#and it's so simple and easy to sing along to and so POWERFUL???

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Bring Light To The Darkness

《for @magpie-trove. I don't know if fanfics are allowed as part of the @inklings-challenge, but if they are, this can probably count for my Christmas challenge offering.》

“In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light. The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.

John 1:4‭-‬9 (ESV)

The first time she walked in the creaky, rusted door of Opened Door ministries, with their name printed on a colorful, vinyl-laminated sign on the window of the storefront they were in, she was seven years old. She'd just asked her mom to cut her hair and her mom had said no, that she needs it long for the winter to keep her warm, because they don't have the money for new scarves. Walking around the corner from their apartment, which at least still has heat even if the oven is broken, makes Stephanie think that maybe her mom was right.

Mom is on the phone with the landlord. Christmas is tomorrow and they had gotten a big turkey, but now, they can't cook it. Steph, who reads all the signs on the street as the schoolbus takes her past, had slipped into her big thrift-store boots and purple coat that was a birthday present this past year and snuck out the door while Mom argued with their landlord.

"Free Christmas meal," the sign offered, in large red text. There's smaller lettering underneath it that Steph hadn't been able to make out through the frosty windows of the bus, but the boy seated next to her who she thinks is a couple grades above her and always has his nose stuck in a book had reading glasses on and told her it said "all you can eat, noon to 6pm Christmas Eve and Christmas Day". Steph sits next to that boy because he's always warm, like as in friendly but also body heat. The bus doesn't have heat. At least Steph and her mom's apartment still has that, though, and so does the building that the Christmas dinner place is in.

Steph steps, or kind of shuffles because of all her winter clothes, into the storefront (which isn't a store) at 5:58pm on Christmas Eve. There's a lot of people starting to clean up, but she got in two minutes before the doors would have been locked, so she's lucky or blessed or something. A lady takes one look at the purple and blonde poof that is Stephanie Brown and grins, a really warm kind of grin, and asks her what they can do for her.

"My mom got a turkey for Christmas," Stephanie explains, because she doesn't want these people pitying her and thinking they can't afford their own food, "But our oven broke and they can't fix it yet. So I wanted to get us a Christmas dinner and I saw your sign from the schoolbus. So. Um." She shrugs, a swishy sound because her coat rustles against itself. The lady nods understandingly.

"Does your mom know you're here, though?" Asks a younger woman from over by a table that Steph stares at for a minute, eyes wide, because it's covered in sweets.

"I left a note."

There's a murmur, maybe a bit of a laugh. "Okay then," says the first lady, the one with the warm smile. "Let's get you and your mom some Christmas dinner."

And she's led over into the room with all the food, tables piled high with turkey (light meat for Steph, dark for Mom, and lots of gravy) and potatoes (Steph likes the cheesy ones best) and vegetables (that she accepts without complaint even though she doesn't like green beans). The lady helps her fill two big grocery bags with take-boxes of food and then lets her pick out whatever desserts she wants from the table she'd seen before. Steph leaves the store that isn't a store with enough food for a week and a chorus of "God bless you, Merry Christmas" that she echoes back even though she doesn't really know what the "God bless you" part means, because she didn't sneeze or anything.

The teenager who had been there had put a little piece of paper in the bag that Steph reads once she's home and in bed, happily drowsy from turkey and a huge piece of chocolate cake.

"Opened Door chapel services:," it reads. "Saturday, 6:30pm; Sunday, 11am. Youth service Wednesday nights, 6pm. Opened Door after school program daily 3pm-5pm."

Stephanie isn't totally sure what any of that means. She's never been to church before (She's at least mostly sure that "chapel" means "church," pretty much). She doesn't think about the little church that set up in a storefront for another few years, until she's nearly eleven and her dad is out on bail (which means that the apartment's heat hasn't been paid for because her mom decided to pay to get Dad back. Even at ten and a half, Steph doesn't understand that very well) and she's sick of hearing them argue.

She climbs down the fire escape and walks around the block to where she remembers getting Christmas dinner and a smile three years ago. It's Wednesday night and she doesn't know if she's old enough to be part of the youth stuff; youth usually means kids older than her, like Jason from the bus who she hasn't seen in school for the better part of a year. She doesn't just walk in like before, she knocks, since she isn't sure she's allowed at this stuff.

"Hi," she says, when someone comes to the door. It isn't anyone she recognizes. "You have... youth stuff tonight, right?" She shoves her hands in her hoodie pockets and decides she's not going home if she's turned away here.

But the kid who opened the door (hah!) just smiles and invites her inside. "What grade are you in?" He asks. "We have different small groups for different grades."

"Sixth," she lies, because 6th grade means middle school and none of the kids in the room look younger than that.

The guy nods. "Cool," he says. "You'll be with Lynn's group, then."

Lynn is, apparently, the younger lady who'd helped Steph on Christmas Eve nearly three years ago, and she recognizes the combination of long blonde hair and purple clothes immediately. Steph sits in the circle of kids just a bit older than her and smiles as they go around the circle and introduce themselves. This is, she decides, way better than staying at home in her room while her dad tries to convince Mom that he's helping them when he really isn't. At least these people actually do help other people. At least they invited her in.

They play a game a little bit like charades, but not quite, and then Lynn hands out soft-paged Bibles with plasticky feeling blue covers and the words Holy Bible, English Standard Version printed on the front. Lynn says a lot of words that Steph doesn't understand and several kids start flipping through the thin pages. Steph tries to read over the shoulder of the person next to her, who notices and stops what she's doing. Steph pulls back, hesitating.

"Hang on, Miss Lynn," the girl says in a lightly accented voice. "I think Stephanie needs help finding the right page."

Steph wills herself not to flush or curl into herself and hide, just lets the girl — Nadia — show her how the books and chapters and verse numbers work (she doesn't understand it still, but it will start to make sense in a couple weeks). When Nadia stops thumbing through the book, it says John 1 at the top of the page in bold letters. Everything else is in tiny print that Steph has to hold close to her face to read.

"The light," Lynn says in a slightly different voice than her usual one, "Shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

Steph likes the sound of that. She stares at the words on the page in a way that only someone still young and curious and new to all this can. When the conversation, drawn out by Lynn's leading questions, draws to a close and people start to funnel out of the store (which is definitely not a store, even if Steph got food there once), she holds the floppy, thick book with the bold word Holy and wonders if anyone would notice if she took it.

She isn't like her father, though. She isn't a criminal even if she did lie about being in middle school, and stealing doesn't sit right with her. So she walks over to Lynn, in a corner talking to one of the older kids, and waits for a break in the conversation so she can butt in.

"Uh," she says eloquently, "Can I... take this home?" She waves the Bible in question.

Lynn smiles at her, a little naturally lopsided. "Oh yeah, that's what they're here for!" she says. "You can totally take one home! I hope we'll see you here next week...?" She offers, and Steph nods. Even without the offer of free food, she thinks she likes it here.

She goes to that youth group every week from then on. It isn't like, a huge revelation, but it's fun and it gets her out of the house and they always say "come on in!" all bright and happy when she walks up, like somehow the leaders and other kids all know that Steph needs an invitation (like some kind of purple-clad vampire, or just a girl who isn't used to being welcomed). Nadia helps her find Bible verses sometimes but mostly she does it herself, but she likes sitting by a girl whose name means hope.

She learns that, about Nadia's name, a few weeks before Christmas when she's fourteen and everyone thinks she's in tenth grade instead of ninth and she still hasn't corrected them on that, even though she feels crappy for lying. "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing," reads the feather-light page that Steph maybe will always be afraid of tearing. Nadia lights up even more than she's normally bright and warm, and she tells the group of a Russian family name passed down, almost like the handing of hope from generation to generation. Steph thinks the name fits her.

The light shines in the darkness, reads the verse they'd talked about the first time Steph went to the youth meeting. That's what she wants Spoiler to be; that's what she tries to make herself. She knows the Bible verse is about the Iight of God, but she can apply it here, too, can't she? She's all eggplant-purple and golden hair and her dad is full of darkness, Batman is full of darkness, too, even though she thinks he honestly tries not to be. And if God's light can't be overcome or understood by the darkness, then it makes sense that Stephanie — Spoiler — can't be, either. She won't be.

Saturday night in late autumn, and she's sixteen and not out as Spoiler because for once, her dad is at home. Of course it's the one time the power is out, too, and Steph runs smack into her father on her way to the bathroom in the dark. He grumbles at her, something low and frustrated about how she's always in the way and she was an accident, anyway, and Steph ignores it and leans back against the closed bathroom door and tries not to cry. Mom is asleep or high, she isn't sure which, and she's too old to run to her mommy like a baby because her feelings got hurt; but she suddenly feels unwelcome even in her own house, her own life.

Her father never wanted her, her mom barely does, and Batman sure doesn't want Spoiler around. She has a wristwatch with numbers that glow in the dark and when she checks it, it's 6:30, already dark outside as it is inside and as is creeping into her heart, and. And, and, and. She's never gone to an actual chapel service at Opened Door. At least she's pretty sure she's welcome there.

She shrugs a cardigan over her plain T-shirt and leggings, feeling strangely like she needs to make herself presentable, check that her face isn't blotchy from holding back emotions. She would put on makeup, if she had enough light to do it by. Instead, she pads quietly down the hall in a worn pair of hightops and steps in exactly the right places on all the building's stairs so that they don't creak. Batman may not want her, but she hasn't learned nothing from him.

There's music coming from inside the storefront when Steph opens the door of Opened Doors, slipping inside to warm yellow light and friendly smiles of greeting even though she's ten minutes late and has been lying about her age since before she was eleven. She's heard a little of this kind of music, sometime playing in the background on a radio when she first arrives at youth group. But this is different, with a guy playing guitar on a small stage set up in the main room and a woman next to him singing and swaying. Steph stands in the doorway, transfixed.

When the song ends, another man steps onto the stage with a cordless microphone, says something about offerings, but Steph has nothing to offer. She slips into a seat in the back row and scans the room for anyone she knows, but when the people onstage start playing another song, she watches them. This is different than anything she's used to from Wednesday nights, but it's just as warm. You give life, the woman starts to sing, You are love, and Steph pays attention because talking about God is different when it's singing instead of talking. You bring light to the darkness. You give hope, restore every heart that is broken.

For the second time tonight, but for a totally different reason, Steph blinks back tears.

By Christmas, she's Robin. Basically the epitome of a light shining in darkness, in her opinion. B is definitely dark enough, and so is the Batcave. Steph, then, blonde hair and colors that are definitely not hers and maybe shouldn't be, is the counterpoint to all that. She's not here because B wanted her. She's here because she wanted to be here. Wants to. And if B's approval lights her up a little bit, then that has nothing to do with anything.

Alfred has strung some lights in a corner of the Cave. Robin colors, Steph thinks. She kind of wants to ask if there's any extras she could borrow, just for the season, since the lights on her and Mom's old plastic tree stopped working a couple years ago. Steph stares at the lights and shifts her weight from foot to foot on the training mats.

"Christmas Eve and Day are high crime days," B is saying, focused on the Batcomputer instead of her. "Police often take leave for the holiday and most people are at home; there are a lot of break-ins and robberies." He glances over his shoulder at her. "We'll need to redouble our efforts on patrol this weekend."

Steph sniffs awkwardly, gaze firmly fixed on Alfred's Christmas lights. "Actually, uh..." she squirms a little bit. "I can't patrol on Christmas Eve. I... have stuff I need to do. Commitments, ya know?" She flashes what she hopes is a bright grin to counter Batman's sudden glower.

"Family?" He asks carefully, watching her for some reaction she doesn't give. As if she wants to spend the holiday with her arch-criminal father and a drug addicted mom. As if she wants to face that.

She shakes her head. "It's a volunteering thing. Like, community service? It goes on my high school transcript. I promised I'd be there Christmas Eve, so..." she shrugs. "If that's, like... okay."

Batman stares at her a few moments longer. "I not your parent, Stephanie," he says, softer than she expected. Somehow, the words sting even though they're probably meant to be reassuring, or at least just a reminder. It isn't a rejection. "Where are you volunteering?"

Steph shrugs again. "Just a place near where I grew up. They do a Christmas dinner thing every year." She leaves out the fact that she's gone to it, and not to volunteer. B is stupid rich, she doesn't need the reminder.

He nods. "Christmas night, then?" And she nods. Light in the darkness, invitation as a counterpoint to rejection.

This year, Steph is the one doing the inviting. She grins widely at everyone who walks over Opened Doors' threshold, refills trays of food donated by church members and volunteers. It's strange, being on the other side of all this, but she's been attending Saturday night services as well as youth group every week, and they'd asked for helping hands, so. That's what she is. Seeing the light from their front window shining out into the dark of a street with broken streetlamps almost feels like coming full circle.

Steph doesn't know that in a few months she won't be Robin anymore; in a few months she'll be dead and then alive and still feeling like she's dead. Like the light in her heart has flickered out. All she knows is that it's Christmas, and she's standing in the church's kitchen (which is really just a camp stove someone brought in and a microwave they keep in the back room for popcorn at youth events; all the turkeys were cooked at people's homes and brought in this afternoon) with Lynn, who has a gold ring on the hand she keeps resting on her heavily pregnant belly, and Steph thinks things are starting over new.

"I was scared for you, at first, you know," Lynn says conversationally, nibbling at a leftover cookie. Steph is unscrewing the propane tank from the camp stove so its owner can take it home, and pauses to look over her shoulder.

"Huh?"

Lynn chuffs a soft laugh, hem of her maternity dress bouncing. "You came in here all alone that first Christmas, no parents or siblings, and I was worried for you. And then you came to youth group and I thought, she's only here because it's warm. Maybe I thought you were homeless, or didn't have good heating, since you showed up when it was cold out."

Steph checks the outlet on the propane tank, then turns around and sits cross-legged with her back to it on the kitchen floor. "I mean, you're kind of right," she admits. "I did come for the warm. But not because of why you thought. I just... I mean, you know my home life isn't the best. You guys gave me a place to come, you know?" She looks at the floor, like she'd looked at Christmas lights in a cave a couple days ago.

Lynn hums. "I never thought you'd become such a staple, though. Never thought we'd end up here." She smiles, that same smile she'd given Steph the first time they met on a Christmas Eve like this one, when Steph was tiny and Lynn had been a high schooler. "I'm glad," she adds.

Steph grins, then, too, thinking of handing lonely people a bit of warmth and welcome. "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it," she recites, because it feels fitting. "I don't think I ever stopped thinking about that after the first time. You guys are a light in the darkness." She turns back to the stove, carefully folding it up and leaning it against the wall.

Lynn hums again, then the pitch of her voice changes in a way that activates every single one of Steph's Spoiler-and-Robin instincts. The sound of hope becomes the sound of pain, and Steph swirls into action because she's wearing red and green and even though this time it means Christmas and not necessarily Robin, B's training is admittedly really good and she's grateful for it. Please, please, please, she prays in her head, absolutely incoherent because she's never delivered a baby before, and she still hasn't by the end of the night because two other women who had been volunteering usher her out of the way (she wasn't in the way) as the sound of pain becomes the sound of hope again. Joy and peace, too.

In spring, Steph dies. She isn't really Robin even though she's wearing those colors, and she spends the whole time her life is being taken from her praying, please, God, please, just as incoherent as ever. She's never been good at the praying part, always leaves the end-of-group prayers to Nadia or whoever else wants to say it. She wonders if Nadia will miss her. If Lynn will. She doesn't think B will, even though she misses him somehow even though he's with her at the end. Please, her mind screams, because it feels like the darkness is overcoming the light even though she knows in the end of all things that can't happen.

And then she's not dead again and she doesn't know what to feel. Grateful? Yeah, she is. But she doesn't feel like the hands and feet of light in the darkness anymore. She feels a little bit like a part of the darkness, and she spends a lot of time beating it back.

The floppy, blue-covered Bible she hadn't stolen still says Holy on the front even though it's beaten up and worn and she has, in fact, accidentally torn some of the delicate pages. The slip of paper listing the service times at Opened Doors is still in it as a bookmark, the words behind it highlighted in magenta Crayola marker, the closest color to purple she could find at the time. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. But the preceding verse stands out to Stephanie now, "In Him was life, and the life was the light of men." She stares at that for a long time and can't figure out how she feels about it.

Life and light, shared from Someone other than herself. That's where the light, the one that shines in the darkness and can't be overcome, the one that she's built her entire existence up around, comes from. She can't embody it by herself; Steph knows that now. Maybe she needs to be done trying.

The first time she walks in the creaky, rusted door of Opened Door ministries after she dies and is allowed to keep living (just like Jason Todd, the Red Hood, who she knows know is the same Jason she used to sit next to on the schoolbus in winter because he was warm and didn't mind her being there. She wonders if he's still warm like that.), she's seventeen years old and still hasn't cut her hair, because now that she's older she likes it long. She's still got a big purple coat (eggplant). It's Saturday night, her father is in prison and Mom is in rehab, and she hasn't been here since spring. The light still shines out the window of the storefront and the streetlight is still broken.

"It's Your breath in our lungs," sings the lady onstage when Steph walks into the sanctuary, a few minutes late as usual, and slips into the back row like she always does. "So we pour out our praise." Steph knows this song. It means more to her now, though. "Our hearts will cry, these bones will sing," says the bridge, and maybe that's why it's okay that Steph doesn't have the words to pray. "Great are You, Lord."

She goes to Opened Doors on Wednesday night that week, knocks on the doorframe. Someone opens it and tells her it isn't locked, and she says, "I know," and smiles. Lynn walks into the room with her baby on her hip and stops short when she sees Steph, bright golden hair and purple hoodie against the world, hands in her sweatshirt pocket almost sheepish in a way she never let herself be before.

"Stephanie!" She exclaims, breaking into the light smile Steph has come to know over the course of a decade. "I thought- we haven't seen you in months!" Lynn offers a one-armed hug that Steph gladly steps into, almost trembling with the force of being welcomed back so powerfully.

"I know," she mumbles, "Some... stuff happened." Death and new life counts as stuff, she thinks. "But I'm back now, so." She shrugs, and then blurts before she can stop to think about it: "I lied."

Lynn looks her up and down and pulls her back into the room they use as a kitchen, the microwave room. "When?" She asks gently, not judging or scolding, just curious.

Steph takes a deep breath, sighs it out. "When I first came here," she replies. "I was only in fifth grade at the time, but I didn't want you guys to like, turn me away because I was too young, you know? I really wanted..." she trails off.

"Wanted what?"

"The... light, I guess. To be invited in." Steph is holding back tears, now, and she isn't totally sure why. "I didn't think you would." Nobody else did. "I'm sorry I never told the truth."

Lynn shakes her head. "It's alright, Stephie," she says gently, which makes Steph cry more because her mom usually calls her that and she hasn't heard from her mom since she started rehab. Mom and Lynn are the only two people who have ever really called her Stephie. She'd forgotten what that felt like. "Honestly, I'm glad you did." She holds out a hand, and hesitantly, Steph takes it. "Plus," Lynn adds, "That means you have another year before you age out of youth group."

Steph hadn't thought of that. She'd almost thought they wouldn't want her around when they found out she lied. "Oh."

Steph isn't Spoiler anymore. She isn't Robin, either. She's Batgirl, now, taking up another legacy of light in the darkness. At first, she doesn't think it suits her. She confesses as much to Alfred, or maybe she's more complaining than anything else, unsure about living up to what B and Babs need her to be. Thanksgiving has just passed, and Steph is helping with Christmas decorations. She never did ask about borrowing some before, but maybe since she has her own place now, she'll ask this year.

"If Master Bruce and Miss Barbara think you are not exactly what you need to be," Alfred says simply, "Then that is on them, not you. You, Miss Stephanie, have something that unfortunately, they often don't." He fixes her in a long look, and bends to plug in a string of Christmas lights. "Light."

That's the moment Steph knows that Batgirl is going to be begging off patrol again this year, that as important as what she does at night is, there are things more important, and one of them is the light in the darkness. Alfred gives her a box of twinkling lights and decorations and won't hear of it when she promises to bring them back, tells her that every young person making their way in the world, in life, needs a good set of decor, so she ducks her head and grins about it and sets the box by the door before she runs downstairs. Like, downstairs, downstairs.

Tim is seated at the computer with Bruce hovering over his shoulder, both of them casting occasional glances over at Jason, still half in his Red Hood gear but leaning casually against the wall as they discuss some case Steph isn't involved in. They've been keeping her out of gang cases, she thinks, and anything to do with Sionis. Part of her bristles at the protectiveness while the rest of her is touched by it. She nods a greeting to Jason and walks up behind B and starts poking him, which gets a smirk out of Tim and a sigh from the man himself that she knows, these days, isn't actually annoyed.

"Yes, Stephanie?" He asks, tilting his head to look down at her. To think, she'd once been intimidated by that, thought he was like, actually looking down on her (and maybe he had been back then, at first). Not anymore, though.

"I'm dipping for Christmas again this year. Volunteer stuff, all that. I was wondering," she says slyly and a little shyly, like a little girl asking if she's allowed to take home a book called Holy, "If any of you wanted to join me." They should see that light, too. She wants to show it to them.

Tim looks up from the computer. "I didn't know you do volunteer work," he says. "Where?"

"Once a year," Steph replies, then falters. "It's uh... like a community Christmas meal type thing. There's a ministry that runs it in my old neighborhood, ever since I was a kid." She leaves the rest of that unspoken, knows that they know what's implied in that and isn't actually ashamed of it anymore.

"Wait," Jason pipes up, "Opened Doors?" He's staring at her, almost squinting with thought, and Steph nods.

"The one and only." She grins.

"Huh." Jason blinks. "I didn't realize you actually went."

"I didn't realize you could grow out of needing reading glasses," Steph retorts, and he grumbles. "But yeah. I uh... never stopped going, after that. And they never stopped inviting me in, so." She shrugs. "I helped out last year, too, and it was really nice." She turns back to Tim and Bruce. "I figured I'd ask, at least."

Tim frowns. "Well, I think we're skimming over the fact that you and Jason knew each other as kids," he says slowly, looking mildly perplexed.

"Same schoolbus," they both reply in unison.

Bruce clears his throat, then, which is a very quick way to get the attention of all of his kids including Steph, who isn't exactly his but isn't not, either. "If you don't think my presence would cause too much commotion," he says, "I would love to join you."

Steph tries to pretend like she isn't dying (coming alive) inside from happiness and acceptance. "Everyone's pretty chill." She breaks into a grin. "They'll love you."

"Hn." Bruce looks like he's suppressing a smile, and looks over at Tim, who shrugs.

"I'm in," he answers.

"Am I invited, too?" Jason asks. "Or would a vigilante crime lord be too out of place in a church?" He says it sarcastically, shooting a halfhearted glare at Bruce as he does so. But Steph thinks maybe he's actually asking.

"You don't have to talk about it," Tim sighs, exasperated. "Why are you like this."

But Steph just smiles wider and thinks of warmth from a storefront window. "You're invited."

Dick tags along, too, when he gets in from Bludhaven on Christmas Eve. Steph doesn't ask who's handling patrol, because she doesn't want to ruin this by reminding anyone of their other responsibilities, and she just assumes that Bruce has that all figured out. She can trust that, now. She carries a box of Alfred's pastries over the threshold of Opened Doors, letting out warmth into the cold and light into the darkness (the nearest streetlamp is still broken. She doesn't think it's ever going to be fixed.) as the boys and Bruce trail after her.

She's still got a big purple coat, this one not from a thrift store (it was an early Christmas present from B) and her hair is frizzed out over the fur-lined hood and she's absolutely certain she still looks like a poof. She's golden and purple and she grins madly back at Lynn and Nadia, who greet her with warmth as soon as they see her.

"I brought helping hands!" she exclaims brightly, nodding over her shoulder at the family who isn't quite her family, but who keep welcoming her into theirs anyway.

She finally, finally gets how to be a light in the darkness. Because the light doesn't come from just her, or just the church lights or the brightness of a welcoming smile. It comes from Something more, Something bigger. She just has to accept the invitation to it. And then she can turn around and open the door for others, the way it was opened to her. And the darkness, whatever it may contain, can't overcome that light.

She's going to call her mom tonight, wish her a merry Christmas. Figure out what she wants to do about college. Write a Christmas card to her father, send it to the prison even though she doesn't really want to, would rather let him rot. But right now, she's offering light the way it was once and is still offered to her, and it's warming her inside and out. It's Christmas Eve, and there's life here.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Romans 15:13

In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:4-5

[yandere-daze]

I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3

gn reader

2.3k words

cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation

Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader

You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.

You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.

You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.

Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.

This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.

So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.

As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.

And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.

He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.

With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.

But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.

And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.

There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.

Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.

In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.

Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.

You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.

And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.

He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.

He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.

He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.

You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.

"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.

"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.

"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.

You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.

But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.

Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?

Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.

Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.

And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.

"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.

Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.

"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.

And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.

"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?

"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.

"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!

"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.

" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.

"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.

"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"

You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.

"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.

Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.

"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.

But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.

Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.

Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.

You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.

And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

[feyhunter78]

Hi 💕

If requests are still open can you do something Elrond x reader where reader watches him duelling for sword training (or something similar)?

Can be as sweet or spicy as you want❤️

I know you sent this in ages ago, I'm so sorry!!! Also, I'm so bad at describing fighting, please ignore that

Sparring Sessions

You sit with your friend Taethrien on one of the various stone benches that line the outer circle of the training yard. The open space of packed dirt and training dummies, the sounds of sparring and instruction mingling with grunts of exertion from the younger elves.

“Again.” Elrond calls, his voice sharp, like a whip, his face set in stone, as he jerks his head towards the fallen sword of his sparring partner.

The younger elf, Narion, you believe his name is, picks up his sword, and settles back into a sturdy fighting stance, sweat dripping from his brow.

You know you should intervene, insist that your husband take more care with the younger elves, but you find yourself unable to. Your eyes drawn to his form, the graceful but powerful movements, the controlled strength behind his swings and strikes.

“Elrond is quite intense this morn, is he not?” Taethrien says, watching the pair as they begin, Narion lunging first, seemingly not learning his lesson.

You hum in response, captivated by the easy way Elrond deflects the blow. He has not even broken a sweat, but his hair is disheveled from him raking his hand through it.

There is a smirk, almost cocky, on Elrond’s face as Narion growls and tries to fake right and catch Elrond off guard. He sees right through it, striking Narion’s exposed side.

“Oh, poor boy, he must cease leaving his left side so open.” She continues, frowning as the flat of Elrond’s blade taps against Narion’s ribs.

You hum again, feeling your stomach flip when Elrond spots you and sends you a quick smile, a simple uptick of his lips, but it is enough to make a sudden warmth flood your face.

“Y/N?” Taethrien asks, turning to face you, her brows furrowed. “Are you listening.”

“Yes, yes, I agree, left side, much too exposed.” You say far too quickly, remembering where you are and tearing your eyes from Elrond.

She tilts her head, a catlike smile on her lips, but says nothing of your reaction. “My husband should be along soon, perhaps he will present a finer challenge for Elrond than the young ones do.”

“I am sure it will be a worthy display of both their skills.” You smile, bumping your shoulder into hers. “And it will allow me to see this strength of his you are so very fond of.”

 “I told you of that in confidence.” She whispers, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” You reassure her, patting her hand.

A sudden shout draws your attention back to the ring, where Elrond has Narion at sword point, the young elf on his back in the dirt. You grip your skirts, a flash of heat surging through you as Elrond sheathes his sword with a one-handed, fluid motion, before pulling Narion up from the dirt.

“It seems we both may have something, not to be ashamed of.” Taethrien teases, making a show of pretending to try and unfurl your fingers.

You do not tease her in return when it is her husband against yours, they are newly married, still in a phase of infatuation, still discovering much about themselves and each other. Besides, you are far too focused on Elrond as he and Iandor spar, their swords singing, sparking through the air, throwing bits of sunlight as it glints off their blades.

“Do keep up Elrond, I know you have not tasted battle in ages, but surely you cannot be this out of practice.” Iandor taunts jovially, a bright smile on his face.

Elrond throws him a devastatingly charming smile in response, the gleam of a worthy challenge in his eyes. “No, my friend, I am simply allowing you the advantage, I would not wish to embarrass you in front of your new bride.”

They spar for what feels akin to eternity as well as mere moments until they call it a draw, both men breathing heavily, clapping each other on the shoulder as they return their weapons to the rack.

You meet Elrond halfway, and he wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling at you, his chest still rising and falling harshly. “My starlight, I can only hope we did not bore you.”

“I never tire of watching you train.” You tell him, dusting the dirt from his training leathers, attempting to banish the memory of your wedding night from your mind. The way he looked hovering above you, his curls wild, his pupils blown wide, his bare chest heaving, the sound of your name on his lips. “I always find such interest in seeing more of this side of you. I know my husband the poet, the herald, the romantic, but I see seldom see my husband the warrior.”

“Truly, I prefer the quill to the sword, but I cannot deny a good bout brings a certain sense of joy to me.” He says, as you both wave goodbye to Taethrien and Iandor.

“You fight well, as you always have.” You compliment, leaning your head against his arm as you walk back to your shared chambers. You must cease these thoughts, stifle the heat, lest you become a lecher for your own husband.

“I am better with a bow.” He deflects, ever so humble.

“You are skilled with both, though I would not say you are a better archer than swordsman.” You tease. “That title belongs to Galadriel.”

Though you say it, your mind’s eye still conjures an image. His deft hands wrapped around the bow, his broad shoulder spread, his spine straight, his arms taut as he pulls back the arrow. Heat rushes through you once more, and you bite the inside of your cheek to clear your mind.

“Yes, I know it is your preference, but it is not…” Elrond stretches his arms behind his head, a small groan slipping past his lips, and you all but trip over your own feet.

“It is not what?” He asks, his hands flying out to steady you. His touch is lightning, striking through you, setting fire to the desire that had been bubbling within you since his blade had met its first foe in the early hours of the morn.

“Stars, Elrond, simply—” You grab him by the collar of his leathers and yank him down, your lips melding with his, frantic and fevered.

He melts into your touch, lips parting as his grip tightens on you, dragging you closer.

You press yourself against him, walking him backwards until his back meets the wall, a surprised gasp escaping him.

“We are still along the path; anyone could come upon us.” He breathes, loathe to separate his lips from yours.

“We will hear them before they do.” You assure him, though you doubt your vigilance and his, when your lips leave his own, trailing across his chiseled jaw, up to his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

Elrond lets out a strangled moan, the sound shooting through you, warming you like Dwarven ale. “Fenedhis, y/n, please.”

You press a chaste kiss to the place beneath his ear, and return your lips to his jaw, your fingertips replacing your teeth, tracing the shell of his ear. “Of course, my love, anything you desire.”

He groans lowly, his fingers bunching in your skirts as he tries to calm himself. “My sweet starlight, do not torture me.”

You untangle one of his hands, and slide it beneath your skirts, a shiver running through you when he grips your thigh and drags you closer. “I would never. I want only to give you what you desire, remember?”

His chest brushes against yours with each breath, leather against silk, desire swirling between you, as he leans down to capture your lips, stopping a hairbreadth away. “Let us return to our chambers then, it seems you much to give me.”

TROP tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace, @emmyspov, @elrondswifey, @victoria-styles, @90angiex, @lucypaulette

[whoahoney]

Unbelievable

Eddie Munson x friend!Reader

Summary: reader has a crush on eddie and plans to confess her feelings at the bar, when she finds him sitting with a gorgeous girl, she doubts herself… what will she do?

Warnings: minors DNI, unwelcome advances, drinking, jealousy, anxiety, making out, allusions to smut

A/N: dedicated to the lovely @easy-peasy68 and this awesome request she sent in! I hope you love it, darling! 💖😌

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tonight was the night—you were certain.

Tonight you’d worn your best clothes and redone your makeup twice. You prepared to drink until you were drunk of sorrow or happiness, one of the two.

“You’re not allowed to say that.” Robin chided over the phone as you walked to the bar and roll your eyes, “Think positive! He’s your friend, if he doesn’t return your feelings, how mean could he be about it?”

“I know he won’t be mean, Rob, he’s perfect!” You whine. “If he’s gonna let me down I know he’d do it in the sweetest most earth shattering way.” You watched the sidewalk pass beneath your feet and tried not to imagine the look of disappointment on his face.

“I have it on good authority that people can still be friends even after one rejects the other! Just look at me and Steve. We’ve been sailing this platonic love boat for years now! His dorky love confession is just a blip in the past now—“

“Whoa, wait, my love confession was not dorky—“ You hear Steve in the background and roll your eyes as you come to a stop before the sticker covered door that you’d grown quite fond of, this being Eddie’s favorite spot.

“Alrighty, Rob. I’m here.” You mumble and lean against the building.

Robin gasps, “Okayloveyou, call me after please, byeeeeee!” She almost sings as you end the call.

You take a deep breath and pull the door open. You’re so distracted looking for Eddie that you nearly blow right by the bouncer, sat at his laptop watching Lord of the Rings as he checked IDs.

You roll your eyes as he shoots you a questioning look, comparing your birthdate to your face before handing it back to you. You mumble a thanks and let your eyes scan the seats along the bar, where Eddie always sat.

You wondered if you beat him here for once, if you could be the one with two drinks waiting in front of you to be shared when he sat down like he’d always had with you.

You wonder if he’ll compliment your outfit, if he’ll even notice it. He typically always had a little compliment at the ready for you, about your hair or perfume, simple words that made you wanna shudder and savor the feeling forever.

A group of people grabbing drinks from the bartender caught your attention. They laughed merrily with each other and grabbed two tall glasses each to take to their awaiting table of friends, but when they moved, they also revealed a scene you never wanted to see; Eddie sat at the bar, and a gorgeous girl in your spot next to him.

Your heart ached and sank in your body, the beating of it suddenly so powerful it thudded in your chest. You wanted to swallow the lump in your throat, but your mouth was so dry you couldn’t, it just added to the sandpaper feeling prickling all the way down.

You wanted to cry at the way Eddie’s shoulders shook with a chuckle, facing the wall of bottles while she faced him, leaning closer on her hand and letting her ample cleavage show. She wore a red dress, one you wouldn’t even dream of wearing. Her lips were painted the same color and her eyes were lined with black so thick it reminded you of the music videos that sometimes played at the music store Eddie worked at.

She was perfect. And you suddenly felt as if you were not.

You feel someone bump into your shoulder and realize you were standing in the middle of traffic, grabbing a place at the bar with shaking hands, on the other side of three large old men that frequented the bar too.

Your mind was reeling and spinning without any alcohol to fuel it, so you opted for a water to collect yourself. When the bartender sat the tall glass in front of you, you take three big gulps of it and then some deep breaths. “Just go on over there, honey.” A gruff voice said.

“Yeah, that’s your spot!” Another said.

You turn to the right to see the old men looking at you, their leather vests, fading tattoos, and bald heads usually intimidating you, but when you saw them now, looking at you, you only saw concern in their eyes. You shake your head, “I don’t know what you mean.”

The men chuckle kindly, “Sweetheart, we know that’s your boy over there. And that broad has been buggin him for the last ten minutes about buying her drinks.”

Your brows push together and you lean over to view the two down on the other side of the man that spoke to you. Eddie had a tense smile, one he used when he didn’t wanna be rude.

“He could be nervous. She’s awfully pretty,” You think.

Another one of the men notice the skeptical look on your face, “He’s here to see you, ain’t he?” He asks incredulously through his thick mustache.

You shrug and nod, “We come here every week. W-We’re just friends though, so I should leave him alone.”

The men chuckle again before the third one pipes up, “Uh-uh! We gotta pool goin on how long it’ll take you guys to kiss. Poor boy always looks like he’s gonna make a move and doesn’t.” He rolled his eyes and his friends agreed.

Your jaw dropped, amusement on your face, “He does not!” You quietly chide before sneaking another glance at Eddie’s almost cowering figure as he kept his body facing straight, barely turning his head to respond to the girl.

“Between you and me,” the man closest to her almost mumbled, “if y’all kiss after this week, I lose—so it’s now or never.” He tsked and took a swig of his bottled bud light. You blush crimson and close your eyes. “If you go over there and plant one on loverboy, I’ll give you $50.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

You try not to chuckle when you notice these old men have you almost convinced. You take a deep breath and shake his hand, “I have to right now?” You ask.

“You just have to go over there right now, okay? And if it don’t work out, you gotta seat right back over here.” He nodded and gave you a firm pat on the back that almost knocked you over as you picked up or water and climbed off the stool. As you pass by them, you hear their rumbling cheers while they no doubt watch you.

You keep stepping towards where Eddie and the girl sat, Eddie’s hair practically a curtain between himself and her.

“You’re just shy, aren’t you?” She purred when you got close enough. She reached out to stroke Eddie’s hand that rested on the counter only for him to drag it away into his pocket.

“Nah, no, I-I’m typically not.” He said with a dry chuckle.

The girl tsked and leaned forward as you stepped up right behind her, still undetected, “Aww, so you just act this way for little ole me? All cute and shy?” She flattered herself and giggled in a way that you figured was supposed to be alluring.

As Eddie turns his head to face her, you step over next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, “Actually I think you just make him uncomfortable.” You remark, as you look her over and school your face to look unimpressed with the girl before you, as if you hadn’t envied her at first sight.

You look at Eddie, who stared at you with brown eyes wide with awe. Your lips twitch when they attempt to smile at the two waiting glasses in front of him, sips yet to be taken. “Can I have my seat or do I need to sit in his lap for you to understand?” You look back at her coldly.

She scoffs and looks between you two as she stands with her purse and returns to her table of friends in the corner.

You exhale deeply and look over at your biker friends who had heard the whole exchange. They raised their newest glasses to you and drank with hearty laughter.

“Friends of yours?” He asks with a uneasy chuckle, checking out the old men skeptically before he spotted their patches and smiled.

You shrug, “New friends.”

He nodded. You lingered by Eddie, your hand still on his shoulder before you move to sit in your spot, “My lap, huh?” He chuckled, amused and impressed at your display of courage he’d never seen before.

You plop down, the seat pleasantly warm from the bitch that previously occupied it. “Yeah, sorry about that, you just seemed…” you shook your head as he nodded gently.

“Thank you.” He looked you over, his eyes growing large again when they paused at your chest. “You look… fantastic, wow.” He says with a dumbstruck smile as he took you in again.

You chuckle and shake your head, “Oh, this old thing. Just threw it on, y’know, but, uh, I’m-I’m glad you like it!” You smile at him, feeling the difference in the air between you tonight. It felt good. Full of possibility.

Eddie clears his throat and slides your drink over to you. “A toast— to my best friend;” he started as you lift your glass with a quirked brow, “The bravest, wittiest ….” He hesitated, peering into your eyes, “…prettiest girl I know.” He nodded as he finished.

“Here, here!” The familiar gruff voices echoed behind you in agreement, lifting their shots before throwing them back. You guys chuckle and sip your beers, your nose wrinkling at the first taste as you usually did.

Eddie chuckled at you as you set the glass down, foam on your upper lip. “What?”

“You got a little…” he pointed at your mouth, but didn’t give you a chance to clean it yourself, bringing his thumb up to wipe it off with one gentle swipe. “There… much better.” He said softly, his face inches from yours. His touch sending pins and needles where he touched. He’d never touched your face before—not to mention your lips.

You look down and blush, finding your knees between his and his body leaned close to yours. He looked so much more like himself now, that ornery glint in his eye, his boyish smile that always said ‘trouble’ when he flashed one your way.

You watch his ringed hand rest on your knee, stroking in loving circles before you look up at him, his gaze more serious, yet not stone. Something else was hidden in the look he gave you, something that felt familiar to you.

He whispers your name, “—Tell me something.”

You cock your head and give him a single nod, “What’s to tell?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes before taking a drink, “S’gonna be like that, huh?” He looks at you again, playful smile on display as he leans closer to you again.

“Like what?” You chuckle, enjoying this game. Eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and goes to turn back forward when you catch his knee, “No, no,” you pat him before turning him to you by the knee in your grip, Eddie’s gaze darkening as his eyes flicked back up to yours. “No need for that.”

You go to withdrawal your hand, but he catches it., “Were you jealous?” He asked, his hand stop yours.

You can’t help but balk, your mouth opening and eyes widening before you can pinch your brows together and shake your head, “N-No,” you find yourself in the lie, “I just—“ you shrug, finding his eyes on yours expectantly, obviously working hard to keep his mouth straight and resisting the smile that threatened to curl up at the corners.

“Just?” He prodded.

“Like—ugh, the way she was touching you. And looking at you—”

“And… that’s not jealous?” He broke a little, one side of his smile lifting as he bit the other cheek.

Your cheeks blossom into magenta, your avoidant smile rising up on your face as you grab your drink as a buffer, not daring to move your other hand from his grasp. Eddie watches you as you gulp the brew and set down the glass, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, maybe a little..” you shrug before looking up at him from under your lashes, your eyes darting back down when you saw his smirk.

Oh, great. It’s a joke to him.

“But if it was a guy, okay,” you start, “And if I was you, and I was looking the same way you did, you’d do the same thing, wouldn’t you?” You shrug in question. “You’d wanna protect me from an unwelcome conversation, right?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, absolutely.”

“See?” You go to move your hand from his, turning to face the bar when he catches you again.

“To protect you, yes.” He said, hidden urgency in his eyes as he squeezed your hand gently, “—But also because I’d be jealous.” He smiles at your hesitance to believe him as you gently shake your head in disbelief.

“So.. now would be a good time to tell you about my feelings?” You ask quietly.

“Feelings?” He asks in feigned incredulity. You fight the blooming smile as he teases you. “Feelings about what?” He mocks you at your own game.

You roll your eyes and push at his chest, smiling when he caught your wrist and released your other, turning his hand to face palm up, his fingers lingering on yours in the hope you’d wind your fingers through his.

And you do, just as he’s begun stroking his thumb over your hand, the one he caught on his heart.

“Tell me.” He says just above a whisper despite the chaotic barroom.

You nod, “I… I like you. A lot. An embarrassing amount, actually— since the day we met.” You stumble, looking down at the rings on his hands you’d never brought yourself to play with, though you thought about it a lot.

You’d never held hands like this before, always sure to stay in your own bubbles. But tonight, everything was different, and you both knew it wouldn’t ever be the same.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He said casually.

You look up at him in surprise, to find him leaning forward and releasing your hand to hold you steady as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your eyes melt closed and you kiss him back, not shying away from the urge to touch his face and neck.

You barely hear the cheers behind you until Eddie breaks the kiss to glance at your friends a few seats down the bar. You turn shyly to find them paying their tabs and handing cash to the man that convinced you to come over here in the first place.

He saunters over to you, cap on his head and a new dip in his mouth, the lump bulging beneath his bottom lip. “Here ya go, darlin, take your new boyfriend out on a date.” He dropped a fifty in front of you and shoved his winnings away in his pocket.

Your jaw drops and you go to hand it back to him, “Sir, I can’t take this—“

“The hell you can’t!” He said as his friends joined him, one of them taking his free hand. “I’m $200 richer because of you, let me share the wealth!”

“Gary, you leave them alone.” The man chided. “Congratulations, you two,” he said when he turned to you, “Seeing you guys here these last few months had us thinking about our old times—Gary and I have been coming here with our friends since ‘82.” He beamed at his partner and it was only then you noticed the pride flag patch, beneath the Satyrs Motorcycle Club emblem, along with a BACA patch to boot.

You smiled warmly as Eddie took your hand again and swiftly pocketed the $50 for you. “Well, we owe you fellas drinks the next time we meet!” Eddie said.

You smile at his heart and nod in agreement, “Thank you, so much.” You smile at Gary who nodded.

“We wish y’all the best—treat her right, pretty boy, she knows where to find me.” He pointed a thick callused finger in his direction with a teasing wink and a final pat on the back as they departed, hearing the unmistakeable revving of their friends preparing to leave.

Eddie looked back at you as you sighed, the tension from the last couple weeks finally falling away with each careful stroke of his thumb over your hand.

I could get used to this, you think.

“So…” Eddie said, in the way he always did when he had a new plan of action, “How about… we blow this popsicle stand, grab some food and then.. maybe spend the night at yours.” He said, looking down at your hands as he spoke, the way he did when he was shy.

You smile and think about the advantages you have now that your best friend might just be your boyfriend, how well you know each other already. How easy this felt since you said the words that felt like wire bristles coming out of your throat.

“Spend the night?” You ask with a hand pressed to your chest. Eddie blushes as he meets your eye, not bothering to clarify the sentiment of spending the evening at your place like you’d done plenty of times before.

But never spending the night.

You bit your lip before letting it slip out of your teeth, “You wanna?” You ask quietly.

His eyes shift again, that darkness taking over again as his mischief fell and lust took hold of him. He nodded.

“And before our first date!” You say in a theatrical gasp that had him giggling and shaking his head before taking a drink.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“Who said that?” You scoff, taking a sip of the water you brought over with you as Eddie chuckled into his now free hands, shaking his head and groaning, “you’re unbelievable.”

“I bet it won’t be the last time you say that tonight.” You say daringly.

Eddie’s mouth drops open before he lurches off his stool to pay your tabs. As he stands in line his gaze keeps drifting back to you, knowing you’re watching him with a coy smile he’d never gotten to see before now. He figures now you must’ve been too nervous and it makes him chuckle as he looks you over again.

You notice this and shoot him a look, narrowed eyes and a suspicious smirk, only able to guess what he’s thinking about you.

Your eyes shift behind him to find the girl from earlier still sitting in the corner, her eyes on you with curiosity. You wonder if she saw your kiss, or how Eddie held your hands. Before you can think too much about it, Eddie’s obstructing your view as he approaches and holds out his hand for you, something else he hadn’t done before.

You take it gratefully and smile as you fix your purse. You step forward and feel his hand at your lower back, almost bringing you to your knees at first. You gathered yourself quickly and smiled when you saw his hand shoot out from behind you to grab the door, ushering you through into the warm night air.

His hand slips into yours and he pulls you closer to him. His smile is set on you and he wraps his arms around you, staring at you for just a minute.

“Thanks for my drink.” You smile, finding a hand on his chest and the other stroking the column of his neck.

He chuckles, “Of course. More than happy to cover my girl’s drinks.”

“Ooh, your girl.” You sing teasingly.

You feel him stroking your back at the edge of your shirt where a sliver of skin was exposed. “Yeah. Unless your mind has changed about me in the last five minutes—“

You’re quick to cut him off with a shake of your head and a “Mm-mm, nope!” That sends him smiling wider as he pulls you over to his car.

“You didn’t drive, did you?” He asks as you approach the Kia. You shake your head again and catch his smirk.

“You dirty dog.” He tsks and puts his hand against the passenger door you leaned against.

“What??” You ask through a giggle.

“You came here with a plan didn’t you!” He leaned in close, til his nose brushed yours and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You thought he was going to kiss you before he pulled back and appraised you. “What—plan A I’m your ride, plan B, you Uber?” He asks.

You nod.

“I’d never let you get into an Uber.” He scoffs and opens the door for you, guiding your body around the door and into the car.

He watches you buckle up, and waits patiently til you look up at him in question, wondering if he asked something you didn’t hear.

“What?” You ask softly, trying not to melt at the way he looked at you.

He shakes his head gently, “Nothin,” he leans closer to you, “Just… glad I don’t have to pretend anymore. Feels nice.” He smiles again. You nod in agreement. “Plus I need a kiss from my girlfriend if she wants a ride home.” He pauses right in front of your lips waiting to you to close the rest of the distance.

“Is that how it’s gonna be, Munson?” You ask.

He nods, “Oh, yeah, I’m capitalizing on it. I’ll do anything for you if it means I get a kiss.” He looks down to your lips and back up again.

You smile and push your lips to his, with more fervor than you did in the bar, his lips warmer and wetter than before. Eddie practically drops to his knees to keep the kiss going, internally debating on climbing inside the car this way until—

“Excuse me? Excu—Excuse me!” A voice said from in front of the car. You’re the one to pull out of the kiss, Eddie following you before following your gaze and finding the girl from earlier, her friends behind her as she holds her keys in her hand, “Can I get into my car please?” She asks in uncomfortable calm.

Eddie stands up, “Oh, yeah, for sure!” He shuts your door and jogs around the front of the car without another look in her direction, scrambling inside the car and starting it just to turn to you and pull you in to continue your kiss.

You crack your eyes open to find the girl’s friends opening the back doors to her car and piling in, as she remained frozen to the spot, her mouth dropped as she watched how Eddie kissed you. You close your eyes and open your mouth just a bit more and feel Eddie’s tongue slide inside, and you hate that you hoped she saw it.

You moan into his mouth and let him explore before tangling your tongue with his. His taste was intoxicating, even after the beer. Kissing him in his car was a different feeling than kissing in the bar, this was more private—special even.

You’d spent a lot of time in the passenger seat of his car, smoking, telling secrets, singing together, crying after hard days, eating take out when neither of you feel like cooking, it was another one of the places that was special to you because it was somewhere you shared with Eddie. And now you got to share this in here too.

Eddie let out a savoring groan before parting his lips from yours. “Now that, was unbelievable.” You said as he smiled in the same goofy way he always did.

You giggle and look away as he turns up the music and put the car in reverse. “Bet it won’t be the last time you say that tonight.” He says before sticking his tongue out. You look over at him with a glimmer in your eye and a smirk that had him driving 15 over the speed limit and kissing your hand every few seconds, like he had waited for this just as long as you had.

And just in case you’re wondering—Eddie had you calling him unbelievable (and a few other things) by the end of the night.

-

-

[adolin]

I want to start running...any tips?

I WAS BORN TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Thank you so much for asking! Unfortunately, I am a nerd about my hobbies so this got quite long.

Keep it simple ✨

Running is easy to get into; our bodies are built for it. Don’t stress over technicalities and just do what feels natural to you. My local races are full of 70-something white-haired pensioners who are kicking ass at it. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is meant to feel like dying, that’ll harm your knees, or that you absolutely need to have that specific smartwatch model to get into it. All you need is a solid pair of shoes, everything else is optional.

Medium effort is the way to go

The ideal aerobic running pace is a speed at which you’re able to hold a conversation, even if a bit winded. NO faster. If you’re able to sing along to your playlist or chat with a friend, that’s your ideal running pace. If you’re gasping or wheezing, slow down! You’ll get a bit faster as your lung capacity gets better, but that shouldn’t be a priority unless you want to train for a race. You get most of the health benefits of running just by keeping up a steady, sustainable, conversational pace.

Walking breaks are fine, actually

That’s the reason why I don’t love C25K as a beginner program — the way it’s structured sort of implies that walking breaks are something you should grow out of to become a more experienced runner. If you need to walk for a bit, go ahead.

If possible, jogging is preferable, just because the mechanics of even a glacial-pace jog are more similar to running than those of a faster power walk, so you might try switching to a jog after a bit of a walking interval. But walking is not a failure; there are serious marathon training plans out there that use walk/run intervals as a viable strategy.

(Related: picking up speed helps you keep going! If you feel like you are completely drained, try speeding up for a very short interval, then slowing back down. It’ll often give you an energy boost to keep going)

Run for time, not distance ⌚

Especially for beginners, I find that getting fixated on numbers can be counter productive, and the most important thing is to listen to your body. If you’re aiming to hit a certain mileage, you might get the urge to speed up at the end to get done faster. Instead, set yourself time-based goals and end every run with a cool down jog or walk.

SHOES!! 👟

Good running shoes are essential, and pretty much the only fitness-related purchase on which I’ll always support dropping money. If you get to the point where you’re consistently running 10 km (6 miles) each week, you’ll want to go to a running store — the kind of place where you’ll get fitted, and they’ll have you try on models and jog on a treadmill to evaluate your gait and let you know which characteristics your ideal shoe needs. I can’t stress enough how useful running store staff can be. They’re all running club nerds who LOVE getting new people into running, and they really want to help you find your ideal fit. Also get good running socks while you’re at it.

Be prepared to drop at least 100€ (or equivalent currency) but they usually have a great return policy if the model isn’t a good fit for you. Take care of your running shoes — maintenance, wearing them only for running, gentle cleansing etc — and the cushioning will last for quite a while (600km / 370miles at least). If you decide that you hate running, they’re still great for walking around. Once you find your ideal shoe model, it gets a lot easier to shop for it during end-of-season sales, or looking for online bargains etc. I love stocking on end-of-series shoes and rotating them so they’ll last even longer, and I buy online quite often! Just make sure your FIRST pair is fitted, for ideal injury prevention and joint health.

Injury prevention 💪

I’d love to still be running 10k races when I’m 70, but it takes some care to get there. When you run, you’re slamming your body weight up and down with every stride, and that might be hard on your joints if you’re not used to it. If you’re completely new to running, cap your runs at 15/20 minutes every other day. Do that even if you feel like you could keep going! If you have a good aerobic base already, you need to give your joints time to catch up with you lung capacity, and give your body time to recover. Do bodyweight exercises like lunges and planks and glute bridges to strengthen your core, legs, and hips. Dynamic stretches are great for warmups, and static stretches are better for cooling down. If you have the option, running on softer surface like grass or dirt is better than asphalt, which is better than concrete and pavements.

(If nothing of what I’ve said here makes sense to you, shoot me another ask, or look at some of the resources I’ve linked down below!)

Don't get bored! 🎶

I love running in groups. Running clubs are great. You can learn so much in a hands-on way from seriously experienced people, you can chat about gossip over a running job, and you can make some interesting friends. If you don’t have access to a running community, then personally I love just chilling on a run by myself listening to an audiobook or podcast or exploring a certain area.

Running form❓

Don’t stress about it. Just go out and move your body. Attempting to modify your ‘running form’ too quickly can do more harm than good. There ARE a few things you could pay attention to — I recommend trying to focus on one of these at a time for a minute or so, and alternate between them. After a while, it’ll start to feel natural to keep track of all of them:

1. Don’t slouch! But a slight lean forward is great.

2. Keep your shoulders pulled down and your upper back tense.

3. Swinging your arms in a way that helps with your stride is good, but I shouldn’t feel forced.

4. Even breaths, inhaling through your mouth and expiring through your nose.

5. Take turns to check with every part of your body, and relax them in turn: are your jaw and neck too tense? Are your fists tight?

6. Don’t overstride! shorter strides with quicker leg turnover are better than huge strides that feel awkward to you.

7. Use your glutes to drive up the motion of your legs, not just your quads. This can take a while to get used to, but it’s a game-changer.

8. ENGAGE YOUR CORE. This is a great skill to develop whether you work out or are just existing in the world — basically, let your inner abdominal muscles help you carry your weight forward. This is VERY intuitive once you know how to do it, but it’s hard to get a grasp of it if you don’t know what it means, so here are some resources about it.

an extremely fucking comprehensive article that improved my life and eased my big-boobs back pain

similar content but in video form

a running-specific form video

Personally, learning to do this made me feel like I unlocked a superpower. Go forth and brace.

Accessories and tips ���

Like I said above, the only thing I really suggest spending money on for real is running shoes. Everything else is details! However, I’m nothing if not wordy I have Thoughts about those details, too.

Run tracking: I suggest downloading Runkeeper if you want to keep track of your runs — it’s free, intuitive, and solid! If you decide to get into wearables, a low-level Garmin >>>>> anything else.

Self-care: use sunscreen and/or thick face cream as needed. Stop to sip at a public fountain if needed. Get a small fanny pack to hold your phone, keys, or lip balm if needed. If chafing is an issue, anti-glide gel is relatively affordable.

Outfits etc: I get all my running gear and clothes from Decathlon — they are in most countries and ship worldwide. I especially love this thermal shirt for colder weather

Safety: if you’re running on the road, make sure to run in the opposite direction from traffic and to wear something bright. If you run with headphones near traffic, keep the volume down, or get over-the-ear conductor headsets. I love shokz, they're fantastic.

Post-run snack: eating something small and carb-heavy within 30 mins of a workout is great for kickstarting recovery. I love dried fruit personally.

Various resources 📝

Routine basics: check out the r/running order of operations, which is a great “how to” guide to building a basic running routine. I also recommend that subreddit's wiki! Running programming gets exponentially more involved the more advanced you get, etc — if you ever have any questions, hit me up!

Dynamic stretching warmup: a quick leg swing workout to get your legs ready to go. If you’re feeling overachieving, here’s a lunge warmup routine and a how-to bodyweight squat video.

Cooldown routine! Check out Strength and Mobility, a great post-run quick cooldown routine that includes some bodyweight exercises to strengthen your hips and core. Video included.

that's all, folks! 🏃‍♀️

Sorry I got carried away! I love running. I love getting people into running. My mental health, cardiovascular system and my popping quads also love running. But FYI, some people hate running and that's also fine! If you decide it’s not for you, find something you like more. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and a lot of guilt-tripping and body shame-y rhetoric around exercising, especially aimed at women, and I want to make clear it’s all bullshit. Just have fun <3

[cheshiresaf]

The sun's warmth

| A Leona oneshot of what I imagine might have happened in the sequence during his overblot. I wish we'd gotten more depth into it, especially since he's such a complex character.

! Semi-canon divergent!

_________________________

"From the moment I was born, Ive had to bear the weight of a burden unfit for a child so young."

The sun had shone valiantly the day the young prince had been brought into the world. But, the birds ceased their singing, and those dim rays of light quickly began to fade.

The plan had always been for there to be one heir. One child to carry on the noble Kingscholar lineage. The King and Queen had fulfilled that plan, and along had come Farena, the shining star in their lives.

But with it had come a price.

The Queen, Amirah, had never exactly been in the best of health. It had only deteriorated after she'd had her son. Thankfully, she made a quick recovery. But the doctors told her that it would be a great risk if she were to have any more.

And yet, there Leona was.

He'd never been planned. Not like his brother. It had been easy to tell, even for a kid who had been 5 years old.

They'd been born 10 years apart, and monarchies such as the one his family followed required the eldest child to be the heir to the throne. 

Besides, Farena had always been treated better than him.

The attendants had always dawned over him like hed been their own son, murmuring endless praises of how 'bright' and 'cheerful' he was. Whenever the Crown Prince had passed, they made sure to ask about his day, easily and willingly making conversation with him.

His father always put Farena above him, for he was always the priority. His brother could have gotten anything he wanted with so much as a simple ask. Leona had taken note of the conversations they used to have, both of formal and informal topics. Yet, there'd always been that underlying hint of love sprinkled in. Whenever his brother smiled, the affection had been crystal clear on his father's face.

It was never like that with him.

The same attendants who adored his brother to no end always chided him. He was moody, closed off, selfish, rude. He truly wondered why, he'd sarcastically snarked to himself. They cowered from him, eyes alight with fear and worry for their well being. All because of his magic.

He'd never asked to be given the power to cause such destruction. He'd been just 5 years old when he had discovered it. By marring the face of his very own personal attendant, in what he'd thought had been a normal childish meltdown. Did they think he'd meant to do it? That he was some sort of monster, a calamity that had befallen the royal family's ranks?

His father didn't care to so much as spare him a glance. What was he meant to do with his second son, the spare? Conversations were non-existent, short exchanged words slowly dying down over the years with change. As he'd grown older, Leona had begun tirelessly studying in the royal library, cooping himself up to one of the desks for hours, perched walls of books shielding his view of the outside world. Once he'd reached his teenage years, exhaustion and realisation had hit him like a truck, and he began shielding himself from view once more. Only this time, he'd stayed in the comfort of his room for extended and unhealthy periods of time.

There was a reason why he didn't remember much from the years after he'd reached 10, and before he'd come to Night Raven. There was nothing to remember. He'd slept through half the days of the week, rotting in his bed as the energy began sneaking away from him.

The only exception had been his mother.

Even with her health rapidly deteriorating after Leonas birth, because of his birth, she never loved him any less than she did Farena.

It wasn't his fault. Nothing was.

It wasn't his fault that she wouldn't be there to see him grow. It wasn't his fault that the attendants around the palace hated him. It wasn't his fault that he'd been given the power to destroy.

It wasnt his fault he was unloved.

How could a child have controlled the circumstances to be in his favor?

For the years she'd been around in Leonas life, he remembered her with nothing but fondness and love in his tired heart.

When he had turned 1, she had been the first to congratulate him. She'd snuck into his room at midnight, the light of the moon reflecting her features as she'd whispered to his ears a soft, "Happy Birthday, my little prince". He'd been so confused, blinking sleepily up at her. She'd chuckled at his reaction, urging for him to go back to sleep. Amirah had sat by the foot of his crib, her son's tiny hand in hers as she reassured him. "We have all the time in the world."

When he was 2, the boy had grown a little bigger. He remembered the day he'd first learned to walk. With each stumble, she'd kept encouraging for him to keep going. With wobbly feet, he'd finally managed to get across to her. She let out a laugh full of pride as she'd gently picked him up. Shed held him close to her chest, murmuring "I knew you could do it, Leo."

When he was 3, was when his curiosity had really started to set in. It was the prime age of all toddlers to grow imaginative aboutthe world. He had mindlessly flipped through the large pages of his children's books, not quite getting some of the material. And so, he'd rushed to his mother's room, moving as fast as he could on those little legs of his with a load of books in his hands. His mother had seemed surprised when he'd suddenly burst through the door, but as usual, she welcomed him with open arms. They'd sat together from the afternoon long into the night, Amirah doing as best as she could to explain to her young son. The boy listened as eagerly as he could, sitting still for as long as possible. Until eventually, the soft lull of his mother's voice began to sound like the sweet melody of a lullaby. Hed nodded blearily by the time night had fallen, his small ears drooping. On those days, Amirah let him stay in with her. And as expected, she always held him close to her heart, hands supporting his small head. "Goodnight, Leona."

When he turned 4, Leona began to slowly grow into his features. He'd tilted his head as he'd stared at himself in the mirror. He noticed he looked alot like his mom. The colour of their eyes was the same, a royal shade of emerald. His brown curls, he'd gotten exactly from her. He remembered the time he'd tried braiding some strands of her hair with his little fingers. It hadn't turned out pretty, really. But his mom had kept them in for the whole day. Later in the day, he'd told his mom how happy he was that he looked so much like her. To look like the person he loved so much.

When he turned 5, he took more notice. His mom was growing more sick. She seemed more frail, more lethargic. She didn't have the energy to chase him around anymore to take a bath, nor did she have the energy to play hide and seek with him when he used to hide, afraid of getting his nails cut. Even so, the light in her eyes never diminished. One particular night, he'd crawled into her bed, gently tugging at her sleeves like he had always done. Even with how exhausted she was, she'd sat herself up, brushing the hair out of his face as she'd smile down at him. Always loving. But this time, she'd been melancholic.

"My little prince, mommy might go away soon." She'd muttered softly. "And.. I won't be coming back."

He'd stared up at her confused, earning him a soft chuckle as she begun to explain. Her sickness had recently taken a turn for the worst, and she'd been told by the nurses and doctors to prepare any day now. Yet, she'd gently stroked his hair all the while, in hopes of soothing his heart.

Leona hadn't quite yet processed it. Why did his mom have to go away? Why couldn't she stay? He wanted her to stay with him. She was all he had.

And before he knew it, tears were streaming down his cheeks. Amirah had brought him close to her chest once more, and perhaps for the final time. Shed held him there for as long as she could, humming a soft lullaby in his ears. She'd kissed the top of his forehead, whispering to him right before he fell asleep. "Don't forget that I love you, Leona."

......

Perhaps it was a good thing he'd gotten his scar. The one that marred across his left eye. If he looked too closely into the mirror, all he saw was the spitting image of his mom staring back at him. The scar set them both apart.

He didn't think he could handle it if he was reminded of her every single day.

In the years after her death, he'd found studying as a way to cope. He had read tirelessly in the library, hoping to earn some form of recognition if he proved his intelligence.

And for a while, it worked.

Until he came along.

The day Prince Cheka had been born had been a real turning point for him.

Nobody cared to take note of how hard he'd worked. The hours he'd spent rereading college material at the age of 10, to the point he'd constantly cried tears of frustration and annoyance if he didn't get it immediately. The constant exhaustion after staying up all night, to get not a single question of concern regarding the eyebags under his eyes that seemed to big for a child such as he.

All of that? Thrown out the window as soon as his nephew was born.

Unlike the day he has been born, Chekas birth was celebrated. The irony of it, considering the topic of his birth had always been ignored. He shouldn't have gotten annoyed at a child. It wasn't his fault.

But the burning frustration within him couldn't be ceased.

And boy, did his relationship with Farena only complicate things further.

His older brother had always been nice to him. He wondered if he would have been loving too. If only Leona hadn't pushed him away.

It burned, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much effort he out in, he would never be first.

When would he get to see his mom again?

He'd finally learned how to tie braids now. He desperately wanted to show her, reaching out to do them on her brown curls just as he had when he was a child.

Was returning to her warm embrace such a bad thing to ask for?

[bwat5-blog]

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

A detailed refuting of the concept that "Vi is the Jinx"

So what are people saying when they make these accusations regarding Vi’s character? Well the only way I can think to take it is people are saying she is the cause of their misfortune and suffering. The cause of her loved ones demise, and the driving factor in the darkness and pain of their universe. No facet of the show supports this as I will explain below.

I have written about this extensively in a variety of posts. I am not unaware of this. I am also not unaware of the fact that ultimately, people are free to consume/enjoy/interpret this wonderful and heartbreaking story in any manner they see fit. What I aim to do here is an in-depth, detailed examination of the primary negative occurrences in the story, and given the information we are given demonstrate that Vi is not the issue. Why? Because I am continuing to champion understanding and literacy of one of the best stories/tv shows we have been blessed with in my lifetime. For any of you who are patient and kind enough to read this. It will be quite long, and it will likely repeat some content from other posts, but I believe that for those of us who love incredible storytelling, standing up for those stories that are worth it matters. To those who take the time, thank you. Continue to stand up for the importance of stories that live in you long after they are over.

Season 1: Act 1-

The absolutely vital thing to remember is that although this is the beginning of the story for us, we are in joining these characters just before the dynamite goes off that will shatter their world. Below is a list of factors that should be noted regarding this idea:

Vander and Silco's long running conflict, with Silco waiting for his opportunity to strike

Years and years of oppression and hostility between Zaun and Piltover

Jayce already being well into his hex-tech research (which as we will come to learn was being helped along by space jesus Victor even then)

The long developing of shimmer and machinations of Singed

The situation is a powder keg. Years of hostility and oppression, a brilliant and calculating criminal mind waiting in the shadows for his moment to seize control, an idealistic young scientist with no idea of the danger he is dabbling in, and a brilliant scientist utterly devoid of morals in the service of his goals. By the time we join our characters the ship is already sinking, we just don't know it yet. Now taking that into consideration, lets dive in.

The Explosion at the Lab: This is undoubtedly the driving force of Act 1 in terms of the incident and its effects. Keeping things simple, below you will find a bare bones list of all the negative effects in act 1 that can be attributed to this incident not considering blame or fault:

Death of Milo, Clagger and we are lead to assume Vander

Separation of Vi and Power and by extension, the birth of Jinx

Trial of Jayce Talis and by extension, his partnering with Victor, leading to the true birth of hex tech

Deaths of Grayson and Benzo, allowing Marcus to take Grayson's place as Silco's corrupt sheriff

Silco seizes control of the lanes and all of the negatives that come with it (shimmer, violence etc)

Now at a glance, its easy to say "See! These things only happen because of the explosion, and the explosion happens because Vi takes the kids there. So Vi is the issue!". This is extraordinarily simplistic thinking to the point of willfully ignoring the context. Lets delve deeper:

Order of events as we understand them:

Jayce Talis enters the undercity, purchasing equipment for his research. He interacts with Echo.

Echo tells Vi and friends about the lab after following Jayce

The kids go on their heist, causing the explosion

Jayce is locked up and put on trial, being banished and having his research taken

Enforcers enter the under-city causing conflict over series of days

Vi tries to turn herself in but Vander takes her place

Silco uses Shimmer mutant to murder Grayson and Benzo and take Vander

Jayce and Victor become partners taking Hex-Tech into the next phase

Vi, Milo and Clagger make rescue attempt ending in death of the two boys, vander, and the separation from Powder leaving her vulnerable to become Jinx.

Accusations people make from this information:

Vi got Vander, Clagger, Milo, Benzon and Greyson killed

Vi is responsible for hex-tech because the explosion she caused pushed Victor and Jayce together

Vi makes Jinx because she hits powder, yells at her, and calls her a Jinx

Since Vi got Vander killed she is the reason Silco is able to take the Lanes and flood them with Shimmer and so on

Responses:

Vi is the reason for hex-tech: This is quite simply untrue. Jayce is well into his research when this incident occurs. In fact when he is found out he insists he has almost cracked it. Victor is Heimerdinger's (the leader of the city and a preeminent scientist who already knows Jayce personally) assistant and a scientist with self-admitted ambition to become more. Not to mention their wealthy benefactor in Mel who is looking to make a name for herself and finances them. Now sure you could make the argument that the explosion is what draws attention to hex-tech bringing Mel into the equation. But Mel by her own admission is searching for that way to earn her place in the world and Jayce was absolutely going to keep going. This was a matter of when, not if. And every single person involved bears more responsibility than the girl in her early-mid teens who had no idea it was there when she lead her family on an adventure trying to feed them.

Vi makes Jinx: I have covered this extensively and if you are reading this that means my writing doesn't bore you to death so you have probably read my thoughts already. So i'll try to keep this brief. Silco made Jinx. The grieving teenage girl who had just watched her whole family die violently and barely survived herself lashing out at her sister in a moment she clearly immediately regrets is not to blame here. The broken man/crime lord taking that shattered little girl and weaponizing her grief and guilt is to blame. and if you want to say it's Vi's fault for leaving Powder in the first place. She defends Powder to everyone. She tells Powder she believes in her and that her gadgets will work. She tells Powder her differences make her strong. She only leaves Powder behind after being lectured by Vander on her responsibility to keep her safe, and after seeing the horror of the shimmer mutant unleashed.

Vi is the reason Milo, Clagger, Benzo, Grayson and Vander are dead: Each of these characters is dead because of one person. Silco. Milo, Clagger and Vander all die during the rescue mission of Vander from Silco's hideout. Sure the explosion Powder sets off is what kills the boys, but they are only in this mess because Silco took advantage of the chaos to kidnap Vander drawing them there. Vi's part in this is fighting for her life against multiple armed adult thugs even though she isn't even grown yet. Silco stabs Vander and Vander sacrifices himself taking Shimmer to try and get Vi out. Benzo is dead after verbally confronting Silco, and Grayson is murdered as an opportunity for Silco to install Marcus as his puppet.

Vi is the reason Silco can take control: This is really just an extension of everything we just discussed. This is quite frankly silly. Silco has been waiting for years. He has an army, weapons, and most importantly Shimmer. Which brings us to Singed. A brilliant scientist utterly devoid of Morals who manufactures this substance turning the downtrodden people of Zaun into Silco's monsters.

Conclusion- Yes, Vi leads them on the heist which causes the explosion and the related ripples. But she is not to blame. The tragedy that unfolds is the result of years of suffering in the under city, the machinations of a crime lord so secure in his convictions he will harm anyone he deems necessary, and the innocent overreach of a young scientist who brought forth the end of the world in his dream of improving lives. Vi may be the deer that walks out in front of the car. But the driver is drunk and angry, the mechanic he just left cut his breaks, and years of neglect by the city have left the roads broken and jagged making everything worse. Vi is not the perpetrator, she is just another victim

Season 1: Act 2-

Act 2 of season 1 sees a very different world for our characters. Vi has been imprisoned for seven years. And in those seven years Vi's sweet, clever little sister Powder has become the feared notorious criminal Jinx. Silco has risen to power, smuggling shimmer with the assistance of the corrupt sheriff of Piltover and conducting his operations under the sheriff's protection. Hex-Tech has become globalized. And the firelights have risen in opposition to Silco.

The Hunt For Jinx Begins: The driving conflict in this act is Jinx's attack on the city, theft of the hex gemstone, and the hunt for her that leads to Caitlyn and Vi's mission.

In this act, there is much less for people to try and link to Vi in terms of trouble but for a barebones look at the various conflicts:

Jinx attacking the firelights, enforcers, and stealing the gem

Hex Tech development into the Hex core, and the ousting of Heimerdinger when he protests

Jinx mental turmoil ratchets up in the discovery of Vi being alive and their reunion

Accusations:

Vi made Jinx, so Vi is responsible for Jinx's crimes

Vi caused Hex tech, so every progression toward the bad thing we know is her fault

Vi's reentry into Jinx's life and trying to help her be Powder again makes everything worse

Responses:

Vi made Jinx so she is responsible for her crimes: No she didn't. No she isn't. see above

Vi caused Hex Tech so every progression is on her: No she didn't. See above.

Vi's reentry into jinx's life and trying to help her be Powder makes it worse: Vi spent every day for seven years hoping and dreaming of finding her sister again. When she does and jinx tells her she is different and "did things" Vi does not judge her or shame her and welcomes her back as family. When Vi is taken driving Jinx further into that mental darkness its's against Vi's will after being knocked out by firelights

Conclusion: This act is the result of the changes all brought into the world at the end of the first act. So not much to discuss. Primarily as Vi did not make Jinx, her sister's crimes are not on here. Not that that will stop her from feeling guilty since Vi has a good heart and loves her sister.

Season 1: Act 3-

Act 3 primarily deals with forcing Vi to see that her sister is not who she was, through the "Dinner Party" and the attempted and failed making peace with Zaun. In terms of Vi, there isn't much new here to discuss in terms of what people are trying to blame her for. Anything Jinx does is blamed on Vi for the erroneous statement that Vi made Jinx, including by Jinx herself. Its important to remember at this point Jinx is giving her own sister the choice between killing Caitlyn or "Getting Powder Back". There is no getting Powder back. This is Jinx at a peak of manic and aggressive behavior. Her blaming Vi is a way to cope and hurt someone besides herself. There are however important developments that will be extremely relevant to this entire conversation moving forward into Season 2:

With Singed's help they progress hex-tech into the hex core and we also see the hex core kill for the first time.

Ambessa's arrival

Jinx's killing of Silco and murder of three Piltover council members moments from Zaun being given independence.

**Vi's guilt over stopping Caitlyn from hurting Jinx only to then witness Jinx kill Caitlyn's mother is a very important moving forward, but we must remember Vi is a young woman in her early twenties in a terrifying situation trying to keep her sister and the woman she loves from killing each other**

Conclusion for season 1: So quick recap. Vi did not make Jinx. She is in no way responsible for Hex Tech. She is not responsible for any of Silco's actions and she is has been victimized and hurt by most of it.

Season 2: Act 1-

Season 2 picks up in the immediate aftermath of Jinx's attack. Vi is in the terrible position of grieving the loss of who her sister was, guilt over not being able to stop her sister in general, and IMMENSE guilt as her sister killed the woman she love's mother. I'm not going to repeat myself in terms of Hex-tech or Jinx related guilt unless its needed for new context.

Ending the First Hunt for Jinx: This act is primarily the conclusion of Vi and Caitlyn hunting Jinx together in terms of Vi' story and in terms of what fans are trying to lay at Vi's feet there isn't much here. Primarily there is a lot of talk over her decision to put on the uniform of the enforcer and what the strike team does while she is on it.

The Accusation: Vi putting on the uniform is a betrayal of her people and her family

Response: I have addressed this in depth in another document so will try to spare you all the rant. Put simply, The use of the grey was morally questionable. That is not debatable. But it's not fatal like people make it out to be, as we see characters exposed who walk away unharmed other than some discomfort. Vi explains to Jinx it was to keep innocents off of the street during the fighting. And in terms of putting on the uniform itself, some things to remember:

She refused the first time

Piltover retaliation was already guranteed. Then after the attack on the memorial it was exacerbated.

Caitlyn shares she is afraid if she goes after Jinx alone one of them is coming back in a box (AKA Vi's worst nightmare)

Only agrees after the memorial attack and sends everyone but her and Cait away as soon as they find Jinx

Conclusion: Vi was between a rock and a hard place and did the best she could in an impossible situation

Season 2: Act 2-

Act 2 of season 2 finds Vi at her lowest point. She has lost everyone. Jinx seems totally beyond redemption and her beloved Caitlyn, the first person to show her kindness in seven years left her after hitting her and telling her she was no better than the woman who had killed Caitlyn's mother and so many others.

The Primary sources of conflict in this act are: The finding and losing of Vander (included within this is Vi and Jinx starting to become family again), Caitlyn's redemption, Victor's losing himself to the hex tech/arcane completely.

Of these sources of conflict none of them can be laid at Vi's feet. But to tally the losses since the "Vi is the Jinx" people are still holding on to this:

The loss of Vander again-

The death of Isha-

The "death" of Victor and his cult

Accusations:

*disclaimer I have not seen anyone saying these specifically. Just tracking the logic for the people trying to blame her for everything*

Vi got Vander killed again-

Vi got Isha Killed-

Vi got Victor and his cult killed-

Response:

Vi got vander killed- Vander was "killed" again due to the attack by Ambessa and interference of Singed who was willing to sacrifice him for his own goals. The only part Vi played was having to watch her father die. AGAIN.

Vi got Isha killed- see above but swap father for little girl.

Vi got Victor and his cult killed- Jayce killed Victor on Victor's orders (weird time is relative cosmic stuff) but nothing to do with Vi

Conclusion: Vi's story sees her at her lowest point in this act. absolutely devastating to see her smile during that brief moment of happiness before its all ripped away. But none of what she loses is her fault

Season 3: Act 3-

This is the big finale and this act has been the primary driving factor in this idea that Vi was the problem all along. For those of you have stuck with me this far I appreciate you more than you know and hope this has been worth your time to read. Lets dig in.

The Big conflict driving the conclusion of this story is: The war with Ambessa/Victor, The destruction of Hex-Tech before it ends the world, and the fate of Jinx. I have addressed each of these topics throughout this post and will not be laying out the accusations/response/conclusion format. To begin with, we have to talk about the AU Episode-

The AU Episode:

Echo finds himself in a seemingly idyllic Piltover/Zaun. Hextech never was fully realized. Benzo, Milo, Clagger and Vander all live. Jinx is Powder, grown up and happy. Silco and Vander are reconciled. But Vi is dead, the explosion during the heist having taken her life. Powder keeps a shrine to her sister. Vander has a tattoo bearing her name. People have taken this to mean that it was in fact Vi all along that was the issue. This is, in a word, nonsense. The point of this universe in the words of the showrunner himself (see Arcane Afterglow for Season 2 Act 3), is for Echo to see that there is a version of their world still worth fighting for. He sees a world without hex-tech and how things could be. The world is not better without Vi in it. The world is better because Vi's death drew attention to something terrible and dangerous before it went even further. Imagine in our world there some new toy that is shaping up to be very popular with children, until a flaw in its safety is revealed when an innocent child days from an accident involving the toy so the the toy is taken off of the shelves. and children everywhere are safer, the world is better. But it's not because it was that Childs fault or they did something wrong. They were the victim whose blood paid the price.

*Additionally, something I don't see brought up enough is that Heimerdinger had years in this universe before Echo even arrived. He has clearly has been putting the time into the Undercity he didn't in the main universe*

Vi and Jinx: Vi and Jinx both learn a similar lesson in this act. While Jinx learns that she has to walk away, to break the cycle, to stop running in circles, Vi learns she can't keep chasing Jinx trying to save her. She has to live for herself and allow herself to be happy. That's why despite the accusation that she is a bad sister, Vi's romantic encounter with Caitlyn is Vi finally letting herself have what she wants, rather than chasing after Jinx and panicking and spending what could be her last night alive continuing to ride the roller coaster. Instead, she steps off the ride, and allows herself to know love, and pleasure, and warmth with the woman she loves. People really focus on the location of it but in that moment the location was irrelevant. Vi has finally seen the light in this regard and the woman she loves has redeemed herself in Vi's eyes.

*Vi speaks on how she always chooses wrong and it has cost her everyone. People have also taken this as a sort of mission statement for their undeserving campaign against this character. The thing is, the show proves her wrong, and does it quickly:

Caitlyn immediately and passionately shows Vi that Vi has not lost everyone. She is there, she loves here, and knowing she was going to make the choice to free the woman who killed Caitlyn's mother, she does it anyway

Even though Echo seals the deal, Vi didn't choose wrong by believing and trusting in Jinx. Jinx comes back to her, leading the under-city forces and turns the tide of the battle. She was the hero her sister believed she was

Vi got Jinx Killed: And at last we come it. The final of the great injustices people are laying Vi's character. I covered this in a recent post as well but the short version is as follows:

Sees her birth parents killed

Sees her adoptive father die

Gets him back (in a heavily mutated form) for a punishingly short time only to lose him again horribly

Watches him die again.

She is literally standing over him at the end of all the horrible things they have been through, sobbing and going to cradle his head. We see her flashing back to the first time she watched him die. It was just too much. I and many others have said it really seems like she can't even hear Jinx in that moment. When "Vander" pops up to his feet Vi doesn't even fight. She scrambles back afraid saying Vander's name and sounds like a scared little girl who just wants her dad. Its HORRIBLE. And even though she is not dead, Jinx takes the opportunity to make sure the older sister she loves, who never gave up on her gets away.

Vi's ending is bittersweet. She is sitting alone, drinking, humming the song we hear in the beginning of the show. People with no understanding of human behavior have claimed she looks too happy, she doesn't care about her sister. Yes she does. She is finally on a path that can lead to happiness with Caitlyn' because of her sisters sacrifice for her.

[sotogalmo]

8:22, yesterday — 12:12

Make this party yours (From the day), And no, (I took out) don’t look back now. / Now you’re tainted (the black fruit), God won’t have you anymore (I swallowed sweetly)

(I'll only tag for info sake. After this I'll stop being annoying; @solei-eclipse , @junebluues , @ivanttakethis , @apriciticreveries , @rosedeleca , @4listr , @friedclownshrimp , @rockwgooglyeyes , @bluemoonscape , @teapotuser , @skyisjusthere , @starry-skiez , @pwippy , @aakaneeee , @yunoftheclouds , @alien-til-i-stage , @nottoonedin , @tsukacchako , @astoryofsuchwoe , @zerostyrant + possibly others I forgotten)

Name: Pale— moreso surname meaning, but having pale in someone's name just means 'pale of skin, pallid'. But from the late 14c. as "fence of pointed stakes." Paler as a surname meaning "fence-builder" is recorded from late 12c. Another Middle English form of the word in the "fence, paling, wall of an enclosure" sense, based on the plural, was pales, palis (late 14c.), and the surname Paliser is attested from early 14c. I suppose the "fence builder" one makes the most sense with how Pale is

Animal: Lion

Solar: Saturn

Flower: Begonia Saturn, Coriander

Tarot: Strength (and a little bit of Devil)

Sin: Lust

Organ: Hands.

Birth date: 1201 (December 1th)

Age: 33

ID: 010401

Body: 170.18 cm (5'7ft) / 76kg

Affiliation: Class of Season 32

Likes: painting, quiet rooms, grass, nature

Dislikes: loud things, being owned, disobedience

Personality: Pale, acting with grace and sophistication along with acting wittily and provocatively and also being stoic, calm, and observant, is a well-bred pet human and was raised by human scientists, so he conducts himself as someone befitting of his status. But he isn't all just a pretty face and such. He's selfish, conniving, and manipulative. Most importantly, very destructive. As he has little empathy with others and manipulated people as he saw fit, similarly willing to dispose of anyone who got in his way or whom he deemed worthy of his revenge. Raised by the human scientists got him quite power hungry since he's been raised in power and humans who are high on such power that they achieved (being respected by aliens is something you have to achieve, it's no easy and simple task, and yet they have done it so can you blame them?). But with power, comes feelings of hollowness. Troubles, and that leads to more power hunger. Having felt this from childhood, all he ever really truly felt, his clearest emotions were that of loneliness and anger at the world; being alienated in the sense that he's human raised. Giving way to the fact that he's a troubled man, wanting to connect with the lesser beings in his class. But no one knows that because he hides it well with many ways to cope with it, but mainly with a cold exterior... maybe. Having him being an enigmatic individual to them, and characterized by his curiosity, affability, and disregard for consequences. But all in all, Pale is a straightforward "do no good" man; since he disregards rules and consequences. But he is also a hypocrite (hypocrite, if he's attached he's attached.).

Special talent: Painting

Voice: Britain from Hetalia when speaking / Nao Hex SYNTHV for singing (which sometimes happens, but he doesn't sing on the stage).

Signature:

The P is a bow and arrow, the L forms a canvas. The e is in canvas

History/Lore (as of right now)

Pale is apart of "toxic ysosu" with amia's Vic and syd's Theo. Most? of his childhood has been explored by Syd while writing about Theo and Theo's life in the garden and before he sang. Pale was the quiet older one between them, if I remember the ages right (well ofc between him and theo), quite similar to Luka in that regard.

He went to ANAKT later, because of some complications that happened and it made him stay behind for a while.

For when he is in ANAKT, I don't think he had a collar on, because of how obedient he was (even if his obedience is just because it was needed and required). His uniform is the same as Ivan's, for that reason. A simple turtleneck, long sleeves and long pants.

Pales relationship to the teachers and aliens as a whole is nothing special, only summed up as "a pleasure to have in class". Even if he did.. slightly cause mischief. Just to see what the other kids would do. That's for the teachers. With the aliens as a whole, he's more "respected" than the others he's been around. But that's expected because of who he was raised by.

He finds all of the kids in his class dumb, yes even Theo and Vic. While he is "romantically" involved with them, he finds their humanity to be an obstacle.

He's softer on Theo, because that Innocence of belief is something he never experienced. He's softer on Vic, because of how determined he was to be set free (even if that did annoyed him).

Pales body state, is top notch. Perfect build for what he deals with in the future— he trains his arms and upper body often in the garden with the "fishes", that get progressively harder to carry.

Overall threat level: low to medium

His guardian?

Why of course it's one of the respected humans.

This human is called Abel, he has a twin called Cain. And an older or maybe younger brother called Seth.

His style of clothing is shared with the alien scientists, that made Yume (minus the "neckfur" he has around his neck. It's a baby alien slug that was the reason for how he got the respect he did).

Abel... All three of them are enigmatic individuals characterized by their curiosity, affability, and disregard for consequences. And the fact that they have made scientific break throughs, a lot. Their later methods having helped with the experiments that Yume Nagai has went thru. They even suggested that he would have a last name.

Last names are something that they have an interest in. Learning about pre-alien human history; last names have always intrigued Abel the most. All of the names actually. He's interested in what purpose they have in life. And he (Abel) suggested that Yume could have a last name. Cain was the one that came up with the word.

Abel views Pale as a "son", as those seem to be the only words that fit their relation, and such. It's more reinforced with the way that his own ways have bleed into what Pale does.

But lale doesn't view him as a "father" though, because of his absence and his own general anger to the world, and with the way that he was raised.. having stayed confined in its walls, forbidden to leave except when sent to help some of the "newborns" or seeing other kids to make sure that they were alright. He was continuously told that he needed to study more and work harder if he wanted to please the Aliens.

Yes, he was working more and hard to please the Aliens. He might be raised by humans respected by aliens, but it's only a few that do respect them. So that had him grew up well educated but severely emotionally deprived. So he doesn't use the term 'owner' as that just doesn't sit right with him, so he uses the term "guardian" to call him as such.

Cain and Abel are in their early 50s. Seth is in late 40s? or late 50s.

Pale and Eeta have known each other since they were kids.

Pale and Eeta had Innamorati in their early teens. Hänsel and Gretel were later down the line, in late teens but they "never made it".

Pale got into AREPH when he was 26

Pale had Kotus in his mid 20s with Molly (a fling). Kotus was around 5 when Molly had Raon. Pale was 29? When he and Dae had that one night stand.

Pale does view Theo as someone only he can be with. No matter what happens. Basically, Pale initially just saw him as a means of gaining insight on what it's like to feel emotions, but over time grew to care about him and found peace from their 'companionship' together. That's the best way to put it. And he shows that lightly with making small paintings, or things similar to such.

He does not have romantic feelings nor want them. He might envision himself in a romantic relationship, but he would rather have a complicated relationship then.. that.

He has complicated feelings on the love thing. He wants it, but doesn't feel the same when it's real.

Symbolism

↓↓

His animal is a lion. Quite simple honestly; courage, physical strength, and bravery for the simple view of it. Royalty, protection, leadership, wisdom, justice. All of that. And it honestly fits with Pale, in the way he's raised- his feelings to the world, relationship with Vic and Theo, and for the simple view of it being how he's in AREPH. This is a straightforward thing from the things I picked out

His solar symbol is the planet Saturn. This one I had a hard time with, but didn't want to ask and so I decided to do this all myself. But I do think that it fits. The discipline, order, and structure, plus tough or necessary lessons (karma). A symbol of it was a scythe or a sickel for the seed-sowing times and such. The order and discipline most certainly work with him.

His flower is a Begonia Saturn, sharing the same name with the planet just because I wanted to know if there was one called as such and there is! The symbolism of it. Begonias mainly mean caution and consideration, as well as good communication between different parties. It is commonly given as a gift when paying back a favour. But the Begonia Saturn means (well, all flowers meant) deep and romantic love. They were considered a representation of passion and were commonly used in love spells and potions. Additionally, begonias were seen as a symbol of fancifulness and were often used in gardens and floral displays. I think it's fitting! The Coriander, is here because of how it's connected with his sin; lust— coriander's past as a component in love potions may seem quaint, it continues to be a symbol of wellness and harmony.

His Tarot. Now this is fun. Strength mixed with the Devil. strength, determination, and power – like The Chariot. However, while The Chariot signifies outer strength and will, the Strength card speaks to the inner strength and the human spirit's ability to overcome any obstacle. Strength is about knowing you can endure life's obstacles. But I'm mainly using the reversed! Reversed Strength meaning you have limited control over your actions and your energy is out of control. This can lead to pettiness, fragility, and abuse of authority. It's very fitting for what he does and such. How he's around newcomers in AREPH, and all I suppose. And the Devil? The Devil tarot card suggests feelings of obsession, addiction, and entrapment. It can signify a sense of helplessness due to external forces or circumstances. However, it reminds you that you're responsible for your actions, and your perceived constraints are often self-imposed. This one spoke to me as Pale, because I've been connecting him with Luka quite a lot and it fits it a lot. Helplessness by external forces? It's all fitting

His Sin. Lust. Okay, so this one seems very.. apparent with what I've done with him due to the fact that he has 3 living kids and had a one night stand with Dae, who's a horny bastard. But I swear it's not just the sexual desires to fill the hole and void. I remember lightly talking about the sins of Yun once. They have gone with "bloodlust" for the lust sin. And I really like that idea, and I hope they don't mind me mentioning them here and going with that idea. And also, technically Lust is also about being damned. In Dante's Divine Comedy, the lustful are punished in the Inferno by being swept around in a whirlwind, which symbolizes their ungovernable passions. Which I think is also fitting. Ungovernable passions, power hunger. All of that

The organ symbol, I gave him. Hands. To me, organ symbols connect to the sin. While the tongue would've worked as well, hands just felt. The hands were calling. Which honestly first had me thinking that Greed would be fitting. But he's.. not that greedy. To say. Anyways, the hands. Their symbolism, being the embodiment of strength, help, protection, power, or authority. The image of the palm can symbolize order, vitality, and generosity. A hand logo can be associated with aspiration, authority and dignity, creation, and skill. And I honestly think it just fits. Plainly fits him. It connects to the Lion, to the tarot, his sin and the fact that his talent is painting! His hands are used a lot. Quite a lot.

Pale -> Theo: (a 'giggle'?) He makes me weak. I can't let him know that he does that- I still don't want to show myself ... Fully. To him. He already knows .. too much of me. He's too much.... but my type of too much. To say for the positive, and not to just wallow in those feelings. (Intimacy: 95%)

Pale -> Vic: ....I don't know why he thought what he did was okay. It's not. His disobedience.. I. I didn't like seeing the scars or what they have went thru- but. Oh, who knows what type of Utopia they have reached. (Intimacy: 54%)

^ overall: we went to ask sensitive questions to get more of his views. This is all he said

________________________________

My Evillious Chronicles friends. You will find the Adam Moonlit, Pale Noel, Kaspar Blankenheim and Gumina Glassred in him pretty easily.

[thedelicatearcher]

Hiii I just wanted to tell you that I love your work and that it always brightens my mood!!

And can can you make something about finnicks and reader who is like really musical, can play instruments and maybe include something (only if you want to) about r making a sad song and he's kinda worried about her?? 💕

thank you so much!! i really really appreciate when someone tells me that, i love writing about soft finnick

finnick odair with musical gf headcanons 

finnick had a ukulele when he was a kid. every afternoon, he would go to the beach with his little ukulele and strum chords as he watched the shore, trying to find a melody that matched the calm and relaxing ocean waves. 

but he stopped playing years ago. after a powerful hurricane hit district four and destroyed parts of the city, his home suffered the same fate. the fierce winds took his ukelele away, losing it in the chaos. young finnick was really devastated by this loss and couldn't bring himself to play any other instrument after that. 

when he met you, it was as if he were transported back to those moments on the beach, when it was just him and the music. your presence made him feel like he was hearing the prettiest melody. he was completely enthralled by you, wanting to listen to your voice for hours as if it were a classical tune. 

you always bring an instrument wherever you go, whether it’s your guitar, your keyboard, or even your harmonica. and wherever you go, finnick goes too. so it's no surprise that he is used to you randomly playing an instrument when you get bored, him quietly moving his head along to the rhythm of your music, looking at you with an adoring look on his face.

he loves your harmonica, loves watching you play such a simple-looking instrument so skillfully. but what does he love the most about it? borrowing it and playing it himself. at first he just blew air into it until he was out of breath, inadvertently coating it- and everything in front of him -with saliva. but after sitting down with him and patiently explaining how to play it, he can now play short, easy songs. the proud smile on his face after he’s done is worth more than any capitol jewel.

you convinced him to try to learn to play the piano, but he’s just terrible at it, lacking the coordination needed to move both hands simultaneously while maintaining a good tune. he gets very frustrated every time you try to teach him and often says he prefers when you play, observing how gracefully your fingers move and noting that you don’t sport the big frown he does while playing.

you're singing all the time, from humming your favorite songs while you cook together in the kitchen, to softly singing in the shower the song that’s been stuck in your head for days, to singing your self-written songs on your shared bedroom floor at night. finnick, as your biggest fan, adores your beautiful voice. he especially loves the way you run your fingers through his hair while softly singing to him a song you wrote about his sea-green eyes. he has the time of his life when you dramatically perform songs from your favorite musicals just for him.

what he loves the most about you is that you are also a songwriter. ever since you were fifteen, you’ve spent most afternoons on your bedroom floor, pouring your feelings into songs. that hasn’t changed now that you are older, but now you have a muse. his soft crinkles by his eyes, his soft pink lips, and the way he bites them when focused are details that fill you with love and inspiration. his loving and playful personality fuels most of your songwriting. however, you don’t always write songs about him; some are inspired by past relationships, general non-romantic emotions, insecurities, or scenarios from movies you’ve watched. 

one day, finnick came home early and heard soft music as he entered. slowly approaching your door, he was met with the sound of your voice singing a melancholic melody. as the caring boyfriend he is, finnick became worried about you. he didn’t enter the room, wanting to give you some privacy, and waited for you to finish your song and come out to ask if you wanted to talk about your feelings. “i’m fine, finn, just had a rough day and i’m feeling a bit insecure,” you said as finnick held you and kissed your forehead. knowing that writing songs is your way of coping, he simply cuddled you and asked whether you wanted to talk about it or get distracted. after hours of cuddling and watching a movie, you took him to your bedroom and showed him your song, opening your heart and sharing with him a vulnerability only he gets to see.

[the-barricade]

behind the wish of the well

rook x reader

perhaps the well that had been granting all your wishes wasn’t so magic after all… and it was as if your luck had just run out as you searched for what your heart truly desired

—————————————

Despite how suspicious it may look to be wandering around in the earliest hours of the day, the light of the early hours shone in a way that eased your woes. There were no signs of people at this hour, though you were never left alone, for the birds sung and chirped as if showing off a sense of camaraderie to you. It was the moment you felt most comfortable to indulge in what was perhaps a silly little habit. But it was joyful nonetheless.

The wishing well you’d made your way to (you could tell of its nature from the many coins tossed in of all different ages) seemed long-forgotten, you were it’s only friend. It was hidden away behind all sorts of bushes and foliage, covered in vines that hugged it like they had just been reunited.

Sometimes, you thought that the well was lonesome, hence why it was so nice to you. Often times you’d sing or read to it, telling it about all the latest news from the school that was just out of reach to it.

Today, you sat on the edge of the well, not saying much of anything. Your thoughts echoed so loud and almost reverberated through your heart, in a way that you didn’t have to speak. It was something you’d been wanting to come to terms with for a long time. Perhaps, the sense of camaraderie you and the well had with each other was because you, too, were lonely. You yearned for a love like no other, but couldn’t dare imagine the day it would find it’s way down the right path into reality.

So maybe, if you wished hard enough, some magic (or a miracle) could help you out.

It was your only plan, so you decided that you would follow it through. Getting off the edge of the well, you turned to face it. “I wish to find love, true love, beyond the constraints of my imagination…” You said it quietly, as if it was a wish that shouldn’t be spoken. But then, with much more confidence in your voice, you continued, “I promise I won’t leave you behind, once it happens.” That was a promise you had to make, it would be too cruel, otherwise.

And so, you sat at the well as your heart was filled with a hope that made it jump and skip at the sound of your thoughts, and you listened to the birds. All too ignorant that your wish had in fact been heard, and by the sharpest of ears.

Life went on, as you’d expect, and you felt a little down. Maybe, at the end of the day, your well wasn’t so magical, or your wish was too big. It had only been a few days, total, but the well had never wanted to test your patience or resolve before. Like the time you had just wished that you could crack the code to getting along with one of your classmates, and you’d found a gift hidden in your bag with their name on it. Turns out, when you gave it to them, it was a very peculiar thing that they were specifically interested in and it lit a spark. That was a very obvious wish granted… but no lover had simply fallen into place.

It may be best to stay virtuous and wait, but it felt like days dragged on for millennia, weighed down by the hopes of your heart, and the assumptions of your brain.

Just wish and wait, it was an easy mantra.

But then, just as anyone should expect from miracles, you started to see a glimmer of hope just when you were about to give it all up. And that glimmer was very, very bright.

about as bright as the sun shined through the window on the 1st of February, the day you found a bouquet of red roses adorning the inside of your locker. A marksman had taken his fist shot as Cupid.

It seemed like your impossible love was becoming a reality, and you felt bad for even doubting the powers of the well.

Everyday, since then, you revived a gift in your locker, different every time. Today, it was a purple handkerchief, with red embroidered details. It was cute, simple and heartfelt. And, unbeknownst to you, one of the last gifts you’d be receiving, for the very next day would be the 14th. A special day.

Today, when you were on your way to check you locker, you saw something wholly unexpected. There was another student there, with an awkward, almost nervous smile on his face. And as you later noted, a letter in his hands. He handed it to you, and although you were stunned for a second, you took it out from its carefully sealed envelope.

But it wasn’t just a letter, more than anything, it was a transcript. As the man who’d given you letter started to read the dutifully memorised prose he’d beautifully written himself.

You felt as if you knew him, despite not learning much about him other than his name, Rook, and his affections for you from his letter.

And unlike ever before, you’d felt so close to a ‘stranger’. A stranger, who would soon let you in on their biggest secret, as if it were their final gift to you. They were the one who’d been granting all your wishes, looking out for you from afar; since he’d fallen for you helplessly many moons ago. He had watched you, waiting for your wishes to align. You couldn’t even complain about not knowing, since he was in fact, everything you’d ever wished for.

So maybe in the end, the well wasn’t made to be magical, or perhaps it had known your real wish from the start - and granted you both what you desired in an unexpected manner.

Either way, you got your fairytale ending after all.

[historianroo]

how to create when you don't feel human enough for it

Some days–most days–it's hard to want to create when so much of the world feels against it.

So, in opposition to that, here are my list of things that I do to feel a little more human and get into a creative mindset.

Disclaimer: Not all of these will work for you, and all of these won't work for everyone.

It's a process to feel a little more grounded each day, so try out a few and see how it goes.

The List:

Brush your teeth, or take a shower, or do some sort of self-care thing that can help to ground you. It doesn't need to be a big thing–it could be as simple as washing your hands.

Change your clothes! You don't have to put on anything fancy–but put on something new. Even if it's just a new pair of pajamas or sweatpants.

Take 10 deep breaths–in for four out for six.

Change your setting. Move from your bedroom to the sitting room or the kitchen, or if you have the energy, go to a coffee shop or sit outside.

Turn off your phone or, if you can't turn it off, put your phone on silent. Keep it face down on the desk next to you.

Change the music you are listening too. If you've been listening to rock, try Jazz or Blues (I like Hugh Laurie specifically). If you've been listening to sad music, try some classical music (Villain Classical Music Playlists on Spotify are so fun).

If you can–just play the music outloud from your device, if you can't then use headphones.

Take breaks. I recommend every 30-45 minutes, get up and walk away from your computer or your set up. If you're at a coffee shop, get up and get a glass of water, or run to the bathroom and wash your hands.

If you are having trouble with the flow of your writing, write out beats for it–as simple as "this character goes here and says this" then "this character replies with this."

If you struggle with dialogue–try scripting your entire chapter first, just write who says what and what they say, and then turn that into a chapter (this is the way I'm writing my novel and it works so well for me).

Call a friend, or your mom, or your sibling–have some sort of human interaction that is lokey and low effort.

Jiggle your knee while sitting there–bounce it up and down, side to side, just do some sort of movement, it helps with concentration and can help with grounding (I'm doing it right now as I write this).

Sing a song! Hum along to your music!

Go for a little walk outside (weather permitting)–I walk to class most days, or at least walk up the street to buy a cup of coffee if I'm just staying in my flat all day.

Buy yourself a fun drink! Or make a fun drink! I personally love making whipped coffee which was a big trend a few years ago, the recipe is super easy:

Recipe: You'll need: Instant Coffee, Sugar, some sort of way to mix it aggressively (I use a electric coffee mixer, but you can use a fork or a hand mixer), hot water, and your choice milk. The Process: 1. Put two tablepoons of instant coffee, two tablespoons of sugar, and two tablespoons of hot water (I recommend like, almost-boiling water) in the bottom of your bowl/cup (whichever is easier to mix with). 2. Mix aggressively!!! You want it to be a light creamy color, and very fluffy! Or, at minimum, you want it to not have lumps, if you can't get it fluffy. ----Basically–this is espresso by the time you finish mixing. 3. Put it into your drinking cup, and fill the rest of the glass with milk–you can do any: oat, almond, plain, whole, chocolate (i feel like this would be yummy), etc. Optional: add ice! 4. I always add a fun color straw to it, it makes it more fun to drink! 5. enjoy!

Drink a big glass of water in one go–well, don't choke on it, but like, try to drink the whole thing without putting down the cup. Some times I find that if I put the cup down I don't actually want to finish it, so it's best to do it all in one go.

Listen to a power ballad. Something that gets you fired up and excited. Here's a list of my personal favorites:

"Dear Icarus" by Anna Miriam Brown "Free Fallin" by Tom Petty "I Won't Say I'm In Love" from Hercules "The Rider" by Paris Paloma "Now We Are Free" from Gladiator "Adiemus" by Karl Jenkins (Personal fav, and this is the guy that looked like he was wearing a costume at the coronation (there are a bunch of tweets about it, if you're curious, google "Karl Jenkins coronation tweet)). "Fire" by Katerina Gimon

Eat something!! Even if it's just toast–I love a good peice of toast with butter on it, it's low effort and yummy. If you want to make it fancier, extchange the butter for cream cheese–it's like a low effort bagel.

Cry–genuinely this makes me feel very human on days when I feel less than.

Stretch! Pop your back, roll your head around, loosen up your hands. It acts as a great moment to just center yourself.

And when you're done for the day, cuddle up and watch a movie or tv show. Something low brain energy (i love watching old disney moves from the 60s-90s), and put your phone down and away. Go to bed early, or at least go to bed before midnight, sometimes a good night of sleep can really help.

Send your writing to me. This isn't a requirement haha, but I'd love to read it!

I hope that some of these are helpful! If you have any suggestions for me to add–dm me or send an ask in! If you ever need music recommendations, ask!

I hope you can get back to creating, you're doing great and everything that you make is amazing and wonderful. Writing is a proces, it's not a sprint to the finish.

I wish you the absolute best! You've got this.

[delta-pavonis]

July Kinkfest Day 1

The Sandman || Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 559 words

Prompts: Begging | Degradation | “You have to tell me what you want.” (I'll call this inspired by all three prompts, but the first is the big one here.)

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hob gets to be dark (as a treat), D/s (if you squint), would be eventual D/s if I kept writing, Hob uses magic, what if dark!Hob is the one who captures Dream in 1916?, what if Dream is already thinking about planning for the events in The Kindly Ones?

Author's Notes: Eh, a day late. This went a completely different direction as I was writing it. Like, screeching tires change in direction. But I like it, despite it only being kinky if you squint. Don't worry, Day 2 will be kinky enough for both of the posts.

“Never.” His Stranger snarls, leaning forward to pull against the bindings on his wrists. The runes carved into the simple leather cuffs burn gold and the captive sinks back against the wall with a hiss.

“Never say never,” Hob sings, purposefully off-pitch and off-putting. “Over five-hundred years you have made a fool of me – no more, darling.” He shakes his head as he paces. “No more.”

Stars in the void-black eyes follow Hob back and forth, but he says no more. Pity, that. 

“You are the one who gave me this gift. You are the one who spurned my friendship. You are the one who will suffer the consequences.” Hob stops and turns to stand facing his Stranger. “This is, in no uncertain terms, your fault, my dear.”

The captive lifts his lip in a sneer and his rage radiates off of him in tangible waves. They crash up against the darkness seething out of Hob and create visible sparks. 

Hob takes a half-step towards the captive and his darkness expands, curling along the floorboards, seeking out their target. His power pushes against the aura around his Stranger, eating away at it, like acid. Those black-space eyes narrow at him.

Another half-step forward and more of his Stranger’s aura is degraded. It is a slow erosion, but he has time. Hob has nothing but time.

Another half-step. Then another. Successive constricting circles of power ring around his Stranger and Hob is honestly surprised it is this easy to trap an Endless.

Unless… 

Hob inches forward once more and inhales sharply. Now that he is feeling for it, it is obvious. 

It is Hob’s turn to snarl as he surges forward, closing the distance and grabbing his Stranger by the hair, pulling with enough force to snap his head back so that he has to look up at Hob from where he is forced to kneel. “You are letting this happen, Dream of the Endless!" He was hoping to extract that name from his Stranger by force, but his anger overwhelms his plans. "You allow my power to gnaw away at yours. Tell me what your game is!” 

They stare at each other, Hob panting with the physical exertion of maintaining his hard-won magicks. The panting means that Hob’s lips are already parted when Dream surges upwards and covers Hob’s mouth with his. 

For a moment Hob gives in, swaying into everything he has ever wanted, and then he stumbles backwards with a shout. “What the fuck?”

“Capture me.” Now Dream is panting, body trembling with emotion. “I don’t want this any more. I can give you the power.” He strains against the cuffs again, tilting all of himself towards Hob, and while the runes light up once more, Dream does not hiss in pain. “The ruby around my neck. Take it. I will show you how to master its power. I will show you how to use it to master me.” 

Hob has no idea how long he watches with wide, unbelieving eyes as his Stranger tries desperately to get across the floor to him. 

Eventually even the Endless sags down, arms held limply aloft by the cuffs chained to the wall. The sound Dream lets out is something Hob absolutely refuses to believe is a sob. 

Except then Dream, his Stranger, whispers, “Please, Hob. Please take me away.”

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2024: 38 songs, first impressions

Wake up, bitches, it's that time of the year again.

No, not Christmas. It's Eurovision time, aka the time when we can verbally destroy each other and call our neighbors "filthy traitors", but in the end we would still be united against the real enemy: the jury.

As we all know, last year Sweden won but Finland caught the Snitch or, to put it simply, Finland won our hearts, but since the newly crowned King of Europe Käärijä was too busy being majestic and Finland was too busy being precious, Sweden graciously offered to host the competition for its neighbor.

Yes, this is what happened. No, you don't remember something different.

And yes, I ultimately decided to follow this year's competition. As someone said in some old post, Eurovision is a bit like that toxic relationship you can't escape from. And maybe you don't really want to escape from it.

So, since we're trapped in this hellhole, at least let's enjoy our time together with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a sprinkle of wholesomeness. Eurovision might have flaws, but nothing is perfect in this world after all.

As per every year, I always do my first listening while doing my chores, so the songs are in the background and I have no idea who sings what or from what country they're from. I just let them flow and see if something gets my attention.

And this year a lot of them did! I couldn't identify a clear winner, but I found a ton of small, beautiful gems everywhere. Oh, this year seems very, very promising.

As always, this is my first listening: many more will follow and my opinions may drastically change. So please, don't take my comments too seriously: this is all for fun.

__________

ALBANIA

Pretty nice song and pretty nice rhythm, I really like it.

But also... I've been to Tirana in January and I've listened to the songs they have there. And even if this one is very good, I would've loved more true Albanian rhythm.

Still, this will probably end in my personal playlist, so that's a plus for me.

Vote: A Titan in disguise? *Greek mythology intensifies* *Cronus intensifies*

__________

ARMENIA

We all stan a song in Armenian and if you don't, you will start doing now because yes, we have Armenian and yes, it sounds great.

So let's all thank Armenia for bringing its beautiful language - along with some nice Balkan rhythm that kept slapping me in the face.

But you know me, I'm a simple Mediterranean: I hear Balkan rhythm, I love it.

Vote: I will always be a slut for Balkan rhythms

__________

AUSTRIA

If Armenia slapped me with Balkan rhythm, Austria bitchslapped me with the whole 1990 decade.

But you know me, I am a simple Millennial: I listen to something that seems to come straight from the 90s, I dance.

Vote: We! Will! Rave!

__________

AUSTRALIA

This was... good. Just good. And the singer is good too. Maybe even too good.

Sigh, Australia forgot again that this is Eurovision. Please, someone, remind them this is the show of fire, sparkles and insanity.

Vote: "What ya gonna do in the real world?" Easy, WE! WILL! RAVE!

__________

AZERBAIJAN

Luckily Azerbaijan remembered that hey, they're the country that delivers good stuff! They should bring a good song!

And so they did and delivered us a good song, with good verses and a wonderful chorus in Azerbaijani.

The only problem is that the chorus is much better than the verses and if the song was entirely in Azerbaijani, it would've been a banger. Unfortunately, it's just good.

Vote: great job, Azerbaijan. Next time, ditch English entirely

__________

BELGIUM

"Are you still playing the game?" If you mean The Game, I think we all lost it.

Vote: +1 for the power move of making everyone lose The Game

__________

CROATIA

As soon as I started listening to it, I was assaulted by a sick rhythm. Then by a guy who tells me he's a big boy. Then by his anxiety. Then by more sick rhythm.

Then by what is probably the greatest line ever said in the history of music:

One last thing: the singer's name is Baby Lasagna. Baby Lasagna. He's speaking to my Italian heart and, even more importantly, to my Italian stomach.

And you know me, I'm a simple Italian: food is mentioned, I vibe.

Vote: my cats will vote for him

__________

CYPRUS

Oh no, please help this young lady! She forgot she's from Cyprus and she should send sick bops in Greek!

Vote: it's not a bad song at all. It's just not Cyprus-worthy

__________

CZECHIA

Oh, sorry, I didn't know this was a therapy session. I'll wait in the hall.

Vote: it's not bad, it's just... nope

__________

DENMARK

After a lot of disappointing years, finally Denmark brought a great song! The singer is good, the rhythm is good and it deserves a place in the final.

Vote: it's not in Danish, but we can't have everything

__________

ESTONIA

This song is an instant favorite. Native language, sick rhythm, adorable weirdos, all in one package.

And let me repeat that: Estonian! Beautiful Estonian language! It was such a wonderful surprise to listen to it! I literally stopped what I was doing and perked my ears because mmmh, it sounds like Finnish, but it's not exactly Finnish... what's that? And it was Estonian.

I am in love <3

Vote: pure Moldovian spirit in Estonia? I approve.

__________

FINLAND

So, let's recap:

we have a singer named Windows95man.

He wears a blurred Windows logo and no pants.

He comes out from an egg made of jeans.

The other singer isn't always in tune and he's dressed in pieces of jeans that make him look like a paperman.

He has the balls to ask if there's anything wrong with how he dresses.

The song screams of the 90s.

And then, during the performance, a pair of shorts literally fell from the sky.

With fire.

If that's not pure Eurovision, I don't know what it is.

(And before you ask: of course they cannot use Finnish, only Käärijä can and only the next Käärijä will be allowed to use it.)

Vote: Even if Finland sent the worst, most boring singer ever, for this year I would've given it a free pass. But Finns are such bosses, they decided to send this. Respect only

__________

FRANCE

And here on the right, you can see the French Frenching harder than ever.

Vote: a song named "Mon Amour". Seriously. Seriously. What will be the next one about? La Tour Eiffel? Oh wait, you already did that

__________

GERMANY

I'm mad because I already know this song will get zero points just because "iT's GeRmAnY", even if it's actually good.

Vote: thank you Germany for still sending good songs. You deserve more

__________

GEORGIA

You're "rising from the ashes like a phoenix"? Well, now I remember Conchita Wurst with Rise like a phoenix, which is way way WAY better than this song.

And since Conchita is Austrian, I also remembered the memo we got this year, which is one and one only: WE! WILL! RAVE!

Vote: more rave, less this

__________

GREECE

What? What? What do my ears hear? Greek rhythm? Greek language? And it comes together with a more modern vibe?

See, Greece? SEE? This is how you do things well. This is how you choose a good singer to represent your country. Thank you, Greece, for finally picking someone competent and not the umpteenth child.

Vote: finally, a song Greece-worthy

__________

ICELAND

I don't know why, but this song reminds me of another, more famous song. Can't exactly pinpoint which one, but it's way too familiar and I don't like it.

Vote: as soon as it was over, I forgot it

__________

IRELAND

And here on the left, you can see Ireland coming back to their roots, aka the most insane, batshit crazy stuff they have, stuff that will make you question what the heck happens on that island and if everyone's okay.

Vote: not a favorite, but it's definitely something I've never heard before. So that's a plus

__________

ISRAEL

I still have no idea why Israel is here, but I suppose that some have a free pass for killing innocents.

The singer isn't bad either, but the rhythm keeps reminding me of another, more famous song. Just like Iceland, I don't remember exactly which one, except that the famous one was better.

Vote: you shouldn't even be here

__________

ITALY

I already made a post commenting the Italian songs from this year and told a couple things about Angelina Mango and this song's meaning.

Here I can only reconfirm that this song is still a huge bop, the southern rhythm is still my Roman Empire and we may still have some chances of winning this year's Eurovision.

Vote: her southern accent my beloved

__________

LATVIA

The rhythm isn't so bad, but it's just so. Very. Forgettable.

But hey, I suppose it's good for re-listening, because I listened to it twice and both times it was like listening to it for the first time.

I didn't like it both times, but that's a detail.

Vote: just as forgettable as the Icelandic one

__________

LITHUANIA

You know, I respect Lithuania. Their songs are not my favorite, but they keep using their own beautiful language. Hence why, they deserve a place in the final.

Vote: keep showing us the beautiful Lithuanian language, I believe that one day I will find I song I like

__________

LUXEMBOURG

Do you know what I feared the most this year? That Luxembourg came back after 30 years and the song was shit. That they showed us something stale and boring.

But Luxembourg stepped in like the queen of the party and said: "Please, hold both my French and my English, because I can and I will drop something sick". And so they did.

Amazing rhythm, amazing singer, amazing return.

Vote: Luxembourg is back and wants to win

__________

MALTA

Malta is my personal Sweden. Even when they send a song I don't really like (like this one), it's just weak. I don't remember a song coming from them that I considered truly "bad".

I don't know what kind of sorcery Malta does, but it works on me every year.

Vote: Malta has too much power on me

__________

MOLDOVA

Don't worry, Moldova: you can't always be the best every year. You deserve to relax once in a while and this year you've been covered by a lot of other countries.

Vote: it's not the huge bop you would expect from Moldova, but that's okay. I'll let it pass, because Moldova always does great things for Eurovision

__________

THE NETHERLANDS

This song has a lot of amazing things.

First, the language: thank God, the Netherlands are still sending songs in their native language as it should be. It's beautiful to listen to it and I love to hear words that kinda remind me of both German and English.

Second: despite what it seems, this song isn't a satire/parody of Europe. On the contrary, it's a celebration of how open Europe is and how easy it is to travel without borders.

And it may seem normal for us because we're used to it now, but I visited Albania this January and there were a shit ton of controls and checks to do. While last time I went to Greece, all I had to do was walk down a corridor, show my ID card and everything was fine. The open borders truly are a victory for everyone who likes to travel - and a sign of how much better Europe is. So a song celebrating them is very much appreciated.

Third: the song isn't just about open borders! It's about a man remembering his parents, about how much he still misses them. And it's about his victory. In the end, he's literally telling them: look, dad and mom, I finally made it to Eurovision.

And these soft, wholesome things always get me in my cold heart <3

Vote: top of the final chart, no questions

__________

NORWAY

Let's all thank Norway for bringing the folk theme, along with their beautiful language.

I don't know what happened this year, but we are blessed by so many beautiful languages it truly seems like Eurovision and not Englishvision.

Vote: a bit too many screams, but I appreciate the enthusiasm of speaking in your native language

__________

POLAND

Poland learned from last year and instead of bringing another ball of nothing, they brought a song more fitting for their vibes.

It's in English tho, and that's very sad because Polish is a nice language. But at least the singer is good and in tune.

Vote: She built the tower. If it's the one from Stephen King's series, then we should have a chat

__________

PORTUGAL

Portugal did a miracle last year, by bringing a song I actually liked. So in order to be coherent, this year they brought another boring, forgettable song.

Vote: nothing good lasts forever

__________

SAN MARINO

Don't worry, people, San Marino will bring all the party vibes we need. It will take them some time to come, because they took a detour to Spain, but the vibes are still great.

Vote: maybe this year they won't be the usual traitors and give us 12 points

__________

SERBIA

Serbian lyrics? Yes, please!

And even if this song has some ballad vibes, it's not the umpteenth boring ballad. It's a very nice, soft song and the singer's voice is good too.

Vote: great job, Serbia

__________

SLOVENIA

A song in Slovenian? We stan! We all stan!

I'm not sure I like the "rrruaph!" sound, but the use of a native language and the dark vibes are very appreciated.

Vote: all these countries are spoiling us with their beautiful languages and I'm here for it

__________

SPAIN

Spain rarely disappoints and once again they proved it: instead of bringing the umpteenth young gal, this year they chose a more mature singer and not only she has a wonderful angelic voice, but she sings in sexy Spanish and her song is perfect dance material.

Vote: We're all zorras

__________

SWEDEN

Since Sweden refuses to bring something else besides the same generic pop music in English, I want to start a new trend: the Swedish Suggestion Box. Here we can all suggest much more interesting Swedish songs (or artists!). There's only one rule: they shouldn't be boring, nor generic stuff you can hear on the radio 24/7.

This year, I would like to suggest Nanne Grönvall: she's a pop singer, but she mostly sings in Swedish. I particularly recommend the songs Håll om mig, Den Vilda, and Vi är dom tuffaste.

If you have other Swedish artists or songs worthy of attention, please recommend them in the comments/reblogs! Even if the songs are in English, they're still fine! As I said, the only rule is that it shouldn't be generic and boring.

And I know Sweeden can do better than generic and boring.

Vote: Suggestions are open!

__________

SWITZERLAND

Switzerland is my second Sweden: even if other people might hate the songs it brings, I've rarely hated something coming from it. And if I did, it was with fiery passion. Yes, I'm looking at you, devastatingly boring 2022's entry.

So I'm very happy that this year we can all agree this is a great song, because wow. WOW. Mixing electropop with opera singing made something truly amazing to listen to and I can't wait to see if the singer manages to do it live. If he can, it will be magnificent.

Vote: fine, Switzerland, I'll forgive you for the 2022's entry. But only if you keep sending amazing stuff like this

__________

UKRAINE

Ukraine = quality and no one can deny it. I'm not a huge fan of this mix rap/Ukrainian rhythm they have been brought in these last years, but as long as I can listen to some nice Ukrainian language and some new vibes, I am all for it.

Vote: thank you, Ukraine, for always bringing amazing stuff

__________

UNITED KINGDOM

And here it is: the only country (with Ireland) that is legally allowed to use English in a song. Even if I dream that, one day, the UK will send a song in French and blow up the entirety of Europe.

The song per se isn't bad: very 90s' vibes, very dancey. But if I have to choose something with 90s vibes, I prefer the rave.

Vote: not bad UK, but could be better

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

❤️‍🩹 Intro Interview with Lena Gildersyn ❤️‍🩹

I wasn't specifically tagged in this, but I saw an open tag and went for it since I thought the questions better fit with Lena, who would be Garrick's love interest in the story. She's the most naive of the 4, and yet she brings more wisdom and sensibleness than all of them. The sweetest <3

thank you, @cherrybombfangirlwrites, for the questions!

Interviewer: Today, we're delighted to have Lena Gildersyn with us. Lena is the group's emotional anchor, a role she's taken to with both skill and compassion. As she enters the room, there's a certain gentle grace about her. Lena is a petite woman with a fair complexion that seems to almost glow with a natural light. Her hair is soft and wavy and falls around her shoulders in loose curls. She often adds flowers or herbs she's picked throughout the day. Her eyes, a warm shade of hazel, have a kind, slightly timid sparkle, and there's a hint of shyness in her smile.

As she sits down, her movements are careful and deliberate, as if she's always aware of the fragility of the world around her. She clasps her hands in her lap, fingers entwined, and when she speaks, there's a noticeable stutter, especially when she's nervous. Her voice is soft and lilting, with a cadence that suggests she’s choosing her words with great care. Even though she's shy, there's a quiet strength in her demeanor that speaks to the trials she's faced and overcomes.

Lena regularly fidgets with her hands, twisting a strand of hair or fiddling with a piece of fabric. These small movements bring her comfort. She occasionally bites her lower lip when she's deep in thought, and her eyes dart away when feeling particularly shy or unsure. Yet, when she talks about her passion for healing or mentions someone she cares about, a noticeable brightness lights up her face. A simple dress with embroidered flowers along the hem and a necklace with a tiny pendant of a healing herb are some practical details in Lena's outfit. There's an aura of warmth and care about her, making it easy to see why she is such a beloved group member.

Interviewer: Lena, it's wonderful to have you here. Can you tell us a little about your favorite book or story?

Lena: T-thank you. I-I love the story of the Willow Maiden. It's a t-tale my mother used to tell me. The Willow Maiden was a gentle spirit who h-healed the forest and its creatures. Despite facing many challenges and d-dangers, she remained kind and true to her nature. It always r-reminded me of the power of compassion and resilience.

Interviewer: That's a beautiful story. If you could change one aspect of your appearance, what would it be?

Lena: "Oh, um, I-I think I'd like to change my hair. It's very f-fine and often gets tangled easily. I'd love to have thick, manageable hair like Adisa's. It’s an s-small thing, but sometimes little changes can make a big d-difference in how you feel about yourself."

Interviewer: You have a perfect day all to yourself! Describe what that would look like.

Lena: "A perfect day? Oh, w-well, it would start with a peaceful morning in the f-forest, gathering herbs and listening to the b-birds sing. I’d spend the afternoon in my garden, tending to my plants and m-maybe reading a bit under the shade of an old oak tree. In the evening, I’d make a small f-feast with fresh vegetables and herbs and enjoy it while watching the s-sunset. Ending the day with a quiet night of stargazing and reflecting on the beauty of nature would be p-perfect."

Interviewer: That sounds lovely. Now, I have to ask, what's your opinion of Rick?

Lena: "R-Rick? Oh, um, he’s… h-he’s exceedingly kind and b-brave. He’s always there to p-protect us, and I admire his l-loyalty to Adisa, or Kirjani. He… uh, he also has a gentle side, you know? Especially when he's helping with the healing. I-I've seen him, uh, being incredibly careful and tender with the herbs. It’s… um, it’s very sweet to see someone so strong being so g-gentle."

Interviewer: "It sounds like you might have a bit of a soft spot for him."

Lena: (blushing deeply) "Oh, well, I… I do think he's w-wonderful. His presence is… comforting. When he smiles, it's like a warm s-sunbeam. And, um, I… I feel safe when he's around. It's not just his strength, but… the way he looks at you, like he's really listening and he c-cares. I… I think about him a lot, actually. Sometimes, when I'm alone, I… I wonder what it would be like to… to spend more time with him, to… to really get to know him."

Interviewer: "It sounds like there's more than just admiration there…?"

Lena: (looking away shyly, a small smile on her lips) "Maybe… maybe there is. He's… he's special to me, in a way I can't quite explain. And I… I hope he feels the same way."

Interviewer: Do you have a favorite book or a story that you enjoy?

Lena: I-I do. There's a book called 'The Willow Maiden.' It's about a warrior who goes on a journey to find a rare gemstone that can save her homeland. Along the way, she meets many p-people and learns about fearlessness, emotion, and the importance of never giving up. It’s a captivating story that always gives me hope.

Interviewer: That sounds intriguing, I'll have to read it sometime soon! Anyway, if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Lena: "Um, I-I think I’d like to be more c-confident. Sometimes I let my fears and doubts hold me back. I wish I could be b-braver, like Adisa. She’s so strong and determined. I want to be like that too."

Interviewer: You have a day all to yourself. How would you spend it?

Lena: Oh, a perfect day… I-I think I’d start with a walk in the forest, gathering herbs and listening to the birds sing. I’d spend the afternoon in my garden, tending to my plants and reading under the shade of an old oak tree. In the evening, I’d make a small feast with fresh vegetables and herbs and enjoy it while watching the sunset. Ending the day with a quiet night of stargazing and reflecting on the beauty of nature would be perfect.

Interviewer: Thank you for taking the time to sit with us and chat. I wish you nothing but the best for the rest of your journey!

Lena: Th-that's sweet of you, I'm happy to h-help!

[meowww-ffxiv]

Liios was a bard with dragoon trailing behind by a few levels during ARR. Those were arguably the happiest he'd been for decades, those two years were. He'd never figured himself to be someone with musical talent or gods forbid, creative in the arts. But he was! He even wrote a few short tunes and songs.

And then the Bloody Banquet came and went. Liios threw out everything that'd brought him joy and even cast aside the bow, opting to go back to his machines and other, more powerful tools of war. He hadn't played music of any sort since then.

Estinien, however, remembered Liios's voice. It used to flow through the Coerthan woods, soft but persistent melodies that would cause dragons to wander out in curiosity -- and so made them easy prey for Estinien, of course. It used to wrap itself around him, a protective flow of both sound and aether, buoying him through the worst of Nidhogg's eye's rancor.

He hadn't bothered to ask, but he figured that even back then, Liios knew that Eye to be a terrible relic. After ascertaining that Estinien was "fairly harmless", he'd gone hunting in the Coerthan wilds quite often, hovering close but always out of sight, and his singing would drift down to Estinien across the distance. So Estinien was fairly sure that Liios was actively tracking him all that time.

Nowadays, after everything...

Estinien commissioned a harp. It was small and quite simple, with its main selling point being that it was sturdy. The strings were also made of metal and not hide, and treated with some kind of Thavnairian sorcerous alchemy that made them immune from moisture problems Estinien had been informed might otherwise affect its performance.

He gave it to Liios before leaving Thavnair for Tural.

And he found it among Liios's belongings still, when he visited him in Tural. It was in an oiled bag along with some half-finished sheet music on new papers.

[byullielle]

Hanji Day!! // Han Jisung x Gn!Reader

—my precious han jisung, i love him so much and i hope that even if he doesn't know me personally he still feels my love through the powers of the universe. you deserve the world my han quokka.

tags: birthday fic! wholesome loving, established relationship, fluff!, kisses! all the kisses for han jisung!, short and sweet

Rated: Happiest Birthday to my Rockstar!

You nervously shake your leg as the guitar sits next to you, waiting for your boyfriend to move along and hurry up from whatever he was going. Han Jisung wasn't one to grandly celebrate his birthdays but you still wanted to make every single one with him count to the most of your abilities. And for this one? You pestered Chan and Changbin to (quickly) teach you how to play the guitar in order for you to play a simple song for him. Better Together by Us The Duo was the choice because it was fairly easy but the nervousness bit on your mind heavily.

Of course, you got him a little bit more than that, just in case the singing and playing backfired. He recently had been eyeing a pair of shoes and due to his busy schedule he hasn't gotten to buying them yet and you had to do everything in your power to fight against Jeongin who was planning to gift them to Han himself.

It was a battle well-won.

Nobody messes with your affections towards Han Jisung, even if it meant death (refusing Jeongin's puppy dog eyes and instead resorting to nearly biting you off).

"Okay, I'm ready," Jisung walks in as you jolt up in shock. "Oh!" you clear your throat and shakily take the guitar. You were confident in your singing voice, and after being heavily monitored by Chan and Changbin was quite alright to go but come on, it was Han Jisung. The man who has written more songs than school essays.

"I-If you somehow don't like it, please make me stop immediately,"

His hand immediately goes up to his chest, mouth gaping in shock, no sound coming from his lips. You take another deep breath and close your eyes, before doing a strum down, "There's no combination of words I could put on the back of a postcard," you start singing, "The song that I can sing but I can try for your heart," you then pluck the nickel string.

"Our dreams, they're made out of real things," you gently hit the back of your palm against the body of the guitar before starting to strum with your fingers affixed to a single chord, "Like a shoebox of photographs of sepia tone loving," you keep your focus on the strings, unable to look at Han as he has his hands places politely on his lap, fingers tapping along.

"Love is the answer at least, for most of the questions in my heart," a change of chords then a strum, "Like, "Why are we here?" and, "Where do we go?" And, "How come it's so hard?"" another hit on the upper bout.

You stop the strumming for a while, taking this moment to look up at his direction, "It's not always easy and sometimes life can be deceiving," your eyes soften at the absolutely mind-blown look on his eyes, "I'll tell you one thing it's always better when we're together," you bring back your hand on the fretboard, starting to strum along constantly changing chords.

"Mmm, it's always better when we're together," you sing along the strumming softly before ending it on a simple C-chord strum, "Yeah, we'll look at the stars when we're together,"

You stop and then set the guitar aside gingerly. The moment it's off your body you could feel Jisung suddenly tackle you into a fullbody hug, both your bodies landing on the couch. A laugh escapes you before you pat his back, the weight of his body comforting against yours, "Happy birthday, sorry if that wasn't the best,"

"No no, it was perfect," he sniffles before you pull off in worry only to see him absolutely elevated with tears running down his face, he leans down and presses a shallow yet reverent kiss on your lips. "Thank you. Thank you so much baby," he whispers against your lips before pressing another kiss on your lips, "You did great. This is the best birthday gift ever,"

"Well...I also got you some shoes," you chuckle, anxiety dissipating from your shoulders before pulling him for a hug, his body still atop yours. "Happy birthday, I love you,"

"I love you too, the shoes could wait, you're amazing baby,"

"Not as much as you," you chuckle upon feeling him pinch your side.