#but alas—this is my current emotional state

[pearlcaddy]

I’m at that stage of homesickness where I came across one of those kitschy LA tourist shirts at TK Maxx and almost burst into tears.

[catscidr]

Could you make a scenario with sick reader and Yandere doctor please 😭

need him to walk into my room in a nurse outfit and take care of me when i get sick... but Alas he's not real... woe is me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)..... WHATEVER i can always write about him anyways so im WINNING EITHER WAY...... (inhales copium) ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: yandere dottore, he's a little overbearing, reader has a cold. that's pretty much it (lmk if i missed anything!) includes: gn reader, dottore, iota (youngest segment) wc: 1,3k

Ooohhhh he would be mad. Not in an explosive way, but in a “I’m not mad, just disappointed” way except he IS mad, he’s just really good at keeping his emotions under wraps. You know this, too. He made sure that you did. 

It didn’t matter what kind of illness you came down with; a common cold, the flu, something worse? He’s freakishly good at reading you, and he didn’t need to hear you blowing your nose or sniffling every other second to know you had gotten sick. The skin around your nose blossoming into a darker, reddish tone and your eyelids drooping just a bit lower than usual was enough for him to know you weren’t telling him something you should have. 

It also didn’t matter if you didn’t even see him- he had eyes everywhere, quite literally. It was rare for you to be anywhere in the palace or the lab without one of his clones attached to your hip, whether it be a younger clone tagging along to do something more interesting than breaking open a ruin guard, or an older clone staying by your side, taking a break from work to enjoy your company. 

So, of course, even if the doctor happened to be especially busy when you suddenly caught a cold, you’d still be stuck with him being the equivalent to a mother hen because of how seriously he took your health. 

Usually you didn’t mind his attention, you’d even bask in it, but this time you couldn’t stand it. Your state had been manageable for the past two days and, thankfully, Prime and his clones were none the wiser to your nose overproducing snot nor the way your eyes had more crust around them when you woke up in the morning. But you feared that today would be the day he’d catch you and promote you to being his bedwarmer- literally. Last time you got sick and went to him for help you felt like you were in urgent care, forced to stay in his bed, having at least two of his segments stay with you 24/7, making you eat four meals a day despite your lack of appetite and desperate need for sleep. 

You could insist all you want that you were fine, that you just needed to vegetate in bed for a day or two and you’d be back on your feet in no time, but no, he refused to have any of it. He’d ask who’s the doctor here? in the same condescending voice he used whenever one of his lackeys displeased him (and you’d reply with you didn’t even graduate if you weren’t so tired), and then would throw you over his shoulder to bring you to his spotless bedroom so you could rest while he keeps an eye on you.

The one thing you were happy about was how Dottore wasn’t prone to blatant violence. Nothing physical, at least. When needed, he would slip medication into your water to help you sleep, would graciously lift your sleeve to give you a shot while you were knocked out cold and give you special medicine to make sure you had all the vitamins you needed. He wouldn’t do any of that if you had cooperated with him in the first place, though; so, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. At least not for long. 

Like clockwork, you were currently going through that same order of events. 

In retrospect, it was a bad idea to indulge Iota and go out in the snow to make a snowman with him- but how could you resist him! The lab could feel so stuffy as it was, and the additional smell of blood covered up by strong cleaning agents only did so little to help you resist his pleas. So, you grabbed Dottore’s Harbinger coat and got yourself dragged outside by the small but mighty youngest segment as he eagerly talked your ear off about having a snowball fight, making a myriad of snow angels and other winter activities you weren’t familiar with. 

After getting absolutely pelted with snow (Iota was good at snowball fights, surprisingly) you hung up Dottore’s coat to dry and made your way to the bathroom to wipe off any snow and water that had gotten on your skin despite the large, fluffy cloak you wore. Iota waved you off with a boyish grin and a taunting better luck next time! as you watched him saunter off into the direction of his creator’s lab. Your fingertips felt cold but as you dried your skin thoroughly you felt your body gradually warm up, and that was enough for your standards. 

Placing the towel on a rack to dry, you then headed over to your room to relax your aching muscles after the remarkably intense snowball fight. You laid down underneath the covers, grateful to be able to take a nap. However, when you awoke about two hours later, you thought you felt your arms weighed even more than before, and your head throbbed an ache that wasn’t there previously. And surely, a day later, you find yourself sneakily throwing away your used tissues somewhere that Dottore won't find them, else he subjects you to his overbearing methods of... curing you. 

You did your best to make your footsteps as careful and light as possible, lowering the chances of one of them finding you with a trash bag full of snot-filled tissues. Unfortunately for you though, maybe you should have worn something other than pyjamas because, as luck had it, although a segment hasn’t seen your physical state, a patrolling agent did. 

He spoke into a walkie-talkie quietly enough that your ears didn’t pick up the sound of his voice and, as you're about to step outside to throw the trash bag out, you feel a hand on your shoulder. A cold, gloved hand that you could recognize anywhere with your eyes closed. You halt your movements as the (not so) mysterious figure behind you stays silent, waiting for you to say something first. 

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat, and you sniffle. “I don’t wanna be locked up in your room again,” you say quietly, voice slightly slurred from your cold. He scoffs, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently enough for it to be comforting. “Maybe if you didn’t try to go outside while having a cold I would reevaluate your options,” he sighs. “Alas, you leave me no choice. What were you thinking?” Dottore turns you around and frowns, tilting his head to the side. If you were anyone else you would have been dead where you stood, but here you are; wearing one of his old shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants, one of your hands gripping a trash bag, and the other wiping your nose. You stand awkwardly, looking away sheepishly, not particularly enjoying being caught red-handed like this. 

“It would be unhygienic to keep all of those used tissues in my room,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug. He holds back the urge to sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, mask lifting just a tad from the action, and exhales slowly. You would be the death of him eventually, he thought tiredly. 

Dottore bends down low enough to grab the bag from your hands and looks over his shoulder, tossing it to a poor unsuspecting fatui soldier. The soldier in question stumbles back slightly, just barely keeping themselves from tripping over, as Dottore signals for them to throw it away themselves. You don’t have the time to speak up before the person scurries away. 

“Next time don’t be so obvious,” he says quietly enough that only you can hear him. He bends his torso forward slightly, holding his face leveled with yours. “And next time you decide to get sick,” he begins with a raspy tone, holding your chin up with his palm, “come to me immediately. Lest you want me to wrestle you into my room again.” 

You’d be blushing if you didn’t know what was going to happen. Dottore straightens his back and outstretches his hand to you, looking at you from below his mask. Defeated, you interlace your fingers with his and jut your lip out as you hold back the urge to whine. A small smile graces his face as he guides you back to the lab. 

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xvii - 2 seconds

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

You don't know why you were so nervous to meet Hongjoong again. It wasn't like you fear him. Maybe it was the prospect of getting a new job that make you feel rather nauseated.

Even as you bring your mug to your lips you felt your hands trembling slightly, a sight that made Yeonjun sigh in pity.

Each time the door of Yeonjun's cafe open, you couldn't help but snap your head towarda it, expecting to see the dad and son duo. It happened around 7 times before you saw a familiar boy running and colliding against the door, pressing his face harshly in hopes to open the door but alas his entire body weight was not enough to budge the door. Within seconds, his dad showed up, slightly dishevelled and out of breath and you easily figured Kijoong had slipped away and ran to the cafe by himself.

Once the door opened, Kijoong dashed to you and without you even welcoming him, he climbed up on your lap. "Kijoong!" Hongjoong called out exasperatedly which sadly fell deaf on Kijoong's ears as he squeezed your cheeks together, "HI!" he yelled at your face before giggling and (stranggling) hugging you with his arms tightly. "I'm so sorry," Hongjoong sheepishly apologized and tried to pull Kijoong away only for Kijoong to bite his arm, causing Hongjoong to yelp. "Kijoong!" You gasped, pulling the boy off of you momentarily much to his displeasure, whining and trying to latch on you once again. "You don't bite your dad! You don't do that to anyone!" You scolded, eyebrows furrowing with a finger pointed at the boy.

Hearing you scold him, Kijoong's cartoon puppy ears droop down and his eyes grew round and shiny. Hongjoong was ready to swoop in and tell his son that it was all good, he wasn't hurt, but the sight of you on a stare-off with his son was astonishing. For a while, neither one of you looked like you were going to give up but of course, Kijoong gave up first. He begrudgingly turn to his dad and pouted, "Sorry daddy," then he looked up at you with his bottom lip jutted out. The moment your serious expression melt away however, Kijoong's lips turned upside down and his posture straightened. "Good job, buddy!" You raised a hand for him to high-five which he did (hard).

It took you a while but you soon realized that Hongjoong was watching the two of you and once you came to it, you blushed and ducked your head down, "I- I'm sorry, I should 't have scolded Kijoong like that, I-" "No, please," Hongjoong chuckled, waving you off, "I'm glad I could see a preview of how you and Kijoong would be like."

At the mention of your employment, you sat straighter and you visibly squared. "Speaking of, I need to tell you how I'm concerned how this job is relevant to my career trajectory," you stated, looking serious as Kijoong settled with playing with your hand. "Well, I told you that Kijoong has PNES and so I need someone with medical training who are ready to handle the situation if he has an episode. Currently we're trying to kick start his behavioural therapy but his emotional state is too unstable so a certain level of nursing SOP is needed. Not only that, I need someone who's used to a doctor's schedule," he explained, trying so hard to focus and not comment on how you seemed unbothered when Kijoong began using your hand as a toy, splaying your palm on his face and shaking it off before replanting it. "I'm glad you explained, but I'm still hesitant so I would like to discuss this 3 months probation thing," "Oh, yeah, that. Well, considering how Kijoong is with his previous nannies, I expect he'll do something to run you off within the first two days but seeing as how he seem to like you and how desperate I am, I'm willing to give you provisions that can help you go back to nursing which includes me actually helping you finding jobs until you get recruited. But that will only happen after the three month mark." "Why three month?" "Because it's his school holiday soon and within three months, he'll be busy with school so I can just go back to my previous schedule," he shrugged.

You were hesitant in the beginning and honestly you were still kind of unsure. But you were glad how candid Hongjoong was being about his son and you know because you had asked Wooyoung to tell you about him beforehand. Not to mention the bags under his eyes and how his posture is slightly hunched.

A hand tapped your cheek and you looked down to see Kijoong grinning up at you. "Thirsty, please," he stated which surprised Hongjoong (yet again) because of how polite he was being. "You wanna order something, buddy?" You asked and he nodded enthusiastically. Hongjoong reached over and made a motion to grab Kijoong, "Here, I can take him to the cashier and help him get something," he offered but you shook your head, "I have no problem taking him. That's what you want me to do anyways, right?" You grinned at him before letting Kijoong down and taking his hand to walk him to Yeonjun who was manning the cashier.

Carefully, Hongjoong watched over how you interact with Kijoong. He noticed how you never initiated anything and would instead offer Kijoong options on how he wanted to proceed. For example, Kijoong couldn't see the menu hung on the back that well and you made a point to let him know that there was a menu on the counter by pointing at it and name some items. Knowing that, Kijoong tapped your leg and asked to be raised up so he could see better. It was the little things that you did that made Kijoong felt like he has control and Hongjoong never realized how big of an impact it has on how his son behaves.

For a moment, Hongjoong even indulged in the fantasy of whether or not Kijoong's mother would've treated Kijoong as such and how different Kijoong would've been had she not left them too soon.

Of course, those thoughts were erased once you walked back to the table. Hongjoong's somber expression replaced with a smile when his son excitedly told him that he got himself juice and his dad an iced americano. Though it was a flash, you couldn't help but notice the shift but decided to not bring it up out of politeness.

When you settled back down to your seat, Kijoong as about to climb on your lap again, making it severely obvious to Hongjoong how much he likes and trusts you as he had never done this to someone he had only known for less than a month. It took Mingi half a year for the boy to warm up to him and maybe that was because Mingi was seeing him on a clinical setting.

Your conversation had been cut at a rather hanging manner, there were unsurety from both parties; will this help you with your employment issue? Will this help Hongjoong with his son? Will this be a mistake? It was a bit of a risk for both you and Hongjoong considering the way you both knew each other.

So imagine Hongjoong's surprise when you sighed and leaned on the table with crossed arms. "Okay, so tell me what you can offer salary-wise and benefit." When Hongjoong look at you with eyes widened to the size of saucers, you couldn't help bur find it adorable how Kijoong resembled him so much but you masked that facination with a roll of an eye. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna try this job for three months but you better hold up your end, are we clear?" You thrusted your hand forward for him to shake which he gladly grab and shook firmly.

"Okay," Hongjoong cleared his throat, "Let's talk responsibilities."

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@yungilia

[chthonion]

Hark, Cthonion! Cthonion! I petition thee for answers beyond my ken!

Should such knowledge belong to the forbidden tomes and be designated as inciting Doom to share hence, then whence favourable future conditions arise in the comings turning of moons I shall staidly await your imparting of wisdom should such a dawn arise.

The twenty-fourth chapter of thine own tale The Harrowing, second stretch of thine winding saga, contains within the following passage:

‘“You might not have run into this problem yet, but searching songs don’t reach as far here as they do on the other side of the sea,” Finrod says to Elrond. “There’s too much of the Valar in the land; their power gets in the way. We might not be able to reach him, depending on how far he’s gone.”

Wait. Have elves not figured out how to solve that problem?

“We can start by seeing if we get anything from here, then, but after that we should divide the work,” Elrond says.

Maedhros looks at Celegorm, his eyes a silent question.

Celegorm shakes his head, his mouth a grim line. “Sorry,” he says. “I still can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros says, his voice grave: a few beats of seriousness, a moment of acceptance for something that is clearly important, and then he’s moving on. “Tyelpe, have you ever done a search?”’

Thus, whilst I can hazard mine own guesses as to the implications beyond our otherwise ignorant narrator's ken, the clarity of what thou hast alluded to with specific intention shall yet elude me without aid.

Tyelkormo's answer most heavily suggests the following:

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast strength in Finding songs lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt one

-> Our stalwart hunter once hast a brand of trick that allowed our hunter to perform a Finding song in Aman less or unhindered by the cloyingly masking presence of the power of the ainur lost to him by literal ability or emotional readiness to attempt it

-> Our stalwart hunter hast the ability to commune directly with the land when tracking and bypass any need for song in it's entirety that his current state leaves him unable to do by literal ability or else emotional readiness

-> Our stalwart hunter is unable or else unwilling to try any of the above for fear of being Noticed by the powers that be in Aman, such as his estranged hunt leader

-> Or else that Maedhros, in his stricken state over the peril Maglor faced, dared to request our stalwart hunter appeal directly to his estranged hunt leader to locate their missing brother on their behalf for fear of the panic Maglor wandering on his own may begin escalating the Situation to one of public magnitude that Tyelkormo in his state could only decline for literal ability or emotional readiness

Indications of hitting any correct marks from thou wouldst be received with gratitude shouldst confirmation of one be Doom and a clue not enough to incite such severity.

Ok I'm so so late with this as usual and I am going to have to be incredibly cryptic but

Thy third guess was near the mark, though not at its heart!

The author possesseth and yet shareth not a Celegorm and Oromë one-shot, in which this shall be revealed and in which our wayward hunter may yet work some of his shit out, but alas! This tale demands that Annatar be, in some measure, calm of heart, and so he must work his shit out ere Celegorm may have his reckoning...

[luneariaa]

𝗥𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗗 | 𝗸𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶.

❥︎ - ; the first beginning and onwards will be a bit based on THAT ep ( i'm still coping ) and a dream that i had back then before the ep even airs 😭. BUT will have a happy ending instead i suppose (?) but oh man,, to reunite with him after the incident..

not too confident with this, but just needed to let this out from my mind :") nanamin might be ooc here!

. dividers by @/cafekitsune !! 💛

With slow, deliberate movements, he drags his feet across the hard grounds of the specific area; taking several steps ahead through the now-empty hallways of the building. Nanami tries his best to control his own breathing while doing so, and at least to conserve what energy is left within him.

It feels so eerily quiet as the silence in the air is only broken by the sound of his footsteps alone. And the pain he's currently having and experiencing-- he simply tried to ignore it with the mere thoughts of you.

Ah yes, his beloved. How long has it been? He even wondered what you were even doing around this hour. Perhaps you were waiting for him at your shared home? Or something else?

Or even.. Are you waiting for his arrival? It's been so long since he heard your sweet voice calling out to him within your safe place together-- your eyes never failed to show the look of adoration and love that was directed to him alone, maybe he gets to see you once again after all of this is over.

The sheer thoughts of it did manage to make him smile slightly for a while there. Even though the situation was dire at this point, he couldn't help himself. It's as if you were there with him-- calming his current state of inner turmoil from his own mind, and encouraging him further to keep on fighting.

And you always did, even when you're out of his line of sight. He just loves you that much.

Right at this moment, it just feels like he's walking down into his own memory lane instead of the quiet hallways from before. A small smile is present despite everything, lost within his own memories that have passed through time. Nanami could still hear your voice as if you were walking beside him, or even a glimpse of you through his peripheral vision. But alas, no sight of you was actually there.

Injured and tired as he was, the thought of you made him keep going.

Nanami feels lost-- he didn't know what to do anymore. What was he trying to do, where is he trying to go?

However, all of those thoughts were being pushed aside once a familiar, soft voice called out to him.

"Kento?"

It sounded exactly like your voice, which made him stop in his tracks. Was it his mind playing tricks on him?

Yet he couldn't stop himself from searching for the source of the sound, a small feeling of hope resurfaced within him.

"Love..?"

His eye widens at the sight before him in utter disbelief. "How are you.. I thought you were.."

Nanami's own words fall on deaf ears, not knowing what to say as much, still trying to register the fact that you are truly standing not too far in front of him right now.

It's as if time has stood still at this point as the two of you locked gaze with one another. Your eyes are filled with warmth as always, accompanied by a soft smile as you look visibly happy to see him.

He's not dreaming. You are indeed alive.

Without thinking twice, he rushes towards you and wraps his arms around you with all the strength that is left of him. The feeling is almost too surreal to him, yet he doesn't pay much mind to it.

"You're here-- god, I miss you so much.." Nanami finally spoke hoarsely; his voice on the verge of breaking.

A part within him died along with you from that one fateful day, but right now-- it feels as if he can breathe normally once again. He can try to live once more, knowing that you are there with him even not for long.

"You're okay, you're okay.." He keeps whispering out those words, most likely to reassure himself while trying to keep his emotions under control. Yet it was almost impossible, because it was you.

"Ken, you're hurt." You gave out your own reply while still holding him close to you with such tenderness, taking notice of his current injured state. No, this is far more worse than you've thought-- up to the point where you were the one to sputter out apologies even when it's not your fault at all.

"I'm alright." Nanami was clearly not, but the words escaped from his lips all too naturally for some reason; slowly breaking away from the hug just so he could have a better look at you.

He's still so badly injured, but still, he feels so relieved to be able to at least see you once more.

"I thought you were dead."

The words didn't have any harsh or ill intentions within it, but rather were asked out of shock. You simply smiled a little, as you have expected that sort of question from him.

"I am."

"I just came here to pick you up. You did so great, I'm just so proud of you. You did well."

"And now it's time for you to rest. Your job is done; you can leave everything behind now."

"You.." He was about to respond, but was unable to because he started tearing up. The feeling is just too overwhelming like never before, and the fact that you just stood before him pushes his emotions further.

"You're really here, aren't you?"

He needs some sort of confirmation. He needs to know. However, his worries fade away once more when a bright smile appears on your face.

"I am real." You gently grab ahold of his hand, leading it up to your face, and let it stay on your cheek. "See?"

Even the wedding ring is visible on your finger for him to witness; a sign that the two of you are tied for the rest of your lives. He breathes out a sigh of relief, finally getting the assurance that he needed at least.

And that's when he realized that he was no longer all bloody and injured as he was before. Instead, he looked perfectly fine, just like you. The pain is no longer present, and any trace of deep fear disappears completely within him.

"We're finally in Malaysia as we've wished for, can't you believe it??" You exclaimed excitedly, holding onto his hands and bouncing a bit too enthusiastically. Nanami observes his surroundings, and indeed, they are now by the seashores; the water is beautifully blue and crystal clear, and the air smells fresh and free. The sun is bright, yet not hot enough to burn off your skin.

It's as if you two were given another chance to start a new life.

"It feels so peaceful here.. I just didn't know what to say." He smiles warmly down at you, clearly can't get enough of the sight of you alone. Guess you never changed, and you're still the same woman that he loved and adored all this time.

Nanami slowly drags you along for a slow walk by the soft powdery sands, really feeling it underneath his feet as he walks.

The whole sensation and moment feels heavenly, dare he say. Even the sound of waves crashing by the sea makes him extremely content, knowing that both of you are free from the world of curses.

From that time onwards, he knew that this is where you both truly belonged, and this is where he belongs. You are his love, his home, his everything. He wouldn't even trade it for anything else and beyond.

"Oh, I still need to show you one more thing."

Nanami quirks up his brow as he looks at you with pure curiosity. "What is it?"

You merely grinned cheerily at him without saying anything further, and that's when he got tackled into a tight hug by someone rather familiar.

It really caught him off guard and took him a few seconds to process on who was actually hugging him right at this moment, before his eyes widened in surprise.

-

"H-Haibara-?"

i got carried away near the ending :")

© 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚜.

[turtleduckscribbles]

Close to Home

“No matter where I go to offer aid, Link remains at my side…”

~A brief exploration of Zelda’s personal journey toward home, and how she finds it in Link.

Read on AO3 or continue below.

<< Chap 2 <<

~o~o~o~o~o~

Chapter 3: "Safe House"

The crisp night air pricked like needles as the pair of horses plodded their way up the winding, muddy path through the Ginner Woods. The rain had relented hours ago, but the lingering mist clung wetly to Zelda’s skin, determined to give her a thorough soaking. Drenched and drained of energy, she slumped in the saddle, fingers white against the horn.

Though the squall earlier that afternoon had been fierce, it had also been short-lived. Within the hour, it petered out into a steady trickle that eventually passed south. Yet even with it gone, Link had proposed that they shelter in place. They were still a half day’s journey out from Hateno, and he knew she was taxed. But Zelda had demurred. Eager to escape the confines of their shared, traumatic past, she had insisted they push on, no no really, she was fine, she could manage another half-day’s riding. Clearly a gormless decision. Now, she was exhausted, both physically and mentally… and Link was worried about her.

They hadn’t spoken much since her emotional hiccup at Blatchery Plain. Not that this was unusual; silences had long been standard-issue in their history. But it was plain to her that this one was weighing on him. More times than she could count, she’d glance over and catch him observing her from his mount, his eyes asking an implicit question. It was like Zora’s Domain all over again. Hating to alarm him, she answered back with tight-lipped smiles, hoping they were more of a reassurance than a warning bell.

She didn’t know why she bothered. She could never fool him.

And now, as they made their sluggish way up the hill leading to the village, Zelda simply couldn’t keep up the facade anymore. With every bump and hoof fall, her telltale grunts of discomfort were becoming increasingly (and embarrassingly) more pronounced. She was struggling. She knew it; Link knew it. Subtlety had never been her strong suit.

Especially not with Link.

The signboard overhead creaked in greeting as they passed underneath the entrance archway of Hateno. The streets were still, and the hazy yellow lights blinking from the lampposts did little to dispel the misty darkness, but thankfully Link took the lead, and her horse was only too obliged to follow. Zelda shivered, drawing her cloak more securely around herself.

It pained her to admit it, but she was silently grateful they had arrived in the cover of midnight. With the lanes empty of villagers, she wouldn’t need to adopt a charade of false aplomb that was expected of the returning Princess of Hyrule. Not now, at least, when fatigue settled over her like a cloud. Not when she was cold and miserable and soaked to the bone.

But alas, she was the one who had chosen this current state of affairs. There was no one to blame for her waterlogged misery but herself.

The clunking of hooves against wood jolted her to awareness. All at once, Zelda came face-to-face with a jarring sight that materialized before her eyes.

A house.

Or rather, a cottage.

Scarcely had she laid eyes on it when a flurry of remembrances rushed into her mind. She knew this place. How could she have forgotten? Immured in the castle, she had watched from afar as Link sweated and toiled away to build a house for himself: this lovely, humble home that he could call his own, in this far, untouched corner of the world. And now, she was finally seeing it in person.

It was a quaint thing, really. Sequestered away from the rest of the village, it lay in the embrace of the outlying foothills, separated from the residential district by the narrow, rickety bridge they currently crossed. Crumbling stone and stucco constituted its plain walls. Creeping vines hugged the front veranda. A crooked chimney protruded from the shingled roof, giving character to its simple face. 

Upon crossing the bridge, Link led her over to the side yard, where a small paddock housed two enclosed stalls. In one fluid motion, he dismounted and made his way over to her, as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a hard seat for hours. He reached the side of her horse and extended a hand, looking kindly up at her.

Zelda blearily eyed his hand. Her fingers were glued to the saddle pommel, stiff with disuse. Despite all the time they’d spent on the road these past several weeks, her riding form was severely lacking after a century in stasis; needless to say, she was incredibly sore from the day’s travels. Wincing, she unstuck her fingers and, in a colossal effort, swung her leg over her mount’s back, allowing Link to help her down.

Strong, steady hands gripped her sides, controlling her descent to the ground. Mud squelched beneath her boots as she landed, and her knees nearly buckled; startled, she threw out an arm to brace her fall, but instead found herself in Link’s stabilizing embrace, her arms wrapped securely around his neck.

Time froze for an eternity. Zelda had gotten close to Link innumerous times throughout their mutual association—an accidental shoulder bump here, a brush of the forehead there, even point-blank sobbing into his lap—but never nose-to-nose. Not like this. Link’s pupils were blown wider than she’d ever seen them, his irises a kaleidoscope of blues. She held his gaze, that bright, electric gaze that never failed to immobilize her, to ensnare her sensibilities, keeping her pinned there against his chest. He was warm, very warm, and his hold on her was unshakable. A frenzied hammering was commencing somewhere near her ribcage, but from whom it originated, she couldn’t tell. He was very close… There wasn’t any distance between them at all… 

Zelda cleared her throat, unwinding her arms from his neck. “Er… thank you, Link.” Taking a measured breath, she straightened and offered a weak smile, hoping the pinch of her joints didn’t show on her face. But as she pulled away to administer to her horse, Link blocked her path, as if to escort her to the house.

“Oh—” she chirped, almost stumbling into him again. “Um, yes, okay then. If you’re sure. Thank you, Link. But I’m alright, really—I can see myself in. Thank you for tending to the horses. I’ll… I’ll meet you inside.”

Link studied her briefly before nodding. As he returned to the stalls, Zelda shambled off alone toward the front entrance. Normally she would have devoted this time to think, but her mind was in a daze. As much as she looked forward to being indoors, she couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling that was trickling over her. She rounded a corner and a sign came into view that put a stop to her tracks:

—MASTER LINK—

Steeling herself, she pushed past her block and entered through the front door.

It was pitch-black inside. Zelda scrabbled around in the dark, her fingers finding the outline of an oil lamp. Using a spare piece of flint, she lit the fuse and shielded her eyes from the blinding light, blinking away the dancing spots.

Good gracious.

What first caught her attention were the walls—or, more specifically, the weapons. Swords and shields and bows of all sorts adorned the walls, showcased on wooden mounts boasting descriptive plaques. Quite the dramatic entrance. But aside from this lavish display, the single-room house was bare and unassuming. A table set for two sat in the center. A small kitchenette was pushed to one corner, as was a bookcase and a cabinet of dining essentials. Near the door, stairs led up to a loft, where a banister hid the rest from view.

Zelda hugged her elbows close as she glazed over the modest furnishings of Link’s home. For some inexplicable reason, her heart couldn’t stop pounding. She stood awkwardly at the threshold, her mind blank.

Minutes passed before the door opened. She whirled around. 

In came Link with his arms full of travel sacks. He looked worse for wear in his stained Champion’s garb, his hair limp and scraggly. The bags fell to the floor with a thud, and he moved more fully into the room, rolling out his shoulders—but upon finding her standing there, he drew to a halt, the latch of the door clicking shut behind him.

They stared at one another.

Zelda stood rooted to the spot. His wide eyes seemed to take in every filthy inch of her. He faltered, as if coming to a sudden, unpleasant realization. 

“Sorry,” he said. It was the first she’d heard him speak in hours. He trotted over to one of the table chairs and pulled it out for her.

“Oh… Er, yes. Thank you.” Trying not to hobble, she made her way over and flumped down into the offered seat, sighing at the relief it offered her cramping legs.

Once she’d settled, Link dashed off to the storage area beneath the stairs, swiftly returning with a towel. Zelda accepted it with thanks, but no sooner had she taken it than he was off again, grabbing cups, retrieving a kettle from off the rack, pulling bottles from his satchel…

“Link…” she began, flustered, “really, there’s no need… I’m fine, really I am…”

But Link was on a mission. He lit the hearth and warmth immediately roared into the surrounding space, hitting her like an errant heat wave. Uncorking the bottles, he filled the kettle with their creamy white contents—something he’d purchased at the stable, presumably—and, with the pot on the fire, stood back. At a loss, Zelda dried her face with the towel, clearing away the sticky damp.

A short time later, a mug of warm milk sat in front of her. Zelda cupped her hands around the glass, breathing in the swirling steam. She took a small sip.

Instantly its soothing power took effect. It was everything she hadn’t known she needed, uncoiling the tension that tightly wound her muscles, banishing the chill that had settled in her bones. So simple, yet so profound. She smiled her thanks to Link and, leaning against the table with his own mug, he returned it.

They drank their milk in companionable silence. Usually, Zelda would be providing a running commentary of the day’s events, or supply an extensive analysis of the house’s aesthetic—but at present, her brain was in a sort of fug. Reasoned, intelligent thought seemed stubbornly out of reach. She supposed that was largely the milk’s fault. She sipped it slowly, strangely reluctant to finish it.

But, inevitably, she drained her cup, and Link whisked it away. As he did the washing, Zelda stared down at the towel clutched in her hands, unable to look elsewhere. While the steamed milk helped ease her sore muscles, her disobedient heart still thumped away, her mind spinning in place. The whirring in her ears was so overbearing that she hadn’t noticed his approach until a pair of boots came into her periphery. Haltingly, she looked up.

Link had resumed his resting stance against the table. He faced her, but he wasn’t looking at her directly; his gaze rested just below her on the table cutlery. That distant expression he wore was one she’d grown to know like a book: This was the look he donned when he was mulling over words. When he was about to speak. Motionless, but with heart fluttering, Zelda stared up at him, waiting patiently for him to begin.

Link’s trance persisted until he blinked himself out of it. He took a slow, deep breath, his sight still fixed on the tableware. 

“I set your pack by the door. Your flask is refilled too. Washroom’s out back by the horses. If anything’s lacking, please tell me.”

He paused. He shifted his weight before continuing.

“The upstairs is ready for you. It’s not much, but it’s clean. The bed’s in the back. Anything, everything—it’s yours.”

The accompanying silence hung between them like frosted breath. Zelda balked, blinking away her bemusement. 

“The upstairs is…? But I—Oh, Link, I can’t take your… That’s not… I can’t…”

I can’t take your bed.

“And—and in any case—what about you? Where… Where will you go?”

Link still wasn’t looking at her. His gaze drifted toward the door, lost and searching, as if puzzling over a cryptic solution he hadn't fully thought through. He seemed to be waging some sort of internal battle, wrestling with himself over… something. Zelda held her breath until the realization struck her like a speeding arrow, and dread pooled in her stomach.

“Link, please… Don’t go.”

Finally, she had his attention. Roused by the waver in her voice, Link tore his eyes from the door and looked her full in the face. There was a wariness in him, a probing quality to his look… but there was also something else. Something unfamiliar. For all the years Zelda had known him, she couldn’t place what it was. All she knew was that it frightened her. After a brief struggle, he glanced away, considering a point over her shoulder.

“...There’s a storeroom under the stairs.”

Zelda shook her head. “Link… you can’t sleep there. It’s much too small. And really, I can manage, you shouldn’t have to confine yourself in your own—”

“Princess.”

She pulled up short, the towel twisting in her hands. His voice was soft, so unbelievably soft, and his eyes were on her once more. Earnest and imploring. Desperate. 

For Zelda, it was enough.

Moved by his charity, she gave a solemn nod, sealing the compromise.

A settled hush fell over them. Zelda blew out a quiet, tremulous sigh. The somnolent, pulsing light of the firepit tugged at her eyelids. Lethargy was eating at her, and she knew she was reaching her limit. She made to stand, when—

“I…”

She froze on her feet. Link too had pushed away from the table, moving fractionally closer. An afflicted look had overcome him, his features furrowed and drawn.

“I led you through Fort Hateno today. I should have realized… I should have taken you a different route. I’m sorry.”

“No, Link—” Zelda insisted, stepping forward. It was imperative that he understood this. “Please don’t apologize. There’s no better way to the village, we both know that. I appreciate all you’ve done for me, truly. You are… generous beyond compare. Thank you for bringing me here safely.”

Link took this all in, his head bowed. He gave a single nod. Then, he was moving toward her, and Zelda’s heart stuttered when he reached out, his hands closing around hers.

Their eyes locked. The brilliance of his blue swept her up, made her feel like she was floating. Drowning. Zelda’s cheeks prickled as she felt the gentle strokes of his fingers. In a flash, she was transported back to that pivotal night in Kakariko: the night when he first took her hands in his, anchoring her. She swallowed, hardly breathing.

“Sleep well, Princess.”

And—as quickly as it came—the moment passed. Link took the towel from her grasp and stepped back, breaking them apart. A final look, a final nod, and Zelda turned away, heading toward the stairs.

It was a short climb, yet even so, she was winded by the time she reached the upper landing. She gave the space a quick once-over: a writing desk, some shelves, a chest of drawers. The twin-sized bed in the back corner. She noted a suspicious lack of a mirror, but she’d worry about that later. She hadn’t the energy to do her toilet tonight as it was. Cleanliness would have to wait until the morrow. She approached the shelf against the back wall, intent on relieving herself of her bag, and made the grievous error of looking up.

Her bag crashed to the floor.

The sight of the Champions’ picture hanging on full display arrested her entirely. There they were, all six of them, lively and hale, mere inches from her face. She took in Daruk’s toothy grin, Urbosa’s fond smirk…

All the breath fled her lungs.

Zelda spun away, her body acting of its own accord. Her eyes slammed shut, as if triggered by a secondary safety measure, which did nothing to fend off the image already seared onto her retinas. Bent under the weight of this new ambush, she fought for control, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

In… and out. In… and out. In…

Out.

With her rapid breaths subsiding, Zelda stooped to retrieve her sleepwear from her pack, careful to keep her eyes on the ground. Mindlessly, she unclipped the Sheikah Slate from her belt and began to undress, working quickly to change into the nightgown Papaya had so thoughtfully provided her in Kakariko. This donned, she stuffed her dirty clothes into her pack, placed the Slate on the nightstand, and, on trembling legs, climbed into Link’s bed.

The mattress groaned and stretched as she slipped beneath the thick woolen comforter. Skin on silk on sheets was a welcome reprieve from the sodden riding pants she’d been enduring all day. Sighing, she sank further down. Her head hit the pillow, and a deluge of scents enveloped her: hints of lavender, a note of soap, her own musty aroma… nightshade from the wilds…

Zelda’s stomach swooped into a dive. She couldn’t do this. As much as she craved rest, the chances of her getting any sleep like this were laughably slim. She felt jittery, out of place, as if she were wearing someone else’s skin. An intimacy she was unfamiliar with. Her heart refused to relax, and she suddenly realized she couldn’t hear anything going on downstairs. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The lights were dim, and the fire had been put out, she couldn’t see, it was so dark, she was alone again, trapped and imprisoned, fighting for her life and the lives of those she loved, never winning, never ending, she couldn’t breathe, she was alone again, the house was quiet, it was so dark, she couldn’t hear anything, it was far too quiet—

Something tickled her nose. Zelda reflexively pulled back, squinting in the gloom.

On the pillow next to her face lay a single bright strand. It was dark, and she could barely make it out in the distant lamplight, but its distinctive gold luster was unmistakable. With some hesitation, she reached out and took it, rubbing it between her forefinger and thumb. Twice the length of her palm, it twirled and swayed in the breeze of her breath. A gentle touch.

From out of the blue, something bloomed deep within Zelda’s core. It caught her unawares, starting at the center of her chest and sprouting upward to the base of her throat. Up and up it went, bliss bordering on pain, until it reached her vocal cords, filling her to capacity. Washing over her. Overcome, Zelda clutched the golden thread in her hand and cradled it to her chest, tucking it close, unable to help the gratitude that spilled forth onto her cheeks.

Safe.

END OF PART ONE

~o~o~o~o~o~

>> Chap 4 >>

[english-mace]

You really like using 2nd person in your (published) fiction, and present tense. Is that a big preference or just how it shook out with the short fiction?

What a fun question!

Honestly, it's a little of both. My friend Valerie Valdes has a great essay about why second person sometimes appeals to marginalized authors - essentially, it feels less alienating because we're very used to being asked to step into an experience very different to our own (since so much fiction is anchored on the 'universal' straight-white-cis perspective). For myself, I started out in poetry, where writing to 'you' feels very natural, so, particularly with flash fiction, I drift back into that mode easily.

Second person is great for simultaneously inducing empathy while also distancing the character from what's happening, in an odd way. It's the epitome of 'tell don't show.' In third person, we can do a little bit of informing-on-emotional-state - at least in close third - but we also give the reader context to make their own judgment on whether the character really is feeling the way they're telling us they are, and whether that feeling is justified. In second person, we can get very sparse. A character might only give us one angle or detail of their experience, or a character might refuse to tell us anything at all about how they're feeling, practically dissociating (like the betrayed god-monster of Birds Are Trying To Reinvent Your Heart, a story which displaces emotions onto physical objects rather than placing them on 'you'-the-reader). A really good author - Rebecca Roanhorse's Hugo- and Nebula-winning Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience springs to mind - can use second person to incept emotions into the reader, using the complicity of the PoV to get far deeper under the skin than first - conversational, confessional - or third - documentary, informative - ever can.

The trick is, second person is a lot harder to maintain suspension of disbelief. Audiences are far more likely to reject a PoV - like an organ transplant - that asks them to mutate their own self-identity for the length of a story. It's very doable in small slices. Start going for longer, you are likely to lose people.

So that comes back to the difference between what I write and what I manage to sell 😅 I tend to write second-person in pieces under 2,000 words - Sparsely Populated, Birds, and (arguably second, but reads like first) Upon What Soil are all under 1,000, and I have a second-person lesbian forest-witch necromancy story coming out in Haven Spec next month that's ~1,700. And I've had a lot more success selling my flash fiction and poetry than I have my longer pieces. Of the ones I have sold, both my Silk & Steel story (6900 words) and my pirate feather-witches story in Skies of Wonder (4200 words) were third-person past, as are all three of the novels I've gone out on submission with. But alas! If no one buys them, or if only anthology markets which don't post online do, then no one can read them.

...having said all this, I am currently plotting out a second-person detective noir novella, but I'm 90% certain my agent will make me rewrite it into first when I'm done, so there's that 😅

[tododeku-or-bust]

Another thing that has really helped me protect my emotional state (at least, as much as I can) when dealing with the racism of current events and life, is essentially deciding who is worth my grace and who isn't.

Those who want to learn to do better, to be better, will listen to learn. They'll take what knowledge we offer and use it! I don't mind teaching those people. Those that want to argue, won't. And that's on them 😐 I have no intention of debating or convincing people who would have people argue their humanity. You are not my concern 🤷🏾‍♀️ stay the racist that you are, then! Seek those consequences!

There's this idea that Black women (the marginalized in general, actually) are expected to swallow injustice and save everybody, and I'm not doing that lmao. Do better or don't 🤷🏾‍♀️, I'm not gonna convince you to be on the right side of history. That's a you choice! I'm sure there are people better than me on this, but alas.

[vewyscawy]

Maniac Mayhem

Pairing: Ainz x GN!Reader

Wordcount: 2,108

Tags: tooth rotting fluff, fluff and smut, the world item is sensitive (cliché lol), non-penetrative sex, frottage, clothed sex

Summary: Ainz has once again come into contact with the Total Maniac item, throwing his emotions into a state of chaos. Thankfully you are here to help him through his poorly hidden panic, and you both realize your feelings for each other. But... was that world item in his stomach always supposed to be that sensitive?

Panic surged through the Overlord as he, once again, fucked up with using the Total Maniac item. He thought after last time he had gotten rid of all the chaos inducing items, but alas, one remained, and of course he'd activated it unknowingly.

"Whoa," came from his side, as he looked over at you, pure panic on his face. "That felt weird."

Well, you couldn't really know how he felt at this moment. After all, he had gotten used to not feeling emotions and this item somehow made him feel everything at once, overwhelming his senses almost instantly. He knew it would cancel racial restrictions on you as well, but you didn't seem quite affected.

"Are you- do you feel all right?" the Lich stuttered, cursing himself for not being able to get even one sentence out normally in his current state.

"Hm, yeah," you said, shaking your body of some slight tingles, though nothing else really seemed to have happened to you. You felt fine, a little elated maybe. Ainz however seemed a mess, and you frowned at the man. "How about you? Do you feel all right?"

No, no he did not. Everything was so much, and he needed to get somewhere quiet fast.

He tried to get the words out, but you understood without him having to explain.

"Don't worry, we'll get you to your room so you can wait out the effects. Don't worry, I won't tell the rest. We'll keep this between us."

In a flash the both of you had teleported to his room, and you quickly helped him to the large king-size bed in the middle.

"Now, how about you sleep it off?" you said, trying to be helpful, but you suddenly remembered he was an undead; he didn't sleep. "Orrr... we can just talk for a bit until you feel better?"

Ainz was honestly so happy to have a friend like you. Last time this happened he had felt so overwhelmed and alone, and despite everything working out in the end he was glad this time he had you with him.

"Thank you, Y/N." he murmured, grabbing your hand as he sat down on the bed. You squeezed his fingers in yours as you sat down next to him, and he seemed to sigh. Happy at the feeling of you small hand in his'. You were so warm and your presence grounded him, though his emotions still seemed to go haywire.

When you started rubbing your thumb over his hand he flinched, and you quickly withdrew your hand, apologising quickly.

"No, don't apologise. I'm simply not used to... this reaction to touch I suppose. It felt good actually." the last bit was mumbled, but you still heard it and smiled at him.

"Should I continue?" you said, grin turning a bit more cheeky, and if he could frown he would.

"If you wish."

"Oh no, I'm only gonna be touching you with your explicit permission Lord Ainz," you teased him, trying to distract him a bit from his thoughts. You knew how much he had the tendency to be inside his own head, and you could imagine the item only worsening this. Your words however, had quite an influence on him in his current state.

"I, ah... You... You have my permission," he replied, looking away like a bashful schoolgirl, and you chuckled at his antics.

"Thank you." you said for good measure, as you grabbed his hand again and squeezed, noting the way he let out a tiny squeak. "So, how long do the effects of this item last?"

"About..." he started, but the both of you were interrupted by a knocking on the door. You noted how Ainz almost jumped up half a meter at the sound, fixed his robes with shaky hands, cleared his throat and said in his seemingly unaffected booming voice: "Enter."

Poor guy, his nerves seemed absolutely frayed. There was no way this was just because of the item, he was probably on edge all the time, being the great Lord Ainz and all. You barely paid attention to the maid that just came to tell something, completely focused on Ainz, your friend and fellow gamer, stuck in this world together. There had to be something you could do for him to ease his nerves, and maybe to show him how much you cared.

The moment the maid was gone you moved yourself to sit on his lap, and Ainz 'wah'-ed at you, once again caught off guard.

"Ainz... no, Satoru," you called him by his true name. "You know that you can always come to me for support and stuff right?"

The panicked red glowing eyes in his skull seemingly softened at your words, hand coming up to cup your face. "Y/N... You really are a good friend."

"I'm hoping to be a little more than that," you said, giving him a little wink, and he stuttered.

"Ah, you know I'm just a Lich in this world. I'm sure there's others that would be better suited-"

"Satoru."

He stopped talking, and you closed the distance to give him a peck on his teeth. A little gasp came from him and you felt his hand tighten on your chin a bit.

"I don't want anyone else. I want you."

His mouth fell open comically, eyes dimming in their sockets. You giggled at the sight, getting more comfortable in his lap. He wasn't soft or warm, his bones digging into your flesh, but you didn't care. It was him, and that's all that counted right now.

"Are you sure-"

You kissed his teeth again.

"Yes. And you know what, I am planning on making this very clear to you."

His eyes brightened, mouth closing with a clack.

"Oh?" It sounded like a challenge, and it was one you took gladly. After all, now seemed to be the perfect opportunity with his emotional dampers offline so to speak. Your arms wrapped around his neck, kissing down his chin to his chest, pecking his clavicle and giving one an experimental lick. He didn't seem to respond much, his sense of touch still impeded.

"What are you doing?" he asked, feeling your warmth and a slight tickling feeling, but not much else.

"I licked you," you said, chuckling, "And now I'm gonna bite you." He instantly stiffened, letting out a small sound as you bit his other clavicle. You were pretty sure the only reason he was affected was because of his emotions at the feeling and not the feeling itself, but you took it as it was, enjoying the way he seemed to get riled up. You went down, licking a long stripe down his clavicle and his breathing seemed to pick up. Considering he didn't need to breathe, you took this as a compliment, and continued downward. It wasn't until you pawed at the world item nestled between his ribs that he actually let out a sound.

And what a sound it was; startled, long, lewd, loud. It actually surprised both of you. Both flinching away from each other. Him trying to get a grip, and you trying to make sense of what just happened.

"That's... That's not supposed to be sensitive," he spluttered, and you were sure if he could blush he would be red all over.

You were drooling though. The sound he had made had gone straight to your core, and you were throbbing. So ready for him to make more of those sounds, you brought your hand over to stroke the orb again, and he did a full body shudder, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"Oh my," you muttered, cradling the orb in both hands now, and his head fell back as he groaned. "I like this very much."

"That's..." he was panting now, gasping in mouthfuls of air as if he had lungs. It had been so long since he actually felt something, and this felt divine. He needed you to continue this. "Please don't stop."

Oh you weren't planning to. With a firm hand on his ribs you pushed the overlord back onto the soft mattress, planting yourself firmly on his jutting hipbones. It was a little bit of a balancing act, but if you did it right you could rub yourself against him as you touched the world item all over. He cursed under his breath as you leaned over him, grinning up at him as you let your tongue loll out.

The orb was cool to the touch, and tasted like nothing as you licked a long, wet stripe over the length of it. Ainz made a sound resembling choking, and you looked up to see his burning red eyes fixed on you with such desperation you could come from just his gaze alone.

"Shit," you hissed, mouth on the item as you jerked your hips against his', unable to stop yourself from chasing your own pleasure as well. You getting him off like this was somehow so very sexy, and despite you wanting to make this all about him you were getting too horny to stop yourself.

Both your hands cradled the orb, mouth licking and kissing the surface, feeling it heat up under your ministrations. Ainz had one of his hands tangled in your hair, not pushing down, but still holding you tightly. You could feel his full body shivers as you pleasured him, and you wondered if he could even come like this.

Your hips rutted against his, and sure enough there was nothing down here. Maybe, somewhere in the future, you'd find out about some sort of magic or item you could use to help him with that, but for now his jutting bones would do for you, and his world item for him.

"Y/N, I... It's too much," he grated out, voice almost pleading as his hand pulled your hair and you let him guide you away a bit, giving him some space to catch his figurative breath. Meanwhile you were still slowly rubbing yourself against him, getting yourself closer and closer to your peak. Before you could reach it you stopped yourself though, groaning and shivering as you forced yourself to move away a bit.

"Can you keep going?" you asked the lich under you as you got a semblance of control back, and he nodded at you.

"Careful though." was all he said as you kissed his lower ribs for good measure before you went down to the orb again. Your teeth clinked against it and you were rewarded with a long groan from Ainz, and a slightly tightening fist in your hair. His back arching up at you, and hips jerking up into your groin again. You answered his groan with one of your own, as he now rutted his hips against yours while you tried to keep it together enough to get him off as well.

"Fuck, Ainz," you sobbed, drool over your chin and the orb, falling over the edge with a choke as you nuzzled the item. A low, growling groan came from him, as he too seemed to reach his peak. You both lay panting on the bed, you on top of him, trying not to touch the world item too much, since you realized it was probably overly sensitive right now.

You tried to sit up, your undergarments sticking to your wet crotch. Crap, had you really just let yourself go like that?

You looked at Ainz who had his eyes closed. His face couldn't relax since it was just a skull, but he somehow seemed so at peace. No stress radiated off of him anymore, just chill vibes and you smiled.

Well, it was all worth it in the end. And fuck if it hadn't felt good.

"I'm not sure if that was just because of Total Maniac or if this is the reaction I will always get when I touch that world item of yours, but if it was that item then I sure hope you have some stashed away in the treasury somewhere." you said as you chuckled, patting his chest affectionately. His eye glow returned, fixing them on you, as he too chuckled at you.

"I never thought something good would come from that accursed thing, Y/N, but you sure proved me wrong."

"Now... how long did you say the effects of Total Maniac were again?"

He jerked upwards at your words.

"I think that was quite enough for the first time, Y/N!" he said, voice panicked, but you just chuckled at him. "Y/ N, I don't like the look on your face! ...Y/N!"

[princess-of-the-corner]

Goooosh, I just has such a fun outline in my head for a ML/Yu Yu Hakusho sort of not fusion exactly, but more like inspiration.

OK, so canon & season 1 are as normal, but in Despair Bear, after Adrien & Chloe's falling out she finds herself walking the streets brooding, fretting, ETC. Encounters a kid & manages to be 'nice' to them, maybe Mannon for simplicities sake. Then ends up saving her life ala Yusuke by running into traffic to push her out of the way.

Ironically if she hadn't intervened the driver would have veered right & Manon would be fine.

Cue ghost!Chloe being extremely pissed off, before encountering a Ferrywoman who explains Chloe's spirit was supr out of whack, partially cos ofher own issues, partially cos left over Remnants from Hawk Moth, there was a spark & well.

She's not quite 'dead' even if she appears that way currently.

She cam come back to life, with the expectation she'll be an medium on Earth in exchange for the help. But her trial to prove she is reliable is caring for a spirit egg. If it has emotions with a bad origin point poured ino it the creature will eat her, if they are positive it will help her return to life and be her companion.

Chloe almost gives up early.

Spying on her father to try and get some "Positive vibes" she encounters him & Audrey talking and.. Well its not great. Audrey doesn't give a shit & Andre muses Chloe was becoming a handful, still he is sad, but Audrey offers him Zoe as a replacement & he's OK. Her guide is pretty sympathetic & convinces her to try her very public, big event wake to see if there's anyone worth returning for.

"The Wake", does change her mind.

Adrien's basically catatonic crying & has to be hand held out by Nathalie. (Really Gabriel, you couldn't even turn up for this!?)

Sabrina has a full on breakdown, because what is she supposed to do now? She needs Chloe, Chloe was supposed to be there for her! (I did not realize I mattered that much)

Miss Bustier tears into anyone slightly rude (Some students & teachers) before expressing regret as she saw Chloe just needed a helping hand & feels she didn't do enough. (Stop making me feel bad, I'm dead!)

Chloe resolves to come back, even if it means having a job when she does.

Also she is definitely going to have words for her 'father' & some of her classmates, oh yes- wait positive thoughts positive thoughts haha.

Some chapters would involve seeing Chat Noir breakdown over her death to Ladybug & reveal himself & Visa versa, they agree to keep it a secret.

(Her death made Adrien reflective on how/why Chloe was like that)

She does some dream therapy with Sabrina & grudgingly encourages her to make friends with others over holding onto grudges for Chloe.

She wants to do dream therapy with Adrien, but the Agreste manor is super warded against ghosts for some reason.

She might do some dream therapy with Marinette.

Then Kagami turns up (Early) beats Adrien but is unsatisfied & Chloe spends the fight heckling her, then being annoying afterwards until Kagami addresses her.

Yup, Kagami can see ghosts & is none to fond of Chloe & ends up AKumatized (Oh come on!!)

Kagami: Your existence taints both my failures and my victories!

Basically, Kagami's mom is a spiritual power house & the one sent to train Chloe. Kagami' worked her whole life to awaken her spiritual powers & just by dying, Chloe is going to be at her level, minimum & Adrien was off his game cos he was still grieving.

Still, they resolve things, & Kagami helps protect Sabrina from some vengeful bullies maybe? Or passes on a message from Chloe to Adrien.

Anyway things seem to be going well, when Hawk Moth decides to posses her body!

Oh right, so the explanation for Chloe still being "Alive" is some lingering magic from when she was Akumatized putting her in a "death state". The Lucky Charm couldn't change it one way or the other though so she's comatose.

Suffice to say everyone, but especially Chat & Chloe are pissed.

Hawk: Any empty vessel wouldn't do for this possession, but this girl always had so much hurt and rage inside her. Now bereft a mind to hinder me she will be the ultimate Akuma! My AKuma!

Chloe: Land Lord, you're evicted!

Its more dramatic than that & she technically sacrifices her chance to come back by handing her egg off to Kagami. (who uses her spiritual skills to keep it alive) so she can stop HK from killing the heroes as Chat won't Cataclysm Chloe's body & the Akuma is her body.

So Gabriel is evicted, Chloe briefly wakes up but fades & is now semi tethered to her body & waiting to pass on.

Adrien brings Kagami to visit her the next day & there's brief talk of how if she were awake Chloe might joke about needing a princes kiss to wake her up.

Kagami leans into a bit and Chloe is getting increasingly flushed. Then Adrien has to step away for a moment & Kagami reveals the egg is alive, being kept so by her spirit and she returns it to Chloe.

Then reveals she has been charged to wake Chloe up, offering some of her own spiritual energy via a lip transfer.

Chloe (OO)

Then she just taps Chloe's lips.

Chloe: That! That was what you had me all worked up about!?

Kagami: Did you want me to kiss you?

Chloe: MAaaabbbyyyeeeeee (Wakes up)

There's tears, reunions, resolutions, death staring at her dad anytime he tries to use her for a press conference. "Physical therapy" with Tomoe & the hatching of the spirit beast which is technically both Chloe & Kagami's now. (Feathery dragon) Actually managing to chill her shit when bantering with some students who she was justly pissed off at.

& after that not sure XD

Oh that's a hot mess of a haunting but it works out great!

[bronx-bomber87]

The rewatch continues! Onto 1x02 ‘Crash Course’ we go. Once again will credit all gif creators at the end of this review. Thank you for all you create. Tumblr wouldn’t be around if not for you. Off we go.

This ep starts for Tim in the hospital. Makes me sad to see Tim at the hospital so disgruntled and alone. Truly not expecting anyone to come pick him up or care. Surly af with the nurse. But it’s not a glow up if we don’t start at the bottom. ‘Started from the bottom now we here’ is a prominent thing for a reason in character growth. Starting at the ground floor with him emotional scars and all.

He is so genuinely so surprised Angela and Talia come to get him. He wants the help but sure as hell isn’t going to ask for it. He’s clearly been so shut down since Isabel. He’s lost trust and faith of those around him. So them coming to get him shocks him. Being s1 Tim though he can’t let them see that. How much this actually means to him. That there are people out there that still care about him. My poor broken boy.

Annnnnd the need for his approval and praise from Tim begins. She’s so excited thinking he was so proud of her and what she did in pilot (she did save his life and protect them both under duress) only to be disappointed by Wrigleys ‘No..’ Her eyes light up only to be crushed by disappointment. You’ll get there Lucy it’s just gonna be a bit ha

Tim dropping by the diner he conveniently ‘lives by ‘ and getting his pickup. Aka a Lying liar who lies. Really just dropping by to check in on her and his current test. To see if she’s losing her mind being a slug or she misses the action already with Tim. Clearly it’s the latter. Regardless of where Tim is emotionally and how she’s his charge. This is a little bit of a work flirt for him. Man took time out of his recovery from a gunshot wound to come see and her give her shit LOL She of course is ready and eager to prove herself even when he’s not officially her T.O. He’s clearly enjoying himself too much though haha

On the surface this is just a test is to see if she wants to be a real cop or a slug. We all know with her future UC predilections she loves the adrenaline. I do think on a deeper level, part of this test is truly to see if she’s gonna stick it out with him. Or if she going to bail on him which is the current state of mind he’s in.

Expecting that abandonment. He’s in fight or flight mode most of s1 cause of Isabel. Legit Survival mode really. So he’s going to distrust everyone around him for little while especially someone with promise like Lucy.

Alas we get to the end of ep for them both. Best part of this gif set is the utter look of confusion on Lucy’s face. Fairly certain she didn’t think Tim Bradford was capable of laughing let alone smiling LOL

What I love most about this scene is one it shows how sharp Lucy is. Telling him she figured out he had her purposely assigned to Wrigley. Two, This is also Lucy’s first moment of challenging him. Standing up to him by calling him a pain in the ass. When he says it’s ‘his job’ It’s her first strike into those walls of his. By insulting him with her little jab. Developing that rapport. We get the first Lucy induced smile from him. He’s actually proud of how she handled herself the entire day with Wrigley. Not half ass-ing it and he’s beaming.

When she watches his retreating form she looks so confused and slightly annoyed at his happy demeanor. But she also doesn’t hate it either. She has no idea she’s started her slow burn with him. That massive wall of his has the smallest crack starting to form. He’s so pleased with himself he doesn’t realize it’s happening either. He’s just happy with himself and how interaction went down. They’re so cute I can not. Eric and Melissa’s chemistry on full display. We had it from the jump with them.

~~~~~

Side notes for this ep. Talia was pretty damn funny in this ep. With all the property/city damage Nolan does haha Them getting kicked into the old school cop car.

The captain ripping those cocky detectives a new one. I always enjoyed her scenes especially ones where she’s mentoring the newbs. She was always so calming to listen to. So sage in her advice.

The Nolan/Lucy scenes continue to make me cringe but they have their purpose even if I dislike them haha

That wraps up ep 2. This will definitely keep me pre-occupied till we can get s6. Try to do few eps a week depending on life/work haha please feel free to like/comment I enjoy it so❤️

Gif credit to

chenfordsbee

tim-lucy x2

Thesweetnessandthesarcasm pain ass my job

relentlessescapism

Chenford source

[wehadabondingmoment]

Adrien idolizing his dad makes sense

There has been so much hate due to the way Gabriel's abuse was handled specifically. I do agree that it should have been handled differently but I also think that Adrien's behavior made sense.

Adrien was beginning to understand his father's abuse and the effects it has had on him and he was getting so angry at him for it. With that kind of stuff, anger comes before acceptance because it's a lot like grief. Of course, this anger wasn't healthy by any means, it did feed into his overall s5 arch of trying to cataclysm people.

Adrien was beginning to be angry and then the person he was starting to hate died while defeating the bad guy (as far as he knows). Gabriel continuously used the excuse that he's doing this (abuse) for Adrien's own good, that he's just trying to protect him and for his father to die doing just that?

Of course Adrien would feel guilty for doubting his father. "Maybe he was trying to protect me by locking me up in a solitary confinement cell." "Not allowing me to date my girlfriend may have been his way of caring :)"

Adrien is gullible and emotional and feels chronic guilt. He's a perfect victim and he's written like that on purpose. Adrien Agreste is perfect and someone who is perfect wouldn't think ill of their dead father.

There used to be a lot of fan theories speculating on Emilie's morality and doubting that she was as perfect of a parent as Adrien's words make her out to be. This is precisely because Adrien idolizes and excuses people and their behavior. When someone dies, it is entirely normal to force yourself to think positively of them. To get so caught up in grieving that everything gets pushed back, all the anger and pain and you only feel worse if a bad thought does cross your mind.

Adrien has so much love in his heart and he isn't emotionally prepared to handle anything as complex as the relationship he currently has with his dad. After all, Gabriel defeated Hawk Moth, he must be good.

And this ties into the way he views Ladybug. Ladybug fights against the bad guy which means that he automatically sees her as the good guy and defends some of her more questionable actions (I could discuss this in a whole different post but alas). Depending on the season and his mental state he does have moments of doubt where he calls her out but especially when he's the one hurting, Chat Noir likes to rationalize her behavior. Even when she deserves to be called out for it.

He's essentially doing the same thing with his father that he has done all his life with everyone, no?

[eerna]

ok so its been a couple weeks how do u feel about totk zelink now

(context: here is part 1 of the ask, and also SPOILERS AHEAD!)

For reference, I am currently done with the dragon tears and sages questlines, but still haven't finished the Kogha one. Whatever happens after this point, I have no idea, I'm chilling and doing side quests and leveling up.

There is a difficult line to draw between "this is what the game is saying" and "this is what I am projecting onto it", but to me, this game is about how well Link knows Zelda. BotW was about trying to remember her and why she mattered, and TotK is about trying to figure out her plans and what she was trying to tell you, as she is no longer able to guide you the way she did in BotW. It's listening to what people are saying about her and deciding if it sounds like Zelda or not. It is beautiful, and shows how close the two of them are now! BUT. It would have worked even better if we saw traces of their relationship in the plot. This is a three-pronged feature: 1) In the main quest everyone calls Link "Zelda's swordsman" or "Zelda's chosen protector" and are surprised when they see him without her, but the NPCs STILL don't mention him. The way I almost screamed when I stumbled upon that Lurelin NPC who is like "oh yeah the princess would disguise herself and go on vacation and hike up to the Lover's Pond at sunset!" and I was READY to hear about the person accompanying her. But there was no one. Zelda was alone as far as this guy was concerned. Like pls. 2) Link should have revealed his thoughts on the mystery of Zelda's identity for this theme to work, at least by being the one to figure out the Zelda prancing around Hyrule is an impostor. In fact, the way they didn't try to incorporate the tears quest into the main storyline is pretty disappointing - sorry but Link would NOT just ignore knowing where Zelda is. They should have hidden the last few memories until you're done with the fifth temple to make sure he doesn't look like an idiot. 3) We are STILL in the "Link doesn't react properly to Zelda" era. I'm not even talking about animation, I would have settled for a "Don't look so concerned, we will figure it out!" or a "I know you wish to bring her back right away, but leave the research to me and focus on beating Ganon first!" from Impa at the end of the tears quest. Sure, I choose to interpret his mad dash through Hyrule Castle to get to the sanctum Ganon fight as him completely forgetting any caution or reason in his desperation to get to her, but is that really it? EVERYONE ELSE cares so so much about Zelda as a person instead of a princess, they are constantly talking about her, so Link could have gotten some moments of that too. I'm glad the game stated that Link's duty ended with the Calamity and he CHOSE to stay with Zelda, so it's not that he only cares because he has to, but I wish it was shown outside that one line in a secret diary.

In conclusion, I still stand by my previous claim: Skyward Sword did this same dynamic better, so if I hadn't played that game I might have been elated over this one, but alas. I am still hoping for an earth-shattering emotional moment towards the end of the game that is gonna render all my complaints wrong, I haven't lost hope, but wow my imagination is working overtime to keep me happy

[r-lestrcnge]

BASICS:

Name: Rabastan Eltanin Lestrange Age & Birthday: 27, December 15th 1951 (started Hogwarts in September 1963) Gender & Pronouns: Cis-male & he/him Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank & co-owner of Arcana Obscura, a curse-breaking business, with Emmeline Vance. Blood Status: Pureblood House: Slytherin Affiliation: Death Eaters Family: Alecto (wife; née Carrow) Rodolphus (older brother), Bellatrix (sister-in-law), Corvus (father), Clarisse (mother) Languages: French Residence: A small manor house in Scotland, isolated & located beside a loch (staff: several house-elves, including a male named Trinket, who moved with him from London, and Alecto's house-elf, named Pansy). Second home: London townhouse, hidden from Muggles. Former Residence: Lestrange Manor (family estate)

MAGICAL:

Boggart: Himself without magical ability. Patronus: Lynx Amortenia: Leather, parchment, rain. OWLs: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Transfiguration. NEWTs: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Defence Against the Dark Arts.

WAND:

14", unyielding. Core: dragon heartstring ; "As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental." Wood: hornbeam ; "My own wand is made of hornbeam, and so it is with all due modesty that I state that hornbeam selects for its life mate the talented witch or wizard with a single, pure passion, which some might call obsession (though I prefer the term ‘vision’), which will almost always be realised. Hornbeam wands adapt more quickly than almost any other to their owner’s style of magic, and will become so personalised, so quickly, that other people will find them extremely difficult to use even for the most simple of spells. Hornbeam wands likewise absorb their owner’s code of honour, whatever that might be, and will refuse to perform acts - whether for good or ill - that do not tally with their master’s principles. A particularly fine-tuned and sentient wand."

PERSONALITY: 

+ ambitious, logical, diligent, loyal, reliable. - prejudiced, arrogant, selfish, unforgiving, cold.

APPEARANCE:

Height: 6'0" Eyes: Cold blue Hair: Dark brown Build: Mesomorphic

BIOGRAPHY:

Born some time after his brother, Rabastan’s purpose as the second child was twofold: to be the spare, and to give his mother something to dote on while his father was occupied with Rodolphus. In this way, it was hoped that he would be a girl. But alas, he was another son, and much to his mother’s chagrin, he was naturally more like his father than she had dared to dread. Young Rabastan showed little need for affection or companionship from the adults in his life. He was a quiet child, lacking emotion and content to indulge in his own company, occupying himself alone for hours without complaint. The only person he allowed into his personal games was Rodolphus. Blood was the thickest bond after all, and their blood could not be any more alike.  For years, he watched as his father molded Rodolphus and encouraged his aggressive pride and relentless ambition. Jealousy was never on Rabastan’s mind. He didn’t crave his father’s attention or envy his brother’s place as the heir. Rabastan greeted this way of life with cold apathy. He simply accepted his place and gripped the cards that fate had dealt him with an increasingly iron fist. He understood that everything had its correct place and purpose. He favoured order, logic and tradition. He loathed anomalies and change, and therefore he grew to despise those who threatened the ancient bloodlines and the position of their families at the top of the social tree; muggles and mudbloods were actively loathed before he even set foot in Hogwarts. Birthright became an almost religious belief.  It was only when the Dark Lord began to rise to power that his father turned his sight onto his younger son, deciding to steer him more violently towards becoming a Death Eater. The endeavour was not unwelcome, but it was unnecessary. Rabastan knew what his father was, and he was already willing to devote himself to the same cause. He saw nothing more valuable than ensuring a future worthy of the Lestranges’ status. So, at school he studied hard and, unlike many of his Slytherin compatriots, he preferred to glide under the radar, biting his tongue in public and expressing his malcontented opinions from the shadows. One would not find Rabastan openly cursing mudbloods. But if harm mysteriously befell them, he would certainly be high on the list of possible culprits and he would deny responsibility with an arrogance so strong that it pierced even his remarkably icy demeanour.  Excelling in arithmancy and ancient runes, and having an unhealthy interest in dark magic, Rabastan is now a Curse-Breaker alongside being a Death Eater. He takes pleasure in studying the oldest forms of cruel magic and twisting them to fit the Dark Lord’s purposes. He travels frequently for his work, which offers a useful front when the Dark Mark’s delicious summon trickles through his veins like the purest ecstasy. Full of vigour and fierce aspiration, he pursues the war incessantly, determined to carve a world that is worthy of pureblood supremacy.

EXTRA:

Connections Spotify Inspiration

[marlasomething]

Thought Runner 2049 (Bugborg Week - June 14)

Summary: Former gun for hire, re-invented into white-collar criminal Nebula is being interviewed after being offered a job by Yondu's Criminal Family by Mantis...maybe they get along better than expected.

Relationships: Nebula/Mantis

A/N: Written for day 3 of @bugborgweek2023

Prompt: Love languages

Word count: 1626

CW: parental abuse, memories of body modification and abuse, childhood trauma

Also on AO3!

Nebula didn’t like human contact. Usually, it was something that she could easily avoid. After all, his father had been one of the most influential politicians in the History of the United States and, even these days, after having been proved how many terrible things he had done, plenty of people defended him and his shadow grew as larger as it had always done.

This fear didn’t only come from the fact that everybody knew that he seemed to believe he was the only one within the right to harm his step-children, though. It also came from the fact that, even though she had stopped being his hitman many years ago already, but people still knew about her handy-work from that time.

Since then, she had become one of the most successful criminals in the white-globe criminal underground. She had sworn not to kill unless strictly necessary. Not because she cared much about other people’s lives, but because she simply wanted to show Thanos he hadn’t irremediable turned her into a monster.

Of course, that didn’t mean that she didn’t occasionally end some people’s existence if it was absolutely necessary. Alas, her reputation was, somehow, intact in what toughness was referred.

Right now, she was wondering whether it might become even stronger in the violent department, as the contact from Yondu’s Ravangers kept being nice to her.

“Nepo-bug” she grunted, piercing her with her mechanically altered eyes. The other woman, who had some physical alterations done as well (making her shorta kinda similar to the animal she had chosen to name herself after, presumably once she had been adopted by her actual boss), blinked at her, offended.

“That was unnecessary . I’ve proved myself quite capable when it comes to read emotions and reach out to other… Illegal firms . It has nothing to do with who my family is. Also, it is really rude to pray upon another person’s body. Maybe I have good reasons for looking like… this ” after saying that, she made an unconscious gesture, grapping her very own wrist as it hurt.

Nebula understood that language.

  “Dad, why does it hurt so much?”

“Don’t worry Nebula. You will be better once you get used to it. After all, wasn’t your meaty right arm a bother most of the time…?”

 “Fuck, I knew that Ego guy was pretty terrible. I mean, he liked Thanos; but…I won’t say I am sorry, because your current dad still wants to buy my services for far too less than they are worth, but…I get it. What did he do in your head?”

Mantis composed an unreadable expression, completely alien for Nebula, before answering.

“Just sensors to get people better. That is how I know you are trying to get extra money just to prove to your sister that she got payed less because she fancies my brother in the Biblical sense . Also, the money part of business is held by my mom, not dad. Meredith is the best with money, even if not choosing partners, some might say” she smile, and it was genuine. Then, she clicked her fingers and an angry male voice could be heard from behind a wall as all the cameras shut down.

“Lylla! The blue-tattooed lady is going to kill our Mantis if we left them alone. And, then, Drax is going to kill ME !”

“Oh, Rocket, pretty please, shut up or you are sleeping on the couch. I think those two deserve a bit of intimacy…you are alone, honey! Right, Rocket ?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, but you go next time Floor’s teacher calls, alright?”

A door opened and closed and Nebula didn’t hear the end of the conversation (not that she cared).

“So….terrible early childhood dad, uh?”

“Biological, in my case. He cheated on Meredith with a…I don’t even know who my mother was, or is. Just that I was one of those kids that were already born with an inclination to be genetically modified and, since Peter is too old-fashioned human for it…my existence healed his disappointment . What he didn’t expect was, well…”

“…your mother taking his two children and running away with the criminal he had paid to murder his older yet useless son? I mean, that story is kind of famous in our circles”. It had also been the beginning of the end of Ego’s reign in the underground.

“Yes, that. However, the Bad has already been done. I…I might be receptive to artificial modifications, but, what I am not receptive to is to read people as most people do. So…it was…challenging, also, the whole not-fitting-with-my-name-thing” Nebula bit her tongue there; the only thing Thanos had done for her was giving her a name she felt matched more than Pompeii (the one her parents had given her, a bit too much for her taste). “I hear feelings, sometimes even thoughts; when the person is emotionally too vulnerable; but I just burst them out loud, I didn’t get that that made people uncomfortable for quite a while. Then, when I chose to be called Mantis, I asked for the modifications so the ones Ego did remained hidden, especially from me”.

“So, you knew what I was thinking so…am I emotionally vulnerable?” Mantis smiled even more (fuck, how much could this woman made her feel comfortable?).

“That is not bad; I think is a kind of language, an especial one. Just as you got what was going on with me because of how I gestured. I think these are ways that made us communicate in ways that nobody else could” all of the sudden, Nebula felt herself blush.

“Woah, bug, that your brother and my sister are doing grown up things doesn’t mean that you and I…”

At this, Mantis blushed even more.

“Oh, no. No . Of course…I didn’t…just friends”.

“ Friendly acquaintances ” Mantis shrugged.

“Well, at least you dropped the nepo bit already. A beginning is a beginning”.

 Nebula stopped the recording and eyed her partner, who was relaxing over her legs. Mantis laughed at her face.

“I know the pain Lylla went through as a teen, but I swear, it will be nothing compared to the one she is going to feel when I catch her. She said they had stopped recording!”

“She didn’t specify …”

“She did!”

“You know she didn’t!”

“Oh, it’s been a while since my mind has been that easy to read” it was true. Apparently, the only thing she had needed to stop being so emotionally vulnerable was…to stop being so close within herself.

Figured.

“ Oi! It is not the only way I have now to understand you” Mantis hit her with delicacy, but certain strength.

She was right, though. They had been together for longer than Nebula had been not only in a relationship, but it good terms in general with anyone (except for Gamora, of course; but shared abuse would do that to you), and every day she realised she could understood Mantis without having to exchange traditional words.

In small gestures, in shared silences, in how she poured water into a glass…even the silliest of gestures could mean a world. And Mantis was catching up, too; for the first time, she was getting someone from the beginning without her unnatural abilities put into use.

They were just perfectly similar, yet not equal enough, for it. Nebula couldn’t have been luckier to have met her.

She would still call her Bug , though; that was something Mantis would never be able to avoid.

(Not that she actually wanted to).

[mixdgrlproblems]

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#ElianMarjieh (known by her stage name #Elyanna) is a #mixed #Palestinian-#Chilean singer and songwriter. She has released two EPs: Elyanna (2020) and Elyanna II (2022). She is currently signed to Universal Arabic Music. Her singles Ana Lahale, Ghareeb Alay, and Ala Bali have all charted on The Official Lebanese Top 20.

She was born and raised in #Nazareth, Israel and is of Palestinian and Chilean descent. Her mother is a poet, and her grandfather is a poet and singer. She began singing at age seven and started posting covers of songs on SoundCloud as a teenager. In 2017, at age 15, she and her family moved to San Diego, California (eventually settling in Los Angeles) to further pursue her musical career. After arriving in the United States, she began posting covers on her Instagram, where she garnered a following of around 300,000 users. Elyanna’s music is a mix of Arabic and Western beats, something that the singer ascribes to her multinational upbringing.

“Growing up, I was inspired by a lot of genres such as jazz; it was all I would sing as a young girl. When I moved to the US, I felt an immediate connection with Arabic music and my culture. It gave me another perspective on the type of music I wanted to create.”

She just made history at #Coachella in April 2023 for being the first act to perform a full set in Arabic. She also set a precedent as the first Arabic-language artist to perform at the event.

"I always say that when you're an #immigrant, you get really attached to your culture more than ever. So when I moved to the US, I feel like I figured out who I am, and I figured out how beautiful our culture is. And I just wanted to embrace it the whole time. I want to show people a new culture. I feel like a lot of cultures, like Latin, Spanish, you hear them everywhere, and you don't understand everything, but it's so beautiful how international it is. So it's, like - it's not necessarily you have to understand what I'm saying, but it's all about the emotions and how it makes you feel." 🇵🇸🇨🇱 #arabamericanheritagemonth #mixedarab #halfarab #mixedgirl