#but this part is interesting enough to share

[lalune9x]

S-Classes 'Side Story' SPOILERS chapter 117

yoojin proudly claiming his title as the world's (universe's? multiverse's?) foremost expert on sung hyunje is amazing.

'It's Sesung, huh.' To be precise, it was Sung Hyunje-ssi's house—the one I had blown up. The ceiling-high bookshelves, the large windows letting in dim light. The spines of the books were made of various materials, but none of them had any writing on them. The sight was a little eerie. If a world were to be consumed, I supposed this was how it might be erased. Not that we had to worry about that happening anymore. Our little Bin-ie wasn’t that much of a glutton. With gentle flames surrounding me, I turned around. On the other side of the study, I noticed a figure sitting in a chair. If anyone were to appear here, who else would it be but a certain Mr. Sung? I took a few steps toward the figure lounging with his arms draped over the armrests, but then suddenly stopped in my tracks. Something felt off. The way he looked at me, the slouch of his limbs, and the tilt of his neck—it all seemed strangely unnatural. Because, when it came to Sung Hyunje-ssi, there was actually not a single person who could claim to know him better than I did. Though things were much more comfortable between us now, at first I had just been an F-rank beside an unpredictable and dangerous S-rank. Naturally, I'd had to stay on high alert, constantly trying to figure out what that guy was thinking and what he was going to do. Even after we got closer, Sung Hyunje’s unpredictability meant I never stopped observing him. If I'd written down all my observations in a diary and submitted it as a summer vacation assignment, I probably would've gotten five 'Great Job!' stickers from the teacher. So, over time, I got to the point where I could tell things like, 'He’s tilting his head 5 degrees to the left, that means he’s losing interest,' or 'He's touching his left sleeve with his right hand, that means he’s not having fun but is willing to put up with it for a bit longer,' or 'His left foot is dragging slightly—he’s about to do something unexpected!' I’d become pretty familiar with Sung Hyunje-ssi’s behavior. So I could tell that the thing sitting in that chair was a fake; just a shell that looked like him. For one thing, I had never seen Sung Hyunje sit like that before. His posture was off, with his back too close to the chair and his legs in the wrong position. Most notably, his hand was casually hanging off the armrest.

[lizzyiii]

Our boy Aemond is he gonna turn for our baby Mikaelson? ❤️✨

girrlllll chileeee, you're getting too ahead of the story😝

His Lady Love (11)

pairing | aemond x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC word count | 5.5k words summary | you finally reveal the truth of your existence to Aemond and Helaena, sharing the painful memories of your immortal life as the youngest mikaelson sibling and original vampire. Through tears and anguish, you expose your family's curse—eternal life without hope—and the deep scars it has left on your soul, as you recount memories of betrayal, loss, and survival.. tags | ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST. klaus mikaelson??? violent death, blood and gore, lowkey mental and emotional abuse, subtle depression. note | actually kind of love this chapter, I just love writing klaus in general. he's just so interesting, but I do think he's too overrated and done some really horrific things but people overlook that because of his charismatic and charming personality

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Aemond’s patience was a testament to the gravity of the moment, granting you the decency of privacy as you prepared to bare your soul. He remained in your solar, yet, even in the solace of solitude, you found yourself stalling, prolonging the inevitable.

You sank into the warmth of the bath, the fragrant water enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Each splash seemed to wash away not just the grime of the day before but the weight of your secrets, if only for a fleeting moment.

Emerging from the bath, you took your time, each gesture deliberate, each action a shield to stave off what awaited. You braided your hair intricately, each twist and weave a quiet reflection of the centuries that had passed, and you chose a gown—simple, yet elegant.

You stood before the mirror, your fingers trembling as they traced the delicate embroidery of the white gown that fell gracefully over your form. It was simple yet beautiful, much like the veneer you had worn for centuries. The gown’s gold embroidery caught the flickering sunlight, glimmering like the sun.

With a deep breath, you clasped the necklace around your neck, the Mikaelson emblem resting between your breasts like a lingering reminder of your lineage and the power that came with it.

Finally, with resolve steadying your heart, you pushed open the door to your solar. The scent of Aemond lingered in the air—earthy, faintly reminiscent of the dragonrider’s presence, grounding and yet intoxicating.

There he stood, framed by the soft, dappled sunlight that filtered through the window, his silhouette carved sharply against the room’s shadows. His one eye, always so piercing, was fixed on you—curiosity flickering within the cool violet depths, but also something darker, apprehension, perhaps even doubt.

“Are you ready?” His voice was low, steady, though an undercurrent of urgency rippled through it, enough to set your heart racing.

You swallowed, nodded, and then hesitated, your gaze shifting away from his for a brief moment before returning to him. "Helaena... she needs to be present as well."

Aemond’s brow furrowed, confusion lining his features as he studied your expression. “Why?” he asked, his voice measured but edged with impatience.

You let out a soft sigh, pursing your lips as you answered, “She’s already seen... *what* I am. Or at least, part of it.” You took a steadying breath. "When I killed those men to save Jaehaerys. She saw me—saw what I can become. She just doesn’t know the whole truth yet."

Aemond’s gaze darkened with understanding, though there was a glint of surprise in his eye. “And she just reacted to that without fear?” he asked, voice tinged with disbelief, though he kept it soft.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the awkwardness that had settled between the two of you ever since you revealed your true nature. Every interaction since then seemed unnatural, almost fragile.

"I suppose it was the shock of almost losing Jaehaerys," you admitted. "She was too focused on him to question anything else. But now... I owe her the truth as well."

Aemond let out another sigh, his gaze distant as if struggling with words left unspoken. You turned your face away, uncertainty swirling in your chest. But then, to your absolute surprise, his hand reached out to you, a gesture that felt both unexpected and intimate.

Without hesitation, you accepted it, your fingers intertwining with his, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His grip was firm, steady, grounding you in the moment as he began to lead you out of your chambers.

You followed without question, walking silently beside him, the gravity of what was to come weighing heavy between you.

He led you through the winding halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, his steps purposeful as the weight of the upcoming confrontation hung in the air. Finally, you reached the Queen's chambers.

Inside, you immediately caught sight of Alicent and Helaena seated together, quietly conversing on a chaise. The soft murmur of their conversation died the moment you and Aemond crossed the threshold.

Alicent’s sharp, perceptive gaze shifted to Aemond first, a flicker of suspicion and curiosity passing across her features. You could see the unease in her eyes, sensing that something important was amiss.

Aemond, however, made no effort to meet his mother's gaze, deliberately avoiding her presence as though she weren’t there. His silence spoke volumes, but Alicent’s focus quickly shifted to you.

Her brown eyes softened, and with a graceful rise from her seat, she approached you. Aemond's hand slipped from yours as you stepped forward to greet her.

"Queen Mother," you greeted, bowing your head slightly, unsure of how this moment would unfold.

To your surprise, Alicent did not remain distant or reserved. Instead, she moved swiftly toward you, wrapping you in a tight, unexpected embrace.

Her arms felt warm, maternal, and for a brief moment, the weight of your secrets and the danger surrounding you seemed to dissipate in the warmth of her embrace. She leaned in, her voice a soft whisper in your ear.

"I am so glad you are safe, sweet girl," she murmured, her tone filled with genuine relief. "The crown offers its deepest gratitude for returning Jaehaerys to us, alive and unharmed."

Her words stirred something deep within you—gratitude, perhaps, or the unfamiliar comfort of being seen as more than just what you were. You stiffened slightly in her embrace, though part of you longed to melt into it.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, your voice faltering as the emotions of the moment swirled around you. Alicent’s embrace felt almost too warm, too human, for someone like you—a creature cursed with an eternity of isolation.

But the sound of a throat clearing broke the brief moment of tenderness. You and Alicent quickly parted, your attention drawn to Aemond, whose eye was fixed on you with a simmering impatience. He stood tall, his presence commanding and unyielding, barely sparing his mother a glance.

"Mother," Aemond said, his voice cutting through the air like the blade of Dark Sister itself, "I need to speak with the Queen in private."

Alicent’s brow furrowed at his words, the slight tension between mother and son palpable. She opened her mouth, perhaps to question or protest, but something in Aemond’s gaze silenced her.

He was resolved, and Alicent, wise enough not to provoke him further, merely pressed her lips into a thin line. Her gaze shifted between you, Helaena, and Aemond, weighing the gravity of the situation, before she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Of course, Aemond," Alicent finally said, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. She gave you one final look—filled with questions she would not yet ask—before turning to leave.

She paused only briefly by Helaena’s side, offering her daughter a reassuring touch, then swept from the room, her presence lingering even after the door had closed behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. Aemond, still standing with that unyielding presence, took a step closer, the intensity in his gaze impossible to ignore.

Helaena’s gaze, usually serene and distant, was now clouded with confusion. She glanced between you and Aemond, sensing that the weight of what you were about to reveal was far greater than she’d anticipated. Yet, she remained silent, waiting, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as if bracing herself for the truth.

Aemond’s presence, on the other hand, was far more commanding. He stood tall, casting a sharp glance at the maids and ladies in waiting, who quickly scurried out of the room under the silent weight of his glare.

It was only when the door closed behind them, leaving just the three of you in the chamber, that the tension in the room thickened.

You swallowed, steadying yourself before speaking. "Helaena," you began, your voice calm but edged with the gravity of the moment, "do you remember the night I left with Jaehaerys?"

Her delicate features twisted slightly as she recalled the night in question, a memory clearly etched into her heart. Her voice, usually soft and melodic, was now laced with sorrow. "You saved my children… from the rats."

Rats. That was how she had chosen to remember Blood and Cheese—the two men who had threatened her family’s life. A kinder word for the monsters they truly were.

"Do you remember how?" you asked carefully, watching her reaction, feeling the weight of Aemond's unwavering gaze on you.

Helaena frowned as she spoke again, her words as innocent as they were brutal. "You tore the first man’s throat with your teeth… and you commanded the other to stab himself."

The room grew colder with the silence that followed. Aemond’s eye had darkened, his expression a mix of astonishment and curiosity. You could feel him piecing together what had happened, what you had kept from him for so long.

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth of Helaena's words. "Yes," you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. "That was me. What you saw… was only a glimpse of what I truly am."

Helaena blinked, her gaze softening with understanding, though confusion still lingered in her eyes. "But how?" she whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

You turned your attention to Aemond then, meeting his gaze directly, feeling the intensity of his scrutiny. His silence was louder than words, and his curiosity sharper than any blade.

"In the beginning, our family was human, five centuries ago now," you began, your voice steady despite the tremor running through your heart.

"Though our mother dabbled in the dark arts, we were mostly a family like any other, trying to survive in a time when survival was far from guaranteed." A faint smile ghosted your lips, though it did not reach your eyes. "And for a time, we were happy."

A heavy silence fell over the room as you turned away from Helaena and Aemond, your gaze drifting to the shadows cast by the flickering sunlight. Helaena rested on her chaise, her eyes wide with curiosity, while Aemond remained at the center of the room, his stance rigid, every muscle poised in anticipation.

"But that happiness," you continued, your tone darkening, "was shattered one night. My younger brother, Hendrik, was killed. Slain by the very creatures who ruled our village’s nights—men who could transform into wolves under the full moon."

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his attention sharp, but he did not speak. Helaena, sitting quietly, clutched her hands together, her gaze never leaving you as you spoke.

"Our family was devastated," you said, your voice cracking as you recalled the memory of your brother’s death. "You see, before I was even born, my parents had already known such pain. They had lost their first daughter, Freya, to a fever one harsh winter. My mother, shattered by grief, vowed she would never lose another child. So, when Hendrik was taken from us, our father forced her to act. He demanded she call upon the darkest of magics to protect us from ever falling prey again."

You paused, letting the weight of those words sink in. "Thus, the first vampires were born," you whispered. "But with this strength, this speed, this immortality, came a curse. A hunger."

"A hunger for what?" Helaena’s voice was soft, laced with the innocent curiosity she often carried, though now tinged with something darker—fear.

You met her gaze, your own eyes hard with the truth you could no longer conceal. "For blood," you answered, the word hanging in the air like a blade waiting to fall.

"We do not require food or water, those are indulgences. Pleasures we once took for granted, now rendered meaningless. What we need to sustain ourselves… is blood. Without it, we wither. We decay, like corpses left to rot in the ground."

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Helaena’s face paled, her fingers trembling slightly as she absorbed your words. Aemond’s expression remained unreadable, though the flicker in his eye betrayed the internal storm he was wrestling with.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to continue, knowing that this truth was just the beginning. "The blood lust consumes us if we let it. My family, we learned how to control it, how to live among humans without succumbing to the beast within. But it is always there, lurking beneath the surface."

The silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight too heavy to bear. Desperate to break the tension, you spoke before your thoughts could catch up to your words. "I could show you," you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond blinked, his singular eye narrowing in intrigue as he stepped closer, his presence commanding. "Show us? How?" His tone was measured, but you could hear the underlying curiosity—perhaps even a touch of suspicion.

"Through my memories," you replied softly. "One of my many gifts." You could feel the energy pulsing in your fingertips as you spoke, the ancient magic within you stirring. "It’s the only way for you to truly understand." You gestured for him to take a seat beside Helaena, who looked between the two of you with wide, expectant eyes.

Aemond hesitated for only a moment before following your instruction, settling beside his sister. His sharp gaze never left you, as if he was weighing every move you made, every word you spoke.

You stood before them, inhaling deeply as you focused your mind, your fingers lightly brushing their temples. The magic flowed, ancient and powerful, as you called upon the memory you intended to share.

The scene that unfolded was vivid, like stepping into a dream. The air was filled with laughter and song, the night lit by the glow of bonfires and candles as your village celebrated one of its strange but joyous holidays.

You had been so naïve then, your heart unburdened, the grief of Hendrik's death momentarily forgotten. You could feel the warmth of the night, the joy in the air as you twirled around the fire, Finn’s laughter ringing out as he spun you in a carefree dance.

The memory shifted—your joy dimming as you realized how late it had grown. You had stayed out far past your curfew, long after your family had returned home.

Panic clawed at your chest as you hurried through the darkened streets, the vibrant festival fading behind you as you made your way toward your family’s hut. The village that had felt so alive only moments before now seemed eerily quiet, shadows stretching long across the ground.

You moved without caution, without thought, only the mounting dread driving you forward as you rushed into the hut. What you saw froze your blood in your veins—a massacre.

You guided Aemond and Helaena deeper into the memory, forcing them to see, to feel what you had felt. The dread, the growing realization that something was terribly wrong.

You could feel Aemond stiffen beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away, his curiosity holding him still. Helaena’s breath quickened, her hand instinctively reaching for your wrist as the memory unfolded.

Everywhere you looked, blood painted the walls and floors, the very scent of it thick and suffocating. The bodies of your siblings lay strewn about, lifeless, their blood seeping into the ground. A scream tore from your throat, raw and filled with the kind of anguish only centuries could numb.

Your eyes immediately found Niklaus, lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes were closed, and a deep wound marred his chest. You dropped to your knees beside him, shaking his shoulders, your hands slipping against his blood-soaked skin. "Niklaus, wake up!" you sobbed, desperate, unwilling to accept what your eyes were telling you.

But Niklaus didn’t stir. None of them did. Elijah, Rebekah, Finn, Kol—they all lay broken and still.

More cries racked your body, your voice hoarse from screaming as you knelt among the fallen, each heartbeat filling you with an unbearable grief. Then, a sound from behind—a voice, cold and venomous, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"You know not how long I've waited for this moment."

Your blood ran colder than before. Slowly, you turned, your heart pounding as your gaze fell upon the figure in the doorway. Your father, Mikael, stood bathed in the blood of his children, his face twisted in cruel satisfaction. His sword dripped with the very essence of your kin, your family.

Before you could even draw breath, his sword flashed, and a sharp, searing pain pierced your chest. You gasped, a choked sound escaping your lips as you stumbled back, the life draining from you.

Your knees buckled beneath you as you collapsed beside Niklaus, your body growing cold. The strength seeped from your limbs as darkness edged in from the corners of your vision.

Mikael’s cold gaze remained fixed on you, watching as your life slipped away. Your final breath left your lips in a shudder, your hand still reaching for Niklaus, but he remained still.

The memory surged forth, a vivid nightmare that felt all too close, even after all the years that had passed. It was a dark night, mere weeks since your transformation, and chaos reigned in the village.

The villagers, fueled by fear and anger, sought to rid themselves of you and your siblings after the bloodshed that had followed your awakening—a bloodlust you had barely begun to comprehend.

Finn and Kol had already made their escape. Finn’s voice had been urgent, his grip firm on your arm as he implored you to join him.

But you had begged him to stay, to help your family escape together. Yet his resolve had faltered, and he had slipped away into the night, leaving you behind in a whirlwind of dread and desperation.

Elijah and Rebekah were frantically packing the remnants of their lives, their expressions strained with urgency. You could feel the weight of fear suffocating the air around you, a heavy tension that made your heart race.

The deep-seated hatred your father held for you and Niklaus loomed over you like a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment. It was a hatred that could ignite into violence without warning, and you knew it.

Your heart raced as you realized it was up to Niklaus to persuade your mother to flee with you. You paced, the flickering fire casting shadows that danced on the ground, mirroring the turmoil within you.

Then, at last, Niklaus entered your line of sight. He stepped through the trees, and the world around you came to a halt. There was something unsettling about him; his usual bravado was replaced by an unsettling vulnerability. His hands trembled slightly, fingers clenched at his sides as though they held the weight of the world.

"Niklaus," you asked, worry knotting in your stomach as you approached him, gently cupping his hands in yours. "What’s happened? Where’s Mother?"

His terrified blue eyes met yours, glistening with unshed tears. He shook his head, and dread filled the air between you. "She’s dead."

Time seemed to freeze, the world around you fading into a blur. You blinked, disbelief clouding your mind. "What?"

"I—" He swallowed hard, anguish etched on his features. "Father—he—he killed her."

The words crashed over you like a wave, cold and suffocating. Tears welled in your eyes as the harsh reality settled into your bones. "No. No! This can’t be!"

You turned away, desperation flooding your veins as you intended to return home, to your mother. But before you could move, Niklaus’s arms encircled your waist, holding you tightly against his chest. "You cannot go back!"

"Let me go, Niklaus!" you yelled, anguish spilling forth in choked sobs. "Mama! Mama!"

The name echoed in the forest, each cry a plea, each scream an invocation. You expected her to appear, to sweep you up into her embrace and assure you that everything would be alright. But the silence that followed was deafening, a stark reminder of the void she left behind.

You broke down in Niklaus's arms, the weight of your grief crashing over you like a tide. He held you tight, rocking you gently as if you were still a child. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the ache in your heart and the overwhelming emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole.

"A glooming peace this morning brings; the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head," you recited softly, your voice echoing in the dim light of the crypt. The words from the latest play felt heavier in the air, reflecting the turmoil that had once engulfed England.

"Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Your gaze drifted down to Finn, lying in that same accursed casket, the familiar silver dagger lodged deep in his chest. Time had moved on, and yet here you were, five hundred years later, still shackled by the past.

Your family had relocated to Denmark, leaving the ruins of England behind, but the pain of loss clung to you like a shroud. Finn remained as he was, forever caught in that moment, forever untouched by the passing centuries.

Elijah had gifted you the latest work from an emerging playwright, a man named William Shakespeare, with the hope that it would bring you some joy.

You had thought it fitting to share the story with Finn while he lay in eternal slumber, believing that perhaps the beauty of words might bridge the chasm between the living and the dead.

As you reached the poignant conclusion, tears brimmed in your eyes, the heart-wrenching tale resonating within your very soul.

You closed the book gently, feeling the weight of both grief and longing. Your heart ached not just for the characters but for the brother you had lost to a fate more cruel than death.

“That was quite sad, was it not?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked at Finn's serene face, still and undisturbed. "Even in the depths of darkness, love remains, yet it always seems to come at a terrible cost."

You ran your fingers gently over the spine of the book, as if the words could somehow transcend the veil of death and reach him. “I wish you were awake to truly enjoy this story with me,” you murmured, your voice barely breaking the silence of the mausoleum.

A sudden idea ignited in your mind, flickering like a candle in the dark. When you and your family had moved to a sprawling mansion in the lush countryside of Denmark, you had insisted on a grand mausoleum to be built for Finn.

It was a sanctuary for you and a place where Finn could rest peacefully, far removed from the grim dungeons of England that Niklaus had left him in.

Your gaze wandered to the entrance of the crypt, the heavy stone door that concealed the world outside. Then your eyes fell on the dagger lodged in Finn’s heart, its silver glinting in the dim light.

Perhaps? If only for a fleeting moment? The thought pulsed through you like a heartbeat, urging you onward.

As your hands glided over the hard wood of his coffin, they trailed down to Finn’s body, gently caressing his dark hair. You could almost feel the warmth of him again, a reminder of the brother you had lost.

Your heart raced, anticipation mingled with trepidation, as you finally wrapped your fingers around the silver dagger.

In that heartbeat, you paused, caught in the gravity of your decision. Then, with a deep breath, you began to pull it from his chest, the air heavy with unspoken consequences.

“What are you doing!”

The sharp voice sliced through the quiet, causing your hand to jerk away from the dagger and fly to your heart. You turned to find Niklaus standing in the doorway, a gift box clutched in his hands, yet his expression was thunderous, dark clouds gathering in his stormy blue eyes.

You shook your head rapidly, feeling your hands tremble with uncertainty. “Nothing, Nik, I promise.”

In the blink of an eye, Niklaus was in front of you, his speed making him appear like a shadow, silent and swift. The gift he had been holding now lay discarded on the cold stone floor.

His grip tightened around your arms, painfully firm, causing a pained whisper to escape your lips. His gaze bore into yours, filled with a tempest of betrayal and fury as he hissed, “Do not lie to me, sister.”

The weight of his anger made your heart race, and you winced as tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the sight of his hardened expression.

“I-I just thought Finn had been asleep long enough,” you stammered, your voice trembling, trying to explain while knowing there was no real justification that would soothe him.

His grip only tightened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. “So you betray me like this?” The raw accusation in his tone stung worse than his hold on you.

“No, Nik, never,” you whimpered, your voice fragile as you shook your head again. “Please, you're hurting me.”

But Niklaus seemed deaf to your plea, his rage drowning out your words. His grip tightened even more, and his voice rose with a venomous edge. “You forget he is daggered because of you! I did this for you!"

“I know, Nik,” you murmured softly, wincing as the pain in your arms deepened, both from his hold and the weight of his words.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Niklaus bellowed, his frustration clear as his voice echoed through the room, “Why can you not see that Finn would never do the same? He would never go to such lengths to keep you safe!”

Tears spilled freely from your eyes as you turned your gaze away from him, the overwhelming guilt pressing down on your chest. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking under the strain of his fury.

His words pierced through you like a dagger, each one sharp with betrayal and hurt. “I’ve protected you,” he continued, his voice cracking with emotion, “I’ve killed for you, sacrificed everything, and still, you go behind my back!”

Sobs overtook you, your entire body trembling as the weight of his anger and your guilt suffocated you. “Niklaus, please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper, your heart aching with the knowledge of how deeply you had wounded him.

At that moment, his rage faltered, and his piercing gaze locked onto yours. The room seemed to still as his next words fell like a chilling curse, low and filled with a cruel finality. “I should put a dagger in your heart.”

A sob tore from your throat as you shook your head, pleading with silent desperation. Just as you thought his fury would turn violent, the tension snapped.

Niklaus was suddenly knocked aside, and you found yourself enveloped in warm, protective arms. Elijah. His presence was steadying, his voice calm but commanding as he faced his volatile brother. “Niklaus! You are scaring her.”

“She should be scared!" Niklaus roared, pointing an accusing finger toward you, his fury still burning brightly. You buried your face deeper into Elijah's chest, seeking refuge from the storm that was your brother’s wrath. “Does she not understand? If Finn were awake, we’d have been put down by Mikael long ago!”

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to Elijah, your voice breaking under the weight of your guilt. "I'm sorry, Nik. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—”

Niklaus’ breathing was ragged, his rage simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to explode. But Elijah remained calm, his hold on you firm.

“Niklaus, leave,” Elijah said, his voice quiet yet authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

Niklaus inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering between you and Elijah, his anger barely contained. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. “You forget yourself, sister.”

His words cut deep, filled with cold warning. “Finn remains daggered for a reason. Do not mistake my love for you as permission to defy me.”

With that, he stormed out, his presence leaving a void as heavy as the tension still lingering in the air. The silence that followed was suffocating, and in its wake, your emotions broke free.

You collapsed into Elijah’s arms, your sobs shaking your body, the words tumbling from your lips in a fevered rush. “I didn’t mean to, Elijah. I swear, I didn’t mean to. Please, don't let him dagger me.”

Elijah held you close, his touch gentle as he caressed your head, whispering soothingly into your ear. “I won't, sweet sister,” he murmured, his voice a balm to your frightened heart. “I give you my word.”

The next morning, you woke with a dull ache in your chest, the familiar weight of sadness pressing down on you like an old wound that never healed.

The grand four-poster bed, with its silk curtains and velvet drapes, felt like a prison—beautiful, but suffocating. You turned over, pulling the heavy covers tighter around yourself, but the pain lingered, gnawing at your heart.

It always ached. That deep, unshakable sorrow had taken root long ago, twisting itself around your soul. You wondered, in those quiet, lonely moments, if you were going mad.

The only thing tethering you to sanity, to something real, was Elijah—his steady presence, his unwavering devotion. Without him, you feared you might fall apart completely.

As you shifted, your gaze caught something on the edge of the bed that made your breath catch in your throat. There, resting on the quilt, was the same gift box Niklaus had held the night before. Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, bringing it onto your lap as if it might break or vanish in your hands.

The lid opened with a soft creak, revealing a small, velvet jewelry case. Your heart stuttered as you lifted the lid, and tears welled in your eyes. Inside was a simple silver pendant, its surface gleaming faintly in the morning light. Encrusted in the center was an ornate "M" for Mikaelson.

Niklaus always did this. After the rage, after the terrifying outbursts, after he screamed at you and made you feel small—he would leave an apology gift, never speaking a word of the pain he caused.

It was his way. He never asked for forgiveness. He just assumed you would give it, time and time again.

And you did.

Every single time.

Your fingers trembled as you lifted the pendant from the case, letting the cool metal slide through your hands. With a resigned sigh, you fastened it around your neck, the chain resting against your skin like a silent promise. It was beautiful, yes, but it was also a reminder of the cycle you could never escape.

As the pendant settled against your chest, you wiped away the tears that threatened to spill over, whispering to yourself, “He did not mean it.” You had said it so many times before, hoping that if you repeated it enough, you might actually believe it.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Niklaus loved you. In his own broken, twisted way, he loved you and your siblings more than anything. But his love was a storm—wild, uncontrollable, and dangerous. And every time you forgave him, you found yourself standing in the eye of that storm, waiting for it to rage again.

Slowly, you pulled yourself back to the present, forcing Helaena and Aemond from the depths of your memories as you stepped away. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and your trembling hands wiped the dampness from your cheeks. You had lived lifetimes hiding this pain, but tonight it had clawed its way out.

Helaena’s face was pale, her own tears mirroring yours. She trembled, wide-eyed, as if the weight of your confession threatened to break her. And Aemond... Aemond’s single eye bore into you with a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something far more devastating.

He stared at you as if you were a ghost, a shadow of the person he thought he knew. For the first time, it seemed, he truly saw you—broken and damaged in ways that not even centuries could mend.

You forced a tight, bitter smile, the words catching in your throat as you truly introduced yourself, "I am the youngest child of the original witch, Esther Mikaelson. My siblings and I are the first of our kind—vampires born from blood and magic. We are the strongest creatures in this world, and yet..." Your voice wavered, betraying the sorrow that clung to every word, "we are damaged beyond repair."

You looked between them, your eyes hollow, carrying the weight of endless centuries of pain. "We live without hope, but we will never die. We are the definition of 'cursed'."

The room fell silent, a heavy, oppressive stillness that mirrored the truth of your existence. You swallowed hard, repeating the words that had once been a promise but had long since turned to chains, the mantra that bound you and your siblings to each other.

"Always and forever."

Reader's Wardrobe

(she's wearing the middle dress in this chapter)

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

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[wheneverfeasible]

When Steve’s parents announced their divorce, Steve told Eddie he loved him. They weren’t dating at the time, though Steve thought that the feeling was mutual to at least some extent since Eddie always flirted back with him, but he hadn’t been certain.

He had known his parents stopped loving each other years ago. Hell, he didn’t know if they had ever truly loved each other, but in any case, Steve knew.

His parents decided to sell the house, to move away from Hawkins with its cursed misfortune and small town gossip, and there was no talk of either of them taking Steve with them. Which, sure, he was grown, he hadn’t been part of the conversation at all.

Steve was left at a crossroads on what to do. So, distraught at his change in circumstances, he’d gone straight to Eddie’s and confessed his feelings because he had to know if it was at all possible for anyone to want him the way he wanted them.

Luckily enough for Steve, Eddie did!

The Munsons still had a decent amount left over from the government hush money after everything, so Eddie took his share (Wayne tried to get him to take more since all Wayne had lost was physical possessions and the trailer while Eddie almost lost his life, but Eddie would only agree to a 50/50 split) and together he and Steve threw caution to the wind and found a small place to rent together in one of the new complexes being built as part of the town’s rejuvenation project.

Things were going great. They still visited Wayne, who could now stop working such long hours at the plant and who had moved to a small fixer upper on the outskirts of town. He even moved up the ladder at the plant after some of the higher ups were lost in the “earthquakes” (R.I.P.), which offered better pay and benefits.

Wayne even started dating again, which Eddie informed Steve of in such a scandalized tone, but Steve could tell that Eddie was happy for his uncle, ribbing the older man when they had stopped by one morning and the man hadn’t even been home, stumbling back an hour later with lipstick stains on his shirt’s collar.

(Wayne had told him that he was going to call the cops on them for breaking and entering while he was gone, but there was no heat in it as they set chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee before him, having made use of the kitchen while he was out.)

Wayne never introduced any of the women he dated to Eddie and Steve, saying that it wasn’t proper to introduce anyone to the kids yet until he was certain that things were serious, never mind that the “kids” were well into their 20s now.

(Steve also felt a warmth at being included as a “kid” of Wayne’s, however, filling a hole in his heart that his parents had left behind, though his mother had recently reached out to him to rekindle their relationship. His father remained radio silent.)

Eventually, however, there was someone Wayne kept seeing repeatedly, someone he’d met while outside of town when he was at some convention for work and her car had broken down outside of his motel room. She hadn’t left the motel room until the next morning, and Wayne was certain it was just a single night of passion, but…

They had really hit it off, it seemed, and though Wayne hadn’t thought such an amazing and sensual—(“Uncle Wayne! For the love of everything holy, unholy, and whatever’s in-between, please don’t say sensual!)—woman would be interested in him, they exchanged numbers. And then, the day after he’d told her he should be home again from the trip, she called him.

Things only progressed from there, and soon enough there were talks of something committed, of something truly serious, and after a while, Wayne broke the news.

“Boys, my partner is going to be moving back to Hawkins and, while we know it’s a giant leap, we decided to move in together.”

As it turns out, apparently the woman is actually from Hawkins too but had left after the earthquakes tore the town apart, so she is someone that they actually knew. Wayne still won’t tell them who it is, however. He seems a little embarrassed by that, actually, but he also tells them that he is the happiest he’s ever been and he was willing to fight to be with her, so what else can they do but accept that?

They are thus excited for him, excited to finally meet her (again?), and the plan is set that they would have a family dinner together once she was in town. Steve and Eddie are, of course, moderately worried given the whole being queer thing, but Wayne assures them that they will be safe. That Wayne had made damned certain that both his boys would be safe.

(Steve again feels that warmth of belonging to someone, of being loved and cared for and supported in a way he’d never known before.)

And then the day arrives. Steve and Eddie show up early, looking pretty damn spiffy they believe, and help Wayne get the dinner ready, though it’s more like a late lunch really. Eventually, they hear the sounds of tires outside of Wayne’s house.

Wayne, smiling and looking absolutely besotted, moves toward the front door to let his girlfriend in without missing a second. Steve and Eddie hear the door open and close from the kitchen, hear quietly murmured words and what disgustingly sounds like kissing, and then there’s footsteps and—

Steve turns around to greet this mysterious woman, a smile on his face, before dropping the bowl of salad in his hands as shock and something very much like horror make itself known to him.

“MOM???!”

~

Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff

[fountainpenguin]

Wild Life Session 1 takeaways thus far:

- Tiny Grian blends in with the fish

- Scar and Jimmy are doing their best... I don't have anything specific to say, but I like their cherry hill base plans. And I'm just really glad Scar decided to call them Bam Boys instead of Bang Boys.

- Grian's reputation as a cheater precedes him and it cracks me up... He really is out here like "You really think I'd cheat on you guys? I've been gone for like 5 minutes" and Mumbo and Skizz are just not having it.

- Grian: "I'm not here to share." [Realizes Martyn took all the sugarcane right in front of him.] "Oh, wait... Can I have some?"

- Etho calling BigB his big brother and saying he's nervous about wandering away and needs someone to hold his hand...

- I really enjoyed the Etho-Bdubs banter over the black horse. Bdubs had so many great lines throughout this episode. I especially liked "Wait, I can't take this- That's a bad example for the children."

- Giant Etho and Tiny Scott in the boat...

- Martyn looking around in confusion when he can't find Ren like "I think Ren shrank so much, he perished."

- Ahasbands... save me, Wild Life Ahasbands... Martyn gushing over Mumbo (to Ren) and imitating Mumbo's voice and talking about how cool he is (followed by their later teasing chat over Martyn inventing the wheel) is killing me slowly...

-> sldkfjsdklfj wait, Martyn really is gunning to bring Mumbo on his team, huh? Yeah, that's not gonna last.

- Ren and Martyn talking about how they were going to claim the top of the cherry hill unless someone already put down a sign, and then they reach the top of a long climb and there's just a sign saying Scar and Jimmy live there. Comedy gold...

Martyn: I think [Grian] thinks of you as 'less than half.' Mumbo, who has spent an entire episode bragging about being tiny and loathing anyone big: Or more than half. That'd be worse.

I'm crying.

- I enjoy Martyn saying "I love that for us" in regards to a group he's trying to schmooze his way into, but isn't yet part of.

- I'm fascinated by Sub 1 Club's obsession with getting as tiny as they can and opting to go into swim mode as a form of land travel.

- Oh gosh, Mumbo knows Martyn so well... The lack of faith he has in his honesty is incredible.

- Mumbo screaming at Martyn, "I knew you were tall! I knew it! You're just pretending to be small!" in regards to his personality despite him being small enough to fit in a pocket.

- Martyn leaving by saying "I'm not your friend anymore" sdklfjskd?? Drama in the Ahasband household tonight (/jk)

- Pearl, reluctant to kill animals that have low respawn: Yeah, but porkchops...... Scott: Taste great; yeah, you're right!

- The dichotomy between the other groups I watched, who mostly kept trying to mine or build after they shrank, and GGG + Impulse who started doing parkour.

- CACKLING at Pearl dying, asking her teammates for food, and Cleo looks straight at her and says "Arguably, you shouldn't need any" since her hunger meter refilled when she died.

- Impulse is going to be a really interesting balance to GGG because Cleo is being lightly "aggressive" towards Pearl (Denying her food, teasing her and Impulse for having a thing for soup since they're the Soup Group with Gem). Cleo and Scott cling to each other a lot, so Pearl having a close friend and not ending up a third wheel is interesting.

Scott, digging, calling up in a wobbly voice with his heavy Scottish accent: Pearl, there's a drowned down here! Pearl: There's a... clown down there? Impulse: There is now!

- I doubt the bit will be continuing, but wouldn't that be hilarious if the Clocker family tree extended due to Cleo joking that Pearl and Impulse were her parents?

- Considering I'm currently in the "Impulse and Cleo struggling with half-smothered resentment and weirdness over 3rd Life and stuff" arc in Dog's Life... their conversation about Cleo saying she doesn't trust Impulse is perfect timing. That is literally the arc I've been posting.

- Etho said they're playing in a 500 x 500 world instead of a 700 x 700 one this time. There are so many people this time, so this should be interesting!

-> Even on a server brimming with people, BigB's alone again... (It is very late when I'm scheduling this, so I will watch him another time <3)

[wearebarca]

10. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 10

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9*

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

Word count: 5,4k

Warnings: none for this one, lot of fluff

Her conversation with Katie served as a bitter distraction during her flight back to Barcelona. She had not let herself think about the words that were spat at her face too much, wanting to enjoy the small amount of time she had left with her friends. When she arrived at the apartment, well after the two Arsenal players, she was met with two sets of eyes on her, both harbouring silent questions. One smile was enough for them to understand that there would be no talking about this and they simply motioned her to join them on the sofa. They spent the rest of the night watching cheesy romance movies and judging the characters on their poor choices and horrible taste in man.

Right now though, sitting 30 000 feet above the ground, with nothing but the soft chatter of the other passengers, Rosalie could not help but drift back to what was said. Alexia wasn’t like that. In the months she had spent with this team, she had never felt like she was being used, and she knew that the Irish defender was simply trying to get under her skin, but Rosalie had not completely healed. She was still fragile, and had just started to feel like she had found somewhere she belonged. Katie’s words, even if she would not admit it, had successfully planted a seed of doubt in her mind.

Stepping out of the airport in the warm Barcelona sun was such a relief for the photographer, who felt the tension leave her shoulders. She took a long, steady breath, the first satisfying one since boarding the plain, and closed her eyes to try and center herself a little. She had asked Lucy to come pick her up, and was slightly dreading the road back to her apartment since she was certain Leah had already told Keira about the events from the night before, and Keira would have, without a doubt, told Lucy. What Rosalie did not expect was to see a certain tattooed defender with a sophisticated Norwegian by her side.

“Hola guapa! How was your trip?” Mapi said, hugging the brunette and immediately taking her bags from her hands. Ingrid was next in line for a hug and handed her a cup of coffee, earning a grateful smile from the smaller woman.

“It was busy, very nice though. It felt good to see my old gang.” She said, refusing to get onto more details. From the side look Ingrid sent her, Rosalie knew that Ingrid was aware of some details and she was praying she wouldn’t ask. Mapi was already walking ahead, crumbling under all the bags she insisted she would carry alone and was beckoning them to follow to the car park.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you guys, but I thought Lucy was coming to get me.”

“ She was, but someone,” She said, sending a loving stare at her overly excited girlfriend, “really wanted to pick you up.” The revelation warmed the brunette’s heart who momentarily forgot the harsh words uttered towards her.

“Are you too tired to go get some food with us?” As much as the brunette was dreaming of her own bed at the moment, she also did not want to be alone.

“No no I’ll be fine, as long as it's a quiet place.”

“We were thinking about getting it to go and eat at our place, you could meet Bagheera too!” Mapi said, putting the brunette’s bag in the trunk of her car. Rosalie smiled and quickly agreed. They stopped at a small restaurant and ordered paella that they would share. Their apartment was vast and very tastefully decorated. Rosalie could see the Scandinavian twist in the decor and smiled at some colourful addition that could only be from the Spanish woman.

But the most interesting element of the space was the little ball of black fur sleeping soundly on the beige sofa. Rosalie made a beeline for the little creature, completely forgetting about the house tour she was currently in. She sat next to the cat who’s head instantly went up. She sniffed the photographer’s hand and got up, only to brush its head against her hand and start to purr loudly.

“ Bonjour mon chaton, tu es si belle, oh oui mais quelle beauté, et si gentille j’y crois pas.” She said softly while petting the small cat completely, unaware of Mapi’s presence next to her.

“I understand Alexia, hearing that just made me feel things amiga.” she said laughing while setting up the coffee table up for supper.

“What?”

“She is my best friend, I know her. Also she has been in a foul mood ever since she came back from camp and I’m pretty sure that it’ll change as soon as she sees you tomorrow.” Rosalie sent a look to Ingrid who made a face and silently agreed to her girlfriend’s statement. “And… We all saw you two back at the club.” She said winking at her.

Rosalie gave up playing dumb and simply rolled her eyes at the Spanish woman. “All of you?”

“Well, Sandra and Irene are aware since it was their plan to make Alexia mad. Patri and Pina suspect, Lucy and Keira obviously, and the rest can see that something is going on with their captain but can’t seem to pinpoint what.” Ingrid said, handing the French-Canadian a plate.

“They are blind yes.” Mapi said

“Mostly intimidated probably. Alexia is extremely protective of her private life.” Ingrid said, pouring them all a glass of white wine

“You don’t say.” Rosalie said, taking a sip, “I understand though, it seems like Martina has no boundaries. Anyway, how was the national break for you guys?”

The conversation flowed nicely all night, with Ingrid and Rosalie sharing about their respective camps and Mapi keeping them up to date on what had happened with Barça while they were gone. The brunette didn’t check the time once, which meant that she stayed very late and ended up accepting the couple’s offer to take the guest room.

National camp was always a hassle, and her weekend at Leah’s wasn’t exactly a vacation either. Add to that a night spent in an unfamiliar bed and the unrelenting flow of energy that was the Spanish defender, even early in the morning, Rosalie looked and felt like a zombie. She walked in the training center with her sunglasses still perched on her nose and a vice grip on the large coffee cup in her hand.

Dealing with Martina was the last thing she needed in her state, so she decided that it would be best if she sent one of the other photographers on the pitch, just so she could catch up on what she had missed during her time away.

It would be a small week for the photographer, with only three days before the weekend. There would be a game on Saturday but she was excited about it. Game days had become her favourite part of the job.

The thing that stressed her the most was her race quickly approaching. The Barcelona marathon was less than a week away and the French-Canadian wondered how she would deal with her level of exhaustion, work and her last lap of training.

Time seemed to pass without Rosalie noticing. She was so caught up in her emails she completely ignored her hunger. She kept working like that all through lunch and almost jumped when she was pulled out of her trance by her door opening and Lucy barging in her office.

“Didn’t your mum teach you to knock before entering?”

“Oh she’s sassy today.” Lucy said, taking a seat in the chair facing the brunette and unpacking hers and the photographer’s lunch. One look at the sandwich and her emails were forgotten. Without even glancing at the older woman, she grabbed the sandwich and took a huge bite.

“You’re welcome, ungrateful twat.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes and finished swallowing. “Merci maman.”

“Are you gonna survive your day?” She asked, grabbing her own sandwich.

“Who knows, I feel like I got buried alive under all those emails.” She said, taking a sip off her cold coffee. “ I’m so tired I can’t even focus.”

“Can’t you work from home?” The brunette took a second to contemplate the idea, and came to the conclusion that nothing productive could come from her staying here.

“I could. I probably should.” She said, A big sigh left her lips as she lowered her head to her desk

“Are you the lead photographer on Saturday’s game or are you resting for your race?”

“I’ll be working, the game is early so I’ll be fine. Leah, Lia, Steph, Beth and Viv are coming to see the game too aren’t they.” She asked, sitting up and rubbing her palms on her eyes in a vain attempt to wake herself up.

“Yes, they’ll arrive the night before. The LW’s will stay at our place while the rest have hotel rooms in town. ” Just like they had promised, her friends were coming to cheer for her during her marathon. They would be staying at Lucy and Keira’s place and hotels so the French-Canadian would not have to worry about hosting and focus solely on her race. She was touched that her friends had thought about this, but the thing that would likely keep her up, was the thought of her old life and new life colliding. She knew that in the football world, everyone knew everyone. They all had heard of each other, or played against each other, sometimes even played together. But having them all interact outside of football, seeing the girls that were with her through some of the toughest times meet the people that had brought back her happiness, that was a different story. What if they didn’t get along. Afterall, England and Spain were famous rivals on the national scene and she was very close to both of the respective captains.

Rosalie could feel the start of a nasty headache creeping in as she closed her laptop. “Allez Frenchy, gather up your stuff and go home.”

The English player was already up and picking up the empty wrappers from their lunch. “Have you spoken to Alexia since you came back?”

The mention of the captain made her heart leap a little in her chest. She had wanted to, really, but the words from Katie still resonated in her mind and the thought of them being even remotely close to the truth had kept her from reaching out. She stayed silent, knowing that Lucy was aware that she had not.

“We didn’t tell her anything if that’s what you’re scared of. We only said that you were tired from the trip. She’s clearly worried tho.”

“I’ll speak to her tonight.” She said with a smile, walking out of her office. From the windows, she could see the whole team in action. As if she had felt her presence, Alexia’s head snapped up just in time to see the photographer pass.

She could see from her posture alone just how tired she was. She knew the woman had not spent a proper night at her place since she came back, so inviting her to hers seemed like a lot. She didn’t want the brunette to feel like she was suffocating her, so she decided that she’d let her do the first move. If she wanted to see her it would be on her terms, without feeling obligated to.

She was at peace with her decision for a total of twenty minutes. The look on Lucy’s face when she came back on the pitch, along with Keira's quiet but audible “is she ok?” were enough for the blonde to lose her cool. She herself had a hard time understanding why she felt protective over the brunette but truly it didn’t matter.

Concentrating for the rest of training turned out to be a difficult task, but Alexia sped through the rest of the exercises and was one of the first off the pitch. This behavior was very uncommon for the Barcelona captain which left a few of the girls confused. Only two had an idea why the midfielder was so eager to end this session.

“You should bring her pasta. It’s what Sara has recommended her to eat a week before her race and she’s a sucker for good pasta.” Lucy said when Alexia walked past her. The midfielder stopped in her tracks.

“Rosalia has not had a moment alone since she came back, you don’t think I should let her be?” She was surprised that the woman who acted like a big sister towards the photograph would encourage her to pursue the French-Canadian.

“I can’t tell you why, but being alone is not what she needs right now.” Lucy said with a hint of sadness and worry in her eyes. “Oh, and bring Nala, she’ll be so happy.” That was all the Catalonian needed to hear. Her plan was simple. She would go to her apartment to leave her training bag and pick up Nala. She would then go to the market and get all the ingredients she needed and walk back to Rosalie’s place.

It was around dinner time when Alexia arrived in front of the photographer’s building. She was glad she didn’t have to wait long until someone exited so she could let herself in without having to ring a random doorbell. The thing the blonde had clearly not thought of, was her little dog remembering the space, and most likely, smelling the photographer through the door.

As soon as Alexia reached the apartment door, Nala started to bark and jump, scratching the door with her little paws. Alexia cringed at the ruckus her dog was making and tried to calm her but nothing was working. She was about to drop all her bags and pick up the little beast when the sound of the door opening made her look up.

Rosalie was groggy. She was sleeping on her couch after succumbing to her fatigue while working when barking had pulled her from her slumber. She knew that there were no dog owners in her building and the sound was from right outside her door. She surely wasn’t prepared to see Alexia crouched down in front of her door, fighting with the small dog who was hell bent on freeing herself and running towards the photographer.

“Ale? What are you doing here?” The footballer stood up with the little excited dog still wiggling in her arms. Rosalie smiled widely and motionned to the player to pass Nala to her, which she gladly did. While Rosalie was busy greeting the fluff ball, Alexia picked up the grocery bags and made her way to the brunette's kitchen. She was happy to see that the woman had not started dinner yet and immediately started to prepare the food.

“ Ale, are you gonna tell me why you are here?” She asked, sitting down at the breakfast bar, Nala still in her arms.

“I am making you dinner! I can go after, if you want me to, but I know you are tired and I wanted to do this for you.” Rosalie could feel tears threatening to fall as she watched the blonde work silently. It took a moment for Alexia to realize the smaller woman had not moved from her spot in front of her.

“You can do your things like normal Rosalie, just act like I am not here.” She said, finally turning towards her. Upon seeing her eyes, Alexia walked around the kitchen island and crouched down in front of the photographer. “What’s wrong?”

“ Nothing, this is perfect.” The brunette said, whipping away her tears with the hand that wasn’t holding Nala. Alexia understood why the English couple was worried. She took her hand and guided her to the sofa where she could see a pillow and a pile of blankets.

“ You can rest more, I will wake you when the food is ready.” Rosalie got comfortable once more, with the little pomeranian snuggling in her arms. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep once more.

It took Alexia a little more than half an hour to cook enough food so that the brunette would also have lunches ready. The sight she was met with when she moved to the living room warmed her heart. The brunette was bundled up in thick blankets in a fetal position and all that could be seen from the small dog were her little ears sticking out of the blanket. Alexia quickly snapped pictures of the two before carefully waking her up.

They ate together in comfortable silence, simply contempt in each other’s presence. Alexia insisted on doing the dishes herself, not wanting for the photographer to have anything to do once she would be gone. Rosalie took place at the counter with her laptop. She needed to finish a couple things before bed but she found that watching the captain so at ease in her kitchen was very distracting. This was as domestic as it could be, and it felt so natural, easy.

Once she was done, Alexia took a seat next to the photographer, closed her laptop and scooted closer. She turned around to face the blonde and as soon as their eyes met, she felt the remaining tension slowly escape her. Alexia’s hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair that had escaped from Rosalie’s bun, and finished her path on her cheek. She leaned into her hand and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of her palm.

“Thank you so much.” Rosalie whispered, not wanting to break the stillness of this moment.

“I am happy to do this for you.” She whispered back, slowly inching closer. “Rosalia..”

The word was but a breath on the footballer’s lips. She was so close Rosalie felt the air tickling her cheek. Their forehead connected, closing the distance even more.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” She sounded almost uncertain, as if she was scared the brunette would reject her. The thought alone almost pulled a chuckle from Rosalie.

“Oui, please.” She said, almost desperately, “You never have to ask again.”Her lips felt like coming home. How is it that after so little time, this woman had managed to break down all her defense and slithered her way into the depths of her mind.

The kiss was soft, unhurried. Their lips danced together, only parting to let out shuddering breaths. Rosalie reached out, pulling the blonde closer. It was like every part of her being was calling out for her. The heat was rising quickly, the need to be closer, feel her warmth invade all-consuming.

Rosalie was almost ashamed at the whine that escaped her when the footballer pulled away, leaving the forehead connected, as if she too, couldn’t fathom being separated just yet. “Rosalia, this is not what you need tonight.” She whispered, her hand caressing her cheek.

As good as her lips felt, Rosalie knew that the blonde was right. And yet, she could not let the blonde go. “ Can you stay please?” She asked in a broken voice that made Alexia’s heart shatter.

“Of course preciosa.” Alexia borrowed the same clothes she did the night before camp and stayed in the living room while the photographer went to shower. There was a shelf in the bookcase with what seemed like a collection of photo albums. They all had years written on the spine. Alexia picked one from what she assumed would be the brunette’s college years and sat on the sofa.

She was still flipping through the pages when the brunette emerged from the bathroom, hair still wet and only wearing underwear and an oversized t-shirt. It took a lot of self control for the blonde to keep her eyes from trailing down her toned legs. She put aside the album and took the hand Rosalie was holding out for her.

They settled together in bed, Alexia’s arms wrapped around her protectively. In this position, sleep came to her very easily. It was arguably the best sleep she had had since leaving for camp and the brunette most definitely needed it.

The wake up in itself, was everything but peaceful. She could not breathe. It was like her face was blocked by something warm and fury, with hair getting in her nose and mouth. She panicked and rose from the bed, grabbing the ball of fluff that had conveniently chosen her face as a resting spot. She coughed up a few hairs, still holding the dog at arm's length.

She was still groggy from sleep, but it did not keep her from registering the sound of Alexia’s laughter echoing next to her. “Your little beast almost killed me and you’re laughing?” She said indignantly, bringing Nala to her chest and kissing her head. She simply could not be mad at the little dog, but could definitely direct her anger towards the owner.

“You were so peaceful, you slept through the alarm, so I thought you needed something a little stronger to wake you up.” The smile on Alexia’s face was simply radiant. Her hair was wild from her night of sleep and her eyes were shining brightly in the morning light. Rosalie could not do anything but smile at the blonde and put the little dog down, only to jump on the blonde to playfully attack her.

This playful mood persisted all throughout the day. From the car ride to Alexia’s place so she could drop off Nala and pick up her training stuff, to their interaction on the pitch during training. Rosalie managed to capture the biggest amount of shots of Alexia smiling at the camera, although everyone knew it wasn’t at the camera she was smiling at, but rather the small woman behind it.

The build up to Saturday’s game was a lot smoother than usual. With the Barça captain’s mood having brightened a lot and the excitement of a home game palpable, all smiles could be seen in the viewing room. As soon as the meeting started, there was nothing but determination written on the girls faces.

There was only one who seemed out of it. She was always like this before a race. In her head, quiet, but inside, her mind was roaring. Her fears, her strategies, her goal pace, her desired splits, she was mapping everything out, leaving nothing to chance.

To everyone’s eyes, Rosalie looked empty, which concerned some of the girls who, instead of disturbing the photographer, seeked out answers in Lucy and Keira. The girls knew that Rosalie was simply in her game mode and would likely stay that way til after the race.

The only person who seemed to pull a smile from the brunette was none other than the captain herself. However fleeting it might have been, she was proud to have been the one to make her smile.

Sunday was game day, and Rosalie vowed to herself , for the sake of her friends, to be there for them. Tonight, she would have time to worry for herself. So she pulled up at the stadium coffee in hand and ready for a home game.

She was the one capturing the player's arrival. She loved this part almost just as much as the game itself. The girls were all smiles yet again, confident in their abilities and preparation. Upon seeing the photographer smiling they all greeted her similarly, often hugging her or high fiving her.

As always, when Alexia came around the corner, Rosalie’s breath caught in her throat. She was wearing a dark green tennis skirt, a white shirt and that leather jacket that made the photographer drool. She was mesmerizing and Rosalie could hardly hide her staring even behind her camera.

The blond stopped in front of her and opened her arms. Her familiar smell automatically calmed her.

« Ça va bien aller, Rosie, tu es prête. » She whispered in her ear before pulling away. Rosalie was too stunned to speak. Although heavily accented, Alexia’s sentence was flawless and the photographer could not help but smile widely at the thought of the footballer learning this for her.

Out on the field, the sun was shining bright and the stands were almost full. She immediately spotted her little group of friends frantically waving her way. She waved back and prepped her equipment.

It was a wonderful game. Five nil with a beautiful header from Alexia and a goal from Mapi. The pictures she had taken of their celebration together were some of her favourites she had taken so far at Barcelona. It showed perfectly how strong their friendship was. She’d had to print it out and give it to them later.

As she suspected, her friends had walked down and were stepping on the pitch as she was taking off her media bib. Leah was the first to reach the photographer, sneaking behind her and grabbing her in a tight hug from behind.

“ Howdy Frenchy, ready for your big day?” She asked, resting her chin on the brunette’s shoulder. Rosalie grabbed her hands around her waist and laughed as the blond lifted her and essentially carried her towards the group of Arsenal players. She did not let go, even after putting her down.

Alexia was very aware of that fact. She was on the other side of the pitch signing jerseys and greeting fans, but she could not help but keep a close eye on the brunette. She had seen Leah approach her, seen the way her arms had wrapped around her, and this was simply not sitting right with her.

She was aware, in the back of her mind, that Rosalie had confirmed that Leah was with the Swiss captain, and of the remaining fans' eyes following her every move, but for a second, these details evaded her mind.

She crossed the distance separating her and the photographer in a few seconds and arrived behind the two. The only problem was that she did not, for the life of her, think about what she would say once she had reached the little group.

The girls got quiet upon seeing the Spanish captain. Rosalie and Leah both made a curious face before turning around. Rosalie smiled widely at the Catalonian and opened her arms.

“That was such a beautiful goal Ale!” She said while the girl was holding her.

“Thank you bonita.” They were then met with a stunned group of five women who had certainly not put Alexia Putellas hugging their best friend in front of them, and a stadium full of fans, on their bingo card.

“Hola,” The Spanish woman said upon seeing their dumbfounded looks. She stepped closer to them, her hand never leaving the brunette’s waist. “Did you enjoy the game?”

They all knew each other, having played against each other for club and country, so introductions were not a need. It was very weird for Rosalie, seeing everyone interact like that. She noticed Alexia was colder towards Leah, and the reaction was clearly amusing the English captain. They all exchanged a few words, asking about their season so far, with Viv and Alexia clearly hitting it off thanks to them being the biggest football nerds the brunette had ever met. During their conversation, Alexia’s hand never left Rosalie’s hips. It was a calming, grounding touch which the photographer welcomed greatly.

The stadium was slowly emptying. The fans were bustling with happiness after such a wonderful victory. Even the staff was nearly done picking up the remaining equipment and eager to go home to finally relax. The only people on the pitch were Rosalie and her small band of footballers. They all spoke and laughed together, unaware that someone was watching them.

From the mezzanine, Martina had a perfect view of the Arsenal players along with the Barcelona captain and photographer. An idea started to bloom in her mind.

“Ok I think it might be time to go, Rosalia.” Alexia whispered in her ear. She was right, dinner was quickly approaching and she needed to be in bed early. The start of the race was at eight in the morning and god knows Rosalie would not sleep much tonight.

She in fact, did not. She was up at five, already dressed in her lucky red sports bra, a black zip-up hoodie and running short, and pacing around. Her oatmeal was getting cold on her breakfast counter. Lucy was picking her up. It was their little tradition. Ever since she had moved to England, every racing event she had been a part of, Lucy had always been the one driving her, something about needing family to be there for her.

Lucy arrived at her apartment at six, because she knew that Rosalie would not have eaten anything. It was always the same. She would arrive an hour before the agreed time, eat breakfast with the Canadian, more like force feeding her, and leave, all of this mostly done in silence. Rosalie always felt bad for her pre-race attitude but Lucy understood. She had worked with countless superstitious players with weird and annoying rituals, silence was the most peaceful she had encountered for sure.

It was usually when they arrived on site that Rosalie’s tongue got loose. “Will they be there at the start?”

“Yes, and someone will be there at every water stop, everything is already planned.” Lucy said, squeezing the photographer’s hand. They got out of the car and Rosalie headed straight for the English women and engulfed her in a hug. “Thank you for being here, ma grande soeur.”

“Je t’aime, tu le sais ça”

“Je t’aime aussi, Luce”

The tent was full of runners. Some clearly experienced and others who seemed like it was their first ever race. Rosalie respected all of them, she knew how hard your first was and she valued all the training that went into this sport. She also loved the community built around it, whatever your level of experience, they were all here together with a common goal in mind, reach the finish line. She found an empty bench at the back of the tent and pulled out her trusty Asics Metaspeed. Before lacing them up, she took out her noise cancelling earbuds and pooped them in. She hardly ever ran with music, but she purchased them solely for their nose cancelling abilities.

Ten minutes before the star and Rosalie was outside the tent stretching. She could see the growing crowd assembling around the inflatable arch where the signal would be given. Her friends were likely already there, with Beth, Leah and Keira complaining about how early it was and Viv, Lia and Lucy attempting to tame their grumpiness.A part of her mind hoped she would see Alexia somewhere, maybe with some of the Barça girls, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up, after all, she had not even thought about properly inviting them.

Five minutes before the start. She was walking slowly towards the starting line, making her path among the other runners. She had a goal in mind, and so she needed to start this race at the front. She smiled at the other racers, the apprehension palpable in the air, as she advanced more and more towards the front line.

Two minutes before the signal. Rosalie was happy with the spot she had managed to slither into. Almost in the middle, completely at the front. all she could hear was the sound of her breathing. Her heart was pounding in her chest as her eyes scanned the crowd for the first time.

Hundreds of people were screaming and cheering for their loved ones, and at the front, right behind the gate was her family. She smiled at them and waved. It took a second for her to realize that they were in fact, not alone. More than half of the Barcelona femini team was at their side, cheering with homemade signs.

Thirty seconds before the start, Rosalie's green eyes met with hazel ones. She was smiling, a calm expression on her face. She was here. A new kind of determination lit up inside her.

The signal was finally heard and all that was left to do was put one foot in front of the other.

[just-a-ghost00]

General messages for the collective

Group 1

2 of pentacles, 2 of swords, King of cups, ace of cups, page of swords, queen of cups, back of the deck 7 of pentacles

You lack clarity and balance concerning a person that you love. This is a romantic interest that holds a lot of importance to you, considering they are represented by a King. This person may have played hot and cold with you, either voluntarily or because of their life circumstances. Their actions and words got you confused and you may have thought that this person wasn't truthful or reliable. Soon, you will gain clarity on this person's point of view and experience. You will be able to understand their stance better and there may be a renewal in your connection. Because clarity has been made about feelings and expectations for the connection. Either you or they communicated clearly how you felt about the situation which will enable both of you to heal and regain balance in the connection. That could either mean that you will receive an apology from this person and explanations about their behavior which will allow you to move on from them or the conversation could bring you closer and help you move on to a new step together. With the Queen of cups also being present in the reading, I get the feeling that this person considers you an equal and values your input. It is at least very obvious that they care about you and do not wish to cause you harm. With this set of cards, I don't sense any ill will coming from this person. This isn't to say that their actions haven't had a bad effect on you but this person's first intention was never to bring you down or make fun of you. The ace of cups is at the center of the deck. So the heart of the matter is compassion, love, understanding. This card can symbolize a new start in a connection, the will to open up to another and share feelings. It's the blossoming of interest and the expression of a genuine care. The 7 of pentacles at the back of the deck suggests patience and caution, taking the time to assess the situation and leave up to fate a part of the outcome. The 7 of pentacles indicates that has person has done what was necessary to set their goals into motion and have reached a stage where there is nothing more that they can do to ensure a positive outcome. The ball is no longer in their court.

Possible confirmation signs : repeating 2s, water signs, letters P, C & S

Group 2

7 of pentacles, 8 of swords, King of cups, 9 of cups, 9 of wands, page of cups, back of the deck 8 of wands

You may have felt drawn to group 1 as well. If that is the case, I suggest that you check that group too. Because the third card is exactly the same and the 7 of pentacles was group 1's back of the deck. So your energy and group 1's seem to be linked. I have the energy here of people that feel like they gave a situation their everything and are running out of options to make it progress. Yet, they haven't given up on the idea of succeeding, because this situation matters a lot to them. This is something that they are deeply emotionally invested in. It is a dream of theirs, whether that dream is in the form of a project or a person, maybe even both. This person is determined to fight for that dream no matter what but they're at a loss at what to do. They feel like they tried everything, used all the tricks up their sleeve and thought about it over and over again. Yet, they can't seem to find a solution that allows them to get the desired result. They feel like they're in a dead end and they have no emergency exit or detour route that they can take to get where they want. They feel stuck and exhausted, discouraged but still adamant on trying their best until their last breath. I get a feeling of urgency, like "if I don't act soon enough I'm gonna lose my dream", "I will lose the opportunity and I don't want to miss it". I get a "now or never" kind of vibe from this spread. It's like they wish they could jump straight away to their goal because right now they feel like they're in a maze and if they keep walking in it they're gonna miss the exit and will never see the end of it. It's like a lion in a cage, running in circles trying to find ways to be free and find their home. I saw the card that was hidden behind the 8 of wands and it was the 9 of pentacles. And it gave me the feeling of someone trying to save money to travel. The 8 of wands calls for quick action and swift communication. It's also an encouragement to move. So if there's a particular goal you have in mind and you feel like you're not making any progress, you are encouraged to make a significant move towards that goal. There's a need to take a risk and get out of one's comfort zone once and for all.

Possible confirmation signs : repeating 8s and 9s, fire and water signs

Group 3

10 of wands, 10 of pentacles, 2 of swords, 2 of pentacles, King of cups, King of pentacles, back of the deck 3 of swords rx

These messages seem to be more career oriented but that doesn't have to be the case necessarily. I pick on the energy of someone feeling burdened with their responsibilities and overworked. Yet, they are sucessful in their career and projects. That doesn't seem to satisfy them. There may be a feeling of boredom or lacking visibility on the future. I also pick up on the energy of someone that is in a period of doubt concerning their life in general, but also concerning two people or two instances. There is an energy of pondering, decision making, reevaluating one's priorities and goals. There's also an underlying fear of being disappointed, hurt, abused. These energies are weighing on the mind and creating an extra pressure. There's a need to take time to process information and analize what is going on. I looked for a clarifier for the 3 of swords rx and got the page of pentacles. Studying, investigating may be the key to an important step on your journey. This page of pentacles could also represent a younger person, possible an earth sign, that could help you on your journey. I am also picking up on reading, research. Organization is also important. Anticipation, task managing, being open to new ideas and unconventional ways of proceeding. All of these elements could be useful resources in your situation. I'm also picking up on the energy of two people that are circling around each other and testing each other. Neither of them are willing to make a step and risk being vulnerable. Both are testing and trying to assess the intentions of the other. If one has a very practical approach to the situation, the other has a very strategical approach. And I feel like this has been going on for a while. This in a way feels similar to the energies of group 1 and 2. So there may be a lot of people that are going through a similar experience of going back and forth with something or someone. There's a need hear to clearly assess one's intentions to be able to decide on the appropriate course of action.

Possible confirmation signs : repeating 2s, 10s and 14s, letters K and P, Scorpio, Taurus, fixed signs

[ardbar]

I think the concept of personal space in parkour civilization is different compared to the regular world.

People here have at least one block distance from eachother and even bigger of other levels. Everyone stays on their own block and don't dare to jump on a block person occupying. Mostly because because you just risk to fall off ot with that person, but if you do happen to share this space with someone intentionally it meens something special.

Sharing an already small space with another person? Risking to fall on to the lower parkour lever or even straight into the abyss? That meens you trust them, know that they won't betray you and push you off the block, that they will be careful to not jump straight on you and not fall into your demise. And this person trusting you to give them enough space, that you will catch them if they tip over the edge.

But the highest form of showing trust and connection here is probably jumping together on one block in sync, especially if you're doing it fast and without much effort. When to people move like a man and their shadow, not hesitating in their jump and being able to change direction without any delay on anyone's part - that takes skill and time. Time that they spend together, skill that they grew together.

It wouldn't be surprising if Parkour God and His Champion would also to do that, considering how devoted they are to eachother and ready to risk everything just to be always by their side

Bro why are you wasting talent like on my inbox; you belong on ao3, stuff like this would do numbers there lol

As I tend to do I am going to analyze this and give my take; I am going to break this down point by point. First when we come to your idea of personal space being different in Parkour Civilization, I think that is a super fascinating idea. In their world one wrong jump at least if you are a pro or a noob spells death, before evbo took over. As you said this would explain people having a different idea of personal space, the more room you have from other people gives you a more controlled environment for making jumps. Also while not a directly violent society it is shown that people don't view death the same way; they will kill you in a parkour battle if they need to or you refuse to surrender. This idea then can very easily be grafted onto people wouldn't have many reservation of pushing you into the void if it means they get to live; kind of like when people are ice skating and they start to fall so they grab the people around them, stabilizing themselves but causing others to fall. All of these points would imply or at least lend credence to personal space being a much bigger deal in their world; however, there is one thing this argument is neglecting there are places in the world without parkour.

In this universe the outside world is a majority parkour, this is of course reflected in other parks of their society with things like transactions being parkour and in the architecture. However on the note of architecture while parkour is incorporated there are still large area's with zero jumps. This raises an interesting issue. While outside people want as much space as possible, so would this also be reflected while inside where jumps aren't as plentiful? Would people let down their barriers if they think they are safe, or does life harden them to never trust the people around them even when they don't pose a threat? Honestly I don't have an answer to this that satisfies me; I don't know enough about behaviors or habits and how they form to give a well informed answer. One would assume that when you are almost always in a situation of life or death a moment of peace wouldn't make you drop you walls, however the people in this world don't act normally.

Evbo for example loves parkour, everyone does, and death is seen as not really something that is important even back when it was permeant. So would these people view this as a life or death situation or just another day? I think a parallel to real life would be driving, by all measures it is very dangerous but a huge number of people do it everyday; every time someone steps behind the wheel of a car their chances of dying that day skyrocket but we don't care. This might also be the way people in their world view doing jumps. Of course its dangerous but its life and they don't know anything different than it. Of couse when we drive we follow rules, more or less. I could see this being the same as traveling with parkour there are rules you follow but once you get to solid ground then you can relax. This is all to say that while personal space is important outside, once inside it becomes more akin to how we view it. I feel like i've bled this point dry so I'll move onto another thing you brought up which was doing parkour simultaneously or on the same block.

Even if doing parkour is just a common task to these people I still think they would see doing it on the same blocks as someone a very personal thing. If I once again make a parallel to the real world and automobiles this might be something similar to riding on a motorcycle. It is a much more dangerous thing to do and requires close contact, if you have any sense you would need to have a huge amount of trust in the person you are doing it with because if either of you screw up it could mean certain death. As a certified Mavbo shipper I of course think this would translate into their relationship. However, I'm going to take it a step further.

I don't think EMF would fear doing any jumps. His best friend, his love, is the god of parkour. He is loved by the very concept, so would he ever be hurt by it? Would he believe that Evbo would never let his domain bring harm to him, even if he makes a mistake does he have complete faith in his god to make it okay? I would think so. I think this is especially true when we consider the type of person Evbo is. He is someone that does dangrous insane things knowing the risks but has faith that he will succeeded. Seeing this same philosophy being practiced by his most devote, I don't think he would let that trust in him, in his idea be misplaced.

While I do have more to say on this topic I have to return to doing work. My books on arbitration law wont read themselves, sadly. I hope this was an adequate response. Also I was being serious earlier assume you are the same person as all of the other askes your writing has a lot of emotion in it and is very compelling. I could def see it doing very well in fanfic spaces, but you do you.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

My last post (about Galadriel and Halbrand having sex in Season 1) stirred some reactions, I think I should address them in an actual post, because I know a lot of fellow fans also have doubts about this.

The Tolkien legendarium (or lore) is massive, and ever expanding, and allows for multiple interpretations within what Tolkien wrote. As one Tolkien expert very well said, there is no "Tolkien canon", there is a legendarium, and some plots might fit that lore even if Tolkien didn’t write them himself (example: Sauron x Galadriel); 

“Rings of Power” is building upon Tolkien lore, so there’s also a show canon. 

I was told Galadriel’s pride (and being a princess of the Noldor) would never allow her to “secretly have sex in dark corners with an incredibly attractive, but unknown man with a dark past”. And I can't forget that High Elves do not behave like ordinary people.

Yeah, I don’t know about that, because back in the 1970’s director John Boorman planned a film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, where Galadriel and Frodo actually had sex. And this script was approved by Tolkien himself. This movie, obviously, was never made, but a copy of the script is in Marquette University’s Tolkien collection.

If Tolkien approved of Galadriel f*cking a Hobbit in the middle of the woods, I don’t see why he would be against the idea of her having sex with a “mortal man” she was in love with at the time, in Eregion. At least, there would be some actual emotion involved here (which is more Eldar-like than just randomly having casual sex). Unless, Tolkien actually wrote Galadriel x Sauron and this draft is being kept a secret all this time, and somehow Sauron possessed Frodo to have sex with Galadriel, and that's why he approved this wild take.

In the “Unfinished Tales”, Tolkien wrote that Galadriel and Celeborn were lovers before they were actually married (which is very un-Eldar like). Well, Celeborn wasn’t a rebel, so they might have shared a few kisses while they were betrothed. Either way, Tolkien has clearly established a precedent here, with Galadriel being different from her kin, when sexuality is concerned.

I was told Galadriel was in love with Halbrand but didn’t want to touch him anymore than “fraternal handshakes”. Because Galadriel is a High Elf, and, so, she doesn’t have sexual desires (they will only appear when she wants children).

I don’t recall Tolkien saying that sexual desire, for Elves, only appears when they want to have children. This take isn’t in the “Eldar customs” chapter, where he talks about Elven sexuality. And we do have Elf characters (mostly male) in Tolkien lore who lust relentlessly after she-elves; Fëanor, Celebrimbor, Curufin, etc.  

Tolkien wrote that Elves enjoy sex (the act), but only do it with the purpose of having children, because they have self-restrain (not because they are immune to sexual desire). He wrote, however, that sexual desire usually dies out after the children are born, because the Elves devote themselves to other occupations.  

On the topic of Galadriel not touching Halbrand other than "fraternal handshakes", I remember her touching other body parts:

And this sneaky bastard doing this:

She was pretty much naked when they first met, so I don’t know about this “shame” or need to play coy.

We also saw Galadriel flirting with Halbrand in Season 1, for... no reason? By definition, flirting is a sexual behavior involving body language, where there’s no need for words most of the time, nor actual touching. Precisely because she's a High Elf, it's not like she would be trying to smack Halbrand's ass and wink.

Interesting enough, here, it’s Galadriel who, unconsciously, reaches out for Halbrand’s hand. 

I was accused of carefully hiding the fact that “sex = marriage” to the Elves on my original post.

I didn't. I actually talked about it twice:

For the Eldar sex = marriage. So much so, that a couple is considered married if they exchange vows to the Valar (Tolkien never specified these vows, only that Manwë is mentioned) and have sex (no feast or celebration required): this usually happens when the couple is in flight, and exile, and wandering.  The eternal bond (= marriage; because divorce is forbidden) between Elves happens during sex; when they have sex for the first time their bodies and souls become one (= “union of souls”), and it’s a more intense physical and spiritual experience than for Men. Elves who have not had that union together have not yet established that incredible bond.

Hence, I'm not sure where I hide this fact, exactly.

I was told that Maiar are higher-beings, meaning they are nobler and purer than those below them in Tolkien hierarchy (Elves, Dwarves, Men). And Maiar don’t reproduce (except for Melian). Sauron doesn’t have sexual desire because he’s a higher being, and he’s evil.  

I already wrote about this crap ("Sauron can't love, he's evil") many times, I’m not going to repeat myself: here, and here. 

Maiar can reproduce, if they chose to. Tolkien wrote an entire essay on it "Ósanwë-kenta”. Melian was able to reproduce because that was her choice, she’s not some “special case” among the Maiar. The majority of them probably wasn’t interest in becoming bound to their physical forms, though.

We also have Gandalf, one of the most powerful Maiar of all and one of the Istari, who indulges in “earthly pleasures” quite often. Mainly smoking weed pipe.  

To bring home the point that Maiar don’t care about sex, because they are higher beings, the Valar were used as an example: "the Valar don't have sex at all, they can only be in love" I'm told.

Yeah, no. Tolkien wrote this about Morgoth, when he saw Lúthien dancing for him (and the original draft was even more sexual, with Lúthien almost naked): 

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought.

Morgoth, who's a Vala, wanted to rape Lúthien in this scene ("evil lust", "a design more dark"). That's what Tolkien wrote. There's no love going on here, Tolkien is just poetic with his writing. Meaning, even the Valar have sexual desires. And Maiar do, too.

Morgoth (the literal Devil and the ultimate evil in Tolkien lore) lusted after both Varda (he probably loved Varda, in the beginning, actually) and Lúthien, but his servant (lower in rank) isn’t capable of the same emotions, I hear.

The fact that these are Gods and demigods has literally nothing to do with it. Anyone who’s familiar with worldwide mythology knows that “Gods and demigods lusting or falling in love with humans, etc.” is “today's special” on the menu. 

This, again, comes from the obnoxious idea that Tolkien was (only) inspired by Christianity to create his lore, and conveniently ignore all of his other inspirations: Old Norse/Greek/Slavic mythology, Germanic legends (Beowulf, mainly), Arthurian Legends, medieval tales, etc. Yes, Tolkien was a catholic, but he wasn’t a catholic priest. His work isn’t a copy-paste from the Bible. 

[sushiyuzu]

Yeloooo

I love your writing! If your requests are open could do a peice about a buff mc?(like vi from arcane if you've seen it). Like they're really good at boxing, and fighting in general, and are also really smart.

But lately they've been feeling insecure about themselves, and they really don't prefer showing the love and deepspace guys their fighting form, and don't really like to show off. However one day, the guys see mc(maybe during their mission), boxing and stuff and find out they've been feeling insecure.

I'm sorry if this is too long, remember to drink water and stay safe!!

“you are enough.”

author’s note: helloooo! thank you so much for your sweet words and request 🥰 this took me more than 6 hours to finish (LMAO😭) but i had a great time writing this, and i hope this is the one that you’re asking for. i deeply apologize if it’s not to your liking :c but i also hope you enjoy every bit of it! remember to take care of yourself, stay hydrated, and keep shining. you’re awesome! 🤍

summary: you secretly train in a gym to prove your strength and overcome hidden insecurities. unexpectedly, each of the four lads guys—sylus, zayne, xavier, and rafayel—catches you in the act, each reacting in their unique way. from sylus's protective concern to zayne's gentle encouragement, xavier’s playful teasing, and rafayel’s bratty yet caring attitude, they all reveal their affection and interest in you, showing that your strength isn’t just in your fists, but in the bond you share with each of them.

warning: fluff + comfort — feelings of insecurity, brief mentions of self-doubt, light teasing, and affectionate moments.

word count: 3.9k+

you sit alone in the small, dimly lit gym, the steady rhythm of your punches echoing off the walls. sweat drips down your face, muscles straining as you focus on the bag in front of you. each hit lands with precision, powerful and controlled. you’ve spent countless hours here, pushing yourself to be better.

better.

stronger.

faster.

no, it’s not just about boxing—it’s about proving something to yourself. you’ve always been good at fighting, your movements strong and your punches sure. but still, that nagging feeling of insecurity tugs at the back of your mind.

you don’t like to show the others this side of you. sure, they know you’re strong and capable, but you keep the boxing part to yourself. there’s something raw and vulnerable about it. maybe it’s because, despite your strength, there are days when you don't feel strong enough. when you look in the mirror and wonder if being good at fighting is enough. or maybe it's the way the guys: sylus, zayne, xavier, and rafayel, always seem so at ease with themselves. they carry themselves with such confidence that sometimes it makes you feel small in comparison.

sigh.

you’ve never talked about it. instead, you train in secret. the gym becomes your sanctuary, a place where you can let go of all those doubts, even if just for a while. the world blurs around you as you throw another punch, then another, the sound of your fists hitting the bag filling the empty space. you’ve got a mission with the team later, but for now, it’s just you and the bag.

what you don’t know is that today, the guys are running late, and each have decided to meet up with you at the gym before the mission.

sylus 𓅪

your breath catches, and you stare at him, stunned by the raw emotion in his voice. “sylus...” you whisper, feeling your walls crumble. “i just didn’t want you to see me weak.”

you’re in the middle of your training when you hear a faint sound—almost like a low growl—coming from the entrance of the gym. startled, you spin around to see sylus standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. his silver hair shines even in the dim light, and his crimson red eyes are fixed on you, intense and unblinking. there’s a strange look in his gaze, like he’s both angry and... something else you can’t quite place.

“so,” he says, his voice calm but laced with a sharp edge, “you’ve been hiding this from me.” he steps forward, each movement slow and deliberate, and you suddenly feel trapped under his stare. “training in secret. fighting. why?”

you swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed. “i—it’s nothing,” you stammer, quickly looking away. “just a way to stay in shape, that’s all.”

sylus’s eyes narrow, and he steps even closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “don’t lie to me,” he says coldly, his tone making your breath hitch. “i know when you’re lying. why did you keep this from me?”

you clench your fists, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. “because it’s... it’s mine,” you say finally, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “it’s something i do for myself. i don’t need to show it off to you or anyone else.”

his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flash of something in his crimson gaze—something almost like hurt. “you think i wouldn’t understand?” he asks softly, his voice almost a whisper. “or did you think i’d look down on you?”

“it’s not that,” you say quickly, feeling a mix of frustration and shame. “i just... i didn’t want you to see me like this. to see me when i don’t feel strong enough.”

his eyes darken, and he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. “you think i only care about strength?” he asks, his tone turning rough, almost angry. “you think i’d judge you because you’re not ‘strong enough’? do you really think so little of me?”

you flinch at the harshness in his voice, feeling tears prick at your eyes. “no, that’s not what i meant,” you say, your voice breaking. “it’s not about you—it’s about me. i don’t feel like i’m enough, okay? not compared to you.”

sylus’s jaw tightens, and he suddenly grabs your wrist, pulling you closer until you’re inches apart. his grip is firm, almost possessive, but there’s a gentleness in the way he holds you that makes your heart ache. “you don’t get to decide what’s enough,” he says fiercely, his crimson eyes burning into yours. “you are more than enough. i don’t care how many punches you throw or how many fights you win. i don’t care if you’re not perfect. you’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

he lets out a low, bitter laugh, his expression softening for the first time. “weak?” he repeats, shaking his head. “you’re the strongest person i know. not because you can fight, but because you don’t give up. because you keep going even when you feel like you can’t. that’s what strength is.”

you don’t know what to say, your throat tight with emotion. sylus reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. “don’t hide from me,” he says softly, almost pleading. “don’t keep things from me. i want to see all of you, even the parts you think are weak. i need to see them.”

you nod slowly, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “okay,” you say quietly. “i won’t hide anymore.”

he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest, and you feel the warmth of his body seep into you. “good,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “because you’re perfect just the way you are.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, and for the first time, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders. with sylus’s arms around you, the doubts and fears seem a little less heavy, and you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to face them alone.

zayne ❆

you don’t hear the door open, so you don’t realize you’re no longer alone in the gym until you hear a quiet sigh behind you. startled, you spin around and freeze when you see zayne standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. his black hair falls slightly into his eyes, and those familiar hazel-green eyes—usually so calm—are watching you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. he’s not smiling, but there’s something different in his gaze, something deeper.

you’ve never seen him look at you like this before.

“you’ve been keeping secrets,” he says, his voice steady and low, but there’s a hint of disappointment hidden beneath his calm tone. “and here i thought we shared everything.”

your throat goes dry, and you quickly look away, feeling your face burn. “i didn’t mean to hide it,” you say softly, your hands dropping to your sides. “i just... didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“like what?” he asks sharply, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer. his expression is still serious, but there’s a touch of concern in his eyes now. “like the strong and determined person you are?”

“no,” you reply, shaking your head. “like someone who isn’t sure they’re strong enough. like someone who’s struggling. you always seem so... confident. i didn’t want you to see the parts of me that aren’t.”

his brow furrows, and he closes the distance between you with a few quick steps, stopping just in front of you. without warning, he reaches out and cups your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “i know you,” he says firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “i’ve known you for a long time, and there’s nothing you could show me that would make me think less of you.”

you want to look away, but his touch is gentle and steady, grounding you in place. “zayne, i—” you start to say, but he cuts you off, his expression softening as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.

“i’ve seen you at your best and your worst,” he murmurs, his tone quieter now, almost tender. “and i’ve never doubted you for a second. not once. so don’t you dare think that your insecurities make you weak.”

your eyes sting, and you blink rapidly, fighting back tears. “but you’re always so sure of yourself,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “i feel like i can’t keep up with you.”

zayne’s eyes soften, and he tilts his head to kiss your forehead. “you don’t have to keep up with me,” he says gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “we’re in this together, remember? you’re not alone. you never were.”

you swallow hard, feeling a mixture of relief and vulnerability wash over you. “i guess... i was afraid you’d see me as less,” you admit, your voice breaking. “that you’d think i’m not enough.”

“never,” he says with a quiet certainty, his thumb still stroking your cheek as if to reassure you. “you are more than enough. you’re strong in ways that go beyond fighting or training. and you have no idea how much i admire you—for everything you are.”

you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his words sink in. zayne’s gaze is so warm, so unwavering, that you can’t help but believe him, even if just a little.

“besides,” he adds with a small, teasing smile, “you should know by now that i’ve always had a thing for strong women.”

you can’t help but laugh softly, even as the tears finally spill over. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and you’re stuck with me,” he replies, his smile widening as he leans down to kiss you—soft and lingering. when he pulls back, he presses his forehead to yours again, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t hide from me again. i want to see all of you. the strong, the uncertain, the silly... every part.”

you nod slowly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that chases away the doubts that had been weighing you down. “okay,” you whisper, your voice steadier now. “i won’t hide anymore.”

“good,” zayne says softly, pulling you into his arms and holding you tightly, his chin resting on top of your head. “because i love every part of you, and i’m not going anywhere.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. with zayne holding you close, the lingering fears and insecurities don’t feel quite as overwhelming, and for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax—safe in the knowledge that you don’t have to face them alone.

xavier ⟡

your punches are sharp and focused as you go through your routine, lost in the steady rhythm of training. sweat drips down your face, and you barely notice the ache in your arms as you continue to hit the bag, each strike coming harder and faster. you’re so focused that you don’t even hear xavier enter the gym until he clears his throat softly.

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. slowly, you turn around, your eyes meeting his gentle blue ones. xavier stands by the door, his grey-brown hair slightly messy, looking like he’s just woken up. he blinks a few times, almost as if he’s trying to wake himself up fully. “oh,” he says quietly, tilting his head to the side, a small, confused smile playing on his lips. “you’re here... i didn’t know you’d be here.”

you feel your heart sink. out of all people, xavier is the one who sees you the most clearly, even when you try to hide. his smile, his easy way of teasing you—he’s always so gentle, so kind. and now he’s seeing you at your most vulnerable.

“yeah, i’m here,” you say, your voice barely steady as you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. you force a smile, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but you know you’re failing. “i just wanted to get some training in before the mission.”

xavier’s eyes narrow slightly, and he steps closer, his movements slow and calm. there’s a familiar softness in his gaze, the kind he only shows when it’s just the two of you. “you didn’t tell me you box,” he says, his voice light and curious. “i thought we didn’t keep secrets.”

you wince, turning back to the bag and avoiding his gaze. “it’s not a secret,” you mumble, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. “i just... i didn’t think it mattered.”

xavier is quiet for a moment, and then you feel his hand on your shoulder, warm and steady. “it matters to me,” he says softly. his voice is so calm, so understanding, that it makes your chest tighten. “you matter to me.”

your throat goes dry, and you have to fight back the sudden urge to cry. “i’m sorry,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “i just... i don’t feel like i’m good enough. not for you. not for anybody. you all seem so... sure of yourselves. and i’m... not.”

xavier’s expression softens, and he steps in front of you, gently taking both of your hands in his. his fingers are cool and gentle against your skin, and he squeezes your hands lightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “that’s not true,” he says, his tone firm but kind. “you are enough. more than enough. and you don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.”

you shake your head, the words you’ve been holding back for so long finally spilling out. “but i feel so... small sometimes,” you admit, your voice breaking. “like i can’t keep up. like i don’t belong with you and other people.”

xavier’s expression shifts, and for a moment, his usual calmness is replaced by something deeper—something almost fierce. “you belong with us,” he says, his voice firm, almost stern. “with me. you don’t have to be perfect or strong all the time. i like you just as you are. even when you’re unsure. even when you’re afraid.”

you feel a tear slip down your cheek, and xavier’s eyes soften as he reaches up to gently wipe it away with his thumb. “and if you ever need to feel strong,” he adds with a teasing smile, “you can always beat me up in the gym. though i doubt you’d ever get the chance, since i’m clearly superior.”

you laugh, the sound shaky and a bit broken, but it’s real. “you wish,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “i’d take you down in seconds.”

xavier’s eyes light up with amusement, and he leans in closer, his nose nearly brushing yours. “is that a challenge?” he asks, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “because you know i don’t back down from challenges... or naps.”

you can’t help but laugh again, the tension in your chest loosening as you feel his warmth, his quiet affection, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. “maybe it is,” you reply, smiling up at him, feeling lighter than you have in days.

he smiles back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “good,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “because i’d like to see you win. you deserve to win, in everything.”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle into your heart, making it hard to breathe. “xavier,” you start to say, but he just shakes his head, pulling you into a gentle hug, his arms warm and secure around you.

“no more hiding,” he says quietly, his voice soft in your ear. “if you ever feel unsure or lost, you come to me, okay? we’ll figure it out together. you’re not alone. not now, not ever.”

you nod against his chest, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax into his embrace. “okay,” you whisper, your voice steadier now. “i promise.”

“good,” xavier says, his tone lightening as he pulls back slightly to look at you. his smile is gentle, almost boyish, and he reaches up to ruffle your hair, making you huff in protest. “now, let’s get out of here before i fall asleep standing up. we’ve got a mission to handle, and i can’t do it alone.”

you nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you smile back at him. “you and your naps,” you tease softly, and he chuckles, his eyes bright with amusement as he tugs you towards the door, his hand warm and steady in yours.

together, you leave the gym behind, the doubts and fears fading with every step. with xavier by your side, you know you don’t have to face them alone—not anymore.

rafayel 𓆟

your fists slam into the punching bag with a steady rhythm, each hit releasing some of the frustration you've been holding inside. you’re so focused that you don’t hear the door creak open behind you, but you definitely hear the familiar, amused voice that follows.

“wow, didn’t know you had that much fight in you,” rafayel’s teasing voice echoes through the gym, and you freeze mid-punch, turning around quickly.

he’s leaning casually against the doorframe, a smug grin on his lips, his bluish-pink eyes sparkling with mischief. his dusky purple hair falls perfectly into place, parted in the middle, and he looks as carefree as ever. the moment your eyes meet, he raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his gaze.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you that keeping secrets is bad?” he says, his tone mocking, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he steps closer, his hands stuffed lazily into his pockets.

you scowl, turning back to the punching bag and throwing another punch, harder this time. “what do you want, rafayel?” you mutter, trying to ignore the way your heart speeds up. “i’m busy.”

he clicks his tongue in a playful scold. “oh, come on. don’t be like that,” he says, strolling up to you with a cat-like grace. he stops just a few steps away, tilting his head as he watches you with an almost childlike interest. “i’m just curious. i had no idea you were secretly training to be a tough boxer.”

you glare at him over your shoulder, trying to act annoyed, but he just laughs, a sound that’s both light and irritating. “what, are you scared i’ll beat you up?” you snap, throwing another punch, feeling the burn in your muscles. you don’t want him to see how much his presence unsettles you.

“me? scared?” he chuckles, brushing a hand through his hair in a dramatic gesture. “please, i could take you down without even trying.”

you roll your eyes. “then why are you here?” you challenge, pausing to catch your breath. “shouldn’t you be somewhere else, being annoying?”

he smirks, stepping even closer until he’s almost within arm’s reach. “maybe i just like watching you struggle,” he says, his tone playful but his eyes a little too sharp. “or maybe,” he adds, his voice dropping to a whisper, “i wanted to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard... like you always do.”

your breath catches, and you can feel your face heat up. you look away, pretending to adjust the tape on your hands. “i’m fine,” you mutter stubbornly, but you can’t hide the waver in your voice. “i don’t need you to worry about me.”

rafayel’s smile softens, just a little, and he takes another step forward. you don’t move back, even when he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence. “who said i was worried?” he asks, his tone light and teasing again. “i just don’t want you to mess up before the mission. wouldn’t want to carry you if you got too tired, after all.”

you roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. “i can handle myself,” you say, trying to sound confident, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like that, with those sharp, knowing eyes.

“sure you can,” he says with a grin, reaching out to flick your forehead lightly with his finger. you swat his hand away, and he laughs, that carefree sound that always manages to get under your skin in the most annoying way. “but if you wanted to impress me, you could’ve just asked.”

you huff in frustration, turning away from him again. “i’m not trying to impress you!” you insist, but you know he can hear the lie in your voice. he always does.

“right, right,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. he circles around to stand in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. his expression shifts, just for a moment, and there’s something softer there—something almost serious. “just... don’t overdo it, okay?” he says quietly, his voice lower now. “i don’t want to see you get hurt.”

you blink in surprise, the sudden change in his tone catching you off guard. before you can respond, his teasing smirk is back, and he’s stepping away, waving a hand like he’s dismissing the whole conversation. “anyway, if you need some real training tips, you know where to find me,” he says with a wink, turning on his heel and heading for the door. “try not to get too bruised up before then.”

you watch him go, feeling a strange mix of frustration and warmth settle in your chest. you know he’s just teasing, like he always does, but there was something real in his words—something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

as he reaches the door, he pauses, glancing back at you with a lazy grin. “and don’t get any weird ideas,” he says, pointing a finger at you like he’s scolding a child. “i’m only looking out for you because you’d be useless to me if you got injured.”

you can’t help but smile, shaking your head. “whatever you say, rafayel.”

he gives you a final, bratty smile before disappearing out the door, leaving you alone in the gym once more. but somehow, the space feels a little less empty, a little warmer, and you can’t stop the small, amused smile that lingers on your lips as you turn back to the punching bag.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter, and throw another punch—this time, with more confidence than before.

remember: embrace your strengths and be proud of who you are. even when you feel insecure, remember that those who truly care about you will accept and admire every part of you. you are more than enough — always & forever.

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 25 - borrowed clothes

soap x f!reader | 880 words cw: and they were roommates, references to masturbation, pervy thoughts a/n: if you lived with soap, he would never wear a shirt. and i stand by that. summary: johnny borrows a shirt. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

You can’t decide if the universe is cold and uncaring, or extremely bored and too interested in torturing you specifically. Regardless, every day, it fucking tests you.

No. That’s unfair to the neverending, bleak void of space. 

John MacTavish tests you. Every. Day.

Well, he tests you on the days he’s at home in your shared flat. Sure, his direct deposit never fails, and you enjoy peace and quiet when he’s gone, but the man’s insufferable when present.

Cabinet and cupboard doors? Open. Dishware? Half of it’s missing. The couch? He hogs it. He spreads those thick legs, wears tight joggers, and puts those muscular thighs on display. An arm slung over the back. He barely moves when you join him, and there is always some part of him touching you.

It’s sick and twisted that he’s infuriatingly handsome and seemingly clueless about it. It’s devastating that picturing him crawling on top of you is the only way you’re able to get off anymore. Door locked, music on, vibrator on a too-low but quieter setting—eyes shut and ears open, listening to him meander around your flat while you imagine him bursting through the door to dramatically take you. God, you come so hard, hand glued to your mouth.

It doesn't help that he’s perpetually shirtless.

He’s constantly on the move and complaining that he’s warm. It’s hard to not stare when he enters a room. His broad shoulders stretch out wide, muscles firm and thick beneath his skin. Dark hair covers his chest and dusts his arms, always shiny after his morning runs and near-daily push-ups. Rugged and imposing, the kind of body that just makes you want to climb. You want to smash his face between your thighs, yank him by the mohawk, and sit on those stupid, hot shoulders. Drown him until he cries uncle.

But today, you can’t stand it anymore. He's elbow-to-elbow with you, tidying the kitchen, still damp and glistening from the shower and clad only in a pair of sweats.

“Johnny?”

“Mm?”

“Do you…mind,” you stare out of your periphery at the size of his hand compared to the sponge he’s holding. “Putting on a shirt?”

He stops. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

The sponge drops onto the counter, and he leans into your personal bubble. “Ye sayin’ a man cannae be comfortable in his own home?”

You grit your teeth and focus so as not to let your gaze drop to the pec right next to you. The scent of soap wafts off of him. You want to lick—

“Well?” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be subjected to a half-naked man every moment of my day.”

A second passes in silence. Then another. The corner of his lip curls, and he raps his knuckles on the counter, chuckling. “You’re a tricky one, hen, but I s’pose I can oblige ye. I dinnae ken if I have anythin’ clean, but…”

“Not my problem.” You hiss through a clenched jaw and return to furiously scrubbing the oven.

He’s gone for a few minutes. Long enough that you clean a section well enough to stare at the vague blob of your embarrassed face. Maybe you ought to put yourself out of your mystery and start looking for a new flatshare. 

This time, when he returns, you keep your eyes forward.

Until he clears his throat. “Like I said, nothin’ of mine’s clean, so I had to make do…”

With an exasperated sigh, you glance over to see what he’s on about and freeze. A glob of cleaner slops onto the ground from where it leaks out of the oven. Yeah, me too, you think distantly.

John’s gone and taken one of your shirts from your things. He went into your room, probably rifled through your wardrobe, and stole a shirt. And not just any shirt, but a ratty, shrunken shirt you’d bought as a joke on a girl’s trip years ago. You hadn’t ditched it for purely sentimental reasons, and now, his nipples stand at attention underneath the worn, whisper-thin fabric. His arms strain the babydoll sleeves. It cuts off above his navel. The top tufts of his happy trail stick out.

The words ‘Female Body Inspector’ stretch across his chest.

Maybe you died, and this is your hell. Or heaven. Hard to tell.

Your mouth dries. “Where–Did you get that from my room?”

“Hope it’s alright. Picked somethin’ I didnae think ye’d miss.”

Rising to your feet, you strip the long rubber gloves off your hands and toss them in the sink. You swallow and run your tongue across your teeth. You slowly close the distance, staring dumbly at the man in front of you. Fuck. Were you really doing this? An old silly shirt’s the catalyst?

He grins, his voice deceptively soft. “You’ve gone quiet again. See somethin’ ye like?”

“Johnny, if you’re amenable to it, I’m going to ride you to the River Styx and back.”

His brows shoot up. His eyes gain a wild glint. “Oh?”

Some responsible part of your brain implores you to see reason and remember how sleeping with your housemates is generally a bad idea. It shuts up when you see him twitch in his sweatpants.

“Mhm. My room in two minutes. Leave the shirt on.”

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 5

SUMMARY: A casual day on set takes an unexpected turn when Glen brings his parents to the hair and makeup trailer. As you bond with them over shared interests and playful conversation, Glen watches with a fond smile, clearly pleased with how well you're getting along. Later, when Glen invites you to join them for lunch, the conversation flows easily, but Glen can’t escape a few embarrassing childhood stories his parents share.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4

WARNINGS: None. Just Fluff in this one!

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You step into the hair and makeup trailer, the familiar scent of hairspray and cosmetic products already filling the air. It’s early, but the trailer is quiet, the rest of the team having not arrived yet for the day. You move about the space, setting out your tools and products in preparation for Glen’s arrival. He’s due any minute, and though it’s become routine by now, there’s always a flutter of anticipation when you know he’s on his way. 

You glance in the mirror, making sure everything is in place, when you hear the door open behind you. But as you turn, ready to greet Glen, you notice he’s not alone. His warm smile spreads as he steps inside, flanked by two familiar faces—his parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., visiting him on set.

"Hey, hope you don’t mind," Glen says with a grin, motioning toward them. "Thought I’d bring some backup today."

“Not at all,” you smile as you look past him to see where his parents are. Their presence catches you slightly off guard, though not necessarily in a bad way.

He introduces you with a smile. "Mom, Dad, this is the makeup artist I’ve been telling you about," Glen says, gesturing to you.

His mom, Cyndy, smiles warmly as she steps forward. "It’s so nice to finally meet you. Glen has mentioned how great you are."

You exchange greetings, shaking her hand. Glen Sr. gives you a polite nod and a friendly, "Nice to meet you," before sitting on the nearby couch.

As you start prepping Glen's hair, Cyndy sits down nearby and strikes up a conversation. "So, how do you keep up with all these actors? I imagine you’re running around all day trying to keep them camera-ready," she says, laughing lightly.

You smile, nodding as you work through Glen's hair. "Yeah, it can get a little crazy, especially when the weather isn’t cooperating. But, I’ve been doing this long enough that I can manage a few stubborn heads of hair."

Cyndy chuckles and nods. "You sound just like me trying to wrangle Glen’s hair when he was younger. He had the curliest hair when he was younger. Honestly, his curls were a challenge. I learned so much about products just trying to keep it from looking like a bird’s nest!"

You can’t help but laugh, glancing at Glen through the mirror as you apply a little styling cream to his hair. 

"I can imagine. He does have a head of hair that keeps me busy," you say, playfully teasing.

Glen raises an eyebrow in mock offense. "Hey, I thought we were on the same team here," he says with a grin.

His mom rolls her eyes affectionately, clearly used to this kind of banter. "He’s always been fussy about his hair," she says, leaning closer to you. "You know, he used to let his sisters test makeup and skincare products on him.”

Glen Sr., who has been quietly observing, throws in a comment. "Yeah, Glen's always been particular about how he looks—don’t let him fool you. I’ve never seen anyone take so long to get ready for prom. He was taking this really cute girl he liked and he must have fixed his hair twenty times before she showed up."

Glen groans in mock embarrassment while you laugh with Cyndy and Glen Sr. It’s so easy and natural, and you start to feel completely at ease around his parents. The friendly dynamic between them makes it feel as though you’ve known them much longer than a few minutes. As you finish up Glen’s hair and makeup, you catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, watching the exchange with a soft smile.

"Alright, I think you’re good to go," you say, stepping back to inspect your work.

Glen stands and turns to his mom. "What do you think?" he asks, gesturing to his styled hair.

Cyndy nods approvingly. "I think you’re in good hands."

He meets your eyes for a moment, and there’s something unspoken but meaningful in the look he gives you. 

"I think so too," he says softly.

As Glen and his parents make their way out, Cyndy pauses by the door, turning back to you. "It was really nice talking to you. Hopefully, we’ll see you again before we leave."

You smile, feeling something like a mix of warmth and nervousness swirl in your chest. "It was great meeting you both."

As they head out and the door closes behind them, you feel the weight of what just happened start to sink in. Glen’s parents. Not just a casual meeting—but a glimpse into the world of someone who’s beginning to feel a lot more significant to you.

A few hours pass, and you move through the rest of the morning on set with a steady pace, trying not to think too much about your earlier interaction with Glen and his parents. 

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re back in the trailer, scrolling through the DoorDash app, absentmindedly debating between a sandwich or sushi when your phone buzzes with a text.

Glen: "Hey, do you want to join me and my parents for lunch? We’re heading to this restaurant a few minutes away."

You stare at the message for a moment, feeling a slight flutter in your stomach. Lunch with Glen and his parents? It seems casual enough, but something about the invitation feels… different. After a brief pause, you type back a reply.

You: "Sure, sounds fun. Where should I meet you?"

A few minutes later, you're on your way to the restaurant, mentally preparing yourself to be around Glen’s parents again. 

When you walk into the restaurant, you’re met with warm smiles from both Cyndy and Glen Sr. as you approach the table. Glen stands and gives you a small, friendly hug before he pulls out a chair for you, the gesture making you feel even more welcome.

The restaurant itself is laid-back, the kind of place that feels homey and easy, with rustic wood tables and simple decor. As you sit down, the conversation picks up naturally. Glen’s parents are charming, easy to talk to, and it quickly feels less like a formal lunch and more like spending time with friends you’ve known for years.

The conversation is peppered with casual jokes and stories, and soon enough, Glen becomes the focus of a few playful teases.

"So," his dad starts with a knowing grin, "did Glen ever tell you about the time he got stuck trying to climb out of his bedroom window?"

You turn to Glen, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but he groans, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Dad. Please don't," he says, though you can tell he’s being a good sport about it.

His mom, clearly delighted, jumps in. "He thought it’d be a good idea to sneak out to see a girl when he was sixteen. Climbed out the window but got his foot caught in the gutter. I’ve never heard someone yell 'Mom!' so loud in my life!"

You can’t help but burst into laughter, and Glen, though slightly embarrassed, can’t help but laugh along with everyone else. 

"I was young and stupid," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but there’s a good-natured smile on his face.

Throughout the lunch, you notice little things—how Glen keeps glancing your way when his parents speak to you, as if trying to gauge how you're feeling, or how his hand brushes yours briefly as he passes you the salt. The atmosphere is light and comfortable, yet there's something deeper simmering beneath the surface. It’s the way Glen is with you—always aware of your presence, always making sure you're included.

At one point, his mom turns the conversation toward you. "So, how are you liking it on set? It must be exciting, working on a film like this."

You smile, taking a sip of your water before responding. "It’s been a lot of fun. There’s definitely a lot of running around, but the whole cast and crew have been really great. It doesn’t really feel like work most days."

"I’m glad to hear that," Cyndy says warmly, then leans in slightly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Glen’s been talking about you a lot, you know. Telling us all about how talented you are."

You glance at Glen, who immediately groans and rubs a hand over his face. "Mom, seriously?" he mutters, clearly embarrassed.

But you find it kind of adorable, the idea that Glen has been talking about you to his parents. You meet his eyes, and there’s a shared moment of understanding—something unspoken yet clear in the way his gaze softens when he looks at you.

You smile, giving Cyndy a grateful look. "Well, I’m flattered."

As lunch wraps up and the four of you head back to set, the dynamic between you and Glen seems to have subtly shifted. There’s more ease, more awareness of each other. Glen walks beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both chat quietly about the upcoming scenes for the day.

While Glen’s parents walk ahead, you catch him glancing over at you a few times, something tender in his expression, as if he’s just starting to realize something. Maybe it’s the way you got along so well with his mom, or how effortlessly you fit into this part of his life that he usually keeps separate from work. Whatever it is, the thought lingers in his mind, settling deep as he realizes that this—whatever it is between you two—is becoming more important to him.

The conversation between you and Glen is light, but the feeling of something growing between you is undeniable. And as you part ways to get back to work, there’s a weight to the goodbye—a lingering thought that perhaps this connection is becoming more than just casual, more than just friendly. Glen’s smile lingers a little longer, his gaze a little softer, as he watches you walk away.

[realchemistry]

"Masks" - A few things about tonight's episode and what's ahead

~9-1-1 spoilers ahead~

Let me get this out of the way first: Eddie sucking on that ring pop... I never understood the "don't ask me the color of anything" and "babygirl" concepts more than I did then. Also: both Buck and Eddie having the same Christmas picture of them with Chris and abuela? I'm fine. The ending montage with Eddie being alone looking at his pic from Halloween with Chris... no, I'm really, I'm okay.

The BuckandEddie of it all:

It's interesting that they kept pairing Eddie up with other members of the team during calls but Eddie was all over Buck still. Like... they are partners, and they continue to be like at the pumpkin call (LUBE? PLEASE, I AM BEGGING), but Eddie was with Buck at the hospital (both for Buck and Denny) and at Buck's loft and at the station too.

Buck and Eddie are always entangled in each other's business but this season's been like a whole other level. The framing, the dialogue, everything about them is pointed as fuck and it's no coincidence (the lube, I can't get over it!!!), of that I'm sure.

This episode, which had a lot of Buck and T, had a ton of Eddie in between them which allowed us to see their dynamic and it was a sight. We had Eddie in the hospital room, by Buck's bedside, asking the doctor questions, while T is on the other side of the door, observing. Eddie was there to tend to Buck's boils and reassure him it'd be fine and even bet and shake on it to try and keep Buck from spiraling while T was just... there. Eddie was apparently distracted on his phone, sucking on a freaking ring lollipop (looking at Buck like that!!!!!) but he was actually well in tune with Buck and what he was doing and Buck protested his boyfriend's claims that he had been picking on his boils but he didn't argue with Eddie about it at all.

So yeah, Buck has a boyfriend that could fit right in, being a firefighter and getting more into the 118's business and sharing time with Buck and his BFF in the whole wide world. This episode showed in part how T didn't fit exactly right (why were they not sleeping on the bed, I'm so confused...), how Buck realized that and sent him a message that he wanted him to. And I think they will make it past the next episode, actually, because I have a feeling that if tptb are going where we all think/want them to go with Eddie, they might want to establish that on its own.

And they would also want to do what Oliver said and take it slow on the Buddie front, and I know it's been slow enough, but Oliver and Ryan have alluded to wanting the story to develop naturally and to not have them be bi/gay and into each other because of the message that could send. I have a feeling that means reaching Buddie after both have time to go through self-realizations away from each other and having Buck be in a relationship actually serves that scenario better. At least for a little while, then they can let the pining begin.

Some other things:

The thing about this show that I both adore and dislike is that I know every main is gonna be okay (there was only ever one exception to this) and they're not going to kill one of their children either. So I simply couldn't get into the mindset of feeling sad over Denny dying because I knew he wasn't going to.

I love that we got more HenRen and I wish next time Karen and Eddie share a scene, it'll be a less tragic one. I love Denny so much, the actor is so good and such a cutie, I'm glad he got to shine. It's also funny that once you get old enough in the show, you're fair game to be in harm's way. Rite of passage.

Chim was so scary and cute and great as well. I just think Kenny's so good at everything and the show sometimes failed to properly take advantage of his skills so I'm glad they're finally getting to showcase his range fully and all at once.

Peter was also having the time of his life being a carefree version of Bobby, and I'm here for it.

Josh's whole costume being Eddie's mustache. Plus Buck also having one. Ryan, the man that you are.

Maddie, once again, going for the kitty ears.

The teacher... I know her pain.

About the next episode ~more spoilers~:

They really are having an "Eddie Begins" type of emergency on an episode called "Confessions" which will focus on Eddie. I'm sure it's gonna be just fine. I'm sure nothing major will happen with my favorite character in the world, Eddie Díaz. I'm sure.

[maxwell-grant]

One thing I found interesting about Sofia's conversation with Sal is how she frames Oz telling her father about Sofia meeting with a reporter. It doesn't justify Oz's later actions, nor does it negate Sofia's grievances and anger, but it does interest me that for all her talk of helping the underclass of the Falcone Family she doesn't seem capable of processing the danger she put Oz in by having him take her to that meeting. Or, perhaps more accurately, she doesn't seem capable of processing that a driver would consider his life as valuable.

Even if she is partially manipulating Sal there, yeah. As I said in my Episode4 breakdown, even if it's not as prominent in the writer breakdowns of that moment, Oz was right to be scared shitless of what would have happened to him if Sofia kept digging around, or if anyone told Carmine that he was the one who drove her there to meet the reporter, even just Carmine finding out Sofia did something to displease him could have been enough to get Oz killed as punishment. If Carmine was willing to do what he did to his daughter, the future of the family, there was zero chance Oz wouldn't have been on the chopping block if literally anyone but Oz brought this to his attention. It's not like he didn't try to reach out to Sofia first and tell her how dangerous this was, and look at how that turned out for him.

Sofia even brings up on Episode 01 at their lunch, "If you hadn't gone to my father - He left you no choice". Now, obviously she does actually resent Oz for it, as she should, but she nominally does understand that Oz didn't do it solely because he wanted to rise up the ranks (even if that was undeniably part of it) and that there was self-preservation involved. But it doesn't matter that Oz wanted to save or improve his life, because Oz's life doesn't matter, certainly not to the extent that Sofia's reliance on him mattered.

Oz and Sofia care about the underprivileged and the downtrodden, and they genuinely care about those whose circumstances they share, but only so far, and mostly in service to their operations and to their self-mythologizing fueling them in their journeys, and the show never loses track of the ways Sofia's privilege affect her thinking - note that Sofia, for all that she talks about victims being neglected and forgotten, and for all that she does mean it, does not seem to extend that compassion to the Arkham patients - they were "monsters" she had to fight to get out of the dungeon her father put her in (Magpie simply being Arkham Oz, the annoying fake friend conspiring against her to the big bad in charge - if I had a nickel everytime a bird-themed Batman villain sold me out and so on).

I can't think of a Batman thing that is so thoroughly committed to class dynamics on a foundational level as this (and the movie also), and really any Penguin show would feel incomplete without it. And honestly, the end of Episode 3 even shows that, for all the awful things Sofia endured because Oz tattled on her, for all the resentment she holds towards him, for how much her body screams at her not to trust him, she was still sincerely willing to hear out his excuses and bury the hatchet and give him another chance - and of course it turns out that he actually did something infinitely worse and had been lying to her about it the entire time, which is par for the course with Oz. Every time he slips away from an impossible jam, he lands face first into another one.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

hello-ellow!

due to your interest in alchemy, do you have theory why Peter used what he used to resurrect Voldemort? ok with Harry blood, but other, what it have to mean? what substance was in cauldron before Peter pull Voldemort in?

Hello!

Okay, so I actually have, like, a bit of a headcanon about the potion and why Voldy is snake-faced post-resurrection since I don't believe the Horcruxes caused his body to look like that, but that it was because Peter messed up the potion.

As I mentioned in the past, in Alchemy, everything is alive and comprised of 3 parts:

Salt - Body

Mercury - Spirit

Sulfur - Soul

So, the soul already exists — we have a wraith Voldy who is already a complete soul.

And we have a rudimentary body that holds this soul, which is also an ingredient of this potion. I believe it gives, like, the basic instructions of how the body should be made ie two arms, two legs, and a head. It's a body component that is the template the potion builds upon.

Then we have "bone of the father". This is another salt component. I think this is there for the genetics portion. It's the closest body part to a blood relative of Voldemort, so it's there to represent what his body was before his death. An image of the past.

"Flesh of the servant" is an odd one because Wormtail just drops his entire hand in, which, really, he shouldn't have to, because the ritual stipulates "flesh", and I think that's purposeful. Bones are templates, building blocks, flesh is what covers it. It symbolizes life in a way, which is why I think it's both a salt component and a mercury component. Again, the entire hand is dropped in, blood, bones, and flesh, all different ingredients that Wormtail chucked into the potion together but that should symbolize life and devotion in general. (It's Likley a finger might've been enough but Voldemort told Wormtail to chuck his whole hand in to mess with him. I think Voldy would do something like that)

Harry's blood is a spirit component as blood represents life and it's also imbued with Lily's sacrifice magic which Voldemort wants to circumvent (which is life-related magic). But Harry's blood is a soul component as well because of the Horcrux, Voldy doesn't know that though. This might affect the potion negatively as it might set it out of balance.

We also know the potion included Nagini's venum and I think this is where Wormtail messed up.

Medieval alchemists believed the mindset you have while making a potion, or doing any alchemical process affects the results. This is why it was of utmost importance to keep anyone other than yourself out of the lab so they don't mess it up by just thinking the wrong things. Especially if the procedure is a more complex one. This is that intent aspect I always mention magic having. How your thoughts and feelings affect the magic you produce.

So, the reason I headcanon for why Voldy is snake-faced post-resurrection is because Wormtail added Nagini's venom as a body component when he should've added it as a soul component due to her being a Horcrux. Her venom was supposed to strengthen the bond between the new body and Voldemort's soul, and I believe it still did that. I just also think Wormtail thought her venom was there to help create the body, and he mixed it into the potion under this wrong impression and it butched how the body looks as a result.

At least, that's my headcanon on why he looks like a snake and not like a creepy DILF.

As for other ingredients that were in the potion, I think it shares some of its ingredients with the Phlagaton Potion I theorize is part of the Horcrux-making process.

There would probably be healing ingredients such as Dittany, dragon liver, valerian root, and mint.

And there would be ingredients corresponding to resurrection and rebirth. If you can get Pheonix ashes, all the better, but if not ingredients such as Saffron spice, Hyacinth flowers, or Golden crocus flowers could also work assuming you burn them into a fine dry powder that is almost white in color.

As the ritual we witness in the graveyard covers the components needed for the actual body creation, there probably aren't many ingredients already in the potion related to that.

[strobbylemonade]

canto 7 pt 3 spoilers and thoughts and stuff

i really didn't expect her to be like.. locked up. by herself. its so sad. i feel so bad for her in the lighthouse. also the I WANT YOU poster cracked me up.

vergilius calling her "my lady" was cute. i thought we were going to get more of their friendship this canto but apparently not. maybe later :( but also what's up with his eyes?? who's his old friend??? WHO did he take the eyes from?? it's not don quixote because he still has his eyes, so it's either the bloodfiend moses spoke with, or it's the progenitor?? or there's more first-gen blood fiends we don't know about.

adding more guesses to the dante's identity flame:

dante is bari/the bookhunter

dante is vergilius' "old friend"

dante is the bloodfiend vergilius got his eyes from

dante is verigilius' old friend who IS the bloodfiend vergilius got his eyes from

dante is dante and their old self is destroyed

dante is an extremely powerful unknown character who gets their memories back but after their canto they pull a don quixote and chooses to live the rest of their lives as the dante we know

sanchos expressions were really really awesome. she's just so... augh....

THESE GUYS REALLY PISSED ME OFF.

i'm not smart enough to understand the implications of this. but ??? sinclair standing up for donqui?? yaaaayy!!!! the sign??? and also him paralleling bari is definitely not a coincidence. i wonder what the mark of cain has to do with it all.

i didn't notice while i was playing but sinclair starts blushing when he asks her to open up. they're so cute. and they're trying their hardest to be vulnerable to their fucked up lil family. i love them.

WE GOT OUTIS LORE!!! LET'S GO!!! this was surprisingly vulnerable of her... and dante's response of "I will. As long as they have the will to change, to move forward, I will be there for them." was great. also girl what do you mean TENS OF THOUSANDS??? i'm starting to think outis has a lot more guilt for the smoke war than she lets on.

uhh and speaking of change that's another theme that's popping up more interestingly enough. yi sang, sinclair, and being "unable to change" is what caused heathcliff to distort. interesting narrative theme. (starts side eyeing dante and outis).

bari is cool as shit

the cutscene that follows this where they're all talking about how much fun they had with donqui through the stageplay was genuinely both so cheesy and sweet i almost cried.

oughhh i'm not bothered to grab screenshots from every part i enjoyed of the final point so we're doing dot points again!

sancho's backstory of being born alone and wishing to die before don quixote gave her love and life was... holy shit. "That is why you saved my life from the periphery of death... tried to share your love... and made my heart beat again."

again with the themes of suicide. the original don quixote sees sancho as special because she doesn't want to inflict suffering on others and instead simply wishes to "burn myself to ashes like I was never here". and that's how she gets her first family. because she suffered alone. and then don quixote makes his children suffer alone in la manchaland.

"I don't know who I am" lyric in Hero hits really song. YEAH I FORGOT TO MENTION MILI PEAK!!! it really feels like some of their older music, especially something from mahoyaku (the Big Moon in the background during the final phase certainly helped). the second part sounds especially like Cast Me a Spell. or something from miracle milk with the way the instrumentals and sfx sound. i really like it.

DON QUIXOTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WAAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAA

"She was incandescent, like a brilliant star twinkling in the night sky. / That very brilliance compelled me to reach out and hope." OUGHHH. dante's role in this chapter has been really interesting... they're like her, they're chained to their past but are also playing the role of someone who they don't know who they're meant to be. they have a really passive role in bringing sancho back to the Gang, with the other sinners stepping in to help her moreso than dante themselves, and then at the end, it's sancho who saves them, acts as their star, and gives them their dreams back (of having all the sinners together as one big happy family).

and just. holy shit. this entire sequence.

I DID NOT EXPECT A QUICKTIME EVENT!! big cast a spell vibes... i genuinely gasped when the fireworks went off..

LMAO SHE'S MAKING FUN OF HIM FOR THE ROCINANTE THING. also kyaa hong lu's teaching dante how to smile!!! i'm sure this won't have any terrifying implications next canto!!! definitely!! there's some interesting parallels to what donqui said about dante having an "expression" and what demian said about being able to hear them all the way back in canto iii, because donqui/demian listen to their "heart" and not their actual face/voice. interesting

also new dante sprite please???? please??? new dante pose perhaps even??? please????

interesting we're getting the clock ticking closer to doomsday after canto 7 and not 8. with the trajectory they're on, doomsday will happen during or after outis' canto (and before faust's). fun. can't wait for the random lore drop next intervallo/event where they take turns feeding don quixote their blood. please. please. please???

mili peak. pass on peak. feelings peak. augh. i love my idiot family and their pet Cosmic Horror Entity. although i would argue it's a family of 15 and not 12!!! i love found family!!!!

[walkingstackofbooks]

AITA for being "too dedicated" to my job?

Unfortunately I can't give too many details, my work is pretty strict on privacy, but let's say I (48 m) work as for this security company. I'm in charge of recruiting and vetting new candidates - as you can imagine, this is a pretty rigorous process, and there is no room for mistakes. I wish I could say how bad the consequences would be if we hired someone with bad intentions, but that might pinpoint what I do too accurately.

So there's a doctor (m 33) who works for one of our sister companies - obviously there's a lot of information that needs protecting in the medical field - and we've had our eye on him for a while. About a year ago, it turned out he'd been lying about his background to cover up some illegal activities he'd done in the past - strike one. Then, a few months later, he was involved in a conspiracy to release strictly controlled information into the hands of people who would have done unspeakable things with it - strike two.

Despite this, the powers-that-be decided to keep him on - he is, admittedly, an immensely talented doctor, and there were enough mitigating circumstances in both instances that our sister company felt that he was free of blame. We, however, felt he needed closer monitoring, and so over the past few months I've been sending people in to observe him closely, so we could be sure he's working for us and not outside influences.

We didn't get anywhere. The trouble was, while he wasn't doing anything "suspicious", he was also acting so perfectly in line with regulation that that in itself seemed suspicious. Trust me, I've been working in this business for a long time - very few people are *that* good for *that* long.

So this got us thinking - either he was a very serious threat and needed to be dealt with, or else a ridiculously talented, ridiculously good doctor who would be an asset to our company, right? But the usual methods weren't getting us anywhere. And with his skills of deception (that law-breaking I mentioned? He'd hidden it for fifteen years) and capacity for sudden actions (the secret-selling was planned spontaneously within 24 hours), I know we'd have to do something slightly... off the books, let's say, to get the results we needed.

My plan was very simple - we arrested him and questioned him, using an implanted relay to record his neuroelectric responses so that we'd know for sure if he was innocent or not. Admittedly, we didn't want to cause a stir in the sister company, so on one of his days off, we carried out the whole thing in a holosuite, so that the responses of his colleagues etc. were all controlled by us, and he believed that it was real. Part of the investigation included sharing our suspicions with him that he was working for some other organisation with harmful intent, and we manufactured some evidence to see how he would respond.

Fortunately for all of us, it turned out he was innocent. It seemed our sister company had judged the mitigating circumstances well, and that those incidents truly were things in the past that he regretted - and he certainly wasn't working for anyone outside the company. In fact - just like me, it seems - he is a man who works with the company's and our clients best interests at heart, at all times. Naturally, we debriefed him, congratulated him on passing our test, and invited him to join us as a medical consultant - to put his talents to even greater use. He declined, though, and we parted ways.

So here's where the debate comes in. Some of my colleagues think I went too far in my methods, but I stand by my actions. The doctor absolutely could have been a security risk, and I'd argue, in fact, that all evidence pointed towards him being a traitor. At any rate, everyone in my company who knew about him was anxious about his loyalties before I did this, and now we don't have to expend any more resources on figuring out what his deal is.

I also believe that I wouldn't be facing this criticism if the doctor had agreed to join our company, which is a decision I had no control over. Some of my colleagues feel that he would have been a real asset and are frustrated that my actions put him off our company - however, I would argue that if he can't understand the reasons for what I did, he's not a good fit for our company anyway. And besides, it's only been a week, he might well change his mind in the future. It's really too early to tell.

Tl;dr - my job is investigating security threats. I used a simulated environment to arrest and interrogate a doctor about whom everyone in my company had extreme concerns, and discovered he was not a threat. Now some people are saying I went too far: I say I was just doing my job.

(in response to this challenge set by @the-last-dillpickle and @hellostuffedtiger for Sloan AITA posts)