#i wish him a safe journey on this channel hes baby???

[socksandbuttons]

If Jack gains sentience, he shall cause more chaos :D.

If anything were to happen to jack we'll riot

[nick-nocturne]

Hello! I recently got into your content with Welcome home, and I scrolled on your blog for a bit. I saw that you have... some sort of rivalry/beef with matpat of the theorist channels, and I wanted to know your thoughts on his retirement. As someone who grew up watching his game theory videos, and having those game theory videos, particularly the fnaf theory videos, be the reason I was able to fit in and share common interests with my peers in middle and high school when the fnaf craze was still going strong? It was hard to hear your criticism of one of my beloved childhood figures. But you helped me realize that I had put matpat up on a pedestal because of his videos and because of my childhood nostalgia, and that I didn't need to do that. I do wonder if you think that matpat has gotten better, that he's not as bad or egotistical as he was before. There are many questions I would like to ask. But I'll stick with only one.

So, rivalry/beef/hatred or whatever feelings you hold towards matpat aside, how do you feel about matpat retiring from YouTube? Are you happy? Elated to see a rival or opponent gone? Or do you feel something else about seeing him leave the public sphere. I'd just like to know your opinion, considering your strong feelings on him before.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Nocturne.

An angel must've tapped you to ask this, considering how much I've been thinking about this lately. ::3 The majority of heat I've ever lobbed against MatPat in prior years can best be described as angst, a lot of it unwarranted. I've had issues with his business practices, his content practices, and a lot of his content approaches--but that never called for the kind of flippant sneering I used to exhibit towards him. I've had criticism of MatPat and can't say I saw Game Theory as favorably as I felt it could have been--and I wish I could tell myself from a few years ago to accept that feeling and chill, especially when I knew I still respected his passion, his dedication, and his impact. I feel really good about MatPat retiring and it's for exactly two reasons: he gets to leave on happy terms, on his own terms, after fulfilling a career of over a decade being a trailblazer on YouTube who legitimately has inspired hundreds, if not thousands, of people in a truly positive way; and he gets to pass his position to someone else and give them a chance at what is, for coverage in certain areas of art creation, the top of the mountain. I also thought while watching his goodbye video that he's clearly been thinking a ton about how he's done his work on YouTube, and the impact he's had through his methods, good and bad--I could hear it in his words and the nuances. He's been reflecting, that's for sure, and it informed the way he sat down to talk about the journey. I also felt a lot of resonating with things he said, and there were moments in that goodbye video that I truly understood him and know exactly how he feels. I felt I could have sat on that couch with him and had a conversation as a guy who gets it, because this many years on, I do get it. And while I don't have as much in common with MatPat as I do Jamie of Inside A Mind, or Jeff of Jeffiot, or Goose Boose, there's common ground he and I could talk very warmly over. Ultimately, I am happy he gets to leave in happiness, with what he's built in hands he trusts, and that he knows his first baby--Game Theory--is going to be safe. I wish him, very sincerely, so much happiness and all the fulfillment that opening his life and getting more time as a father, husband, and man will bring him.

[greensword101]

Connor Adopted AU

Okay, this idea came to me a few weeks ago with a little idea for a one shot that has now developed into a large idea.

So, we all know what happens in "Sleep Tight" in Angel, Season 3, right? Wesley decides to not tell anyone about the prophesy involving Angel potentially committing filicide and tries to kidnap Connor for his safety. What happens as consequence is Connor getting kidnapped by Holtz, growing up in the worst hell dimension possible, and Connor returning as a teen and ultimately becoming (in my opinion) the most tragic character in the Buffyverse.

Instead of doing the good old fashioned Poor Communication Kills route here, Wesley decides that Angel has a right to know about the dreaded last line: The Father Will Kill The Son.

Angel...does not handle it well. He insists that Wesley could have mistranslated, is pulling a prank, that he was reading the wrong scroll. In the end, he is forced to accept that it is true. Connor is just a baby. He has only begun to taste life and there are so many things Angel had wanted to do, so many steps he was eagerly looking forward to.

All of it gone in an instant.

"Not quite," Wesley says with a determined light. Angel is despairing that his son will die by his hand. But Wesley has already decided that it will not happen. You don't get half a miracle.

The biggest threats to the baby's safety are Holtz, Wolfram and Hart, and all of the cults obsessed with 'The Miracle Child.' They have to take priority.

"And Connor?" Angel dreads the answer.

Wesley looks close to crying. "We can't keep him..."

No one is happy with this decision. No one. But no one is happy with Connor dying, either, and so they begin making plans to find a home for him. Wesley and Cordelia work on creating a new identity for the baby and finding a foster family. Fred buries her grief in packing up what the baby is going to take to his new forever home. Gunn and Angel channel their rage and own despair into hunting down every last threat to their son/nephew. Lorne is working with the Furies on getting the best protective spells available to hide Connor from enemies and hide him under the radar.

Holtz realizes that he can't move forward with his revenge plan as word of Angel's rampage spreads throughout the underworld. His followers slowly abandon him as their fear for their lives overpowers their lust for blood. Even Justine leaves him, seeing it as a lost cause and there's nothing to be gained from fighting a losing battle.

A family is found, Cordelia fills them in on only what is essential: the baby is in an unsafe environment, the baby's father wants him put into a safe and loving home. Lawrence and Colleen Reilly already have a daughter that is ten years old, and they're too old to try passing the kid off as their own. But all it takes is one picture of little Connor for them to fall in love instantly.

And so, the day the Fang Gang had been expecting and dreading arrives. Angel kisses his son on the forehead one last time before disappearing into the night, unable to bear watching his son be taken away.

"Sleep tight, son. Daddy will always love you..."

Cordelia makes the journey to the Reilly's home with Wesley acting as the decoy in case Wolfram and Hart try anything. She's holding back tears as she hands Connor off to his new family, wishing them well while Lorne is in the car finishing the last of the spellwork to protect Connor and the Reillys. Wesley gets his throat slit when one of Lilah's security team thinks he has the baby. She's furious at being made a fool, but still ensures that Wesley is taken to the hospital because s̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶o̶f̶t̶ ̶s̶p̶o̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ she wants to send a message to Angel.

Angel is the first to see Wesley in his hospital bed, unable to speak and unable to move from his spot. He awaits judgement several feet away.

Angel is quiet. "Did you really think I had it in me to kill Connor?"

Wesley looks at him hard, silently saying You could have become Angelus.

Angel nods. "Do you think I'm Angelus now?"

Wesley doesn't blink.

"Well, I'm not. You believe me, don't you?"

Slowly, Wesley nods.

"Good." Angel stands up and moves to the bed. His hand reaches for the pillow underneath Wesley's head...and gently fluffs it. Then, Angel readjusts his chair so it is right next to Wesley's bed.

"I'm staying here all night whether you want me to or not. That's the least I can do for you."

Wesley reaches out to Angel's hand and squeezes it tight. Gunn is waiting outside with Fred, who is sobbing into her coffee. Every last trace of Connor is out of the hotel, as if he were never there. They stay there the entire night, later joined by Cordelia and Lorne a few hours later.

While one family mourns the loss of one child, another family welcomes the introduction of another into their home. Connor Francis Reilly kept only several things from his old home: his name (including his middle name), a few teddy bears and a duck-printed blanket. Thanks to the efforts of the Furies and Lorne, no supernatural forces come near him. He grows up understanding that he was adopted, that Lawrence and Colleen are not his biological parents...and not thinking any less of them.

Of course, he wants to find his bio family. But only out of curiosity. His mom and dad (his parents) only told him that his mother (or who they think is his mom) worked hard to find a good home for him. He doesn't feel abandoned. He doesn't have any traumatic experiences (other than the one time he got lost in the store when he was five). Connor grows up relatively normal.

He watches Charmed with his big sister when he's a toddler (and connecting with the fourth sister, Paige, cause she was adopted too and loved her parents too), goes camping with his friends, is drawn to a lot of fantasy books like the Anna Rice novels. Mainly the ones that have vampires, for some reason. But never Stephanie Meyers, though. He gives up before he gets halfway through the first chapter in that series. That Bella girl is such an ungrateful brat!

His family goes out camping a lot, which was something Connor loved! He could almost imagine living off in the wild like Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe. Larence laughed at this and said. "You might just become the local menace in the woods."

He also loves to dance. Connor doesn't realize that he is just as artistic as his father and mother (well, Darla could sing well, and Angelus saw murder as an art form, but that's another story). It's mainly because he used to do boxing until he was 8 and punched a bag so hard that sand spilled out.

So, his dad suggested dancing instead. He could be like Billy Elliot and the chances of him punching someone's head clean off their shoulders would drastically decrease. Plus, dancing was fun! He didn't have to wear a tutu (thank God, his sister would never have let him live it down), and his instructors were amazed at how effortlessly he moved on the stage.

That's also how he met his future boyfriend (he's bi, his parents accepted that when he came out), Marcus. Marcus is on the football team and loves watching his boyfriend dance. He can't get over how graceful he is, it's almost inhuman.

Connor Reilly has an amazing life, and he can't think of how it could get any better than that.

About two weeks after he thinks this, the protection spells that were cast to protect him from the supernatural realm and hide him from enemies finally breaks. Connor gets hit by a car and crashes into the garage of his family's home without a scratch on him. His parents, now well into their fifties, get an anonymous tip that they might find answers with a certain investigations company.

They trekked to L.A. and get accosted by a vampire cult. Connor is too stunned to do anything as they pull him away from his parents, screaming their heads off in terror as their only son is ripped away.

Vampires are real. He thinks over and over again as he's dragged underground into what he suspects is connected to the sewers. Vampires are real and I'm going to die.

He's stripped naked save for a loincloth. The man (or vampire) that he suspects in their leader looks euphoric as he looks Connor over in his cell.

"At long last, the Miracle Child is among us once more."

Connor doesn't understand how he could be a miracle. Well, other than how it was a miracle that he wasn't killed by that car. And the other stuff in his life that he is conveniently ignoring for the sake of his own sanity.

"You shall be freed from this human prison and be worshipped among your kind."

Connor doesn't like the way the creep looks close to kissing him just then. He's a minor and already has a boyfriend, thank you very much!

Too soon, he's dragged out and tied to an alter where the Head Creep suddenly changes his face and bares his sharp teeth. Connor tries fighting, but the bindings are too strong and he's frozen with fear.

And then the Head Creep is dust. Literal dust. One of the other creeps is behind him wearing that same Scary Face, but for some reason, Connor isn't afraid of that one. The sword in his (savior?)'s hand shines in the torchlight and slash at the bindings. Before Connor can react, he's swaddled in the robe the Scary-But-Not-Scary Guy was wearing and witnesses all of the other vampires being hacked and staked until there's no one left but him and the other guy.

Then, the face goes back to normal and Connor finds it funny that the guy looks like he's brooding. Well, he would if he weren't half naked and still possibly awaiting death by fanage. Suddenly, a bundle is tossed his way and Connor realizes that it's his own clothes. His savior has the decency to look away while Connor changes, which pushes him further up the Guess You're Not Really A Bad Guy bar in Connor's book.

"Are you hurt?" His savior asks.

"No." Connor says honestly. Then, he realizes that there's a scratch on his cheek (probably from when the sword was cutting off the rope).

For some reason, this seems to get his savior upset. "Oh God, Connor, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking! I wasn't trying to hurt you and" -

Connor cuts him off before he continues to ramble. "How did you know my name?!"

Then, he sees the guy's face. It looks so much like his own, except...broodier and his hair is short. Connor lost his hair band keeping his man bun in check and he has to brush away the bangs going over his eyes.

Connor then realizes that he's meeting his biological father for the first time ever.

[novantinuum]

The whole "Steven turning into a monster is a way to call people with mental illnesses monsters, and he got cured by a hug" take is one of the worst ones I've seen. Like, if someone thinks this, were you paying attention? At all? Steven felt upset and monstrous for all the stuff that happened in Future (people leaving him, shattering Jasper, Diamond projection, etc) and that made him feel disgusted with himself. He transformed into a monster because he /felt/ like one, not because the mentally ill are monsters. And the whole "cured with a hug thing" was his family showing that they accepted him. Even if he isn't the "lovable classic Steven" he once was. It was a step in the right direction, Steven knowing that his family still loves and supports him through everything. And because he felt safe enough to, he cried.

(Sorry for going off in your inbox like that, I was just thinking of this today though, and seeing you post about the same thing just inspired me to go off a little.)

No need for apologies, ahah! I’ve been there XD

Also, I 100% agree with this! I see Steven turning into a monster as representative of the self-loathing and distorted view of reality that often assails individuals who are dealing with mental illness. At that moment in time, all of the mistakes Steven had made (which, some of them ARE genuinely mistakes that he’ll have to eventually own up to- see: Jasper) had convinced him that he wasn’t worthy of change or atonement, wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love or worry, because he’s just a shattering monster and that’s all he’ll be forever. Not to mention, the whole visit with White Diamond had convinced him that he truly has DESIRE to shatter, when in actuality, no- he never made a move in reality to shatter White Diamond, it was all hallucinations, and one’s intrusive thoughts are not in fact an accurate representation of what a person truly believes or wants. In many cases, they’re actually what a person fears or hates the most. Which is why they’re intrusive.

In SUF, Steven is going through that oh-so-relatable mental illness experience of “everyone else deserves love and support and isn’t forever chained to their past mistakes and can grow and change, but of course I am the one exception to this rule.” The more we the audience think about that sentiment it doesn’t make sense! It’s hypocritical in a really sad way. And that’s exactly the point. When you’re in a spot like this, dealing with trauma, dealing with all the mental baggage that comes as a result, you are not able to see the reality around you clearly. You are often not able to understand the pathways of your own mental processes clearly. 

What the Crystal Gems and Greg and Connie and the Diamonds did in episode 19 did nothing to immediately improve Steven’s ability to better understand the leaps and backflips his mind takes amidst his trauma to convince himself that he’s worthless and unworthy of love. All they did was affirm that- even if he can’t understand why at this moment- they DO love him, and they will always love him. And I honestly can’t express just how important this type of affirmation is amidst early recovery.

The hug was not a cure. The hug was just a baby step. The hug was just their attempt to carry him down from what essentially reads as a souped-up diamond version of a panic attack.

True, holistic healing did not happen in just a few minutes, nor did true, holistic healing happen by the end of episode 20.

Healing and recovery is something that takes TIME and work. It’s something that may involve one or even a combination of various tactics... support groups, talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, medication, non-pharmacologic remedies like massage therapy or sun lamps or acupuncture, etc. etc. etc. There’s tons of things people turn towards to relieve stress and begin to understand the workings of their own mind, and how to better cope, and I could never hope to name them all.

We actually see some of these tactics in episode 20. For instance, Steven has an exercise routine now. (Keeping active can do wonders to relieve stress and encourage release of endorphins!) He’s been visiting his friends instead of secluding himself away like in earlier episodes. He mentions that he’s been seeing a therapist, and plans on continuing this over his trip. He is expressing healthier tendencies when it comes to sharing his non-happy emotions instead of bottling them up. He’s not perfect at this yet. No one’s recovery is going to be perfect, nor will it be a continuous upward journey. There will be good days, and there will be bad days. That’s natural. But he is clearly trying, and that’s worthwhile.

IMO, I can understand the sentiment of “I wish SUF explored Steven’s mental health recovery in more depth,” because part of me also wishes that. But in the end, I believe the fandom needs to come to accept that there are certain dimensions of that recovery process that are just too raw and personal for a show on a kid’s cartoon channel to realistically tackle in a satisfying way. So to compensate for that, Crewniverse gave us a broad framework. They fed us details that showed he is on that path of recovery now.

They are encouraging us to fill in the blanks.

Which is absolutely why much of my post-SUF fanfiction has been seeking to do exactly that.

But quite honestly, I’m really tired of the whole idea that “Crewniverse wants us to believe Steven is 100% ‘cured’ of mental illness by episode 20,” because that’s simply not true.

[mothdalf]

@finweanladiesweek

DAY ONE: Míriel Þerindë and Indis

I’ve depicted them both in their wedding gowns here, sort of two different moments in time linked together.

Under the cut is a VERY long head-canon/meta that eventually kind of turned into a fic, hidden in case you just want to focus on the art.

Indis is a Vanyar lady from the House of Ingwë, I like to think she was close in age to Finwë and they met when the Vanyar and Noldor first arrived in Valinor. They end up dancing and socialising at pretty much every event and are pretty good friends. That friendship has the potential to change into something romantic. But what’s the rush? They’re immortal. He’s a king, finally establishing a safe place for his people. There’s no danger here. No need to produce heirs. No need to marry the first person you dance with.

Míriel didn’t enter the picture until later. I like to think of her as half-Telerin hence her silver hair. Her parents were a Noldor nis and a Telerin ner who met during the great journey, her mother choosing to remain with her husband and the Teleri who lingered East of the sea. As a result Míriel was born on Tol Eressëa, and is quite a bit younger than Finwë and Indis.

Despite her typically Telerin looks, Míriel was a Noldor at heart and immersed herself in Noldorin culture and craft, soon settling on embroidery and weaving. She even journeyed to the House of Vairë to further her textiles skills and learn from the Vala and her Maiar.

I like the idea that many elves in Valinor follow a specific Valar, learning from them and acting as emissaries and ambassadors and links between them and the elves. Any elf can choose this (e.g. Celegorm and Oromë) but it is more common among the Vanyar. It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So they meet in the House of Vairë. And they’re very different. Indis is philosophical, interested in the themes, and the music, and the history of Vairë’s tapestries; Míriel inspects the stitches with a magnifying glass, and has to be stopped more than once from teasing the fibres apart to see how they’re woven together.

Indis channels logic and a cool composure, very insightful and granted foresight in many matters. She’s mindful, and always present, finding pleasure in this very moment. Míriel buzzes with ideas, sometimes her head hurts and she can’t think straight because she HAS to work through this next project, move on to the next one, she can’t step away she can’t stop. And her composure can be obliterated by one blow to her pride.

But somehow the friendship works, opposites attract sometimes. And upon their return from the house of Vairë, Míriel invites Indis to Alqualondë. And after that they visit each other often, and share letters once Míriel has learned to write Sarati. And if those letters ever start to take on a more flirting tone- well there’s no rush for them either.

It’s on one of these visits that they run into Finwë, Indis introduces her new friend, and the rest is history. It’s only after this that Indis turns her keen insight on herself and has an “oh shhiiit” moment. And now her best friends are engaged and what is she supposed to do?

She helps Míriel dress for her wedding day, arranging jewels, combing her hair, lifting the heavy embroidered fabric of the wedding dress she worked for months on over her head, and finally placing her crown on top.

They’re happy. She’s happy for them. There’s no betrayal or tricks or seduction, just love. Besides it’s probably better Finwë marries a Noldor woman anyway.

So when Míriel announces that she’s expecting a baby, Indis is sure the dull foreboding she feels is nothing but jealousy from a deep part of herself that she tries to shut away. She watches and helps Míriel as she pours all her creative efforts into beautiful things for this baby. Toys and clothes and blankets and anything else she can think of. Indis teases that the child won’t have to repeat an outfit for at least 100years at this rate. They take a trip back to the place they met and work together at one of Vairë’s vast looms to make a tapestry mural for the nursery.

But soon the frenzied crafting starts to slow. And slow more. Until Míriel barely bothers to do anything. People who know her are worried, but she just takes her husbands hand and says that she’s tired, after all she is working on something special at the moment.

When Fëanáro is born Indis watches her friend scream and curse, and eventually weep with joy as she whispers to her husband “he’s the most perfect thing we’ve ever made”

Things do get better for a while. But Míriel’s eye starts to twitch when people congratulate Finwë on their son, until eventually she barks out “of course he’d get the credit! I only did all the hard work” in a rough, sarcastic laugh that’s so unlike her. She doesn’t go to any formal events after this.

She sobs to her husband that she’s frightened. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s happy, except that she’s not. She finds no joy and no inspiration, she’s cold and tired and feels like she’s fading away.

Finwë suggests a trip away, so they go back to Míriels house in Alqualondë, and she doesn’t feel as watched, as judged, less angry and paranoid.

But the grief doesn’t lift. She can’t settle to work, she can’t find anything she wants to work on, her head is emptied of ideas and full of fog and she just wants to sleep.

Indis comes to visit them and finds Míriel in the nursery one evening, crying quietly. At first she won’t talk, simply saying that she doesn’t want to wake him, but the tears don’t stop and eventually she whimpers that she’s scared, and she’s disgusted with herself. Because she loves her son so much, but she can’t help but resent him. In some small dark part of her mind she’s angry with him, for taking her happy life away from her, taking her strength and her drive.

Indis takes her hands and pulls her to her feet and down the stairs to Finwë. “we’re going to Lorien. Tonight. Staying here isn’t helping her and she needs more than this.” She towers over both of them and there’s no arguing with her tone.

Irmo and Estë help all they can. Nienna helps more. Eventually Míriel calms. Almost eerily.

One night she calls Indis to the garden of Lorien. Míriel embraces her and kisses her cheeks and thanks her for her help. She holds her hands and tells her she’s sorry, but she’s made her choice.

Indis tried to change her mind. So does Finwë when he runs toward the sound of a raised voice. Not Míriel this time.

She asks Indis for a moment with her husband. And Indis runs to fetch Fëanáro.

She hands the baby to Míriel and asks how she can leave him, he needs her.

Míriel’s face crumples but her resolve doesn’t. “I’ve already given him everything I have”

She presses the baby into her husbands arms and kisses him before lying down on the stone bench and closing her eyes. Míriel sighs, finally feeling peaceful, and doesn’t breath again.

After the resulting uproar has died down, Indis doesn’t see Finwë very much. She visits occasionally and reads his letters about Fëanáro’s brilliant progress eagerly, but nothing is ever as it was.

When they meet again by accident on Oiolossë, it all comes back to them both. They’ve missed each other, they miss Miriel, but they don’t have to loose each other. So they fall in love, and she comes back with him to Tirion while they make a plan. Fëanáro (the equivalent of a 10yo) is wonderfully pleasant to her, he asks about his mother a lot, and shows her all the things he’s learning about and working on. He’s so like Miriel that Indis doesn’t know how Finwë stands it.

When they first tell him that they want to get married, he doesn’t think much of it, at least until he picks up on the gossip and controversy, it’s only then that he starts to realise that something is different.

Indis gets ready for her own wedding without her best friend.

Fëanáro doesn’t take the Statute well, and the problems start. He decides to move away to continue his studies. Indis is not invited to visit him when his Father is.

Finwë is terrified when Indis gets pregnant with their first child, but she’s not. “I am not Miriel. As much as some might wish that were the case.”

The relationship between Fëanáro and his half siblings is a whole separate post. But the things he says about her and her children hurt Indis.

Sometimes she wants to scream at him “I knew your mother! I was her friend! I lost her too! She would hate to hear you talk to me this way!” but she won’t. She can see how he feels and she understands why, but this doesn’t mean she takes the way he treats her children lightly, and he wishes Finwë would back her more in this. But she bares it, and she teaches her children to be kind.

This all changes with the incident. Fëanáro can lash out, he can say cruel things, but he has never threatened one of her children before. And he never will again if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders. She hears the Valar’s judgement, and knows she will comfort Finwë over his sons banishment, as much as she is grateful for it.

The rage she feels when Finwë decides to go with him is cosmic. But it’s when she sees Nolofinwë’s face that she snaps. She tells him with eyes sharper than any sword that if he chooses to go, he can never come back to her. No matter what happens between his sons, she will never forgive him for what he’s doing to her’s.

The news of his death makes her heart hurt in the strangest way. She’s closed herself off from him but the pain bleeds through. At least now he can be with Miriel, she thinks. He made it clear where his heart truly lay when he left. She laughs until she sobs, then composes herself to comfort her children.

She nearly sends Fëanáro to reunite with his father in Mandos when he insights her children and grandchildren to follow him across the sea. She nearly faints when Arafinwë comes back baring tidings of the kinslaying, the streets Míriel showed her around littered with bodies and the beach they would walk along in the evening wet with blood.

Indis stands beside her youngest son when he’s crowned and moves back into her old rooms in Tirion, abandoned when Finwë left for Formenos. After all, she’s been a ruling queen for longer than Arafinwë has lived. She’ll make a good advisor.

In Mandos Míriel is faced by the life she chose to leave behind. First her husband, and then her son. She speaks with Finwë for a long time, and many hurts are healed, but they’ve both made choices they can’t take back. Míriel stands by her decision, she chose to stay, at least in part so Finwë could move on, they make their peace with other, and she encourages him to return and make peace with his other wife. News of their son’s death stops him. He knows that he will remain, it’s with Fëanáro that his heart truly lies, not Míriel, whatever Indis may think. So he appeals for her to be allowed to leave in his place, every inch the king as he points out that the statute will remain unbroken.

She is allowed to see Fëanáro once before she leaves. There are no words for how she feels. So sad, so proud. She’s so sorry to leave him again, but she promises to watch over his sons.

Míriel returns to life, but she doesn’t return to the life she left. She stays close to the halls, and goes to a timeless place, but one she knows well.

It just so happens that Indis is a devotee of Vairë.

So much is different, and there’s a lot to work through, and it’s hard. But being back where they began, with a new life for each of them, is made easier with this reprise of their youth.

And if, as their friendship blooms again into a new form, Míriel eventually asks about the specific wording of the statute, and what it means for them being the two living parts of this three person marriage, well- there’s no rush to figure it out.

[airashisakura]

Pregnancy Diaries

Chapter 4 - A New Dawn

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter3

Rating: General audience

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke & Haruno Sakura

Summary : A peek into how Sasuke and Sakura spend the last day of the year.

A/N : I've always wanted to write how Sasuke and Sakura had celebrated New Year when they were expecting Sarada. And I must admit this is one of my own fic, which gives me a different level of self satisfaction. It would be unfair, if I don't acknowledge @something-like-air, who gave final touches to make this more beautiful. I wrote the chapter of this series back in 2020, and posted in FFN and AO3. (PS- I didn't have Tumblr back then, so........)

“It's snowing.”

Sasuke heard Sakura’s soft voice mingling with the chilly wind. Sasuke turned back to look at his wife, who was peeking outside. Sasuke had been setting up the twigs to light a fire. It was freezing, and he was trying to warm their shelter — an abandoned shrine — rustic, ancient and not so spacious. Much to Sasuke’s dislike, the shrine’s door was also damaged so that it couldn’t be closed to block wintry winds coming inside. It was the best Sasuke had found within wilderness to protect them from the bone-chilling temperature.

Sakura thought carefully, deciding whether to get out to enjoy the weather. With careful steps, she stepped out of the shrine.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sakura gasped, holding her cloak closer to body . She scrunched her nose, shivering when the snowflakes touched her skin. It wasn’t like she hadn’t felt delighted by snowfall before, but after the baby started kicking, Sakura’s excitement in everything was doubled.

“Aah,” Sasuke responded, admiring Sakura’s beauty. The pale snow blending with her radiant skin. It was exactly the stark contrast of their dispositions — cold like him and warm like her. He wondered what his child would be like — maybe a perfect blend — soothing yet harbouring a fire inside.

Sasuke turned his attention to his unfinished work. He needed to make a fire - big enough to keep them warm. Channeling the right amount of chakra, he expelled fire to burn the flammable materials. He was confident that winds were not strong enough to extinguish the fire he had made. He checked the shrine again and then sat, leaning on the wall.

He noticed Sakura didn’t mind the chilling temperature and seemed to enjoy the weather — carelessly. Sasuke huffed when Sakura took the liberty of removing her gloves to catch the falling snow.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

Sakura pouted, but she knew keeping herself warm was necessary for the baby too. She scooted near the fire and sat carefully in front of Sasuke. She leaned back against his broad chest, supporting her weight on him and let out a content sigh. “This feels good.”

Sasuke smirked and said nothing. Gradually silence enveloped both of them. They had gotten accustomed with each other while traveling—silence didn't feel icy now; instead it was the warmth they had craved.

Sasuke craned his face to look at Sakura. Her reddened nose and cheeks, the snow intertwined with her pink hair, and her baby bump all amplified her beauty. She was in the sixth month of her pregnancy and her belly had distended more to accommodate the growing baby. He wanted to stay longer like this, but Sakura needed rest after all the trouble they had finding a secure place to spend the winter night.

“You should sleep,” Sasuke said, brushing the snow from her hair.

Sakura hummed in response and rubbed her baby bump gently. She definitely didn’t want to move an inch from her position. Sharing intimate moments wasn’t possible these days, and she didn’t want to ruin this perfect moment. She shifted to a more comfortable position, pressing her body closer to Sasuke’s to get more warmth and comfort. It was a comfort she had once thought wasn’t meant for her. She had always chased Sasuke,  and she had never expected that this year her prayers would be answered.

It was the last day of the year — the year where all her dreams had become reality. Sakura walked through the memories. She recalled the morning she had decided to follow Sasuke in his journey. The afternoon they had sat a little closer while taking a break. The evening when they had first shared a gentle kiss. The night when she had felt Sasuke’s bare skin on hers for the very first time.

The harsh wind roared outside. Sasuke grunted in disappointment when the wind gushed through the open door. The temperature was dropping gradually, and the fire was not keeping them as warm as he had expected.

“You should get inside a blanket. It’s cold here,” Sasuke said, knowing Sakura was freezing, though she was trying her best to snuggle with him.

“But you’re so warm,” Sakura replied, giggling. She was determined not to trade off the present moment just because of some persistent chilly winds and the fatigue from the extra weight of the baby she was carrying

Sasuke almost laughed at Sakura’s reply. Sasuke shifted and unclasped his cloak. Sakura thought Sasuke was planning to put her in the futon, and thus she nagged, wailing like a child who was forced to get into the bed.

“You’re so annoying,” Sasuke reminded her while he wrapped his cloak around her. He couldn't deny how badly he had also missed such moments together.

He smiled wryly when he realized how much his life had changed. He had never cared about the weather. He continued travelling and wasted as little time resting as possible. A lot of times he had spent his entire night without shelter in the same raging weather. He had thought the bitterness of the world had taught him to survive in the worst conditions, that the harshness of winter couldn't affect him. He realised he was wrong. He wasn’t alone anymore, and now that he had the responsibility of taking care of his wife and his child, he too yearned for security.

Sasuke looked outside, watching the falling snow. He realized that his child would be born in spring.

Earlier, when Sakura had joined him, he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Days passed and before he could realize it, he had started admiring Sakura’s presence. There were things that he could never have realised and felt if Sakura hadn’t been with him. He hated thinking how he had always pushed her out of his life. After all of the cold dark nights he’d spent alone, Sakura’s warmth felt like a reward for accepting her in his life. He wanted to thank Sakura for everything and so he placed his palm over Sakura's, which was resting on her bump.

Sakura felt Sasuke’s cold fingers threading with hers. Although there were clear signs of exhaustion on her face, she offered him one of her best smiles. This year had brought some big changes in her life, and one of them was the decreased distance between her and Sasuke. Although sometimes she still couldn’t figure out Sasuke, it didn’t feel distant. Sasuke was trying to let his guard down around her, though he couldn’t do it completely — Sakura was happy with his efforts.

Sakura wondered how her younger self would react if she had known about all of this — that after all those years of pain and hopelessness — finally she would have what she wanted. No, not only that — she would thank her if there was a way to meet her — for never giving up on her love.

There was only one thing she wanted now — to meet her baby soon. The last thing that Sakura would wish for when the year was going to end — within the shrine that had once flourished with prayers and blessings — was to bring her child safely into the world. Living with Sasuke had taught her to find the best in the worst situations, and Sakura was elated that she could do it that night too.

The sounds of bells ringing snapped them out of their thoughts. There must be a village nearby, which would explain the condition of the shrine they were staying in. The establishment of a new shrine in the prosperous village had robbed this shrine of its maintenance.

“It’s already time?” Sakura excitedly asked. The sound of the bells felt good to her ears. As a child, her parents had told her that the ringing of bells was part of a ritual to purify their minds and souls for the year ahead. It was the first time she felt real peace with her small family, which was one step further from being ‘complete.’

As the ringing of bells subsided, Sakura whispered, rubbing her belly, “Happy New Year, little one. I can’t wait to meet you.”

Sakura’s giggles and dialogues with their unborn baby filled Sasuke’s heart. Although Sakura told him that babies could hear and respond to external sounds, the way communication worked between mother and child amazed him.

Sakura squeaked, catching Sasuke’s attention again. “Oh! It kicked.” She grabbed Sasuke’s hand and hoped that she might feel the little one’s feet again.

“Did you feel it?” Sakura asked, placing Sasuke’s hand over the area where the baby was kicking.

Before Sasuke could respond, he felt the baby kick a few more times. He was bewildered how he could feel so good in spite of the chaotic weather. This was the warmth he had always craved — with the people he loved.

“It seems you are also eager to meet us,” Sakura said gleefully. The little moments with their baby washed away all of the exhaustion from Sakura’s face.

Cheerful as always, she looked towards Sasuke. There were moments in their journey when she caught glimpses of Sasuke’s smile, but this smile would be the one she wanted to cherish for the rest of her life.

Sakura smiled brightly, holding her tears at bay, and whispered, “Happy New Year, Sasuke-kun.” She didn’t know about her younger self, but everything felt like a dream to her even.

“Aah.” Sasuke responded, but as soon as he saw tears roll down Sakura’s cheeks, he panicked. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well.

“Shannaroo!” Sakura wiped her tears and complained, “It’s just that the year passed so fast.” She was crying for such a stupid reason!

Relieved that it was just mood swings, Sasuke dug through his satchel, searching for the scroll he had sealed for a special purpose.

“I should’ve bought some osechi ryori before leaving the previous town.” Sakura continued talking while Sasuke opened the scroll.

“Hn. Maybe next year,” Sasuke replied with amusement, as he presented a box of treats and a spoon. Sasuke handed them to Sakura and said, “Open it.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes. It was very unlike for Sasuke to pack a box of osechi ryori. Sakura argued with herself while examining the box she had been handed. Hmm, but this isn’t a jūbako either. What is it?

Giving up on her attempts to guess, she opened the lid slowly. It didn’t take her long to figure it out when the aroma filled the space

“Anmitsu!” She giggled, green eyes wide with surprise.

Sasuke watched with awe as Sakura gulped the dessert. He wondered if she was really that hungry or if it was her love of sweets. He raised his brows in suspicion, when Sakura abruptly stopped eating.

“I wonder what our baby would like more. Anmitsu or tomatoes?” She teasingly emphasised the last word.

Sasuke rolled his eyes and replied, “We’ll see about that.”

Sakura placed a bet while gulping a spoonful of anmitsu.

Happiness had a different definition for everyone. For them, it was winter nights and snuggling close to each other. Sasuke realised that when he had to travel alone again,and on cold nights when he couldn’t feel Sakura’s warmth, this memory would protect him from these harsh nights with the promise that the next sunrise would be better than the last one.

Chapter - 5

[borisbubbles]

ESC2021 Preshow: 20. Estonia

Uku Suviste - “The lucky one”

Semi 2, #02

Going through the motions of 2021′s shitty NF season, it was a given that the critical mass of the “2020 returnees” competing the selections in these would win them hands down. 

So given how much i DISLIKED the offensively boring abomination “What love is”, and how PAINFULLY inevitable Uku’s victory in a decent Eesti Laul (um spoiler for NF corner?) seemed to be, It’s actually a shock I ended up liking Uku? But I do, lol and I’m not apologizing, sorry boos. 

In fact, I was rooting for Uku to win EL as soon as I saw his performance in the semi. “The lucky one”, which suffered from Aggressive Autotune + Forgettable Melody (we need a name for this. I propose Roxen Syndrome?), is legit good live and harps back to the (admittedly better) “Pretty Little Liar”, and that’s good enough for me. 

Of course, I am aware of the obvious ~*SOULLESS HIMBOT FROM THE DREAM FACTORY*~ label attached to this this entry (written by Uku and something called “Sharon Vaughn” are we certain this person isn’t just Kontopoulos in drag?), don’t worry. I rank him twentieth, not seventh. 

Fortunately, Uku is a mandroid from the SAME sweatshop that gave us Lucie Jones a few years back - in other words omfg he’s barely functional. 😍 Droning robot turned incompetent DRAMA KING <333333 The amount of EFFORT that needs to be thrown in to keep a ~pretence of competence~ is the most tangible in the backing vocals, which trail Uku’s like a shadow and STILL his voicecracks come through at key intervals <3

😍😍😍😍😍

The pathos of Uku throwing in high votes he cannot sing and then his voice breaking over the strain each time, gets me, okay? He doesn’t need a crystal ball to show me, baby it’s clear that you don’t know him :SOB:.  So dramatic, so inept, so unintetionally comedic, so Uku <3 

In other news, this lockdown had better end soon because with each passing day I feel like I’m turning further into a cat lady. 

ps: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYXNeYXUmEQ&loop=0  😍😍😍

NF Corner - Eesti Laul 2021

Finally a decent Eesti Laul, lol. I wish I could say it was good, but it had one of the weirdest semi split’s I’ve ever seen. EL’s first Semi was without exaggeration the WORST show in the entire season, and the second was a contender for the BEST one across all NFs???? I suppose EXTREME Evil and EXTREME Good balance each other out in blistering adequacy? 

Anyway, I’ll now proceed to ignore Koit and Egert and Karl Killing and Hans and all the other bad (non-Linna/non-Kéa) entries from semi 1, and proceed to an NF Corner composed ENTIRELY of semi 2 songs :-)

Jüri Pootsmann - “Magus Melanhoolia”

It was between Sissi and Jüri for the Token Superfinalist Contender slot on this list, and Jüri is infinitely more notable. Sorry, Sis ur time (to win Eesti Laul?) will come once you figure out to write good music :(

Anyway, what can I even say about Jüri because lmfao what a baffling entry. Registered BARITONE JÜRI POOTSMANN coming back with a an experimental lounge jazz song that is song almost entirely in falsetto. 😍 The camera angles <3 the fact that this already INCREDEBLY short song includes 10 seconds of Jüri standing on the stage looking bored <3 what a fucking baffling entry, I have no opinions, only exclamations of surprise. 

REDEL - “Tarttu”

I HAAAATED “Tarttu” on first listen. 😂😂😂😂 but seriously though, this is downright epic. The UNPLUGGED Meiekündimees MADNESS of it all, now condenced into a equally nonsensical song that is basically like “X is a wooden town but NONE OF THEM ARE AS WOODEN TOWNY AS TARTTU. *incoherent kazoo noises*” 😍😍😍 Once got the chorus stuck in my head at the zoo as I was watching the penguins getting fed and it was one of the most bizarre synesthesic experiences I’ve ever had lmfao <3

Gram-of-Fun - “Lost in a dance”

If you’re wondering what the sort of music I listen to Eurovision is like - this is it. INCREDIBLY good and addictive and EMOTIONALLY tangible 80s New Wave is my fucking jam, can we have entries like this in EVERY selection from here on out? WELL DONE Kristel... on composing this wonderful song, less so on the Kazka-esque vocals that caused it to tragically NQ in the semi. 🙄 Still, BRING THEM BACK (and restrict Kristel to a songwriter only role, plz.)

Gram-of-Fun were my fave, but because they NQ’d somebody else had to fill their shoes in the finale. I’ll now reveal who it was

Kadri Voorand - “Energy”

IT WAS HARD DECIDING BETWEEN SUURED TÜDRÜKUD AND KADRI THOUGH. But given that Charlotte Perelli is guaranteed to appear in Sweden’s NF corner (um is she? :counts on fingers: Clara, Evas, Dotter... ehh sure I’m committed now I guess), it would be best NOT to post Dagmar & Kaire as they fucking clown her lol <3 But their song WAS pretty antiquated schlager...

Kadri otoh... absolutely breaks all records for me by delivering a unicorn: an entertaining stripped-down piano ballad. For the most part because she has incredible emotional delivery that serves personality on a fucking pyrotechnical level, like onn-stop “Loudmouthed Oaf Energy” in the form of a introspective jazz ballad <3 Can you imagine Estonia actually picking this? They could have come left-handside. 

But will Uku do well? :o

Predicted Journey - Estonia

He won’t come top 10, if that’s what you mean by “well”.😂 If you mean “qualify for the Grand Final” then... potentially? Semi 2 is less of a crapshoot than the first semifinal however. At this stage, it’s pretty much “okay, so these twelve acts can qualify... but which ten will?”.

Fortunately for Uku, he is one of aforementionned twelve possible qualifiers. (the others are: san marino, czech rep, greece, moldova, iceland, serbia, albania, bulgaria, finland, switzerland and denmark). UNfortunately for Uku, he’s one of the candidates for the two NQ slots inside that group of twelve.

The problem with Estonia is that their entry is a televote-friendly ballad, stuck in a really televote-UNfriendly slot (#02), in a semi where the jury vote will very likely put them outside the top 10. If we add in a dark stage and Uku’s shaky vocals, they don’t look particularly secure. 

However, I also think Estonia can qualify relatively easily because “televote-friendly ballad” is a unique niche inside that semi; the other ballads (Switzerland is NOT a ballad), won’t be getting many votes and Uku’s appeal as a handsome man with a dramatic song will make him stand out in spite of his spot in the running order, as LONG AS his vocal delivery (or that of the prerecorded backing vocals) remains adequate enough. If not, he’ll be swiftly forgotten and NQ.

Another thing that can cause Uku to qualify is if at least two others of the twelve underwhelm (my money for that would be on Albania, Denmark, San Marino and/or Czech Rep), making Uku the lucky one as he’ll ascend in the ensuing powercreep.

At any rate, it’s really difficult to gauge how well Uku would do since I haven’t really thought about the other BL qualifiers’ odds enough. His televote should be strong enough to avoid bottom 3, I think, and I think it’s safe to say he won’t come top five. Between those values, pffffew, who can possibly tell? I’m not burning my fingers on that. 

Projected placements > Qualifier Tier: Borderline > Semifinal: 6th-14th (out of 17) > Grand Final: 17th-22nd (out of 26)

THE RANKING

01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. ESTONIA - Uku Suviste - “The lucky one” 21. FINLAND - Blind Channel - “Dark side” 22. AZERBAIJAN - Efendi - “Mata Hari” 23. the NETHERLANDS - Jeangu Macrooy - “Birth of a new age” 24. CZECH REPUBLIC - Benny Christo - “Omaga” 25. DENMARK - Fyr og Flamme - “Øve os på hinanden” 26. SLOVENIA - Ana Soklič - “Amen” 27. SWITZERLAND - Gjon’s Tears - “Tout l’Univers” 28. ROMANIA - Roxen - “Amnesia” 29. SERBIA - Huricane - “Loco loco” 30. POLAND - Rafał - “The ride” 31. ISRAEL - Eden Alene - “Set me free” 32. GEORGIA - Tornike Kipiani - “You” 33. PORTUGAL - The Black Mamba - “Love is on my side” 34. SPAIN - Blas Cantó - “Voy a quedarme” 35. NORWAY - Tix - “Fallen Angel” 36. CYPRUS - Elena Tsagrinou - “El Diablo” 37. AUSTRIA - Vincent Bueno - “Amen” 38. NORTH MACEDONIA - Vasil - “Here I stand” 39. GERMANY - Jendrik - “I don’t feel hate”

[lunatens]

too much to ask

word count: 1.5k

genre: angst :((

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

requested by anonymous <3

a/n: i don’t write angst often but this is probably the most angsty thing i’ve ever written lolol pls enjoy i hope it makes u sad also if anyone wants a sequel lemme know bc i feel so bad doing best boy hyunjin like this 

112520 update: here’s the sequel!

~

“happy birthday to me,” you sing lowly to yourself as you take another swig of your drink. it’s nearly midnight--meaning your birthday will be over in a mere few minutes--and hyunjin still isn’t home. you haven’t seen him all day, except for when he gave you a quick kiss when he left early in the morning with whispers of “i’ll see you tonight, babe. happy birthday,” as he quietly slipped out the door. 

honestly, you had high hopes for today. you’ve generally been understanding of hyunjin’s busy schedule, and while it’s hard for him to be busy or overseas so often you’ve gotten used to it. sure, it meant a lot of holidays or anniversaries or celebrations spent alone, and it always hurts, but you’ve learned to accept hyunjin can’t be with you all the time. 

but he promised you he’d be home early from practice today so the two of you could spend the entire evening and night together--a rare occurrence, most times you have to settle on just a video chat or something. so hyunjin promising to spend the evening together was a big deal, and you couldn’t help but get your hopes up. of course you support hyunjin’s career and you always will, but you’d be lying to say you don’t crave a normal relationship where you can actually be with each other.

you had sat there for god knows how long staring out the window, eagerly waiting for hyunjin’s arrival. as the shadows grew long and a dusty haze darkened the sky, your heart sank deeper and deeper while your apartment remained silent. no loud laughter or terrible, over the top renditions of “happy birthday” echoing through the walls; no smell of blown-out candles or taste of sweet frosting on your lips. most importantly, no kisses that taste like sprinkles or soft hugs or hours spent in hyunjin’s arms like you were expecting. you haven’t even heard from your boyfriend since he’s been out, and you find yourself thinking at least a “sorry running late” text would be nice.

all of the day’s increasingly sad events--or lack thereof--are what has led you to your current state: lying sprawled out on the couch in the dark with your drink in one hand and the tv remote in the other as you flick through channels. you notice the slight buzz of alcohol making your head feel a little fuzzy--perhaps you’re balancing the line of tipsy and drunk.

you’re so out of it you barely register the key in the lock or the creak of the door as it swings open. the quietness of how hyunjin removes his coat and shoes tells you he’s trying to avoid you noticing him right away--he’s being cautious, you know he’s unsure of how to handle this situation. you glance at the clock and aren’t sure whether to laugh or cry; it’s 12:01--he’s missed your birthday by a single minute.

you opt for ignoring hyunjin, wanting to see how he treats the situation. honestly, your thoughts are too cloudy to even try and piece words together, so silence seems like the best option for now. you remain your channel surfing, eventually settling on an animal documentary. on-screen, you watch as a herd of elephants traverse a large expanse of desert. the room is silent, besides the quiet narration of the elephants’ journey, but you know hyunjin’s still there.

after what seems like an eternity, you pick up on the tentative shuffling footsteps that make their way to the couch. you feel arms snake their way around you from behind, but you don’t reciprocate.

“i’m so sorry, y/n” he mumbles, climbing over the couch to sit beside you. he studies your face, but you continue staring at the tv ahead. a baby elephant is now approaching a mud hole in search of water. you try to focus on the elephants and not how upset you are at how your rare chance at having a fun night together was taken away from you. you’re trying not to think about how you’re always so patient with hyunjin, and you put up with so, so much, and the one day that’s meant to celebrate you has been ruined. was it too much to ask for just one day--scratch that, a mere evening together? apparently it was, you think to yourself, and you try to remain stoic but you can’t stop the teardrops from silently trickling down your cheek. the elephant on-screen slips and falls into the mudhole, trumpeting feebly as it struggles to climb out. 

“y/n, i’m so sorry.”hyunjin says again, this time pulling your body close to his so he can hold you tightly and stroke your hair gently like he always does to soothe you. this action makes it worse; now you feel like you shouldn’t be mad at him, it’s probably not his fault. but you still are mad, and you can’t seem to redirect this anger. you still remain limp, not responding at all to hyunjin’s attempts at reconciliation. the alcohol clouding your thoughts does nothing to help the situation, and you find you’re having trouble processing the whirlwind of emotions running through you.

“i just--i tried to leave after practice, which already was running late,but seungmin was struggling with a part of the choreo so i-”

“you promised.” you cut him off, voice quiet but stern--almost stern, actually, as your voice waivers a bit at the end. hyunjin shuts up, taking the cue not to make any excuses. he quietly waits for your response, and you can feel his heart beating loud in his chest. you know he’s feeling immense guilt right now and is doing his best to not set off any land mines, and you almost feel bad for him for a moment, but the pang in your chest when you finally look at him with tear-stained cheeks reminds you how hurt you are. 

“you promised, hyunjin. you promised we’d have this one evening together, and i was dumb enough to actually get excited to be able to spend time with my boyfriend for once but now i realize that was so stupid of me, how could i be so stupid hyunjin?? this should’ve been like every other holiday or celebration where i sit alone wishing you were here and you’re out with your friends having fun and touring the world, i always miss you when that happens and it sucks but at least it doesn’t hurt as bad as this does,” the words start spilling from your mouth, and you’re not sure how much hyunjin can even understand from your mildly slurred speech, but you’re sure he’s got the gist of it.

“y/n, i--”

“i wish i never met you.” you mutter, half to yourself. your voice is barely audible at all, in fact you wouldn’t even be sure you said it if it wasn’t for the way hyunjin’s face fell. you watch how the colour drains from his face and he stares at you with wide eyes and speechless lips, you can see the heartbreak written across his face. hyunjin responds softly, trying his best to keep his composure.

“y-you don’t mean that,” he says with uncertainty, now avoiding eye contact. you merely glare at him in response, you want to tell him you didn’t mean it and you take it all back but you know that’s not entirely true. as much as you love hyunjin so, so much, this loneliness and heartbreak is just so hard sometimes, and it makes you question whether this relationship is worth it. sometimes you just think it would be so much easier if you’d never met hyunjin, you wouldn’t know this kind of pain.

hyunjin’s breath hitches at your silence, and he runs his fingers through his hair--a constant habit of his. without looking back up at you, he speaks once again, voice low. 

“okay, well uh, i-i think i’m going to head to bed then. i lov--happy birthday, y/n.” he mutters, and with those words, he slowly makes his way to your shared bedroom. in your peripheral vision, you catch him turn to look at you when he reaches the doorway, but you continue staring blankly at the tv. it’s not long before his slender figure disappears from sight and you hear the door quietly click behind him.

on the tv screen, you notice the elephant has fallen into the mud pit and is struggling to climb free. the herd in the distance doesn’t seem to notice this struggle, and the elephant sinks deeper into the mud each time it tries to escape. you check your phone to see the time and your wallpaper photo of you and hyunjin together is enough to open the flood gates. silent tears stream down your face as you lie alone on the couch, pulling the blanket tight to you and trying not to think about how falling asleep without hyunjin beside you (yet knowing he’s in the room next to you) just feels so wrong. it’s safe to say this has been the worst birthday ever, you think to yourself as your drunkenness finally lulls you to sleep.

[arofili]

some Turgon thoughts

so @siphilemon asked on discord for Turgon headcanons and I, a known Turgon apologist, was all too happy to oblige! I rambled for awhile and thought that maybe some other people might be interested in my thoughts, so I’ve gathered them here. under a cut because it’s a Lot.

General Turgon HCs

Turgon is fiercely devoted to his family, whether that's his siblings or his dad or Finrod or Elenwë and Idril...and he outlives. all. of. them. except for Idril and the Fëanorians, who he does NOT like

He's grumpy, more of an introvert than Fingon and Finrod are for sure, he was never really fond of the Fëanorians (esp Maedhros) but that was more because “someone in the family has to stand with Dad against them and it isn't going to be Fingon or Aredhel, so I guess it's gonna be me” and then add the whole thing with Fingon and Maedhros being in love on top of that...he's protective of Fingon

And then. things get bad.

There was never any question that Turno was going to follow his family to Middle-earth, he's devoted to them above everything - and I think he and Elenwë were very much in love and devoted to each other (some of my personal Elenwë hcs is that her parents weren't very excited about her marrying Turgon, and she kind of chose him over them, hence her being the Only Vanya who leaves with the Noldor) and he knew Elenwë would go with him

That's why Baby Idril went along on the Second Most Dangerous Road Trip In All Of Arda (which after the burning of the ships becomes the Most Dangerous Road Trip, surpassing the Great Journey)

but I don't think that (at first) Turgon was very excited about going to Middle-earth for himself? it isn't until Ulmo gives him the dream about Gondolin that he really gets the idea of creating a city of his own, a land of his own

And Gondolin is said to be Very Much reminiscent of Tirion - and Turgon is the one who keeps sending messengers back to Valinor - he missed his home

And he blames the Fëanorians for everything that went wrong. Morgoth too, but he's always kind of resented the Fëanorians, and then Elenwë died and it's all Fëanor’s fault but then when he arrives in Middle-earth Fëanor is dead so he shifts his anger onto Maedhros instead. Maedhros is a very sore spot between Turgon and Fingon.

And after Fingon dies.....well, Turgon blames himself, but he's angry with Maedhros. IMO Turgon is very much a hypocrite - he hates and hates and hates but does the same damn things he hates people for doing (i'm a sucker for Finrod/Turgon which is a juicy parallel to Idril/Maeglin...)

Turgon & Idril

Turgon is intensely protective of Idril, almost suffocatingly so

he was always kind of inclined to be an anxious helicopter parent but after Elenwë dies (it's fucking canon that both of them nearly die but Turgon has to choose between saving Idril or Elenwe, which fucks me up to no end) he's literally Never Letting Her Out Of His Sight

In the immediate aftermath of Elenwë’s death / the rest of the journey across the Ice, that's fine? it's a survival strategy, a coping mechanism, and Idril is traumatized and doesn't want to leave her dad

but then they get to Middle-earth (and Turgon loses his little brother, which makes him cling to his daughter even more) and Idril starts to grow up. IMO she was pretty young when they left Valinor, and she comes of age in Middle-earth. She can finally walk around barefoot in the grass again, and she starts making friends and learning to live without her mom.

which is something that terrifies Turgon, because he doesn't know how to move on without Elenwe, and he's always always looking back to Valinor but Idril barely remembers Valinor by the time she's older, and he's terrified she'll forget her mother

Idril loves her dad but he's very controlling and overprotective - and the dangers of Beleriand only make him more paranoid, even after the Dagor Aglareb ensures the Long Peace...

When Turgon builds Gondolin of course Idril is coming with him. He doesn't even ask her. She wants to go, she loves her dad even if she kind of resents that he still treats her like a child, but she wishes he'd asked her how she felt about the whole thing instead of assuming

(In general Turgon is really really bad at communicating. Elenwë was good at teasing out what he was feeling and getting him to talk but after losing her he shuts out the world. Finrod - whether we're going in a shippy context or not - is also good at understanding Turgon, and that night at the river they have an almost breakthrough together... but then Ulmo visits them and clouds their memories and they forget about it until way later)

But back to Idril: once they're in Gondolin and she can Literally Never Leave, Turgon relaxes a little bit, gives her some more freedom, because this is his city and she's safe here, right? But then everything happens with Aredhel and he's terrified again because if he can lose his sister what about his daughter---

Except now he has Maeglin to take care of too. Turgon is torn between parenting both his daughter and his nephew and ends up not doing a good job of either even though he tries...and Idril doesn't want to be parented at this point, she's a grown ass woman! Maeglin however does need a parent-figure and Turgon "Bad At Communicating" Nolofinwion horribly miscommunicates a lot of his intentions toward Maeglin

Anyway - I think Turgon is oblivious to Maeglin's feelings re: Idril? Until Tuor shows up and he can see "wait this mortal is in love with my daughter and is acting suspiciously like Maeglin...oh shit"

part of his motivation for letting Tuor marry Idril (aside from her being like "Dad I am gonna do what I want and you need to accept that") is fuck she can't marry MAEGLIN

Turgon & Aredhel

So I think that Turgon and Aredhel were the middle siblings who always kind of picked on each other in a loving sibling way? Like Finno is the Golden Child, the Responsible One, the Big Older Brother who adores them both - if they try to nag him it just bounces right off

but they know exactly how to push each other's buttons

and in Valinor that means they get into a lot of low-stakes petty fights that always resolve with them fiercely loving each other

after the ships burn Fingon is just...broken by Maedhros' betrayal. Aredhel, however, is fucking furious that Curvo and Tyelko would do this to her and she starts to channel that fury into hating them as much as Turgon does - which brings her and Turgon closer together

they forge a very deep bond on the Ice, especially with Aredhel kind of stepping in to help parent Idril after Elenwe dies

but unlike Turgon, when they get to Middle-earth Aredhel starts to heal (like Idril). she fights with C&C and then forgives them, and they go back to being friends. she gets to be carefree and happy again. and she'd still die for Turgon, she still looks up to him and loves him, which is why she follows him to Gondolin, but it was inevitable that she would get restless in Gondolin

Turgon resents Fingon for having Maedhros (i think he knows about their relationship and hates it but won't like, spill their secret bc he does love his bro) and he resents Idril and Aredhel for moving on from Elenwë & Argon's deaths because he can't do that, he feels like he's shouldering all the responsibility among his siblings

But most of all he resents himself for not being able to save them, and not being able to move on like a normal person (he's got some massive undiagnosed anxiety/depression). He kind of feels like he's suffering so his family doesn't have to, and since he loves his fam so much he thinks this is the "right" decision

(He's very hung up on morals for someone who is bad at following his own moral code)

So yeah he's angry that Aredhel wants to leave this safe place he created, but they fight and she pushes his buttons and he pushes hers except they're hurting still (aredhel is affected by everything that's happened, she just tries to focus on the positive) and they don't have time to makeup before Aredhel up and leaves

But he's not going to tell her she can't go because he does respect her decisions and her autonomy. and then when she disappears he's worried and then she comes back and he's overjoyed (and disturbed about what happened with Eöl) and then she dies and it's his fault and he blames himself....but Maeglin is also blaming himself and their self-pitying and grieving is magnified by being close together and they both come away worse for it. Maeglin thinks Turgon blames him, and Turgon thinks Maeglin blames him

And yeah, there is some I told you so in there, Turgon feels he was right, but he hates that because he'd rather be wrong than have his sister be dead

[jawritter]

Waiting....

**Warnings** Angst, Language, SPN level violence. Hurt Dean, Hurt/comfort fic. Think that’s everything.

Word Count: 1794

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader; Sam x Dean (Not Winchset)

A/N: All mistakes are mine!! Please don’t copy my stuff!! Cross Posted on Wattpad! If you want to be added to my tag list let me know!! This is a filler until tomorrow's chapter of Promised is released!! Hope you all enjoy this one!! As always feedback is appreciated!!

Dean's POV:

Tired wasn't the word for what Dean was feeling throughout his whole body right now. There wasn't a spot on him that wasn't sore or didn't feel like he'd been nailed with a sledgehammer. He knew he'd be covered in bruises in the morning, and if he was already this sore, then by the time he woke up he was going to barely be able to walk in the morning at all. 

He'd been in this shape before, it wasn't the first time some freak had kicked his ass. There were a lot more vamps in the coven than what they'd expected, and they'd almost got the jump on him. If Sammy wouldn't have shown up when he did, well...

Still, he was determined to not let it show just how bad he was hurting right now. Standing his aching body up as straight as possible he poured the last of the gas from the small can into the doorway of the house, struck the match, and tossed it inside before closing the front door. Torching the evidence was the fast way to go, and he needed this job to be over with so that he could get them back to the Lawrence before the soreness and stiffness won out over his own resolve, and they'd be stuck in this town for days.

"Come on Sam, get the lead out of your ass!" Dean yelled over his shoulder as he walked as straight as he could to the car.

Sam came trotting up to the passenger side of the impala, both men looking back at the burning house over before sliding in a shutting the door, pulling out of the driveway, and headed toward the city limits as fast as they could without getting caught. Dean was more than ready to put this little Podunk town behind him. Even though his body protested against him with every moment he was determined to make it back to Lawrence tonight, even if it killed him.

She would be waiting for him when came through those doors, and that's all he could think about. Getting back to her...

Your POV:

Sitting on the porch of the small house you'd been living in since moving to Lawrence Kansas, you held the cup of coffee that was steaming in your hands tighter to your chest like you could channel the warmth from the drink into your body to cut through the chilly night air. 

It wasn't completely dark yet, just dusk. 

You couldn't get used to this hunter life. When you meet dean, he'd told you he was just a traveling salesman selling health insurance.  About a year into your very odd relationship though, he stumbled through the front door of your house bloody, and with a dislocated shoulder. 

That's when you got the shock of your life. 

You almost left him that night. It wasn't one of your proudest moments. 

The shock of learning that all the shit that goes bump in the night is real and that your boyfriend hunts them and kills them, combined with the fact that he'd lied to you for over a fucking year and didn't open up to you about what he really was doing, laced with the, one day he may not come home, and it was almost too much for you to handle.

Even though you packed your bags you couldn't leave. You loved him too much. 

So every time he'd disappear with his brother to work on another 'case' as he called them, you'd pace the front porch and check the phone every few minutes until you heard from him again. You never really relaxed until he was back in your arms. This was just something you were going to have to learn to live with. You loved him too much to walk away.

Your phone dinged in the pocket of your favorite, oversized, fluffy robe that you wore when you needed some sort of comfort, and Dean was unavailable. 

Pulling it as quickly out of your pocket as you could you breathed a sigh of relief you didn't realize you were holding when the phone rang.

Dean: On my way home sweetheart. See you soon.

Dean's POV:

"Let me drive Dean so that you can get some rest.."

"No Sam, I'm fine! We only got about fifteen minutes and we'll be home. Why the hell would I pull over now?"

"Your hurting Dean, Let me drive you the rest of the way. I'll drop you off at the bunker, then I can go pick up Y/N if you want..."

"No Sam, now that's finale. I'm fine. I've had worse. I'm just a little sore, and ready to get out of this car. I'm not about to stop the car and prolong this trip any longer just so you can drive for the remainder of what's now probably only about a 13 minutes drive!"

Throwing his hands up in the air Sam gave up, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Well, the best he could anyway. He didn't know if it was the position he was sitting in, or if his ribs were broken, but about an hour into the drive they'd started screaming at him in an ugly way, and it started getting hard to hide the fact that he was so uncomfortable to his little brother who then became increasingly annoying as Dean's discomfort seemed to increase. 

The last 15 minutes to the journey seemed to feel like 15 hours. Finally, Dean saw the bunker. Pulling the car in front of the door, throwing it in park he looked over at Sam, not saying anything, just giving him the look of 'get the fuck out of my car I want to go home to my girl,’ or at least he was hoping that was the look he was portraying, and he didn't just look constipated...

"You're not serious? Dean look at you, your basically panting in pain! You’re not really going to drop me off here, then drive to Y/N’s house!"

Dean said nothing, just continued staring, wishing he could reach across the seat and slap him, but his ribs protested too much. He was pretty sure his left ankle had been dislocated as well, so that ruled out leverage. 

Sam shook his head and jerked the car door open. "You know I can go get her and bring her to you." 

Dean said nothing, just threw the car in reverse and looked at Sam waiting for him to shut the door. 

"I swear sometimes you're just like dad," he said, shutting the door like a little child, and stalking off toward the bunker. 

He'd be fine. Elaine was waiting there for him, he didn't know that yet, but Dean saw the tail of her car parked just next to the garage, safely hidden in the bushes. She'd keep him company. 

Dean knew that they had been secretly seeing each other for about a month now. They needed some time alone together. It was good for him. Even if for whatever reason he didn't want to tell him.

Getting back out on the main road Dean only had one goal in mind. Getting to his girl.

Your POV:

You'd been pacing the floor now for what felt like an absolute eternity. You were pretty sure this is what hell felt like even though you'd never been there. The time between knowing he was heading home, and hearing the sound of that impala he loved so much pull up in your driveway was the most agonizing part of waiting on Dean to return from a hunt. 

Looking at the clock for what felt like the thousandth time your chest heavy with anxiety. You knew you could never ask him to hang up his hunting boots. He'd done too much good. Saved too many people. This is who he was, you knew that when you signed up to stay for this. Still, that didn't make it any easier. 

Finally, when you thought you couldn't take another second you heard baby purring her way down your driveway.

"Thank God!"

You breathe the second sigh of relief that night. He was okay. He was home. 

Pulling the door open you run out of the door of your little house as you see the door open on the impala. Dean didn't get out. Fuck.. Something was wrong. Running your way down the steps to the car your blood ran from your face as soon as you saw him.

He was beaten up worse than you'd ever seen him. He looked at you with one of his eyes almost swollen shut, holding his body at a strange angle, taking shallow breaths as he leaned against the steering wheel. 

"Dean? Baby, what happened? Look at me!"

How the fuck he made it to your house form the bunker you'd never know. Sheer stubborn grit. 

Rolling his head around, his eyes finally meet yours. He gave you a weak smile. Taking the last little bit of grit he had left in him to stand to his feet and lean outside the car, arms reaching for you instinctively. You didn't care that he was filthy, all that you cared about was that he was here, and he was safe.

"I probably need a bath," he mumbled as you lead him into the house. 

Your neighbor was watering the bushes between your two houses, looked at Dean like he'd seen a ghost. Dean gave him the finger and you had to cover the laugh that crept up to your lips. 

"Fucking nosy old man," he said as you reached the front door. "Do I look that rough?"

"Yeah babe, you look pretty bad." 

You couldn't help laughing at his sarcastic bitchface that he gave you, or well the best one he could in his current state. As long as Dean had his wit you knew he would be fine. 

----------------------------------------------------

Three hours later the two of you lay in bed, the room dark, all but the TV playing some stupid movie that you couldn't even remember the name of. Dean was sleeping peacefully with his head on your chest, and his arm and leg threw over you. You still were playing with his soft, freshly washed hair. Just enjoying the feeling of his body warming yours. 

You were pretty sure his ribs were fractured, still, he wouldn't go to a hospital, saying he'd had worse, and he could just sleep it off. He was always stubborn to a fault, but he was yours, and nights like this, just the two of you, it made all the waiting and fear worth it. He was worth it. He'd always be worth it...

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons​ @imabitch4jensen​

[betweensceneswriter]

The Madame, Part 6: La Rousse (The Redhead)

Previously:  Part 5: The Smugglers

The channel crossing to France brings nausea and memories…

The Madame: Table of Contents

Book 2 of Second Wife.  Jamie has left Laoghaire to find work in Edinburgh with Fergus.  Multi-viewpoint.  Lots of Claire memories.

Book 1–Second Wife

Mme Jeanne,

   Bonjour from your homeland.  We return a fortnight hence, bringing many lovely Guests with us.  We hope you will have Quarters for our Visitors, about thirty in all--five of Whom are to stay with you permanently, and the others to find Homes of their own.  We expect to reach your Establishment on the evening of the sixth and after a long Journey the Ladies will be weary.  We are hoping that you can have several discreet Gentlemen meet us to help us Escort them to their lodgings quickly.

    Now that you are prepared for those Guests, I beg that you may Prepare a room in the Garret for an additional Member of our party.  Elle n'a que onze ans--she is but eleven years of age, and is not to join your Jeune fille.  I simply need lodgings for her for the one Night, and then I intend to Travel on to the North to reunite her with her Family.  

Mr. Malcolm

He shouldn't have gone there. La Hopital de Angles’ brought up too many painful memories.

But it was right next to the chapel and the little graveyard where Faith was buried, and Jamie wanted to visit her… for Claire’s sake, certainly, but also for his own heart.

He was alone, as he had left Lesley, Hayes, and Fergus at Cousin Jared’s home.  

Jared was in his mid-seventies now--gray-haired and shrunken--and still a shrewd businessman. Despite Jamie’s letter requesting a kind bargain, it had taken quite some haggling to bring Jared down to a price at which they might actually turn a profit. Having finally agreed, though, now he only needed to secure the ship for their return voyage. The men had asked for the afternoon off, and he had consented, knowing he had solo plans of his own.

As he entered the cemetery, he took a deep breath.  

He felt guilty in Paris. Before Claire, guilt wasn't an emotion he much bothered himself with.  Growing up, he had always gone to confession with a spring in his step and a half-smile on his face.  On long travels as young men he and Ian had often amused themselves by debating which of the sins was most severe --which would keep them out of God’s favor or make the Blessed Virgin turn her back on them. 

Impure thoughts and self abuse were only venial sins--they would weaken the soul, but not kill the grace within.  Fornication, however, was a mortal sin--and that had been enough to keep Jamie from visiting the brothels like the other mercenaries did when they were fighting in France. 

Depending on the circumstances, killing another man could be a mortal sin.  But killing was a necessary evil at times in order for a man to protect his family.

A man might feel defending his honor was worth that necessary evil, Jamie thought with a shudder, but he must count the cost before allowing his pride to determine his actions. 

It was precisely that consideration that brought him such guilt in Paris. He had not counted the cost all those years ago when he had challenged Jack Randall to a duel even over Claire’s desperate objections.   To protect his own honor he had broken his wife’s heart--in essence murdering his first born--and then kept himself locked away while a bereft Claire had needed him after Faith was delivered stillborn.  

Jamie looked around the graveyard. Why had he come here? He could never recite enough Our Fathers and Hail Marys to assuage himself of this guilt. Nevertheless, he had come.

With one more sigh, Jamie stepped through the gate and walked toward his own broken heart.

Some of the grave markers were grand sarcophagi, white marble carved into the form of bowing angels, the Virgin Mother, or a patron Saint.  However, the grave marker he sought was humble, flat to the earth, hidden toward the rear near a copse of trees.

Jamie sat down when he reached Faith's gravestone.  He traced the name with his finger.

“Wee Faith,” he murmured aloud. ”I have thought about ye much since yer ma and I left France…”

He took a deep breath, gazing across the grassy expanse as if he could see through time.  “She said your hair… was a red halo... about your wee face.” With a hiccup of a laugh, Jamie shook his head sorrowfully, a smile playing about his lips. “For that I'm sorry,” he said seriously, patting the marble reassuringly, “No wee lassie should be saddled with orange hair.” He sighed, looking down at the stone, again running a finger gently over the carved letters. “I wish you had had dark curly hair, like your ma.  She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.” He furrowed his forehead. “Dinna fash yerself, though. My step daughter Joanie has red hair, and she is precious to me despite it.”

He shook his head.  He wasn't doing this very well.

“I came here, Faith,” he finally choked out, “to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my stubbornness, for my pride. I have done my penance, truly I have.  For I sent your ma and wee baby brother away through the stones to keep them safe.  It broke my heart, but I did it. I learned my lesson too late to spare you, but I spared them the pain of the years after the Rising.  I even kept myself hidden away at Lallybroch to keep the rest of my family safe. For seven years, mind. Seven years alone. Seven years to be sorry for it all.”

Jamie closed his eyes, for a moment feeling the devastating desolation of those years—all the years he spent in silence—so much time to rehearse in his mind what he would have done differently had he been able to do it all again. 

“Since you, wee lassie, I have not spared myself at the expense of another.  I turned myself in and went to Ardsmuir to keep yer Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian and their wee bairnies safe. And I stayed at Helwater as long as I could to watch over... your brother Willie.”

Jamie cleared his throat, taking a ragged breath.

“Will you forgive me, lass, for not protecting you? I didna put you and… Claire… above myself, and that was a terrible mistake.”

As if in answer to his question, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearest tree, making them dance in a way that drew Jamie's eyes upward.

It was at that exact moment that Jamie saw the flash of red.

He shook his head and looked down, certain the tears in his eyes were playing tricks on him.

But when he looked up again, the red hair was still there.

A small girl, thin as a wraith, was picking her way through the graveyard.  She was dressed in ragged gray clothing which made the nosegay in her hand and her fiery hair stand out even more vividly.

She did not see him. He wondered for a moment if she was a spirit.  He believed in the afterlife, and Claire had appeared to him often enough.  But he had never seen…

“Faith…” He breathed in a whisper.

But then he noticed that her eyes were focused on a plot of freshly turned earth some yards to the north of him. He could almost see her tremble--from cold or sorrow, he didn't know.

“Maman,” the child whispered, falling to her knees, laying the bouquet gently down.  

Her red curls spilled over her shoulders, obscuring her face.  She wasn't the correct age, but he had to know.  He stood slowly, so as not to frighten her.

“Petite fille,” he said quietly, “comment tu t'appelles?”  She looked up at him, her eyes swimming.

“What did ye say?” she asked. Her accent was Scots.

“What is your name, child?” He asked again.

She spoke so quietly that he couldn't hear her well.

“Martha?” He asked.

“No,” she said, clearer now.  “Maitha.”

He reached a hand toward her, and she shrunk back as if afraid.

“Keep yer hands from me,” she said firmly. “I amna starving.  I am no’ for sale.” Her voice quavered despite the brave jut of her chin.

“Your parents called you Maitha?” he asked again.  “Aye,” she agreed.  “I dinna ken who my da is. But my Gran--she's from Aberfeldy.  And she wrote and told me ma to name me Maitheanas.” She lifted her chin proudly. “And when I'm old enough and have enough money I shall travel to be wi’ my family in Scotland.”

“Maitheanas?” Jamie repeated.  He felt a tremble deep in his gut at the word. “Do ye ken, child, what maitheanas means in the Gàidhlig?” 

“Of course,” the little lass said, a hint of pride lifting her chin. “Me mam loved to tell that story.  For it meant a lot to her, coming from me Gran after she had run away from home wi’ me da.”  

She was leaving now, confidently tossing the information over her shoulder.  “Of course I ken what me own name means. Maitheanas means... forgiven.” 

[rosaxlunar]

❝ I NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO BE SOFT. I WAS ALWAYS BLOODY KNUCKLES AND SHARDS OF GLASS. I WANTED PEOPLE TO BE AFRAID OF HURTING ME❞

 &&. ( catarina volkov ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( she ) is a ( 32 ) year old ( alpha werewolf ) who resembles ( juliana harkavy ). ( she ) has been said to be ( determined & loyal ) but also quite ( vengeful & merciless ).with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( she ) has chosen to align with ( no one / the russian bratva ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( the sovietnik to the russian bratva ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole.

001 ☾ THE BASICS

NAME: Catarina Volkov AGE: Thirty Two Years Old DOB: May 8 - Taurus GENDER: Cis Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual  NATIONALITY: Dominican Russian  SPECIES:  Alpha Werewolf ALLEGIANCE: Russian Bratva THEME SONG: Desperado - Rihanna PERSONALITY TRAITS: ( + ) Charming, Determined, Protective & Loyal  ( - ) Stubborn, Vengeful, Merciless & Bloodthirsty.

002 ☾ IN DEPTH

When one has lost everything, fear ceases to exist. When the heart is crushed, defensive walls rise to protect whatever shattered pieces are left behind. and when a little girl comes back home to find the bloody wreckage that left her a complete orphan, when she sees the dead bodies of her mama, papa y hermanita… something inside her dies too. For the rest of her childhood she was but a shell of her former self. Forever haunted by the tragic loss, the sounds of her screams still echoed in her dreams, those cursed nightmares that immortalized the horrid sight. Sometimes she would close her eyes and the metallic smell of the blood pooling on the ground would invade her senses, making it hard to breathe. 

She used to have everything, born and raised in the outskirts of St. Petersburg, Russia, Catarina lived a relatively normal life, loud and colorful with the right amount of messy, but it was a blessing in an otherwise monotonous environment. Her papa would always say his prayers and thank god for bringing the dominican beauty that then became his wife, into his life. He would often tell Catarina stories of how he saved her from the bloodthirsty monsters and the following journey that led to them falling in love. Stories of how he learned spanish for her, and she learned russian for him, how even before the verbal communication was set, they still managed to understand each other without ever saying anything at all. These are the stories she would fall asleep to late at night before bedtime and then they became the stories she would repeat to her baby sister when she was introduced into her life. With stars in her eyes she would share the fantastical story of how love conquers all and how she and her sister were born from that love. She was happy and everything was wonderful…but that was when they were still alive.

If she had been any other child, the tragedy that left her with no parents, and no other family to take her in, would've seen to her being placed in the system. A more likely alternative would have seen her running and fending for herself in the wild. However she was the child of Anatoly Volkov, her papa had been a brodyaga for the brotherhood. Proudly serving under the previous Pakhan, he did his job and he did it well. He could have been more, could have made it to Kapitan, but her papa always put his family first, refusing to climb the ranks if it meant more time away from them. Her father’s devotion to the Bratva meant that instead of being left to fend for herself, someone in the brotherhood felt compelled to take her in, and so she became the ward of the Brava’s bookkeeper. This moved her life in a direction that was unforeseen. Being the bookkeeper’s ward meant she was taken deeper into the harshest reaches of Russia, where the prominent Valentina family lived. And it was there where Catarina met her best friend, the one person that was able to spark a flicker of her old light. Viktor Valentina. It was in his company where she learned about the truth of who was behind her family’s murder, and it was there where Catarina pledged her eternal loyalty to the brotherhood if they would help her get revenge for what was taken from her.

So she grew up, training and working beside Viktor, ignoring all the normal things kids and young adults would do, and instead perfecting her hand to hand combat, mastering various weapons training, perfecting her russian, spanish and english and focusing on becoming the strongest version of herself in order to fulfill the promise of revenge she had sworn. She blossomed from a scrawny girl with wild curls, into a woman who could skin anyone who tried to hurt her alive with her very claws. She embraced the power she had from her Alpha status, and on nights of the full moon, indulged in the rut with those brave enough to take her on. This never distracted her from her mission and on the twelfth anniversary of her family’s murder, as a twenty four year old soldier of the bratva, she was finally able to enact the revenge she had thirsted for so long, the goal that had given her purpose all those years. She hunted and slaughtered the very same though much older hunters who had taken her whole family from her. She also ensured to kill their families (if they had them)  for she knew better than anyone, how dangerous revenge could be, and would not tolerate anyone targeting the bratva for her revenge. She never once, felt an ounce of regret for it in her soul. They might have been her first set of kills, but the certainly weren’t her last and she didn’t discriminate based on species. If they were a target, they were eliminated. Were it not for the Valentina’s opening their hearts to include her in their little family, it’s quite possible Catarina could have been driven to a fully corrupt soul and mindless killings in her wake. For she enjoyed the rush of power that came from taking a life, a little too much. Instead she channeled that energy, that thrill, to climbing the ranks of the brotherhood and doing whatever was necessary to help the Bratva rise in power.She may be an orphan at heart, but she had found her pack and she was never letting go.

003 ☾ FUN FACTS

Timeline Recap: ages 0-12 happy with family, age 12 : family murdered by hunters, age 12 meets the Valentina’s, ages 12-24 trains and is indoctrinated into bratva, age 24 : retaliation after the hunters who killed her family, ages 24-32, climbs the ranks of the bratva till she is second in command and Viktor’s right hand. 

Not many know this, but Catarina is a classically trained pianist. A musician at heart, in the quiet moments between missions she also taught herself how to play the guitar,  the flute and other random instruments at her disposal. Sometimes she’ll just serve herself a bit of vodka and play and sing at the piano whenever she wants to not think about anything, or more accurately when she wishes to escape the nightmares that still plague her. 

Catarina is very protective over the Bratva, the brotherhood were her saviors, they kept her safe and when it comes to the Valentina’s they saved whatever piece of her heart she had left after her relentless pursuit for revenge. She’s willing to do anything in the name of Bratva, even if it comes at the cost of her soul. Bratva is the only family she has left.

While she is undoubtedly the closest to Viktor, not just as his right hand man, but also as his best friend, she also loves and cherishes Tatiana and Dimitri Valentina, so much so would be willing to risk her life for their safety, no questions asked. Which is why ever since Tatiana’s kidnapping, Catarina has been worried sick, her nightmares and flashbacks of the loss of her very own sister intermingling with the new horror for the Valentina’s. 

Catarina originally stayed behind when Viktor rushed to Amsterdam in search of his omega sister Tati. She stayed to help Dimitri with his new responsibilities and enforce his rule now that Viktor was out of Russia. Now weeks later, she is finally joining in on the search, and will do her utter best to find the youngest Valentina so they can all go back home.

004 ☾ WANTED CONNECTIONS

hookups/flings: my girl hasn’t had time or the frame of mind for love, not really, but she has needs and never goes too long without a little loving, so lets plot for this if you want!

bratva relationships: even tho she loves the bratva, that doesn’t mean she loves everyone in the organization, we can have them be friends, or be frenemies or be little shits to each other! I’m open to everything!

Literally any other kind of plot! I am open to all sorts of connections! 

[sierrza]

I'm cray but I make it seem like it's the new beautiful.My jobs won't last long. My relationships are miles and miles down a dark part in my head. I get restless and feel like if I spend enough time stuck in one place my life flashes before my eyes like this:Born without lungs I couldn't use without a machine helping me remember to breathe so 3 months in a box NICU/ gravesite in the hospital where other babies were dying next to me and I was operated on every day hating life then hallelujah handed off to my teenage full on scream throwing shit annoying kyle parents who know how to get pregnant but not turn into role models or parents fit to handle their child without going all warzone style 5 or 9 days of the week and making me listen to them from the bedroom trying not to pee my pants because if i left the safe zone i'd regret it and wow fuck after 9 years of that bs my time got split by weeks on and off with each psycho.. I couldn't choose families so instead these fuckers mysteriously disappear right when a girl needs to get their parents shitty guidance the most..Normal 12 year olds deal with the growing spells and emotional rollercoasters and hit the fan normally. My heart started failing around the time my friend died while I was on restriction once again for months for asking a fucking question thats when my dad mad lost respect from me when I got yelled at for being upset about it minutes after realizing he texted me with no answer before killing himself and mom just got up and left with her kids a milli miles away n signed her rights solely to my dad who emotionally abused the shit out of me all that summer and on till I turned 16. mom never called back so i raged like hell when i physically fought him back after craving one day to get him to try me and he threw hands before kicking me out his gf and kids got to live with him. After billions of drastic measures to get myself free from never going out and seeing friends and sharing xanax with his ex to handle life for a year and a half and then having to withdrawal when she left him when I didn't even know what that word meant.Life flashes before my eyes and I want to change the channel and find something else God let me take over.I got free written all over me nowGangsta rap and millions of quotes for motivation made me do it biiitch. Till I hit a wall and started arguing with myself about who made the turn into that wall instead of climbing it and fighting that fight bagging up the wasted time.Mad frets being an orphaned only child with 2 siblings and parents closed off like I'm not allowed into their mix like family vacations and pets dying or weekly interactions or whatevs. Last year my mom kicked me out for the 5th time and I fought with my boy dude all aggravated and tried draining all my blood out in a Linda Lane parking space. God came over to me and handed my bloody spine a surge of survival juice and then did it again when I was drunk and made my car do cartwheels and kicked up the dirt on miracles when I walked away without getting paralyzed or killing someone and even gave me some advice and asked me politely to dig elsewhere instead of at myself and my health and my luck with my freaky misguided baddie self.I'm promising the world a better bitch because a bitter bitch is bound to get barked at by emotionally abusive barking freaks.I'd rather do the barking. I'm living like it's hard to die cause it is but this past year I've gone from codependent as a left shoe, to mad at the ones who got me twisted into something I wasn't, to gifting myself the go get em attitude back, and asking me aggressive ass questions about how I want to leave the world when my time does come and my heart retires. As kind as ever I be asking it to show willingness to undoubtedly fill others hearts who are broken too as a requirement for my shenanigans I left on my loved ones hearts last summer.I'm not trying to die as much as I'm trying to stop feeling so extra extra alive when everything gets so overwhelming and I just wanna be with my friends souls and not my retched body that has to endure so much thinking and wondering and blah blah blah.I'm not trying to give up but I'm lifting up every stone to find another reason to keep going when I'm running with no direction. My retched life is as important to keep from enforcing extinction as my friends were as important to me before passing too quickly.This journey is a fucking trip now that I'm flashing ya'll with it all girls gone wild style. The dreams I have are vivid and I talk a bunch about all that makes up who I am and why I think that is.And I'm mad and weird and people get intimidated by my lack of structure because I have trauma inside me like black on a yellow highlighter but this post is proof of just a quarter of whats fueling the weird greatness that is me. And its strength doesn't go unnoticed so I'm thrilled to be of distraction to you from whatever it is going on where u are.You really can't say you know what it's like to try and treat life like it's gold when it's an empty farm and no one is around to feed you.You can't feel sorry for me if you know that if you were in my shoes you would have been sent back to a better place ages ago because there was no way in hell you fit in this tank of a lifetime.You really can't say you hang in there cause you have the lives of 7 cats because piles of survival follows you like a shadow you can't detach from..I am my parent I am my guardian and I have been acting like I'm out of control in hopes of being acknowledged and loved for it but I'm mostly losing daylight doing that so I am forcing acknowledgment with this post and practicing self love for the science experiment that is the first child/girlfriend/friend that no one wants to remember having.This is not easy being single and wishing you could move vicariously through a partner but you're making that partner be you for once.. I don't know what to do with my hands..don't make that sexual I was just referencing taladega nightshahah andI love my parents they just face their children like they face their demons.. differently.Thank god I got all these prayer angels helping me see the light cause I'd be a dark lil somethin else if I didn't! God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiersTop tier immortality might have accumulated in here too idfk yet tho hopefully not ha ha ha (nervous laughter) (im really 900 years old but I forgot my ID to prove it to you)that's all for now.

[linaofthemyscira]

Wish Come True (Jason Todd’s Birthday 2k18)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Words: 1636

Prompt: Sort of a soulmate AU sort of not. You’ll see it’s super cute I promise ;D

Warnings: cursing, abusive boyfriends

A/N: This was super last minute I moved into my college dorm and well, had a limited amount of time to write this so here we are.

☆ ☆ ☆

The air was humid and warm the night of August 16th in Gotham City as Jason inconspicuously made his way to his safehouse. He wasn’t particularly happy about what day it was, but that didn’t stop an influx of cards from arriving at his apartment that day.

“Happy Birthday Jason!” they all read. He had shoved the cards into a drawer in his nightstand and tried to forget about them but that sentence kept coming back to him, haunting him even when he wasn’t thinking about it. It had been 4 years since he came back to Gotham, yet he still felt like celebrating his birthday was a mistake.

As he arrived, he got out his keys and unlocked the door to his safehouse, ready to crack open his case files and investigate his most recent venture: Don Falcone.

But that’s not what happened. The lights suddenly came on and he heard two voices shout at him.

“SURPRISE!” they yelled in unison.

Of course. It was Roy and Kori. Jason sighed as he shut the door behind him and walked towards his desk, dropping his bag on top.

“Jason, we are throwing you a surprise party! Are you not happy?” Kori asked.

“Yeah dude, it took us forever because the key I copied from you was having a tough time unlocking the door,” Roy explained. “The least you could do is show a little smile.”

“Guys, I appreciate it, but I’m not really feeling my birthday this year,” Jason said as he took off his shoes.

“You’ve said that every year since you came back to Gotham,” Roy stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Jason, is there something you have against birthdays?” Kori asked as she sat on his bed.

“Not birthdays, Kori. Just mine in particular,” Jason told her.

“Jaybird, it’s been nine years. You can’t hold some kind of grudge against your birthday forever,” Roy put his hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation, but he knew Roy was right. Jason didn’t even get to celebrate his 21st birthday with a big bash like he had dreamed of when he was a kid. Instead, he sat at his desk with a cupcake and a single candle and sang happy birthday to himself.

Now he was 24, and he knew it was time to view his birthday as a normal thing and not something to dread every year.

“It’s just hard, Bruce has all the fucking news channels playing some ‘In Memory of Jason Todd’ video every year for the anniversary of when I died AND my birthday. I’m getting tired of it. I’ll move on when Bruce moves on,” Jason joined Kori on the bed, laying down with his hands behind his head.

“At least have some cake to celebrate,” Kori offered.

“Fine,” Jason sat up and faced the cake that Kori brought out to him, candles and “Happy Birthday Jason” and everything. The two began singing to him, and Jason couldn’t help but smile a little when they reached “Happy Birthday Dear Jason”.

As they reached the end, Jason closed his eyes and thought about something to wish for. When he finally decided, he opened his eyes and blew out his candles in one fell swoop.

“Yay! What did you wish for?” Kori asked.

“It won’t come true if I tell you,” Jason winked, “now pass a plate, let’s eat some cake!”

The three drank beer and ate cake for a while before Roy suggested they go do something fun for Jason’s birthday.

“What, like go to a club? A bar party?” Jason asked.

“Let’s do 24 things that you want to do before you…” he began.

“Die? Again?” Jason asked.

“No, 24 things you wanted to do before you previously died. Kind of like a last farewell to the old Jason,” Roy explained.

Jason and Kori looked at each other, reluctant to go through with the idea, but they had nothing else better to do, really.

“Okay. That sounds fair. I’ll make a list of 24 things I wanted to do before I died and we ALL have to do them. No backing out,” Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I’m very excited to see what you have planned, Jason,” Kori grinned.

“Oddly, me too,” Roy said.

“Let’s do this.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“I’m fucking leaving.”

“Like hell you are.”

“Fuck off I’m DONE taking orders from you.”

Chad, your now ex-boyfriend, had done it yet again: he came home drunk and hit you, simply for taking his clothes out of the dryer.

That was the last straw. You had put up with it for long enough, and now you were ready to drop him faster than you could say the word “apple”. You had no idea why you continued dating him when you knew his abuse was wrong. Maybe it was because when things were calm, he told you what you wanted to hear. Maybe it was because when the going got tough, he comforted you.

But that wasn’t enough. He clearly didn’t respect you and you had an underlying suspicion that he was fucking other people. You couldn’t and didn’t want to take another hit. So that’s where we find you.

Packing, or angrily throwing, your belongings into your bags. You planned to stay at your best friend’s apartment until you could find your own place.

“Listen to me you bitch--” he began, but all he got was your fist connecting with his face.

“Don’t fucking call me a bitch, you shitbrick!” you yelled. Once you got the clothes you needed, you went into the living room to take what was yours.

“HEY, THAT’S MINE!” Chad screamed at you.

“IT’S MINE I PAID FOR IT!” you screamed back.

Chad unhappily watched you as you gathered the rest of your items and made your way to the door.

“I hope you enjoy your PATHETIC life as an INANE ASSHOLE!” you shouted at him before you slammed the door behind you.

As you walked down the hall, you choked back tears, refusing to show any signs of vulnerability.

Meanwhile…

☆ ☆ ☆

Jason, Kori, and Roy were skipping down the sidewalk, tipsy, giggly and without a care in the world. Jason had forgotten about all his problems and worries and was living life on his 24th birthday.

“Shhhhhh, guys, we have to be quiet, people live here,” Jason, the least tipsy of the group, shushed his friends.

“OoOoOoOh you’re right,” Kori giggled.

“Kori! Come on, baby, just shhhhhhh,” Roy slurred as he pressed a finger to her lips.

Jason laughed at his friends as he kept walking, wondering where they would go next.

Suddenly you burst out of your apartment building, heading for the curb to call a taxi, but you were so blinded by rage (and your watery eyes) that you didn’t even see Jason and crashed into him. Both of you landed on the sidewalk in a loud thump, causing Kori and Roy to look at you with wide eyes.

“Owwww,” you held your wrist.

“You’re in pain? Try having 4 bullet wounds in 4 separate locations on your body; one on each arm, one on your leg and one in your torso,” Jason absentmindedly revealed. Once he realized that you were a stranger and not someone who knew who he really was, he mentally cursed at himself.

“What? Are you some kind of assassin? Why would you have...four bullet wounds?” you winced as you tried to move your wrist, but it was still hurting.

“Got caught in the crossfire of a street fight, don’t worry about it,” he got up and rubbed his arm. You got up after him, holding your wrist. The two of you stood in silence, not looking at each other to avoid any awkwardness.

After a few minutes, the both of you finally made eye contact, and everything changed. The familiarity of Jason flooded your brain, as did the familiarity of you flood his brain. Something about him made you feel safe and relaxed like he could take care of you in the worst moments of your life.

As for Jason, he couldn’t help but be a little freaked out. He hadn’t figured that it would actually happen, but it did and he was slightly terrified of what that meant. But maybe it was a sign, maybe this was supposed to happen. Perhaps, it was fate you would meet. Everything was finally falling into place.

“Are you okay?” he asked you.

“I-I’m fine. My wrist hurts but I’m sure my friend has an ice-pack at her apartment,” you shrugged.

“You--you don’t live with your best friend?” Jason asked.

“No, I used to live with my ex-boyfriend, but that piece of shit couldn’t channel his anger properly so...we’re over,” you told the stranger.

“You mean he...he hit you?” Jason was getting increasingly angry. You nodded in shame.

“I’m sorry...um…” Jason paused for your name.

“[Y/N],” you told him.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. No one should be abused like that. Ever. Why don’t you come back to my place? You can rest there for the night,” Jason offered. “I just met you.” was what you wanted to say, but you felt like you had known Jason for a hundred years. There was something trustworthy about him, so you decided to accept.

“Sure. Thank you…” you paused for his name.

“Jason,” he replied.

“Jason. Thank you, Jason,” you told him. Jason picked up your bags and told Kori and Roy that he was going to go back home with you and that they could pick their adventure later. The two reluctantly agreed and started their own journey home.

As Jason escorted you back to his apartment, he found himself thinking about one thing: how his wish to find someone who could change his life came true.

☆ ☆ ☆

TAGGING:

Master/Permanent:

@ladyalexa @impulsivesuperrobin @batarangtotheheart @little-lesbean-queen @where-is-my-jason-todd @makeup-wonder-woman @jasontoddandhisguns @dick-graysns  @solis200213 @books-netflix-and-pizza @dramatic-and-young  @ioczurma @sarcasmismyfirstlove @food-flowers-friends @princessonly2 @the--iceberg--lounge @timsflannels @breadhoods @imaginingadifferentlife @letmestargaze36 @san-penedo @spacedragonsattack @spiderling-tom @redhoodsdoll @hmushkova  

Jason:

@bvckysmanbun @starryrevelations @sonoflac @boosyboo9206 @thegeekwhocantwrite  @jason-todd-rh @southsidefandoms  @jaydinnelisee @dc-hoe

[sonofadeanwinchester]

Not A Dream (Finale)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

Summary: You keep hearing voices from people who are not there.

Words: 1651

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Swearing && sadness

A/N: WE MADE IT TO THE END GUYS what a journey

***gif not mine

Tags: @221bshrlocked @potterhead1265 @pawallday @shellymaesworld @titty-teetee @fucmeupfandoms @sarahp879 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @of-rin-and-carlile @ab-haya @jhangelface0523 @chameerah @myboyfriendgiriboy @buckysboobear @bornfortherainydays @katielu-blog @bbysaniii @i-should-probably-be-asleep-rn

I sat on the couch, leaning into Sebastian's side as he flicked through the channels. I had been a nervous wreck for almost a week now after hearing the car in my head. The flash of light that came at me was terrifying, so realistic. I could've sworn that I was standing in the middle of the street but when I dropped to the floor, I was safe in my apartment.

"Hey love, wanna watch friends?"

I shrug. "Whatever you want."

I felt him shift in position so that most of myself was on his lap. "Baby, what's going on?"

I shrug, again, not sure what he meant. "What do you mean?"

He scoffs. "Since last week when you saw the bright light, it's like you're not the same person. Somethings wrong."

I nod, moving so I am facing him now. "Fucking right something's wrong. Sebastian, I saw a car driving at me inside our apartment. I heard tires squeal in my brain. I heard you talking to a doctor when you were go-"

Darling, I'm back. I just went to grab some coffee.

"What did you say?"

He furrowed his brow. "Uh, nothing. I was listening to you talk."

Remember that time when you got so nervous around Chris the first time that you spilled an entire cup of coffee on my crotch?

My heart jolted and I felt tears prick my eyes.

I really wish you would wake up, baby. I miss you so much.

I stood, running my hands through my tangled hair. "Jesus. I-I can't do this anymore."

Sebastian stood, slinking to my height and kissing my nose. "Baby, what's going on?"

I close my eyes. "The voice, it's in my head again."

"The doctor or mine?"

"Uh, yours."

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his smiled painfully. "Baby, you gotta know that I'm not talking. There is no doctor here."

I shot a anger glare in his direction. "I fucking know that! Jesus, you think I'm insane."

He shook his head a little too quickly. "I don't." When I rolled my eyes, his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. "I don't think you're insane."

Mr Stan. The doctors voice spoke now, fainter than his. It's been nearly three months.

"Three months?"

Sebastian's eyes looked confused, his lip curling. "Three months since what?"

"Shh." I closed my eyes trying to narrow in on the voice but they were gone. "Fuck." I focused in on Sebastian's face, watching his expressions change. My eyes went weird and he started to go fuzzy. I rubbed them but it didn't help. "Sebastian." My voice came out panicked and scared.

"What's wrong?"

"Sebastian, I can't see you. I-" then everything went black.

The only feeling I could comprehend was choking. I tried to breath but something was in the way, something blocking my throat. I tried to talk but my throat felt like sandpaper. Help me! Someone! No matter how much I yelled, nothing came out and no one came to my rescue. I mustered up all the breath I could and coughed, feeling the air spring around something cylinder like a tube. "(Y/N)?" Sebastian was at my side in two seconds flat. "NURSE! Jesus Christ, I need a nurse in here!"

I opened my eyes, his panicked blue ones staring down at me. The next thing I know, someone with brown hair is holding my down as I struggle to sit up while a petite blonde man starts pulling at the tube in my throat. I felt myself gagging, bile threatening to come up. When the tube was gone, I sucked in a breath of air as if my lungs had never been exposed to oxygen. My panting was long and deep, like a dog in the summertime. "Seb-" it came out as a hoarse whisper. 

He poured some water, placing his hand on the back of my neck, helping me swallowing the refreshing liquid. "It's okay, baby girl. I'm here."

I swallowed a few gulps and fell back against the pillow. "What's going on? Where am I?"

Sympathy fell on his face like a blanket and he kissed my forehead. "Baby, you're in the hospital."

I shook my head, but something was holding my neck still. "What's wrong with my neck?" Bringing a shaky hand to my neck, I felt a brace holding it in place. "Oh my god. Why is this here?" Tears swamped my eyes and streams traveled my cheeks. "Sebastian! Answer me."

He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He grasped my hand and kissed my palm. Just then, a familiar voice came in the room. "Mr Stan, it seems your wife as woken up."

Doctor? 

Sebastian's voice dropped to a whisper. "She doesn't remember the accident."

He shrugged. "It's to be expected in trauma patients." He stepped closer to me and smiled. "Mrs Stan, my name is Dr Crow." I tried to smile but my whole body shot suddenly with pain. "Mrs Stan, do you remember anything?"

I cleared my throat, speaking quietly. "I, uh. I remember waking up in my apartment but I-I, uh, didn't know who Seb-sebastian was." My head was fuzzy, pounding from the lack of oxygen. He nodded slowly, writing things down on a clipboard. "I didn't know anything or anyone."

Sebastian came close to me, kissing just above my eyebrow. "Honey, none of that happened."

The doctor pulled him aside. "Mr Stan, it's crucial we ease her into reality. It seems as if maybe your wife was experiencing a very vivid dream while unconscious." He smiled again, leaning against my bed. "Continue, please."

"He kept telling me that he was my husband but I didn't remember him. I didn't know why I was in New York or- something about my parents living away."

Sebastian licked his lips. "Doc, her parents have been dead for almost two years."

I felt a sob grow in my chest. "My parents are dead?" 

The doctor politely asked Sebastian to keep comments to either himself or quiet until I was finished. "Did you ever get your memories back?"

I nodded, best I could with the brace holding my neck in place. "Three days after I woke up, or whatever, I was getting really bad migraines. I kept waking up throughout the night, my head pounding until the final time I woke up, I remembered everything. The miscarriage, the cheating."

"Cheating? Miscarriage?" Sebastian's face shot back. "What?"

"You cheated on me."

He shook his head, worry filling his eyes. "Baby, I've never even looked at another woman."

I sighed, relief filling my soul. Your mind made that up, (Y/N). Your worse fear playing, bouncing around your silly little mind.

I asked Sebastian to help me sit up properly, drinking cold water through a straw. "Our marriage was falling apart. We were two ships just passing in the night." Sebastian kissed my hair and cocked his head to the side, listening. "It seemed to real."

The doctor nodded. "Mrs Stan. (Y/N), if I may. Three months ago, you were involved in a hit and run just outside of Brooklyn. You have suffered from a broken femur and fibula on the right leg. A broke tibia on the left leg, also a dislocation of the kneecap. Your clavicle has been shattered into four pieces, the humerus bone on the left arm is broken in two spots. When your body hit the ground, your cranium smashed on the pavement causing the comatose state. The mandible is fractured and the temporal bone is dented."

"Oh my god."

"All things considered, you've healed quite well."

"I was in a coma for three whole months?" I sighed, the sound shaky. "Sebastian. I heard you talking to me. Not at first but after a while, I heard you."

He smiled, a tear sliding down his cheek. "God, I missed you so much."

"I heard you asking, begging me to wake up." 

He kissed my forehead. "I'm so glad you woke up, (Y/N). I was going out of mind waiting for you."

"Doc, how long till a full recovery?"

He shifted his weight between feet. "That's a bit more ... complicated. You see, we didn't expect you to wake up, let alone this soon. Most patients with the kind of damage to their skeleton with a comatose state, very rarely regain consciousness left alone be able to remember their experiences and speak fluently."

"What do you mean remember their experiences?"

He nodded. "There has been cases where people in a coma, have experienced slight life changes. For instance, a woman roughly your age, went into a coma and was asleep for one full year. When she woke up, she explained to her husband, that she had met someone and married them in her 'dream'. She was very devastated when she woke up and realized that she wasn't, in fact, married to this man. Six months after she went home, she filed for divorce."

"Jesus." Sebastian cussed under his breath. "Did you marry another man?"

I shook my head. "No, I didn't. We were still married but our marriage was on the rocks. Things were not good. We had a miscarriage, you turned to another woman and I threw myself into my work. I honestly, think that neither of us were truly happy." He closed his eyes, running a hand over his tired face. "It was so realistic that I can't tell what was fake was what is real. The way I feel right now, laying in this bed, feeling your hand on mine. The doctor speaking clearly to me, it seems to real but-"

"The dreams you may have experienced while in your state are going to feel very real. It will be difficult for you to determine what is real and what is dream for a while."

Sebastian looked down at me. "Baby, this is not a dream."

[lunri-moonguardian]

Meeting the Shadowed Man

As Lunri traversed through Kalimdor and into Desloace, she'd find there wasn't too many people, much to be in expected in a place called Desolace. A dear friend of hers, a fellow Draenei named Velomet, had told her she might find someone to teach her how to wield shadow here. She now sign of the man, however a traveling druid mentioned the sighting of a 'shadowed man' over in Karnum's Glade, who apparently had been living there for quite some time. They mentioned that he'd been particularly unstable as of late, though she got the impression he was generally well liked by everyone there; the abrupt change in his behaviour having been rather recent and sudden. The kind Druid described the man’s home to her, and she went on her way. Thankfully, the Glade was only a short distance away.

Lunri landed safely in Karnum’s Glade, her mismatched eyes, one the distinct gold glow of a Lightforged, and the other resembling that of a humans was a dull grey, scanned the premises intently. She took note of the lack of citizens with a satisfactory grunt, and peered at the house that had been described to her. "He better not bloody well try to kill me," she mumbled as her hooves thudded up the paved stones to the entryway. "Uh, hello? Is anyone home here?"

At first there was no response, not a speck of light being being able to be seen inside. Lunri chewed at her bottom lip as nothing happened, almost wondering if she had the wrong house. Suddenly, the door would open, though just a crack. The voice that spoke was soft spoken. "...state your purpose for being here, please." She could see nobody speaking, just a pitch black room.

"I seek an instructor."

A lull in silence was made. "...of -what-?"

She took a deep breath, and hurriedly proffered the speech she had gone over in her head countless times. "I seek to become a Shadow priest. It is all I have left." Her fingers worried at the edge of her shirt, but her voice came out steady, and confident.

Another moment of silence was made, now curiousity creeping into his voice. "...who sent you here...?"

Unsure if she was making an hedge way, or just wasting her time, she practiced patience and kept on. "A man who's name I will not disclose said he had seen you nearby, and thought I would find what I seek here."

Perhaps the most intense moment of silence she'd experienced yet would resonate between her and the door...and it would slowly open. "I will speak with you.", the voice uttered. A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released from her lungs as she stepped through the threshold. The light filtering in from the outside would show a well kept bed in front of her, with a tattered shroud of an ancient race plastered above the headboard. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your time.”

The sound of some moving dishes could be head off to the side, followed by liquid being poured. As she moved up further, she saw a robed figure in a rather symbolic attire slowly sipping from a steaming cup, the upper half of his face obscured from view. Pointed ears could be seen poking out from his cowl, but was quite tall, the size of a Kaldorei, she estimated. For all she knew, it could be a Sin’dorei, or one of the many other Elf sub-races. The head wouldn't turn to her, though it would gesture to a cup upon the table that was likely awaiting her arrival. "Speak your tale to me."

"Oh, as you wish." Not willing to argue with the man, she sat down and sipped her tea. "It's quite long, mind you. I will start where it matters most."

She'd receive no gesture to go on, only the quiet speculation of what was likely her being analyzed quite critically from beneath his cowl. As her eyes grew adjusted to the dark, she saw  it was acually a quaint little home, with a small kitchen and study...however there were trinkets from all over the world littered all about the home. From Azuremyst, to the Exodar, to some crude troll fetishes, all the way to human craftsmanship...it seemed that the man was incredibly worldly and open minded, to have so many things adorning his home. Her sharp eyes also noticed a thick, bound tome on his study desk, looking like it was quite taken care of. The Various trinkets brought many questions to mind, but she held them back with an iron will. “Right then. I was a Monk for many years, until an accident befell me. My fiancee's brother, abducted me, and I was pregnant at the time with a baby girl. For months..."She paused, trying to hold down her emotions. "For months, I was tortured like a play thing. He made sure to keep my strength weak enough so I couldn't escape. I was near death day after day, until finally he..." she paused again, her eyes becoming slightly misty. A vacant, echoed tone came over her voice, as if she wasn't in reality. "He laid me down on the cold, stone table. I was so weak, he didn't bother with restraints. My abdomen was cut open, blood and searing pain were all I could feel and see. Through the haze, I saw him hold Sha'Tari up and stab a soul dagger through her heart. I distantly remember screaming, until my throat was raw and blackness overtook me." She sat there, not moving. Was she even aware of reality right now?

And so her tale was spun before him, painting a picture of the sad reality that encompassed the woman's life. The stoic look upon his mouth remained the same throughout it, occasionally taking a sip of his drink in an elegant manner. "...so you too have felt the loss.", he'd mutter quietly, looking over towards where his bound book lay. The corners of his mouth could be seen twitching into a frown, then back to stoic. "You're breaking at the seams recalling it. Your mind is in shambles as you struggle to pick up the pieces of what happened. As you are now, you stand little chance of pursuing the path you walk. While Light is soothing and mends weakness, the dark would take advantage of it and inflict greater harm. To that end, a sound mind is required. Temperament...is not a pleasant process. Will you still pursue it?"

A look of determination passed over her features. "When I said I have nothing left, I meant it. I cannot channel, or even sense Chi anymore. I cannot protect myself, or my order. I survived being Lightforged, I survived being held captive and losing my child and fiancee in a few months span, I survived watching my parents die, and I survived losing my sister. I will survive, and conquer this, too. I stand a better chance than any before me. This I swear to you." A slightly shaky hand went over her horns, where Shadow runes lay carved into them. "I am already familiar with the effects of Shadow. I understand wielding it will bring me pain. Still, I wish to continue forward. Will you allow me to fulfill my duty? My purpose?"

He'd move over to the table, placing the empty cup down and looking down at her, entrancing blue lights from his eyes would be seen, blessed by Voidfire. "Surviving and enduring mental strain are two different things. If your mind is lost, yet you live, you may as well not be living at all." An intense looking weapon was attached to his side, adorned with more Elven runes and glyphs upon it that positively radiated Shadow magic. "For so long my art was scorned amongst my people, women no less. To find one at my doorstep pleading for guidance on the matter...it is a sign. Of what, I am not sure. But if you feel you're willing to endure further strain to get to your goal..." He'd make his way to the middle of the room, slowly peering over his shoulder. "...well then you'd best prepare yourself."

Hope, for the first time in a while, blossomed in her bosom. Knowing it was a serious matter all the same, she suppressed her smile, and kept her face straight. She too finished off her drink, and rose to follow the man. "If I am a sign, then let it be. There was a saying my mother used to say... "The wheel, (time) weaves as the wheel wills." (Wheel of Time, by Robert Jordan). I live by this in her memory. Whatever is to happen, I will accept. Thank you... Uh, what should I call you?"

His head would tilt in her direction more. The sound of hope filling the air, the eagerness displayed, the verse of a loved one. Despite all that had befallen him, seeing others struggling against the chains of fate always moved the ancient heart that beat within his chest. "Salaeth Starshatter.", he'd reply. "And you...'pupil'?"

She offered him her gloved hand, a smile fighting its way to the surface. If he looked closely, he would notice the edges of her eyes crinkle in response, as if smiling. "I am Lunri, of the order Te'Amun."

Not many smiles were left in him these days, but he'd outstretch his hand and return the gesture she offered. Just from the touch alone, her Light-infused senses could feel just how infused with Shadow he truly was. Yet despite the feeling, she couldn't feel any looming dread behind his actions. She wrote mental note of what her senses told her, and noticed how the Light reacted to his Shadow, as if edging her to back away. Of course, she ignored it’s warning. The handshake was firm, simple, and ended as their hands dropped. "Unless you plan to make the journey out here on a daily basis, it would be best if you stayed in this vicinity. Allowing your mind too much reprieve will not cement any teachings."

"I will hate to leave my farm, but perhaps I can hire a caretaker in the meantime. I assume finding a good home nearby will not be an issue," she stated, as if commenting on the lack of people around the vicinity. "When can we start? " she asked eagerly.

"The morning. One of the Druids outside can see that you find shelter. And though I caution against reprieving your mind of too much stress, I will advise this. Find something material that brings you comfort. It need not be expensive or large, but sentimental. That alone will be the cornerstone for what you are about to embark on."

The apt student she always was, she listened intently to his every word. "I will, Salaeth. I already have something in mind. I will have to travel back home for it, and some necessities, but I promise to be here in the morning. I'm up as soon as the sun rises. What time should I come here?"

He would move over to his desk and pick up the bound tome, clutching it tightly in his grasp as he moved over to his bed, taking a seat as a gloved hand ran down the cover. "Nine will be fine. I'll tend to meals that will be required."

Taking it as her cue to leave, Lunri bowed deeply at the waste, her hands clasped in front of her head, and eyes to the ground. "Thank you, I will be here promptly. Enjoy your evening, master." Without another word, she walked outside to her mount.