#So peaceful and beautiful I want to live there

[fantasybuff3186]

So I did a thing because i was bored. What do you think?

“Hey Delilah.” Todd suddenly asked, breaking the peaceful silence he found himself in with his girlfriend. “Yes Todd?” she was quick to answer as she looked up smiling from the book she was reading as Todd sighed contentedly, he’d always liked how attentive she could be to him. It didnt matter what she was doing or where they were, she always responded whenever she was close by. He counted himself extremely lucky to have such a beautiful and kind girlfriend and he tried to remind her of this everyday with small gestures like gifting her pink chrysanthemums(her favourite flowers) from the garden he specifically grew for her or by making her favourite dishes which he had specifically learnt to make for her. All Todd really wanted was to make sure his princess, his everything lived the most comfortable and the happiest life she could.

“Um Todd, you wanted to say something.” his girlfriend interrupted his thoughts. “Oh yes sorry, I just wanted to ask what you’re reading.” he said on being brought back to reality. “Oh I’m reading Hamlet.”

She answers immediately causing him to frown. “All over again?” he enquired to which she nodded her head enthusiastically, making him smile, he always enjoyed her enthusiasm and even more when she spoke with the same enthusiasm like she was right now.

She said, “its just such an interesting story and I really like Hamlet’s character in the story! Hes the only character I find interesting….” Todd couldn't hear the rest as he got lost in listening to her voice, so sweet, so beautiful and so kind.It was only when she tapped on his shoulder that he was jolted from his thoughts.

Once she was sure she got his attention she asked hesitantly, “D- did I bore you?” the hesitation and fear on her face made his heart wrench as he immediately touched her cheek and reassured her, “Hey hey nothing like that, I just got distracted, I love to hear you talk and sometimes your voice is the only thing I can focus on.”

On hearing that she smiled, flattered by his compliments as she shyly returned the compliment, “I like listening to you speak too.” Now it was Todd’s turn to blush at the compliment.

“Oh um..” he trailed off as she continued to speak, “But you know what I like the most?”. He looked at her curiously and raised his eyebrows quizzically as she asked, “What is it?”

Delilah spoke sincerely, “I like it when you smile, that sweet, sincere smile because when you smile like that all my fears, my worries seem to drift away. I like it when you smile but I love it even more when you laugh, that rich, comforting laugh. The laugh that fills my entire being with pleasure, that laughter that feels like the warm sun, that which sounds sweeter than music, sweeter than the ripest mango. So tell me Todd, why aren't you laughing?”

She said as her skin became bone,her face frozen in an expression of pain as she leaned against a tree, his hand still touching what was her cheek.

Write a happy story without conflict. Then with the last sentence, turn it into a horror story.

[pinkslipxox]

Could you write something about reader and Billie having a very natural home birth and Billie being so supportive and attentive

hey mami! Omg yes! Hope you like it 💞

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The warm glow of the late afternoon sun spilled softly through the windows, casting a golden hue across the cozy living room. Y/N leaned against the plush cushions of their bed, her heart racing with both excitement and nervousness. She was ready, really ready, to welcome their little miracle into the world. This home birth was exactly what she wanted, surrounded by love, comfort, and the familiar warmth of her own space.

Billie, her wife, moved around the room with a mix of excitement and anxiety, her vibrant green hair caught in a messy bun. She had planned this day meticulously, ensuring everything was in place for Y/N’s comfort. Every now and then, Y/N would catch Billie glancing at her with wide eyes, a mix of awe and concern etched across her face.

“Hey, my love,” Y/N said, her voice gentle as she sat on the edge of their bed. “You okay?”

Billie stopped in her tracks, her eyes softening. “I’m just… You’re so amazing,” she replied, her voice laced with admiration. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Y/N chuckled softly, feeling a wave of warmth wash over her. “We’re doing this together, remember?”

Billie nodded, taking Y/N’s hand and squeezing it tightly, as if to ground herself in this moment. “Yeah, together,” she repeated, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Billie's hands were gentle as they intertwined with Y/N's, the warmth of their touch grounding. She looked into Y/N's eyes, which shimmered with a mix of anticipation and determination. "You’re doing amazing, my love," she continued, kissing Y/N’s forehead softly. It was just the two of them, with their midwife quietly preparing in the background, ensuring everything was perfect for the home birth they had envisioned together.

As the first contraction hit, Y/N felt a wave of pressure ripple through her body. She took a deep breath, focusing on the soothing rhythm of her breath, the way Billie’s hand stayed firmly in hers. “Just breathe with me,” Y/N whispered, closing her eyes for a moment of focus.

Billie knelt beside Y/N, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You got this, love. Breathe in… and out. That’s it,” she encouraged, her voice a soft melody. “I’m right here.”

Y/N felt calmer, her mind anchored by Billie’s unwavering presence. As another contraction came, Y/N squeezed Billie’s hand tightly, and Billie winced slightly but didn’t let go. Instead, she leaned in closer, her forehead resting against Y/N’s, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. “You’re incredible. Look at you, my beautiful warrior. Just a little bit longer, and we’ll have our baby.”

The words wrapped around Y/N like a warm blanket, filling her with strength. She focused on Billie’s voice, allowing it to guide her through each wave of pain that came and went.

“You’re doing amazing, Y/N,” Billie said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just think of holding our little one in your arms. I can’t wait to see you as a mom.”

Y/N smiled through the discomfort, imagining the moment when they would finally meet their baby, the culmination of their love. “Me too, Billie,” she replied between breaths, feeling the reassurance wash over her.

As the contractions continued, Billie stayed close, constantly checking in with Y/N, brushing her hands against her belly and whispering love-filled affirmations. “You’re so strong, my love. Everything is going to be perfect.”

With each contraction, Y/N felt power coursing through her body, a primal instinct that was both thrilling and terrifying. Yet through it all, Billie was by her side, unwavering in her support. She brought a cool cloth to Y/N’s forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that formed, and the simple act brought another wave of peace.

Hours passed, and the effort was evident on Y/N’s face, but Billie remained there, unmoved and devoted, and Y/N couldn’t have imagined a better partner to share this moment with.

Finally, when the moment approached more swiftly than Y/N had anticipated, she found herself gripping the bed, breathing through the intensity. “Billie, I—I think it’s time,” she panted, her heart racing with the realization.

Billie’s eyes widened, a mixture of excitement and concern flaring in her chest. “Okay, okay! Just keep breathing. I’m here. You can do this. Remember, you’re my goddess.”

Y/N nodded, feeling empowered by Billie’s words even as the contractions peaked. “I love you, Billie,” she whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Billie replied, her voice filled with pure affection. “You’re my everything.”

With Billie’s and the midwife’s encouragement keeping her grounded, Y/N summoned all her strength, embracing each wave, guiding her body as she prepared to bring their baby into the world.

As the incredible moment approached, Y/N was engulfed by a mix of sensations—pain, excitement, and overwhelming love. Billie held Y/N’s hand tightly, never leaving her side, whispering constant reassurances and reminders of the joy that awaited them. “You’re almost there, love. Just one more push.”

With a final surge of determination, Y/N pushed through the pain, and Billie’s voice became a symphony of praise, urging her on. “That’s it! You’re doing it! Just a little more!”

And then, in a whirlwind of emotions and sensations, it happened. A beautiful cry filled the room, and Billie’s face lit up with joy. “We did it! Oh my god, Y/N, look!”

Y/N blinked through tears of relief and happiness, her heart swelling as Billie cradled their newborn, bringing the tiny bundle closer. “You did this, Y/N! Our baby is here!”

With shaky hands, Y/N reached out, gently touching her baby’s cheek, feeling the warmth between them. “Hi, little one,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Billie leaned in, kissing Y/N tenderly on the forehead. “You’re incredible, princess. I’m so proud of you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

In that moment, as they gazed upon their newborn, Y/N knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—two devoted wives, now proud parents, forever united by their love and this beautiful journey they had shared.

[spiderb00]

Crochet Hearts - Sakura Miyawaki

Sakura Miyawaki X Reader 

Synopsis - A cozy night with your girlfriend. 

Genre – Fluff 

a/n - I have no words to describe how much I loved writing this! <3

(btw, reader is only a year younger than Sakura)

Soft jazz played in Yn's room, the low lights along with the beautiful melody made the room feel extremely cozy. On the bedside table were two steaming mugs of lemon-and-lemon tea, and the aroma of the scented candles, which Sakura lit, spread throughout the room. In bed, the two bodies followed different paths, but always connected.   

Sakura seemed focused on her handicrafts, the woman loved to do her crochet things, in moments like this Sakura could relax and only do something she liked around the person she loved. Meanwhile, next to the older woman, Yn had her head engrossed in a book, the story had captivated the younger woman, and now she was one hundred percent steeped in another world.   

The only thing that reminded her of reality was her girlfriend's legs on top of her thighs. Yn ran her hands over Sakura's defined thighs according to the saxophone melody, oh, how Yn loved that.   

Lowering the book from her vision, Yn looked at the art in the hands of Sakura, her girlfriend with a smile on her face, happy to have finished another piece. Closing the book, Yn had now placed both hands on top of Sakura's thighs, now raising her hands every second. 

"You look even more beautiful when you're focused, you know?" Yn says as she leans over to kiss the older woman on the cheek. While Sakura lets out a giggle.   

"Can I say the same thing about you, how can you be so beautiful just by reading it?" Sakura said, her hand reaching out to scratch the back of Yn's neck, making the younger woman shiver instantly.   

"You can't do this to me." Yn said, taking her girlfriend's legs off her and leaning over, so that her face was level with Sakura's face. 

"And why not?" Sakura said, immediately placing her two hands around the back of the younger woman's neck.  

"It makes me want to end the peace we are in now." Yn said.  

Leaning further, their lips touched, a simple kiss, two simple kisses, three, four, until their tongues finally met in the kiss. Sakura lying down, pulling the younger girl along with her. With Yn lying on top of the older girl, her hands flew into the pajamas Sakura wore, the warm skin of the Japanese woman brought comfort to the younger woman. Yn felt that she could stay there for the rest of her life.   

The women's kiss seemed to fit perfectly, the background music and crackles of the kiss that the couple exchanged was the only thing that could be heard inside the room. And as much as the two would rather die breathlessly than separate, they knew they needed to let go, if only for a moment.  

Leaving kisses on the older woman's lips, Yn pulled away settling into the side of the Japanese girl's body, her hands still tracing patterns on Sakura's exposed abdomen. The younger woman admired every detail of the Japanese woman while Sakura returned the look. The two of them couldn't look away, pure, dense love, everything seemed so beautiful, simple, poetic.   

Sakura tucked a lock of hair behind the younger woman's ear.   

"I could spend every day of my life, every hour and minute, like that, with you." Sakura said as she pressed her lips into a thin line, humidifying them right after.  

"I would drop everything if you said you wanted to live like this for the rest of your life." Yn said laughing.   

"It was what I wanted most in the world. But while we can't do that, I want to enjoy every moment like that." The Japanese woman said, leaning on her elbows and stealing a kiss from her girlfriend's lips.   

Yn laughed, leaning in and kissing back, making Sakura lie her back on the mattress again.   

"I love you."  

"I love you." 

YES, first story outside of Katseye.

I want to start writing for the other GG's that I like and that was the official start for that.

[hyperions-light]

A home in life, a berth in death, a house of many mansions: the Necropolis fucks

Before the game came out the Necropolis was one of the top five places I was hoping they would let us visit in Thedas and I'm so thrilled it did not disappoint! The architecture, the atmosphere is impeccable, the reactivity everywhere (cleansing the Vault of the Beloved, the secret room that appears, the skeleton workers that begin cleaning different areas as the game progresses), the detail in everything. Did you know that in the room where you get the codex entry about the flesh-eating beetles, you can look down and see them running across the floor? Love it!

But the environment itself is only an aspect of what makes the Necropolis so much fun; the insight we finally get into Nevarran culture is possibly the most important thing that comes out of it. The only Nevarran we've really met before was Cassie (love her, she was not very informative, though), so to actually get to meet people who serve as stewards to one of the most sacred cultural rites is incredible and exactly what I wanted from this game. I loved discovering their unique perspective on magic, and how they handle their Templar Order.

It's also a fascinating lore point to discover that Emmrich can speak to the dead; we've never actually encountered a REAL ghost in DA, I don't think. There have been things which appeared to be pieces of once-living people, but it could always be explained by 1) weird magic causing them to live past their normal lifespan 2) a spirit acting as a dead person. Emmrich makes a distinction between speaking with real dead people and imbuing a once-living body/articulated skeleton with a spirit. This is so cool and interesting! And they've been doing this consistently and regularly, to talk to the late King Markus! All the magic applications in this game make the South seem so boring lol (but that's for another post).

And I love that the Necropolis itself is considered alive by the Watchers! It moves and rearranges its own configuration in accordance with some sort of unknown will; is it partially built inside the Fade? Is it imbued with magical energies, like Arlathan was? How old is it? Is the reason it functions this way because it's so old that it predates the separation of the Fade from the material world, or is it just that the Veil is thin there? Are the Lichlords the ones directing the Necropolis? How? So many interesting implications and questions brought up by just the building itself!

I think my favorite thing about the Necropolis and the Watchers, though, is how they present death. Most of the cultures that we've encountered so far in Thedas view death as a universally negative thing, but the Nevarrans celebrate its place in the cycle of existence. In the gardens, which are such a beautiful, peaceful location, there's a puzzle you can do where you have to turn on a series of meditation bells in a specific order to get into a treasure room; when you put together the poetry accompanying each bell in the correctly, they describe (metaphorically) the movement of a person through life and into death. It's such a gorgeous little detail, and I love the way the Necropolis is designed to encourage the player to think about death (it also folds in so neatly to Emmrich's personal plotline!), especially since it is so integral to the game as a whole (yet another different post).

Visiting Blackthorne Manor and picking up mementos in the Necropolis shows that, this death positivity is, in fact, a pervasive cultural attitude. Nevarrans believe that they have a duty to each other that persists after they die; that the body can keep being useful; that the living should honor the dead. It's such an interesting perspective that was missing from the DA series; people die all the time, and, of course, it's intended to make the player sad, but DA has never seriously discussed death, its implications, what it truly means or how it affects those left behind. They've never really made you sit and look at it as the player. There are some sad lines after Leandra dies in DA2, but it's mostly in the narrative to give Hawke a reason to hate blood magic and stuff. There's no funeral. There's a few lines from Gamlen, Hawke, and your companions, and then the game moves on. It's always like that; the game gives you a moment to be sad, and then it moves on. There's no mourning. But this game is partially about mourning! It's about people being gone, and it being too late; it insists you look at death and deal with it, and the Necropolis is the epitome of this.

The game asks the question over and over what you think the characters should do in response to their own losses, and the Necropolis represents are really interesting, nuanced, answer to that question. They're not gone; they're right there. They're still with you. You can go and visit them and celebrate who they were in a place that honors and cares for them, still. It's so beautiful and interesting and full of love, for the living and the dead.

I didn't even talk about Emmrich's plotline or the class differences in the Necropolis, or how everyone there is a weird goth nerd and I love it so much, but I think that's really the important point: the symbiosis. The living; the dead; the spirits; the corporeal, all finding a way to be together.

[bat-mom-writer]

Rage and Redemption Part 3

Bruce Wayne X Adapted(Female) Reader

Summery: After losing your parents, staying at a unloving orphanage, you are adapted by Bruce Wayne. But you make it clear to him, that you don't want to live with him and that you plan to make him regret taking her in. While Bruce makes it clear that he's not give up on you and he'll be there to help you heal.

Rating: slight angst, cursing, flipping the finger, happy ending?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 coming soon

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A week goes by and you find yourself in the back of Ms. Jenkin's car, the leather seats sticking to your skin from the nervous sweat. You don't know where you're going, only that Ms. Jenkins had told you to get dressed and pack your things. You've never been off the orphanage grounds since you arrived, and the outside world seems to buzz with a strange energy that makes you both anxious and excited.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask, your voice edged with defiance and a hint of a smirk. "Are you finally throwing me off a bridge like you threatened?"

Ms. Jenkins' eyes narrow in the rearview mirror. "Your humor is as distasteful as your behavior," she snaps, her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

You shrug, unbothered. "So, where am I going?"

Ms. Jenkins' grip tightens on the wheel. "To your new home," she says through clenched teeth.

"As if," you murmur under your breath. "New home." The words taste sour. You've heard that before. The "new home" was just a new set of bars, a different cage with different faces.

"Do I at least get my picture back?" you spit out, the question burning on your tongue like a live coal.

Ms. Jenkins' eyes meet yours in the mirror, cold and unyielding. "You'll get it when you learn to behave properly," she repeats, the words sticking to the air like a bad smell.

You lean back in the seat, arms crossed over your chest, staring out the window as the cityscape passes by. The buildings grow taller, the cars shinier. You've never been to this part of Gotham before. It's cleaner, brighter, and a stark contrast to the grimy streets you've come to know. The sight fills you with a mix of anger and envy.

As the car approaches a massive, iron gate, it slows down. You can see the name "Wayne Manor" etched into the metal, surrounded by lush greenery and a sense of peace that feels eerily out of place in the chaos of the city. Above the gate, a camera swivels into view, the speaker crackling to life. "Name," a disembodied voice asks.

Ms. Jenkin looks to the camera, her smile forced and brittle. "Ms. Jenkins, Bruce Wayne should be expecting me," she says, her voice tight with annoyance. The gates to the Wayne Manor begin to swing open, revealing a sprawling estate that seems to breathe wealth and opulence, a stark contrast to the stark reality of the orphanage. The car glides up the winding driveway, the tires whispering over the gravel.

You find yourself captivated as you gaze out the window, your eyes wide and unblinking, taking in the breathtaking landscape that unfolds like a beautiful painting. The sprawling lawns are a lush sea of vibrant emerald green, stretching endlessly toward the horizon, their gentle undulations mimicking the waves of an ocean. Scattered throughout are perfectly manicured gardens, bursting with colorful blossoms and lush foliage, each one looking as if it has been lovingly curated from the pages of a whimsical fairytale.

Ahead of you stands the manor, a majestic edifice of weathered stone and lush ivy that appears to rise organically from the earth. Its grandeur is both imposing and enchanting, with tall, pointed gothic arches that reach skyward and intricate stonework that tells a story of bygone elegance. The windows, set like glittering jewels within the façade, catch the sunlight, reflecting it with a dazzling brilliance that transforms the whole structure into a shimmering beacon of beauty. The scene is a harmonious blend of nature and architecture, creating an inviting yet mysterious atmosphere that beckons you to explore further.

The car stops in front of the grand entrance, and Ms. Jenkins turns the engine off before turning in her seat to you, her eyes bore into yours, "I don’t want to see you again after today. You are to be a perfect child to Mr. Wayne," she says, her voice cold and unforgiving. "Because I wouldn’t be taking you back," she adds, her voice dropping to a whisper, "You can take your attitude and your brattiness to the streets, I don’t care. Just don’t come back to me."

You grin, not out of joy, but rather out of spite. "Yeah, sure," you say, mimicking her sweet tone. "I'll be as perfect as you are."

The sarcasm hangs in the air like a toxic fog, and Ms. Jenkins' eyes narrow. "This is your only chance at a real home," she says, her voice a warning. "Don't throw it away."

With a jerk, she opens the car door and stands, gesturing for you to get out. You do so with a dramatic sigh, dragging your trash bag with very little belongs, and slamming the door behind you. The sound echoes through the quiet, serene air of the manor's grounds, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city.

You approach the imposing front door, which seems to loom over you, taunting you with its grandeur. Before you can knock, it swings open, revealing a stern-faced butler dressed in a crisp, black suit. His eyes sweep over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the tension that practically radiates from your every pore.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor," he says, his voice as cold as the marble steps you ascend. You follow Ms. Jenkins into the foyer, where the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers fills the air. It's a world away from the stale odor of the orphanage, and your nose wrinkles in an involuntary reaction to the unfamiliar smells.

The grandeur of the manor is overwhelming. The high ceilings are painted with scenes of mythological battles, and the walls are adorned with tapestries that tell ancient stories of valor and honor. The floor is made of gleaming black and white tiles that seem to stretch into infinity. You feel like an ant in a palace, insignificant and out of place.

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps, measured and precise, echoing down the grand staircase that spirals up into the heart of the manor. Your heart races as Bruce Wayne descends, his figure cast in shadow until the last step brings him into the light. He's dressed in casual clothes, but there's something about the way he carries himself that screams power and wealth.

"Hello," he says, his voice warm and surprisingly gentle. "It's nice to finally make your acquaintance properly. I'm Bruce." he extends his hand.

You look at his hand for a moment, contemplating the gesture. Then, with a smirk, you bring your hand up, not to shake his but to give him the finger, flipping him off with a twist of your wrist.

Ms. Jenkins gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "You little-!" she starts to scold, but Bruce holds up his hand, silencing her. He smiles, a ghost of amusement flitting across his face, and takes a step closer to you, leaning down with his hands on his knees.

"I see you've got some fire in you," he says, his eyes twinkling. "That's good. You're going to need it."

You cross your arms and scoff. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bruce's smile turns into a grin. "It means," he says, his eyes never leaving yours, "that I know you're not a quitter. And I'm not either."

He stands back up, his towering presence seeming to fill the room. "Thank you, Ms. Jenkins," he says calmly. "Alfred will see you out."

Ms. Jenkins sputters, but Alfred steps forward with a nod, taking her by the elbow. "Right this way, ma'am," he says, guiding her out of the room with surprising gentleness.

The door closes with a soft click, leaving you and Bruce standing in the opulent foyer, the silence heavy with anticipation. For a moment, you just stare at him, your heart thudding in your chest.

"Well," Bruce says, breaking the tension. "Why don't I show you your room?"

"You mean my cell?" you reply with a sneer.

Bruce chuckles, a warm sound that seems out of place in the cold, unfeeling world you've come to know. He leans down again, his eyes searching yours, and says, "I mean your room, where you can keep your things, sleep, and maybe even find a bit of peace." He stands back up, the smile on his face unwavering.

He starts up the stairs, his steps echoing through the cavernous foyer. The tapestries whisper secrets as you follow him, your sneakers squeaking against the polished marble. The grandeur of the place feels like a prison, each step further inward a silent confinement to a gilded cage. But something in his eyes gives you a glimmer of hope—a hint of understanding, perhaps.

As you reach the top of the stairs, he points to a long hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking ancestors. "There are rooms for each of the boys I've adopted. Dick's is there," he points to the first door, "Jason's is next to it," he indicates the second door, "Tim's is down there," he nods to the third, "And Damian's is at the end."

You raise an eyebrow. "You have more prisoners?" you say, trying to keep the sarcasm from your voice.

Bruce laughs, the sound surprisingly warm. "I like to think of them as… part of the team," he says, his smile not reaching his eyes. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. This," he opens the last door on the left, "is where you'll be staying."

He opens the door, and you step into a bedroom that's bigger than your entire old apartment. The walls are a soft blue, the color of a quiet night sky, and the bed looks like it could swallow you whole. There's a desk with books lined up neatly, a wardrobe that seems to stretch on forever, and a window that looks out over the lush gardens.

"What? No swimming pool?" You deadpan, trying to keep the awe out of your voice.

Bruce chuckles, the sound bouncing off the walls. "No, there's one right outside. But I'm sure you'll find your tub to be more big enough," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes. "Very funny," you mumble, moving to the bed and dropping your trash bag on the floor with a thud.

"But if you don't find that satisfying enough," he walks to two double doors on the opposite side of the room, "your library is right through here." He opens the doors to reveal a space that takes your breath away.

The walls of the cozy room are lined from floor to ceiling with sturdy wooden shelves, each one brimming with books in diverse shapes and sizes, their spines a kaleidoscope of colors. In the middle of the quite room a charming swing chair hangs from the ceiling, gently swaying back and forth as if inviting you to settle into its embrace. The soft creak of the chair complements the soothing ambiance of the room.

In corner, the warm glow of a crackling fireplace casts a flickering light, illuminating the space and creating a welcoming atmosphere. The dancing shadows throw whimsical patterns onto the plush, deep-colored carpet, enhancing the feeling of warmth and comfort.

A beautifully designed window seat, framed by large, arched windows, is tucked into the bay, overflowing with an array of sumptuous velvet cushions. These cushions, in rich jewel tones, beckon enticingly, inviting you to sink in and find a cozy spot to immerse yourself in the pages of a captivating book.

Overall, the room serves as a tranquil sanctuary, a perfect escape where you can lose yourself in fantastical worlds, far removed from the harsh and gritty reality of Gotham outside. It is a haven for readers and dreamers alike, nurturing the imagination and offering solace in its warm embrace.

You wander over to the swing, tentatively giving it a push. It glides back and forth with a gentle, soothing motion that feels alien to your jaded soul. The books on the shelves seem to whisper promises of adventure and solace, each one a gateway to a new life. You reach out to touch one, the spine cool and smooth under your fingertips as you pull it out, the title blurring before your eyes as you struggle to read it.

"I don't like to read," you lie, the words feeling like sandpaper against your tongue. You drop the book onto the floor with a thud that seems to echo through the vastness of the library as if you've committed some great betrayal.

Bruce watches as you leave the library, the lie hanging in the air like a forgotten echo. He knows you're lying—it's written all over your face, in the way your eyes lingered on the book, in the gentle caress of your fingertips on the spine. But he says nothing, allowing the moment to pass.

He follows you back to your bedroom, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet that muffles the sound of his heavy boots. The doors swing shut behind him with a soft click, closing out the rest of the world. The room feels smaller now, the grandeur of the manor receding into the background as he stands in the doorway, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"If you don't like to read," he asks gently, his voice a soothing balm to your jagged nerves, "then what's something you do like?"

You look at him for a long moment, weighing your words. "Why do you wanna know?" you ask, jumping onto the bed, the mattress sinking beneath your weight. You bounce once, twice, a childish act that feels surprisingly liberating in the face of his expectant gaze.

Bruce doesn’t flinch, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step into the room, his posture relaxed yet commanding. "Because," he says, his voice soft, "I want to get to know you. I want to understand what makes you tick. And maybe," he adds with a small smile, "I want to help you find a way to heal."

You scoff, the sound of a harsh bark in the pristine silence of the room. "Heal?" you repeat, your voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm fine." But even to your ears, the lie sounds hollow.

Bruce crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes never leaving yours. "We all have scars," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "Some are just more visible than others."

You roll your eyes, the smirk never leaving your face. "Spare me the motivational speech. I've heard it all before," you reply, your voice a sneer.

Bruce's smile falters for just a moment, but he quickly recovers. "I'm not here to give you a speech," he says, his voice firm. "I'm here to offer you a home and a family."

You snort, the sound echoing in the large room. "I don't need a family," you spit out, your voice harsh. "I don't need anyone."

Bruce's eyes darken slightly, a hint of sadness flickering across his features before it's quickly masked. "Everyone needs someone," he counters, his voice firm.

"Not me," you reply, "I don't need you or your pity. I'm just fine on my own."

Bruce's gaze remains steady, his eyes piercing through the facade of anger you've built around yourself. "You may think that," he says calmly, "but I've seen the look in your eyes when you think no one's watching. I know you're hurting."

"You don't know anything about me," you spit out, your fists clenching tighter. The words are a challenge, a barbed wire fence you've constructed around your heart, daring him to try to get through.

Bruce's gaze doesn't waver. "I know enough," he says, his voice low and even. "I know that you've been through something unimaginable. I know that you're hurting, and I know that you're scared."

You laugh, a harsh, bitter sound that fills the room. "Scared? Me?" you challenge, taking a step closer to him. "You think I'm scared of you?"

Bruce's expression remains calm, almost serene. "I don't think you're scared of me," he says, his voice steady. "But I do think you're scared of letting anyone in. Letting anyone see the pain behind that tough exterior."

You snarl, the anger burning in your eyes. "That what you think? You think I'm just this sad, little girl who's lost everything?"

Bruce doesn't flinch. "No," he says, his voice calm and even. "I think you're a survivor. You've been through hell and come out the other side. And now, you're trying to keep everyone at bay because it's easier than letting them in and getting hurt again. You act up, push people away, because you think that's the only way to protect yourself. But it doesn't have to be that way."

You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over. His words cut through the armor you've so carefully constructed, exposing the raw, tender wound beneath. You want to scream, to yell, to lash out at this stranger who seems to see right through you. But instead, you clench your fists even tighter.

"I think I should make something clear, old man," you say, your voice low and steady, the smirk on your lips growing into a full-blown grin. "I don't plan to be a sad story for you to tell at your fancy parties. I'm going to make sure your life is a living hell. You'll regret ever taking me in."

Bruce's smile never falters, his eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. "Is that so?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, your smile a challenge. "You just watch me," you say, the smugness in your voice unmistakable.

Bruce leans down, his gaze locking onto yours. "I think there's something you should know then," he says, his voice a gentle rumble, "I'm a big believer in seeing the best in people. And I see something in you, something that's worth fighting for. So, go ahead, test me. I've faced worse. But want I want you to know is that no matter how much you push, I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. Not unless you really want to."

You glare at him, the fire in your eyes burning brighter. "I'm no quitter," you say, your voice filled with a fierce determination that surprises even yourself. You've lived on the streets, faced the Joker, and survived an explosion. You're not about to let a fancy manor and a billionaire who thinks he can save you break you.

Bruce walks to the door, his hand on the knob. "Dinner will be served in an hour," he says, his tone still calm. "I'll have Alfred show you around until then. Oh and, " he adds with a hint of mischief, "try not to cause too much trouble before then, okay?"

You shoot him a look that could set the curtains on fire. "Sure thing, pops," you say with a smirk, the words dripping with sarcasm. Bruce chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you can't help but feel a strange warmth in your chest. It's been a long time since anyone has tried to tease you, to treat you like a normal kid.

But you're not a normal kid, are you? You're a survivor of the Joker's wrath, a girl who's been through hell and back, and now you're standing in the bedroom of a billionaire's mansion. It's all too much to process.

You wander over to the bedside table, drawn by the glint of something shiny. There is a small, simple frame. Your heart skips a beat when you see your family photo inside—the same one that had been in the purse you stole.

With trembling hands, you quickly pick it up, taking it out of the frame. The glass is cool against your fingertips, the edges sharp. You bring the photo closer to your face, breathing in the scent of home that seems to cling to the fading ink. You trace the outlines of your mother's nose, and your father's eyes, memorizing the contours of their faces as if you could bring them back to life with enough willpower.

For a moment, you're lost in the past, in a time before the fire and the chaos. Before the Joker and the pain. But then the reality of your present crashes over you like a cold wave, and you realize that this is your new reality. The orphanage is behind you, and Bruce Wayne is your new...what? Savior? Father? Jailer?

Bruce watched from the gap in the doorway as the girl discovered the family photo, his smile gentle and knowing. He'd placed it there on purpose, hoping it would offer some small comfort amidst the overwhelming change. The way she held it to her chest, eyes scanning the familiar faces, told him more than any words could about the depth of her pain.

As she traced the outline of her mother's nose and her father's eyes, Bruce felt a pang of sorrow for her loss. He knew what it was like to have your world torn apart, to feel the burning rage of injustice. But unlike him, she was still so young, her wounds fresh and raw.

He stepped away from the doorway, allowing her a moment of privacy with her memories. He knew she needed it, needed to feel the pain and anger without the burden of his watchful gaze. The hallway outside was silent, the manor's grandeur a stark contrast to the quiet, personal battle playing out in the room behind him.

Part 4 coming soon

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[spoocys-glade-of-dreams]

"Sure. We can talk."

Raymona smiled when Rayman said he wanted to know more about Dimension X. She held that smile as she began to recall from her own memory.

"The land is different in each area. My home was a place called The Glade of Dreams. A tranquil forest area primarily inhabited by Teensies or Giant toads. It was a peaceful place to live and I lived there with my brother figure and my creator, Ly. She was a type of fairy called a "Wild One." The waters ran crystal clear, and you never had to worry about going hungry. Food was plentiful. Groves upon groves of fruit and nut trees along with berry bushes. So many types of edible mushrooms and plants. Plums that are big enough to ride on!

That was before the rabbids came. They were constantly opening portals between worlds to try and invade them. I ended up jumping through one of them as the world started to change. It was getting harder and harder to survive and I just... I hopped through one of those rifts and landed here. I eventually ran into the guy I proudly call my brother and now I live with him and his boyfriend in a beautiful townhouse here in the city. He also came here from Dimension X and tries to decorate the place like it was his own little patch of green."

The way she acted when he nuzzled her back, he was enjoying it, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝. But her words made him to tilt his head sightly, what does she mean with that ﹖Nobody said that to her in a genuine way ﹖Why ﹖

“ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚎... 𝙽𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕... 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘... 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 ﹖𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 ��𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚇. 𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚢... 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 ﹖”

A question that got his real interest, he didn't know part of his past, for not say the big mayority of his past.

[horsemeatluvr23]

hermit a day may is here ohohoho ramble about my goals for this month under the cut :3

i am so excited about this art challenge.... drawing people is a huge weakness of mine and so i am going to use this as a way to practice/improve my skills while also fuelling my autism with special interest content ... i am a traditional artist so these are all gonna be sketchbook drawings :3 constructive criticism is welcomed i really want to learn n improve during this month!!! going to be trying to use different materials and rly getting out of my comfort zone - some of these drawings aren't gonna be artistic masterpieces but i want to share them all no matter how i feel about them as a way to document my journey!!! looking forward to doing some collage, using markers, coloured pencil, maybe watercolour too :0

[doublel27]

So did everyone else ugly cry throughout Peaceful Property 4/4 or was it just me?

[wonder-worker]

"It is too easy to dismiss [Leonor of Navarre] as an overambitious schemer who would do anything to obtain a crown, shedding the blood of her own siblings and her subjects in order to attain the throne. However, a deeper investigation of her long lieutenancy and ephemeral reign shows a woman who fought tenaciously to preserve her place but also worked tirelessly to administer a realm which was crippled by internal conflict and the center of the political schemes of France, Aragon, and Castile. She tried to broker peace, fight off those who opposed her, repair the wounds caused by conflict, protect the sovereignty of the realm, and keep the wheels of governance turning. Leonor was not always successful in achieving all of these aims but given the background of conflict and the lack of cooperation she received from all of her family members, bar her loyal husband, it is a huge achievement that she survived to wear the crown at all. Many writers have argued that Leonor deserved the troubled lieutenancy, personal tragedies, an ephemeral reign, and a blackened reputation, basing their assumption that she committed a crime that cannot be [conclusively] proven. However, a more fitting description of her would be that of a resolute ruler who successfully overcame a multitude of challenges in order to survive in a difficult political landscape and gain a hard-fought throne.”

-Elena Woodacre, "Leonor of Navarre: The Price of Ambition", Queenship, Gender and Reputation in the Medieval and Early Modern West, 1060-1600 (Edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz)

[uhohitsdorian]

Sometimes I think about borealopelta and start crying from the sheer volume of emotion it stirs within me

[Image: a simplified drawing of Borealopelta markmitchelli, an ankylosaur, laying curled up on its belly, perhaps to sleep. It has chunky limbs and a purplish-red body covered in spikes, particularly along its sides. It looks sweet and comfortable. End ID.]

[bookshelfdreams]

.

[boxwinebaddie]

it’s the way a lot of my ask memes could be done a lot sooner but i keep accidentally starting beyond beef with people who i presume are going to try and grief me,

( aka uncle nina in her angry girl jerseykyle scare-ra )

[cocoa-coated-fish]

life is made in the little things. I'm being so serious. It's having a clean house, it's doing the dishes even when you're sad. It's eating 3 meals a day when you don't want to. It's heating up leftovers and knowing you cooked that to nurture your mind and body. It's buying a sleeper sofa so your friend can be comfortable when she comes to visit.

Six years ago, I didn't know if I would be here.

Two months ago, I wouldn't have been able to do all these things that give me great peace.

Just...things are good.

[iniziare]

Now these are some serious thoughts that I'm having, and I'm also having them for specific reasons that I'll note at the end of this post (or its own separate one, we'll see):

— I don't see how Jing Yuan wouldn't know about the deal that Jingliu made (which I still firmly believe to have been with Lan), because otherwise I don't see how he would blindly trust her to go about the Luofu. Because ultimately, he could trust her as much as he wants to because of their past, but he also witnessed how she lost all control, and subsequently fell to the mara. The trust in this scenario isn't in her, it's in whatever it is that’s restraining the mara. — On that note, I don't see how he would trust anything tied to that, unless it was tied to someone or something that he trusts: Lan. Yes, Jing Yuan himself is another reason why I believe it's the Lan, the Aeon that opposes Yaoshi. — Keeping this in mind, it makes this final sentence to Jingliu extra interesting in my opinion: 'Then I will see this gamble through.'

On that note, as a treat to myself because I'm so close to signing my lease, and because I desperately crave to write the male muse in this franchise that I love the very most (listen, I'm happy to see my two big favorites in Genshin written well, but I just want to write my actual male favorite in HSR myself as well on top of seeing great portrayals)— no matter how popular he too, is. Jing Yuan, welcome home.

[kitsune-kaos]

Finally finished Attack on Titan. My God. Just. Wow.