#change. if you were capable of it you'd done it at this point.

[navy-heart]

God why is my mother such a terrible human being

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko

AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo

~1400 word count

Part 2 once your done reading :)

SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...

The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.

You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.

"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.

On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.

Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.

"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.

While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.

You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.

Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.

Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."

Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.

Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"

'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'

You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.

Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.

You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.

Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.

"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.

[the-modern-typewriter]

your writing is seriously amazing and what got me back into role-play writing! thank you! if possible could we get a human princess who attempted to outsmart a fae king and failed miserably? whether it be for power of her own, or the better good of her people and now she is to be at his side, watching the consequences of her own schemes play against her?

"You..."

"Me," the fairy king said. He sat upon her father's throne with the improper grace so common to his kind - legs dangling over one of the arms. He twirled the crown of her kingdom between his elegant fingers like it was a mere trinket.

The princess squared her shoulders.

"You tricked me," she said. "I asked you to get me out of this - this wretched marriage and you-!"

His head tilted, gaze sharpening a fraction, as she panted. His eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit room, ever brighter with the rain pelting outside of the window, like he was the only thing that the sun still remembered.

"I'm not marrying you," she said, through gritted teeth.

"You didn't ask not to marry me," he said. "You asked not to marry Prince Calloway or any of the other silly mortal men intent on wielding your power as their own. I do not fall under either of those categories."

That was true. But she hadn't thought for a second-

"You asked," he continued relentlessly, "to rule upon your throne forever more. You never specified you would do so alone."

"It was implied."

"Implication is not a contract."

"Why would you even want to marry me!?"

"Why would you think for a second you were capable of outsmarting a fairy king?"

The princess swallowed.

His voice hadn't exactly changed, still light and breezy, but something as old and dangerous as winter lurked beneath his sunny smile.

The deal had been a simple one, a classic tale. He would save her from the stupid fate her father thought best for her, and she would give him her first-born child. Fool on him that she didn't plan on having any children no matter the lineage of her bloodline. Why would she need to do that when she planned to be the first and eternal queen of her kingdom?

"I suppose," he said, with a sigh, "it is because you are a silly, spoiled mortal, no? Incapable of coping with the one time daddy didn't cave to your whims immediately. A child throwing a temper tantrum."

"That doesn't sound like someone you want to marry."

"Oh, you'll learn. Don't worry."

Her fists clenched. "I do not need your tutelage."

"Evidence suggests otherwise."

"I'm not marrying you."

"Your father has already agreed. And you owe me a child."

"It's absurd to marry someone simply to punish them!"

"Your unhappiness is a mere bonus."

"You're insufferable!"

"Careful, beloved." The very rain outside seemed to stop for a moment, two, as the princess's heart hammered. "For a second there it seemed like you'd forgotten who exactly you were addressing."

Her mouth dried.

He was prettier than Calloway was, but it was easy to mistake him as having the same nature. A foolish prince. Some player of the court too dumb to realise when he was being manipulated, as so many of them were.

He was not that.

He was very much not that.

"I'll marry Calloway," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. Calloway, at least, could be controlled. He was a brute, an idiot, but...

"Too late. The deal is done."

"We could make another deal."

"Why would I wish to make another deal? You have nothing else that I want."

"I - but I - I'm not marrying you. I refuse."

"Then you will be in breach of contract." His head tilted the other way. "Do you know what happens to silly little mortals who breach their contract with me?"

She did, regrettably, know that much. She had read about the fae before she summoned him. She hadn't - well, she'd considered some of the lesser fairies of his court and kind, the less powerful ones, but she was a princess. She'd thought it only right that she dealt with royalty. With him.

Now...

"You've made your point," she said. Her pride burned. "Please."

"Kneel."

She'd never knelt for anyone or anything in her life. She dropped to the cool tiles, face aflame with embarrassment, fear twisting in her stomach.

"What is my point, princess?"

"I'm - you're smarter than me," she said. "I'm a fool. A silly mortal girl."

"Indeed."

"So I've learned my lesson. You don't need to do this."

"Are you sorry?"

"I'm so sorry," she said. She managed to squeeze out a few tears. "I was unforgivably rude. You have my deepest, sincerest apologies. Sire. Uh - fairy king."

"Mm." He finally adjusted his pose, no longer so careless, sitting properly, leaned forward a little to appraise her with his handsome face resting upon his hands.

"So..." She dared another glance at him, biting down on her lip. "You'll call off the deal? Write this all off as a mortal mistake?"

"Oh, not at all," he said. He flashed her a smile. "But it's always good to start a marriage as one means to go on, isn't it?"

"You!" She jerked to her feet, dashing the tears from her cheeks. She managed to stop herself from outright insulting him again as he raised a delicate eyebrow.

"Me." Flat. Simmering.

She backed up a step. Her breath caught in her throat.

Thunder rumbled on the horizon.

"You're dismissed, princess," he said, cold, bored. "After all." He straightened. "You have a wedding to prepare for, don't you?"

She really wished, later, that she hadn't asked him for forever.

[notthecutesttrash]

Mascara and Tears

Content: You’ve escaped him before, and this time you’ve made a life for yourself. You decide one day to go out with another man and risk him finding you.

Warnings: 18+ Dark bloodlust Gojo, kidnapping, death, blood, implied noncon, yandere stuff you know.

Word Count: 2.5k

It’s been months after the first escape attempt. 

Gojo had been on a mission and left his door barely locked, it was enough for you to devise a plan to make a run for it. 

You were caught in half an hour. 

It’s been weeks after your second. 

You managed to drug him when he least expected it, leaving you to escape as quietly as possible. 

This time, you left no trace. This time, you’d be happy.

You’ve studied him well enough to know that he was capable of finding you. But he hasn’t, so you know you’ve done a good job. Still, you find yourself terrified even in the cold nights. Occasionally you’re overcome by fear and restlessness as paranoia surges through your mind. 

You’re angrily pressing your fingers into dough before your coworker Andy pats your back and saves you from the contemplation. “Treat the dough with a little respect (Y/n), it’s your friend, not an enemy,” he jokes and you force a small chuckle. 

“Sorry, just got too into it.” 

He laughs in response and begins to knead at one of his pieces. “I get it, sometimes it’s fun to play with and throw around. You can make some pizzas, bread, or sweets. You can do anything with dough, and that’s the beauty." He’s nearly beaming at you, and you're stifling a chortle, breaking out with a “nerd.” 

“Hey!” He points accusingly and you snicker. 

When a comfy silence erupts and you’re both drawn into your work, after a few minutes, Andy clears his throat. “So, (Y/n).”

You turn to him, and there’s a small blush on his cheeks. Your heart drops a little, and you’re begging silently. Please don’t say it.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks after this shift?” 

He said it. 

Inwardly sighing, you squint your eyes as if lost in thought and he stammers. “I mean, I know you always have a busy schedule, but I just thought- I don’t know, it’d be nice to get your mind away from things for a change. You always look so tense.” 

No matter how many times he or your other coworkers would ask, you were always busy. One day your sister had to be picked up, you had to run to the hospital, or your dog needed walking. Meanwhile, in reality, you’d sit at home and cradle yourself in fear. Sure that the one moment you're caught off guard, you'd find Gojo sitting quietly in your room with the lights off, ready to take you just like the last time.

Humming in response, you agree, you are always tense. 

Maybe just one day of going out would do you good. He wasn’t bound to find you just from a chat at the bar right? There’s only so much sitting and moping around in lonely shivers that you can partake in.

Besides, if you’re actually free now, you can finally have friends. People to make you happy, to have conversations with, and to freely walk around with wherever you want. Rather than just being kept in a locked room that was no bigger than a dozen feet across. 

Maybe if he finds you again, you’d at least be happy with just having this bit of freedom. 

Shaking yourself out of the thoughts, your brows knit together angrily. You’re not going to let that happen. 

Turning to Andy, you give him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’d be fine.” He gasps and practically bounces in the joy that he attempts to so poorly conceal. 

He works with the dough a little less focused now as the grin stays glued to his face. “Awesome, so there’s this place around town that just opened up, heard it’s fancy though, don’t know if you want to go there.” 

You shrug. Truthfully because you never went anywhere or did anything you had a bit of spare money saved up. You didn’t mind splurging for today.

But what if Gojo finds your records? What if somehow has your bank account information? Or finds you had gone there with another man? 

“(Y/n)?” Andy calls out when you don’t answer.

“No no,  I don’t mind, sounds great. But don’t know if we’re really well equipped for that after work.” Gesturing to your clothes filled with baking powder, Andy glances to his own and shares a laugh. 

“You’re right.” A blush scatters to his face again and you’re exhaling a small sigh. 

“I guess I can pick you up after..?” He trails off expectantly, his hand brushing against his neck as he timidly averts away. If only Gojo hadn’t ever been involved, then you’d think about having a possible romance.

“Sure.” 

You press your hands into the substance for what feels like hours until your wrist feels like it’s going to fall off. And when you go home, you’re holding your breath, a stammering in your chest as you walk through the door. Your first instinct is to always immediately click the lights and when you'd notice nothing, you'll slump in great relief. 

You refuse to allow the thoughts of this kidnapper to ruin your day out. You’re free now, that’s all there is to it, and you dress yourself up real pretty to prove that. Even having the liberty to apply makeup which you’ve never done for Gojo. 

Not even if he tortured you and rubbed the bottom of your lip, declaring just how pretty you’d be if they were stained red just for him to ruin. Even if he forced you on your knees and implied just how much he’d love it if he could see the mascara rolling down your cheeks while you cried. 

This time, you were going to be beautiful to no one else's enjoyment but yourself.

Andy had been patiently waiting and when you stepped out his heart sped into his throat. You smile at him and his skin burns red. 

“Now I almost feel a little underdressed,” he mumbles awkwardly glancing down at his attire. 

“Don’t worry, you look fine. Anything’s better than the baking powder.” Sharing a giggle, you two begin walking, the clack of your heels echoing against the sidewalk.

Andy is continuously glimpsing to you, then at the ground. His bottom lip draws into his mouth. “You look.. amazing by the way,” he finally breaks the silence, and you turn to him, gleaming.  

“Thanks.”

He gazes at you too long, gawking in amazement, and you lightly poke him out of the concentration. “Relax, I’m not that good-looking.” You joke, and he instantly shakes his head. 

“That’s not true (Y/n), seriously, you are.. you’re beautiful.” 

It's been awhile since you had a genuine compliment that wasn't so creepy sounding.

You would’ve rolled your eyes at the twinkling in his orbs. But this time you’re flattered and a light pink forms.

“Thanks.. I don’t typically get pretty for events or anything… I don’t really go out in general.” 

“Why not?” He’s quick to ask, brows knitting in worry. 

You cuss beneath your breath. Too much oversharing. Not talking to a person in a while will do that to you.

“Nothing- I just don’t like to. More of an.. inside person I guess.” Your eyes avoid his peering and he breaks out into a small smile. 

“I get it, my sis is like that, introvert right?”

You nod. That wasn’t remotely the reason, but you'll let him think that.

“I’m a bit of both, you know, I like talking but not too much. Sometimes it can be draining, sometimes it can be-“

“This isn’t going to be like your rambles about dough is it?” You cut him off jokingly and he shyly averts. 

“No no- sorry.. I have a tendency to talk too much.” Andy grazes his arm awkwardly, and you feel him distance himself a little. Perhaps that was a bit mean. 

You try to ease the heaviness in the atmosphere. “I like hearing your rambling. I was just being sarcastic, don't worry. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to joke like that,” you admit, and you notice him visibly relax. 

“That’s okay.” He beams and you mimic the expression.

When you reach the bar you’re in a nice little section by yourselves, and you’re surrounded by comfortable lighting, modern decorations, leather brown chairs, and relaxed people doing their own things.

It was amazing. 

“You act like you haven’t seen people in years,” Andy chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink. 

An evident frown shifts your expresion and he notices. His hand carefully touches your wrist and you shift to him.

“Sorry, did I offend?” 

Shaking your head, you force a small smile and declare an excuse. Whether it be along the lines of “just tired,” “lost in thought,” or anything else, it was all the same. The truth was too horrid even for you to bear. Seriously, how unlucky did you have to be for that?

There was only so much you could do for yourself. You’re ecstatic you managed to escape. You have a life now. You can see all these people, revel in the laughter, maybe even fall in love and have children. Though, maybe you were getting too ahead of yourself.

You made sure not to get drunk. When you walked home that was always the scariest part of the day. Whether it be at night, or in the morning, it didn’t make too much of a difference. A dangerous fear you have is walking pass a certain tall figure with white hair.

Though he’d more likely take the scarier approach. Stealthy. Watching you from the shadows and contemplating when he’d take you. You wondered many times if this was the case already. Perhaps he is just toying with your freedom. 

Repeatedly you force away from the anxieties. You can’t think so negatively. You have a life now. It’s already been a few weeks. You bested him whether he liked it or not. You won. 

Andy fortunately isn’t too drunk either, maybe a bit tipsy, but nothing unsafe. Man or not, having another person beside you made you feel comfortable. Even if Gojo was watching, he or any rational person isn’t likely to just snatch a person when they’re with another. It’s just too suspicious. No one can risk that. 

“Are you okay? You look scared,” Andy asks, and you fake a tug at your lips, a pouring discomfort in you. 

“I’m okay, it’s just the night can be a little creepy you know." You quickly reason.

Andy purses his lips, pondering a moment before draping his arm over your shoulder. Surprise rushes to you, a swarm of butterflies swooning at the gesture. He was warm, and his grip unlike Gojo’s was gentle. It was like you’d break if he held you any harder. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” He speaks with a determined but sweet tone and you giggle, leaning into his touch. 

“How sweet.” A mocking voice behind your form makes you stop dead in your tracks, eyes going wide. 

“(Y/n)?” Andy turns when you aren’t keeping up with him, and you’re frozen, still as a plank of wood. His eyes blink up at the cause, surely meeting your worst nightmare. 

You're terrified, but instinctively you whirl around, tears brewing in your eyes as you shout, “Don’t hurt him!” 

Gojo’s blue orbs are shining down at you, and he’s smiling wide.

“Oh?” He muses, raising his brow as he walks over to you. Every step he made caused you to flinch in place, and your hands were shaking as he rounded closer.

Suddenly his lips press to your ears and he whispers, “Should’ve thought about that before you ran off and made new friends.” 

Instinctively, Andy rushes to shove him away and Gojo holds out his hand, forcing him to stop in place. He grins, and you step back, fixating on those eyes you dreaded so much. “Don’t..” you plead.

Snickering, he strolls to Andy whose almost frozen, and he casually observes his features with a dark gaze. “Hm, I at least expected you to pursue someone better.” 

You open your mouth to speak, and blood splatters over you, gushing atop your pretty makeup. Your throat is unable to let out a blaring scream, instead your shaky hands move to your vision. Red. Red liquid splotched against your fingers, staining your skin. 

Gojo lets out a tired exhale, and he starts caressing your hair in the way you hate so much. The way he’d pet you without an ounce of care once he'd finish giving you a punishment or would cause you to heave out with sobs.

He's scanning you for a second until he moves and you instinctively shift back. Repeating, you step and something big crunches beneath your heel, causing you to fall back.

Finally, the scream escapes, and you’re rushing to crawl away from the horror. Blood is decorating the ground, the walls, the trash that lays around, everything, anywhere but on him. Gojo is sauntering, and there's a grin spreading his features wide.

Your desperate movement leads to no avail when your back hits a wall and Gojo eventually crouches down to you.

“Get away from me!” You shout as Gojo tugs your hair forcefully back.

His blue orbs glower at you. “Huh?” His grip tightens, and you whine from the pain searing in your scalp. “What was that?” He tugs harder and you scream.

Tears start to cascade, and you plead desperately. “Please d-don’t take me back.” The force pulling your locks lessens, and he stoically observes the scene.

You’re hiccuping through your sobs as you keep going, “P-Please… I don’t want to go back, I’ll do a-anything, p-please don’t take me there, please.” 

A grin finally breaks out as he speaks, “Now, where’s the fun in that?” He evilly snickers in a way that has you crying more. Even if you know pleading with him will do nothing, you’re desperate.

But it’ll only further amuse him.

“I don’t want t-to go." You’re whining pathetically, and he exhales a disappointed sigh as he ignores you to study the mascara falling in streams at your cheeks. 

“Man, what a waste,” he mutters to himself then presses a hand to his chin, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought.

“I’m surprised you even managed to avoid me for a whole month, I’m almost impressed.” His view is fixated on the sky as he continues. 

“Looks like the first punishment wasn’t enough. So hm, what am I going to do now?” He fakes a curiosity while a glimmer shines in his eyes. He knows, and so do you, and you’re sniveling through the choke in your throat at the thought. 

“I was gonna be all nice to you too. Even when you don’t deserve it,” he sighs. “I was gonna take you back home, have a sweet dinner date since it’s been so long, but.. since you decided to get all pretty for that guy there,” he motions to the corpse behind him, then zones in on you.

“I’ll have a bit of fun with you first.” 

You’re exploding into a fit of panicked tears, desperate begs falling from your lips. “P-Please don’t do this.” 

“Aw,” He mockingly coos, wiping a few tears from your eyes. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll love it.” 

·:*:· ★ ·:*:· ·:*:· ★ ·:*:·　 

A quick sketch for my girls out there.

[dyns33]

Family trust

The Shelbys and the Solomons are back again with some new adventures about stupidity and love.

First there was a call from Tommy. Simple, short, straight to the point, her brother only telling her that her husband had been seen in the Russian quarter.

Several things were important to understanding this call. The Russians were dangerous, the last time the Shelbys had dealt with them it hadn't gone very well, and Alfie Solomons was partly to blame for it, because even though he hated the Russians, he thought of himself and his business first.

Her brother just wanted to know if Y/N knew anything about that. After all, maybe it was nothing. A necessary detour, without there having been a secret meeting. But he wanted to check.

She didn't know, but she promised to find out.

If she had asked Alfie directly, there was a chance he would tell the truth, or be unable to keep from groaning while trying to lie like a child. He would do this when she asked him if he had eaten the last loaf of bread, accusing Cyril.

To be sure of having an answer, Y/N asked Ollie if her husband had met the Russians.

"… Why are you asking me that, Mrs. Solomons ?"

“So that’s a yes.”

"I didn't say that, Madam ! I mean… You'd have to ask him, I wasn't there. He doesn't always say what he does."

“But you know he had to see them.”

"… I know he asked for a meeting. He came back in one piece, without a drop of blood and looking satisfied. I don't think it was important."

With his big eyes, Ollie silently begged her not to push it, because his boss was really in a good mood lately, and everyone wanted to keep it that way.

Y/N didn't go to see Alfie, and she hesitated to tell her brothers. Maybe it wasn't anything important after all.

Then Polly called her, to warn her that there had been an altercation between the Russians and the Peaky Blinders. Some men had been killed or arrested by the coppers. John and Arthur were injured.

“Tommy told me your husband saw these sons of bitches recently.”

"… Yes, but there is not necessarily a link."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Your brother is coming to Camden, I wanted to warn you. He needs to speak with Solomons to make sure he hasn't betrayed us again."

It wasn't really a surprise to see her brother walk into her house a little over an hour later. What was surprising was what he said.

“Get your stuff.”

"Tommy, what's going on ? Pol told me you wanted to talk to Alfie about the Russians, what did he say ?"

"Nothing. He wouldn't tell me anything except that I could go fuck myself. I know he's involved. Now you grab your things and come with me. You're not safe here. I should never have let you go."

Part of her wanted to protest, refusing to believe that her husband could have done such a thing, and asserting her right to stay with him if she wanted.

The problem was that her husband was perfectly capable of such a thing, having done it several times in the past. He had framed Arthur, he had participated in the Italian assassination attempt on Tom, he had let Charlie be kidnapped.

For all these things, Alfie had apologized, each time, several times, but that never stopped him from doing it again.

Everyone had thought their marriage was proof of change. Of trust. If he truly loved their sister, he would never go after the Shelby again, because that would definitely hurt Y/N.

And in the months that had passed since their union, that seemed to have been the case, until today.

If he had still given them to the Italians, Y/N would have almost been able to understand. Even to the Americans. But the Russians ?

Alfie spoke Russian because his mother was Russian, his mother who he loved as much as he hated those pretentious vodka drinkers who hated Jews and chased her through the snow with dogs.

He didn't do business with them, or only to make sure they wouldn't try to encroach on his territory.

If Alfie Solomons gave you to the Russians, that meant something, something terrible.

Y/N still remembered those many marriage proposals. Of all those nights when he looked at her with passion, whispering that he was the happiest man in the world since she became his wife. His love seemed strong and sincere, more important than anything else.

But maybe he lied. Or perhaps he had finally grown tired of her. He was able to realize that people had been right at the beginning of their story, that she was not good enough for him, that she shamed him, this little gypsy bastard.

So he no longer had any reason to be good with the Peaky Blinders. She left no words as she followed Thomas, taking nothing with her and quickly patting Cyril on the head who tried to follow her to the door.

Her departure seemed to come as a shock, because Alfie called. It was Arthur who answered, shouting throughout the house that he had no interest in trying to contact his sister, who should never have married him, and that he would be dead the second he would try to contact her again or if he was seeing in Birmingham.

After hanging up, his rage didn't go away immediately, and Arthur yelled at Y/N, asking her how she could have agreed to marry that stinking rat. But he calmed down when he saw his little sister's sad eyes, muttering apologies as he took her in his arms.

The anger completely passed, worry took place in the family, because Y/N remained sad. At first, they didn't understand why, because they had clearly told her that they didn't blame her, that it wasn't her fault, and that they still loved her.

Then, as she left her sobbing on her shoulder, Ada understood that her sister was sad because she missed her husband.

She loved her family and so she would choose them, but this betrayal had pierced her heart. She had loved Alfie, she had never imagined he would do such a thing. It was like a bereavement and she had difficulty accepting it.

They tried everything to cheer her up. Jokes, going to the sea, horse rides, nothing helped. Y/N was mourning the loss of her dear Alfie.

So it was with an air of shame that Tommy came and sat down next to her, taking her hand, remaining silent for a long moment.

"… Alfie didn't sell us out to the Russians."

"… What ?" Y/N asked as she came out of her trance, turning to her brother.

"I got some new information. I don't know what he was doing with them, but it had nothing to do with what happened. I… You were right, I'm sorry."

“But you went to see him.”

"As I said, he refused to tell me what he was dealing with, that it was none of my business. He looked suspicious, so I thought… I was wrong. There didn't seem to be any another explanation."

"… You were wrong. You are sorry. I abandoned my husband, who must hate me now, who will never want me again because I humiliated him, and you are sorry ?"

"Little sis…"

"Leave me !"

It seemed impossible to return to London. It had been weeks since she had any news, since she had not called, not trying to find out if he was innocent and leaving him without the slightest hesitation. How could he forgive such an act ? Y/N wasn’t sure she could.

She therefore remained locked in her room, her health deteriorating even more, causing her whole family to panic. They wouldn't be able to get over it if she died of grief, but she didn't want to talk to them anymore, not even her sister or her aunt.

Hiding under her blanket, she didn't move when someone came in, probably begging her to eat or telling her they were all sorry for the hundredth time. It seemed pointless to react, they quickly understood that they were not welcome when they saw that she did not respond.

“Treacle ?”

Her body moved before her mind fully understood what was happening. In an instant, she was sitting up, discovering Alfie kneeling by her bed. He looked terribly tired.

"Alfie. What… What are you doing here ?"

"Thomas called me. He told me you weren't feeling well. It's obviously even worse than the time I came for that nasty flu. Tea probably won't be enough, uh ? What’s wrong with you, love ?”

"What's wrong ?! I left you ! You must… You must hate me now." she cried, unable to stop the tears from falling.

With his large hands, Alfie wiped them all with patience and tenderness, drawing her to him to rest in his arms.

"Don't cry, love. I don't hate you. I'm not angry. At first I panicked when I found the house empty. Then Arthur said you didn't want to see me anymore, and I believed that you left me because I was a poor husband."

“You are the best husband in the world.”

"Yeah. You must have a fever or obvious lack of sleep. Tommy explained to me about the Russians. He asked me what I was doing with them, but he didn't mention the little problems that he had, otherwise I would have understood better what I was being accused of."

"I knew you wouldn't betray us. I knew that, but they said… They were sure…"

“Shh.” her husband said kindly, caressing her back. "I know. We have a complicated past, I understand why they would have believed that. I should have talked to your brother, I was afraid he would ruin the surprise."

"The surprise ?"

As usual, Alfie blamed Ollie and his men for the whole affair. And their wives. Because they had all noted the date of their boss's wedding, and they had told him that it would be good if he did something special for their anniversary.

Alfie hadn't thought of that. He didn't think it was that important, since he treated his wife like a queen absolutely every day.

But he had seen the couple's arguments about it, and besides not wanting to sleep in the living room, he wanted to make Y/N happy. He had first thought about buying a house in Margate. Paradise on Earth. They would still have their accommodation in London, but they could go there to have peace of mind.

When he talked to Ollie about it, the young man replied that it might be a little too much, or not enough. It was Alfie's dream to have this house, not Mrs Solomons', who would probably prefer to stay close to her family.

So he asked advice from these employees who were so good with women, and after hearing about flowers, perfumes, and food, someone mentioned diamonds.

He had given Y/N a lot of gifts, but never diamonds. Real diamonds, magnificent, pure, worthy of her. And the best diamonds were the Russians.

It actually meant something if Alfie Solomons agreed to talk to Russians for you.

Keeping her close, he took a necklace out of his pocket, placing it on the bed. A pure marvel indeed, far too beautiful for her. Y/N had never had jewelry like this.

“That’s what Ollie said.” Alfie sighed, resting his head on hers. "You little bastard. No gift was right for him. Well, I think he wanted to make sure you'd be happy, and since you're a goddess to my bakers, no gift was right. I can't totally blame them, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah, love. You didn't do anything. It's the Russians and your brothers' fault. A few weeks isn't that long. I told everyone you were visiting your family, and that I was very happy to have the house all to myself."

"And you were ? Happy ?" she asked shyly, still immersed in her sad state.

"Hmm. Maybe all of Camden will tell you that I wandered around like a lost dog, barking at everyone, and maybe even cried in my office once over whiskey. But people are liars."

"I missed you too."

"I wanted to come several times. I didn't care about your brother's threats, but I wasn't sure you wanted me to come, so I hung out on the station platforms, and I gave lots of contradictory orders to poor Ishmael, and finally I went home like a coward."

“I would like to go home now.”

“In London or Margate ?”

“… You bought the house in Margate ?”

"Of course, treacle. I've been thinking about it for a long time, before I even met you, and since I've known you, I can't stop imagining you there. It will truly be heaven on earth as soon as you're in this house. If you want to come with me."

Seeing her coming down the stairs, Tommy couldn't hold back a smile, relieved to see that his sister was better. He made a sympathetic comment about the necklace, but it was obvious that he too thought it was too much.

Still a little angry that he took his wife away, Alfie quickly greeted them to go wait in the car, giving Y/N time to say goodbye properly. She might have been furious too, but they had already paid for their mistake, now knowing what would happen if they separated the couple without a good reason.

In addition to these extravagant wedding anniversary gifts, Y/N learned that the Russian gang had been almost completely arrested by the police, thanks to an anonymous informant. But Alfie, with his lying face, said he didn't see why she was thanking him.

[o-sachi]

Roses and Thorns ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ you always wondered what what his tattoo meant... and now you know

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; angst, more angst, but comfort at the end, depiction of Kaiser's trauma, no y/n, gn reader

Roses naturally came in colors of red, pink, yellow...

But never blue.

Yet, that was the same flower that adorned his arm. From his neck and down to the back of his hand, a beautiful blue rose littered his pallid skin. You always thought it was a captivating tattoo and in many ways—it was what made Kaiser... Kaiser.

Throughout your relationship, your perception of him changes and so does your idea about what his tattoo might mean. You could have asked him directly why he had it done, but where's the fun in that?

You liked the mystery and besides, he never talked about it in the first place.

That led you to think that it was one of those tattoos that people get on a whim. Not all tattoos had a deep meaning—sometimes it's just cool to look at.

Kaiser doesn't seem like the sentimental type after all. The only thing he probably cared about in this world was football and hopefully... you.

However, that view changed the longer you've been together. After seeing more sides to him, you realized how naive and insensitive it was to box him as the kind of person who had no capability to feel deeply for anything else.

The world may know him as an arrogant prodigy, but only you knew everything else behind that. You knew the tireless dedication he had to the sport—spending many restless nights watching replays of previous matches. You knew the vulnerable Kaiser whenever he'd spend weeks away from you—missing you all the way from his fancy hotel room.

But even then, you still had no idea what his tattoo meant. In fact, the more you got to know the true Kaiser, the more doubtful you became of the countless theories you've conjured up about his ink.

Nevertheless, you were firm in your belief that you knew him inside and out. The tattoo could remain a mystery for all you cared.

But roses always came with thorns and you had to learn the hard way.

It had been a couple of weeks since you've last seen each other. Being a football superstar was cruel. What people don't see behind the glamour are all the lonely nights he spends away from your arms.

As soon as he saw you standing in the doorway of your shared condo, he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He swayed you side-to-side, inhaling your scent that had dulled in his memory after all this time being apart from each other.

After being absent for so long, all he wanted was to sit back and relax with you—no fancy dinners or grand dates. None of that. All he wanted was to be cooped up in your arms until he fell asleep, only to wake up again in the morning.

You indulge him, of course. You wanted it too anyway.

Both of you were now sat on the sofa. It was one of those L-shaped sofas you'd see in home magazines. They were large, but the space was wasted on the two of you since you'd much rather be cramped together in a suffocating embrace. It was better that way.

You absentmindedly traced the black stems of his tattoo as you held him—as you always did. Although, it was a bit odd. Normally, at this point he'd be going in and out of sleep—fighting back the drooping of his eyelids so that he could keep talking to you.

But he was wide awake.

"You don't seem tired tonight huh?"

He huffs out. "Chugging 2 energy drinks after lunch wasn't the best idea."

"Seriously? 2? What for?" you asked, a bit puzzled.

"I figured it would give me enough energy to at least hang out with you a bit before dozing off again, but I miscalculated. That shit was strong..."

Oh... How can you be mad now?

You could only chuckle at his thoughtfulness. "We could always catch up in the morning, y'know? It's not like I'm gonna disappear."

"Eh, still," he retorts, stubborn as ever. "We haven't had a movie night in a long time anyway."

He a had point. Back then movie nights were frequent. Both of you loved it—chilling, eating popcorn, and watching a good flick before bed.

It was good timing. Before his long-awaited arrival, you had been planning on how to surprise him in little ways. You wanted to keep him on his toes and it just so happens you figured out a way to spice up movie night.

You downloaded a bunch of old romantic German movies. It would be a lot different from the usual movies that you'd watch, but he might appreciate watching a movie from his own country. He had a preference for English movies, that much you knew. It was the only thing he'd watch for some unknown reason.

Excited—you hopped off the couch at lightning speed, ready as ever to retrieve the hard drive with all your downloads. As soon as you set everything up, you were back in your earlier position with him on the sofa.

"What's up with the hard drive? You forgot to pay for your streaming account?"

You shook your head with a smile. "No, I just have a surprise~"

"Surprise huh?" A small smile formed on his face at the thought. What could be so surprising about a movie?

The film starts off with a pitch black screen before a soft song filters in. He quickly recognized that it was German—it was a German love song.

He only needed to hear that to know what the "surprise" was.

Kaiser bit his lower lip in anticipation, not that you knew what exactly he was anticipating in the first place.

He wanted to be wrong—so wrong. He hoped that he wouldn't have to see her. The woman with beautiful long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes... the woman who most resembled him.

His mother.

But fate had a funny way of curbing expectations because she was right there on screen, smiling at him.

How cruel was it that the movie you chose—out of all the German movies out there—it had to be this one.

You were quick to notice the resemblance too. The eyes... the smile... they were practically the same. Perhaps he was aware of it too with how he stiffened in your grasp.

But before you could point it out, he had excused himself. "I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec... don't wait up for me."

The sudden change of the air around him was one thing, but for him to let the movie playing without him was another. He'd always ask you to pause it if he had to leave even for a millisecond.

...Did you do something wrong?

Worry filled you to your bones. It was unusual, sure. Maybe you were overthinking it. But the longer you stayed alone on the sofa—in the darkness of the room—the less you believed that you were being melodramatic.

Maybe there was something wrong with the way he turned rigid upon seeing that woman. Maybe there was something wrong about the way he abruptly stood up and left.

Your thoughts got the best of you and you decided to check up on him. In his haste, Kaiser forgot to lock the door. So, there you were—standing by the door and staring at him.

There was something definitely wrong with the way he clutched the bathroom sink as he breathed raggedly.

You could see how his fingers turned white as he gripped his arm, almost as if clawing at the rose etched on his arm.

"What's wrong?"

Your voice snapped him back to reality. Truthfully, he didn't know what was wrong. He thought he had gotten over it all—how his mother left him and how his father treated him. But he was wrong.

There was a reason he avoided those kinds of films. He was scared she'd pop up... looking happy.. acting happy—in a world where she didn't have to be concerned with her own son.

But that's precisely it. He chose to run away from it all instead of confronting it. So now that he was faced with her after all this time of avoiding anything that evoked the concept of her—he broke down.

And he hated that he had to do it in front of you.

But it was involuntary. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

His silence told you enough—all you had to know was that he needed your embrace. To which, you indulge him again.

You cautiously made your way over to him, hovering your arms around him at first before finally pulling him into you. The air stilled around you and time stopped for a moment. Neither of you moved a muscle or spoke a word—feeling content to stay like this for however long.

Eventually, he let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. He turned around to face you, unbothered if you had to see how glassy his eyes became or if his mouth was fixed in a frown.

All this suspense caused a pit to form in your stomach. Your chest felt hollow and your hands were clammy. If he stayed silent another second longer, the water works would've kicked into high gear.

"Sorry... did I scare you?" he asked while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Sniffling a bit, you wiped your eyes as if tears have already rolled down—though, it definitely felt as if it had. "I... no, I was just worried about you. What's wrong? Please tell me."

The way you pleaded at him clenched his heart painfully. Kaiser pulled you in, planting your face into his chest. His hand caressed your hair with his chin poking the top of your head as he embraced you softly.

"Do you believe in the impossible?" he asked.

All train of thought stopped in an instant. You didn't like that this confrontation you were having was slowly turning into one of those philosophical discourse about the meaning of life and whatnot. All you wanted to know was what happened to him—plain and simple.

"That woman on the screen," he continued. "That was my mother."

The normal reaction would be shock, but it made sense. Perhaps this wasn't developing into that philosophical discourse you dreaded.

"Back then I thought I'd never have to see her in person. Maybe in one of her films, but in the flesh? I would only dream of it. But then..." he chuckles, reminiscing of the past. "Not long after that thought... I came across her on the street. Well, more like I was loitering and she was surrounded by fans while she made her way into a hotel."

His expression dropped at the recollection of such a bittersweet memory. "She never looked my way. She only smiled at the people vying for her attention. But it's funny isn't it?"

You had no idea what was so humorous about it. The revelations were coming too quick for you to let it all sink in. Silence was the only response available from you.

"Then, a week after that, the police took me away from my father." He lets out a stifled laugh out of disbelief. "And back then I thought I'd never get away from him."

"The impossible always seems to happen," he adds.

His past was just too sad, almost like it was taken from a sappy telenovela. But the fact that it was real rendered you speechless. All you could do was hug him tighter to show him that you were still with him.

With an ear to his chest, you could hear how his heartbeat went from erratic to steady. Letting that all out had calmed him down, thankfully. You felt yourself growing relaxed as well. Your eyes wandered to his arm—to the rose that entangled his limb.

To answer his question earlier—no, you didn't believe in the impossible. It's called impossible for a reason. But the sincerity in his voice had you thinking otherwise.

Blue roses... those are impossible too, you thought to yourself as your eyes trailed his tattoo. It could be another one of your silly theories, but the coincidence was hard to deny.

His hands stopped caressing your head, choosing to find purchase on your lower back instead. This prompted you to look up at him and the sheepish smile on his face.

"And..." he started again. "I thought it would be impossible for me to be loved..."

"Yet, here you are."

[🐟]: HELP THIS IS SO CHEESY I'M SORRY. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[intriq]

Daffodil

Part of my Hanahaki series

Character: Jason Todd

Theme: Angst

Daffodil: regard, unequalled love

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

You've known Jason for awhile. You've been friends for a few years at this point.

You've seen him change and grow. Grieved him when he died, welcomed him back when he returned. Supported him when he needed it, because truthfully? He did need it. Even if he was a stubborn asshole about it.

But you also loved him throughout those years. Through all those changes.

You loved him when he died, loved him when you visited his headstone, and you loved him even when he came back. You just always did.

But you also knew he never loved you back. He was never quite capable of seeing of just how head over heels you were for him, even though his family could. To him, you were always just his "best friend".

You thought you could be happy like that, you truly did. You thought you could be content loving him from the sidelines, even if it was suffocating knowing he would never love you back. You thought you'd be okay.

Until you coughed up those flower petals.

You remember the exact day you first discovered you had Hanahaki Disease, too.

It'd been a cloudless night, the first one in a few days. Maybe weeks. Either way, for once Gotham was not shrouded by storm clouds. It was at most, calm. Peaceful. But perhaps that in of itself should have been an omen.

Because Gotham was never peaceful.

You don't remember exactly what was said that night, but you just remember how you'd started coughing the moment Jason was distracted. Had you two been on a stakeout that night? You were almost sure that you were.

You remember so vividly clutching those flower petals in your hands, staring at them before crushing them in your palm, letting them drift in the wind when Jason asks you if you were alright.

And now here you were, months later. Over time Jason would give you suspicious looks when you'd tried to hide your coughing fits, would always double check if you were really okay. But you always said you were.

Until today.

You and Jason are doing the last of your stakeout mission, gathering the last tiniest bits of intel to feed to the others so that way they could take out this newly fledged gang from right under their nose. It's cold, but that's fine. Gotham is always cold, especially in the autumn months.

"How much longer are we supposed to be out here for?"

You pause to think for a minute as your eyes scan the outside of the warehouse the gang had turned into their main base of operations. Taking in every detail, hoping it’d help piece together some of their behavior.

“Not that much longe—“ Your words are cut off by that feeling in your throat, hand flying up reflexively as you scramble to remove your mask just in time to violently begin coughing into the palm of your hand.

You hunch into yourself as you cough, your free hand clutching your mask desperately so you could put it back on at a moments notice. Next to you, Jason is concerned. Behind the red helmet he wears his face is a mixture of concern.

It takes awhile for you to stop coughing. The raw creeping pain that fills your throat and makes your lungs burn is something you’ve grown used to.

You pull your hand away when you feel that same familiar feeling of blood in your hands, wet and hot as it pairs with your spit and the flowers. You try to hide it from Jason, you really do. You try to clench your fist and let it drop to your side.

But Jason is faster. He’s got your hand snagged by the wrist the moment it drops. And he pries your hand open while he remains quiet. And when he sees the flowers and blood in your hands he knows he should’ve done so sooner.

You’d been hiding behind the coughing fits for awhile. Pulling excuses out of the air for each one. Making up reasons for your dwindling strength and stamina, for how your skin got progressively more sickly and pale.

Excuses each and every time that Jason now regrets not looking deeper into.

“Fucking Hanahaki Disease? Seriously?” Jason doesn’t hesitate to say your name in that same tone. He’s angry, but he’s worried. An angry kind of concerned and worried, because for months you’ve probably been suffering alone. And to him, he doesn’t want his best friend to suffer alone. He’s had to do that already, he knows it’s shitty.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it?”

“It’s not important, Red. Doesn’t matter—“

Jason stops you, the grip on your wrist tightening for a moment as he seems to be trying at least a little bit to regulate his emotions.

“Screw that. It’s Jason your talking to right now, not Red Hood.”

“Jason—“

“No! It does fucking matter, okay? Your.. Fuck, you’re my friend, okay? I care about what’s happening to you.”

Your heart aches at the word friend, makes the suffocating feeling in your throat grow tighter. Friend. Of course. That was all you’d ever be to him.

“It’s just a little one sided love, Jason.”

“Little? You call coughing up blood and flowers little? Your dying!”

Your face scrunches up as you begin sputtering again, coughing as more specks of blood fly past your lips.

“If it’s one sided, you need to get the surgery. It’s the only option.”

Immediately your shaking your head, trying to refuse, but Jason’s already picking you up. He’s already died once, brought back by chance because of the Lazarus Pit. He’s not gonna have you die, because you matter to him.

He ignores your protesting pleas as you eventually fall unconscious from the lack of air you are able to get into your lungs because of the flowers growing there.

And Jason brings you to Gotham General.

But when you awaken from that lifesaving surgery, preventing you from dying on the operating table as you were seconds from death, Jason noticed your different with him.

He can see just how different you look at him. You aren’t the same you that he remembers growing up with. The look in your eyes is different, as is your smile.

You aren’t quite as warm, not quite that same ball of sunshine with him as you used to be. At first he thinks it’s because your mad at him for bringing you to the hospital against your wishes, but..

Even when months pass and you still don’t get that same energy you used to back is when he understands. It hits him when your suddenly looking at someone else the way you used to look at him and it hits him hard, like a smack to the face.

Oh. He thinks. He was the one you loved.

And that regret hits Jason hard, especially when he coughs up flower petals of his own.

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

[hellaarknight]

Weak

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Genre: angst. Warnings: swearing

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

" You're not going to participate in the battle Y/N and this is final."

Kisuke raised his voice slightly. Even though in the original plan you were included, he couldn't allow himself to continue with it.

" Kisuke, what the fuck? This is not what we agreed on! How do you expect to face it without me? You're literally putting everyone's lives at risk just because I've got some injuries."

Urahara could feel the frustration growing in your voice. The last thing he wanted now was to fight with you on the issue, but for the first time in a long while he was scared for your safety. If his intuition was on point, as usual, and Aizen was plotting to use you in any way in the upcoming fight, he just couldn't risk it.

" Things have changed. Your little banter with Aizen made me change the plan. My decision will not waiver."

For once Urahara wanted to subdue your fiery attitude, he hoped you'd understand that he's too afraid for your safety. He usually does have concerns, but now that you're injured, you are weak. Or at least too weak to be able to help Ichigo and company. And the mere possibility of you becoming a paw in Aizen's plan scared him.

"Oh my gosh, you can't be serious! Just because of a few stitches I now have you can't decide to put me on standby. I'm not the young frail and weak girl I once was and you know that better than anyone."

Kisuke took a look at your right arm stitches. The sight alone straightened his decision, he could not let you head into battle like this. He had to protect you, even if that meant to hurt your feelings and pride.

" Please... Don't push it further. Just this once, I'm asking you to stay out of it just this once." His tone changed from demanding to almost begging.

" No Kisuke, because you're not giving me any reasonable argument for me to stay out and endanger everyone else."

" You're weak and for starters you'd be the one keeping us back by making everyone and especially me worry about you!"

There it was, out of his mouth, the words he promised he would never say to you ever again. "Weak". "A burden". Kisuke didn't want to meet your eyes, he couldn't. He didn't want to see the damage his words have done. The room was silent, the atmosphere shifting from tension to nothing. Kisuke got up, in a mere attempt to come and hug you, a way to do some damage control. He got to take one step and suddenly he was pushed on his knees by an immense spiritual power. With great effort, he raised his head from the ground to see your enraged expression and your extended hand with which you controlled your reiatsu to apply the pressure only on him, one of your special abilities as a shinigami.

"I AM WEAK???"

Feelings of betrayal, rage, sadness, disappointment, Kisuke could feel them all in your voice. He could not speak nor breath, the spiritual pressure you exude was beyond everything he imagined you were capable of.

" Urahara answear my damned question! I AM WEAK?"

He tried to open his mouth but only a choking sound came out. It felt like his bones were crushing and he was suffocating. Fascinating, you trained so much to be able to weaponize your own spiritual power to apply it only in certain points inside his body. His eyes widened when the stitches of your arm ripped off and blood started running down your arm. The door of the room slides open with Ichigo, Rukya and Yoruichi barging in slightly alarmed. The sight was one of a kind.

" Sensei what happened? We felt a sudden raise in Y/n's reiatsu and...

You left down your arm restraining the release of power back to normal. Urahara fell face down, coughing hard as he tried to bring inside his lungs some oxygen.

" What's happ..." Rukya's voice got interrupted by yours.

"Fine, Kisuke Urahara! Have it your way. I'm out! I'm out of this mission! But since I'm so damned weak and you consider that you have to babysit me on the battlefield I'm out for good! I'm out of y'all's fucking lives!"

Urahara watched you turn on your feet and walk out. A very confused Ichigo helped him get up. A few seconds later there was no trace of your spiritual power. You had concealed yourself.

" What happened?"

" I think I just made a terrible mistake" Was the only thing Urahara Kisuke could say.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

[andraxicated]

Intimacy in all its forms

Pairings: ayato, heizou, albedo, kaeya, childe, scaramouche x f! reader

tags: fluff | highschool au! (currently reading seasons of blossom and i'm not okay)

a/n: this will probably be one of my last writings here before i'm once again swept up in school. this will be 3 parts with other characs!

taken from prompts here

pt. 2

Ayato | The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company.

—he was oh so capable. everyone admired and trusted him, he was all smiles to them and they'd worship the ground he walked on. he was good at everything; academics and athletics, student government positions, and work that seemed too much for one person. he handled it all like some kind of superman and you hated it so much. you hated how ayato promised he'd change his attitude when you're dating and he broke it—seeing him still handling paperwork when the sun was starting to set and the school was about to be empty.

"are you done?" you ask, leaning against the door to be met with his sorry eyes and words. "sorry (y/n), i'm about to be finished soon, you can go now if you want." what kind of question was that? of course, you'd stay with him.

you pull out a nearby chair and sat next to him, leaning closer and resting your head on his shoulder. "I can't have my afternoon nap because of you" you mutter before closing your eyes, hearing his hushed apologies that you inwardly groan to. and when you wake up, both of you go together in the darkened hallways hand-in-hand, passing by empty classrooms that you refuse to look at and ayato chuckles while glancing at you.

he doesn't call for a car ride when he's staying late, in fear of inconveniencing the family drivers but you tell him he's the only one who'd be inconvenienced commuting at a rush hour.

"how could I be inconvenienced when you're with me?" he says before yawning, a sign that he was about to succumb to exhaustion, and soon you feel a weight on your shoulder to see his blue hair nuzzling your face. ayato fell asleep on your shoulder as you held his hand, smoothing his knuckles over.

it was far from an uncomfortable silence. to have him resting on your shoulder, in your company, laying his guard down, and being vulnerable around you is enough to make your heart melt. you remember feeling something press against your head earlier when you were asleep on his shoulder, it felt like a kiss. and you know you'd always return the favor so you lean down a bit and kiss the top of his head, careful not to disturb him in this short slumber.

"take it easy sometimes, will you?" you whisper.

Heizou | The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.”

—you learned from the very start that heizou was a deductive person. it's like he knew everything as he was very quick to pick up on things. he even notices random stuff that you don't even know about. and all these little things he points out pile up and makes your heart flutter. you seriously think you're catching feelings and you hope this was one thing heizou won't know.

"you have something on your mind? you've been zoning out since earlier like your soul had flown out." he asks and you brush it off by saying you're just stressed from doing schoolwork. heizou won't pry if you don't want to tell him so instead...he's going to be the one to tell you something that's been weighing heavily on his mind.

it was just a peaceful day hanging out with him until he blurts out a confession out of the blue. "I like you (y/n)" he says and you're staring at him unbelievably with your eyes wide and mouth parted. he continues, "and I know that you like me too...at least from what I observed. turn me down if I'm wrong-"

"wait. how did you know that?" you cut him off. and you weren't even obvious with your crush from what you think. does he really know you that well to let you face your feelings for him?

"because i know you"

it had been bold of him to take that leap of faith to you. because there was that slight chance that he was just assuming and you only saw him as a friend. but his risk paid off knowing you all these years, staying by your side, and watching you fall for other people. for the first time, he chose to trust his guts rather than his mind. and it was rewarding to see you smile and hear your answer to his confession.

"once again you're right. i like you too, heizou"

Albedo | The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up

—your eyes flutter open and the first thing you see is long lashes and striking tufts of blonde hair. you're curled up against the bed, a safe distance from this warm body and you haven't processed the information yet that your "classmate" is still here and you slept in the same bed together.

your parents are coming home today by the way.

you mutter a curse, soon realizing that the wet streets have dried and albedo is still here. oh my god. albedo! you wanted to scream but he looked so peaceful sleeping, you thought it would be a crime to wake him. but from your stirring and panic, you stop for a bit just to see his eyes flutter open, staring at the ceiling for a moment, revealing a lovely color of teal that soon moved to stare at you.

"good morning" he groggily greets and you say it back meekly. oh you've been a bad bad girl. when your parents are away from vacation, you invited your boyfriend to your house for a movie and cuddles since it was rainy season. turns out, you lead him to the bed for a continued cuddle session until you fell asleep.

you both sit up at the same time and you carefully watch what he does next. albedo looks at you as you flinch in surprise. "I should go now, you said your parents are coming back today, right?" you nod and he moves to kiss your forehead, feeling the warmth of his soft lips that closed your eyes. "I should've said no but unfortunately, I realized I couldn't resist you. I'm dating a bad influence." albedo says, playing with your fingers as you shake your head while giggling.

"let's have breakfast together first. then you can go after that, we have plenty of time." you whisper, kissing his cheek before going out of your room, feeling flushed and giddy from this intimate secret.

Kaeya | The intimacy of someone saying "Text me when you're home safe."

—"you don't have to do this", you shake your head looking up at him yet he gives you an easy smile in return. "this is the least I could do as your suitor." he insisted to wait with you at the stop until your transportation arrives. kaeya always made you feel safe and assured, he was constantly looking out for you. and before you go, he held your arm and said "Text me when you're home safe." so when you arrive, you let down your bag and pull out your phone to text kaeya.

"I'm home now! how about you?" you waited for a few minutes, growing worried until you see him typing a message that read, "home too. it's raining these days and it's going to be hard to commute. do you want me to give you a ride home starting tomorrow?"

you type in, feeling embarrassed yet he beat you to it saying "it's only for the rainy days. i hate seeing you squeezing against other commuters too."

yet he didn't say you'd see his brother too in the front seat with kaeya enthusiastically tapping the passenger seat at the back for you to sit in. it was very awkward in the car, proceeding to kaeya's smooth words that his brother lets out a groan every few minutes or so. you know it was his way of letting his brother know that he actually has a girl with him.

"hi can you please drop me off just around the corner? it will be fine thank you." you spoke to the driver with a smile and kaeya was confused as to why you wanted to be dropped off there.

"are you hiding something from me? a secret boyfriend coming over?" he teases yet he was quite nervous for the reason. you laugh it off, pushing him playfully before easing his worries.

"my parents still don't know about you, right? let's avoid any confrontations for now, I just don't want to be teased by my family that's all." you held his hand, giving it a little squeeze to see him break out in a small smile. "i'm not hiding something i swear! i'm serious about you. i like you kaeya!" if someone, even your neighbors saw this sleek black car parking in front and you coming out of it, it will certainly be the topic of gossip. you just wanted to avoid that.

"i know. i like you too. but was that your answer—" "ehem, (y/n) here we are. stay safe." diluc cuts him off with a cough, announcing your location and you pull away much to kaeya's dismay. you give him your brightest smile before shyly waving, thanking the brothers and the driver then got out of the car, walking to your house, knowing they're still there parked and watching you go in.

kaeya's phone beeps, a notification of your message saying, "I'm home! Thank you for the ride♡"

Childe | The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting

—a piece of paper had found itself bouncing on your desk, all crumpled and white. you open it, not taking a glance at whoever behind you had thrown that but as soon as you open it you already know who it came from.

it was very evident from the handwriting, nice and clean but in terms of penmanship against other people you know, this person was on the middle tier. it was not something that gets someone to say "wow, your handwriting's good!" yet you loved seeing it anyway.

and you know he could see the corner of your lips rise from his view, it made him mirror the grin you so subtly hide in fear of being called out. you take a glance at the teacher before writing on the piece of paper.

replying to the message written, "Let's have lunch together :(( I miss you"

you write in, "Okay! And I missed you too even though we literally talked 10 minutes ago", you crumpled it back and threw the paper without looking, hoping ajax could somehow catch it.

have some faith in your boyfriend, would you? he's not part of the athletes if he's not that agile at catching. he secretly opens it and fails to hold back his chuckle that drew question marks above everybody's heads.

Scaramouche | The intimacy of answering the phone "Hey you."

—the phone rang, the door locked, and his heart fast as he was nervous about talking to you. pacing around, running a scenario of what would happen once you answered the phone.

scaramouche doesn't wait yet he finds himself wishing you'd pick up. but ultimately the tone ended without being answered and he was left with his screen showing a failed call.

he sighed, wanting to retire for the night until his phone rang once again with your name on it. he dives onto the bed to get ahold of the device and picks it up, speaking first as he always gets the first word.

"hey you"

"What's up?" he hated your dry reply. "What took you so long to pick up?" he wanted to know what kept you busy, didn't he tell you to always answer your phone when he calls?

"I took a shower and cleaned myself up. I'm literally in a towel. Why did you call?"

he didn't mean to do it but he immediately created a mental image of you freshly out of the shower with your hair wet and wearing a towel. the tip of his ears turned hot and he struggled to speak until you laughed over the phone and reminded him of what he was to you.

"hey boyfriend. you shouldn't be thinking of anything funny—"

"I wasn't!" he acted like a provoked cat as his shout tore that his mom shouted back asking who he was fighting. he was certainly fighting you and your schemes to get him all flustered, it worked though. and scara never changed, even after everything he always had the first word in calls. a "hey you" laced with unconcealed affection and a cheeky grin that follows.

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (1994) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ So you want me to tell you the story of my life. ❜

❛ What were you going to do? Kill me, drink my blood? ❜

❛ I'm flesh and blood, but not human. I haven't been human for 200 years. ❜

❛ I couldn't bear the pain of their loss. I longed to be released from it. ❜

❛ You lack the courage of your convictions. Do it! ❜

❛ Don't be afraid. I'm going to give you the choice l never had. ❜

❛ Your body's dying. Pay no attention. It happens to us all. ❜

❛ No words can describe it. Might as well ask Heaven what it sees. No human can know. ❜

❛ You'll get used to killing. Just forget about that mortal coil. You'll become accustomed to it, all too quickly. ❜

❛ There's nothing in the world now that doesn't hold some...Fascination. ❜

❛ The dark gift is different for each of us. But one thing is true of everyone. We grow stronger as we go along. ❜

❛ That's more like it! Anger! Fury! ❜

❛ Remember: Life without me would be even more unbearable. ❜

❛ You must know something about the meaning of it all. ❜

❛ They know about us. They watch us dine on empty plates and drink from empty glasses. ❜

❛ Forgive me if I have a lingering respect for life. ❜

❛ Perfect! Just burn the place! Burn everything we own! Have us living in a field, like cattle! ❜

❛ What if there is no Hell? Or they don't want us there? Ever think of that? ❜

❛ You're in love with your mortal nature. You resist what can bring you peace. ❜

❛ We're predators, whose all-seeing eyes give them detachment! ❜

❛ It's your coffin, enjoy it. Most of us never get to know what it feels like. ❜

❛ Kill them swiftly if you will, but do it! For do not doubt you are a killer! ❜

❛ My philosopher. My martyr. "Never take a human life.” ❜

❛ Pain is terrible for you. You feel it like no other creature, because you're a vampire. ❜

❛ Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately, and so shall we. ❜

❛ A little child, she was. But also a fierce killer, now capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding. ❜

❛ Remember, never in our home! ❜

❛ Time can pass quickly for mortals when they're happy. With us, it was the same. The years flew by like minutes. ❜

❛ More melancholy nonsense. You grow more like [name] daily! ❜

❛ Do you want me to be a doll forever? ❜

❛ Can't I change like everyone else? ❜

❛ Be glad I made you what you are. You'd be dead now if I hadn't. ❜

❛ You will never grow old. And you will never die. ❜

❛ I thought of all the things I'd done and couldn't undo. And I longed for one second's peace. ❜

❛ He will never let us go. ❜

❛ What is it now? You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me! ❜

❛ Is that supposed to frighten me? ❜

❛ I came to make peace with you. Even though you're the father of lies. I want things to be as they were. ❜

❛ Why do you say such things? ❜

❛ I promise I'll get rid of the bodies. ❜

❛ We forgive each other then? ❜

❛ Good night, sweet prince. May flights of devils wing you to your rest. ❜

❛ Should we burn him? Bury him? What would he have liked? ❜

❛ You've been a very, very naughty little girl. ❜

❛ We deserve your vengeance. ❜

❛ For what could the damned really have to say to the damned? ❜

❛ There are no vampires in Transylvania? No Count Dracula? ❜

❛ I've searched the world for an immortal and this is what I find! ❜

❛ No one will harm you. I won't allow it. ❜

❛ Vampires who pretend to be humans pretending to be vampires. How avant-garde. ❜

❛ Do you know what it means to be loved by Death? ❜

❛ You die when you kill. You feel you deserve to die and you stint on nothing. ❜

❛ But perhaps...this is the only real evil left. ❜

❛ I know nothing of God. Or the Devil. I have never seen a vision, nor learned a secret that would damn or save my soul. ❜

❛ You fear too much. So much you make me fear. ❜

❛ There is but one crime among us vampires here. It is the crime that means death to any vampire: To kill your own kind. ❜

❛ Danger holds you to me. ❜

❛ Love holds you to me. ❜

❛ You would leave me for [name] if he beckoned you. ❜

❛ Is that what I should do? Let you go? ❜

❛ If you want to save her, send her away! ❜

❛ The world changes. We do not. Therein lies the irony that finally kills us. ❜

❛ I need you to make contact with this age. ❜

❛ A vampire with a human soul. An immortal with a mortal's passion. ❜

❛ You are beautiful, my friend. [name] must have wept when he made you. ❜

❛ I knew him. Knew him well enough not to mourn his passing. ❜

❛ Your evil is that you cannot be evil! And I shall suffer for it no longer! ❜

❛ I haven't tears enough for what you've done to me! ❜

❛ Oh, God! I love you still! That's the torment of it! ❜

❛ Who'll care for me, my love, my dark angel, when you are gone? ❜

❛ Bear me no ill will, my love. We are now even. ❜

❛ What has died is the last breath in me that was human. ❜

❛ Your only company will be your screams. ❜

❛ Maybe it was to quench those tears forever that I took such revenge. ❜

❛ You can teach me this? To be without regret? ❜

❛ What if all I have is my suffering? My regret? ❜

❛ I know you regret nothing. You feel nothing. If that's all I have left to learn, I can do that on my own. ❜

❛ You've come home to me then? ❜

❛ I'm a spirit of preternatural flesh. Detached. Unchangeable. Empty. ❜

❛ That's it? No, it can't end like that. ❜

❛ What I wouldn't give to be like you, to have your power, to have seen the things you have seen. ❜

❛ You want a companion. You want a link to the outside world. That's me. Take me.❜

❛ Do you like this? Do you like being food for the immortals? Do you like dying? ❜

❛ I assume I need no introduction. ❜

❛ Still whining. Heard enough? I've had to listen to that for centuries. ❜

[the-mercurial-star-o-vesper]

Going on from Trinimac (He's my favorite god of the Elder Scrolls), the way his story goes is interesting.

So.

In story, we know he gets "consumed" by Boethiah and Boethiah takes his form, and talks to people about Truths, and afterwards, Trinimac is diminished into Malacath and Boethiah goes on to lead the Dunmer.

This? This is interesting for several reasons.

( Now for the sake of me not doing a bunch of research, pulling sources, and trying to parse the esoteric deep lore of TES and the manic writings of Kirkbride, I'm sticking with Morrowind's in-game books, such as "The Changed Ones" and "Variaties of Faith". I'll prolly get to more esoteric stuff at a later post? When the thought hits me. )

They know that its Boethiah Talking and not Trinimac.

Trinimac Worship is not picked up again after this, even though he was the strongest and more favored god.

There has been no attempt to turn Malacath back into Trinimac. As impossible as this sounds, I need to point out the power of belief in the Elder Scrolls and the idea of objects and rituals. If you can Break Akatosh, Time itself, you can reverse what happened to Trinimac (who was changed by considerably less strenuous means). If you can mantle the Dead God Lorkhan (Talos), then you can revive the God Knight. ... Nobody has done this, however.

Orismer are then paraih'd from the Aldmer / Altmer, with no attempts to reunite, renegotiate, or anything--just an immediate marking them as no better than Ogres and Goblins. Worse still, if you read "Pig Children", it seems that a lot of the sentience on Tamerial don't like orcs.

Trinimac's story, by his own former people, the Old / High Elves, is reduced to propoganda made against Dunmer worship. And this, is coming from the same peoples who want to return to pre-dawn and despise Lorkhan. You'd think that they'd keep Trinimac worship for that reason, if nothing else.

Boethiah is the deceiver of nations, they're one of the worst daedra to run into given their ruthless bloodthirsty nature, and they're attached to conspiracy and deceit.

... So if they knew it was Boethiah, why listen? Why trust it?

Especially if you know that this Daedric Prince, anathema of Auri-el and Aedra, is prancing around in your most favorite of gods? I'm pretty certain playing puppet with someone else's body is a violation worthy of raising alarm.

There's only one reasonable answer:

It wasn't Boethiah.

Something to note about the Aedra of the Elder Scrolls. They're bound to interpretation. The closest we're gonna get to pre-dawn et'Ada (What everyone was before the creation of Mundus and Nirn, so Before the "dawn") are certain Daedra.

To take example.

Kyne of the Nords, and Kynareth of the Imperials, are of the same "Oversoul" or rather, the same Aedra, but are not the same God. In fact, Kynareth was created / born from Cyrodiilic interpretations of Kyne. Kyne and Kynareth are fully capable of meeting each other as unique individuals, inspite technically being the same person, and potentially, even being against one another.

( Find any Auri-el vs Akatosh argument. Auriel doesn't like Nirn or mortality or probably humans, but Akatosh likes the place and doesn't like anyone fucking with it or the mortals. )

Collective belief will create Gods, provided there's an Aedra niche for them to come from.

( Probably the price of sacrificing bits of yourself to create things, plays into now only having power if someone can perceive you. )

( It also kinda brings in the idea that a Daedra can, in fact, become an Aedra if they are willing to sacrifice parts of themselves to expand the Mundus. Gotta remember that most of them are all Et'Ada, they are fully capable of performing those feats. Daedra and Aedra are just outdated perspectives by Aldmer. )

Anyway.

Why isn't it Boethiah.

Because, following how Aedra work? Boethiah was the Velothi Aspect of Trinimac. But because they were Aldmer undergoing a schism, it wasn't so cleanly defined as Kyne and Kynareth or Stuhn and Stendarr.

The God tore himself, under the schism of multiple interpretations.

And because each interpretation was, in of itself, a live God, and because most of those interpretations didn't fit with the greater popularity...

... Suddenly, your most Favorite God pops up into his Temple and talks about how He was Wrong. Speaks about what the Mundus is really meant to be, and how to work it.

And with that? Because that's a God talking, that's THE God talking, things he says must be true...

That's when you get the massive underlying cultural shift.

Trinimac is branded an oathbreaker, a liar, a hypocrite, and against his own aspect, by the very Aldmeri populace, and the result is that the gods schisms so badly that it divorces itself from the Mundus, and falls to pieces.

Those who still believed in him after this, were changed to Orcs, and were branded just as pariah as their god. And that's how you got Malacath, the only surviving piece and not even that good of one.

Those who believed his new truth, that part walked away as Boethiah, and lead Veloth, and the newly changed Chimer. And in fact, that's where the idea that Boethiah wore him came from, because that was the aspect that survived to keep speaking the new truths.

( There are other surviving fragments, but I'll get into them at a later time. Trinimac didn't completely succeeded in killing his Men-Counterpart )

And though Trinimac is still acknowledged as champion of Auriel, there are no more new worshipers. The truths he spoke were too terrible to return to his old worship. Because why worship what you know are lies?

Of course, as time rode on, Malacath and Boethiah were further and further estranged from their old roots. Boethiah doesn't lead peoples anymore, and Malacath sticks to his strongholds over reigning vengence against people (let alone the Altmer or Dunmer).

But its funny how a certain point of view can make the difference.

ADDENDUM:

And what of Veloth? Well, a dude can't just randomly get visions out of the ether and decide to leave home to go into the wilderness for no reason. Visions, here, are granted by gods.

This schism, it started somewhere. While it ended in the fragmentation of a god...

... It might just have been started by that very god.

There is no greater lie than the lies we tell ourselves, when we know we've done something horrible, to ourselves and to others.

That perhaps, under orders and belief, in a times of war and betrayal, a knight-general over armies killed the shieldbrother of the enemy king, and then tore the heart from that king.

[ down in front of his army and reached in with more than hands to take his Heart ]

Perhaps it was ordered by another king. Perhaps it was justice for lives now forever lost in creation as earth bones. Perhaps it was simply because so he could prove he Could.

[ As their aspects began to die off, many of the et'Ada vanished completely ]

[ shook his head at this, for he was akin to Tsun and did not care much for logic-talk as much as he did only for his own standing ]

And then he was left behind by the new king.

In such grief, its easy to ask... Why. He did everything right. He got Justice, he proved He could. He did everything right, so why?

[ Everything is spoiled, for now, and for all time, and the most we can do is teach the Elven Races to suffer nobly, with dignity, and chastise ourselves for our folly, and avenge ourselves upon Shezarr and his allies ]

Gods aren't meant to feel grief. Perhaps he went a-searching.

Perhaps he consorted with Daedra. Found the xarxes, and read direction. Looked upon Dawn and Dusk, and found beauty. Found the Web, saw the secrets.

( After all, it was murder, wasn't it? When you cut out the heart of a god and kill him perma-dead, leaving only his ghost, that is murder. That is consorting with Mephala. )

[ Know that battle is a blessing. Know that death is an eventuality. Know that you are dust in the eyes of-- ]

Found the Cycle, and he was apart of it. Revenge is always a Cycle. And when your first remembered act is murder, Death becomes your domain.

[ I am alive because that one is dead. I exist because I have the will to do so. And I shall remain as long as there are signs of my handwork, such as the blood dripping from this blade. ]

Perhaps he found himself, in the man he killed to find the now dead king. For after all, if death was his domain, surely he would know where souls go--

[ Died defending Shor from foreign gods ]

-- and merely found himself.

[ fell at sunrise and became replaced by mirrors ]

That perhaps One King over the Other was merely a perspective.

[ would hate the same-twin on the other end of the aurbrilical cord ]

[ I AM NOT ]

Death is merely finding the End, and at the end of it all, was a Tower, and he had the Key.

[ is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other ]

and you don't become sheild-thane god for another god for no one, and not for no reason.

[ the ashen-amalgamation of his sons that had survived ]

When your various dream selves are bound by interpretation, all this means is waiting for someone to tell the knowledge to. Someone who has just the right belief and understanding, that you can reach.

Especially you cannot reach the wandering, because you felled the self that could have talked to them.

[ and swore blood vengeance on the heirs of Auriel for all time ]

That perhaps this all started, because of the grief and guilt of the son who stole his fathers' lives.

[ then ascended to heaven in full observance of his followers so that they might learn the steps needed to escape the mortal plane ]

[ withdrew from the creation of the world at the last second, though it cost him dearly ]

[ dooming him to the underworld ]

[ He was undone ]

And for those who are trapped--

[ cast down their jailer king ]

--but have a chance to escape.

[ the rules of Psijic Endeavor ]

... And he just needed the right ear.

( Sorry for the trippiness. But I do so like writing something that looks like it could've walked right outta "V for Vendetta". Lots o quotes from lots o places. )

[holdmytesseract]

Capturing the Moment

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki & Ella feat. Y/N

Summary: Loki and Ella are posing together for a painting.

Warnings: none? fluff!

Word Count: 1,1k

a/n: I couldn't help myself. 😅🥰 This lil' story is based on this post/picture. ☺️ I asked @cookie-doughandwaffles and they gave me the permission. ☺️

Baby Fever Crew: Tagging y'all in the comments! 😊💚

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"And you are sure this is going to work out, babe?" You asked your husband, while gently bouncing baby Ella on your arm. "I mean... We hardly made it work now. Only because we all tried to entertain her." Loki smiled, nodding confidently. "Oh, I am absolutely sure, my love. I am more than capable of keeping our daughter entertained during the process." You shrugged your shoulders, "If you say so..." and handed the little girl over to her dad - which she was visibly happy about; acknowledging her delight with a happy squeal, bright smile and kicking feet. Loki chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss on Ella's chubby cheek. "You want to know why, my queen?" "Why?" "Because our princess is - like you so often point out, a daddy's girl." He winked, and you nodded in agreement. "Hmm, yeah, that is a valid point..."

You, Loki and Ella were currently on a small holiday on Asgard, due to the fact that it was again time for new paintings of the royal family. Especially since both the princes had become fathers. The last time there were royal family paintings made, was after the brothers had been getting married - which was already a little while ago, and therefore were Ella and Eisa missing on the recent paintings and that needed to be changed. So, the royal painter was appointed and a trip to Asgard planned.

Meanwhile were all the 'necessary' paintings done, but Loki wished to have one just with him and Ella - to which the painter happily agreed. Only you had a few doubts, since it took all members of the family to entertain Ella and Eisa, in order to prevent them from moving around so much. Now Loki wanted to face this task alone - and he was very confident about it, so who were you to stop him?

"Alright, Lokes, try it. If you need help with her, just call for me." Loki chuckled softly, "I will keep it in my mind." and leaned down to kiss you. Then he redirected his attention to Ella. "Now let us go, princess, huh?" The little girl cooed, was at the moment fixated on the golden lapels of his uniform; her little hands gripping on it. You nodded, smiling, "Have fun - and show me how the painting turned out." and adjusted the beautiful flower crown on your daughter's head. "Of course, my love." Your husband kissed you a second time, before he turned on his heels, in order to leave your shared chambers.

You watched them leave, admiring how freaking good he looked in the very noble outfit the royal tailor had custom-built for this day. It was all about showing colours, who belonged to whom; but also representing the crown and the appearance as one big, happy family. Therefore, Loki, you and Ella were dressed in green - of course. The 'uniform', which the tailor had sewn for Loki fit him like a glove, was utterly perfect and made him look even more irresistible and handsome.

And Ella? Ella looked so sweet in her green dress, flower crown and flower garland, that you shortly feared you'd get diabetes. To match their look, you wore a beautiful, princess dress. You had giggled like madly, seeing yourself in the mirror and looking like you had just stepped out of a Disney princess movie. Yes, you loved those paintings days...

Loki and Ella posed for the painter once again; who had already started his good work. At first, it was no problem for the little girl to be just held by her dad, but with time, she got fussy and quite antsy. The god had of course a lot of tricks up his sleeve. Speaking to her from time to time, for example, or letting her play with his long raven curls - which got a bit painful for him at some point. Tickling her or gently bouncing her helped as well, just like showing her small magic tricks. Letting daisies grow from his palm or butterflies and tiny fireworks to fly. Ella was fascinated, of course, but at one point she even lost the interest in her father's seidr; causing Loki to play the Joker card: Telling her a story...

"Once upon a time, there lived a sweet, little princess on a realm far away, called Asgard. Her hair was black like the wings of a raven. Her cheeks as rosy as the skin of an apple, and her eyes so blue like the deepest depths of the ocean." Loki started, smiling down at his daughter, who was looking at him with big eyes. She loved his voice, without a doubt. The painter just smiled at the pair; heart melting.

"The little princess was just a baby, yes, barely a few months old, but she was already the shining star of the royal family. She was so, so loved. By the people, her grandparents, uncles, aunts - yes, by everybody!" Loki underlined his words by tickling Ella's tummy, causing a little giggle-like sound to bubble from her mouth. She was, of course too small to understand what her daddy was telling her, but all she needed was just his voice anyways.

Loki couldn't help but to chuckle as well, before he continued his story. "But she was most loved by her parents. They loved her more than life itself. Can you imagine that, sweet girl?" Ella just looked at him. Fascinated, staring, utterly focused - and with a bit of drool running down the corner of her mouth. "Yes, it is true! They loved her more than life itself. She was everything they ever wanted and dreamed of. Well, truth be told, the king at first not. He was not very fond of children; his heart bitter and cold. But then a little angel awakened his heart, made him see - and suddenly a child was what he desired. His beautiful queen gifted him a little princess not much later and his glorious purpose was to be the best father possible. If his efforts will come to fruition, only time can tell..."

Once Loki finished his story, his eyes travelled down to Ella - and with a smile, he noticed that the little girl had fallen asleep. Her little cheek was squashed against his chest; hand holding onto his finger. "Well..." The god mumbled. "Seems like my plan was a bit too successful..." The painter shook his head, smiling softly. "It's not a problem, your highness. I am finished anyways. If you wish, you can have a look at the painting." Loki nodded, "Of course. I'd like to see it." and adjusted the baby girl in his arms, so that she was able to sleep in a more comfortable position. Loki's oceanic blue eyes met the canvas, where he and Ella were painted on. "Is it to your liking, my prince?" Smiling brightly, he studied the art; nodding. "It is perfect."

[everythingispirates]

I *do* wanna ask you dmtnt questions so bad please tell me everything about how you would make it a good movie

like in general? I think it should have leaned more into the horror vibes they were gunning for in the trailer like at the very least make an attempt to have it stick out somewhat against the other movies. you could even have it end on them failing to get the trident or whatever if you wanna go for a darker tone like yeah it would render everything kind of pointless but it'd at least be interesting + you could hammer in that theme of destiny that's present in awe wrt will like he is doomed to be on that ship that will never change etc. have also said this before but will should have gotten to go full monster I think ideally at the beginning of the movie when henry takes his dive or whatever he should have fully died and will taking him back to shore should have counted as a breach of contract so he gets to be fish now. that could give henry a lot more angst as well like if he's not just trying to find the trident but also on some level like. running away from home so he won't have to face elizabeth after he basically caused will to get extra cursed. I also think they could have done a lot more with carina than just smartgirl like me personally I like to characterise her as kind of ruthless like not necessarily actively causing harm but willing to step over a lot of ppl to get what she wants. like she's grown up completely isolated and ostracised to me it would make sense if she's not great with people. could also have some tension between her and henry with carina being abandoned and henry just sort of throwing his perfectly good family away (at least in carina's eyes). as for jack, disregarding the fucking elephant in the room, in terms of scripting you could really hammer home the idea that he's totally given up like on life on everything etc. like him giving away the compass is fucking stupid but if you play it less as just plot go forward and more as jack letting go of the thing that's always been his main tool for getting what he wants, showing his complete loss of drive and whatever you could at least get something out of that plotline. could also get some dark comedy out of him being like. not actively suicidal but kind of just ready to die. if you played your cards right you could point to how he knows the afterlife is in more capable hands with will to the reason why, beyond him just being miserable on land. also like I said dark comedy you could have him literally doing gallows humour etc

n ee way these are just like ideas from my twisted mind tbh I also think for dmtnt to truly work you'd have to have laid better groundwork for it with ost like I think a cool thing to do in general would be to have like. the og trilogy and the new era of potc be really distinct thematically like og trilogy focuses a lot on class and ost has this wonderful potential core of religious struggles and like in a perfect world we'd have some thematic throughline to dmtnt but alas we live on hell planet so we have fucking. that instead 👍

[cornyonmains]

Just got done watching episode 6 of 4 Minutes. At this point I'm almost certain they do the weird music over Bible's NC scenes because they might be too horny otherwise.

Anyways, I've been thinking about the curse the woman Great hit with her car bought. Initially, I thought she was paying for an assassin using selling spells and charms as a front or means of embezzling the money. But if that shit actually worked, and it's what's allowing Great to fiddle with the timelines, then we have to wonder who she's trying to separate from her loved ones with this.

All signs point to this being Great's father. I keep getting stuck on the lyrics they mentioned in an interview, with one of them being something along the lines of giving up everything to be with someone.

In the timeline Great's creating, his mother has (presumably) died. Great's a smitten 21 year old, still kind of a kid, being spoon fed a do-over with the Barbie Dream Doctor Boyfriend Edition that is Tyme, and his father is a homophobic footnote in his subconscious.

Korn has been given a romantic ultimatum by Fasai that's not likely to end well. Korn was able to tolerate her because he had Tonkla to go to to reclaim a sense of agency and control with. All the characters around Great's father are either being killed, in the process of dying, or in the process of events that could see them choosing their own paths over one provided by his dirty money.

The woman also specifically told Great that he would have a bright future, and this is one of those situations where I wish I understood Thai because I feel like there's some stuff that was likely baked into her wording that got lost in translation.

This episode also once again proved Sammon is the real queen on the scene in the BL writing community. I was so convinced the Great we were seeing in the new timeline was reflective of the one in the old timeline. But no, Great was a coward, a spoiled brat, completely removed from a world of consequences, an accomplice to murder, and so fraught with Daddy issues the idea of getting caught on 4K letting time hit it like a 747 filled him with childish glee. And Tyme was into that. These two definitely deserve each other, and would definitely have me considering an OnlyFans subscription. The Great we were seeing in the new timeline was a Great reacting to his subconscious trauma of all his actions catching up to him.

In summation, I have no idea what's going on, but I deeply hope that getting shot does not deter either of them from starting an OnlyFans if Tyme's career as a surgeon doesn't work out. Also, I still have no solid theories as to who Tonkla is killing that field. My theories are Title, Korn, or Win. Yeah, that's right, I finally remembered Win's name and am not calling him lanky cop anymore. I am capable of positive change on occasion. If some of you little 20 year old shits had been smoking weed since the tail end of the Clinton administration you'd have memory problems too.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Dragon's Fire - Ch. 1

Aemond Targaryen X Fem!Reader A/n: I'm in my writing-for-whatever-show-i'm-currently-watching era and I'm not apologizing. let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! WC: 2018 Warnings: graphic descriptions of wounds; non-canon

You squatted next to the stream, exhaling into your cupped palms and rubbing your hands together to try and cajole some dexterity back into your fingers. The nights were getting colder, you noted as your breath turned to steam in the early morning air. What was it the Starks always said? Winter was coming. You shivered, whether for the cold or for the chill of foreboding that raced along your spine you weren’t entirely sure. 

You dug around in your satchel for the small hammer you used to break up the thin screen of ice that had formed along the surface of the stream. Having located it, you thwunked once, twice, three times until the tool cracked the ice. The gurgling water beneath was clear and unbelievably cold, the sensation digging bone-deep as you dipped your hands into the running water. You splashed a few handfuls across your face to invigorate you, shaking off the fog of sleep in the process. Gasping from the shock, you busied yourself with dunking your waterskin and filling the two buckets you used each day for cleaning and cooking. 

Your morning routine hadn’t changed in the four years since you’d come to Sea Dragon Point from King’s Landing. The hardships you’d endured in this cold, foreign land had at first burdened you to the point of almost breaking you. In your past life as an understudy with the dragonkeepers, you’d never had to concern yourself with such trivial tasks like fetching your own water. You had fled King’s Landing without thinking through the consequences of scratching a living out of the woods and the rocks and the soil. The only consequence that had been on your mind was your own execution, a threat that had spurred your flight from the capital city to this desolate, forgotten place. When you’d first come to Sea Dragon Point, you’d had a few supplies still from the larders and the pantries of King’s Landing. After you’d eaten through those, you’d found yourself on the brink of starvation and coming to terms with the fact that you knew nothing about how to survive on your own. Necessity had taken over after a few weeks, however, and you’d begun doing what needed to be done. And here you were, four years later, with little in the way of material possessions to show for your years of hard work, but immeasurably more capable and knowledgeable about life outside of the Red Keep than you’d ever dreamed possible.

After filling your buckets and the waterskin, you checked the fishing lines you’d set the night before. Of the five you had, only two had snared prey, and only one was worth keeping. You tossed the juvenile freshwater rock lobster back into the frigid stream, its shell too soft and its meat too sparse to make it worthwhile. The hefty river trout that your other trap had snared, however, would make for a fine meal, and maybe you’d have enough leftover to salt into strips of jerky. You spiked the fish quickly, not wanting it to suffer, before beginning to scale and gut it on the riverbank. The cold water would clean the fish nicely, you knew. 

You were so intent on your task that you almost missed the telltale snap of a twig behind you. Almost. Unsheathing the dragonglass dagger you kept tucked into your belt at all times, you turned quickly and rose from your crouch to full height with the blade extended in front of you in the direction of the noise. The sight before you stole the breath from your lungs. 

Leaned against a tree a few hundred yards from you was a ghost from your past. Glossy silver hair, pale skin, a sharp proud jawline, and a black patch over one eye. Aemond. 

The dagger in front of you dropped to the frostbitten ground as your hands flew to your mouth in shock. 

“Aemond!” Your mind was frozen somewhere between running to him and cursing his name, so you stayed unnaturally still, staring at him in disbelief. He chuckled at the note of terror? relief? adoration? in your voice, but immediately winced and doubled over. You hadn’t noticed before, but suddenly the details of the man before you came into focus. He was paler than usual - if such a thing were possible for a Targaryen - and he was grabbing at the bark of the tree for support, his other arm wrapped tightly against his gut as if holding himself together. Thick dollops of blood were dripping from his hand and forearm, and the single eye he still had was glassy with pain. 

Moments before he toppled forward, you rushed to him, closing the space between you two and catching him with your body. He was taller than the last time you’d seen him, and more solid. You grunted with the effort of keeping him upright as his legs turned to liquid underneath him. 

“You’re hurt,” you noted as if admonishing him. He chuckled again. 

“Ever the astute observer,” he quipped weakly. Unable to hold him standing any longer, you tried your best to twist his body until his spine was against the trunk of the pine tree that he’d been clinging to moments before, easing him down into a sitting position. There were a thousand questions rattling around your mind like bees - how did he find you? how long had he known where you were? what had happened to him? how did he get here? why had he come? who else knew you were here? - but you couldn’t get them to be silent long enough to grab at one and force it out of your mouth. For the second time, you felt yourself frozen to the spot, your chest heaving with exertion and adrenaline. 

A few moments passed before he managed to fix you with a piercing stare despite a blood loss-induced fog of delirium. “I had rather hoped you’d help me,” he rasped, motioning meaningfully to his bloodied arm with his eyes. You shook your head as if in a daze, your mouth opening without sound coming out. Why? How? Who? 

“Please, y/n,” he added effortfully after watching you gasp futilely for words. “I’m dying.” The intensity with which he met your gaze knocked something loose inside you. Your heart twisted inside your chest as you quickly looked at his wounds. The arm he was favoring had a large gash running down the length of his forearm, and he was bleeding freely from it. The edges of the wound were burned and jagged, like the flesh had been torn rather than cut. You recognized the wound instantly as a dragon’s claw mark. Having seen so many of those wounds yourself as a dragonkeeper, you’d never forget it. 

You reached for Aemond’s wounded arm, careful not to disturb the wound itself. He winced and bit down hard on his lip to stifle a groan of pain as he carefully extended his arm towards you. You moved aside the torn shreds of his leather bracer, still laced at the elbow, to get a closer look at the wound. The amount of blood he was losing suggested that the claw must have nicked an artery. He’d need stitches and cauterization, after cleaning the wound thoroughly. With any luck, Aemond might escape a deadly fever with the right herbs. You cursed your circumstances that you were here, hundreds of miles from the well-trained healers of the Red Keep, although Winterfell was only a hard day’s ride. You might be able to buy whatever Aemond needed in Winterfell, although you doubted you’d have access to the same level of supplies that you’d grown accustomed to in King’s Landing. 

“You’re not dying, Aemond,” you soothed, poking tenderly at the flesh of his arm to test the muscles beneath. At worst, you’d have to amputate his arm beneath the elbow. As it was his right hand - his dominant - it would be an adjustment and likely a blow to his ego, but men had lived with far more grievous injuries. You chuckled softly as the surge of panic his words had wrenched out of you began to ebb. 

“It’s not the arm,” he groaned. His voice sounded thick, as if he were talking through cotton. You looked up in confusion. His face had grown paler and there was a sickly, greenish cast to his skin that terrified you. He jutted his chin downward in the direction of his chest. Your eyes followed his gesture, raking over every inch of him, scouring him for signs of injury. 

When you finally saw it, your heart sank into your stomach like a stone in deep water. You hadn’t noticed it initially against the black of his armor. Running up the right side of his torso and cutting across the front of his torso from left hip to right armpit was an enormous, blackened swath of flesh and armor melted together. His skin was almost completely burned off, revealing muscle and sinew and fat underneath, much of that fused with the plates of his black and gold-threaded plackart where it had turned molten against his body. His flesh was twitching, nerves and damaged muscles spasming in pain. With each breath, you saw Aemond fight against a new wave of agony. 

Unable to look anymore, you turned your head away, hot tears spilling from the corners of your eyes. You knew what you’d seen: a death sentence. You fought to steady yourself and to bite down the wave of nausea that climbed up the break of your throat. When you turned back to him, he was staring into you with an intensity that terrified you. He hadn’t looked at you like that since the first night you’d…

You swallowed back the bile and the memories, unable to let yourself get distracted now, with his life in the balance. Now you understood why he’d come here, why he’d risked everything - his life, and yours - to get to you in this remote place. He knew your skill with healing, and he knew that you were familiar with this type of injury. As if confirming your thoughts, he nodded, the motion eliciting a new wince of pain. 

“Dragon fire.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement. You already knew the answer. He nodded again, his eye closing as he took a few shallow breaths. 

You took in the state of his injury once more. How you’d missed the acrid, sulfur-like stench of his burn initially was a mystery. It assaulted your nose now, threatening to bring up that wave of bile you’d barely managed to swallow down. You couldn’t see how far along Aemond’s back the burn extended, but you were grateful to see that his neck, arms, and legs look relatively unscathed, with the exception of that gruesome gash. 

“I need to get you back to my hut,” you stammered out, trying to swat away the small twinge of embarrassment at calling your home a hut, although it was arguably the most appropriate word you could come up with. If Aemond noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodded once and braced himself against the back of the tree. You carefully lifted his left arm up and threw it over your shoulders, bracing his body weight against yours as he rose precariously to his feet. You were careful not to touch him wherever he was burned, but it was near impossible with his entire torso wreathed in charred flesh. 

“Do what you have to,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I won’t stay conscious much longer.” You took his meaning: you had to get him where he needed to go as quickly as you could, pain be damned. Stealing your own nerves, you shimmied up right against him, taking more of his weight, and started off in the direction of your home. He roared in agony most of the way, fighting to keep his screams from breaking loose. Aemond barely made it inside and onto the single cot you slept on before his eye lolled shut and he slipped into unconsciousness…

read chapter 2 here

[littleredstory]

Beta Read my Story???

Little Red is red-y to be consumed as a draft, and I would appreciate it SOOO much if anybody out there would give it a read and tell me their thoughts! I know a couple people have already expressed interest, so please send me a message or email me @ spectascopes@gmail.com if you're willing to do it!!

*EDIT: SHORT SUMMARY: Russel and his older brother Stan are living on their own and working through a lot of issues from their shared past, but things are good. What isn't good is the stray, injured fairy that finds its way to their porch- fairies are a species of intelligent feline evolved to walk upright. They're a designer pet for rich people, and not a lot is known about them because of their small numbers. What's worse is that this one seems capable of understanding and speaking English just fine, so now the two brothers have to figure out what the hell is going on.

The story is 225 pages and 106,000 words long. It's a hefty beast! Because of that and the commitment it takes to beta read something so lengthy, anybody that does it and gives me their thoughts gets 1) a million of my homegrown organic kisses if they so choose and 2, more importantly) a drawing! A single character lined/shaded drawing, which you can see examples of here. One of the few ways I have to thank people for doing this for me!

I'd ideally like for 5 to 10 people to read and give me thoughts, but the more the merrier!

If you message/email to get in on this mundane once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (who else wrote a story called Little Red that they're asking to get beta-read in 2024?) I'll send you the story in whatever format works best, a downloadable file or link to a google doc, and when you're all done just tell me what you think! There's no "time limit" but within a couple of months would be great :]

I would like some detail in the thoughts, and please- be critical! Not mean, but critical! You could read it all and then do a little summary or do small thoughts chapter by chapter, whatever works. I'd say I would like at least hmmm 500 words of thought? More is better, but reading the story just to say "it was good" is not the most helpful feedback.

I'm looking for things like: did you like the characters? Which character was your favorite, and were any significantly weaker than the others? How was the pacing, did it feel too fast or too slow at any point? Did anything stand out to you as really well done or really NOT well done? These are just suggestions and not an exhaustive list of things I'd like to know, and if you have different things to comment on, chat away! It's just an example of some.

Once you do that, I'll reply with a handful of questions about potential changes to the story and if you, the reader, think they'd be positive or negative, and also ask what you'd like drawn.

Does this sound fair? Does this sound okay? I've never written a novel before! I'm going to ask people completely removed from the sphere to read it, too, because I want lots of diverse insight so I can make the story as good as it can be :]

(PS- if you beta read and are qualified to comment on things like how I, whitemen, have written the two black main characters, PLEASE share thoughts and feedback!! I want to write diverse characters, obviously, but I am fallible and human and research can only get me so far. Critique and thoughts on stuff like that, or handling mental illness, or a character with a lot of scars, or a mute character, don't hesitate to share!!)