#also this is long so I haven't read through all of it as much as I did the others | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 20 hours ago

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Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#genuinely one of the loveliest reviews I've ever recieved 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback

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bunni-v1 · 3 days ago

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Bunni that lighter x virgin reader was so GOOD??? YOUR BRAIN SO BIG?? it got me all embarrassed reading it, I had to take breaks in between cause the image of soft dom lighter is just so abgssngausgahstshh???? (I was also blasting ‘Like You Mean’ It by Steven Rodriguez when I was reading ur fic like oh god this song fits lighter so much 😳)

Aaaanyways I was wondering if you have any hcs for the day after lighter takes readers first time or any after care that he’d do? Also bit of a tangent but do you think lighter is the type to have cheesy nicknames for his partner like idk…sugar? Pumpkin? Or would he go the normal babe and doll type

Sorry it’s a bit long, I’m just happy to see lighter writers you all are a blessing thank you for the food 🤲🏼

🍓Hello lovely! Sorry I took so long to get to this, I'm p sure the hype around that fic is over, but this has been on my mind for so long and I just haven't had the motivation. I got some now, though, so here it is! (this is less headcannons and more a whole fic in bulletpoints lol) I hope you enjoy <3

TW: Day after; Alludes to previous sexual intercourse; Grammar Errors

Info: Lighter x Reader; Fluff; Headcannons

-You wake up to sunlight filtering in through the small crack between Lighters blinds, the warmth on your face a kindness that calls you to stir to life. There's a heavy weight across your middle and on your chest, accompanied by a different type of warmth -- human warmth.

-Your eyelids flutter open and, of course, you see your beloved partner Lighter curled up into your chest. He looked so peaceful resting like this, like all his worries had melted away from his mind and into the sheets until he woke up.

-You bring your hands up to play with his fluffy hair, smiling when he huffs a bit in his sleep, burrowing himself further into your chest if that is possible. Even in sleep he was trying to find ways to get you closer to him...

-Though he'd technically gotten you as close as possible last night if the dull ache inside you was telling enough. You could feel the sting in your hips already, and you would certainly limp a little when you got up, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

-His green eyes blink up at you after a while of playing with his hair, foggy and glazed from sleep. He still finds it in himself to smile affectionately at you, and you can't help but smile back.

-"G'morning beautiful," He rumbles out, voice rough from his moaning last night, "Sleep well?"

-You nod at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his puffy lips in appreciation. That was answer enough for him and he lifted his weight off you in favor of leaning over you.

-He asks you if you're aching anywhere, and promptly massages your hips with the calloused pads of his fingers. The friction still surprisingly pleasant, and the ache in your hips eases up a little. It warms your heart, the amount of care he treats you with.

-He'll coo at you sweetly as he tries his best to ease the pain, mumbling about how much he enjoyed last night. How pretty you are. How much he loves you. How grateful he is you trusted him. All the sweet nothings.

-He takes the morning uncharacteristically slow, having been excused by Caesar apparently, or so he claims. He lazes around with you, happy just to have you in his arms for a while. You do, however, have to get up at some point which he grumbles about when you move to roll out of the sheets.

-You were right about the ache in your hips, you end up limping your way to the shower, and standing for the duration of it sucks. Lighter offers to help you out, but you insist on doing it by yourself (you wouldn't be able to keep your hands to yourself if you'd let him).

-Instead, you let him pick out some old clothes of his to wear, since yours don't exactly smell the best at this point. A too big t-shirt and a pair of sweats that no longer fit him find their way to your arms

-He waits for you patiently, like a puppy locked away from its owner during work hours. It's very cute. He's dressed now, cleaned up by himself while you were gone it seems. He practically leaps to greet you, pulling you into a sweet kiss. You hadn't expected him to be so clingy, but it was incredibly charming.

-He guides you carefully through Blazewood to get breakfast from Cheesetopia -- or, brunch more like it. You figured after your first time you would be a bit awkward, but Lighter didn't allow you any room for that. All was as usual, assuring you that nothing major had changed. Which, why would it have?

-Well... there was one thing...

-Caesar sat in a booth as you walked in, and the grin on her face said it all. She waved you over, and Lighter begrudgingly helped you over. You do your best to hide the limp, though it's absolutely futile with Caesars next words.

-"Have fun last night you two?" She teases, and humiliation washes over you -- Lighter's cheeks also turning a deep red, "No need to answer. We all heard you last night."

-Obviously, everyone around here knew of your relationship with Lighter... they didn't need to know the details. When you don't answer in your fluster, Caesar scoffs and waves her hands playfully. "Just kiddin', I stopped by to check up when you two disappeared. Congrats though!"

-She leaves you to eat after nearly giving you a heart attack, and you happily enjoy what you ordered. Feeling incredibly hungry after the night you had. Lighter doesn't seem to interested in his food, though. Just watching you with that same intensity from last night.

-You ask what's wrong, and he smiles wide at you, "Nothing, just admiring what's mine."

-You don't respond to that, because there's nothing you could say that's nearly as smooth as that.

Bonus:

You had me thinking about the nicknames a lot. I think that he definitely uses babe and baby the most. It's simple and easy to say, and people won't bat an eye if he calls you something like that. But he has other nicknames he uses you, some for specific situations, others just because he likes to switch it up sometimes.

Sugar is something he uses almost exclusively during sex. It's his way of coercing you into letting him take care of you, especially when you're acting all shy like it's an inconvenience. Or when you're afraid to make noise, "Lemme hear ya, Sugar~ Don't be shy~"

Darling is one that's more common to hear him throw out at random. However, it does have a specific use: scaring off other people. When someone is getting a little too friendly, he'll watch for a while until he can't bear it anymore and he has to intervene. He'll wrap his arms around you from behind, press a kiss to your temple, and ask "How're you feelin' Darlin'?" With a sharp glare at the offender

Doll is one that he likes to use to get you to squirm, almost always accompanied by a handsome grin. He uses it more to placate you when you're upset at him in a playful way. Like when his fangirls get a little too excited and upset you, he'll take your face in his hands and hum out, "Y'know they're not even half of what you're worth to me, doll. Stop your worrying."

Pumpkin I hadn't considered, but I think he uses it in private when it's just the two of you. It's a soft kind of thing he uses when you're really warming his heart. Curled up into his side half asleep, you'll hear him whisper it into the crown of your head, "I love you, Pumpkin."

#x reader #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz #zenless zone zero #lighter zenless zone zero #bunni babbles 🍓#zenless zone zero lighter #lighter #zzz lighter #zzz lighter x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #zzz lighter lorenz #lighter lorenz #zzz lighter lorenz x reader #lighter x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #lighter zzz #lighter zzz x reader

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valkyrieromanoff · 2 days ago

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Hii dear ❤️

I just love all your hayden christensen works so much.

I have a request where Reader plays padme's role and during all the shooting for the movie they fall in love with each other and eventually they get married and evan is also very protective of the reader and sees her as a younger sister. You can add scenes like the movie interviews or press tours.

I have searched for a fic with this idea for so long but haven't found one. 😔

Plz I would really be glad if you do a fic regarding this idea. It's also ok if you can't do it no pressure dear 😊

Love ❤️

Taker care

🎀YOU AS PADMÉ X HAYDEN CHRISTENSE: THE LOVE STORY🎀

synopsis: in the bustling backdrop of a New York casting call in 2000, you meet Hayden Christensen, an enigmatic young actor vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. A shared screen test ignites an undeniable chemistry, blurring the line between performance and reality, and leaving you both with a lingering sense that this is only the beginning of something extraordinary.

words: 1.1k

warning: not based on real events, fluffy, hint of romance

a/n: hello there, I was SO hyped when I read your idea—it’s seriously brilliant and such a vibe! ✨ Honestly, I’m super honored you trusted me to write this with you 💖. IDK if you were thinking of a one-shot, but I was imagining turning this into a mini-fanfic (like 10 chapters or so?) to really explore all the phases of their relationship—the tension, the feelings, the growth, all of it 🫶.

I hope you love what I’ve written so far, and PLEASE feel free to share your comments or opinions—they’re totally welcome and super important to make this story the best it can be for everyone! 🥰

CHAPTER ONE: CASTING

The sun was beginning to dip behind the Manhattan skyline as you stretched in your chair for the hundredth time that day. You’d been at this since the early morning hours, reading the same lines over and over again with a rotating cast of hopeful actors vying for the role of Anakin Skywalker. George Lucas had been clear about what he was looking for—a young man who could embody Anakin’s volatile mix of rebellious passion and burgeoning darkness. But after dozens of auditions, no one had quite nailed it.

Some actors were technically good but lacked the raw, unpolished edge George wanted. Others had the right look but couldn’t summon the emotional depth required for the role. And as the hours wore on, your excitement for the project was slowly being drained away by the monotony of the casting process.

You exhaled heavily, flipping through the well-worn pages of the script in your hands, your mind wandering to thoughts of escaping the stifling audition room and stepping into the brisk New York air. That’s when you heard his name.

“Hayden Christensen.”

Your eyes snapped up as a young man walked into the room. Honey-blonde hair framed his face, and his quiet confidence filled the space effortlessly. He wasn’t overly polished like so many of the others. There was an air of authenticity about him, as though he didn’t need to try too hard to be noticed.

Your gaze lingered on him as the casting director pointed out where he should stand. He nodded, offering a small, polite smile to the room before taking his mark. There was no unnecessary bravado, no nervous fidgeting—just a focused calm that intrigued you instantly.

When he began his lines, it was as though the room shifted. His voice carried a raw vulnerability, his delivery perfectly balancing Anakin’s simmering anger with the aching, earnest desire for connection. It wasn’t just an audition; it was as if he was Anakin Skywalker.

For a moment, you forgot you were supposed to be evaluating him. His intensity drew you in, his words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You found yourself leaning forward in your chair, captivated. It was the first time all day you’d felt the spark of something real, something electric.

“(Y/N), are you ready?”

Your name snapped you out of the trance. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, as one of the assistants handed you the pages for the scene. Your heart was racing, and you didn’t know why. All you knew was that you were about to step into that scene with him.

The moment you walked up to Hayden, he looked at you, and for a split second, the rest of the room seemed to disappear. His eyes, an arresting shade of blue, locked onto yours, and you felt a spark—like the ignition of a lightsaber. He smiled, a small, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, and suddenly, the world felt different.

When the scene began, your eyes darted to the script once or twice, double-checking your lines to ensure everything was perfect. But as the words fell from your lips and his presence seemed to pull you in, something shifted. The boundary between reality and performance blurred, and suddenly, you were no longer reading lines—you were living them. The emotions, the conflict, and the forbidden pull between your characters surged through you like a tidal wave.

“I can't. We can't. It's just not possible,” you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. It wasn’t just Padmé speaking; it was you, every syllable laced with an ache that felt startlingly real. Your heart, unbidden, protested against the logic of the line, just as hers would.

Hayden’s blue eyes locked onto yours, their intensity almost startling. They were so bright, so alive, but within them swirled a mix of hurt, longing, and something deeper—something that made the air between you feel impossibly charged. His voice was low, thick with a quiet desperation as he stepped closer. “Anything’s possible. Padmé, please listen…” His hand extended toward yours, trembling slightly, as though he couldn’t help but reach for you.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe. The warmth of his hand brushed yours, and an unfamiliar spark danced up your arm. Your fingers almost curled instinctively toward his before you pulled back, forcing yourself to remain in character.

“You listen,” you countered, your voice soft yet firm, filled with a mix of resignation and sorrow. “We live in a real world. Come back to it. You’re studying to become a Jedi Knight. I’m a Senator. If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, they will take us to a place we cannot go… regardless of the way we feel about each other.”

The words came effortlessly now, as though they belonged not just to Padmé but to you. And as you spoke them, you noticed the way Hayden’s expression shifted—how every ounce of his being seemed to pour into the scene. He didn’t just act. He felt. And in his eyes, you saw it too—a connection, an unspoken understanding that transcended the lines on the page.

With each passing moment, the distance between you closed, not just physically but emotionally, spiritually, as if this moment was fated—destined to unfold exactly this way. By the time you finished your last line, the silence in the room was almost deafening, the air charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The sound of applause jolted you from the trance-like state, breaking the fragile spell that had wrapped itself around the two of you. You blinked, stepping back instinctively, though your chest still felt tight, your heart still racing. George Lucas and the rest of the team stood clapping, clearly thrilled by the chemistry that had just unfolded in front of them.

You forced a smile, stepping back farther to give Hayden the moment he deserved. He was speaking with George now, his body language a mix of excitement and relief. He was the chosen one. Everyone in the room knew it. He had just won the role of a lifetime.

Yet, even as you lingered in the background, trying to focus on the buzz of conversation around you, you felt it—him. His gaze. It burned softly, like sunlight warming your skin even when you weren’t looking. Over the shoulders of directors and producers, he stole glances your way, as if drawn to you in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

And then there was you. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settled in your chest, making it harder to think clearly. You couldn’t quite place it—was it admiration? Excitement? Curiosity? It felt like all those things and more, tangled into a knot that you didn’t want to unravel just yet.

You didn’t know where this would lead, or why you felt so certain that this was only the beginning of something bigger. All you knew was that, somehow, you were eager to find out.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #Hayden Christensen Headcanons #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen appreciation

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mirandasidefics · 2 days ago

Text

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 13

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Reader and Ruhn have a heart to heart and your friendship finally begins to move forward. Those from Midgard also learn some interesting information from their most recent trip.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Some mild spoilers for Cresent City 3. If you haven't read this series, or this book I highly recommend that you do as parts of this story will make much more sense in the next chapter.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. December was an extremely rough month for me. I'm going to be talking with my psychiatrist about a possible medication change to see if that will give me some more energy and focus without adding to my anxiety.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 Pt2 Next: Chapter 14

Ruhn didn’t even register that he had fallen asleep until he turned over and a bright light attempted to penetrate the darkness of his closed eyes. Groaning, he turned back over, his arm draping over the plush body next to him. A soft gasp caused Ruhn to open his eyes to find (e/c) orbs staring directly at him.

“Uh…” Ruhn cleared the gravel from his throat as he gave the woman a sheepish smile, “Hi?” (Y/N) glared at him for a brief moment. Ruhn held his breath waiting for her to berate and kick him out. However, her expression softened before she pressed her forehead against his chest.

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from.

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows.

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.”

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right.

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes.

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.”

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.”

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral.

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him.

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him.

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up.

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to.

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side.

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her.

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared.

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her.

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her.

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.”

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold.

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.” She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind.

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.”

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend.

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia.

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person-

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door.

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa.

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world.

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available.

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured.

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds.

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again.

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?”

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin. You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included.

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was.

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.”

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp.

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-”

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap.

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box. “Glow in the dark.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow.

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes.

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed.

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking.

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice.

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction.

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him.

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.” His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder.

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers.

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them.

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years.

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?”

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted.

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status.

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything.

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.”

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.”

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King.

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs.

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s.

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.”

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat.

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction.

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?”

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.”

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you-

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face.

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.”

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you.

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless.

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes.

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation.

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.”

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

The crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

#acotar x reader #crescent city x reader #bhinfic #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x you #ruhn danaan x reader #ruhn danaan x plus size reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x plus size reader #ruhn x you #ruhn x y/n #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x plus size reader

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 days ago

Note

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

#art summary #ask #The privilege is honestly mine; to be able to create comics and have had people rooting me on since the beginning really means a lot.#To everyone who the potential I couldn't and continues to stick around: Thank you so very much.#I cannot emphasize enough that I do see you. I do notice those who regularly like/reblog/comment.#I notice when people who haven't been around come back and mass like/reblog posts.#There are some people who have only *ever* liked my posts or have only ever lurked! I notice! I am so thankful!#At the risk of also sounding cheesy; I'm honestly happy to give back whatever I can to my audience.#Knowing I have brought people a little bit of joy to their day with my silly comics makes every long night worth it.#I probably make a longer post about it in the future; but last year when I made my first comic redraw-#-was the same day I got the news that someone very beloved to me passed away. I was in such deep grief I couldn't respond to comments.#But I still read them and I mean this earnestly; even though I was smiling through tears -#everyone's kind words truly helped make a pretty dark month a lot brighter. I probably would have crumbled without the support.#What really gets me is this: it was never directed at trying to cheer me up. It was just earnest kindness towards a stranger making comics.#If you've ever wondered 'hey does PD-MDZS know how much I appreciate their silly comics?'#know I have also sat here and thought 'Hey does this person know how much I appreciate seeing them in my notifications?'#Which also includes you! Mina BNHA you will always be associated with the cool person who's been rooting for me B*)#I wish everyone a wonderful new year; may all our creative endeavors be something we see as an exciting discovery.

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they-didnt-last · 6 months ago

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anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

#okay incoming rant about this series #i read the first book when i was 10 or 11 and i was absolutely obssessed with it. i read it so many times i had the entire story memorized #the issue was that i could not find the rest of the series anywhere. it was either sold out or out of stock #and then i found out that only the first 3 books had been translated into my first language so at that point i kinda gave up on them #anyway #flashforward to a couple of weeks ago #i was re organizing my bookshelf and on the back i found LYKY (is this how y'all are abreviating it??)#and remembred how much i loved it #and since i'm now fluent in english and was stuck at home recovering from a surgery i decided to download the entire series and read it #to find out what the fuck happened afterwards #long story short i read all six books in 4 or 5 days #and i haven't stopped thinking about them since #it's actually so funny how little information we have in the first book #i went all of these years thinking it was mostly a silly series about a boarding school for spies when actually SO MUCH happens afterwards #i can't believe i went all of these years unaware of zach goode's existence #truly character of all time #but also i can't stop thinking about how interesting it would have been if zach had come to hate the circle and his mom during the series #rather than before #make it a true enemies to lovers #and have us witness that portion of his character developement in real time instead of being told about it #like him slowly realizing through cammie and his time at gallagher that maybe what they were doing is wrong #i think it would have been very interesting to read #although let's be real it took me until halfway through book four to trust him and he was fully one of the good guys so..#but yeah i have a lot more to say but these tags are long enough #gallagher girls #okay i just want to add another funny anecdote about my experience with this series #my copy of LYKY has an age warning in the back recomending that readers should be above 13 yo to read it #and i distinctly remember finishing it and thinking the warning was kind of dumb bcs besides a few mentions of death and other heavier topi #nothing really happened #and now i realize it was a warning for the rest of the series not just the first book because jesus fucking chirst everything after

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longagoitwastuesday · 7 months ago

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So so indebted to u for posting those lovely illustrations from Cyrano <333 & even more so for yr tags!! I'm completely in love w yr analysis, please feel free to ramble as long as u wish! Browsing through yr Cyrano de Bergerac tag has given me glimpses of so many adaptations & translations I'd never heard of before! I'll be watching the Solès version next, which I have only discovered today through u ^_^ As for translations, have u read many/all of them? I've only encountered the Renauld & Burgess translations in the wild, & I was curious to hear yr translation thoughts that they might guide my decision on which one I buy first (not necessarily Renauld or Burgess ofc). Have a splendid day & sorry for the likespam! 💙

Sorry for the delay. Don't mind the likespam, I'm glad you enjoyed my tags about Cyrano, and that they could contribute a bit to a further appreciation of the play. I loved it a lot, I got obsessed with it for months. It's always nice to know other people deeply love too that which is loved haha I hope you enjoy the Solès version, it may well be my favourite one!

About translations, I'm touched you're asking me, but I don't really know whether mine is the best opinion to ask. I have read... four or five English translations iirc, the ones I could find online, and I do (and especially did, back when I was reading them) have a lot of opinions about them. However, nor English nor French are my first languages (they are third and fourth respectively, so not even close). I just read and compare translations because that's one of my favourite things to do.

The fact is that no translation is perfect, of course. I barely remember Renauld's, but I think it was quite literal; that's good for understanding the basics of the text, concepts and characters, but form is subject, and there's always something that escapes too literal translations. Thomas and Guillemard's if I recall correctly is similar to Hooker's in cadence. It had some beautiful fragments, some I preferred over Hooker's, but overall I think to recall I liked Hooker's more. If memory serves, Hooker's was the most traditionally poetic and beautiful in my opinion. Burgess' is a whole different thing, with its perks and drawbacks.

Something noticeable in the other translations is that they are too... "epic". They do well the poetic, sorrowful, grief stricken, crushed by regrets aspects of Cyrano and the play in general, but they fall quite short in the funny and even pathetic aspects, and that too is key in Cyrano, both character and play. Given the characteristics of both languages, following the cadence of the French too literally, with those long verses, makes an English version sound far too solemn at times when the French text isn't. Thus Burgess changes the very cadence of the text, adapting it more to the English language. This translation is the one that best sets the different moods in the play, and as I said before form is subject, and that too is key: after all, the poetic aspect of Cyrano is as much true as his angry facet and his goofy one. If Cyrano isn't funny he isn't Cyrano, just as he wouldn't be Cyrano without his devotion to Roxane or his insecurities; Cyrano is who he is precisely because he has all these facets, because one side covers the other, because one trait is born from another, because one facet is used as weapon to protect the others, like a game of mirrors and smoke. We see them at different points through the play, often converging. Burgess' enhances that. He plays with the language itself in form and musicality, with words and absences, with truths masking other truths, with things stated but untold, much like Cyrano does. And the stage directions, poetic and with literary value in their own right in a way that reminded me of Valle Inclán and Oscar Wilde, interact with the text at times in an almost metatextual dimension that enhances that bond Cyrano has with words, giving them a sort of liminal air and strengthening that constant in the play: that words both conceal and unveil Cyrano, that in words he hides and words give him away.

But not all is good, at all. Unlike Hooker, Burgess reads to me as not entirely understanding every facet of the characters, and as if he didn't even like the play all that much, as if he had a bit of a disdainful attitude towards it, and found it too mushy. Which I can understand, but then why do you translate it? In my opinion the Burgess' translation does well bending English to transmit the different moods the French text does, and does pretty well understanding the more solemn, cool, funny, angry, poetic aspects of Cyrano, but less so his devotion, vulnerability, insecurities and his pathetism. It doesn't seem to get Roxane at all, how similar she is to Cyrano, nor why she has so many admirers. It does a very poor job at understanding Christian and his value, and writes him off as stupid imo. While I enjoyed the language aspect of the Burgess translation, I remember being quite angry at certain points reading it because of what it did to the characters and some changes he introduces. I think he did something very questionable with Le Bret and Castel-Jaloux, and I remember being incensed because of Roxane at times (for instance, she doesn't go to Arras in his version, which is a key scene to show just how much fire Roxane has, and that establishes several parallels with Cyrano, in attitude and words, but even in act since she does a bit what Cyrano later does with the nuns in the last act), and being very angry at several choices about Christian too. While not explicitly stated, I think the McAvoy production and the musical both follow this translation, because they too introduce these changes, and they make Christian as a character, and to an extent the entire play, not make sense.

For instance, once such change is that Christian is afraid that Roxane will be cultured (McAvoy's version has that infamous "shit"/"fuck" that I detest), when in the original French it's literally the opposite. He is not afraid she will be cultured, he is afraid she won't, because he does love and appreciate and admires those aspects of her, as he appreciates and admires them in Cyrano. That's key! Just as Cyrano longs to have what Christian has, Christian wants the same! That words escape him doesn't mean he doesn't understand or appreciate them. The dynamics make no sense without this aspect, and Burgess (and the productions that directly or indirectly follow him) constantly erases this core trait of Christian.

Another key moment of Christian Burgess butchers is the scene in Arras in which Christian discovers the truth. Burgess writes their discussion masterfully in form, it's both funny and poignant, but it falls short in concept: when Cyrano tells him the whole discussion about who does Roxane love and what will happen, what they'll do, is academic because they're both going to die, Christian states that dying is his role now. This destroys entirely the thing with Christian wanting Roxane to have the right to know, and the freedom to choose, or to refuse them both. As much as Cyrano proclaims his love for truth and not mincing words even in the face of authority, Cyrano is constantly drunk on lies and mirages, masks and metaphors. It's Christian who wants it all to end, the one who wants real things, the one who wants to risk his own happiness for the chance of his friend's, as well as for the woman he loves to stop living in a lie. That is a very interesting aspect of Christian, and another aspect in which he is written as both paralleling and contrasting Cyrano. It's interesting from a moral perspective and how that works with the characters, but it's also interesting from a conceptual point of view, both in text and metatextually: what they hold most dear, what they most want, what most fulfills them, what they most fear, their different approaches to life, but also metatextually another instance of that tears/blood motif and its ramifications constant through the whole text. Erasing that climatic decision and making him just simply suicidal erases those aspects of Christian and his place in the Christian/Cyrano/Roxane dynamic, all for plain superficial angst, that perhaps hits more in the moment, but holds less meaning.

Being more literal, and more solemn, Hooker's translation (or any of the others, but Hooker's seems to love the characters and understand them) doesn't make these conceptual mistakes. Now, would I not recommend reading Burgess' translation? I can't also say that. I had a lot of fun reading it, despite the occasional anger and indignation haha Would I recommend buying it? I recommend you give an eye to it first, if you're tempted and can initially only buy one.

You can read Burgess' translation entirely in archive.com. You can also find online the complete translations of Renauld, Hooker and Thomas and Guillemard. I also found a fifth one, iirc, but I can't recall it right now (I could give a look). You could read them before choosing, or read your favourite scenes and fragments in the different translations, and choose the one in which you like them better. That's often what I do.

Edit: I've checked to make sure and Roxane does appear in Arras in the translation. It's in the introduction in which it is stated that she doesn't appear in the production for which the translation was made. The conceptualisation of Roxane I criticise and that in my opinion is constant through the text does stay, though.

#I have a lot of opinions about translations in general tbh but this is not a semi clear case like in Crime and Punishment #in which there's one detail that a translation must do for me to recommend it (it used to be the one but now in English several do it)#I wouldn't recommend Burgess as a first approach to the play‚ but having already read the play and knowing the text and characters #and how Burgess may modify it‚ then I wouldn't not recommend it because it is the best in form in many aspects #And while he fails in direct concept‚so to speak‚ form is particularly important in this play and in conveying concept and characterisatio #So idk personal taste is it I guess? Again I am not an English or French native #I vehemently recommend reading the play in French if you can and haven't done so already #Even best if you want a translation to read the translation alongside the French text #to see how the translation bends the play in form and subject #Anyway... Sorry for the long delay and the too long reply. I always end up talking too much #Oh by the way I think I saw you talk about the blood/tears motif in the act IV in some tags? It's not just act IV #The tears/soul motif is repeated through the entire text linked to Cyrano and is opposed to the body of Christian #That's why the culmination in the last act and the tears in the fourth hit so much #Like the constant of Cyrano being linked to the moon and the darkness while Roxane is the sun and the light #And also I would argue the 'pearled perfection of her smile' is not an unidentifiable trait or intangible #It's poetic and metaphoric but it's a description of her teeth. Small‚ straight‚ white. Perfect teeth. That wasn't so common back then #It's quite common in classic literature to find poetic references of good teeth spoken of in these terms #Anyway...#I hope you'll find some use in this that would make the insufferable wall of text worth some of the time at least #After all time spent is a little death. I would have hated to kill a fragment of you for nothing haha #Cyrano de Bergerac #Did I tag asks? I usually delete them after a while so I think I didn't? I never recall #I talk too much #That will suffice #Hmmm it's useless in any case. I think I've talked for over twenty tags before tagging that #A wall of text and somehow I ramble in the tags nonetheless ugh #I will reread this in a bit to see if it's coherent enough. The little screen of the phone always makes me lose track of things when I writ

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theokusgallery · 1 year ago

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Since you have a lot of opinions about Sunflower fics, do you have any recommendations :p? I do generally agree with you about the derth of good works on them - kind of hoping for something I've maybe slept on.

Okay, I'll try,

First of all — I want everyone, and I mean everyone to read Coda for a Crestfallen Caitiff by MercuriallyApathetic, who also wrote The Strange Summer of Sunny Whatshisface (still one of my favorite longfics to this day but a lot more lighthearted). Coda is a masterpiece, it makes me insane, it is criminally underrated, I want to inhale its essence, and when I first read it it gave me a panic attack and a mental breakdown that lasted three straight days (/pos). Definitely read the tags and prepare yourself mentally but JESUS CHRIST I need everyone to read it. Please. You will regret it for a few hours but it is... an experience. To me at least. And to the two people I recommended it to who gave me feedback.

Then there's sunflower seeds in the rearview mirror by @andrewwtca which remains probably my favorite multichapter OMORI fic of all time (you might spot my essay-comments in the later chapters, I love this fic so much. I didn't end up writing one for the last chapter but man did it hit me hard). Very intriguing with a captivating style and an unreliable narrator mechanic that I am absolutely in love with. Everything by that author is excellent.

We have, of course, literally everything by BetweenDisorders. Arsenic is partly inspired by one of their fics ! (you know the one.) Their characterization of both Sunny and Basil (but especially Basil, because I'm gay) makes me froth at the mouth. Their style is very recognizable and honestly one of the best I've ever seen. But more generally, they have really original and intriguing ideas (like communication, in which Basil and Sunny are two computers... Did I mention how I'm a sucker for original/unique plots and premises enough yet) and everything they do is something you've never seen before. It's amazing.

Note to Self: Don't Be Gay in Faraway Town by witheredahlia is also very, very good. It's a lot lighter, but it still made my gay little heart ache, because I'm a sucker for misunderstandings done correctly (fight me).

Detective Sunny by Det_Sun is genuinely one of the most creative, fascinating OMORI fics I've seen, and also way too underrated. It's an excellent read, and there's a bunch of ideas in it that you know go deeper than what is shown, and it makes my brain go at the speed of lights. Many many thoughts about this one. (Side note: I fucking love it when there's unexplored ideas in fics. Makes my brain go brrr. Not everything has to be shown and when I see hints of "behind the scene" thoughts and character background that isn't discussed much but still implied, my brain becomes a feral animal. I don't know if that makes sense...)

#im recommending fics that can be morally be read by/recommended to everyone because i know my demographic #but i literally just went through my bookmarks and ooh'ed and ahh'ed at every other fic so i linked them lol.#i'm not linking 'the telltale of a recovering megalomaniac' by shootingstarlightt because im trying to link underrated things #but it's also very good.#there's also Drying on the Steps by DeepFriedBasil but i can't recommend it because i haven't finished reading it !!#but it's so intriguing and unique and you can spot me in the comments of the first few chapters trying to make sense of it all.#I didn't link Culinary Conversations for the same reason (I have yet to catch up on it unfortunately) but it's MAGICAL it's INCREDIBLE #I NEED MORE FICS THAT WRITE STRANGER LIKE THIS. PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE #on the topic of characterization: Sunny & Mari Edition™ we also have Mari Doesn't Die At The End by CoreyWW #and The Very Best by nullmeh. both are very very good.#Deep Down We're Still The Same Kids by witheredahlia is also great from what I remember but I... don't remember much #there's some fics in my bookmarks i just... don't remember. oops.#...i hope this post isn't too long. i'm leaving some stuff in the tags because linking them in the post would've made it 3ft long #and also because when i give fic recs I feel like I have to arguments it and for some of those I don't really know what to say except Good #please read Coda for a Crestfallen Caitiff. please.#rant #omori #ask #ephemeralspirit-blog #fic recs #most if not all of these are sunflower btw ! i basically only read sunflower.#sorry to my fellow ze[...]ae lovers btw. i'd recommend them but. again. i know my demographic #arsenic #<- i tag every single mention of him for someone who had it blocked sorry

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beedreamscape · 2 years ago

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I think what is missing with 4-sided Dive that Talks Machina had was a third party to have those character discussions with. It's not the same with a fellow PC. Also someone with interviewing abilities, sometimes I feel like they meander so much.

And I do like to watch them talk, I do watch old episodes of AWNP, fireside chat, etc, but for discussing the game/campaign I think the mechanics of it muddles with the flow.

I personally feel no value is added from the tower of inquiry or the cup questions, though I don't mind the game playing at the end since at this point who had their curiosity satisfied can simply leave, but answering while playing which they tried doing at least once I watched didn't work at all.

Edit: Btw when I say no value is added I mean the format (being in a cup, pulling from the tower) and not the questions themselves.

#and. idk about y'all. but the broom bit just goes over my head #does anyone actually find that funny?#i can see some of them either don't want or don't like 'hosting'#them reading off the teleprompter also ruins the mood #i wish there was someone prepared to guide them through these conversations #maybe not dani bc she's prone to adding her own insights. which i like! but not in a host #SOMEONE TO CONTROL SAM #i *love* him but he derails so much #anyway. I'm not saying 4sided dive is doomed. but I think it has a *long* way to go before it's on TM level #unless you hated brian then all I'm saying must sound like bs xD #AND btw i have no nostalgia for TM. I hopped on this train in c3 and I haven't watched c2 #i just really enjoyed their conversations #talks machina #4-sided dive #critical role #cr stuff #4 sided dive #(late addendum: this was written b4 the shitty dude's debacle. im really sad he ruined to show for everyone that admired him in the past #BUT i still recognize the value it had. not just from his hosting but from the format. the questions submitted #while my opinion remains. my admiration for him does not. i still wish for a host for the new show. obviously someone different)

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kikuism · 2 years ago

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just finished jade legacy

#wow. that was a Journey. the passage of time in this book made me so emo.....#watching them grow older and the CHILDREN GROWING UP SO FAST really got me :(#so much happened in this book it was insane but so so good and so satisfying #ayt madashi had me on my toes until the very end she is Ruthless #im never getting over ru :((( that made me cry. hated that so much it was JUST AN ACCIDENT and that makes it so much worse #seeing the kaul children as literal babies and then slowly growing into full adults over the course of the book just #made me that much more attached :((#also not me and my delusional ass somehow hoping anden and lott would become a thing hgkshfjdhf #ah well #ALSO BERO. this man is fucking cockroach. i love it. he was definitely one of the reasons this series was so enjoyable #love how he thought of himself as part of this grand myth bc of everything he's been through #it's so interesting to see this grand epic story of the kauls play out alongside this tiny thread that is bero’s life #he was such a big part of it but at the same time.....he was just a nobody #the part that really made me so so heartbroken and burst into tears was when #hilo was standing over lan and kehn and tar’s graves :((( his brothers all gone.....i cried #i could Feel how exhausted he was but how he had to pull himself together for the clan #AND THEN RU :((((((#idk man i have many thought none of them are coherent and i just finished a 700 page book but it's been an INCREDIBLE journey #im so glad i read these books. wow. i never ever expected to get THIS invested.#i haven't had such visceral reactions to a book in a long time. it kind of felt like coming back to life #like the way i used to read back in high school :')#anyway. how can i move on from this series!!! i feel like i need to let it sit with me for a while before starting anything else #if you have any suggestions please share !!

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loregoddess · 2 months ago

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Let’s go with Narve for the ask meme

How I feel about this character He's cool! I definitely didn't use him to his full potential in my runs, although I'd like to try and figure out how to use him in battle for whenever I replay TriStrat. But narratively I think Narve's arc offers an interesting insight into the worldbuilding, helping to show Hyzante's current culture and approach to information (both acquisition and suppression) long before the player even gets to say, the end of Roland's route where Exharme reveals that if Svarog had not burnt the Archives himself, then Exharme would have destroyed them on orders from Idore. Like, even before that, we know from the beginning of Narve's character story that suppressing information that doesn't help Hyzante/Idore maintain power is just a Thing that happens regularly.

But his character story also gives us insight into the counter of this as well, in that despite Idore's best attempts to expunge Grandante from history, the people who Grandante helped after being exiled still remember him, and in this way his legacy still lives on (and of course, Narve himself is carrying out this legacy, and sharing the story of his grandfather, and making it even harder for Hyzante to fully stamp out the memory of Grandante; not unlike how Frederica continues to fight against Hyzante in the epilogue of Roland's ending).

So like, while Narve isn't my top favorite or anything, I still think he plays a super interesting role in how the narrative fabric gets woven, since he embodies some of the fundamental themes of the overall narrative--that there are powers that would seek to suppress information if it benefited them, and that it's impossible, or at least very difficult, to truly erase information so long as there are people willing to remember and share it.

All the people I ship romantically with this character No one at the moment, although if pressed, I might try to make an argument for Narve x Jens since they seem to be close in age, and mage x craftsman is an underappreciate ship dynamic.

My non-romantic OTP for this character I do like Narve's friendship with Geela like, of all the permanent roster characters who can show up in other character stories, I wasn't expecting Geela per se (esp. since Anna's usually the one who gets to hang out with the younger kids), but it's nice to see how supportive Geela is of Narve's pursuits (although considering that she plans on opening her own school after the war, maybe her taking to Narve isn't so surprising, since one of his encampment dialogues suggest he's going to open up a magic school as well).

My unpopular opinion about this character Underrated character by everyone, including myself before I sat down to start drafting this ask. I have to say, he's a pretty interesting character in his own right.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. As usual, more character interactions. Would Narve and Corentin have become friends over their shared love of magic? Actually, it would have been interesting to see a conversation between Narve and Ezana over the similarities and differences between their approaches to magic too. Narve's character stories focus a lot on his healing magic, so it'd be interesting to see him discuss healing magic with Cordelia. It would have also been interesting to see Narve interact with characters outside of the field of magic too like, would Narve and Medina bond over frustrations with Hyzante? And of course, now I'm wondering how character interactions between Narve and Jens would work like, they both share of love of knowledge and desire to become the best in their field (to similar but different ends), and Jens is The Army Blacksmith, so he should at least have some interactions with every other playable character anyhow...

So many possibilities, at the rate I'm going I should just draw up a chart of all the support/rapport-style bond conversations I wish had existed in TriStrat as a dual game/narrative mechanic.

#''I haven't don't and won't really have a lot of ships for this character''#and ''I can absolutely BS a ship if I accidentally think about it for too many seconds too long''#are for better or worse aspects of my thought process that can and do coexist #like legit anon I Did Not Have A Ship For Narve #until I glanced through the character list checking how to spell a name and saw Jens and was like: ''Wait.''#anyhow the number of tabs I have open so I can read and reread script from the game to make sure I'm remembering things correctly #(and try to keep all the different name spellings straight)#is wild #like honestly I didn't remember too much about Narve bc I was too busy freaking out about the main narrative bc y'know *vaguely gestures*#so taking the time to reread his character stories and look over the encampment dialogue (which is such a delight to read in general)#was really fun bc it gave me time to really think about and appreciate the character writing for Narve #also I said it was surprising Geela was Narve's main character story support bc Anna is the designated babysitter #but Geela is also the main support character in Piccoletta's story too #so Anna is technically only the babysitter of the wayward kids and teens for everyone EXCEPT Narve and Piccoletta who fall to Geela #(and Jens if we go by the artbook saying he was supposed to be around 13ish #but I can't remember if that was for his prelim design notes or final design #but like anyhow he gets to hang out w/ Serenoa who is Also Beloved By Kids so like #army's being run by a bunch of Adults Good With Kids--but why are there so many kids in the army to start with)#ANYHOW #shady shades mysterious anon ask #ask game #I still don't have an ask tag

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cocklessboy · 1 year ago

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The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+#trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

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cj-the-random-artist · 1 month ago

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I have made. Another comic. I took a very, very long time, as usual lmao. I originally got inspired to make this after watching through Arcane cuz. Nicely done media makes me want to make things and all that. And, at that time, I'd sent Narinder out on a mission trip in my new save and he came home full of existential dread (I have terrible luck with Narinder on missions therefore so does QPR AU Lambert I guess lol), and it had occurred to me that that would make an interesting premise for a comic maybe?? Turns out it did.

I think I'm happy with this?? The perfectionist in me is not, and to be honest I think I could've drawn a lot of things better and also I think this would read better if it felt a little slower... but also it's 13 pages long so I can't fault myself all that much. I do wish I had spent more time on some of these interactions, particularly between Lambert and the Goat and also between Narinder and his siblings, I have a lot of thoughts about the Bishops post their joining the cult but I haven't had a ton of time to really like... flesh out those ideas as much as I would like to. Maybe someday?? Idk.

Semi-related, while this comic gave me a lot of thoughts about the Bishops it also gave me a lot of thoughts about like, the exact like, I guess boundaries and terms of Narinder and Lambert's QPR, and also about what exactly happened to Narinder while he was out, and he's not lying a lot did happen but that's a little too long to just throw in the description here so maybe future me will describe it somewhere or something. This comic also got me thinking about Webber a fair bit, and once day I will expand upon those thoughts but not today, I have outside activities today lol

Anyways. This comic, like all my art, is not perfect, but it was fun to make and I spent too long on it for nobody to see it, so... enjoy!!

#cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb fanart #cotl #cotl fanart #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl goat #cotl shamura #cotl kallamar #cotl webber #(not tagging heket or leshy cuz they're there but they don't really do anything in this one)#cotl narilamb #cotl au #the yet untitled qpr narilamb au #maybe that should be the official tag. but anyways. it's back #theres a lot of random silliness going in in the background of this one?? particularly during the meeting when everyone's bored #i almost forgot to tag webber. he's here he's having a great time. living his best spidery life #also i almost forgot about leshy sleeping through the meeting but every time i think about it it makes me laugh a little #anyways. tag rambles over. i hope yall like this comic

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mickyschumacher · 18 days ago

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[BREAKFAST IN BED!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the racing season is finally over and lando is more than excited to have you all to himself. or in which lando prefers his breakfast in bed with you as the main course.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay, grinding(?), teasing, oral sex/eating out/cunnilingus, fingering, pure moments of fluff because bf!lando is the sweetest, discussion of lando mentally struggling at the start

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: i promised a post before the end of the year and it happens to coincide with a holiday of giving ;) merry christmas and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it! and happy new year! // as usual poorly proof-read ♡︎ (sorry if it's shitty, i haven't written a full-piece in a while)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The season was over. Finally.

Not to be offensive or anything but you had been waiting for this moment for what, this year, felt like forever.

Yes, it was action packed–largely due to the fact that a certain RedBull wasn't winning every race. Yes, McLaren had whipped up the fastest car on the grid to shake things up. And yes, the same team had clinched their ninth World Constructor's Championship.

And while that made you absolutely over the moon, all you had wanted was for some peace and quiet on a random Wednesday morning so you could (maybe creepily) ogle your handsome boyfriend.

Was that too much to ask for?

It had been a tough season for Lando and naturally, as you promised from the very start of your friendship alone–that you would stick by his side no matter what–you had also been through the thick of it.

Convincing Lando to not look at the comments after every session or race had been difficult. You tried your best to remove any negativity that clouded his mind. Some days it worked and some days it didn't.

But that was life. And that was then.

Now you were wide awake at some odd time in the morning, laying comfortably on your stomach with your head turned towards Lando. There was about one degree of separation between the both of you, allowing you to carefully observe him.

Lando was never an early bird. If he was, it would be by some miracle or your upper arm strength pulling him from the sheets. A small smile crept onto your face. You had been friends for years now and together for even shorter. Yet you still couldn't believe that the sleepy bird next to you was yours entirely.

His dark tousled and recently cut curls, the stress lines on his forehead you were always aching to smooth out and comfort with the pad of your thumb, his "perfectly normal sized ears" that you definitely never made fun of, his lovely lashes you were jealous of, and the soft pink lips you couldn't decide whether to touch or kiss.... all yours.

Behind all the stupidity, humour, and claimed 'indifference' Lando sported on camera and with others, you always knew his heart. It was open for everyone and had more than enough love to go around. You were in love with the biggest sap you had ever known.

And on top of all of that, he made it out of that car to you... alive... every goddamn time.

You were luckier than you could ever imagine.

"How long are you going to stare at me, love?" Lando's voice queried, thick with the rasp of the morning and the events of last night.

You slightly widened your eyes, watching him open those beautiful baby blues and land on you. An flustered flush of heat wavered up your skin. You bit your lip before slipping beneath the covers, feeling the warmth envelope your skin entirely. You started with a muttered curse.

"How long have you even been awake, Lan? That's so embarrassing," you chided with a muffled tone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando couldn't help but grin at your sudden shy demeanour. It was hard for anyone to imagine you as shy but he had seen every side of you. How enjoyable it was that even after all these years, he could tease you and see how flustered you could get. If he had met you when you were kids, this is exactly how he imagined you'd be.

He stretched out his taut arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he pulled you over him. He moved your knees so you straddled him.

He pressed his lips to prevent a full blown smile at what he was seeing.

Your hair was fully covering your face, head down and hands hovering over to hide the tinges of pink and red on your skin.

"Baby... come on, love. Show me your face," Lando encouraged, nudging your hair lightly with the side of his finger. "Come on, baby."

You groaned, lifting your head, feeling all your tresses go back. You blankly stared at your boyfriend with burning cheeks. "I hate you," you mumbled, giving him a small glare.

Lando snorted, putting his hands firmly on your waist. His fingers edged up behind the hem of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your bare skin. "You love me. Someone who hates me wouldn't stare at me so lovingly."

"I–" You tried to open your mouth to retaliate but to no avail as you quickly came to the realisation that he was indeed correct. As Lando usually was with these things.

"Fine. You got me," you sighed admittedly, "I just missed waking up next to you in the morning. Is that such a horrible crime?" You dramatically asked, tease heavy in your voice.

In any other situation, Lando would've narrowed his eyes at your teasing but all he could do was gaze softly at you. You weren't able to travel with him all the time and he wasn't able to spend every day with you. You both knew that. And while it sucked, you had both gotten used to it, cherishing when you were together.

But this year... Lando had spent every living second wishing you were next to him. He wanted you to tell him your god awful jokes. To look at him from across the room and take his entire breath, mind, whatever, away. To drop the fake smiles and rest in your arms with all the time in the world.

"No," Lando whispered, warm eyes travelling over your face, trying to find anything new to memorise. Anything he had missed since seeing you. "That isn't a crime. If it was, I'd be guilty as charged."

Your breath hitched while a small shiver trickled down your body as Lando pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. You chewed down on your lip before breaking into a smile gently. "I love you, Lando Norris. Forever," you murmured, placing a brief kiss onto his lips.

Lando stared at you hard, far more awake than he had ever been. He lifted his head slowly, holding you close to him. And without a second thought, he brought his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that different but the need, the love, the softness and the brutal passion was poured into every fibre of your being

Your hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter while your nose glided against his as Lando only just begun ravaging your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans passing your lips.

His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your heated back exactly where the dark freckles he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Lando's ears as he curled his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled path of possessive kisses down base of your skin. He could feel your pulse against his skin and God, he wanted to burn it into his brain and save it.

"Lando," you gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your pillowy bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Lando's bulge.

"Ah, fuck," Lando cursed, feeling his cock throb in his underwear. His eyes fluttered shut, hands immediately returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

You were driving him crazy.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Lando's clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Lando," you moaned his name in his ear, fingers curling into his skin.

Lando opened his eyes, drawing back to capture your face. Your dazed eyes, glowing skin, panting lips, the way your hips bowed towards him... he had missed you. So. Fucking. Much.

"I want breakfast," Lando blurted with a slight gasp as the pleasure rocked through his body.

You stopped moving your hips, body shuddering from the halt. You raised a brow at the sudden desire but shrugged it off considering you were way past breakfast hours and you were only human. "Okay," you responded, about to move off of Lando to head to the kitchen.

Lando reached over, hand pulling your body back towards him, rolling your body so he hovered over you between your legs. "Where are you going?" he tutted, "Breakfast is right here."

You seemed to lose the ability to speak with Lando's hand kneading the flesh of your thighs, implying exactly what he wanted. You breathlessly watched his head move over your body. His tongue lapped at your skin, travelling to any bare patch he could find as though he wanted to feast on you. His warmth made your core tingle as you arched into his touch.

You were positively going to lose your mind.

His hands slid under your shirt, burning your skin until he could fill his palms with your breasts. "Oh baby," Lando moaned, fingers teasing your soft mounds. "I love your tits so fucking much."

A choked cry broke through your lips upon hearing his confession, fingers brushing against your hardened nipple almost painfully slowly. No matter how many times he said it, it set you alight.

"Lando," you moaned loudly, hoping he could read and hear the sound that beckoned him towards your aching core.

He paused, allowing you to take in the heavenly sight of Lando's bare chest, decorated only by the necklace you had gotten him on his birthday last year. In turn, his gaze was only focused on your core.

You tested your lung capacity, taking in a sharp inhale as he pressed his knuckles against your panties, purposely pushing harder against on the ball of your clit. You faltered at the smile sprawling on his face, your hips jolting forward and mouth unable to contain a desperate yelp.

Lando was every inch as desperate as you were, taking no time to waste. His fingers hooked onto your panties and removed them in one swift motion, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Lando nestling his head into your inner thigh, his once light blue eyes now dark and heavy with desire as he inhaled the scent of you. The moan escaping his lips made you shiver.

You were sure you were dripping. You could feel the slick trail down your pussy, glistening in a patient wait to be touched just like you were.

Your eyes fell back to Lando who groaned your name. "I promise to God, I'm going to make you cum so hard that breakfast in bed will be the only option you have," he stated so surely against your skin as his fingers slid from the seam of your entrance to your clit, bundling all your wetness onto his hand.

Oh god.

"Lando, please," you begged shamelessly, legs aching to clench together to relieve the pain of being untouched.

Your legs trembled around Lando's head, his hot breath nearing your pussy while his mouth drew closer. You watched him take you in for the last time before his lips firmly sealed over your aching clit.

The burst of pleasure cut through your body so sharply. Your cry of joy echoed in the late morning, hips bucking against his mouth.

Lando's hands travelled to the outside of your thighs, grasp tightening to keep them spread open on his shoulders. "Keep them open, baby," he ground out.

It took everything in your power to keep your legs from collapsing, particularly as he made his point with another hard to suck to your clit, but you body seemed to follow his command. His mouth returned your wet folds, tongue swirling around every crevice before coming back to the most sensitive part of you, turning you into absolute mush.

Your hands had found their way to those mop of curls you cherished so much, legs trying to conform around Lando's shoulder to welcome any better angle of pleasure.

Your gasp at the sudden dismissal of his mouth was short lived, any chance to complain gone as his fingers pushed into your slick folds, stretching your clenching muscles out.

"Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," Lando encouraged breathlessly as something feral inside of him emerged.

His fingers stroked your swollen walls from the inside, ensuring you felt every inch of them along the sensitive front wall of your pussy while his tongue glazed over every puffy slick fold like you were golden honey.

Lando watched in torture as he pushed his fingers in and out of your walls, your body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you.

"Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, a gleam of your wetness coating his lips. Moving his free hand down your thigh, he gathered your flesh in his fingers before reaching the small bundle of nerves, thumb going in small firm circles.

You were beginning to feel numb. A cold yet hot tightness coiling within your core, waiting to be unleashed. "Lando," you gasped, struggling to keep your head up, "fuck, I–I think I'm going to cum."

"Yes, baby," Lando coaxed, fingers speeding up with every action they had entailed, "Cum for me, please. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love."

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyes to travel to those familiar baby blues. All the trillion nerves in your body felt like entangled knots tied by Lando's tongue while his fingers found the sweetest spot of your pussy and held to you that pinnacle.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip while Lando held your gaze, tongue sliding, curving up, and pushing in and out of every crevice. Your pussy finally succumbed to the hard pressure, clenching muscles squeezing hard at the sharp pinch of pain.

The pain was explosive, searing, and all-consuming.

You cried.

You cried so loudly you were sure your neighbours would be complaining any minute now.

It didn't matter. Not when the pleasure shooting through you was disproportionately and literally blowing you out of this world as though it had been seated and waiting to be released since the dawn of time itself. Your hips bucked and stuttered while you squirmed and writhed against the bed, the fabric of your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin.

Lando's mouth had never left you through your orgasm, tongue still deep in your folds, savouring all the convulses, shudders, and clenches of your body.

Even better yet, he had watched every second of you falling apart.

And it absolutely drove him crazy.

Lando's hand rushed to catch your falling body, holding you up as a small wave of exhaustion crashed into you. You stared at Lando shiftless, still seeing the faint image of floating stars across his face.

Oh my god.

Lando had broken you with his tongue.

You watched Lando lick his fingers clean as you slowly removed your legs from his shoulders. You lifted your head, pressing a long kiss onto his lips.

Lando grinned, cradling his arms around your body as he pushed you both into the bed yet again. He pushed back your slightly greased hair, caressing your cheek gently. "You okay?"

His query made you feel soft all over. You smiled into his hands and nodded. "Perfect," you chirped, hands hanging over his neck.

"So... breakfast in bed?" Lando offered knowingly as he massaged your thighs gently. You were not walking to that kitchen.

You furrowed your brows. "What about my breakfast?"

Lando wanted to question you but as his eyes followed your gaze, the answer became as clear as the aching bulge underneath his boxers.

"Oh."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris #f1 smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris oneshot #lando x reader

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