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smiletimeisrunningout · 14 hours ago

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Ben's words and expression reminded Emma of the way he spoke of his youth, of his lack of experience with women, how he believed himself to be not quite the looker as a boy. He clearly didn't enjoy being easily embarrassed now, especially when it came to bedding people, and she knew as a man he'd hardly find people encouraging that side of him. It was so silly, to think of how they were encouraged to act like they had no weaknesses, and she may have felt the same about the matter, had she not been raised by a man like her father.

"Make no mistake, I would not want you to be any different," she decided to say then, bringing a hand to his cheek and cupping it gently, "Even the parts of you I can't read because I'm all sorts of confused by my own feelings. If you'll ever choose to come home with me, you'll be welcomed to spend your days reading to kids and looking for new poems and books. You'll never have to be calm and collected unless you wish to be."

Although there was something funny about thinking of Ben living the life of retirement and lazy days that she had planned for her hypothetical future old husband, and instead of that happening because she only needed a husband to have her throne it would be because she had a husband she liked.

"Or you could do whatever you want, I'm making it sound like I'm going to... hold you hostage like some sort of beauty in the tower." God, she had almost said 'marry you'. So much for going as slow as possible. "I just meant to say that I don't want you to change one bit for me, I like you the way you are. Besides the part where you grow double the patience you have now, so you can withstand my moods."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad, I would love for you to show me and prove me wrong."

"The side of my bed has a few canvas, you have my permission to check because they are landscapes and, unlike faces, they actually look decent," she offered, adjusting her position on the bed; it hurt, again, and Emma wondered how long it would take before she'd be able to just kiss him as much as she'd like. He was so interested, and so damn kissable. "The next time I'm not dying and we can go out, we'll find a place where I can sing, then. I doubt the rest of your army would be keen. They have more important things to deal with... you don't, anymore, because you have chosen to court me and you must act accordingly," she teased, giving his cheek a light tap.

"I'll finally convince you that books aren't so bad -- or at the very least, listening along to a good story?"

"See, the compromise is right there: you read a book you like, you tell me about it. Much better if you want me to pay attention from beginning to end. Plus, it won't harm me like reading. The headaches just aren't worth it, when I can be told the story." She was surprised whenever she met people who were so dedicated to books; her father loved reading, but he didn't have enough time to do so, so she figured he didn't have to battle with the inevitable headaches as much, but August and Ben? Masochists.

I'm not so sure I can reciprocate, but that's because I only tend to fall into bed with those I...w-well, I prefer meaning to my dalliances-" "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, smiling in reassurance. "-And clearly, I hadn't found that before you, since you were...y-you were my... My first."

"No, I know that, and that's lovely, really. I would never expect you to drop your values for me," she assured him, "There is nothing wrong with you waiting, you know that. In fact, you should be proud: you did it the way you wanted, when you wanted, and not because you felt you had to. That takes guts. I may not share the... uh... philosophy behind it, but I will defend it until the end of days." Though it was still odd to her that he hadn't been taken aback by her history. "I don't... I think I don't really kiss much, if there is no feeling behind it? Even if, in my case, generally the feeling was friendship, I suppose to me it's kissing that required some meaning. It feels so intimate. Like holding hands."

She took his hand, not just to make a point but to feel just how natural it was. She may lay with a stranger, but she certainly would not hold hands with him.

"In fact, I've been told I'm rather hotheaded, and despite my father's valiant efforts, I'm not the best with sharing, either. Not that I intend to."

Her gasp was far too intrigued, "You are jealous?" she asked in delight, "Oh, that sounds fun. We have to revisit that once I have healed enough... Naturally, you know you don't need to worry about me looking at other men, I find the thought of cheating repulsive." That and when she had met Selah Strong in passing and had properly ogled him, she had almost died on the spot after Caleb had explained he was married to their friend Anna. Her horror at having looked at the man for too long had even entertained James, who had apparently expected her 'not to care' on account of her being 'so carefree', which he had not meant as an insult, but had horrified her even more. No, taken men were off-limits, and so was she as a taken woman. "But if you wish to deck someone because they cross a line with me or something of the sort, please make sure I'm there."

"Perhaps my fear made you appear more... calm and collected about the whole ordeal than you actually were," she suggested, which wasn't an unfair assumption. "I do hope I'll get to see that... gollumpus you speak of. He seems just my type."

Benjamin grinned, his eyes shining self-consciously. "Trust me: no one has ever called me calm and collected, and least especially when it comes to protecting those I love. But if my gollumpus side is the one you're yearning for, I just might have some competition on my hands."

All the naked things?

Yet again, Benjamin felt a damnable spread of heat searing across his face as he laughed, darting his eyes in between her face and the ground. He wasn't sure why after all this time he was still shy at such talk -- especially since she'd never exactly been withholding when it came to her candidness -- but with a shake of his head, he softly reassured, "No, I...w-well, according to Caleb, I'm very much like an open book. If I like someone, or dislike them, it's plain as day... But apparently not to those who truly matter."

Emma was quick to dismiss any artistic pursuits. Despite her typical self-deprecation (something that he, himself, tended to mirror in his own behavior), Benjamin found himself laughing at the idea. "Oh, come on, it can't be that bad," he said. "I would love for you to show me and prove me wrong."

When she brought up singing, he perked up. "I've heard you were fond of it," he allowed, "but I've never actually been privy to a concert. I was always out and about, or busying myself with papers, and...other tasks."

It occurred to him then that Emma wasn't wholly privy to the ring. Perhaps he should tell her someday, he thought, if she wished to be given the ultimate sign of his trust and admiration.

Seemingly oblivious to his inner conflict, Emma continued, "Considering that, it's odd that I miss painting. But I... like the idea of doing that while you read... doing that sort of thing together, as in sharing a room. Or tent, in this case."

"I like that too," Benjamin softly reassured. "And maybe one day, one day, I'll finally convince you that books aren't so bad -- or at the very least, listening along to a good story?"

Emma appeared rather embarrassed, but before he could ask what he'd done, she was quick to turn around and embarrass him. "I assure you," she coyly said, "had you been inclined, I would have taken you to bed long before knowing you as a person. Just because of your looks. Multiple women being interested in you is not out of the realm of possibilities."

"I...thank you?" Benjamin stammered, his brows scrunching with a self-conscious chuckle. "I'm not so sure I can reciprocate, but that's because I only tend to fall into bed with those I...w-well, I prefer meaning to my dalliances. And clearly, I hadn't found that before you, since you were...y-you were my..." Awkwardly, he waved a hand before shyly concluding, "My first."

Emma rattled off all the ways other women could be jealous -- the idea seemed absurd to him, if he was being honest -- yet she was quick to denounce such thoughts. "That sounds horrible," she decided. "I hope my status will scare them away. You are lucky no one has tried to woo me here so you don't need to witness it, but I'll have to prepare so I can have a proper ladylike reaction, it's not as if I can fight them, they are ladies."

Benjamin scoffed. "You are lucky for that, too," he challenged. "I confess, I've never had to keep menfolk away from a woman, but I do know I'm not much for jealousy. In fact, I've been told I'm rather hotheaded, and despite my father's valiant efforts, I'm not the best with sharing, either. Not that I intend to." He flashed a lopsided smile. "I'll share your time here and there, but anything else risks that gollumpus we talked about coming into play."

#I have come back. 4 days late with a reply for YOU #I'm laughing at the thought of Ben using the jealously excuse to hit Bradford who is not even hitting on Emma tho #like YES we want that pettiness #Emma would be so into it too. Emma is here to encourage all the pettiness and 'acting your age' behavior #(also a reminder that she's near-sighted and doesn't know because she thinks everybody gets headaches from reading blurry books lol)#a calming calamity #honorhearted

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spaceman-earthgirl · 2 days ago

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they say time heals all wounds

Agatha wants to see Rio. Which is a drastic change from wanting to kill her a few days ago, but here she is.

She’s spent the last few hundred years avoiding Rio, hating her, but she doesn’t quite hate her anymore.

Agatha’s not quite sure how she knows, but she can feel Rio somehow, knows exactly where she is.

One moment she’s thinking about her and then next minute Rio is there. She’s standing on the side of the road, watching a car crash, watching as people panic and even Agatha can tell it doesn’t look good.

Agatha knows Rio is waiting, knows it’s someone’s time.

Agatha floats towards Rio, and then when she realises she hasn’t been noticed she has a fun idea.

“Boo!”

Agatha relishes in the way Rio jumps, the way Rio’s glare in her direction turns to surprise when she realises Agatha shouldn’t be here.

“You’re a ghost.”

“I know,” Agatha laughs. She does a spin in the air. She was upset in the beginning but she’s been having fun.

“I hate ghosts.”

Agatha grins this time. “I know.”

Rio rolls her eyes, turning back to the scene in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Billy was sleeping and I was bored. And I wanted to see you,” Agatha adds after a moment.

The myriad of emotions that flicker across Rio’s face are entertaining. Rio has always been easy to read, and Agatha sees it all now. The surprise that she’s with Billy, which turns into a knowing look, like she knew Agatha would end up with him. Then the surprise and confusion that Agatha wanted to see her.

Agatha can see that Rio doesn’t quite trust her words, doesn’t quite believe she really is here to see her. Like Agatha has some hidden agenda, like she’s up to something.

Which with her track record is a fair assumption.

But not this time.

Rio picks one part of Agatha’s words to focus on, the part she already knows about.

The easy part.

“You’re still with Billy?”

“We’re a coven, aren’t we? No witch left behind, or whatever it is.”

Rio laughs, her eyes lighter than Agatha has seen in a long time. Something cracks in her chest, something she’s going to ignore.

“So, what’s going on there?” Agatha asks, nodding to the accident in front of them.

It’s an obvious ploy to change the subject, but Rio lets her.

“There’s an old man, he lost control while driving. He’s not going to make it despite the paramedic’s best efforts.”

Agatha sees it, the moment the man dies, his ghost appearing. She’s never seen this part before.

Rio nods towards the scene. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“Have fun with Grandpa.”

Rio rolls her eyes but salutes.

Agatha hasn’t felt like this in a long time.

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut

—

Agatha knows exactly where Rio is the next time she tries to find her too.

Rio jumps again when Agatha appears next to her, and this time there’s only a glare that Rio sends her way.

“Don’t do that.”

“You’re surprised there’s a ghost in a cemetery?”

Rio shoots her another look. At least that hasn’t changed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a girl visit Death from time to time without an explanation?”

“You never do anything without thinking it through,” Rio points out, which also hasn’t changed. Rio knows her, always sees through whatever she is doing.

“Well, I’m a ghost, isn’t this where I belong now?”

Rio rolls her eyes, amusement clear in her look.

“You do make a very attractive ghost, by the way. This is a good look on you,” Rio says, waving her hand, indicating Agatha’s whole body.

Agatha flushes from head to toe, or at least she would if she could flush. It still makes her feel warm.

“What can I say,” she says, flourishing her hands. “I can make anything work.”

Rio goes to shove Agatha, realising last minute that she can’t, that Agatha is a ghost. She doesn’t stop her hands fast enough though, and to the surprise of them both, instead of Rio’s hands going straight through her, her hands make contact and Agatha is jostled to the side.

“What the hell?” Rio asks, looking down at her hands.

“I don’t know, that’s your department,” Agatha says, righting herself, just as surprised as Rio is. She’s touched things before as a ghost, but it takes a lot of concentration and is only for a short period of time. She wasn’t even thinking about it this time.

Rio pokes her arm, hard.

“Ow,” Agatha says, annoyed as she rubs her arm. “What was that for?”

Rio is frowning. “Just…checking.”

Rio’s hand returns to the spot she’d poked, but this time her hand soothes over the spot.

Agatha can feel it, the touch solid and warm.

“Well,” Rio says, eyebrow quirking. “That’s interesting.”

Agatha shakes off her hand, both the look and touch too much. “Yeah, well, just because you can, it doesn’t mean you can touch me.”

Rio holds up her hands in surrender, and Agatha suddenly wants them back on her. She’s missed Rio’s touch.

“Billy found his brother,” Agatha says, changing the subject.

Again, Rio lets her. “Don’t tell me that, you know they shouldn’t exist.”

“You won’t hurt them,” Agatha says.

Rio softens. “No, I won’t.”

She knows Rio won’t. She knows Rio would never do anything to hurt her. Not again.

She can see how much she’s hurt Rio too, and it’s suddenly too much again.

But Agatha can’t help it, she’s the one that reaches out this time, feels solid skin as her finger caresses Rio’s jaw.

“Until next time,” Agatha says, vanishing before Rio can say anything.

—

Agatha finds Rio people watching.

The street is crowded: people walking, people driving, people stopping in to look at shops or sitting outside crowded cafes and restaurants.

“Is someone going to die?” Agatha asks by way of greeting. She almost hopes the answer is yes. She misses watching Rio work.

Rio doesn’t look Agatha’s way, but she doesn’t miss the way Rio’s shoulders relax slightly with Agatha by her side.

“Not here,” Rio answers.

They stand in silence, just watching. Agatha isn’t sure what Rio is seeing but it’s kind of nice, the bustling crowd. It makes her forget for a moment that she’s not a part of the world any more.

But then Agatha gets bored, and what’s a bored ghost to do if not annoy others?

She sticks her foot out, making it solid, tripping the next person who walks by. It’s a young man and he stumbles, but unfortunately manages to right himself without actually falling over.

Agatha purses her lips. “Damn.”

Rio is trying not to smile when Agatha glances her way.

Ok, so maybe she was just doing it to get a reaction out of her.

“You never stop, do you?”

Agatha laughs. “Life’s boring otherwise.” She pauses. “Or death is anyway.”

“Are you calling me boring?” Rio shoots back, with a suggestive tilt of her eyebrow.

“Never,” Agatha grins.

Agatha sticks out her foot again but Rio grabs her wrist, and the touch distracts her so much that the person she’d been aiming to trip walks right through her foot.

Agatha can see that Rio is just as confused about how she can touch her, but others can’t.

“I never asked, how did this happen?” Rio asks, keeping hold of her wrist.

It makes Agatha feel uneasy in the best possible way.

“This?”

“How did you become a ghost?” Rio clarifies.

“I don’t know,” Agatha says, because it’s true, she’s not quite sure. “One moment I was...” Agatha trails off when she realises what she was about to say.

Kissing you.

But even if Agatha doesn’t say it, Rio hears it. Agatha knows she does because Rio glances down at her mouth and Agatha has to swallow down all the feelings it brings up before she continues.

“And the next moment you and Billy were gone, and I was like this.”

The moment feels suddenly charged, Rio still holding her wrist, so Agatha breaks the moment, even if she can’t bring herself to break the contact.

She’s hated her for so long, but she doesn’t hate her anymore. She sees it now, Rio was just doing her job, it wasn’t her choice to take Nicky.

“Maybe I did it just because I know how much you hate ghosts.”

Rio rolls her eyes. “You would become a ghost out of spite.”

“You know me,” Agatha grins. “I love a bit of spite.”

“I have to go, duty calls,” Rio suddenly says, looking as disappointed by the interruption as Agatha feels.

Rio squeezes her wrist and then is gone, Agatha left wondering what’s going on between them.

She fell in love with death a long time ago. She realises now she never fell out of it.

—

Agatha may be a ghost, but that doesn’t mean she has changed that much. Which means she’s very happy to kill the odd witch here and there, just for the power.

And maybe a little bit because she knows a dead body means Rio will show up.

So that’s how Rio finds her, standing over the body of a witch she’s just killed.

“What’s going on?” Rio asks, a smirk on her face.

Agatha shrugs, it’s pretty obvious exactly what she’s done.

It almost feels just like old times.

Except old times didn’t include the ghost of the witch she’s just killed appearing in front of her.

“Oops,” Agatha laughs, taking a step backwards as the ghost turns angrily towards her. “Well, in my defence, you deserved it,” Agatha says, addressing the ghost. That’s not true, but they all know that.

Rio steps between them and Agatha feels that warmth again, that annoying feeling of gratitude as Rio protects her. Not that she needs the protection, but it’s nice all the same.

Rio shoots her a look over her shoulder and Agatha gets the message loud and clear.

Leave. Now.

There’s no heat in the gaze, Rio still just looks amused.

Agatha blows her a kiss, excitement still thrumming through her from the kill (and Rio’s look) before she vanishes.

It really is just like old times.

—

Agatha is surprised when she goes looking for Rio and finds her not far away.

Rio doesn’t startle anymore when Agatha appears, she just shoots her a smile as Agatha takes a seat on the stoop outside her old house in Westview.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asks, though there’s not a lot of reasons Rio could be here.

“Just thinking.”

Rio’s eyes flash to hers and Agatha sees the unspoken end of the sentence.

“Just thinking about you.”

It makes Agatha’s chest crack and spill, like it hasn’t in a long time. She’d forgotten what this felt like, to actually feel, and to have someone love her in return.

Agatha reaches out, takes Rio’s hand, threads their fingers together and brings Rio’s hand to rest in her lap.

Rio looks up with such a hopeful look that it reminds Agatha of the way they used to be, the fun they used to have.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio says and Agatha sees it again, how much she hurt Rio, how much damage they’ve both done to each other.

Rio wasn’t lying when she’d called Agatha her scar, because Rio is hers too, a permanent mark that she’d tried to erase with time and hate, but never quite could.

“You can’t kill a ghost, right?” Agatha asks, leaning into Rio, into her space, where she never wants to leave again.

“Not this way,�� Rio says, leaning in too and then their lips meet and it’s nothing like last time.

This kiss is soft at first, Agatha can feel how tentative Rio is, like she’s worried Agatha is going to vanish again.

Even though as a ghost, she’s very good at that, she’s not going to do that again. She doesn’t want to. All she wants is Rio.

So screw tentative, she’s missed this for years, and needs Rio back.

The kiss turns heated, Agatha gripping Rio like she’s the one that might disappear.

“I’ve missed you too, my love,” Agatha mumbles into the kiss, knows what the name words does to Rio. She holds Rio close as she says her next words too. “I’m sorry.”

Rio pulls away, looking amused. “I never thought I’d hear those words coming from you.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Can I get used to this?” Rio asks, trailing her hand down Agatha’s side. “You’re not going to vanish on me again?”

Agatha can hear the real fear in her words.

No one thinks Death feels fear, but Agatha knows better.

Agatha rests her forehead against Rio’s, shuts her eyes, and even though she doesn’t have a heart, it feels like she does, like it’s beating just for Rio.

“Never.”

She means it.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha all along fanfic #getting (back) together #i'm just having a lot of feelings about these characters and had to write something #agatha spoilers

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saturncoyote · 2 days ago

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After much work i have finally written down my analysis on the fictional character Creek from hit children's movie Trolls 2016, open Read More on your own discretion because this shit is about to get long

Alright let's start with a small summary for the folks that have never watched a Trolls movie and don't really know anything about Creek outside of the plethora of art i've made about him

Creek is one of the movie's side characters and secondary villain, he is Poppy's (the main character) friend and acts as a short-of twist villain (i'll explain that 'short-of' later,). Although shown to be a stereotypical nature-loving hippie he later betrays his friends and everyone he's ever known as he sells out the location of their village to Bergens, a race who 20 years ago used to keep the pop trolls in a large cage and would eat them once a year during a holiday called Trollstice.

He is first introduced when Branch (the movie's second protagonist) is confronting Poppy about her decision to throw a party, arguing that this could attract the attention of the Bergens, this is also where my first point about Creek's character begins First thing to notice is that, unlike what some people would like you to believe, Creek is NOT the only troll in Poppy's friend group (the Snack Pack) to be dismissive towards Branch, if anything Poppy herself is the only one in the group that seems to want to give him a chance ("i think everyone deserves to be happy"). Creek also shows up late to the conversation, only appearing once Branch escalates the situation by throwing Poppy's party invitation to the floor and stomping on it. You could easily argue that, in Creek's perspective, he is only doing what a good friend should do and protecting his friend from someone who is being cruel towards them, and although Branch has a GOOD reason to be upset and we later find out more about his backstory, there is no reason for us to believe that Creek or even the rest of the Snack Pack know anything about his situation, to THEM Branch is nothing but a party pooper who actively chooses to stay miserable ("some folks just don't want to be happy")

One point that i sometimes see that i would like to snip in the bud as soon as possible is that Creek doesn't truly care about his friends, especially Poppy, and is only using her to get something out of her (what exactly ? well we don't know, we could especulate that since she is the princess, he may want to use her for her status, possibly wanting to become royalty himself, but we're not here for that), the reason i bring this up now is because of the scene that follows the interaction with Branch, where Creek is the first one to notice that Poppy is still upset about the results of the conversation, not only that but he doesn't seem too happy about it himself

It would have been extremelly easy to animate him smiling or looking smug after Branch storms off, but that doesn't happen, he even glances down at the ground before looking towards Poppy, which is when he attempts to cheer her up. This small scene ALONE already leads me to believe that he truly does care, and although his attempts at cheering her up aren't exactly the best nor the most productive ("tune out his negative vibrations Poppy, they're toxic") he is still trying.

However we do not get enough time to find out more about his relationship with Poppy outside of this very moment as the next scene in the movie is the party and their imminent capture by the Chef Bergen, this is where i'd like to remind you that i called him only a "short-of" twist villain. For a twist villain to truly work we first need to understand why this character is considered to be a "good guy", and their relationship with the protagonist, so that the incoming reveal of them being the antagonist has a impact, not only on the other characters, but the audience themselves. The thing about Creek is that we don't GET that insight into his relationship with Poppy, they interact TWICE before the reveal, and one of those interactions is Poppy attempting to save him from being carried away by a Bergen, therefore the "twist" itself falls flat... but what if i told you that was done on purpose by Dreamworks ?

Before the existence of Creek there was another character who was meant to take his place in the storyline, and her name was Miss Guffin

According to concept art, Miss Guffin was originally going to be Poppy's mentor, and be captured by the Chef Bergen, and much like Creek she would sell out the other trolls as an attempt to save herself. Now that would have had a much bigger impact, not only on the audience as they realise that the respectful elderly character was a selfish coward at heart, but for Poppy as she would have had a much closer relationship with Guffin as her mentor. So why was she changed ? It's simple really, she was just too likeable.

Creek, by design, was created to be unlikeable, not only so that his reveal wouldn't upset the audience, but so that you wouldn't feel pity about his eventual demise. THIS is what i mean when i refer to him as a character "doomed by the narrative", he only exists because a much more appealing character had to be turned down for the sole reason of not upsetting those who watch the movie, he would never have been allowed to have a closer relationship with Poppy, because that would have given the viewer a emotional attachment to him, and we can't have that. Creek is a tragic character in the sense that he was destined to be the traitor, not only a traitor but a unredeemable one, and i understand why that is, there was never going to be enough time in the movie to give him a satisfying redemption, and it would have thrown off the entire flow of the story, killing him off was a much easier choice than trying to squeeze an awkward redemption at the very end, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that there WAS more. His fate feels unfair to me, as his only crime is being kind of a dickhead, and it's hard to blame him for his decision to sell out Pop Village when his only other option wasn't much better, so let's talk about that next.

In the next scene where we see Creek, him and the rest of the Snack Pack have been put in a cage by the Chef, this is where i'd like to point out that his first reaction to this predicament is to try and get everyone else to stay calm ("Woah, woah ! Everyone, we must all remain calm") This scene leads directly to the one where he gets nearly eaten by King Gristle, and when i say nearly i mean it, he is shoved INTO his mouth and assumed dead by everyone except for Poppy, who is only holding out hope that he is still alive. Of course we later find out that he is indeed, not dead, but that is only because he clung to Gristle's uvula causing him to choke and spit him out. The way we find out that he is alive is through Gristle himself, who reveals to Bridget that he has him locked inside his cape's clasp

Notice how little space he has in there, i'd say barely any to move let alone breathe, as he lets out a desperate gasp just as the clasp is opened. We do not know how much time has passed since he escaped being nearly eaten alive, but we can estimate it has to have been at least a few hours, as quite a few events happen between the formerly mentioned scene and this one. We do NOT get to see what happens between him, Gristle and the Chef during that time, which means we can only ESPECULATE why he was put in there in the first place, so allow me to do just that:

- Firstly, we do not know if Creek agreed right away to the Chef's request to reveal the location of the village, for all we know he might have declined to do so, and putting him into a small claustrophobic space was a way to give him that final push. - However this could have also been a way to stop him from escaping and telling the other trolls of the Bergen's plan, but i fail to see why they would have had to resort to such a, let's be honest here, barbaric method of keeping him put, when a normal cage would have done the job just as well, perhaps the Chef wanted to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. - Thirdly, this could have been a way to have someone keep an eye on him as the Chef busied herself with other things, essentially making Gristle the guard to Creek's prison No matter what option you decide makes the most sense, one thing is clear: Creek was tortured

At last we finally reach the moment he reveals to Poppy, Branch and the rest of the Snack Pack that he plans on betraying all of them and selling out the location of the village, this is the scene that is supposed to make you despise him, for being so cowardly and selfish that he'd rather let everyone he's ever known die horribly than.... give up his own life ? Hold up did i read that right, oh... hm Creek is a character who finds himself in a situation out of his control and is forced to make a decision between two truly awful options, he can either let himself be eaten or everyone else goes, there is NOT a correct answer here, and in the end his sense of self preservation wins. A decision probably influenced by the fact that before this moment, he had spent hours trapped in a small space with barely enough oxygen. There was NEVER going to be another way, as the Chef states herself:

Especially bringing attention to how he acts in this scene, to me it comes across less like he's finally showing his true colors as a manipulative person, and more like he's desperately trying to justify his actions not only to Poppy but to himself ("At least you get to die with a clear conscience")

And it seems like he's successful in doing so, for him at least, what other options does he have ? It's either give up your own life, or convince yourself that what you're about to do isn't truly that bad, he chooses to look at it with a positive outlook, ignoring the very obviously bleak reality he finds himself in ("So in a way... You could say... I'm doing this for you")

Another thing about this scene is that we don't really get to see his true feelings on the situation, as during this conversation the Chef Bergen is actively sharpening knifes in the background, even if he did want to come up with a escape plan or air out how he feels about this predicament they find themselves in, he would be unable to do so, as the person who could easily just snatch him up and kill him right then and there stands in the very same room. And that is a recurring thing when it comes to Creek, we don't get to SEE much of him, we don't see the events leading up to his betrayal, we don't really get to see his relationship with Poppy or even the rest of the Snack Pack for that matter, we don't SEE how he feels about being trapped inside Gristle's cape clasp or having to choose between himself or his friends, and honestly we probably never will. For a secondary villain he barely gets any screen time at all, and the screen time he does get is spent in near constant live-threatening danger.

And finally, his story comes to an end, the Bergens discover true happyness, Chef Bergen is defeated, and the last time we see Creek he's getting swallowed up by a mountain sized creature, the very thing he tried so hard to save himself from, to the point that he would give up everyone he's ever loved, happens regardless of his choice, was he even given a choice in the first place ? When both options led him to the same fate ? I would say it's almost tragically poetic if it didn't feel like salt to the wound.

Of course, Trolls: The Beat Goes On exists, but it's not even close to being a good continuation of his character let alone a satisfying redemption, his introduction is incredibly rushed, characters who have no reason to forgive him for his actions immediatelly welcome him back with open arms, and the one person who doesn't do so is shown to be in the wrong even though his reaction and suspicion make complete sense.

Besides, TBGO is it's own can of worms and opening it now would only make this post longer than it needs to be, so i'll spare you from that.

My final point is that Creek is a much more complex and interesting character than the story would like you to believe, and it CAN be quite frustating seeing people brush him off as just a selfish fraud who never truly cared about anyone but himself when there's really so much more under the surface. Of course i'm not saying that you should love him, hell you don't even need to like him, he has a lot of flaws and has made terrible decisions, but that's also exactly the reason why i am so keen on giving him a better ending. He shouldn't need to be perfect to deserve a nicer fate, to be given an actual choice for once, one that isn't going to blow up in his face in the end, the ability to be better and do better. You don't deserve to be tossed aside just because you have a big ego or some other personal flaw, you don't deserve to be considered unredeemable because you were put in a situation out of your control, making a bad decision shouldn't define your existence for the rest of your life.

I've come to accept that Creek is a very important character to me, he's a character who NEEDS to be selfish for the story to work the way it does, one who's the narrative is actively trying to make as unlikeable as possible at all times, but it's attempts had an opposite effect on me, and the more i dug only solidified him as my favorite in the entire franchise. I love him because of his unused potential, potential that'll most likely never get a true chance to shine due to Dreamworks not seeming to really care about him as a character, so i have taken upon myself to do what canon failed to. If i had to pick ONE THING for folks that read this post to get out of it, is that you should never be embarassed of your enjoyment for a fictional character, no matter how unlikeable or one-dimensional they seem to be, analyse every frame they show up in, write that fanfic, draw that art, create that self indulgent AU, find meaning where no one else did

#saturn speaks #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls creek #long post #character analysis

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the-badger-mole · 3 days ago

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Zutara prompts: Stepping in front of the other to shield them from something/someone.

Please ☺️

Zuko was shocked to see his father had actually showed up tonight. It wasn't the first time Zuko was being honored for an accomplishment, and this wasn't even a particularly big win for him. Last year, he had won a Phoenix Crown award for his work on the score of the Painted Lady movie. By comparison, a golden leaf at the Yangbaechu Awards for his tsungi horn album was the equivalent of taking home first place at a school art show. It was still an honor, of course, but far fewer people cared. Still, his uncle had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate, as he always did (though Zuko suspected Iroh had only really meant to provide an alternative to the wilder celebrity after parties that usually took place on these nights). Tonight, Ozai had surprised everyone by actually showing up.

Far less surprising was the look of disapproval permanently etched onto his face. Ozai's face was twisted as if he smelled something terrible. He cast a judgemental look around the room in such an obvious way, Zuko knew that his and Iroh's guests could tell exactly what he was thinking. Zuko could practically read his father's thoughts. So disappointing, his son. Zuko had managed to achieve his own fame and fortune separate from Ozai's political and business world, yet he wasted his time and talent on movies with no prestige, and concept albums that most people only pretended to understand. He was friends with mostly B and C list celebrities- certainly no power players who could help Zuko move up in the world. Never mind that Zuko was making a living- a very good living- doing what made him happy. Ozai had never cared for his son's happiness.

Right around the time Zuko was beginning to wonder why Ozai had bothered to show up at all, his father met his eye. Then to Zuko's surprise, Ozai came over. Zuko down the last of his lava whiskey sour and braced himself.

"You're wasting your time," Ozai said. Zuko fought the urge to lower his head. He was as tall as Ozai now. His father couldn't tower over him to intimidate him anymore.

"I've got an award that says otherwise," Zuko replied through clenched teeth. "Several of them, in fact." Rage flashed across Ozai's face, and in spite of himself, Zuko cringed a little.

"Still a mouthy little snot after all these years."

"Why did you come?" Zuko demanded. "Since I'm such a disappointment to you, why don't you just leave me to live my own life?"

"And let you keep embarrassing the family name?" Ozai sneered. "It was bad enough when my brother turned his back on the company to start his little tea shop, but now here you are making a fool of us with your antics. Your sister is poised to launch her campaign for governor, but all anyone can talk about is what actress you're dating, or what foolish little superhero movie you're making songs for."

"Well, I'm sorry Azula isn't more interesting," Zuko said. "Why don't you tell everyone what she got up to in college? I bet the people would find that a lot more interesting than what I'm doing. I know that would defeat the purpose of you spending so much money to cover it up, but it would take the attention off of me."

"I see your success has made your forget to be humble. I ought to remind you." Ozai scowled at Zuko. His hand flexed at his side, as if he were going to strike his son. It wouldn't be the first time, but would he really dare in front of so many witnesses?

"There you are!" Zuko and Ozai jumped in surprise when Katara appeared at his side. Katara had a wide smile on her face, but her sharp eyes were on Ozai in a way that Zuko knew was a warning. "You can't spend your entire party tucked up in a dark corner. At least not without me. So, catch me up. What are we talking about?"

"This is family business," Ozai sneered at her. "Why don't you go find some paparazzi to pose for."

"Maybe some other time," Katara's smile never wavered, but her eyes grew sharper.

"Do you know who I am?" Ozai sputtered, affronted.

"I do know who you are," Katara said, crossing her arms. She stepped forward, and drew up to her full height (which still left her a good half a head shorter than Ozai, even in heels), and glared at him directly. She stood in front of Zuko protectively. "I know exactly who you are, and I don't like you."

"As if I care what some tarty little slut thinks," Ozai sneered. "I'm talking to my son, so leave us alone, or I'll-" Before Ozai could finish his threat, Katara had grabbed his arm and thrown him over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a body rattling thud. The air left his lungs in a whoosh and all Ozai could do was groan weakly.

"I've taken Southern Tribe style martial arts since I was a kid," Katara said, leaning over Ozai. "I know exactly how to handle bullies like you. Now, I have on good authority that you're trespassing, so I'd suggest you leave before I really have to get tough on you."

Ozai managed to stumble onto his feet. He glowered down at Katara. She stared back at him defiantly. He seemed to be about to retaliate, but then he saw Zuko standing behind her with a dark, challenging look on his face. Then Ozai noticed that the other partiers had stopped their talking and dancing and were now watching him with various degrees of warning on their faces. Then he saw the security guards standing at the perimeter of the room as if they were waiting for a signal. For the first time in Zuko's life, Ozai looked a bit scared. Finally, he straightened his jacket and sniffed haughtily at Zuko and his friends, and left without another word.

After a few minutes, the party atmosphere returned. A handful of Zuko's friends came up and checked in on him to make sure he was okay, but after some brief reassurances, they returned to their conversations and drinks and Zuko was once again surrounded by the lively sounds of his friends having fun. Katara slipped her arm through his.

"I'm sorry if I went too far," she murmured. Zuko leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"No, you were spectacular," he assured her. "I didn't think I could be any more attracted to you, but I stand corrected."

#atla #zutara #prompt game #OTP Prompts: Protectiveness

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actuallysaiyan · 2 days ago

Text

The RainIII(All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Hero!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, daddy kink, size kink, Toshinori in his All Might form, Reader is given a hero name(feel free to ignore if you don't want to imagine yourself as this hero), Reader is All Might's former mentee, established relationship, vaginal fingering, quickies, semi-public sex

word count: 1.8k

pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Hero!Reader

summary: you see him at an award ceremony and you both try your best to keep your feelings under wraps. you and him have a very risky quickie.

a/n: Read part one and part two to understand the plot!

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @thissaintjessi. @cherryblossombankai , @thestarsystemsworld, @pixelcafe-network

The way he looks at you, you swear you’re about to combust. He rarely gives you this kind of look when you’re in public. Especially not while he’s out accepting an award. You look at him with a similar look. It’s the kind of look that says, “I’m going to fuck your brains out when we get home." The only issue is that the public doesn’t know that you two are together yet.

He’s so graceful with everything too. You’ve long admired this man for ages. He was your mentor; he helped you become the hero you are today. How many of these people know of his sacrifices to keep them safe? Do they know about his injury that has left him incapable of keeping his form for very long?

Or are your eyes the only ones who get to see the beautiful Toshinori Yagi in the way he’s meant to be looked at?

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without my supporters, fans, and of course, my wonderful colleagues! I am your Symbol of Peace, but please trust me when I say that a hero is nothing without his fellow heroes.”

The crowd erupts in cheers. You smile as you look at him from your spot on the side of the stage. Your hero costume feels heavy on your body. Toshinori seems to be really enjoying seeing you in it. It’s been a while since he’s seen you up close in your hero costume. And he just keeps giving you that look, in such a sly way too.

He answers a few questions, and your heart races in your chest when he’s asked about his love life. He doesn’t dare look at you this time. You had both decided to wait to make this official in the public eye. He just laughs heartily as always.

“There may be someone in my life who I’ve always admired, but I can’t give any more details than that.”

The crowd begins speculating. You love the way they eat up every single word he says. You watch as a few other heroes step up to the podium to answer some questions as well. As per usual, you do not miss the way Endeavor glares at your lover.

Trying to sneak off backstage, you’re stopped by Mt. Lady. She smirks at you, clearly wanting to share some juicy gossip with you. You follow her towards the small sitting area rustled up for heroes who weren’t going to be interviewed during this award ceremony.

“Did you hear that?! All Might has a lover!” She says, her eyes wide.

You laugh, “I sure did. I wonder though... someone he’s admired for a long time...”

She begins talking your ear off, trying to think of the right person that fits the bill. You wish you could tell her the truth, but you promised you wouldn’t say anything to any of your colleagues. It would be something you both do together as a couple.

“I mean, I think he had something with Sir Nighteye.” This makes you laugh.

“Oh definitely,” you nod your head. “Those two were as thick as thieves. They were probably in a secret relationship.”

This was something you had been thinking about lately. Who were the people that Toshinori had dated before you? You weren’t jealous. In fact, you were more than curious. You tried to pry the information out of your lover, but you never had a good chance to do so.

“A secret relationship? That sounds like All Might.” Yu chatted with you. She seemed to be even more interested in the subject than you previously thought.

“Of course. It’s totally him. That man keeps everything private.”

Then she turns to look at you, and she notices the way you’re smirking. "Hey, he did give you quite the look during his speech.”

Your heart drops, and you try to laugh it off. She smirks, but her attention is thankfully taken off of you when Shinji Nishiya walks into the backstage area. You knew those two had a decently close relationship when Mt. Lady ruined Kamui Woods debut as a hero.

“Hey Shinji! Do you think All Might is in a secret relationship? We think he was together with Sir Nighteye…”

The two of them gossip while you watch the line of pro heroes coming to the backstage area. You’re waiting for him, of course. He’d probably be one of the last ones to enter the backstage area. You try not to make it obvious that you are indeed waiting for All Might considering you think Mt. Lady might think you two are seeing each other.

He enters the area, giving you a ‘blink-and-you’ll-miss-it’ type of look. You try to busy yourself with talking to the other pro heroes, but you desperately want to go home with the man of the hour. This is when you catch the angry look of Enji Todoroki, and you’re so quick to avert your gaze.

The rain begins to fall on the tent you’re all sitting in. It was supposed to be an award ceremony and a glorified mingling session for the pro heroes, but with the rain coming down, people were starting to want to head to dryer places to be able to mingle. You try to keep an eye on your lover while still trying to maintain a comfortable distance.

“Say,” Yu leans in to talk to you once more. “Want to come to the restaurant with a few of us?”

You shrug, “Yeah! Sounds like fun. Wanna give me some time to get into something more suited for the restaurant?”

“Sure thing! Let’s meet outside of the restaurant in an hour.”

You agree on the time and place, then you’re making your way out of the tent. After a few minutes, you feel someone following you. When you peek behind yourself and see your lover, your heart begins racing. He winks at you and nods. You know better than to immediately go to him while the press is still around.

This ends up with the two of you finding shelter in a makeshift tent nearby for the camera and electrical equipment. You’re both a little damp from the rainfall. It only made things between you both even hotter.

Toshinori looks at you like he wants to devour you. He knows he’ll have more time to take you later, but right now he needs something quick. The man growls as he picks you up and begins kissing you hungrily. His tongue penetrates your mouth, wrestling and tangling with yours.

You hold onto him, loving the way the spandex of his suit was clinging to his muscles right now. The rain had only done you favors, really. Toshinori smirks when he pulls away from the kiss.

“We gotta make this quick,” you whine. “I have to be at the restaurant in different attire in less than an hour.”

“You too, huh?” He laughs softly.

It takes very little for him to undo your hero costume, stripping it off your body. You were well aware that anyone could catch you two, but you didn’t care. Even if this was how you two would show the world you were together, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was feeling him fill you up.

“I need to prepare you,” he grunts in your ear. He sucks on two of his fingers, then he eagerly uses them to stretch open your little hole.

Your breathing became uneven, and you had to lean on him because you absolutely didn’t trust your legs right now. Toshi takes little time to begin fucking you with his thick fingers. You were pretty used to him being in his true form, so for you to feel this stretch was quite a nice change of pace as well.

“Poor little girl,” he smirks as he watches you rely on him to keep you upright. “You’ve been missing daddy’s cock.”

You can’t even argue with this. He’s been quite busy lately, so it’s been a while since either of you could have some alone time. You missed the way he stimulated you, and you definitely were missing the sex and intimacy.

Toshi pumps his fingers deeper and harder in your pussy until you’re dripping all over his hand. He pulls it from you, making you whine at the loss of contact. It’s quickly replaced with a muffled moan as he spears you onto his length. You barely realized when he undressed himself.

“Gotta be quiet, baby.” He moans in your ear as he begins to pick up his pace. “We don’t wanna be caught like this.”

You lean against him, nuzzling against his muscular chest and biting down whenever the pleasure gets too good. He’s hitting spots deep inside of you that have you seeing stars. Toshinori laughs softly at the way you’re just a moaning mess now.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Already this fucked out on daddy’s cock, huh? What a good girl.”

You nod eagerly, biting down on his chest once more when he slams you down on him. He continues to fuck you like this, making the pleasure bubble deep inside of you. The knot in your tummy was about to unravel, especially if he was going to continue slamming right up against that sweet spot. You try to tell him you're close, but you can barely get the words out.

"T-Toshi,” you whine. “C-cumming.”

He laughs once more, loving the way he can just reduce you to this fucked out little lover. It boosts his ego when he knows he’s the one that can make you feel this way. You, this up-and-coming hero who’s got her career ahead of her and him, this washed out beloved older hero... it’s just the match made in heaven.

Your walls begin pulsating around him as you bite down hard on his pec. You’re going to leave a mark, that was for sure. When you manage to catch your breath after such an intense orgasm, you rest your head on his chest and look up at him with all the love in your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts. “When you look at me like that, princess, you make it hard for me to last much longer.”

You don’t stop giving him that lovesick look. Toshinori grits his teeth as he begins to pump you full of his thick seed. Slowly, he lowers you down on your shaky legs after he manages to come down from his high. He helps you back into your hero costume, smirking when he thinks about how his seed is going to be dripping from your abused cunt.

Then, with a long and passionate kiss, Toshinori guides you out of the tent. He winks at you before you two part ways.

“See you at the restaurant, Powerhouse.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

#bacon.writes #toshinori x reader #toshinori x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi x you #bnha #bnha x reader #all might #all might x reader #all might smut #toshinori yagi smut #yagi toshinori x you #yagi toshinori x reader #mha toshinori #bnha toshinori

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dira333 · 2 days ago

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Stray Cat Police - Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader

meet-cute and confession - for @hitoshishusband for the Milestone Event Week 1

The kitten is a tiny white thing, barely bigger than your hand.

“Oh my gosh, you are so cute!” You leave your coffee behind to crouch low, tsk to catch his attention.

It hesitates, mewling, turning its head in the opposite direction.

You expect its mother to be waiting and lean to the side to check behind the shrubbery, only to find a set of beautiful, deep purple eyes staring back at you. The kitten bites the tip of your fingers as you squeak in surprise and the guy attached to those purple eyes moves, slow and yet deliberate, toward you.

“Forget it,” you hiss, picking the kitten up. “This one’s mine.”

He halts, surprise visible in his eyes. You can’t see much more of his face, something like a metal box hiding his mouth, but his hair seems just as purple as his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be more scared for your own safety when you find a guy in the bushes?”

You blink, embarassed. “I mean, yeah, but… you were looking at the kitten more than you were looking at me, so I… I didn’t think, I guess.”

“Well, you can still give me the kitten, and-”

“Forget it,” you interrupt him, trying to get up without flashing him in the short skirt you wore for work. “Find a different one.”

The kitten pees on your hands.

“So you want to be handed over?” You ask it and it mewls back at you pathetically. You sigh, glare ready when gloved hands reach out for it. “No.”

“It clearly needs a home.”

“And it will have one, with me.”

“I saw it first.”

“And it still chose me.”

He sighs. “Look, I’m a Hero. Maybe you’ve heard of me, but-”

“That won’t get you any brownie points here.” You hesitate. “What kind of hero are you?”

“Underground. But you might have heard of me, Brainwave?”

“Not really. Did you catch anyone big lately?”

His shoulders fall down. “No, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry. I could, uh, buy you a coffee? As a thanks for your service?”

“I really want that cat.”

“Go visit the shelter?”

“Oh, no, because I never thought of that before?” His snark is surprising, but not unwelcome.

“So why haven’t you?” You hold the kitten up to check for flees but it seems healthy. His eyes follow its movement and you clutch it back to your chest where it begins to purr.

“It’s supposed to be a present. My little sister is starting school this week and she wants a kitten.”

“And she can’t have a bigger cat why?”

“Eri’s special. If she wants a kitten that will grow with her, I will get her a kitten. There are just no kittens around, it seems. And this one…” He hesitates. “Her hair is white. Blueish white, but white. It’s perfect.”

Your heart melts at this, just a little, but enough it seems. You hesitate as well.

“Can you prove that story?”

“Sure,” he pulls out his phone, turning it for you to see. His phone background is him and a little girl with white hair and a horn on the side of her head, both of them grinning into the camera, though his grin is more on the lazy side. He’s really attractive if he’s not wearing his Hero outfit, it seems.

“And this is Petrol,” he swipes through his phone, showing off a fat cat with almost yellow fur. “He’s her Dad’s cat. Smells like Petrol too, don’t ask me why. Eri calls him Mister Stinker.”

You laugh, swallowing down the last of your hesitation.

“Fine. I will give you the kitten. But I wanna get updates on his health and if I’m not absolutely satisfied I’m taking it back.”

“Are you the stray cat police?” He jokes but you don’t smile. “Something like that. What are you going to name it?”

“I’ll let Eri decide. You’re not going to regulate that, are you?”

Brainwave, as you still call him, is diligent with the updates.

Every morning you get a picture of Pitpat, the little cat, named after the pitter patter of his tiny paws on the kitchen floor, as he explained.

Pitpat is clearly well loved, if you can judge that by the amount of toys he already has. So well loved you don’t hesitate to call him up when you find a very pregnant cat on your way home.

He’s quick to answer and even quicker to question you.

“You’re not taking it in?”

“I will,” you tell him, scratching the feline’s dirty chin. “But I thought I’d give you the heads up if you wanted one of the kids.”

Surprised silence follows it. You wonder if this was a bad idea.

“I’d take the mother,” he finally answers. “No one takes the mothers, right?”

“Oh,” you blink. “That’s… very thoughtful of you. She’s a nice little lady. A little too eager to bite.”

“Bite you,” he corrects you, a grin in his voice. “She’ll love me.”

You laugh. “You’re very confident for a guy who got peed on yesterday.”

“Hey, we don’t judge Petrol’s lack of bladder control.” But he’s laughing and you wonder how you got here, joking with him on the phone when you don’t even know his first name. Or his last.

Lady bites him too. He promises that she bit you harder but you doubt it.

All five of her little ones find new homes and you wonder when there’ll be an end to it, the updates about the cats you no longer have any claim to.

Brainwave must know it too, because much too soon there’s a message in your inbox that you’ve been dreading for a while.

Brainwave: Can we get coffee? Where we found Pitpat? I wanna talk.

“Found more cats?” You greet him, trying to downplay the effect he has on you, the rush of your heart at his sight in sweatshirts and a loose-fitting tee, smiling this lazy smile of his.

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Just a hobby,” you deflect, cursing your sudden awkwardness when he gets up to get your drinks.

“Listen,” he twirls his cup in his hands as soon as he’s sitting, looking over your shoulder instead of into your eyes. “I wanna tell you my name.”

“You shouldn’t,” you blurt out. “I can’t sue you if I don’t know your name.”

“Why would you sue me?”

“Why would you tell me your name?”

He laughs, sudden and carefree, and it calms your heartbeat better than any anxiety medication ever could.

“I wanna go on a Date with you,” he manages to say through the last chuckles. “No crime fighting, no cat rescues, just… a date. You and me. And it would be weird if you’d call me Brainwave the whole time.”

“A date,” you echo, speechless.

“Yes. Because I like you. I don’t send so many cat updates because I’m afraid of you, you know.”

“Fooled me,” you huff and he laughs again, softer this time, a sound you want to here at least once more.

“You’re not at all afraid I could say no?” You ask after a second, fiddling with a packet of sugar to ease your nerves. “You’re that confident?”

“Not at all, I’m just very good at faking it.”

“Hmm,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Prove it.”

Without a word he pulls his phone out, swipes his thumb across and turns it over.

There’s a message on screen, riddled with typos and emojis.

Eri’s wishing him luck on his quest to confess to you.

“What if you fail?”

The question slips out unnoticed, but you don’t miss the way his lips wobble.

“Not that you do, you know, fail, I mean.”

“So you wanna go on a date with me?”

“Promise we’re not picking up stray cats?”

“I promise to try.”

#my writing #mha x reaader #mha #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou fluff #shinsou hitoshi #eri #dadzawa

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 days ago

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you went hard with this year's halloween costumes .... pls riel as chatgpt made me laugh so much 😭 BUT !!! i screamed BC I KNEW I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE who had to think of nasubi when talking about halek .... now that we're talking about it though, how do you think all of the characters would react if they were put into a situation like that? personally, i think halek and chase would perform best — halek bc duh, chase bc i think he'd find some kind of loophole and rig the whole thing

Oooh good question! So to recap for everyone, "Nasubi" was a young man who was challenged to stay alone in a tiny, windowless apartment, naked, to see how long he could survive on sweepstakes winnings (aka writing in to magazine contests and sweepstakes and living off of the prizes they sent him in the event that he won). He wasn't allowed to leave the apartment until he accrued 1,000,000 yen's worth of prizes, a task which ultimately took him about 355 days to do. (He was also being filmed the whole time, but thought it was a recording for an eventual TV show and was unaware he was being live-streamed 24/7 to 30 million people... but we'll leave that part of this scenario for now.)

Blade: he would never have agreed to do this in the first place, but if he were forced to... he would have escaped and probably slaughtered some producers on his way out within the first hour

Trouble: he could do it!!! he'd probably cook up ingenious ways to game the system and find the most efficient way of getting prizes quickly. He'd probably just do it to see if he could do it.

Tallys: no. nothing is worth her dignity. but if she were forced to, she'd probably be able to play the long waiting game and could spend an indefinite amount of time in there in solitude. She'd probably find it relaxing! Like a meditation retreat!

Shery: she could do all of this except the nudity part. The nudity would make her exceptionally uncomfortable and she'd either beg to leave immediately or would never agree to the challenge to begin with. If forced, she'd probably spend a lot of time fashioning makeshift clothes for herself and might accidentally starve first lol

Riel: no. no. no. no. no. he would never agree to this, and if he were forced, he'd spend exactly one hour scheming the worst kind of revenge before immediately escaping and setting about making every person who was involved in this project suffer horrendously

Chase: he would agree to this for a lark, but would probably get bored and insanely starved of human contact (and distraction) by like the 5th day in. I can't predict him making it longer than a week before all of his pent-up energy popped like a firecracker and he burst out of the room (but like in a cool, unbothered way...) like a rabid animal

Red: he could do it! I think he'd handle it a lot like Nasubi lol but he'd be able to get through the whole trial with most of his sanity and dignity intact! He'd immediately turn his formidable mind to maximizing the efficiency of winning the prizes... and he'd probably spend a little time writing like a dissertation or something on the side LOL, like an academic retreat!

Ayla: she'd basically be like Chase, she'd say she could do it and would agree to the challenge just to prove she could do it, but she would get so bored and cranky that it would quickly lose its appeal and she would quit within ten days! Maybe fourteen days if the prize was really interesting!

Briony: she'd agree to it out of curiosity and trying to have a new experience, and I'd give it a 50/50 chance she'd be able to make it to like 4-6 months or quit immediately lol, like within a week!

Lavinet: no. no. no. no. she'd never agree to this, and if forced to, she'd either try to escape immediately or go on a hunger strike until they let her out or she died 😅

Halek: yes, he would be the best at this! this would be a very chill day job for him. there's a part of the documentary that they left out about how Nasubi is technically the first person to ever be live-streamed playing video games because at one point he did win a Playstation and a copy of like a train simulator called "Let's Ride a Train!" or something like that. And he had to forcefully stop himself from playing the game because if he played it too long, he'd run too low on food lol. That would be Halek too

#Shepherds of Haven #silly #but also sad because this really happened to somebody 🥲#hypothetical scenario

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ae-cow · 2 days ago

Text

Wash, Rinse, Romance, Repeat!

Warning: Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, She fell literally first and fell harder. This is a work of fiction with nothing to do with the idol's actual life. I do like some feedback. If you ever feel like "Hey this is very offensive." do tell me.

Pairing: Jay of Enhypen x fem!reader

Summary: You’ve always waited for the 40-minute wash cycle to end in the laundry room of your University dormitory, but everything changes when you accidentally stumble into the wrong room and meet Jay, a charming fashion major with a guitar. What starts as a simple mix-up leads to a delightful routine of late-night jam sessions and laughter amidst the warm scent of fresh laundry.

Word Count: 4k Words

A/N: Wanted this to be part of a series called University series but this does not fit the vibe I wanted. Based on an old ff I wrote back in 2021, really love the concept of laundry rooms don’t know why.

Written: 2 November 2024

🧦

You hurry down the dimly lit hallway of HYBE University, glancing at the clock that reads 4 AM. The campus is eerily quiet, and you’re on laundry duty today. Thursday rolled away too fast as you're tasked with washing your clothes after 2 days of not cleaning them. Spotting a door marked “Laundry,” you push it open.

You head back to your dorm to avoid waiting in the laundry room for 40 minutes, preferring the comfort of your bed. But as the time ticks down, you know it’s time to return.

Now, with only five minutes left, you step back inside. The warm scent of detergent fills the air, mingling with something cosy and inviting. You pause, realising this isn’t your usual laundry room. Panic sets in when you see a guy lounging casually on a counter with his guitar.

He looks up, surprise lighting up his face. “Uh, hey!” you say, feeling your cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Wrong room.”

Before you can retreat, your foot catches on a stray sock. You stumble, knocking over a basket of freshly laundered clothes. The fabric spills onto the floor, and embarrassment washes over you.

“Whoa, careful!” Jay laughs, hopping off the counter.

You bite your lip, feeling flustered. “I thought this was the other laundry room. I didn’t think anyone would be around,” You said, standing up

“Not many people do laundry at 4 AM,” he grins, picking up a shirt. “Wanna help me fold? You’ve already made a mess, after all.”

Hesitating momentarily, you glance at your clothes piled in the corner. “My clothes—”

You’re drawn in by his easy smile. “Uh, sure, why not?”

You perch yourself on the counter, your legs swinging as you begin folding. The atmosphere shifts as Jay starts strumming his guitar, soft melodies filling the room with warmth. A smile spreads across your face, and the tension you carry eases away.

“What’s your name?” he asks, glancing up from his instrument.

“I’m [Your Name].”

“Nice to meet you ____, I’m Jay, So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this at this hour?”

You laugh, feeling more comfortable. “Just trying to keep my laundry game strong. What about you?”

He shrugs, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Thought I’d make the most of my quiet time. This is my jam session spot.”

You can’t help but grin. “Usually, I come up here around the same time. It’s so quiet that I could’ve heard your tunes, but I never did.”

“This is a new routine for me,” he admits. “The boys would come up here to play games and do work, but I wanted some alone time, so yeah, I started coming here about a week ago.”

You nod, then again usually just come down, put in my detergent and softener, and then head back up. Once the timer’s up, you fold everything back into your dorm. But there might be a change of routine from now on.

Suddenly the sound beeps from the other laundry room, the lady's side. It was so quiet that you could hear the sounds of the beep from here.

“Oh, um that must be mine,” Damn it, why must that 5 minutes that would usually be hours be actually 5 minutes?

With a reluctant smile, you wave goodbye to Jay and grab your clothes from the dryer. As you head toward the elevator, you can’t shake the feeling that you want to linger a bit longer. Before stepping inside, you glance back over your shoulder and see Jay still folding his clothes, his guitar resting against the counter.

With a burst of spontaneity, you walk over to the door and knock gently. He looks up, initially shocked, but his expression softens into a smile when he sees it’s just you.

“Hey!” he exclaims, looking pleasantly surprised. “You’re back already?”

“I just wanted to say… it was nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” you say, trying to keep the tone casual despite the flutter in your chest.

“Definitely. I mean, I’ll be here, every alternate day jamming away in the laundry room,” he chuckles, folding another shirt. “You know, this could be our new late-night hangout spot.”

You nod, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. “I like that idea. I’ll hold you to it.”

🧺

The next day, you can’t help but notice Jay everywhere on campus. In just one day, you’ve seen him six times. He’s at the cafeteria, laughing loudly with his friends. You spot him through the window of his culinary class, where he’s focused, chopping vegetables with an oddly captivating ease. Later, you see him at the nearby Seven-Eleven, picking out a drink,

And too you realised the boy you had met in the laundry room with a casual tee, sweats had impeccable taste in fashion. His hair was slicked back, shades on, white button tee with the first button off paired with a brown leather jacket and black straight pants. Is it your great attention to detail or are you using it as an excuse for your growing fast crush on Jay? We don't know…

Your roommate raises an eyebrow when you offer to do the laundry. “Why are you suddenly so eager to do the laundry, mine at that?” she asks, amusement dancing in her eyes.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Just thought I’d help out more, you know?”

Is it just an excuse for you to stay with Jay longer while you say “Gosh I have more clothes to fold today.”

She smirks but doesn’t push it. “Well, if you’re volunteering, I won’t complain.”

With each passing day, the anticipation builds within you. After your first encounter with Jay on Thursday, you find yourself eagerly waiting for 4 AM to roll around on a Saturday. Your roommate is fast asleep, her clothes mingling with yours in the basket, while you mentally prepare a song you’d like to hear if he ever asks.

When the clock finally strikes four, you practically bounce out of bed, excitement coursing through you. You gather your laundry essentials, a song humming in your mind—one that captures the mix of nerves and thrill you feel when you think of Jay.

You made your way down, the basket of dirty laundry in hand. As you approached the girls’ laundry room, curiosity got the better of you, and you peeked to your left. There was Jay, looking adorably confused as he inspected his jacket. You couldn’t help but grin.

Shaking off your thoughts, you headed to your side of the room, quickly placing your clothes in the washer. You separated the whites as you’d promised your roommate, preparing them for a different cycle.

Once you were done, you turned back to Jay’s side and knocked gently on the doorframe.

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

“Oh, hey!” he replied, his surprise quickly melting into a smile.

He wore his hair unstyled this time, it was fluffy unlike the one you saw on campus however you liked this style on him, it was cute.

“What’s with that look on your face?” you asked, tilting your head in curiosity.

“My sweater’s colour is coming off,” he said, holding it up with a pout. “I literally just bought it, wore it once, and now it has these weird white-ish patches!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sight of him pouting was almost too cute to handle. “What did you wash it with?”

“I think I mixed it up with my whites. I didn’t even check,” he groaned, dramatically dropping his head back against the wall. “What am I going to do?!”

“Well, you might need a laundry lesson,” you teased, stepping closer. “It’s always good to separate colours from whites, You’ve gotta treat your clothes right.”

Jay chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess I’m not cut out for this whole laundry thing.”

You leaned against the wall next to him, feeling the warmth of the room and the easy chemistry between you. “Hey, we all start somewhere. Besides, I’m here to help.”

His expression brightened. “Really? You’d help me save my jacket?”

“Absolutely! I might even throw in some extra laundry tips while we’re at it.”

“Deal!” he said, looking more hopeful. “So, what’s the first lesson?”

“Always read the care label,” you said with mock seriousness. “And never underestimate the power of fabric softener.”

You both laughed, the air between you growing lighter and more comfortable. “And anyways, your jacket is still in amazing quality. You’ve gotta make something out of it,” you said, trying to encourage him.

You paused, thinking. “Hmm, what if you bleached it? It could turn all white?”

He shook his head

“No? Uhh, how about tie-dye? I have a friend who taught me once,” You said

“Great idea!” he exclaimed,

“I can ask my friend what colours I can borrow, and we can meet up tomorrow to do it,” you offered, already looking forward to the next encounter.

“Aww, thanks, man! Never expected some stranger I literally met a day ago would do that for me,” he said, his smile brightening.

You felt a slight sting at the word “man,” but brushed it off. At least he felt comfortable enough to call you that. “Well, I guess I’m just a friendly laundry enthusiast,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Definitely a friendly one,” he laughed.

“So. What colours are you expecting your sweater to have??”

“Pink? Slightly darker blue than this and so yellow could be nice,” He said as you nodded your head intently

“So, what’s your laundry schedule like? Should I expect to see you at 4 AM every two days now?” He asked

You nodded “I mean yeah If I get to see you sure,” You were taken by surprised with your sudden wave of confidence

A grin spread across his face

“Well, I’ll make sure to have my guitar ready for our next laundry session, then. I might need a backup singer.”

“Backup?? I’m the lead singer, Jay,” you laughed, feeling a playful spark between you.

“Truly? I do hope that your beautiful face has a beautiful voice too,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks at his compliment, “So, erhrm,” You coughed “Do you need help folding?”

At that moment, the laundry room felt less like a chore and more like a cosy hideaway where new friendships—and perhaps something more developing.

🎸

Tuesday had come around, it was time to do the laundry again, you stuck to your 4 AM routine. This time, you were excited—your friend had given you the tie-dye supplies in the vibrant colours you wanted and after texting Jay if he was coming to wash his laundry today(he was!) You took your laundry and quickly went up again to grab the supplies

As you approached the laundry room, you knocked on the door, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

“Hey!”

“I just did my laundry…” you said, holding up the colourful supplies triumphantly. “But that won’t stop me from coming here. I brought the colours!”

“Woah,” he said, eyes widening as he took in the array of dye. “This is going to be fun.”

“Did you bring your jacket?”

He nodded, pulling it out from his bag. You could see the faint white patches where the colour had bled.

“Let’s do this,” you said, feeling a rush of excitement. “I’ll show you how to tie-dye!”

“Really? You know how?”

“Yeah! My friend taught me.” You spread the jacket on a clean surface. “First, we’ll twist and fold it to create some cool patterns.”

You twisted the fabric with your hands, creating spirals and knots. “See? It’s all about how you fold it.”

With the Jacket prepped, you began applying the dye, squeezing the vibrant colours onto the fabric. “This part is the most fun. Just be random with it!” You added splashes of colour, watching the fabric absorb them.

You passed the colours to him too, it was his sweater, after all, he had to decorate it.

“It’s messy but totally worth it!” He said

“Now we just have to let it set.”

With the jacket soaked in colour, you hopped up onto the counter, your heart light with excitement for what the rest of the day might bring. You see the same Guitar you’d see every time you came here, yet you haven’t heard any of his music.

“Want to fill the time with a song while we wait for your clothes to finish?”

“Definitely,” he said, reaching for his guitar. “What’s your jam?”

“Surprise me!” you replied, grinning as he began to strum a gentle tune, filling the cosy laundry room with music.

Today you learned that he is a Fashion student, an only child, likes to cook, named his guitar Gibson because of his father and has an insanely attractive accent when he speaks in English.

💻

Thursday. The following days drag on as you try to ignore the nagging thought of Jay in the laundry room. You had an assignment looming over you, a 10-page essay due in just two days, and it was starting to feel like a mountain you had to climb.

You had begged your roommate to handle the laundry for you. “I have to finish my essay. Laundry is the least of my worries,” you insisted.

“Seriously?? Just two days ago, you were begging to do the laundry. What happened?” she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

“People change,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“No, go do your laundry it fucking stinks in here! It’ll take less than two minutes to toss the clothes in, add detergent, and you can type away during those 40 minutes,” she countered, her tone teasing but firm.

“Urgh, fine!” you finally relented, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

After a quick trip to the laundry room, you shoved the clothes into the machine, the cycle starting with a satisfying hum. You headed back to your dorm, feeling the weight of the essay pressing down on you. Sitting at your desk, you opened your laptop and tried to focus, but your thoughts drifted back to the cosy moments spent with Jay.

The vibrant colours of the tie-dye jacket you’d made together flashed through your mind, along with his easy smile and laughter. You sighed, trying to push those thoughts away. You had to stay focused.

But every time you tried to write, your mind wandered to what you were missing: those quiet mornings filled with laughter, music, and the sweet scent of laundry detergent.

Friday, you stuck to your plan, diving deep into the essay, and sacrificing your sleep. The deadline loomed closer, and the idea of spending time with Jay felt increasingly like a distant memory.

You think you were being dramatic but why were you missing the smell of the softener that you could smell whenever you two were in the same vicinity? The sweet smell of Foral in contrast to the cool style just makes him even more— focus just a few more hours.

You could only hope that after you turned in your essay, you’d find a way back to the warmth of those mornings in the laundry room.

You had finally finished your essay, sending it in at exactly 11:58 PM—just two minutes before the deadline and the weekend. A wave of relief washed over you, but it quickly turned into a pang of regret as you realized you hadn’t seen Jay in days, you've been sewn to your bed for 3 days. His smile and laughter from the laundry room lingered in your mind, reminding you of what you missed.

Man, you are down bad when you realise days without him were just you thinking about him.

Jay was on the laundromat, his usual guitar and a laptop to watch videos as he waited for his laundry to finish. He knows that you are busy, you both are university students so he understood that assignments were what's stopping you.

But he can't help but shake the feeling of emptiness. The reason why he started coming here at 4 AM was to enjoy the quietness and also the quiet yet loud sounds of the strums on the guitar.

Yet with you around he didn't mind the loudness of it all. The laughter, the singing from both you and him, the harmonising to one direction because it seems like the go-to artist for the two of you.

He knew your schedule you told him that you come here every 2 days, This week was Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, but you two could unexpectedly see each other on campus anyways, Monday is coming up and your jam session can start again.

As he strummed a few chords absentmindedly, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing for those early morning sessions. It was funny how the presence of another person could transform something so mundane into something extraordinary. The quietness he once cherished felt dull and lonely without you to share it with.

With a sigh, he glanced at the clock, hoping for a glimpse of you at any moment. The thought of your infectious smile and the way you lit up when you sang filled him with warmth, reminding him of why he had started coming here in the first place—not just for the peace but for the connection that blossomed in the most unexpected place.

🛏️

Saturday. You jolted awake the next morning to bright sunlight streaming through your window. Panic washed over you as you glanced at the clock—it was already 11:00 AM and you hadn’t done your laundry.

After a hasty breakfast, you threw on some clothes, barely managing to brush your hair before rushing out the door. You needed to check the laundry room for Jay. It seemed unlikely he’d be there, but you couldn’t resist the chance.

As you navigated the buzzing campus, excitement and nervousness churned in your stomach. When you reached the laundry room, you paused outside the door, heart racing. You pushed it open and peered inside.

To your delight, there he was—Jay, humming softly as he folded his sheets. He looked up, and a wide grin spread across his face. “Hey! You came back!”

You smiled back, but then it hit you—you had come at 11 AM instead of your usual 4 AM. A few male students in the room shot you curious glances, and you felt a rush of embarrassment.

“Oh god, I forgot it’s not 4 AM,” you muttered, hitting your forehead lightly. You gave an awkward smile and turned to leave.

What if the reason why was here at 11 was because he didn’t want to wake up at 4 AM and that you were stupid enough to think—

“Hey, laundry buddy!” he called out, waking you up from your thoughts

“Hi, I came to see you when I finally finished my essay,” you replied, turning back.

“Good thing 'cause I had to come here twice! Once at 4 and now, my roommate spilt soju on my bedsheet,” He explains

You winced

“Yeah, but hey I thought I lost my favourite laundry buddy!” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

Relief flooded over you. “I’m sorry! I had a paper due, and it consumed my life for the past few days.”

“No worries! I figured you were buried under textbooks. It is exam season,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “But you’re back now.”

“Yeah, umm, let’s meet again but next time at our usual time?” you suggested.

“Sure!”

🎤

Monday. As you settled onto the counter, your legs swinging, Jay picked up his guitar, filling the room with familiar sounds. He strummed a soft melody, and you couldn’t help but sway along, feeling the tension from the past few days melt away.

“What song do you want to hear?” he asked, glancing up at you.

You thought for a moment, then smiled. “I've been listening to a lot of One Direction, Nobody Compares? Do you know the melody?”

He nodded, launching into the song, his fingers dancing over the strings. You felt a flutter in your chest as you listened, captivated by the way he poured his heart into the music.

After a while, you couldn’t resist joining in, your voice blending with his. The room felt alive with laughter and music, the soft lingering eyes that you felt while you sang a verse 👀, the warm scent of detergent still lingering in the air.

As you sang, you realised how much you had missed this connection, this comfort. The laundry room had become more than just a place to wash clothes; it was your secret escape, a space where you could truly be yourself.

When the song ended, Jay looked at you with a playful smirk. “You know, I think we make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah, we do,” you agreed, feeling your cheeks warm. “Who knew laundry could be so much fun?”

He chuckled, then leaned closer. “I was thinking… Maybe we could do this more often? Not just for laundry, but maybe hang out outside of here too?”

Your heart raced at the suggestion. “I’d like that.”

🌸

Wednesday. You and Jay had settled into a comfortable rhythm in the laundry room, the familiar sounds of washing machines and the sweet scent of detergent enveloping you. It was another cosy evening, however, you could sense something was bothering Jay but you didn't want to pry, wanting him to share what was bothering him when he felt ready.

“Hey, umm ___?” he called, breaking into your thoughts. His tone was serious, and you turned to meet his gaze You were playing with his guitar, strumming it. “Yeah, Jay?” you stopped

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

Your heart raced at the sudden weight of his words. “Us?” you echoed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Yeah,” he continued, his expression earnest. “I really enjoy our time together, and I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re fun and creative, and you make laundry way more enjoyable.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, but the moment was electric with unspoken feelings. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay looked surprised, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes. “Really?”

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take the plunge. “I know we started just doing laundry together, but it’s turned into something so much more for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, and I like being around you.”

His eyes widened, a smile breaking across his face. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“No, I mean it,” you replied, feeling a surge of confidence. “You’ve become more than just my laundry buddy. I’ve been looking forward to our time together.”

Jay’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his gaze steady. “I’ve felt it too, ___. I’ve never had this kind of connection with anyone before. It’s refreshing.”

Your heart raced as you searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was warmth and sincerity. “So… where do we go from here?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could make this official?” he suggested, his tone hopeful. “I’d love to take you out, outside of the laundry room, and see where this goes.”

You nodded, feeling a rush of happiness. “I’d really like that, Jay. A lot.”

You stood there, the air between you charged with unspoken promise. You both knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful. The laundry room, once merely a place for mundane chores, had transformed into the backdrop for a budding romance, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

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dfwbwfbbwfbwf · 3 days ago

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I refuse to believe the Valar wouldn't have fought Morgoth without the Silmaril.

(There's a TLDR at the end.)

.... Not really Valar friendly, but not anti Valar either. Valar critical, but still more on their side than not.

I have many, MANY issues with how the Valar handled a lot of things - Finwë's remarriage, stepping over Finwë's authority as king, basically letting Morgoth go after his false repentance was revealed, basically letting Morgoth go because he crossed the Helcaraxë, the Silmarils, refusing to go after Morgoth when Fëanáro made it clear he would never give them his Silmarils, etc. - but I don't think they're malicious enough to hold back their help by the time Eärendil arrived.

When the Darkening happened, the Valar were ... naive is probably the best word I can use to describe it. And petty - they are absolutely petty, especially Yavanna and Tulkas. "Oh, the Noldor don't want anything to do with us? Well, we WON'T help! How about that? And don't call back because we won't even answer the phone!" Then Manwë sat by the metaphorical phone wondering sadly why they wouldn't call. :(

.... I have honestly no idea why they didn't go fight Morgoth to begin with - they could've evacuated everyone out of the area like they did in the War of the Powers - but I digress. I still don't think it was malicious or because they wanted anyone to die. (Well, maybe Yavanna - I've never really gotten vibes from her that she likes ANY of Eru's children because they use her precious plants to survive, though maybe she'd like the Hobbits.) I think it was more of a childish thought on the Valar's part. "Fëanáro will see one day, and he'll be sorry!" That sort of thing.

And I think the Valar didn't really see anything wrong with what they did until the Dagor Bragollach. They made the Sun and Moon, and Men came to be, so clearly everything was going fine. See, Fëanáro, the Valar didn't need to do anything so drastic like return to Endórë.

Of course, then everything else happened......

.... I find it very difficult to believe that the Valar wouldn't know about this. Námo and Vairë would, 100%. Varda, too - she sees everything. And Manwë hears everything, and he's clearly been listening to the goings-on in Endórë before. Ulmo also actively participates in what goes on in Beleriand. These five at least would know how bad it's gotten in Middle Earth.

It was around this time Turgon sent sailors to beg help from the Valar, mind you. All drowned to Ossë, save Voronwë, and Ulmo did nothing. And it can easily be argued that the only reason Ulmo didn't let Voronwë die was so that someone could take his pet Man to his pet Elf's city. Which I guess is better than nothing, at least.

I justify this with the Valar being petty but not malicious. I genuinely think that Manwë thought the Noldor would pray if they needed help. (Yes, he said to never call him again, and the Noldor probably DID pray in the beginning - especially Turgon's people - but Manwë ... doesn't exactly logic very well.)

Anyway, Eärendil would eventually show up, and let's say he didn't have the Silmaril?

At this point in time, the Valar would have no excuse. They would know exactly how bad it is in Middle Earth. And the fact that Eärendil is pleading for mercy for everyone - including the SoF - should have an impact. If they still refused to go against Morgoth because he didn't have a Silmaril, the Valar would not be good and moral. Maybe not quite as bad as Morgoth, but they wouldn't be far off.

.....

I wonder if Eärendil is one of those scenarios where you are so focused on an outcome - either to make it happen or to avoid it entirely - that it comes to pass through your own actions.

The Valar - or at least Námo, because we know at least he can see the future - saw Eärendil as the only way to save everything from Morgoth, and became so fixated on him that they inevitably created that future. "We have to bend the rules Ilúvatar made about marriage, or Eärendil won't come." "We can't get involved, or Eärendil won't come." "We need the Sons of Fëanáro to do these horrible things, or Eärendil won't come."

(I absolutely DESPISE this logic, but it's better than the "all is well in Valinórë; yea, Valinórë prospereth - all is well" logic the Valar show. At least it would mean one of the Valar was taking steps to fix things rather than ignore the problem in the hope of it going away.)

-----

There's also the fact that Melian herself told Thingollo to give up the Silmaril. She can see the future, and she'd know the hearts of the Valar. If she had even an inkling that they would reject Eärendil without the Silmaril, I don't think she'd suggest returning it to the SoF.

-----

I guess you can say "the Valar needed to see the Noldor had gotten over their prideful ways", but I still don't see how EÄRENDIL giving them a SILMARIL would do that. It wasn't his to give. It wasn't ELWING'S to give. Or Dior's. Or Thingollo's. Or Lúthien's. Or Beren's.

-----

TLDR

I think the argument that Beren, Lúthien, Thingollo, Dior, and Elwing needed to keep the Silmaril away from the SoF to save the world is complete and utter bs, and I'm not afraid to say it. There's no way the Valar are so cruel and heartless as to let all of Endórë die to Morgoth because they didn't get a Silmaril - that goes against everything that Tolkien believed of them. They're flawed, but they aren't (supposed to be) selfish enough to watch the world burn to prove their point.

I think the compassion Eärendil showed had more of an effect in changing the hearts of the Valar than the Silmaril.

#tolkien #tolkien legendarium #silmarillion #tolkien headcanons #Valar #Eärendil #Silmarils #My takes

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nomie-11 · 3 days ago

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Chapter 24 - The Double-Edged Dagger

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s nearly one o’clock in the afternoon when they approach Athebyne, stopping at the orders of the dragon, at a lake closest to the outpost so they can drink. The surface of the lake is smooth as glass, but the grass bordering the lake at the far side from where they stand is trampled, which means they’re not the first riot to rest here.

There are a total of ten dragons in all with them, and Genevieve only recognizes a few. It’s obvious that she, Liam, and Violet are the only first years in the group though, and for that reason, they all land next to each other on the border of the lake.

“You need to drink and probably eat something,” Genevieve sighs, stretching her arms up as she prepares to dismount. Seven straight hours in the saddle was killing her, and this time she really was fairing the worst, as Violet and Liam look nearly unaffected. Violet had the opportunity for extra hours in the saddle since the beginning of War Games, but Genevieve was ground-bound for the majority of that time.

“And you need to sleep,” Train replies. “You’ve been up all night.”

“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone all night without sleep and certainly won't be the last.” She shrugged, her shoulder popping with an awful clicking noise. She hap-hazardly slides down his foreleg, Liam catching her midway before easing her to the ground without a word.

“It’s strange to be beyond the wards,” Genevieve says, nodding a quick thank you at Liam before he heads over to Violet. The entire riot’s dragons are agitated, and Genevieve can feel this wrongness in the air that causes the hair to stand on the back of her neck.

“We’re twenty minutes out from Athebyne, so hydrate! We have no idea what kind of scenario is waiting for us, so rest up.” Xaden calls out, his voice carrying over the squad as Genevieve goes to where Liam and Violet stood, his hands on her shoulders as if he was gently massaging her.

“You doing alright?” He asks Genevieve, her own hand on her own shoulder because her shoulders hurt too, even if her boyfriend(?) needed to take care of other things.

Genevieve just shrugs at his question, firing it back at Violet. “Are you doing alright?”

“If I say I’m not sure, will you think less of me?” Genevieve would never think less of her for being honest with herself, especially since she was feeling exactly the same.

“I’d think you’re being honest.” Liam replies, running a hand over her hair.

Genevieve glances at Xaden, deep in conversation with Garrick. He looks back her way, their eyes locking for a second, and that's all it takes to remind her body that she had him naked above her a few hours ago. She takes a deep breath, masking her face with a base of professionalism.

“Keep looking at me like that and we’ll be stopped longer than a half hour.” he warns, not even shifting his glance to her.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” His head whips her way, and he actually gives her somewhat of a smile in a somewhat public setting, before turning back toward Garrick.

“You doing all right with whatever is going on there?” Liam asks, startling Genevieve out of her own thoughts.

“I think I want to be anywhere else than right here, right now.” Genevieve gives him the most truthful answer she could muster.

“I’d think you got yourself in over your head.” The look on his face is anything but teasing.

“For someone who said he owes Xaden everything, that’s not a glowing recommendation.” Fuck, her shoulder hurts so bad. “And I think I might already be dating him so too late, I guess.”

“You feeling all right?” Xaden asks, and Genevieve groans.

“My shoulder feels like it might fall off. Can people stop asking me that?” The last thing she wants is to be constantly reminded that something is wrong with her in comparison to everyone else.

“It’s not that.” Liam grimaces. “It’s just that I know his priorities.”

“Believe me,” Genevieve counters. “I know them too.” She hasn’t forgotten the fact that he had to ‘find out where her loyalties lie.’

Cue eye-roll.

“I’m really sorry you got dragged along on my account,” Genevieve says quietly so the others won't hear, but Violet does.

“I, for one, am very glad that you have been dragged along with Genevieve, because I’m always dragged along with Genevieve.” She says, turning around to face him. “Even if I think you should be at one of the midland posts with Dain, not being hauled past the wards. Colonel Aetos is a fair man, but I have no doubt this assignment is meant to ‘give the marked wingleader his due.’”

“I’m really not scared, no one is hauling me, and believe it or not, Violet, sometimes my orders don’t revolve solely around Genevieve. I do have other skills, you know,” He teases with a grin, flashing a dimple as he hip checks her.

“I never once forgot how amazing you are, Liam.” She tilts upwards, and Genevieve takes this as her cue to go.

Genevieve stands on her own, pacing the shore of the lake as Xaden walks away from Garrick, holding out his hand as he approaches.

Her eyebrows rise. There is no way he’s approaching her with the intention of holding her hand.

Xadens hand hovers in the air between them, and an unreadable expression on his face. Genevieve hesitates for just a second, unsure if this is some kind of test. Her brows furrow, but she doesn’t reach out. She’s not one for public displays, especially with the entire riot watching.

“What’s this about?” She asks him, her voice low, trying to read him. She feels the tension in her shoulders deepen.

He gives her that half-smile again, the one that makes her stomach twist in knots. “Just trust me,” he says, his voice softer than usual, but still with that edge of command she can never ignore.

Genevieve swallows her doubt and takes his hand. The moment their fingers touch, she feels a slight jolt of energy pass between them—whether from him or from her own nerves, she isn’t sure. He pulls her closer with a smooth, practiced motion, his other hand resting gently on her aching shoulder.

“Relax,” Xaden says, his voice now a whisper. “I can feel your tension from a mile away.”

“Kind of hard to relax when you’re making a scene,” she mutters, eyes darting around. But, despite herself, she allows him to repeat the motions she was jealously watching Liam play out with Violet. His large hand easing her extremely sore muscles. She notices Violet’s raised eyebrow and Liam’s knowing smirk, but neither of them say a word.

“None of them are going to say a single word about you—or us. I trust every single person here with my life,” he says, leading her toward a cluster of boulders on the far side of the lake. “Did you get enough to drink? Or eat?”

“I brought everything I needed in my pack. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Worrying about you is ninety-nine percent of what I do.” he watches as the tension slowly dissipates from her shoulders, and her fists unclench. “When we make it to the outpost, I want you to rest after we get our scenario objective. Liam and Violet will stay while I take the third years out to patrol.”

“I want to help,” She immediately protests. “You brought me because I’m the strongest. I can help.”

“You can, after you rest up. You have to be at full strength to wield your signet, or you’ll risk burning out.” Genevieve understands what he’s leaving unsaid. She’s been on the cusp of burnout two times, which is two times too many. No way she survives a third.

She nods, and doesn’t respond.

“Xaden!” She hears Liam yell, and all of a sudden he spins around so quickly, he’s a blur. Shadows wrap the entire scene, thick as a thundercloud. Genevieve can’t see shit.

Xaden just grabs her hand, and runs towards where they had heard Liam’s voice.

“Silly to hide what’s already been seen,” the woman says, her tone curt. “And if rumors are true, there’s only one silver-haired rider in your death factory of a college, which means that’s General Sorrengail’s youngest.”

“Fuck,” Xaden swears. Violet grips the dagger at her hip, sidestepping out from behind Liam so she can see the scene unfolding in front of her.

A pair of gryphon riders stands in the meadow about thirty feet away, their beasts eerily silent behind them. They’re about a third of a dragon, but those beaks and claws look just as capable of shredding skin and scale just the same.

“Tairn!” Genevieve calls out, and she knows Violet has called out for Astrape as well.

“Coming.”

“A fucking Sorrengail.” The woman looks only a few years older than them, but she looks like a veteran rider. She arches a dark brow, looking at Violet like she’s something that needs to be shoveled out of the horse stalls. The sound of beating wings fills the air as a handful of dragon riders barrel into the space around them. Bodhi, Imogen, and another third-year with a scarred lip Genevieve vaguely recognize. But no one is reaching for a weapon.

Thunder crackles in the sky.

“No!” Liam turns and hauls her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and pinning them to her sides.

“What are you doing?” She throws her weight against him, but Liam is too strong.

A gust of wind hits Genevieve’s side as Tairn lands, Astrape following suit.

“Holy shit, that one is huge,” the woman says. Around Liam’s immovable arm, Violet sees the riders retreat with quick steps, their eyes flying wide as they look up.

“Just stay here. Stay calm.” Xaden says to Genevieve, his eyes searching hers for an answer to a question she hasn’t asked. Then he nods at Bodhi who plants his hand firmly around her wrist, keeping her in place.

What the actual fuck is going on?

“Let. Me. Go,” Violet demands as Xaden strides toward the pair of gryphon riders, and Genevieve is in equal shock as Bodhi’s hand keeps her firmly gripped in place.

Fear squeezes her heart like a vise that he thinks he can take on the gryphons and their riders himself.

“I’m sorry Violet,” Liam apologizes, his voice lowering. “I really wish I could.”

Astrape roars from Violet’s right so hard that spit flies, smacking Liam in the face and making her ears ring. Liam drops his hands and backs away, slowly putting his palms up. “Got it. Point made. No touching.”

Free from Liam’s grip, Violet spins towards the field as Xaden reaches the riders.

“You’re fucking early,” he says.

Genevieve’s eyes narrow, each word from his lips hitting her like arrows. She knew he was smuggling weapons, but to gryphon riders? She’s never even seen a gryphon rider before. Dragons usually burn them to ash before a rider can get a good view.

“What happened to meeting tomorrow? We don’t have a full shipment,” Xaden says to the gryphon rider, his voice calm and even.

So this is why he wanted her to stay back? So he could go and do an illegal weapons deal without her knowing? She already knew he was smuggling weapons. She already knew. And yet he still needed to hide this?

“The shipment isn’t the issue,” the woman says, shaking her head.

Genevieve can practically see the gears in Violet’s head turning, piecing together the fact that these people she had been brought up to believe were traitors were actually a self-fulfilling prophecy of their heritage, a repeating cycle of betrayal.

“So you were waiting nearby to chat on the off chance that we’d fly by a full day early?” Xaden asks.

“We were patrolling from Draithus yesterday—it’s about an hour southeast from here—”

“I know where Draithus is,” Xaden retorts.

“Never know, you Navarrians act like nothing exists beyond your borders,” the male gryphon rider snarks. “I don’t know why we’re bothering to warn them.”

“Warn us?” Xaden cocks his head to the side.

“We lost a village in the vicinity to a horde of venin two days ago. They decimated everything.”

Genevieve’s eyes fly wide open. She just said what?

Violet and her share a glance. Venin. Holy shit.

That wasn’t a figment of her imagination, right?

“Venin never come this far west,” Imogen says from her left.

Venin. Oh my gods. Quinn. Oh my gods. There is not enough air in the world for Genevieve to breathe. Her chest heaves with every forceful breath.

“Until now,” the woman replies, turning her gaze back to Xaden. “They were unmistakably venin and had one of their–”

“Don’t say anything else,” Xaden interrupts. “You know that none of us can know the details or we put everything at risk. All it takes is one of us being interrogated.”

“Are you getting this?” Genevieve asks Tairn, glancing at Violet to see if anything else is catching the… nonsense spewing from the woman’s mouth, but everyone else looks horrified, like they actually believe that a village was destroyed by venin. But then again, apparently Quinn died by one.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Details or not, it looks like the horde is heading north,” the male says. “Straight toward our trading post on the border across from your garrison at Athebyne. Are you armed?’

“We’re armed.” Xaden admits.

“Then our job here is done. You’ve been warned,” the male says. “Now we have to go defend our people. As it is, this side trip only gives us about an hour to reach them in time.”

Instantly, the atmosphere changes. Xaden looks over his shoulder at Violet, briefly passing over Genevieve. His face is set in grim lines.

“General Hale’s daughter will be easy enough to convince, but if you think you’ll ever convince a Sorrengail to risk their neck for anyone outside their own borders, then you’re a fool,” the man says with a sneer in her direction.

The man leans down slightly and looks Violet up and down in obvious judgment. “I wonder what your king would be willing to pay in order to get back the daughter of his illustrious general. I’m willing to bet your ransom would be worth enough weapons to defend all of Draithus for a decade.”

Astrape snarls.

“Fuck,” Bodhi mutters, his grip tightening closer on Genevieve.

“Step away from her,” Genevieve hisses, her vines creeping up the man’s legs, thorns pricking his skin.

Shadows race menacingly from the pine trees on the edge of the meadow as Xaden raises his hands at his sides, and both gryphon riders tense when the darkness pauses only inches from their feet. “You take a step towards either of them and you'll be dead before you can even shift your weight,” Xaden says, his voice dropping lethally. He glances at Genevieve. “The Sorrengail is not up for discussion.”

The woman glances from the shadows to the vines, then sighs. “We’ll be there with the rest of our drift. Just signal if you can get away from the disbelievers.” she walks away, leading the man back toward their gryphons. They mount, and launch skyward.

The entire group is silent, shifting between Genevieve and Violet.

“Good luck, Riorson.” Imogen tucks a piece of her pink hair behind her ear as they all slowly follow Imogen back toward the lake. It’s just Liam, Violet, Xaden, Bodhi, and Genevieve left.

“Tairn.” She keeps her breathing steady, her emotions masked.

“Little soldier?” His giant head swivels in her direction.

“Venin. They’re real.” She tells him. “And everyone here knew.”

“Yes, they did.” He agrees, resignation in his tone.

“You knew all along.” She practically spits mentally. “You knew that Quinn died from a Venin and didn't tell me that they’re actually real? That the report I found was true?”

“I chose you for a reason.”

Genevieve’s breath comes fast, a whirwind of fury and anguish brewing in her chest. Her gaze flickers between Xaden and Tairn, desperation mingling with disbelief. Everyone knew. Everyone except her.

“But you knew.” Her voice breaks, trembling as she forces the word down Tairn’s pathway. Genevieve doesn’t dare meet Liam’s pitying gaze or acknowledge the unspoken apology written on his face. She doesn’t dare look at Violet, whose own betrayed face mirrors her for all different reasons. Her eyes are locked on Tairn instead, pleading for something—understanding, maybe. But the dragon’s cold, unyielding stare remains fixed straight ahead, his silent fury coiling tightly as if debating whether to incinerate Xaden on the spot.

“Dragons are bound by bods,” Train says, his voice steady, but Genevieve hears the tension, the weariness beneath it. “There is only one other bond more sacred than that of a dragon and its rider.”

A dragon and its mate. Everyone knew but her. Her stomach churns violently. Everyone knew that venin are real, Genevieve made the stupid decision of approaching the one other person kept in the dark when everyone else knew.

Vines explode from the earth without warning, surging towards Xaden.

“Tell me, Riorson,” Genevieve says, her voice a poisoned whisper. Her entire body shakes, barely containing the rage that’s been building in her since the moment she realized she was the only one who didn’t know. “How did Quinn die?”

Xaden’s eyes flicker to the vines that are now creeping toward him, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Oh shit.” Bodhi mutters, his hands coming up to grip his neck, watching the inevitable storm unfold before them.

“Gen, let me explain–” Xaden takes a step forward, but his movement is cut short as the vines twist up his legs, thick, black tendrils tightening around him like chains, squeezing his arms until he’s bound.

Genevieve doesn’t blink. Her voice is sharp as a blad when she hisses, “If you take another step toward me, I swear I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I think she means it,” Liam warns, his voice tight with tension.

Xaden’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching, but there’s no fear in him. “I know she does.” His gaze locks with hers. “Everybody back to the shore. Now.”

He tries to move, tries to come closer, but the vines only grow tighter, feeding on the fury that’s coursing through Genevieve’s veins.

“I know what you’re thinking—” Xaden starts, but Genevieve cuts him off.

“No, you don’t!” Her voice cracks, a sharp edge of panic lacing through her fury. A tree behind her shatters, black flowers blooming in the wake of her raw power. “How did Quinn die, Xaden? How?! Because Violet told me venin weren’t real. Violet lied to me. Everyone lied to me.”

“They are real,” Xaden admits softly, the weight of the truth dragging him down.

Genevieve laughs bitterly, the sound so hollow it hurts him to hear. “Oh, great. Perfect. Then tell me, how did Quinn die? Stop dodging the question.”

Xaden’s face hardens, shadows coiling around him like a second skin as the vines press tighter, drawing the first beads of blood from his flesh. But she doesn’t care. She’s too far gone for pity now.

“You know how Quinn died, Gen,” Xaden says, his voice a low growl. “It was during War Games my first year. It was a stupid, senseless fight, a petty—”

“Don’t give me that shit!” Genevieve snaps, her voice rising as her fury boils over. Flowers bloom underneath her feet, climbing up her as if they could protect her from the man standing across from her. “Don’t lie to me! You had her dagger, Xaden! You were there! You knew venin were real all along! You knew Quinn was killed by one, and you didn’t say anything! You let me believe—”

Her voice cracks, her pain growing too much to contain anymore. “I had to ask Violet how my own sister died, Xaden. Violet. A Sorrengail. She probably knew, too. Am I the only one who was left in the dark? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Xaden growls, the vines tightening as his muscles flex, struggling against them. “You were being interrogated by General Sorrengail every other week. You could have—”

“I didn’t tell her when I found out you were smuggling weapons out of Basgiath, did I?” She snarks, her tone venomous as she throws it back in his face.

Violet steps forward, her expression darkening with her own fury. “Believe me, Genevieve, I didn’t know either.” She hisses, her voice low, simmering with anger of her own as thunder crashes above them. “Did you ever actually love me?” Tears brim in her eyes as she snaps at Liam.

Genevieve’s hands shake as her power surges, the ground trembling beneath her feet. “I’m going to kill you, Xaden.” her voice is hollow now, the emotioned drained as her eyes narrow. “Tell me how Quinn died, or I swear to the gods, I’ll end this right here, right now. I have all the time in the world.”

And as the air between them crackles with tension, Xaden watches her—this girl who just moments ago was wrapped in his arms—transformed into someone he barely recognizes, consumed by grief and rage. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, she means every word.

Genevieve’s entire body trembles as her back presses up against Violet, and it feels like it's them against everyone else around them. Her pulse pounds in her ears, the hurt and betrayal bubbling up into a frantic crescendo she can barely contain. The vines that snake around Xaden pulse with her fury, but she can’t find it in herself to tighten them any closer, hurting him any further.

“But you knew,” she chokes, her voice raw, desperate. “You knew and you let me walk around in the dark, while my sister—” She stumbles, the words getting caught in her throat. “Quinn was out there fighting venin, and you—you just watched her die, didn’t you.”

Xaden, even under the crushing weight of the vines, keeps his gaze locked on her, regret flashing in his dark eyes. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He tries to speak, but she cuts him off, the air crackling with her power, with her pain.

“And don’t you dare look at me like that,” Genevieve spits, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. “Like you’re the one hurting here! Like you’re the victim! I’m the one who lost her sister. I’m the one who was lied to!” The air around her warps with her anguish, black petals scattering into the wind as more vines shoot from the earth. “I lied for you. I protected you. I kept your secrets—” she’s at a loss for half of a breath. “I loved you, Xaden.”

“Love!” he shouts, and Genevieve takes a step back, using her body to shield Violet from him as if his words could penetrate through her and hit someone she so desperately wanted to hide from all of this. “You love me.”

“I should’ve known,” she whispers, her voice cold and empty, void of anything but the bitter sting of betrayal. “Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

“Then what does that make you?” He fires back.

“I’m a traitor to myself!” Genevieve yells, her fist clenched so tightly it draws blood.

Liam takes a step forward, his arm outstretched as if he wants to pull Violet into a hug and whisper that everything would be all right, and that this was all a dream.

“If you dare to even try to touch my Sorrengail, I’ll snap your head clear off your neck, Mairi.”

Genevieve’s heart slams in her chest as her own words echo back at her. My Sorrengail. Her voice cracks under the pressure of it, and she feels a fresh wave of anger and self-loathing crash over her. When had she become so weak? When had she allowed herself to care this deeply, this stupidly, for Violet? For Xaden?

Betrayal laces every corner of her mind, but it’s not just directed at him anymore—it’s directed inward. How could I have let this happen? Her fists are bleeding and red, but no amount of pain seems to be enough to drown out the overwhelming sense of failure. She had prided herself on being strong, on keeping herself closed off, untouchable. But Xaden had slipped past her defenses. He had made her believe there was something more, something worth holding onto. And Violet had wormed her way into Genevieve’s heart so deeply, that even now, in the midst of this storm, all she wanted to do was shield her from the hurt.

“I betrayed myself,” Genevieve’s chest tightens at her own admission, the words hanging in the air like she’s driven a knife through her own heart. The true implications of her own feelings bear down on her, crushing her spirit even as her rage surges.

Her heart screams at her that this is wrong. That after everything, Violet should be the first person she should kick to the curb and that she should run into Xaden’s arms, and relish in the fact that her father didn’t die without cause, and the rebellion was alive. But Genevieve can’t help it. This weird, intertwining connection has grown like a vine between her and Violet, twisting itself into every part of her being until she doesn’t know where she ends and Violet begins.

A sob catches in her throat, but she chokes it down, burying it beneath the raw fury that still burns in her veins. She focuses on Xaden, the man who had once held her heart in his hands but had crushed it instead of protected it. The man who had known all along and said nothing, who had watched her stumble blindly in the darkness left in her sister’s death.

“I should’ve never let you in. I should’ve never let either of you in.” She repeats, her grip on Violet’s wrist ever tight, as even in repenting her sins of loving the harbinger of her pain’s daughter she can’t let her go.

Her eyes fall back on Xaden.

“I would’ve done anything for you had you just told me instead of lying to my face,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible as she meets his gaze. “And maybe that’s my biggest betrayal of all.”

The vines fall back from Xaden’s body, but Genevieve’s eyes remain tense, focused.

“I’m going to ask you one last time,” Her voice is low, a soft whisper that floats in the air like the snowflakes that had once fallen between them when the only emotion she harbored towards him was lust. “Tell me how Quinn died.”

—--------------------------------------------

When Xaden Riorson was a first year, the Wingleader of Fourth Wing was a 23 year old girl named Quinn Hale. Quinn, unlike Xaden, didn’t have a rebellion relic, but like Xaden, was the daughter of a leader of the Tyrrish Rebellion. When he first crossed the parapet, she took one look at him, and immediately took him under her wing.

Quinn knew everything about everyone. She was a genius, and her signet, Truth-Sayer, made her a force to be reckoned with. She was practically unstoppable, and Xaden thought she was the coolest person alive.

She had the uncanny ability to read people, picking up on their fears, desires, and motivations with unnerving precision. It was a trait that made her a fierce leader but also kept people at a cautious distance.

To Xaden—Quinn was a mentor, but she was also a symbol of strength and survival—someone who had faced the same scars as he did but found a way to lead without being consumed by them. There were moments when he saw a flash of something else in her—sadness, perhaps even regret—but those moments were fleeting, gone as soon as they appeared.

It wasn’t until midway through the year that Xaden learned the full extent of Quinn’s burdens. She wasn’t just the Wingleader because of her skill and power, but because she had borne the brunt of the academy’s hidden cost. Quinn Hale had crunched the numbers, done the math, and been to the border enough times to know something else was going on beyond the wards.

Quinn Hale was the first rider cadet to know about Venin.

But she never said a single word to anyone—except Xaden.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the training grounds, Xaden found himself alone with Quinn on the roof, a habit he had learned to form ever since Quinn had started to train him. The air was thick with the tensions she had, and he could sense that there was something weighing heavily on her.

“Xaden,” she began, her voice low, almost hesitant. “You know there are things we don’t talk about here, things we pretend don’t exist.” She turned her gaze to the distant mountains, the ones in the direction of Aretia. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”

He swallowed hard, the gravity of her words pressing down on him.

“What do you mean?”

Quinn hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her embellished dagger. “The rebellion isn’t dead,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “The rebellion isn’t dead and there are Venin on the borders.”

Xaden froze at her words, his mind racing. Venin. Venin were scary stories his father used to tell him when he wouldn’t eat his vegetables, they were myths, boogeymen meant to scare young children. He had been sheltered from the rebellion as a teenager, kept at arm's length until it had forced him to grow up too fast. But now Quinn Hale was telling him everything his father had told him was all real, and still alive.

“You’ve seen them?” he asked, his voice tight with disbelief.

Quinn nodded, her face set in a grim line. “I’ve seen enough. I’ve been to the border, past farther than the wards and back in Aretia. I’ve watched the way soldiers disappear, how some of them come back changed. And I’ve felt it.” she placed a hand on her chest, as if she could feel the truth of it inside her. “My signet, it doesn’t just reveal lies, Xaden. It forces people to tell the truth, it reveals everything—things people don’t even know they’re hiding from themselves. And the truth is, the rebellion never ceased. I’ve been talking with them… about you.”

Xaden’s throat tightened. He had always seen Quinn as unshakable, invisible even. But now, looking at her, he saw the burdens. He wanted to ask why she hadn’t told anyone—why she was confiding in him now. But he already knew the answer. The academy wasn’t a place of trust. Even here, among their own, people could be watching, listening. No one was truly safe.

“Why tell me?” he asked, his voice quieter, laced with caution he hadn’t felt before.

Quinn met his eyes, and for a moment, the mask she wore for everyone else slipped. There was fear there—real, tangible fear. “Because I see the same fight in you that I see in myself. You’re not here just to survive, Xaden. You want more than that. You want to win.” She paused, her jaw clenching. “And because the leadership knows that I know what I know, they’re going to kill me. Someone needs to fill my footsteps and you need—”

“Don’t say that,” Xaden interrupted, his heart pounding. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

But she shook her head, her expression hardening again. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” She turned away, looking back out at the mountain range they had once called home. “There are things in this world bigger than you and me. Bigger than all of us. And if I die, someone needs to replace me. That someone is you.”

And Quinn was right.

In the next few months, she narrowly dodged death in Squad Battle, challenges, and patrols time and time again. Until she could no longer run anymore. War Games had come to end her.

Quinn Hale’s death was swift, sudden, and brutal.

Xaden had seen the signs—the quiet glances she exchanged with her closest friends, the exhaustion that seemed to dampen her once indomitable presence, the way her voice had lost some of its earlier fire when she commanded. She was still brilliant, still a force to be reckoned with, but something inside her had shifted after that conversation on the rooftop. Quinn had made peace with her fate long before it arrived, and made due to tie up her loose ends, and that acceptance had made her reckless.

It was the last battle of War Games when it happened.

The sky was choked with the dust of battle, the clash of dragons echoing in the distance. Fourth Wing was locked in an intense skirmish with Third Wing on the border of the barrens when Quinn, Xaden, Garrick, and two other third years that Quinn were close with were separated from the rest of the wing.

Everything was chaos, as it always was during War Games, but Xaden had his eyes on Quinn. He watched her, his heart pounding in his chest as her dragon soared above the battlefield, flames licking the edges of her enemy’s wings.

And then—out of the corner of his eyes—a shadow moved.

Venin.

Xaden’s breath caught in his throat as the dark figure emerged from the shadows, moving with impossible speed through the battlefield. The Venin—a creature that he could have never imagined to be real not even six years ago—was real, and it was headed straight for Quinn.

He shouted, his voice lost in the cacophony of battle, as Quinn’s dragon banked sharply, unaware of the danger that loomed beneath. In that moment, Xaden’s mind raced. He was not weak, not by any means, but he was a first year, and there’s only so much you can do with so little experience. He could barely comprehend the raw power emanating from the creature—its presence alone was suffocating, a twisted darkness that made the air feel thick and impossible to breathe. The venin’s form was monstrous, vaguely humanoid but distorted, its red eyes glowing with a sickening light.

Quinn didn’t notice until it was too late.

Her dragon couldn’t react fast enough. The Venin raised its hand, dark energy coiling around its fingers, and in an instant, it unleashed a devastating blast. Ilona screamed, her wings faltering as the dark magic struck her, sending her crashing into the ground.

Quinn was thrown from her seat, her body twisting in the air as she fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Xaden’s heart dropped as he watched her struggle to stand, blood trailing from a gash on her forehead. He urged Sgaeyl to dive, to get her before the Venin could strike again, but they were too far.

The Venin advanced on Quinn, its movements slow and deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Xaden shouted her name again, but Quinn didn’t turn. She was already pulling herself to her feet, blood dripping from a gash in her head. Even in her weakened state, she looked defiant. She raised her hand, and her dragon blew flames in a constant, focused stream.

It erupted from the dragon like a shockwave, the fire slamming into the Venin. For a moment, it stumbled, its form flickering as the potential fragility of its existence was laid out bare. But it wasn’t enough. The venin recovered quickly as if it was never even touched, snarling as it pressed forward. The dragon fire was potent, but the flames were not enough. It couldn’t destroy the creature.

Xaden reached for his sword, his dragon pushing harder toward the ground, but he knew—he knew they weren’t going to make it in time.

Quinn’s eyes met his from across the battlefield, and in that split second, Xaden saw everything she’d been hiding. The fear, the regret, the knowledge that this was how it ended. She had been right all along. She had known this was coming.

With a final cry, Quinn drew her dagger and rushed at the Venin. It was a suicide charge, and she knew it, but she didn’t hesitate.

The Venin struck first.

It's dark energy wrapped around her, and for the briefest moment, Quinn’s body went rigid. She gasped, her eyes wide with shock and pain as her body separated from the life of the earth, and then—just as quickly—she collapsed. The Venin withdrew its power, leaving Quinn crumpled on the ground.

Xaden’s scream ripped through the air as Sgaeyl finally reached the ground. He leaped from her back, rushing to where Quinn lay motionless, his heart pounded in his chest, every muscle screaming for him to move faster.

But when he reached her, he knew.

Quinn Hale was gone.

Xaden fell to his knees beside her, his breath ragged as he gently turned her over. Her eyes were still open, staring blankly at the sky, and her lips were parted as if she had been about to say something. His hands shook as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his chest tight with grief and rage.

He had lost her. The one person who looked at him like he was someone beyond Fen Riorson’s son.

The Venin was gone, disappearing as quickly as it had arrived, leaving nothing but death in its wake.

Quinn Hale, the unstoppable Wingleader, the genius, the one person who had understood him—who had seen something in him—was dead.

Xaden clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as the weight of it all crashed over him. His mentor, his friend, the woman who had believed in him when no one else had—she was gone. And the leadership, the ones she had warned him about, had allowed it to happen. They had known.

The rebellion wasn’t dead. And now, neither was his resolve.

As he stood, the battle still raging around him, Xaden’s eye caught the hilt of her dagger, half buried in the dirt.

His fingers curled around the hilt of Quinn’s danger, red rubies and vines grounding him in the chaos. The metal was cool, dead, as if it had forgotten every moment she had fought and survived. But now, it was just a reminder of everything that had been taken from him. From them.

The rebellion wasn’t dead.

Her words echoed in his mind, louder now in the face of her absence, an undeniable truth that settled into his bones. He’d watched her lead, seen her fight, and witnessed her determination to carry a burden no one else understood. She had taken him under her wing because she knew—she saw—the rebellion wasn’t over. She had been preparing him to carry it forward.

And now, it was his.

Xaden’s heart pounded in his chest as he rose to his feet, Quinn’s dagger clenched tightly in his fist. The rebellion wasn’t just an idea, or a legacy tied to his father’s name. It was living, breathing, and it was his now. He had been standing on the sidelines, fighting to survive. But survival wasn’t enough anymore. He understood what Quinn had seen in him: the hunger, the anger, the need for justice. She had given him the tools to carry on the fight.

The rebellion was his.

He could feel it in the way the world shifted beneath him, in the way the air thickened with the promise of something darker and more dangerous than anyone could fathom. The leadership had known about the Venin, had known about the dangers, and sent Quinn to her death. They had let them all believe they were safe, and that the threat was gryphons, when the real threat was so much worse.

Xaden’s grip tightened around the dagger as he turned his gaze toward the battlefield, toward the chaos Quinn had left behind. He would finish what she had started. What his father had started. Not for vengeance, but for the truth. For the rebellion. For the future that she had fought for.

He mounted Sgaeyl, the weight of Quinn’s loss heavy on his shoulders, but the fire in his chest burned brighter than ever.

The rebellion was his now. And he would burn the world down before he let it die again.

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Hey everyone!! Chapter 24 finally brings the real drama (genevieve 'hating' xaden because lets be for real she doesn't hate him lol)! this was a fun chapter, in my opinion at least, so I hope you all liked it.

Also, what do we think about Quinn's backstory? I would just like to point out that the only reason Genevieve and Xaden really met in the first place all the way back in like chapter 2-3 is because Xaden got into the habit of watching the sunrise on the roof from Quinn (sobbing).

i did some pretty cool things this week - last sunday I saw seventeen, and then i got accepted into a uni on monday, then did halloween on thursday and went to a wave to earth concert yesterday, so not much writing, but I will be back on my grind writing book two this week!

anyways, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo, and I'll see you all on wednesday!!

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97

#violet sorrengail #fourth wing #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #liam mairi #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #garrick tavis x reader #liam mairi x reader #the empyrean #the wounded healer

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oliviasroses19 · 2 days ago

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Just thinking about how happy I am that we got a more complex, deeper friendship with show!polin. I did enjoy the book, don’t get me wrong. But at the start, book!polin was pretty one sided on Penelope’s part. We know she loves Colin literally from the first page, but Penelope was what feels like an afterthought for Colin. It’s only when he returns from his tour and spends more time with her that he starts seeing her as a friend. He said it himself, they were acquaintances, and only more recently does he consider them being friends. He went from liking her company to Colin “my wife” Bridgerton real quick (this form of Colin exists in both bridgerton universes, thank GOD). Their story feels more like acquaintances to lovers in my opinion.

What makes show!Polin so magical, and I’m sure is the true reason for the choke hold they have on us, is the fact that we got to see their history as childhood friends develop to best friends and then to lovers. We can see the love Pen has for Colin from the start, and while he hasn’t come to his senses yet, he clearly adores her in the beginning as well.

Then we have the letters. My dear, sweet, completely inappropriate letters (only in regard to the lack of propriety). Yet another contrast between show and book Polin. Their letters truly fortify their friendship to the viewer and add even more magic to their story. Penelope is eager to talk to the man she loves and she is elated that he wants to talk to her too. And Colin gets the space to be himself in these letters. Penelope has never once made him feel silly for his rambling about the places he’s visiting while his family doesn’t shy away from brushing him off or chastising him for talking about his travels. He knows that there is at least one person back home that is excited to hear from him. His heartache confusion over not hearing from her on his second tour only solidifies how dear her letters and friendship are to him. Penelope plays such a large part in his life, he spirals when he thinks he lost her friendship. “Is there something wrong, Pen? Between us, I mean” gets me every time 😭.

We see the yearning from Pen for two seasons, see her protect and love Colin in secret, and heartbreakingly see her give up hope that he will ever love her in that way. We also get to see Colin look for her at every social assembly, protect Pen multiple times, and when he FINALLY realizes his feelings aren’t completely platonic, we see his own yearning. This makes the entire journey all the more gratifying for the viewer.

I can’t believe it sometimes that we finally made it. We got our Polin endgame. It’s been a long few years but those years just made the reward all the more incredible. The boost of serotonin I get watching them finally end up together is truly unmatched and hasn’t diminished no matter the amount of rewatches/GIFs/fan edits I see.

It’s been 6 months and not a day has gone by that i haven’t thought about my babies finally getting their happily ever after. I cannot, will not, do not want to give up the choke hold these two have on me.

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This post ran away from me but are we really surprised? Thanks for letting me dump out the contents of my brain, y’all are real ones.

#polin #polin meta #polin ramble #bridgerton #Polin analysis #polin brainrot #never leaving this restaurant #this post got away from me #sorry not sorry #bridgerton show #bridgerton books #polination

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yanderes-galore · 3 days ago

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Yandere strawhats hcs with a reader who won’t succumb to stockholm syndrome who’s fighting to get back home to her island. ( if that’s to much maybe just Nami and Luffy please if that’s ok with you ? )

I decided to do separate HCs/reactions as I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted? Hope you enjoy ^^; I wanted to do a section for Usopp, Zoro, and Sanji... but you probably meant the entire crew so I stuck to the two you said.

Sorry these are short! I focused on reactions

Yandere! Nami + Luffy with Darling resisting

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Stockholm syndrome, Isolation, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Delusional behavior, Forced companionship/relationship.

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy probably doesn't even do Stockholm Syndrome on purpose.

Let alone really know about it much (To my knowledge?)?

I mean... He wishes you'd stop fighting, yes.

Although he prefers to see you stop fighting him like you're willingly complying to his care.

In reality, he's accidentally broken you mentally.

He definitely doesn't understand what he did.

Although if he did, there would be some guilt.

Like I've stated in previous Luffy works, he's oblivious to his actions.

No matter how invasive.

He doesn't get why you fight him.

You keep saying you didn't want to come with them, that you didn't want to travel.

You keep saying you miss home.

Yet Luffy doesn't know why?

Wasn't life on your island boring?

When his crew stayed there for a couple days, you seemed to get along fine with him.

But now you're all upset?

Luffy may even think you're sick, bringing you to Chopper to have you checked.

In reality, you aren't the sick one.

It's either just Luffy... or the entire crew.

Luffy breaks you due to being oblivious, dragging you along with him on adventures as you slowly lose hope.

He's just so clingy and insists on you staying at the ship.

He always wants your attention, often claiming the rest of the crew care about you.

So why do you keep running off?

Luffy has had shipmates run off on him.

More often than you'd think, actually....

He may just think you have some sort of issue he needs to help resolve like the rest!

You're trying to run and find help on an island, maybe some way to home.

Only for Luffy to be around looking for you, claiming to others you're just a bit... sick.

He isn't entirely lying.

Luffy just thinks you want to go home because you're ill and need rest on the boat.

Completely ignoring the fact he dragged you on the ship to make you a new member of the crew... against your better judgment.

Luffy refuses to acknowledge your feelings on the matter most of the time, making you upset.

Why would he?

He's showing you adventure and companionship!

He wants you to be there as he becomes King of The Pirates!

He can't seem to let you go and just doesn't understand your escape attempts.

Eventually, unfortunately, you may end up succumbing at some point.

Soon you'll realize it's fruitless, that Luffy will never see reason.

Especially when he tells you, a runway woman, that you're a pirate just like him!

Which only turns people away or makes you targeted.

Fighting just becomes... tiring.

The moment you give in and help the crew, giving up and maybe even helping Luffy out of danger...

That's when he gives a wide grin, finally realizing you're no longer sick!

He praises you, all excited.

In a way you even begin to love and care for him in your own way once it's forced into you.

Now you can adventure with the crew properly... and he'll NEVER leave your side!

Nami

Nami is someone who's more aware of Stockholm syndrome.

Although at first I feel she'd be against it.

She understands your want to escape, especially if the whole crew is obsessive.

In fact, it reminds her of her own past at times.

Not EXACTLY of course, but the want to escape and feeling imprisoned?

She understands that.

That would be why she's hesitant about it or is very sympathetic.

I imagine if the whole crew was obsessive over this one woman, Nami would at first seem comforting.

She's sympathetic and caring, even if you keep trying to escape.

Although your attempts REALLY get on her nerves.

Nami is shown to view the crew as family.

Which means she views you as family.

While she isn't oblivious to what her actions will accomplish, she can't bring herself to let you go.

She tries hard to make you feel welcome and cared for on the ship.

You're both women so surely you should feel better now that you have female company, right.

Unfortunately, no, you still run away whenever you can.

You keep trying to ask others for help, claiming the Strawhats are kidnappers.

Yet, Nami knows how to swing the odds in her favor with words.

She's used to manipulating people.

So Nami may just retrieve you by saying you're overwhelmed, that you two are close and you're always like this.

She does it all with a smile even if she's laying, dragging you back to the crew as she scolds you.

Nami is both the most understanding yet also strict with you.

Her biggest fear is her family being torn apart since the lost her family once already.

Which drives her to force you by her side and even coddle you at times.

She tries to show vulnerability towards you, she tries to show you she loves you.

Yet you keep trying to leave.

Eventually Nami may convince you against fleeing by locking you in the boat, probably in the sleeping quarters.

She can be tolerant...but she can also be easily annoyed.

You plead with her to let you go home, that you miss your home!

Yet Nami seems like the type of yandere to just grin while she pulls you closer with a sigh...

Then she tells you the ship and the crew on it are your home and family.

This is where you belong.

This is where you need to be.

Then she'll just hug you, mumbling about how you need to move on from the past.

It's heartbreaking, you thought Nami would help you get out of this situation.

Unfortunately, she doesn't...

Which makes you lose hope since she seems the most... rational.

Eventually, when you break down due to feeling hopeless and isolated...

Nami's there to comfort you.

She tells you over and over again she cares... she loves you...

You can trust her, she's family.

While you don't want to... she and the rest of the crew is all you have...

This makes you give up... and maybe even love her in return...

Which makes her adore you even more now that you've given in.

#yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #yandere monkey d luffy #yandere luffy #yandere nami

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foureyedfella · 2 days ago

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☆ Alright I couldn't help myself I drew headcanon stuff now 💀

☆ So, believe me, I understand that this is like a huge jump- like it should just be an AU and not headcanon but I honestly just kind of see this in Joe so I'm sorry I'm advance 😭 but anyways I've been thinking about Joe's early life/career

☆ I like to think that in the begining of his boxing career he did end up meeting someone, who liked him for who he was outside of the ring! After like 2 years of meeting and dating, they get married :P

☆ Over time, Joe would get more passionate in his boxing career, which Valérie is supportive of, but she just suggests finding a balance between his life and boxing! Joe acknowledged this and tried to not zone in too hard

☆ Unfortunately as time goes on this mindset starts to drop a bit, and Joe is wrapped up in boxing to a considerable degree again

☆ They have minor arguments about this, with both sides not necessarily being wrong which just caused more of a negative debate-

☆ It gets to a point where after some years, Valérie is not having it and gives him the ultimatum: either her or boxing

☆ Joe thought it was a fib 😭😭😭

☆ After a match, he comes home to silence, the silence of his empty home being amplified 10 fold when in comparison to the boxing ring.

☆ reality doesn't quite hit him just yet, and he just waits in the living room, waiting for her to come back through the doors. Couple minutes turn to hours, hours turns into a day. Just himself and his thoughts

☆ Safe to say that reality hit him like a truck soon after, and he was in shambles 😭 his brain just flipped, he would skip training, ignored messages from the WVBA, was just not having it. He would sometimes just sit back in the same spot in the living room from when he first waited for her. Maybe that would be the day she came back, who knows what he was thinking

☆ He was just slowly falling apart, he developed insomnia from the situation and fell into a depression

☆ Like no one had contact with him, he rarely left the house and cut off the WVBA entirely, and seeing as he didn't ever feel involved with anyone else in the first place, it just made him sink into a deeper hole of feeling like he genuinely had nothing at that point

☆ What he wasn't expecting was some of the boxers to show up at his doorstep (they definitely did NOT illegally take Joe's information from the WVBA not at alllllll) who, to his surprise, were actually concerned 😭

☆ Bear Hugger, Bald Bull and Von Kaiser (reluctantly brought because of bear hugger (bro is not a people person)) showed up, and were NOT expecting that giddy ass goofball to be in the state they found him in 😭

☆ This honestly was incredibly beneficial to Joe, who just felt at his lowest. He never told them the specifics of the situation (and to this day hasn't told Bull and Bear Hugger, or anyone but Kaiser) and just explained that he was dealing with something that made him think he should quit boxing altogether. They spent a good chunk of time building up his morale to not give up and to keep going at it!

☆ They left that day exchanging info, with them giving Joe messages daily to get back on his feet and come back again soon. It slowly gave him his footing and after a bit, he would go out again, watch the other boxer's matches.

☆ When he himself finally stepped back into the game, the ruckus from Bear Hugger was honestly nutty 💀 the reception to his return was so positive and it just really helped support him and bring back that dork that first joined the ring ^_^

☆ alright I'll leave that as is for now before I go into a ramble, and like I said this is a huge leap but I appreciate it if you stuck around! :D

#punchout #punch out #glass joe #bro actually fumbled the bag

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rheanyraaaa · 17 hours ago

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Water Lilly (Part 2)

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader (F)

Enemies To Lovers

Summary: Y/N Frey, is the youngest daughter of Walder Frey, here she converses with her newly wed Husband and learns her place as his wife and what she believes is a burden.

note: i’m mostly building for now, introducing you to OC’s and now we have proper conversations w Robb.

edit: lmao forgot i was writing an enemies to lovers. dw enemies will be more prevalent.

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The tent walls flapped with the bitter wind as Y/N sat alone in her quarters, huddled under furs. Outside, the camp bustled with activity; soldiers shouted orders, horses’ hooves stamped against frozen ground, and the clanging of swords echoed under a dim, cloudy sky. Robb’s army had pitched camp farther south, closer to the front lines, and the distant drums of war thrummed in the air. Yet within her tent, there was only the stillness, heavy as stone.

A month into this marriage, and she was still a stranger to her husband. They exchanged polite greetings when they crossed paths the occasional nod, a formal “Good morning, my lady,” or a brief “Sleep well” but those words felt thin, like brittle ice that would shatter under any real weight. Robb spent most of his time with the troops, strategizing and commanding. Or with Talisa.

The knowledge of his mistress had stung more than you cared to admit. Talisa Maegyr, the beautiful healer from Volantis, had captivated him from the first day. Word of Robb’s infidelity swept through camp like wildfire, as gossip does, leaving Irene feeling raw and humiliated. Robb’s nights were spent not in her tent, but in Talisa’s, the two of them wrapped in a warmth and intimacy that he’d offer only a glimpse off during your bedding ceremony.

You took a slow breath, pressing a hand to your stomach. You hadn’t felt well for days, your body unsteady, your appetite faint, but it had only been that morning that she recognized what the faint ache in her stomach truly meant. She was carrying Robb’s child their child, and a quick trip with the Maester confirmed all suspicions.

A swell of fear rose within you, twisting with sorrow. She was alone, and Robb Stark did not love you. And now you would have a child, an heir to the North, though you had never felt so far from it. The world outside was dangerous and bloody, and you had no certainty that Robb would even care to claim the child they had created together.

A sound at the entrance broke Y/N’s thoughts. Her guard, Ser Alec, stepped inside, his tanned face etched with concern as he regarded her. He was a tall, steady presence, his dark Dorneish eyes sharp and warm with familiarity. Alec had been by her side since her childhood, always a loyal protector and one of the few friends she truly had left.

“My lady,” he said, bowing his head slightly, “you look… troubled. Are you well?”

You force a small smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Alec, I’ve been better.”

He steps closer, his gaze softening, the warmth in his eyes the closest thing to comfort you’ve felt in weeks. “Tell me,” he says gently.

Your breath trembles as you meet his gaze, and words begin to spill out, unbidden and raw. “I feel… alone here. Trapped, really.” You draw in a sharp breath, pressing a hand to your stomach almost without thinking. “I’ve found myself with child, Alec.”

His expression flickers with surprise, then with understanding, a deep compassion softening the sharp edges of his face. “A child?” he murmurs. He reaches out, hesitates, then gently takes your hand. “That’s wonderful news, my lady,” he says, though you can see the worry flickering in his eyes.

“It is,” you whisper, trying to hold back the wave of conflicting emotions. “And yet, I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. Robb barely acknowledges me. He lies in Talisa’s bed every night as if I were nothing more than… than a treaty.” You feel your voice falter, and you close your eyes, willing yourself to stay composed. “How am I meant to raise a child when its father is… is barely even mine?”

Ser Alec’s face darkens, his mouth tightening. “He is a fool, my lady. A fool to treat you like this. You deserve more than cold greetings and a hollow bed.”

You glance down, hiding the blush that rises in your cheeks. Ser Alec’s words have always been kind. When you look back up, he’s still holding your hand, his expression a mixture of concern and fierce loyalty.

“Thank you, Alec,” you whisper, voice catching. He is something solid in a world of chaos. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Just then, a sharp voice cuts through the quiet of the tent. “Am I interrupting?”

You both turn to find Robb standing in the entrance, his gaze icy and unreadable, taking in the scene with a slight clench to his jaw. You quickly pull your hand back from Alec’s, stepping back.

Alec bows his head to Robb, stepping away from you but keeping his posture respectful. “My lord,” he says, voice calm but cool. “I was only ensuring the lady’s well-being.”

“Thank you, Ser Alec,” Robb says, his tone laced with an edge. “I can take care of my wife from here.”

Alec’s eyes meet yours, a question lingering there, as if asking whether you truly wish to be left alone. But you nod faintly, trying to reassure him even as unease twists within you. With a stiff bow, Alec murmurs, “My lady,” before stepping past Robb and out of the tent, leaving you alone with your husband.

For a moment, there’s only silence between you and Robb, the tension thick as frost on a winter morning. He doesn’t approach you immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, his mouth set in a hard line.

After a moment, he breaks the silence, his tone cold and laced with a hint of accusation. “You seem… well-guarded,” he says, the words sharp enough to sting. “I hope Ser Alec isn’t needed for more than what’s expected of him.”

You take a slow, steadying breath, willing yourself not to snap. “Alec has been with me since I was a child,” you reply, your voice soft but firm. “He’s my friend, Robb. Nothing more.”

Robb nods, but the jealousy remains evident in the hard lines of his expression. The silence stretches again, heavy and uncomfortable, until you feel the weight of the words you must say pressing on you, desperate to be released.

“Robb…” You hesitate, unsure how he will take the news. But this is not something you can keep to yourself, nor something you should. “I’m with child.”

His face shifts, a flicker of surprise breaking through his cold exterior, followed quickly by something softer, almost hesitant. The hardness in his gaze melts as he processes the news, and he swallows, his jaw relaxing. Slowly, the hint of a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, tentative, almost vulnerable.

“A child?” he echoes, his voice quiet, as though testing the word on his tongue.

You nod, and for a brief moment, you see the young man beneath the weight of command, the boy who perhaps dreamed of family, of something beyond the battlefield. He steps forward, his hand hovering near your stomach as though he’s unsure if he should touch you.

When you nod again, he gently places his hand on your belly, the warmth of his palm sinking through the fabric of your gown. His gaze softens further, his fingers resting lightly, reverently, as if afraid the slightest pressure would break the fragile moment.

“A son… or a daughter,” he says quietly, his voice edged with wonder. “Ours.”

You watch him, studying the flickers of emotion crossing his face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this unguarded, stripped of the command and the anger, and for a heartbeat, you feel a swell of hope. Perhaps this child could be a bridge between you, a chance to bring you closer to him, to soften the wall that’s grown between you since the day you wed.

But as quickly as it appeared, his expression fades, and the coldness slips back over him like a familiar cloak. He removes his hand, his face hardening with the weight of duty and the responsibilities that loom over him.

“You’ll be well cared for, of course,” he says, stepping back and folding his arms. “Anything you need, you’ll have it.”

A pang of disappointment settles in your chest, but you manage a nod. “Thank you, my lord.”

He lingers a moment longer, as if wanting to say more, but then turns sharply and strides toward the tent’s exit. Just before he leaves, he glances back, his expression caught somewhere between duty and regret.

“Rest well, Irene,” he murmurs, his voice gentler than before. Then, without another word, he’s gone, leaving you alone once again, with only the ghost of his touch on your belly and the faint hope that someday he might see you as something more than his silent bride.

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Tags!!! (Tell me if you want to be tagged)

@samieree @maysileeewrites

#asoiaf #robb stark #robb stark imagines #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x frey reader

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