "This isn't a dream?"

Your sweet chuckle filled his ears as your warm palms held his and pressed it to your cheeks, kissing his wrist.

"I must've worried you so... I'm sorry, but I'm fine now... because of you."

You're really warm... So warm, you melted the millennial thorny wall he built around his heart. Your palms are so dainty compared to him, but they have always been able to soothe him more than anything else.

"You... You look like me..." Satoru slowly sat up as he took in your features. "My Flower... you look like a fae..." Satoru is a bit confused about the sudden transformation. You look just as you are, but the silver hair, pointy ears, and sharper features... 

"It must've been because of the flower's healing attributes," Shoko explained, taking a step forward to assess the changes on you, who indeed looks like an elf now. 

"Explain, Shoko." Satoru looked at the woman as he was adamant about answers.

"The flowers had healing attributes; it's just a speculation, but aside from healing, we all know that lotus also signifies rebirth. The flower may have deemed it necessary to change the human blood running in the Empress's veins into elven blood for her to heal from the poison fully... As for the silver hair, I can only think that since the Lotus Tears came from the sacred buriel grounds of the late Empresses, it must have absorbed most of their remaining energy and passed it on to the Empress through the flower's healing attributes..."

"Does that mean my Mate is now an elf?" Satoru cannot believe how these events have turned out for you and him. He took your hand and studied your features... You are still you, but indeed, there swirls a more mystical air around you, and only a faint scent of human blood is left lingering in you.

"The Empress is not yet fully an elf at the moment, but I am sure before the fortnight ends, her transformation will be complete, and she will truly be a full-fledged fae, like us." Shoko nodded.

You stared at Satoru... The once wilting forest which you woke up to slowly regained life.

For a man so stoic, he is an open book... You can't help but chuckle as the smaller faes slowly creep out of their homes and rejoice at the blossoming life enveloping the woods again. Shoko and Suguru have left, leaving you and your mate some privacy in the garden.

"I..." Satoru cannot confess enough what he had done out of rage and sorrow when he thought you were gone.

"I know..." You shake your head telling him to speak no more as you took him in your arms... This time, you could feel him ever closer, hear his thoughts louder, and see him clearer. Everything he has done and he has said, you knew and felt in each passing second... But no words were uttered, as you can feel the remorse coursing in his being. What he needs the most is your embrace...

Nature can renew itself as long as it is given care and time...

The trees are once again full of luscious foliage, the grass is back to its evergreen hue, and the different faes have returned to their homes and gone through their duties as usual. Satoru is somehow a bit busier with the court matters, while you, the Empress, needed a little more recuperation before you come back to your court duties.

"Your Majesty... We always knew you smelled sweet even before you became like us."

The smaller sprites sat on your finger as they flapped around you, more drawn than ever. It seems that your new form has made you more captivating to their instincts, just like how they are drawn to the presence of their Emperor.

"Really? Though, I know you just want more sugary treats." You played with their cheeks until they perked up and bowed to someone. "See you tomorrow, Your Majesty!"

You didn't have to guess who made the little sprites flee in haste.

You turned around, and sure enough, you were swept off your feet as a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. His sweet sandalwood scent filled your senses, soothing your racing heart.

"I missed you, My Flower... What did my mate get for me?" Satoru looked at the basket you're holding, filled with several flowers from the garden he built for you.

"It's nothing much... It's too loose to be called a crown." You showed him the crown you clumsily made with some lilacs. But Satoru guided your hand to put it on his head, indulging you with anything. You have now fully turned into an elf. Bright silver hair, lucid eyes, and the sweet scent of jasmine and orchid around you with the purple robes that only the Imperial Rulers can wear. Anyone who sees you will immediately recognize you as an Imperial Fae and their Empress.

"I would take anything you offer me, Y/n." Satoru softly kissed her forehead... his lips slowly kissed his way down your nose until he found your lips. "Can I ask for a kiss?"

"What if I say my kisses are not offered?" You raised a brow.

Satoru merely shrugged it off with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure you can make exceptions for your husband, no?" Satoru chuckled. "Can I have my kiss now?"

Your sweet smile and soft giggle drowned in as he captured your lips for a gentle but passionate kiss.

If the lotus has tears, he will shed it only and only for you...

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General Taglist: @ice-icebaby  @aeanya @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[justblades]

⌕ SEIZED, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : luocha x afab! reader WC : 1.8k

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. lactation, breeding, netorare, d!ck deprived & d!ck drunk! reader

⟢ SUMMARY : an appointed family doctor visits a widowed mother to check up on her health, but it appears fate had other plans instead.

the incessant pelting rain continuously clatter against your home's rooftop, pitter pattering sounds ironically accompany the loneliness murking your heart. it has been a long week of just trying to get by with no hints where to continue next. without your husband, it's as if your pillar of support crumbled into smithereens, nothing but dusts of what were once a life being.

naturally, your peers and family come into the scene to help soothe your grieving soul, but as much as you hate to admit it, no words of theirs relieved the lingering sadness. feigning healing has been a routine so you don't worry your relatives too much— but then a surprising knock on the door veer your train of thoughts off course.

you check from the cameras to see who's the visitor and as you saw those familiar blond strands tied in a neat low ponytail and the foreign designed clothing, you swing the door open and give a greeting. "good evening, doctor. come in." he bows lightly, "pardon the intrusion."

with enough small talk while you lead the doctor to the vast living room of your own home, you bid your farewell for a moment to fetch some drinks, a kind gesture of welcoming your guest. "might i ask how's your girl? is she well?" the doctor queries kindly, viridescent hues flutter in curiosity. "yes, she's asleep actually. it's a little . . saddening to realize my husband never got to see our girl past 6 months." you reply, setting the tray on the long glossed table.

"my sincerest condolences. if ever you would like to seek help from a professional, i can name a few and refer you to them." his honeyed words felt rather wholesome. for some reason, being with someone you're not that particularly well acquainted with is refreshing. you've met with luocha several times from your husband's health check ups whenever you accompany him, so it's safe to assume luocha took up the role to be your family's doctor; after all, your husband is the type to entrust a reliable individual to support his wife.

luocha takes out his equipments so he can administer his check up regarding your physical health, bringing out his stethoscope and the familiar golden necklace laced around his gloved fingers. he proceeds with the usual basics, a question sparking one after another as a way to not bore his patient. "how are you faring nowadays?"

"honestly speaking, things are really bad." he nods, gesturing for you to continue. "i can't help but yearn for crumbs of intimacy sometimes." you chuckle at the end, coverig a light hand on your mouth. "from your husband exactly? or—" your gaze shifts to luocha's face, addled at the far fetched inquiry of his.

"—my apologies. that was below the belt." the blond male cuts himself off and an apologetic smile sits on his lips. however you dismiss it, "no no, don't worry about it. if anything, it feels nice to be accompanied once in a while. i can't open up my feelings to others given that i might cause them trouble," you pause, heaving a blue sigh and continue, "i doubt this will weigh you down, doctor. especially when you're in the medical field."

the vicinity then falls silent for a short while and your eyes gaze elsewhere, reminiscing the olden moments you were being showered with affection from a loved one. a gut feeling suddenly persuades you to look back at luocha; when you do so, the smile sculpted on his lips persists. his usual expressions were never eerie, but this time, for some reason . . it feels different from the usual. "it's a shame you're widowed at such a young age miss."

your eyes widen, heart beat racing against the hundreds of thoughts flaring up in your mind. "i don't know what you're hinting at, doctor." he closes in the remaining distances between the both of your bodies. you remain there sat on the wooden chair while the blond stands up and lowers himself just enough for your piercing, heating gazes to meet. "there is no need to bluff. it's okay." his voice deepens, jade hues reflecting a crystalline clear view of your curious expression.

as if the strings of your life become woven in a fruitful future once again, your sultry lips press against luocha's. getting a feel of his soft margins sends shockwaves of pleasure and longing in your system; you couldn't restrain yourself, restraint is not your forte. the kiss eventually transitions into a deeper one, tongues coming into the scene, tangling with each other's in sync.

luocha's eyes are shut, his breathing becomes sharp and ragged. it was clear cut that he's savoring your liquids, gloved hands now exploring your body. "miss, it was . . . supposed to be a lighthearted joke." he says in between the sloppy kisses, struggling to keep up with your fast rhythm. "drop the formalities, luocha." you retort, your stomach fluttering for more action.

it was his first time being referred to by his nickname from a favorite patient— fueling his carnal desire even more that it's impossible to extinguish its fervor flames at this point. luocha's hands quickly cup your clothed chest - his long fingers lightly dig on the plush of your tits, your breath hitches and the kiss finally ends, connecting your lips to luocha's with a naughty singular trail.

he skillfully rips the fabric apart, conferring him a full open view of your voluptuous tits— given that you're still breastfeeding. luocha's bulge underneath twitches, he bites his lips in impatience, a foreign feeling he has a hard time encountering. you let out a chuckle and take the initiative by pushing him back to his seat and straddle his lap, facing the doctor.

naturally, he's surprised, but you did not waste any more time by combing his lush flaxen hair with your hand and drag him to your boobs, perfectly aligning his mouth to your soft buds. a soft moan slips out once you got a feel of his tongue suckling on your nipple, "mhm, i never would've guessed you'd be into this as well."

the doctor doesn't reply but proceeds to toy with the other one, squeezing your flesh in an attempt to milk you dry - evident from how hard he's lapping your boobs up. your folds start to seep out of arousal from the lewd movements and you get a feel of luocha's erect crotch; you buck your hips to accumulate friction from the heating body part all the while urging luocha to drink more of your juices. in contrary to his gentlemanly, chivalrous nature, he's surprisingly greedy and rough as to how he nibbles on your hardened bud.

"h-how do i taste?" you skittishly ask and luocha pauses. "compelling." a mere singular word throws your mind in a daze, body tingling everytime luocha's feathery touches brush on your skin. "a flavor that's addictive, making me want to procreate with you so your supply wouldn't run out."

heat and blood rush all the way up to your cheeks, sexual passion brews in the depths of your lower abdomen. "i'll stand up as the father— we can be together . . ." he whispers to your ear, his hot breathe caressing your bare skin. your next move was more predictable: luocha watches with his predatory-like eyes while you strip yourself in front of him, legs farthest apart, muddy white beads trickling away from your lower lips.

your fingers spread your folds open, an immensely erotic view that will inevitably be etched in the male's mind for the longest time. "this is all yours." the corners of luocha's lips tug upwards as he removes his onyx glove with his teeth, proceeding to set it on the tabletop beside your vulnerable state. he resumes and brings his cock into full view for your eyes as well, stroking his girth until it stands tall and glorious. "you're surprisingly . . packing."

you were taken aback as he lifts your body up along with your left leg, draping it on his forearm while he teases his tip adjacent to your entrance. it happened too fast as if it occured in 20 machs speed, now rocking your hips, begging for him. "did you ever imagine this whenever you accompany your husband with his check ups?"

now that he mentioned it, you were left wondering. since when did you ever fantasize about your husband's doctor, much so that your façade as a goody two shoes wife immediately breaks down with the littlest, puny attempts?

just as when you were about to respond, he thrusts into your wet cunt, his girth filling all the remaining space inside your velvet walls. luocha's guttural moan erupts from his throat, gratification pooling inside him the more you clenched around his throbbing dick. you were tight, very tight that the doctor feels himself cum on the spot.

if it weren't for him pulling out from your slit, he'll have to instantly bury his seed of climax deep. "ah— luocha . . !" you yelp once he pistons in again, this time, his cock's tip kisses the surface of your cervix. ". . honestly. . y . . yes." you admit, embarrassment gnawing at your bones, words cut off everytime luocha pounces into your lewd hole.

his breathing becomes even more jagged, beads of sweat rivulet from his forehead, "i'm very close . ." your knees were about to give in as well, all the left strength in your body vanishing. "m-me too!" with another shared sloppy kiss in between the intercourse unraveling from both of your heated, lust brewed bodies, luocha pounds into your pussy swiftly, emitting squelching sounds both from his cock and the constant sucking and licking of your lips.

"hah . . please . . make sure you'll knock me up!" desperation heavily hints your words, enough to cater to luocha's preferences that were obvious the more time you got to spend with him. you figured it all out, how he likes your lactating tits, how he goes berserk just to procreate with you. although it all seemed a little too quick— perhaps this is how the higher entities planned it.

with one last balls deep thrust, all of his cum pool inside you, filling you to the brim. your melting moans of pleasure mesh along with luocha's, both satisfied from everything that transpired. luocha supports your trembling body with his figure and grabs ahold of your hand, bringing it closer to his saliva glossed lips. he places a chaste kiss on the back, leaving yet another ephemeral chill, running along your spine up and down.

"i'll take good care of you . . . your girl . . . and our soon to be baby. our newly built family."

my masterlist !

[coralinnii]

I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!

❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋

↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)

feat: Ace and Deuce

genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?

note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death

I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)

Villain/ess au Series Masterlist

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.

That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.

Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.

A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.

But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.

You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.

The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.

“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.

Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.

“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”

Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.

But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.

But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.

Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.

“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”

The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.

Back when you three shared the same bed together.

“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.

“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”

You’re starting to reconsider your request.

But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”

The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.

“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”

“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”

You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.

They were idiots, but they were your idiots.

“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”

To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.

Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.

“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.

A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.

[vroomvroommuppett]

two

andrew garfield x ex!wolff oc & george russell x wolff!oc

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kofi

pateron

send an ask or reblog to tell me what you think, and/or what you think could happen

likes and reblogs are encouraged!

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dailymail

liked by andrewgarfieldfan, user2, and others

dailymail Amidst his divorce, Andrew Garfield was seen out with his rumored girlfriend, Dr. Kate Tomas, who is a professional witch. They looked very cozy on their night out. What do you think?

tagged: andrewgarfield, drkatetomas

user1 i beg your biggest pardon?

user2 A PROFESSIONAL WITCH?!

landonorris Lol

user3 LANDO?! landonorris I like drama

jamiedornan I have no words

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ellawolffprivate

liked by iamrebeccad, lilymhe, and others

ellawolffprivate me when i found out about his new relationship

landonorris How did he go from you to her?

fernandoalo_offcial I have no words

sebastianvettel She seems interesting

georgerussell63 Toto just spit his water out when we showed him

ellawolffprivate as he should

lewishamilton You also called me having a hysterical laughing fit about it

ellawolffprivate not my brightest moment

jamiedornan They're oposites but I guess oposites attract, even if they cheat

jamiedornan Also the kids are wondering how you're doing

ellawolffprivate MY BABIES I MISS THEM. I can get you paddock passes jamiedornan That'd be great.

francesca.cgomez pierre laughed when he found out

pierregasly Sue me. It was funny charles_lecerc Arthur and Lorenzo have so many questions. As do I. carlossainz55 Get in line.

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ellawolff

liked by maxverstappen1, florencepugh, and others

ellawolff healing🤍

user1 MOTHER IS BACK

florencepugh welcome back baby

ellawolff love you flo

maxverstappen1 Welcome back, El.

ellawolff thanks maximillian maxverstappen1 Not my name but I'll let it slide

francesca.cgomez wifey

ellawolff love you baby pierregasly What about me? Your boyfriend. francesca.cgomez you're my side piece

andrewandkatefan So glad he divorced you. You were never right for him.

lilymhe ok and? he's not going to notice you flavy.barla this isn't the flex you think it is honey georgerussell63 And yet he cheated. user4 they went in

lilyzneimer miss you baby

ellawolff miss you more love oscarpiastri I don't even try anymore

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mercedesamgf1

liked by ellawolff, user1 and others

mercedesamgf1 THIS IS NOT A DRILL. MINI BOSS IS BACK IN THE PADDOCK.

tagged: ellawolff

ellawolff love you admin🤍

user5 she slayed that outfit

user6 she's glowing

ellawolff it's the tears

lewishamilton We missed you!

alex_albon YES mom is back

logansargeant Come see your favorite kids in Williams.

user7 so glad she's back

andrewandkatefan ew. andrew and kate should be there, not an random influencer.

user8 who wants to tell her? ellawolff oh honey. my dad is toto wolff. why do you think they call me mini boss? and it looks like you still have pictures of him and i up when you were a fanpage for us. and they are on the "never invite" list. landonorris She read you to filth georgerussell63 I am liking this new Ella.

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[heckcareoxytwit]

Deadpool is having a hard time fighting the new foe - Death Grip, the mad mystic martial artist. Death Grip keeps shrugging off katanas, kicks, punches and even the blabbering from the merc with a mouth. Meanwhile at the hidden base, Ellie Camacho and Princess the Symbiote Hyena learn that Deadpool had gone out on a mission without telling them so they interrogate Doug Siravanta for his whereabouts. Back to the temple, Deadpool keeps fighting Death Grip until he gets his arm torn off from a telekinetic attack. The mad mystic martial artist will stop at nothing to find the limits of Deadpool’s healing factor. Somewhere in the temple, Taskmaster is fighting off the temple's monks with a combination of learned martial arts and borrowed magic. Back to Deadpool vs Death Grip, the former (Deadpool) is still fighting the latter (Death Grip) despite having one arm. Even though Deadpool managed to get his upper hand (pardon the pun) on Death Grip by chopping off his hands, he loses his leg to the mystic's breath weapon. Just before Death Grip could finish off Deadpool, he is stopped by Ellie and Princess who arrived just in time and she fires a bomb arrow at the mystic. Both Ellie and Princess managed to save Deadpool before the temple blows up. Even though Deadpool is wounded and has missing left limbs, he is still alive much to the relief from his daughter. Also, Taskmaster emerges out of the wreckage, slightly wounded but alive.

Deadpool v10 #5, 2024

[senualothbrok]

Remembrance

Summary: In Waterdeep, Tav journeys through grief and loss, with Gale by her side.

(Featuring fighter and Harper Tav, Professor Dekarios, and Jaheira.)

Word count: 4.9k

AO3 link

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Angst (with resolution). Grief/bereavement.

A/N: This fic is dedicated to @tee-dohrnii, who wanted to read about Gale comforting a Tav who has experienced grief and loss. I hope that anyone who resonates with this journey finds comfort, hope and healing through this fic.

Thank you again to @inglorionamy-ammy for being a fantastic beta-reader.

**********

She would roll her eyes. That was Charis’ usual response, when you were halfway through a diatribe about your uncle’s ineptitude as a parent, or the way the roads were more perilous than they used to be, or how she had always been stubborn to a fault.

But the last time you saw her, Charis had thrown her head back and said instead, “You always do this.”

“Do what?” you retorted, irritated by her interruption.

Her bright eyes crinkled slightly, her voice softening.

“You forget. You look back at something, and you just see one part of it. You forget the rest of it. You forget to remember.”

You had stared at her, backfooted by her sudden seriousness. Her unexpected insight embarrassed you. You waved her away.

But this is what you remember now.

****

“You’ll be pleased to know that all is in order for the funeral, my Lady. There’s only one matter left, on which we’d be grateful for your direction.”

You stare at the cleric. There is a languid deliberation, a cloying softness, in his words and movements, common to all the clerics of Lathander in this temple. It irks you, how they speak as though life were a slumbering companion to tiptoe around, rather than a crushing flood leaving nothing but rubble in its wake.

Beside you, Gale clasps your hand. Your other hand is a balled fist. You gaze at the blanching of your knuckles.

“What do you need from me?” you hear yourself say.

The cleric hums as he thumbs through a crusty tome, his gnarled fingers scratching at the pages. With a practised smile, he holds the words out to you.

“We would like you to choose a reading on Charis’ behalf, to commence and conclude the ceremony. There are five potential passages.” He indicates each one painstakingly. “Please let us know which one your sister would have preferred.”

You stare blankly at the writing as it swirls and congeals into a mass of meaningless blots. You stare and stare, until you can stare no longer, until you are no longer sure what you are staring at. Gale’s hold on your hand tightens.

“Brother Walter,” he says. “Perhaps you can leave the passages with us, so that Tav can have a moment to consider them?”

The cleric nods, an impression of patience, understanding. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

He lays the tome on the table between you and rises. As you watch his stooped and receding back, a bolt of bile surges within you.

“Shouldn’t you know?”

Brother Walter stops, glancing back. “Pardon?”

You stand. Haltingly, Gale follows suit. His fingers remain intertwined in yours, as if he is afraid to let you go.

“Charis came here every week,” you say. “For daily prayers, services, all the rest of it. She believed,” you jerk your hands around you, “in all of this. She spent time here with you all. She thought it was something worth doing.” 

Brother Walter’s pale eyes widen. You can tell he is unaccustomed to scathing displays of disgust. You imagine him shuffling about the temple placidly, padding out his existence with pointless prayers to his indifferent god. All at once, this is the most offensive, despicable thing you have ever imagined.

“She was one of your faithful. You knew her. Shouldn’t you know what nonsense she would prefer?”

Brother Walter looks down. Gale clears his throat. The building awkwardness only adds fuel to your fury.

“My Lady-”

“In fact, shouldn’t the Morninglord know?” you spit out. “He loves his faithful, right? Is that why he claimed Charis when she was barely twenty five, at the prime of her life? She must have been incredibly highly favoured by the Dawnbringer. What a blessing.”

Brother Walter’s thin lips twitch. You welcome his indignation, his sanctimonious chiding. You are practically begging for it. You want to fight, to rage, to scream. You want to drown this temple in the sea of your grief.

But he says nothing. Instead, Gale drifts into your vision. His eyes quiver like soft earth, his frown stilling you for a moment. Your hand goes limp in his.

“My love,” he whispers.

Your breath spasms. You are a glacier, shattering against the shore.

“I don’t have a godsdamned clue what passage Charis would have wanted,” you choke. “Charis should be here. Not me.”

Gale turns towards Brother Walter. You do not know what passes between them, and you do not care. When he shuts the door behind him, you let Gale take you in his arms. With the steel of your rage, the bleeding void that gapes, you cannot reciprocate the tenderness of Gale’s embrace. But it does not deter him. He holds you for a long time.

“Aren’t you going to tell me off?” you ask eventually.

He draws back to look at you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. When his skin grazes yours, you wonder whether he can feel the black ice beneath.

“Whatever for?”

“Disrespect and discourtesy. Blasphemy.”

His brow steeples, his lips parting in surprise. “No, Tav. No.”

He takes your hands and kisses them, so firmly and yet so gently. You tremble at his affection, the warmth of his touch.

“I think vitriolic anger is an appropriate response to this injustice.” The lines on his forehead are deep and dark. “This tragedy.”

Everything within you twists, like the tendrils of a tornado, tearing you apart. You try to speak, to maintain composure, but all you can do is clench and unclench your fists. He notices.

He is tentative at first. Then his words tumble out swiftly, lightly, almost playful. Like Charis’ springing feet when you practised swords together. Her leaping sprint when she stole the apples that were halfway to your mouth.

“Do you want me to conjure an effigy for you to batter?” he offers. “A dummy for you to rip apart? Should I find some barrels to fireball? Perhaps some statues for you to shatter in reckless abandon?”

Months ago, you and Charis had told Gale about your favourite childhood pastime, after your father had left you in the joyless care of your uncle. Over one of Gale’s sumptuous home-cooked meals, you had laughingly extolled the virtues and cathartic benefits of breaking everything you could get your hands on. You and Charis had offered to give Gale a detailed demonstration, but he had respectfully declined.

You are cut through by the joy of this memory, and of Gale’s love in sharing it. They are a sunbeam, searing through your empty heart. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury yourself inside him.

“Charis would approve of anything you choose,” he tells you, when you start to weep.

***

“So I told her, in no uncertain terms, that the next time she sends a simulacrum to one of our Board meetings, I will not hesitate to destroy it. That got her attention.”

As Poppy bobs her head in pride, you watch her tight curls bounce like coiled springs. Beside her, Kriv’s emerald scales shine as he applauds Poppy’s bravery. Gale is chuckling, cradling your hand in his lap. You mimic a smile.

Around you, there is the echoing of clattering mugs and clinking glasses. Hollow voices bleed into trailing laughter. The glow of candlelight warms your companions’ eyes and skin, but does not touch you. You have the strange feeling of being submerged in a glass box, watching and listening, hearing but not understanding. You feel disembodied.

You have sat at this table many times. When you moved to Waterdeep with Gale, you were keen to visit the Yawning Portal, the legendary tavern where Gale had rescued an unwitting crowd from violence with the power of ale, wit and generosity.  You were overjoyed when Gale introduced you to his old friend Kriv, the dragonborn bard who narrowly escaped a stabbing on the night of Gale’s heroics. You made fast friends with Poppy, too - Gale’s colleague at Blackstaff Academy, a pyromancer in specialism as well as temperament.

And when, a few months after the wedding, Charis had moved to Waterdeep, no trip to the Yawning Portal was complete without her. It was only natural that Charis should move to be near you. Before you awoke on the nautiloid, you had worked as mercenaries together, watching each others’ backs as you had since you were children. That did not need to change, just because you were married now, and had taken up with the Harpers. Charis settled in quickly, as she always did, renting modest lodgings near your tower, surprising you by joining the City Watch as a Constable. Your baby sister, finally putting down roots beside yours. You could not imagine life without her.

You stare at the empty space beside you.

You suddenly realise that your companions have fallen silent. You look up to three pairs of eyes, brown and green and blue, expectant and concerned as they wait for your answer. You look back blankly. You did not hear the question.

“Kriv was wondering whether we can still expect Jaheira next month, my love.” Gale squeezes your hand, his smile flickering. “Apparently, he’s quite taken by her.”

Kriv sighs loudly. “There's no use hiding it. That woman’s sunken her talons into my big black heart. If I had a moment alone with her, I could-”

Poppy chortles. “You spoke to her for all of ten minutes last time, Kriv. And you were more than a little tipsy.”

“It's called love at first sight, Popsicle. The stuff of odes, sonnets and ballads.” He waves dismissively. “I thought wizards were supposed to be wise.”

Poppy arches an eyebrow. “We are.”

You are nodding, smiling. You are trying.

“Jaheira's coming next month,” you manage.

You expect Gale to come in with a quip, but he does not. As Kriv and Poppy resume their bickering, Gale dips towards you. There is no hiding from his searching gaze.

“Do you want to go home, Tav?” His face is dark with worry again, a familiar sight which shames you.

After the funeral, you promised yourself that you would keep going. You would put on a brave face, as you and Charis had always done. For so long, you only had each other. You had to be strong for her, and she for you. As fighters, you were trained to soldier on through the most harrowing of battles. You would go on as normal. You had to.

So you accept every social invitation at Blackstaff, every gathering with Morena and Tara. You show up to every shift, attend meetings with Harpers around Faerun. You try to continue as though nothing has changed.

You can tell this troubles Gale. When he encourages you to take some time out, you reassure him this is not what you need. You need to keep going. To keep doing. You shrug off his tender, knowing gaze whenever he asks if you are alright. You cannot explain that you will never be alright again. This is what life is like now, without her.

“I'm fine, Gale.” Your voice is harder than you intend. “Everything's fine.”

A frown creases his brow. You avert your eyes, leaning forward to plant a long kiss on his cheek. You let go of his hand as you rise, turning towards your friends.

In the brightest voice you can muster, you ask, “Does anyone want another round?”

***

You are drifting towards the bar when you see her at the corner of the tavern. Ash blonde hair, shaved on one side and cut harshly at the chin. A deceptively willowy frame, concealing the strength of mountains. A soft, round face with deep set, almond eyes. She turns away, back facing you, nestled within the cackling group around her.

Time stops. The glass box splinters, and you are raked through by piercing ice. You leap towards the vision of your sister - flesh and blood, alive and well, here with you, and not crushed beneath the rubble of a disintegrated orphanage.

You knew it. It could not have been Charis lying on that pallet, grey and stiff as a torn doll. That was not the Charis you had wrestled with in the grass, who spiked your drinks with chilli and laughed so loudly that your ears rang with her delight. The Charis who sang in her sleep, who sharpened your blades as you stitched up her wounds. A desperate, frenzied relief possesses you.

An elderly man yowls as you shove him aside. A coiffured youth curses as you knock half of his ale onto the floor. You ignore the heads that turn at the commotion. You bound towards her, heaving wildly as you clutch her shoulder.

“Charis,” you cry.

She spins around to face you. Her eyes are wide with confusion, the blue of a cloudless sky, not the green of spring leaves. She is all straight lines and angles, harsh and pinched. Her skin is pale, unadorned by the freckles which mirror your own. On her jarringly narrow forehead rests a choppy fringe of an unfamiliar fashion.

You are winded. You stand speechless, tears erupting from you like guttering flames. The woman who is not Charis shifts away. The burly man next to her steps forward.

“Is there a problem here?”

You cannot move, cannot think. You have lost her. You are condemned to lose her again and again. A torment, an agony of remembrance. You cannot bear it. Your legs buckle beneath you.

He catches you. You know it is Gale before you see him. His body is warm and solid around yours, his arms steadfast and sure as they embrace you. The fragrance of sandalwood and soap envelopes you. He cups your cheek, sealing your forehead with kisses.

“I’m here, Tav,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

You are shaking. His body reverberates with your grief. You wonder if it is a shield straining to crack.

“Charis… She was…I thought…”

“I know.” His gentle eyes glisten as he holds you. “And I’m so, so sorry that it wasn’t her.”

All at once, you are sobbing. Cocooned against his chest, you begin to register the swirling of footsteps around you, bent on resuming the rhythm of the bustling tavern. You feel sharp jerks of Gale’s head, hear his protective warnings to irritated passersby. You know Gale would fight any one of them if they insulted or threatened you. You cannot allow that to happen. There can be no more death, no more tragedy. You try to steady the spasms of your breaths, to regain control of your limbs. Gale waits. He does not let you go.

When you stumble to your feet, Gale stands beside you. He brushes a tear from your cheek, weaving his fingers through yours.

“Let’s go home,” he says.

***

Every dawn is a punishment. A mockery by the Morninglord.

You draw your curtains, wrap yourself in the darkness of your bedsheets. You drink in sleep like an elixir, a balm that helps you forget. A spell that maintains the illusion.

You dream of her. In your dreams, she is alive, a babe and a child and a woman all at once. Barefoot and squealing as you chased her through the summer fields. Smug and smirking as she found your hidden stash of erotica. Feverish and frail as you fed her broth in bed. Grinning and victorious as you yielded to her wooden sword.

You dream of the thorns as well as the roses. Her incandescent, roaring rage. Her vile obscenities. Her stubbornness that drove you to madness. The petty squabbles you grew out of, and the meaningless quarrels you did not. You long for them now, more than ever. What you would not give to feel her seething anger, the proof of life in blood that boils.

Your dreams are a canopy, suspending you in time. Death cannot reach you there. It is perfect, and every time you wake, the anguish of truth crushes you so completely you do not think you will ever breathe again. You crumble beneath the weight of it.

You cannot keep going. Everything has changed.

***

He is curled against your back, close as a second skin. His arm drapes around you, his hand resting against your chest. You can smell the salt of sea air on Gale’s teaching robes, the bittersweet scent of his musk. It has become a routine, for Gale to bound up the stairs on return home from his lectures, sliding silently into the bed behind you, as though he never left your side.

“Jaheira sent word.” His breath caresses the shell of your ear. “She’s arriving a bit earlier than originally planned. She would like to spend that time with you.”

You say nothing. You can sense his movement. He is trying to catch a glimpse of your face, to parse the signals of your turmoil. You know you should feel gratitude at his love and patience, guilt at your withdrawal, your failure as a wife, friend, and Harper. But all you feel is a gaping chasm where Charis used to be.

“Tav.” His voice is impossibly soft. “I know it’s agony, unimaginable agony.” His hand reaches for yours. “But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, all of our friends are here for you, and we love you. I love you.”

For a long time, you cannot speak. You are collapsing into yourself, drowning in memories. When you answer, your voice is strangled and hoarse. The sound of decay.

“She was my mirror.”

Gale is quiet for a while. A tear rolls down your cheek, into the space between your intertwined fingers, braced against your heart.

“What do you mean, my love?”

You close your eyes. It hurts to speak of her. Every word is an admission of her absence, an ache that swallows you whole.

“She told me when I had food on my face,” you begin. “I wiped the mud off hers. She showed me when I was being an asshole. I made her keep her promises. I took care of her, and she kept me going. She told me I was her hero. I never got to tell her she was mine.”

You are haunted by all the things you should have said and done, broken links in the chain of possibilities. You had always thought there would be time. Why had you taken it for granted, as though every moment with her was infinite? You should have cherished them like pearls of dew in a desert. Now, you have nothing left.

“She’s gone, Gale. Who am I without her?”

You cannot see his face, but you can feel the resolve in his frame. He holds you against him, as though he can shield you from the storm.

“You’re who you’ve always been. Kind, brave, passionate. The warrior who saved the world. A soul that puts the stars to shame. The woman I love.”

He speaks with such certainty. You do not think you will ever be sure of anything again.

“I don't know how to be, without her.”

You can feel his heartbeat against your back. Its rhythm is constant and true.

“She'll always be a part of you, Tav. You carry her within you. Nothing can take that away.”

Something wrenches inside you. You are overcome by all of your doubts, all the questions that strip you bare. You cannot hold them back any longer.

“I should have insisted,” you choke. “When we asked her to move in with us, I shouldn’t have taken no for an answer. I could have kept a closer eye on her, then. I could have vetted her last mission with my contacts. They would have known that orphanage was falling apart. I could have warned her, stopped her, saved her…”

Gale is shaking his head, first slowly, then more and more insistently. His denial wracks your entire body, but you do not stop.

“My whole life, I’ve tried to protect her. To take the blows meant for her. She had so many years ahead of her. I should be dead, not her.”

Gale flinches. His hands are urgent, almost forceful, as he turns your body to face him.

“That’s not true. Please don't say that.”

You wince as he cups your tear-streaked cheeks, holding your gaze with brown fire. His chest heaves, and you feel his distress like a dagger, twisting with the knowledge that you are the source of his pain.

“Charis loved you fiercely. Furiously. She wanted nothing but the best for you. She wouldn’t want this for you. For you to be torn apart by guilt and regret over a tragedy no one could have prevented. To think it was in any way, shape or form your fault.”

His voice trembles, his eyes a stormy sea.

“No, Tav. She would want you to live. She wanted you to be happy.”

You want to cling to the thought, to the hope that Charis had. Her passion for life, her love for you. But sorrow comes like an avalanche, and you are buried in it. You are gasping, keening, weeping into his chest. You are a mangled mass of memories that hurts but never heals.

But he remains.

“There’s nothing you could have done to change things,” he whispers. “You’ve done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault.”

He presses you so tightly against him, you feel his breaths as your own. He kisses the crown of your head over and over again, his very own warding spell.

“I love you,” he says. “I'm here.”

***

You are standing in the kitchen, watching Gale stirring a simmering pot of Hundur sauce. He bobs his head enthusiastically as he relays the latest news from Kriv and Poppy. A strand of grey hair falls over his eyes, and you lean forward to tuck it away. He kisses your palm as you draw back.

You had stayed home when Gale ventured to the Yawning Portal last night. You had intended to go through some reports from recent Harper patrols, but you did not get far. Instead, you sat on the balcony with a glass of wine, staring at the stars. Thinking but not thinking. Feeling but not feeling.

When Gale returned much earlier than usual, you did not chide him. It had been an effort to convince him to go in the first place, to enjoy the company of his friends without fretting after you. You could still see the concern in his eyes when he joined you on the balcony, peppering your face with tiny kisses, as though he had not seen you for years.

You had kissed him properly for the first time in weeks, open mouthed and inviting. You could feel his yearning, raw and swollen, a surging flame dampened by worry. You reassured him that it was what you wanted, you were ready, it was alright. You had made love, wreathed in the haze of the stars - desperate and starving, throbbing with longing. And afterwards, you wept. You were relieved, so relieved, that you could still feel desire. That you were still capable of showing him your love. That having Gale inside you was still the closest you had ever come to feeling complete.

“I don’t have the heart to tell Kriv to cut his losses with Jaheira,” Gale goes on. “Though my esteemed colleague probably has that task well in hand. Better to leave such things to the experts.”

You chuckle. “Kriv doesn’t listen to Poppy though.”

“No.” Gale titters. “He doesn’t. I’m not sure how much he knows about Khalid, either.”

Gale’s brow flickers as he searches the kitchen counter. Instinctively, you pass him the pepper.

“He’s a bard,” you point out. “He’s read all the legends. And he’s done a ton of special research on Jaheira.”

“Ah.” Gale hums, his fingers a flurry of seasoning. “Then he must be an optimist as well as a hopeless romantic. To hear Jaheira speak of Khalid… She’s still married to him in spirit, and I think she always will be. New love can’t blossom in a field already full.”

You are quiet for a moment. Gale bustles around, squinting and frowning as he tastes his creation. You cannot help but smile at the intensity of his focus, his pride in everyday miracles.

“Khalid was a good man,” you say. “Compassionate and kind.”

You step forward, pressing yourself against Gale’s back, wrapping your arms around him. A sigh escapes him, a huff of busy contentment.

“He loved her,” you continue. “I think he would want her to be happy.”

Gale stops stirring. Slowly, he turns to face you. His smile is sunlight on thawing snow. He presses his forehead against yours, his arms circling your waist.

“I think he would, too.”

***

You are grizzling and grinning as you pour Gale’s sauce into jars, ready to be stored in the larder. The sauce was a mere moment away from being ruined, Gale mock-complains, because you drove him to distraction yet again. Thank the gods, he declares, for his discipline and self-control.

You are developing an appetite, in more ways than one. You suspect that the flush on Gale’s cheeks is not just from the heat of the hearth. You are dividing up the last of the sauce as briskly as you can when an afterthought comes to you.

“We need to keep a few jars aside for when Charis comes,” you exclaim. “She loves this stuff. She asked if she could take some away with her the last time she-”

Your throat closes. You cannot breathe. There is a roiling inside you as the bridges you have started to rebuild crumble to dust. You are dust and ruins, and she is gone. Never again will she savour your food or drink, or sit with you and Gale trading jests and barbs. Never again will you ruffle her hair and cuddle her close, a grown woman, formidable and fearless, but still your baby sister. Always your baby sister.

You break.

In an instant, Gale is by your side. As you fall apart, he gathers up the pieces, returning them gently to the palm of your hand. You look at him through black waves and splintered glass. His brow is steepled with sorrow, but he shines with the hope of love.

He cradles your head against his heart.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We’ll enjoy it for her.”

 ****

You are sitting together on the balcony. Within the coral sky, purple bruises turn to gold, as the sun takes its weary dive into the sea. Three boxes of Charis’ belongings rest at your feet, waiting and expectant.

It is difficult at first. Each item aches more than the last. The scent of vanilla and smoke clings to all of Charis’ clothes, assailing you with a longing that has no equal. There are things you never knew Charis kept, like the one-eyed teddy you found for her when you were ten, and the book of lewd drawings you doodled together when your uncle sent you to bed. There is the silver locket you gave her on her twentieth birthday, polished and still kept in its plush box - “too expensive to wear”, Charis used to say -and the green ribbon you used to wear in your hair, when it was longer and less unruly. 

Gale listens as you unravel the mystery of every priceless treasure. You are sobbing one moment, chortling the next, and then you sit in silence, holding one of Charis’ scarves against your face, as though you are embracing her one last time.

“It was an honour to have known her,” Gale says after a while.

You realise that he, too, is crying. You plant feather-soft kisses beneath his eyes, and when your lips meet, you can taste the tears on his tongue. His arm drapes around your waist as you lean your head on his shoulder, watching the seagulls soaring overhead. Surrounded by these last traces of her, there is pain, but there is also a kind of peace.

“For a while, it hurt to remember,” you start. “It tore me apart. I wanted so badly to forget. I wanted to forget everything.”

An image of Charis blazes in your mind. You let yourself linger on every line and curve of it. Her toothy grin. The messy dance of freckles across her nose. The white down around her hairline. A face like no other.

“Now, I want to remember. I don't want to forget anything. I want to remember it all.”

Your gaze drifts over each and every wonder that Charis cherished, the remnants of a life well-lived. A life containing multitudes, far more than three boxes of scattered possessions, more than a clumsy jumble of tales.

“So many moments in a life. So many memories.” You look down at your balled fists. “I’m losing them already. I don't want to forget.”

As your voice catches, Gale’s fingers find yours. Your anchor, constant through the storm.

“Then I'll help you remember.”

You frown at him, questioning.

“Tell me.” He smiles, his eyes warm as sun-kissed oak. “Tell me everything.”

So you do. You start at the beginning. With your hand in his, you leap through the chapters of your history, the thread of Charis’ life woven into yours like a braid. As the cloak of night falls over you, then dissolves to the birth of dawn, you laugh and cry and rage. You remember your sister in all her glory, the rough and the smooth, every feat and foible. Every memory you share is a stitch in your broken heart. Gale listens, eyes streaming, lips curling, chuckling and seething, as though he feels every memory as vividly as his own.

And when you gaze into the sunrise, you know there is no ending. In Gale’s embrace, you burn with a love stronger than death.

“I won't forget,” you promise her. “I won't forget to remember.”

*****

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[roll-for-gaslight]

I'm not sure exactly how to put my thoughts into words so pardon my rambling but I'm thinking about how Kristen, Adaine, and Fig's character growth all stems from growing into a person they always could have been in a better situation. Also, it's interesting the way the bad kids seem to bring out these parts of each other because they're healing!

Like I know it was a kind of jokey moment but Adaine's little "Fabian hit me!!!!!" versus her insistence on being independent to the point of endangering her mental and physical wellbeing! She grew up so independent, unable to ask for help because of the risk of being ridiculed. She never asks for help and holds herself to an incredibly high standard. But that's not how her childhood should have ideally gone! She was supposed to have a big sister to tattle on and fight with, she was supposed to be taken care of! The BKs make her feel safe and cared for in a way her family never did, so her character development very much means slipping into the "little sister" position she was always supposed to occupy.

Fig pushed down her natural and newly-forming personality when the very foundation of her identity changed. She threw herself so wholly and entirely into her new aesthetic and vibe and vehemently denied the version of her that came before. Now she's growing to accept herself at all stages of her life, to a version of herself that brings in the parts of both her childhood and post-tiefling personalities that she likes and forms something new that makes her comfortable.

For Kristen, losing her religion made her lose a sense of identity. Without her parents to take care of her or her brothers for her to take care of, she was suddenly accountable to absolutely no one. She has Jawbone and Sandralynn, technically, but from what we've seen neither of them actually parent her a lot. So, she leaned hard into doing whatever she wanted, living wildly, engaging in all the things she never got to before, living a life as far away from her childhood as possible, and that's reflected in her clerical work. She loves Cassandra and wants her to thrive, but hates that what that means has a lot of overlap with what it meant to be Helio's Chosen. Like the daily prayer, the proselytizing, it reminds her too much of the things she was raised to do for Helio, and the fact that Cassandra needs Kristen to take care of her makes her accountable to someone in a way that she really wasn't for a while. Now that she's in the back half of her character arc, trying to bring Cassandra back and working hard for it, she's growing a little more responsible. There have been a lot of good moments this season where she's tried to help other people outside of combat-necessary healing, such as giving Lydia Barkrock the help action and the way she reacts after Fabian attacks Adaine (which I know is technically "combat-necessary healing" but how it happened came across as very Big Sister, like pulling the crayon out of her brother's nose in the first episode, especially with how it was immediately followed not with a bit like everyone else but with "oh no fabian got possessed I hope he's okay!!!! poor fabian!!!!!"

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Part of the Action

poly!mikaelsons x human!reader

summary: you're about to be left out of yet another mikaelson plan, when an accidental mix-up happens that might convince them to let you help them. OR, you prove that you've got a lot more fire than the mikaelsons give you credit for.

tags: plotting, blood drinking

word count: 720

You lay across the couch as Klaus goes over his plan for the third time. Your legs are in Kol’s lap, while your head is in Rebekah’s. As he strokes his finger along your thigh, she’s playing with your hair, and none of you are paying much attention to the hybrid. Elijah’s trying his best to listen to his brother, but he’s consumed by a jealousy of not being able to touch you while his siblings do that makes him deaf to the plan. 

“So I’ll need one of you to distract Damon, another to distract Stefan, and-” Klaus pauses, “are any of you idiots listening to me?”

Four pairs of eyes immediately snap up to him. 

“Could you stop petting the girl for one minute so you can tune into my plan for world domination?”

“She’s just so soft, Niklaus,” Rebekah whines, digging her hands into your scalp sweetly.

“Yes, I know, but this is important.”

“So is taking time to relax and love on our little girl.”

He sighs, then looks at you expectantly. You’re only able to fight his gaze for a minute before surrendering. Both Kol and Bekah argue as you move to be sitting in between them, not touching either of them. 

“Thank you, love. Now, this is the plan. One of you distracts Damon, another distracts Stefan. I grab Elena. Y/N, you stay here, because you are not getting caught in any crossfire-”

“Why do you never let me help?”

“Pardon?”

“Why do I always have to sit out when you guys are acting out on plans? I can help. I want to help.”

“We will not risk you getting hurt, baby. It is imperative that you stay here where you’re safe,” Elijah speaks for them all. 

“If I get hurt, you can just heal me! I want to help!”

“No, Y/N. That is an order. You stay here.”

“I can’t be here all the time while you’re always fighting. What if you get hurt?”

“We will heal.”

“Well you can heal me.”

“Love, it’s a no. Now stop fighting the matter before it results in punishment.”

You glare at the two eldest brothers, but then drop your gaze and pout.

Kol immediately leans over to whisper, “we love you too much for you to get hurt, darling. Yes, we can heal you, but there’s still so much risk.”

“Fine,” you mutter. “I’ll stay back. Again.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. 

Klaus continues plotting. “I’ll only need Elena for a second, so you all only need to distract them for a little bit. Just long enough for me to make my point.”

You zone out while he talks, knowing there’s no use in listening anyway since you’re on the outs. At some point, Elijah sets his wine glass on the coffee table to stand up to talk to Klaus. Your eyes focus on it. I’m in desperate need of some wine to deal with this shit again, you think, ‘Lijah won’t mind if I steal a sip. 

In one quick motion, you reach for the glass and bring it to your lips. 

He spins around at the sound of movement, eyes immediately going wide. “Baby, that’s not wine. Put it-”

Too late. You take a big sip of the liquid. It’s already in your mouth by the time you realize it’s blood. It shocks you for a second; Elijah’s not usually one to drink blood from wine glasses - that’s usually Kol. But as it sits in your mouth, you find yourself enjoying the taste. It’s thick, oozy, and something about it makes you feel powerful. Like what once was someone’s life force is now being consumed by you. 

In one gulp, you swallow it. It’s heavy down your throat and bubbles in your stomach. The taste lingers on your lips, stained red from its color. 

You set the glass down and lie back on the couch, but not without swiping your tongue across your lips first. “What?” You question the four siblings staring at you. They’re all speechless, yet the longer you look, the more you recognize the love and lust in their eyes. 

Klaus is the first to break the silence. “Well, judging by that, maybe our beautiful and bloodthirsty girl is ready to be a part of the action.”

[clonedchaos]

Ripple Effect

Orchids and Oranges: A Yasammy Week Special

Yippee! It's Yasammy Week, brought to you by @yasammyweek! Pardon the late kickoff, had to attend my sister's bridal shower today as well as writing this 2,000 word one shot in one day. I know most ppl here are doing art, but I can't draw, so fanfic it is! Enjoy! <3

Day 1: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: G/PG

Summary: Yaz thought she had left the dinosaurs behind. She thought it was time for her to finally heal… until she came face to face with one on the mainland.

AO3 Version:

Tumblr Version:

Yaz wrapped her arms tighter around Sammy’s waist as she gradually got used to the fluid movement of the stallion below them. The saddle wasn’t the most comfortable or practical of inventions, but Sammy had insisted it was far better than riding bare back.

Yaz let her gaze wander as a smile crossed her lips and her heart gave a little flutter. The maple trees surrounding them were colored in vibrant shades of orange, red, and brown. Despite fall coming to a close, Texas was still as humid as ever. It was the polar opposite of her home upstate— the moment it hit October, the temperature would plummet. 

Yaz had gotten used to the frigid air over the years thanks to her daily morning runs. She would be quite out of her element down here if it weren’t for the months she spent stuck on a tropical island. She’d take the Texas heat over Nublar’s every single time.

And, of course, she loved Texas because of Sammy. Her parents had been the textbook definition of southern hospitality ever since Yaz came down to spend the week with them. Sammy had been a hurricane of energy and enthusiasm ever since her arrival. She talked a mile a minute at any possible opportunity and paraded Yaz around to see every nook and cranny of their land. It had been fun; she knew Sammy had been waiting a long time to introduce her officially to her family-- cattle included.

A pleasant breeze brushed past them, Sammy’s hair tickling Yaz’s nose. Yaz sneezed, the sheer power of the act nearly sending her reeling backwards.

”Bless you!” Sammy immediately chimed in, looking over her shoulder. Her hands held the reins in a loose grip as the stallion came to a stop. His ears and tail twitched. Yaz’s behavior had irked him.

“Sorry about that, bud,” She apologized, patting the horse on the flank. A whistle and nudge from Sammy ushered the stallion forward again. 

The cowgirl kept her eyes on her girlfriend. Yaz felt that wasn’t the appropriate course of action given she was the one guiding the horse down the path. It seemed almost as dangerous as taking your eyes off the road while driving.

”The trees are mighty beautiful, aren’t they?” Sammy cooed with a grin. She reached forward and plucked a leaf out of Yaz’s hair. How long had that been in there?

”It is beautiful, Sammy,” Yaz admitted. Truly, the scenery was gorgeous. The Gutierrez’s land was pure nature’s bliss, all 700 acres of it. She liked to call it “The Eight Wonder of the World.”

Sammy glanced up towards the sky, its colors glowing with muted hues of pink, blue, and purple. “It’s gettin’ late. Perhaps we should head back to the stable.” Her gaze darted to and fro before she leaned forward and whispered, “Ol Kota’s eyesight isn’t as great as it once was.”

Kota nickered in response. Yaz snorted. “I think he heard you.”

"Oh, that wasn't an insult, boy!" Sammy quickly corrected sheepishly, getting a chuckle out of Yaz. Sammy's baby talk toward her critters wasn't at all meant to be taken seriously, but Yaz couldn't help but think it was adorable. 

“I suppose you’re right. Hey, think I could beat Kota in a race?” Yaz asked with a clear undertone of a challenge. If he galloped at full speed, she knew he would be able to overtake her effortlessly. But at his old age, she might just have a chance if he were to trot.

Sammy’s eyes shone as she turned her attention back onto Yaz. “Oh, that’s a gre—“

Kota saw the Triceratops first. The elder stallion reared up onto his back legs. Yaz lost her grip on Sammy and hit the ground hard. The breath drew out of her lungs, leaving her momentarily stunned at the blunt impact. Surely that was going to leave a sizable bruise on her tailbone.

”Woah, boy! Easy… Easy!” Sammy yelped as she tightened the reins and fought for control. Yaz instinctively rolled to the side to avoid getting trampled on by hooves, just barely scraping by with nothing more than a dust cloud in her face.

With her chest heaving in gulps of air, Yaz finally lifted her gaze toward the instigator. A bulky Triceratops stood before them in the path, its head lowered and grazing on the sparse patches of grass that sprung up from the dirt trail. At the stallion’s cry of fear, the herbivore lifted its head. Its horns glinted off the dying sunlight’s rays, the tips sharpened points that could skewer her should the animal desire.

Yaz didn’t know why, but she screamed. She screamed a blood curdling cry that sent the nearby birds scattering. Her hands tore up clumps of dirt as she balled them into a fist. Her heart pounded, she could hear it in her ears and feel the blood coursing through her veins. It was getting hard to breathe. Why could she not breathe? Why couldn't she think? Why was her vision spinning? Was it a concussion, or was she losing it?

The Triceratops bellowed and raked its front leg on the ground. Despite being in fear’s clutches, Yaz subconsciously knew it was about to charge. Suddenly the aspect of getting trampled by a horse seemed far more appealing.

The Triceratops stomped forward, waving its horns threateningly. Yaz couldn’t move. She wanted to pull herself off the ground and bolt toward the nearest tree. She wanted to be safe, to be inside, to be far away from this prehistoric beast. But her body was rooted to the floor, tied down by unseen vines. Despite the adrenaline pulsing through her veins and the chilling numbness of her hands, she could only watch powerlessly as she sat directly in the line of fire.

“Yaz!” Sammy was suddenly right by her side on horseback. Quite literally her knight in shining armor. She extended a hand down to her. Yaz felt a sharp pierce plunge through her heart at the palpable fear she found lying behind Sammy's eyes. “Come on!”

Yaz still felt frozen by invisible roots. She wanted to reach for Sammy. She wanted them to huddle under the blanket fort Sammy had insisted they build in her room last night. Her and Sammy had been at checkers for nearly two hours before Sammy’s mother had called them down for dinner. She wanted to wake up in the morning and breathe in the aroma of fresh, fluffy cinnamon rolls and salted, crisp bacon. Would she ever partake in these memories again? Or would they be snuffed out, much like her life might very well be. If only she could just…

MOVE!

With one hand wrapped around the stirrup, Sammy leaned down and grabbed Yaz by the arm. Yaz knew her girlfriend was strong, like really really strong. Calling her "country strong" wasn't just a cute pet name, it was a fact.

Sammy's rapid maneuver was enough to nudge Yaz up and back into the saddle. With a quick snap of the reins and click of her heels, Sammy ushered Kota forward. The trike missed them by a hair, nearly getting clocked on the muzzle by the stallion's hooves.

Yaz had her arms wrapped around Sammy in a death grip, her face buried against her wool jacket. It felt like she was holding her breath for every second until they had made it safely to the barn. Her chest was tight and sweat rolled down the side of her head. She could barely feel her fingers besides the buzzing, staticky feeling she noticed there.

"Yaz?" 

She looked up with rounded eyes. Sammy released the reins and kicked her leg up and over as she dismounted. Immediately, she turned and extended a hand toward Yaz in a gesture of assistance. "Are you okay?"

No. No she wasn't. With a shaky breath and trembling hand, she reached out. Sammy's hands were worn with numerous callouses; no doubt a result from her long days of working hard on the ranch. Her fingers intertwined with Yaz's. At the touch, the dam holding back her tears finally broke. Yaz sank to her knees and began to sob.

Sammy was right there, kneeling down and pulling her into an embrace. "It's okay, Yaz. I'm here," She cooed, gently rubbing her back in a circular motion. 

Yaz nestled closer to her, hoping Sammy's very presence would be enough to chase away her inner demons. "I... I thought... I thought we'd be done with dinosaurs," She admitted weakly. She hated feeling like this. Vulnerable. It was like she was a little kid all over again; someone who needed to be coddled and comforted by her mother.

"I know..." Sammy replied sympathetically as she rested her head against Yaz's. "I wasn't expecting to see a trike so close to home."

It was getting a little easier to breathe now. Just a little. "Why? Why is it here?" She choked out, closing her eyes.

Sammy grew silent. Yaz didn't expect her to answer that rhetorical question. After all, how in the world would she know what a dinosaur was doing hundreds of miles from Nublar?

Rather, Sammy began to hum. Her tone lilted in a melancholic sway. Yaz seemed momentarily taken aback as her heartbeat began to steady and her limbs slackened. With every rise and fall in tempo, Yaz begun to notice an unmistakable pattern in the rhythm.

Yaz leaned back and cupped Sammy's cheek in her hand. Her eyes still stung, and she knew she probably looked like a bedraggled mess. Right now, that didn't matter. "How do you know that song?"

Sammy leaned into Yaz's touch. "Your mother taught it to me. She knows you've been having a tough time since the island..." She trailed off and averted her gaze.

Yaz relaxed her features and silently urged Sammy to continue. "She told me it used to help you when you were little... and I thought it might help in this situation," She murmured sheepishly and rubbed her arm in embarrassment with flushed cheeks.

Yaz cracked a gentle smile at that and swiftly planted a kiss atop her forehead. "It did help. I'm sorry. For freezing like that..."

"Hey, none of that," Sammy lectured sternly with a good-natured smile. She held both of Yaz's hands in her own. "Just because we're off the island, it doesn't mean those feelings just up and disappeared. But I know you, Yaz. You're the bravest, most stubborn fighter I know. We just need to take baby steps again."

Baby steps. Right. It was like running a marathon; you don't go full sprint right off the bat. You pace yourself until you're further along with the finish line in sight.

"It just... surprised me is all," Yaz continued. The fireflies casted a gentle, infrequent glow across the purple and blue painted sky. "I thought I would be over this. But what if...? What if there are more dinosaurs?" Particularly the ones that would have them for a midnight snack.

"I don't know," Sammy admitted, returning the kiss on Yaz's forehead. "But what I do know is that I'm here if you ever need me. We conquered Nublar together. And if dinosaurs are on the mainland now, we'll conquer that together too. You're stronger than your fears."

Yaz smiled and pulled Sammy close. There was one constant in her life when it came to dinosaurs: Sammy. When her PTSD got the better of her on Manta Corp's island, she was there to help ease her nerves and shift her attention toward other matters. Even if they were states apart, she knew Sammy would just be a phone call away. And that was enough.

"I'll always be here for you, mi rosa. For now, and forever."

[carmasi]

More on the High lord Mask and double standards

My friend yet again called me to complain about this and I had to go and find it. My friend said to me. Feyre knew of Tamlins state of mins, knew he was just as traumatize as she was or worse. So i asked my friend what chapter are we reading, she said 23 an d 24 ACOMF I wanted to send this as an ask to @acourtofthought but is too long spoused sorry I highlighted some things. Chapter 23

Here Feye speak with Nesta about her "high lord" Tamlin. Feyre acknowledged that Tamlin was Broken and knew he was consumed by the need to protect her, his court, and his people. Now let get this straight when she said he wanted to cage her. He kept her on the manor, but there is multiple instances where she actually goes outside of the manor on Lucien's request. where she goes hunting and freezes, and when she goes to look at the villages at the beginning of ACOMF. Even Nesta is like that, but he let you come back that one time; Tamlins only "cage" her when they have their last argument, when Feyre explodes and burns the ring. After spending time with Rhysand on night court who has the time to give her what she needs, she realizes that whatever is on spring court is not for her. this is the time when he technically "cages" her.

And through out al these we're made to think he's being delulu, and even Feyre here acknowledges that he was trying to protect her. Moving on. Chapter 24

When Cassian and the others visit the Archeron, we're introduced to how much Tamlin has done for them. Even Feyre says he had tried, but not really, which is in a way Hypocritical to say when literally a page before you're talking about just how broken he was. and still provided this much to your family (pardon my nails) Now on to Feyre Double Standards and Hypocrisy Chapter 29- 30

here she tell Rhys. you could just order things to be done, you're the high lord you do what you want. To which Rhys said, there is something Even I cannot do. (uhm let me thing like tradition and the Illyrians among other things?) And she lets it go. In a way yes Rhys was more eloquent at explaining why he couldn't do thing than Tamlin was. When she asked for the Tide to be removed. but let's see this scene, in here She is sharing a conversation with Rhysand. there is no undermining and not subject to see him falter, and yes is in a different context here because we speak about Velaris, but even when he speaks about Illyria and the clipping, is a conversation where he said he can't do much about tradition, whereas Tamlin is put in a position where his authority as High lord would be undermined, was undermined, in front of his subject when he's trying to re build this court. (i have to go back on this conversation to scan it btw). Feyre then Hates Tamlin for this, and yet. Forgives Rhysand. Which bring us to more high lord mask

Rhysand speaking to Feyre about his own court. how he LET EVERYONE see the court of nightmare and the worst of him. The thing a lot of people choose to ignore. and is that Rhysand outside of Velaris, isn't charming, isn't eloquent, he isn't kind or dreamy, he is a harsh Ruler, and bloodthirsty tyrant, and that is what everyone outside his circle sees. That is what Tamlin Sees, What Lucien Sees. Lucien himself tells Feyre " tell me what dungeon he has her in what horrors she is experiencing" when asking about elain In ACOWAR Now my last point I promise, because they don't collaborate they just thought

Many complain about Tamlin, locking Feyre up. and how he said what he said on the high lord meeting and how he didn't communicate. Now here. Rhysan. put her through so much., had her almost killed multiple times. and here even he is surprised. even Rhysand asked her " after all that?" he is surprised after everything he put her through she is still grateful. because he sends music to her cell. While Lucien went every time to heal here, but couldn't one the one time he was being lashed. Feyre of course, forgive Rhysand and shrugs it off as a joke. you FORGIVE this man for putting you in danger, almost getting you killed, all because he sent music? Of course, we know he did more, like take her out and teach her how to read and have a good time. But you won't forgive a man who "kept you licked up" to keep you safe because his own court was a mess, because he tried to keep you safe and was broken, your words were not mine. and don't come at me with the " he turned her sisters" By now e know that was Ianthe, Feyre has her that ammunition. Even after all this, you decided to turn on this man and ruin his court in the next book.

and yet, Tamlin move on, even if it hurts him, he loves you so much he gave a piece of him to bring your mate back. where he could've pulled a Rhys and tricked you into a bargain. but he didn't. And you keep forgiving Rhysand quite literally playing with your life. Okay, end of my rant. oh analysis. I can't tell at this point. (I am going to write this man POV one day cause omg)

[avariantflaire]

i called saiteru 'unconventional' but that doesn't even begin to describe them. like. saiki is ace (textual evidence: guy literally made it impossible for marilyn monroes to happen) or at least on that spectrum. teruhashi? as the prettiest girl?? who can charm anyone out of their knickers (pardon my language) if she wanted to??? the act would lose all meaning. no way physical intimacy is her love language.

teruhashi's love language is "does he see me for who i truly am" coded but subverted in an empowered "i know exactly who i am and i've proved it effortlessly thus far but saiki is the greatest challenge i've ever encountered and he might actually be trumping my worldviews". it's the 'i want a guy whose net worth is five million yen' BUT 'i like saiki' and that's more important than everything else. i don't think he ever actually changes her mind about things. but he DOES become one of her most important people, and that implies a compromise. a change in the approach, not necessarily in the attitude.

you see this with saiki as well. he never really shakes off the 'romance is a no go' attitude, but his approach to teruhashi definitely DOES change. it's still 'trying to get involved with me is a waste of time', which never really changes, except that now 'i can't give her to any of you' becomes the priority, the way he deals with her.

saiteru is unconventional in that the characters themselves never, at their core, really change; it's not an "i can fix them/heal them/change them" story, it's a "there's someone just as important to me, if not more important to me, than what i think/say/do."

it's the way they push each other's comfort zones, break/exceed each other's expectations, and in the process not only solidify who they they are, but also crack the valuation of these identities just enough for development to happen. saiteru is the process, not the ending. i daresay all the best relationships are.