#ive never been this vulnerable because ive never cared about anything like this

[too-much-boobus]

i loathe being this fucking pathetic, but i dont know how to stop without resorting to playing hard to get, which i morally disagree with. i don't fucking know. i always figure shit out so what's taking me so long? am i actually still hoping they'd like it? even if im happy it makes them feel secure it doesnt make them like me any more, and i need to be a little selfish to get what i want. i need to stop being so disgusting and play everything right.

[youssefguedira]

I wish you would write a fic about irreconcilable artistic differences on a movie set between Joe and Nicky.

not really irreconciliable as in not solvable at all but you know i had fun with this

Joe squeezes his eyes shut, covering his face with both hands, and leans forward. His shoulders tremble uncontrollably. He takes a short, sharp breath, and another, and another, but he can’t quite seem to get enough into his lungs. There’s a lump in his throat and a weight in his stomach. He leans forward with a low, wounded sound and–

“Cut,” Nicky says softly. Then, because it takes Joe a second to hear him: “Joe, stop.”

Slowly, Joe raises his head. Wipes at his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. Nicky’s already up, frowning ever so slightly as he looks at the camera. 

“What is it this time?” Joe manages. His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat once or twice. Nicky doesn’t look up. The clock on the nightstand reads 01.34, but Nicky’s changed it a few times over the course of the shoot. He has no clue what time it really is, only that it’s dark outside.

It’s just the two of them in the room. Nicky had wanted to keep this one small, just him and Joe and the camera. The apartment they’re in is nice, if a little empty, though Joe supposes that’s the point. They’re in the bedroom, Joe sitting cross-legged on the bed, shirtless, sheets bunched up over his lap, a phone lying on the nightstand behind him. One entire wall of the room is taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window which lets the moonlight in, though there’s a few low lights set up behind Nicky to send bars of silver light across the bed, because the natural light hadn’t quite been strong enough for the effect Nicky wanted. It’s otherworldly; it’s beautiful. 

Nicky still isn’t looking at him, so Joe says again, “What?” It comes out a little harsher than he means it to, but it gets Nicky’s attention.

Nicky runs one hand through his hair. Joe can’t see him well, not with the light behind him and the shadows in the room. “I don’t know,” Nicky says. “It’s missing something.”

Joe has worked with Nicky enough times before. It’s not that he doesn’t like working with him - they’re friends - but he can’t fucking read him, and so after the sixth take of the same scene he can’t help but take it a little personally. 

Joe reaches for the bottle of water hidden just under the bed and takes a long drink, mostly to keep himself from snapping. What time is it? “I can try again, but I can’t do this indefinitely, Nicky.”

“I know, I know,” Nicky says, fidgeting again with the camera, “it’s not you, it’s just–” 

“What else could it be?” Joe interrupts. He’s not stupid. This scene doesn’t work if he can’t get it right, which means the entire film doesn’t work if he can’t get it right. More than anything else, this one depends on him. No music, no camera movement, no dialogue, nothing but him and the camera. And he wants to do it right, he loves this project almost as much as Nicky does, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest and he’s spent the last however-many-hours having a near-complete breakdown over and over again and it’s still not right. And Joe doesn’t know what it is he’s doing wrong.

“I don’t know,” Nicky says quietly. Now he is looking at Joe, and Joe can’t tell if he’s disappointed, or angry, or – or what. He’s perfectly expressionless, as always. 

Joe loves this job. And he wants to get this right. But it doesn’t mean it’s not one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, and he’s tired.

“I don’t have much more left in me, Nicky,” he says, and this time he does snap. He wipes at his eyes again, can’t look at Nicky. He’s supposed to be making himself vulnerable, above all in this scene, but suddenly he can’t stand the way Nicky’s looking at him. “Pass me my hoodie.”

“Joe–”

“I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.” He kicks the sheets off and gets tangled trying to do it, grabs his hoodie when Nicky offers it, pulls it over his head in one fluid motion and gets out of there as soon as he can. Thankfully, there’s only Andy and Nile in the other room, Andy lying back on the couch with her feet up and Nile perched on the arm of it. They both look up at Joe as he enters, both look like they’re about to ask, and Joe can’t stand it, can’t be in here a second longer, can’t–

“We are done for the day, I think,” Nicky says behind him, startling Joe. He hadn’t realised Nicky was there.

Andy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. It’s already the second day of trying to shoot this scene: they’re running the risk of falling behind schedule. 

“We’ll find something else to do tomorrow,” Nicky says. “I’ll look over everything tonight. We will try this again on Monday.”

Andy and Nile look at each other. Nile shrugs. 

“Get some rest, Joe,” Nicky says. 

Joe shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t say a word.

–--------------------------------

He doesn’t get called in the next day at all, and he doesn’t interrogate it too closely. Takes the day off, pretty much, because they’ve only really got one scene left to film, and there’s not much more he can do for that. Nicky had wanted to leave it to the last, and Joe had agreed, at the time.

At about nine pm, someone knocks on his hotel room door, which is unusual on a day where they don’t have a night shoot to do. When he opens it, Nicky is on the other side. Joe lets him in without a word. 

“I wanted to apologise,” Nicky says, standing in the middle of the room and looking as uncomfortable as Joe’s ever seen him. “For last night. I was pushing you too hard, and I should not have done.”

Joe closes the door behind him. Nicky fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Sit down,” Joe says. 

Nicky does, settling himself on the edge of Joe’s bed, not quite looking him in the eye. Joe joins him, after a moment. 

“At the risk of sounding cliche,” Nicky says, “it’s not you, it’s me.”

Joe laughs, mostly because the phrase sounds so strange coming from Nicky and also because out of everything he’d thought Nicky might say, he hadn’t expected that. 

Nicky smiles slightly, too. Then he gets up and heads for the minibar. “Mind if I have a drink?”

Joe shakes his head. Nicky gets out a little bottle of wine, glances at the label, and takes a swig straight from the bottle without bothering to get a glass. 

“I can’t seem to get it right,” Nicky says. “You know I wrote almost fifteen different versions of that scene?”

The scene in the script itself is barely a page long. “No,” Joe says. 

Nicky nods. Rubs a hand over his face. “I wanted it to feel real. I thought if I could get it right, it would… help, somehow. I don’t know.”

It’s the exact same reason Joe said yes before he even read the script, when the whole thing was just an idea in Nicky’s head, when they were talking about it over drinks at Andy’s and Joe was in love with the idea almost immediately. He knew exactly why Nicky was writing it; he knows, now, exactly why it needs to be right. But at the same time – “I don’t know if that’s possible, Nicky.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.” He crosses back over to sit beside Joe again, takes another drink from the bottle. “But there is something missing, and I cannot seem to find it. And so it does not feel real. And I know this is not easy for you.”

“It’s not,” Joe says plainly. 

“But you know,” Nicky continues, “I could not have trusted anyone with this but you. If you had not said yes, I would not have done this.”

That, Joe didn’t know: he knows he’d been Nicky’s first choice, but he’d assumed that’s because they know each other well enough already. But it makes sense: the reason Nicky wrote the script is the same thing they’d bonded over. 

Even still, it’s a lot. “I don’t know if I can do it the way you want,” Joe says. 

Nicky looks up at him from where he’s been running his fingers over the label on the bottle absentmindedly. “If you want to stop, I can–”

“No,” Joe says quickly. “But I don’t think it’s ever going to be exactly the way you felt.”

Nicky looks away. “It is a lot to ask,” he says. “I know this.”

Joe doesn’t think; just reaches over and takes Nicky’s hand. “I know,” he says. “Trust me.”

Nicky takes a deep breath. Then he nods. "Okay."

[pears-trinkets]

.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[kingjasnah]

idk if this has been discussed but i do wonder if there was a way jasnah could have won over fen. jasnah calls her very emotionally intelligent and she only started responding positively to dalinar in ob once he got truthfully frustrated with her and did some yelling and idk i wonder if jasnah had set aside all her philosophical talk and made a passionate and emotional plea if fen would have been more receptive. but of course jasnah wouldn't do that

short answer: agreed. long answer: ive been wanting to talk about this for weeks. so you're getting kinda a long one.

jasnah is obviously one of my favorite characters and that's almost why i was clapping and cheering during the taravangian takedown--like all of her flaws and everything that makes her compelling was completely cracked open. if jasnah cares about anything at all, it's how she is perceived. we dont know what happened to her when she was a child and we dont know why it seems that she was institutionalized or at least in confinement for a period of her youth but we do know that every single thing she does is a measure to keep her from never going back to the kind of powerlessness she felt back then. i remember shallan commented on her perfect her hair and makeup and clothing was waaay back in book 1/2 and thought how interesting it was for a self professed heretic to still take care to make sure the darkeyed sailors on their ship to the shattered plains never saw her out of makeup. jasnah has been vulnerable in this series, sure, but only to her family. or maybe shallan. or maybe hoid? persumably. every single page she has appeared on in this entire series has reinforced that to her a huge part of the way she does her job (and im considering hiring a spy to follow her sister in law her job too, not just being queen. i mean what she considers her role to be in her family) of statecraft is in the perception that she is perfect. and yeah, that's why it was never going to work with fen

dalinar did have a hard time cracking fen because i think that in the beginning of their interactions they both made fundamental misinterpretations of each other based on where they came from. fen only thought of dalinar as a warmonger who would walk all over her country in the name of conquest, and dalinar straight up did not understand that fen's perspective was so heavily influenced by the thaylen mercantile culture. they still found common ground and yeah it was a frank conversation and an abandoment of diplomat speak that did it. jasnah's made emotional pleas before but i think the crux of her error with fen is that she DID know how important the mercantile culture was but she interpreted it as "fen is going to leave the alliance if she gets a better deal for her country so i need to prove that im her best option" instead of "fen values exchange of commerce but she really values relationships. fen's culture involves building relationships with other merchants so that they can trade with each other and understand each other" (please see the original two rysn interludes). fen didn't need a perfect argument from jasnah but she also didn't need dalinar's approach either. all she needed was for jasnah to TRUST her enough to treat her like an equal partner in their alliance instead of a marker to be moved around a war map.

cause let's be honest. fen is an extremely capable ruler. she's smart and she's been in power for a long time. i do not think for a second that she was genuinely aghast that jasnah sent spies after aesudan or well, the kharbrath murders were pretty bad but im certain that a middle aged to senior member of ruling nobility has seen worse. it's not a bad thing for jasnah to put her people first. i am convinced that fen felt betrayed because jasnah had already set the parameters of their relationship by even engaging in this debate with taravangian. fen saw her logic backfire on herself and went "oh. okay. you are putting YOUR people first because you do not see the thaylen people as having the kind of relationship to you as, for example, vstim had with the shin or with the reshi king. you see us as an argument to be won over, as numbers on a map, as a thought excersize. not onyl withh you walk all over my country in the name of conquest (like dalinar might have) but you'd do it for the sake of what, rhetoric??" in that way, at least taravodium was honest.

but yes. jasnah would never do that. jasnah put on a full face of makeup every morning in her cabin just in case a handful of sailors that she never learned the names of would see her. of course she would never let a queen that she respected see her worry for her kingdom on purpose but it's over now. the mask has cracked, she lost, and she knows that the trap she fell into only closed around her because of her own hubris/the kind of love you have for winning that you'd have to have in order to spend your pre-apocalypse time actively arguing about heresy with every scholar and ardent out there. taravangian's arguments would not have worked on fen if jasnah had never put her in the position to be won over in the first place. i cannot stress enough that jasnah was my first love in this series and watching her finally crack and expose what i have always considered to be the most interesting thing about her was easily one of my favorite moments in the book. insane shit. i can't wait to see how she builds herself back up.

[wheeboo]

lucky | lee jihoon

SYNOPSIS. in which jihoon realises just how lucky he is to have you. PAIRING. lee jihoon x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. none, jihoon is just deeply whipped and falling hard for reader (🫵) WORD COUNT. 1.3k

notes: ive been addicted to a new song recently called lucky by crying city n wanted to write it abt w someone. i havent written for jihoon in a while so enjoy some domestic jihoon brainrot :')

Jihoon had always told himself to be patient when it comes to being with you. He likes it this way𑁋the steady and slow incline of his feelings towards you. It's like a delicate flower in bloom, or watching a sunrise over the horizon, each day bringing a bit more light and warmth to his heart.

You like it this way too. Because when time seems to be going by fast around you, it only seems to slow down when you're with him.

He likes the way he seems to discover something new about you every time you went out on a date. It can be a distant memory from the past that you remember that reminds you of him, or something miniscule like a quirk when your eyes grow big when you're amused or when you reach for the nearest object to grab when you're excited. In most of these cases these days, it's the sleeve of his shirt or his wrist. Jihoon really likes it when you do that.

And amidst the things he notices about you, he doesn't dare to realise the subtle shifts of himself. Like the way he now anticipates your laughter before it even escapes your lips, or the way his smile grows just a little bigger each time he gets to walk you home with your arm comfortably wrapped around his. Or maybe when his gaze seems to linger a little longer when looking at you as if trying to imprint every detail of your face into his mind, or when the thought of your absence becomes an ache in his heart that he can't ignore.

Just like right now.

Jihoon recognises that he's no longer just patient; he's become truly invested in your life, your happiness, just you. You're the first person he's ever truly liked, and he ponders whether this feels right or not𑁋to miss you this much it feels merely incomplete to be home alone right now, because he'd much rather be with you. The thought scares him a little. He's never imagined himself to feel this way.

It isn't due to uncertainty about his feelings; it's more about the vulnerability that comes with caring so deeply for someone. The idea that his happiness has become so entwined with yours is both thrilling and overwhelming that even his members seem to notice a particular glow to him lately. But then he remembers just how easy it is to be Lee Jihoon around you. Not just Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. Himself, and nothing more.

What he feels isn't just fleeting𑁋it's real, it's profound, and it's worth embracing.

Jihoon trudges to his bedroom, placing himself down at the edge of his bed with his thumb hovering over your contact. He contemplates sending you a goodnight text, but it feels lackluster to send such a simple message when there's so much more to be told. He could also send you a paragraph for you to read, but that also doesn't feel enough.

He wants to see you instead.

With a determined yet slightly nervous exhale, Jihoon taps on your contact and selects the video call option. His heart quickens in an instant as the call connects after a few rings, and he's quickly greeted by your surprised face.

"Hoonie?" You call to him, and Jihoon swears his heart melts into goo each time you call him that.

"Hey," he greets you warmly, noticing how you were scrambling to prop up your phone properly. "I'm... not interrupting anything, am I?"

You shake your head, offering a soft smile. "No, not at all. Are you okay? You usually don't call."

Jihoon bites his bottom lip nervously because you're right. He's always been more comfortable texting than calling, but there's just something about this moment right now that makes him want to change that fact, especially if he gets to see a glimpse of your face for one second.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just... wanted to see you," he admits, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You lift an amused brow, finding the smile to your lips hard to resist. "Shouldn't you be asleep by now? You have work in the morning with the guys."

Jihoon runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. "I know, I know. But I... I wanted to see your face."

Your face softens. "Well, I'm glad that you're here. You can get ready for bed with me."

Jihoon's smile grows, and he shifts slightly on his bed, propping himself up against the pillows. The warmth in your voice is enough to make his heart flutter, and the idea of sharing this domestic moment with you, even through a screen, feels comforting. It makes him imagine himself unwinding for bed with you without a phone call separating the two of you.

"I'd like that," he replies, gaze fixed on you bringing your phone into the bathroom. "It's been a long day."

He listens to the sounds of running water as you wash your face, and seeing your pretty bare face gives him all the more reason to hope that one day, he'll be able to cherish it in person. It's as if he's there with you, a silent presence in your room, a part of your everyday life.

He stands up as well, bringing you along into his own bathroom. Jihoon sets his phone on the counter, giving you a view of his bathroom as he goes about washing his face as well. You shake your head with a smile as you watch him dry his face, already standing with your toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, silently gesturing to him once he catches sight of you.

Jihoon chuckles softly and he picks up on your unspoken cue. He reaches for his own toothbrush and toothpaste, mirroring your actions as you both start brushing your teeth together, occasionally exchanging shy glances here and there and letting the domesticity of the moment take over.

Once you're both done, you watch as Jihoon rinses his toothbrush and puts it back in its place. He dries his hands and faces the phone's camera with a soft smile, seeing that you were already walking back to presumably your bedroom. He does the same as well, collapsing onto his bed and settling under his duvet, the soft glow of his bedside lamp casting a warm light on his face. You've also settled back into bed on your end, the dim lighting in your room making you appear extra cozy under the covers.

As you both settle into bed, he can't help but imagine a world where he's right there with you. It's a thought he often entertains: a dream of being able to hold you close, to feel your warmth against his for the first time. He imagines being able to live that quiet life with you.

One day, I'll hold you like this for real, he thinks.

There's a yawn that leaves your lips that Jihoon overhears through the phone, and it tugs at his heartstrings in the sweetest way. It's a small, ordinary sound, but to him, it's a reminder of the most mundane and heartfelt moments you've shared. As he continues to watch you, he notices the telltale signs of weariness in your eyes, and he can't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness.

"You should rest," Jihoon suggests, voice carrying the same warmth he feels.

You give a small pout. "I don't really want to sleep just yet."

"I'll fall asleep better knowing you're getting rest too," Jihoon insists gently.

Your pout turns into a contemplative look at his words. "You've... got a point."

There's a few moments of silence that passes, and Jihoon takes it as an opportunity to watch the way your features gradually soften before finally relaxing.

"Okay." You let out a sigh, reaching out to readjust your covers before giving Jihoon one final look through the phone. "Promise me you'll get some rest too?"

Jihoon only nods. "I promise."

You grin sleepily. "Sweet dreams, Hoonie."

"Sweet dreams, Y/N." I hope you dream of something beautiful tonight.

The call stays connected for a few moments before Jihoon finally gives in and ends the call. He lets out a breath he feels he's been holding in for a while as he lays there. The glow of his phone's screen slowly fades away, leaving his room in peaceful darkness. He shifts under the covers, getting comfortable and closing his eyes.

And in that moment, it hits him just how lucky he is have you.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae

[gorgeys]

heyyy i've been thinking about this specific scenario w our queen for a while now and id love to see you writing about it if possible bc ur amazinggg

so basically ive been thinking about maeve and reader being in the beginning of their relationship but maeve is still very closed off and hates any sign of vulnerability so when reader notices that and tries to help maeve process her emotions in a healthier way than w drugs or just bottling up like she always does she gets really defensive and fight w reader about it but then maeve realize that it was a shitty thing to do n apologize to reader because she really wants this to work its just that old habits die hard

basically angst w happy ending bc im a sucker for hurt/comfort

never let me go ★ queen maeve

Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Maeve has her walls up, but you help her break them down

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2960

Note: thank you sm for the great request! i'm not the best at writing this hurt/comfort stuff but i really tried!! i hope you enjoy!

you stuffed shredded chicken into a searing pan of sauce.  if someone had walked in, they would have assumed you were cooking for a family of six. but no, the pan was piled high just for your girlfriend who had a never-ending appetite and claimed she'd rather eat your food than the meals at any restaurant.  that boosted your ego quite a bit considering maeve had literally dined at the most expensive and renowned restaurants in America.

some nights she'd come up behind you while you whipped up one of your classic dishes and wrap her arms around your waist.  she'd leave little kisses behind your ear and tell you how much she missed you, leaving a stupid smile on your face.  then she'd rest her head on your shoulder and ask you to tell her everything about your day because her day was "boring as usual."  you didn't consider being a crime-fighting superhero boring by any means, but you got the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

but then other nights you wondered if the meal was all she came for.  it was nights like tonight, where she sat silently at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and an empty bottle beside her, that left you worrying. whenever you glanced back at her, she always seemed to be blankly staring off into space, as if complicated thoughts were clouding her mind.  you had tried giving her space but you couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was wrong.

she only makes her presence known when she gets up from her chair, opens the fridge, and reaches for another beer.  upon noticing, you release a tired sigh that catches her attention.

"maeve, do you really need another?" you ask without turning around.  "i mean, you're gonna finish the whole case."

she closes the fridge behind her.

"i can just go out and buy some more," she says with a simple shrug.

"no, maeve, that's not what i mean," you say.  you half turn to meet her eyes and just look at her for a moment, wondering if she'll catch on.  from the little twitch of her eyes, you think she does, but she still doesn't say anything.  she just stands there and stares back at you, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle.  you sigh once more.  "is something going on?"

"what? no," she quickly says with the slight furrow of her eyebrows as if it's a stupid question. she doesn't sound one bit convincing.

"right," you say, fully turning around and dropping the wooden spoon into the pan. you lean your back against the edge of the counter.  "so you just sit in silence, drinking like a fish for no reason at all?"

she scoffs and laughs as if you're being absurd.

"since when do you care how much i drink?" she asks with her usual satirical smile.  you know that smile well.  it's the one she always displays when the conversation is teetering on something uncomfortable.

"since you started drinking like a middle-aged man going through a divorce."

"oh, come on, y/n" she says, waving you off.  "it's just cause i can't really get drunk like a normal person.  i need a few more."

"a few more?" you ask with raised eyebrows.  "maeve, you drink enough to kill a couple racehorses.  i mean, the only people i've seen drink that much are people trying to forget things."

her smile falters and you take it as a sign that you're headed in the right direction.

"if anything's going on, i want you to know that you can talk to me about it," you say sincerely, taking a step toward her.  "i'm always here for you, no matter what."

you catch her rolling her eyes before she turns away from you.

"god, stop with all the sappy shit," she says sharply.  she slams the beer on the tabletop rather hard.  "i'm fine, okay?" she says, borderline shouting.

"then talk to me, please," you say, placing a hand over your chest.  you know you sound a little pathetic as you plead but you hope it gets through to her.  "because it's so hard to guess what you're feeling when you just sit there not saying anything.  i can only imagine the worst."

she audibly groans before she sits back in her chair.  her eyes lock dead onto yours and she ignores the desperation written all over your face.

"i have shitty enough days already, the last thing i wanna do is come here and talk about my fucking feelings like i'm in kindergarten.  i deal with enough children at vought already," she says, crossing her arms and staring daggers into you.

you press your lips together out of frustration.  she's a grown woman but she's acting like an immature teenager.

"well you can't just keep everything to yourself," you say, matching her posture and crossing your own arms.  "i know it's a lot to carry between the seven and vought and having to save everyone in this whole shitty city, so don't feel like you have to carry it alone."

she laughs at you and it only feels like a punch to your gut.

"god, i didn't know i was talking to my fucking therapist," she says, overenunciating her words and practically spitting at you in the process.  "do you come up with these lines yourself or do you steal them off inspirational pinterest boards?" she asks with a derisive smile.

"maeve," you sigh, growing tired of this game that you're playing.  she's usually awful at these touchy conversations but she's especially defensive tonight.  you take another step toward her. "all i'm asking is that you have a real conversation with me.  i mean, i feel like i'm talking to a stranger half the time because i don't know a single thing about you.  you wanna talk about the bachelor for an hour but can't tell me a thing about your day or what's actually bothering you.  it's like pulling teeth with you."

you take a final cautious step toward her and place one palm on the table to support your weight. you're standing just inches away from her.

"stop shutting me out.  it's hurting both of us," you say, more softly this time.

"you mean it's hurting you," she says, punctuating her words by slamming her fist on the table, causing you to flinch and jump away from her.  you look down and notice she's cracked the wooden surface.

you've never been seriously scared of her strength before, but you are in this moment.

"i'm doing just fine, actually. you just want me to have a break down so you can feel better about yourself and your small, meaningless problems," she says, rising from her chair.

you scoff out of disbelief.

"do you even hear yourself right now?" you ask, throwing your hands up in the air.  "i'm your girlfriend, not some villain you have to fight.  i'm not praying on your downfall.  all i wanna do is help you."

she laughs and shakes her head while you huff.  it boils your blood when she treats you like this, like some ignorant outsider, not someone who cares so deeply about her.

"oh, okay y/n, so let's just hold hands and sing kumbaya and maybe all my problems will disappear," she says, the typical sarcasm dripping from her tone.  it's quickly replaced by venom.  "you can't do anything to help me.  you're stupid for ever thinking you could," she yells, before falling back into her chair and opening the beer bottle with the flick of her thumb.

once again, you just stare at her, wondering if she'll recognize the insanity behind her words and the visible hurt they've inflicted on you.  but no, she just takes a long swig from the bottle, letting you know that nothing you've said has pierced her tough exterior.

finally, you've reached your limit with her.  you know this is going nowhere.

"well fuck me, maeve, for trying to help," you say, spinning around and turning the stove off.  she puts her beer down, a little surprised by the abrupt change in your usually understanding nature.  "you can make your own dinner and go back to your bougie penthouse and drink yourself to death up there, okay?  i'm not fucking doing this tonight."

she only watches as you, with glossy eyes, stomp toward your bedroom and slam the door behind you.  she doesn't make an effort to stop you, but instead sits there almost dumbfounded by the way she's tipped you over the edge.  she had never seen you like this before.

she stays at your now cracked kitchen table for quite a while, downing her third beer and contemplating if she should go in and talk to you or leave like you asked.

even if she did push aside the embarrassment and work up the courage to knock on your bedroom door, what would she even say to you?  that she has blood on her hands from all the people homelander's killed and she can't take it anymore?  that when she closes her eyes, all she can see are those screaming, terrified, innocent people?  that that's why she's broken inside?  no, those are her burdens to carry, not yours, she thinks.  she can't scare you away now, not this soon.

"fuck," she curses as she stands up from the table, eyes locked on your bedroom door.

she wants to be in that bed with you, her head tucked in the crook of your neck as you sleep soundly.  she wants to fall asleep to your perfect, soothing smell and the soft sound of your breathing like she usually does.

but no.  no matter how much her heart hurts, she can't bring herself to your door.  she can't let you see through her like that.  instead, she throws the bottles into your trash can and walks out of your apartment.

xxx

for the next few days, all maeve can think about is you.  she thinks about you opening your apartment door for her, close to midnight, after a long night of crime-fighting.  you're in your cute plaid pajama pants and maybe your oversized queen maeve shirt that she stole for you from vought tower.

she thinks about watching netflix on the couch with you, cuddled under your favorite soft blue blanket.  she thinks about the moment you slump against her shoulder as you begin to doze off.

she even misses your texts.  she misses your "have the best day, baby!!" texts.  she misses all the heart-eye emojis you send her.  she misses the cute impromptu pictures you take, especially the ones you take of yourself kissing random queen maeve billboards or posters around the city.  she misses your "i love you <3" texts.

and it's during a boring seven meeting where she keeps checking her phone, hoping for a text from you, that she realizes that she can't lose you.  she desperately needs you and every day that she doesn't see you feels like a pointless one.  she can't carry on with vought or the seven or saving people if she doesn't have you to come home to.

so maybe, to make this thing between the two of you work, she needs to change.  maybe she needs to open up, because losing you is not an option.

that's the sentiment she repeats in her head as she knocks on your apartment door, waiting impatiently to see you for the first time since your fight.

she hears the pitter pattering of your bare feet from behind the door before you swing it open.  and there you are, in all your glory of messy hair and sweatpants.  you don't say anything, so maeve sends you a weak smile.

"hi," she says awkwardly, looking almost embarrassed to be in her current situation.

"hi," you reply, more coldly than she's used to.  though she understands after everything she said last time.

she stares at you for another beat, soaking in every part of your presence.  relief floods her body just seeing you.

"i, um, i bought you a new table," she says, raising the cardboard ikea box she had tucked under one arm.  "i'm sorry about what i did to your other one."

you open the door wider so she can come in and set the box down in your kitchen.  when she walks back to you, you still have one hand on the door edge, holding the door open.

"is that all you came to do or..."

she can't read your blank expression.  do you want her to leave or stay?  it doesn't matter.  she has to be brave right now.

"no," she says, standing awkwardly in your living room, her fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.  she nervously looks down at the floor for a moment.  she reminds you of a shy school girl that's trying to work up the courage to ask out her crush.  "can we talk?"

you close and lock the door and notice that maeve's already invited herself to sit on your couch.  so you sit beside her, your body turned toward her and your elbow resting on the top of the couch.  you watch as she sits there stiffly, as if she's never been there before, with her hands tightly folded in her lap.

her gaze nervously flickers from your face to her hands every few seconds.  you can see the gears in her brain spinning in overdrive as she tries to find the right words.  although the air is slightly tense and awkward, you would sit there for hours if it meant maeve would finally share herself with you.

"y/n," she finally says, abruptly raising her head to look you in the eye.  your heart jumps a little. "being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.  i've...seen terrible things," she says before taking a deep breath.  "i've done terrible things."

you realize that this is the moment.  this is the moment where she's finally going to let you into her life.  her whole life.  so, you shelve your anger and gently rest a hand over one of her wrists.  you give her skin a soft, encouraging squeeze that tells her to continue.

"and...the guilt is the worst part.  i-" she pauses to take another shaky breath and then press her lips together.  you can see that tears are beginning to prick the corners of her eyes.  "i don't know what to do," she admits, her voice cracking.  your heart cracks along with it.

"and i guess..." she continues.  "i didn't want you to have to worry about that.  i didn't want to scare you," she says, looking back down at her hands.

"maeve," you coo, resting your other hand on her shoulder.  a pout naturally finds it's way to your lips.  seeing her this emotional almost makes you want to cry with her.

"and i'm so sorry.  because...not telling you made everything even worse.  and i just don't want to lose you," she says, a tear rolling down her cheek.  her hand immediately rises to wipe it away.  "i don't want to lose you because of something stupid like this."

"maeve," you say, your hand leaving her shoulder to push a strand of hair out of her face.  "it's okay., it's not stupid.  i get it, you're not used to doing...this. i know it's hard for you."  you gently hold her cheek in her hand, forcing her to make eye contact with you.  "but you could never scare me away.  i promise.  i'm with you because i want to know all of you.  all the bad stuff too."

"but, y/n, it's really bad," she says, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from breaking down.

you're leaning into her and holding her face with both hands now, your foreheads almost touching.

"maeve, you're a good person," you say.  you sound so sincere that maeve can't help the silent tears that start to flow rapidly.  that was everything she needed to hear and more.  "i know that.  you know that.  whatever is going on, it's not something that we can't overcome together.  if you let me in, i'm going to help you as much as i can, okay?  i'm always here for you," you say.

she nods in your hands and feels her body flooded by an overwhelming sense of comfort.

"i need you, y/n.  i need this to work. and i wanna be better.  for you," she says, finally bumping your forehead with hers.

"i know.  and i know it's scary to tell me all this stuff but i promise, it's going to get easier.  if you trust me, there's nothing we can't do," you say, a little smile finding it's way to your face.  you know it sounds cheesy and it's something maeve would have made fun of you for under typical circumstances, but in the moment, it feels right.  "and you know i love you, right?"

she instinctively wraps her arms around your shoulders, engulfing you in the tightest hug you've ever received from her.  she familiarly tucks her head into the crook of your neck, inhaling that smell she missed so much.

"i love you so much," she whispers into your skin and you melt in her arms.  you hold her just as tightly, your fingers rubbing up and down her back.  "i missed you."

"i missed you more," you say.

"i'm never letting you go again," she says, squeezing you to her chest even tighter, and you laugh softly.  she's telling the honest truth.

though fear still lingered in the back of her mind, this feeling sure as hell beat any alcohol.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello! a little fic request I’ve been thinking on, not pressuring you to write it or anything, just wanted to share.

the y/n is a hot tempered foreign princess who got married to Baldwin when they were both children. she’s very energetic, straightforward, man-like in her character, but has to adapt to fit in the court of Jerusalem and also to „suit” her husband’s calm manner and the fact that he’s ill doesn’t help.

she’s unhappy about it; maybe even tears a little during the wedding, but doesn’t let anyone to think she may be vulnerable (mostly because she understand that that can be used against her in the future after Baldwin dies). but over the time she finds herself drawn to Baldwin because, well, unlike her teachers, he lets her study and play chess with him. he cares about her desires and interests. he also respects her, not just like a woman but as a friend, and a clever one. maybe some of her advice on the politics is used by him at some point (which would be absolutely unrealistic, but really, we’re talking historical romance with a leper king here…). a cute detail would be him gifting her a weapon of some sort to protect herself because he knows how she doesn’t like being treated like she’s helpless. bonus points if he says something romantic and or pathos’y about it.

did I write this whole oc story as a multiple chapter fanfiction in my head? yes, I did. am I going to finish it? absolutely no. but I’d love to read your interpretation!

♧ "Princess" - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! So sorry for taking so long to write this, ive had so many requests. I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind but it was my interpretation and I hope you like it! I dont really like how it turned out as your request had so much detail and my writing does that no justice, but I hope its okay ☺️! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgures. This is also set pre-film. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

At thirteen years old, marriage was the last thing on young y/n’s mind. But yet, here she was. Soon to arrive in the city of Jerusalem, to be wed to a boy she had only ever met a handful of times.

Baldwin the fourth. The leper, who's mother just so happend to be ready to find him a wife at the same time her father was ready to find her a husband.

She sat in silence for the entire journey, this was uncommon for her. She usually always had something interesting to say or something to observe with curiosity. But as per request by her father, from now on she “had to act like a proper lady. No more of this ridiculous 'masculine' behavior”.

“You will be wed to a king y/n” he had told her. “You must stop acting the way you do. No king will be allowed such behavior from his wife”. 

Her attempt to keep to herself for the journey had been successful so far. She remained silent and still. Just as her mother taught her. “Just how a lady should be”. 

As the city came into view, y/n felt tears begin to burn her eyes. She would never again be allowed to explore the wilderness on her fathers land, or read every book she was allowed to have from the library. She surrendered herself to a life of boredom and suppression. 

Once exiting the carriage, she was greeted by the royal officials as well as the king's mother.

“I am so pleased to finally meet you young lady" she greeted her with a smile "you shall make a fine wife for my son” . Y/n thanked her and was ushered off quickly to prepare her for the hour of the wedding.

Y/n held back tears as servants worked busily around the room. Dressing her in beautiful garments, jewelry, and makeup. She was distraught. But she dare not cry. They could not see her so weak.

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

The events proceeded and y/n barely even looked at the boy she was marrying. She could not bring herself to make eye contact with the man who would rule her life forever.

They told her to smile. “No man wants to see a lady disappointed on her wedding day” the king's mother had told her before they entered the church.

Baldwin himself was nervous about this day but just enthusiastic. Unlike y/n, he was looking forward to being wed to a young woman. He did not want just a wife to serve him, but a companion too. Someone who he could speak to about all kinds of things. Someone who would love him as much as he loved them. When he saw her, she looked beautiful, but sad. Very sad.

He hoped she was not sad about marrying him. Perhaps his illness deterred her from wanting to even be near him.

But she was still beautiful. She was 14, just like him. He could not take his eyes off her. He had met her a few times before, and she interested him deeply, even though they barely spoke. He more so just watched her play and talk with the other young people from his bedroom chamber window, longing to join them if it was not for his illness.

She played more with the young boys than she did with the girls. Always full of energy and life, always talking and laughing. But now, she looked different. As if the light had been drained from her. 

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

When the wedding was over, the young king and queen got acquainted in the boy's chambers. She still seemed very quiet and unsure about his presence.

“Are you alright?” He asked her the second they were alone. “Yes your highness” she replied in a small voice, very different to the excitable tone she used to have. She sighed and lowered herself onto the small couch, turning away from him to look at her hands.

Baldwin thought for a moment, but then remembered that his mother requested he chose a wedding gift to present her after the affairs.

“I have a gift for you,” he said happily, lightening the mood.

He noticed her eyes light up a little at the comment. “You do?”

“Yes, would you like to see it?”

Y/n nodded excitedly, a smile forming on her face for the first time all day. The boy stood and disappeared behind the red, satin curtains that covered the large windows. He returned a few seconds later with something behind his back and a wide smile.

"I had to hide it, so my mother did not see what I chose for you" he explained. This peeked y/n's intrest greatly.

“Alright, close your eyes, '' he told her, the smile still plastered to his face. Y/n shut her eyes with anticipation. When he told her to open her eyes, she was lost for words. In the young king's bandaged hands, he held a shining silver sword with a pale pink ribbon tied around the handle.

Her eyes widened and stared at the sword for a long time before taking it in her hands to admire it. “Do you like it?” he asked, cautiously, hoping he had not offended her.

“Baldwin.. I love it!!” she exclaimed with a grin, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. The smile returned to his face and he put his arms around her waist.

“Now you can defend yourself my love. No wife of mine will be left vulnerable, even if there are men to protect her. She will defend herself, because she is strong.” His words filled the queen with happiness and hope. Perhaps her father was wrong after all and she could remain as herself. At least in the presence of her husband. 

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

From that day on, they were inseparable. Unlike y/n’s tutors and parents, he allowed her access to his entire private library so they could study and read together. He allowed her time to herself, so she could do the things she loved without anybody telling her how to behave.

He quite often went as far as to seek her out for advice on political issues, not allowing her straightforward intelligence to go to waste.

Overtime, y/n became used to her duties as queen, but as much as she learnt to fit the role, she treasured her time alone with Baldwin. He cared about her interests, her desires. He respected her, more than anyone else ever had. They played chess together as well, each game being a delightful battle of the mind.

He saw her as not just a wife, but as a companion and an intelligent one at that. And for this, she would be forever greatful.

[theoldoor]

a little late for summertime dont you think

just some post-talia bummery from these two i love them to the point that i have to remind myself that one isnt even canon like this is torture.

I dont have much to say for this post as ive said pretty much everything about post-talia them posts prior, I DO however, have a lot of talia rambling to do- which will be saved when i doodle enough stuff for it

They still have that little bickering and bantering thing going on, passive aggressiveness with one another and being the one who gets the other into silly troubles despite both being elites. Like how Jade said Topaz and Aventurine bickers like kids, these two however, bicker like those alt older brothers in coming of age movies and his bromantic bro bestfriend (ive said this before so manu times but i cant find a better way to describe them)

mayeb something like todd and wallace but theyre vashwood if you get what i mean - i’ve also been subconsciously projecting vashwood onto these two considering fenrir calls aventurine “vasha/vash/vashu” while aventurine calls fenrir “that wolf/wolfy/dumb dog” and ive yet to realize that until very recently when i was writing something for fenrir that goes like “he valued life as others and he also bets it on me.” and i get reminded of “he feared death twice as others” and it just hits “ive been projecting vashwood onto these two oh my god”

fenrir cares for aventurine more than he wants to, but he does regardless.

"You should never ask anyone for anything. Never- and especially from those who are more powerful than yourself. They will make the offer and give it of their own accord."

It’s something that Fenrir live by, is that genuine help would come without the need for obligations afterwards. During Talia, Fenrir actively create scenarios around him that make people that he’s dependent on rely on him, out of obligations or respect. So whatever help Fenrir gives, he calculated them all so that they’d be beneficial “technically” to him.

Yet for certain individuals, those he love dearly such as Hermia, Boothill and Aventurine- He was willing to suffer a loss for them, which, for a person all for survival like Fenrir, is a tough decision to take. He broke his own ideals and virtues so that he could protect and satisfy these people, his family and he hates whenever he does that because it showed him that someone is having control over him and he’s at their mercy, which means they could just leave him and he’s very vulnerable to them. To put trust in these people so much that he’d voluntarily help them is like to trust them with his life.

i also like the concept of Talia recycling everything, even people considering some people would see that they’ve been “used” beyond so they were given a chance again. that’s why i felt like aventurine was suitable for this considering his past and his potential inferiority complex there.

the foundation between aventurine and fenrir relies on a lot of trust, and gamble as they could not read one another. it connects back to aventurine’s eidolons being game theories and avidity’s being about desires and non-co-operative game theories (one wins at expense of another while game theory is both party wins through trust and cooperation). fenrir’s eidolons are still in writing, but i want it to be based on 7 deadly sins or something, he does have a lot of religious references for the new lore rework.

fenrir was created before i know of aventurine, but i did tweaked a lot of things about him when aventurine came out. though the fundamentals still stayed, they were just made for each other rurururouuouogugh….

[nyverieee]

unmasking draco.

DRACO MALFOY X READER oneshot angst

TW: suicide.

summary: late one night, you find draco malfoy standing on the edge of the astronomy tower, broken and vulnerable. he reveals the dark mark burned into his skin, confessing the weight of his family's expectations. despite his guilt and fear, you refuse to see him as a monster. as he breaks down in your arms, he finally lets go of the mask he's worn for so long.

a/n: english isint my first language so sorry for any spelling mistakes/ things that donot make sense!

word count: 1037

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

it was late, the night sky stretched out in front of us like an endless sea of stars. But draco wasn't looking at the stars. he was standing on the edge, his body poised as if he were ready to fall. his hands were shaking, barely noticeable, but i saw them.

i took a careful step forward, my heart pounding in my chest. "draco?" I called softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. "what are you doing?"

his head snapped up, his eyes wild, filled with something i couldn't place. the usual sneer, the mask of the proud malfoy was gone. in its place was something broken. something desperate.

"go away, Y/N" he said, his voice sharp. there was no venom behind it—just exhaustion, as if he had given up. "you don't understand."

"i don't think you do" i whispered, my voice barely steady as i took another step closer, my heart pounding. "draco, please... get down." i said, my voice softening

he didn't say anything for a moment, just stared down at the ground, his jaw clenched. but i saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he was holding himself together by sheer willpower.

"im a monster, Y/N," he said, his voice raw, cracking like glass. "ive always been one. the things I've done... the things my family expects me to do..."

I shook my head, stepping closer still. "youre not a monster, draco."

dracos eyes flashed at my words, and he turned to face me fully. "you don't get it!" he spat, his voice breaking. "this mark... its not just a symbol. its who i am. who ill always be. im trapped, Y/N. i can't escape it."

i felt my chest tighten as he pulled his sleeve up, exposing the dark ink that burned into his skin like a permanent scar. the dark mark.

i froze, my breath catching in my throat. the symbol of voldemorts power. the mark of a death eater. but seeing it on draco, someone i had known since birth, was like a punch to the gut.

draco didn't look at me. his eyes were on the mark, his fingers brushed over the dark ink as if he could erase it. "i never asked for this. i never wanted this life," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "but its mine now. its all i am."

he laughed bitterly, but it wasnt the cold, mocking laugh i was used to.

it was hollow, empty. "you cant see it, can you?" his voice cracked. "this mark is who I am now. its not just something thatll go away. no matter how much I want to change, no matter how hard I try... ill always be marked. and you... youre the only one who doesn't see me as a monster. the only one who doesn't look at me with disgust."

i stepped closer, my voice soft, desperate. "because.. i don't see a monster, draco."

he chuckled, a sound that was more like a painful exhale than genuine laughter. "you just dont get it, do you?" he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the mark, as if he couldnt bear to look at me.

he chuckled, a sound that was more like a painful exhale than genuine laughter. "you just dont get it, do you?" he whispered, his eyes still fixed on the mark, as if he couldn't bear to look at me.

i shook my head, taking another step forward, my voice trembling. "i dont care about that mark. i care about you."

"you don't understand," he repeated, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "im not good, ill alwats be the villain in every story."

i shook my head, my heart aching for him. "youre more than that. youve always been more."

his jaw clenched again, but this time, there was a vulnerability there. "you dont know what its like... to be a part of this."

"youre right" i cleared my throat. "but you dont have to carry this alone. im not going anywhere."

for a moment, he stood still, his breathing shallow, and then.. as if the weight of everything had finally worn him down, he let out a long breath and slowly lowered his arm.

"youre not afraid of me?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

i shook my head, stepping closer. "no, draco. I'm not afraid of you."

his eyes flickered with disbelief, as if searching for some trace of fear, but i didn't look away. "youre not a monster," i whispered. "i care about you, not that damn mark."

he didnt speak for a long moment, his fingers still brushing over the dark ink. the weight of everything seemed to collapse on him, and he took a shaky breath. his eyes softened, and for a moment..

i saw him—the real him—just beyond the mask. he took a deep breath and nodded, a silent acceptance.

dracos breath hitched as he looked at me, his walls finally cracking. "i don't know how to be anything else," he whispered, his voice breaking. "i dont know how to escape this."

befote i could respond, his shoulders gave way, and in an instant, he collapsed into me. his body shook with silent sobs, his face pressed against my shoulder as he broke down. the weight of everything he'd been holding in for so long seemed to pour out in that moment.

i wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, my heart aching for the boy who had always tried to be untouchable, strong, and invincible. but now, in my arms, he was just draco. vulnerable and lost.

i held him close, feeling his body tremble against mine. his sobs came in ragged gasps, as if every breath hurt.

he clung to me tighter, as if afraid id disappear if he let go. his breathing was slow, uneven, but the weight of the world seemed to lift a little with each passing second.

[sincerely-sofie]

anyways heres a 'little' travailshipping ramble i had in mind since ive been thinking about twig and ark for a while now.

i think these two are beautiful because of just how much their interactions and their relationship changes over the course of TPiaG.

at first, it's like a house thats surrounded by thorns. ark being there adds another unspeakable layer of shame that twig cannot afford to look at, because theres only so much that she had been forced to confront over the course of that time period that one more tidbit in the form of her curser and elusive tormentor may as well make her hurl.

but what adds further salt to injury over the fact that ark has no idea who she was? to her, he was another painstake in her back, and one of which she allowed into her own home despite how colossal of a bad idea it was.

but to him? twig was but a stranger. a kind stranger, at that, but one he couldn't try to assume harm towards. and even so, why did she not look at him in the eye? why does she seem to feel the fear mull over whenever he is around? he couldn't know, because i'd be rude to pry with unnecessary questions to someone whos only showing him hospitality.

but as time goes on, things change. the walls slowly hucker down, and the heart reveals its vulnerability in the form of things that neither party has the pleasant sense of seeing, feeling and knowing. this sickening feeling of the past gripping down hard on your neck in the midst of it all, in the form of incidents that you should have never have taken the blame for, or through exiles and mistreatments from siblings whom could only go so far as "well meaning" to "there is a time and a place, and you quite frankly don't belong in neither."

yet even so, there is trust. one proves the other to be trustworthy, even through the worst of it all. twig trusts ark, and he trusts her.

and i believe the 'peak' of it all was when ark finally had his memories intact, and he lashed out at twig for playing him for a fool for how long. he has every reason to be, and she knows it. and in that moment, in that little trial of tribulation, she simply offers him what he 'wished for' all along.

he gets to put an end to her. no worthy blood to be spilled because twig knows what she is, and what ark wants. she wants it to be done, because there is nothing left. nothing to fill in the mold, and nothing to help someone as 'broken' and undeserving of anything such as her.

and for how tempting it is, ark stops. the time has come, the time is at hand. but he freezes. time stands still. nothing but the wind to accompany.

and he realizes. he realizes that, he cares. he unfortunately, through the worst of it all cares. because he couldn't stomach the thought of doing so, and for how repulsed he was at his lack of killing intent.

yes, twig is just a random. a random who, despite the history they share, took him in and cared for him when no one wished for him to be around. she made him feel like home, because he was never familiar with the concept of ever belonging to one. a misfit of darkness, fishing solace in someone who should hate him, yet somehow does not.

he doesn't want to hurt her, because she is everything to his nothing. the seamless moon against his tides in the water. someone whom matters so much to him and could only wish she mattered so much to herself.

gutting her cause a pang of regret, because twig cares when other do not.

and in return, he gives her an (unconventional) helping hand. let all those sorrows break, and let those who you know will catch you when you fall. ark had no reason to play notifier, because he would've taken the opportunity to see how much the world will rip her heart open and stomp it had the opportunity struck.

but he knows. he knows he cannot. she made him feel everything, and he could not bear to lose it all. in his own way, he had to help. because he cares. twig cares, even when she should not.

from the thorns to the blossom, and it all blends in a beautiful symphony. because they care. they both care so, so much.

anyways sorry for the ramble/if it's too long/incomprehensible since it's like. 12:30pm for me. whoops.

Hey I’ve had this in my inbox for ages because I wanted to type up a proper response to something this beautiful but haven’t been able to summon any words in the face of this heartfelt, stunning analysis. So I’m just going to set this ask free and say thank you. You have such a way with words, and I’ve treasured this for a long time, and will continue to do so.

Anyhoo. Time to scream at how cool this is now.

[medievalcat]

I was going to joke that I always think its funny when people are like "Angelina wouldn't want Hoffman to kill any people ever :(" bc like how do we know that, we unfortunately barely know anything about her but also why would she care if someone like Ivan or the abusive guy at the school died, or yknow the guy who literally killed her, fuck knows none of us do lol. BUT it got me thinking about how...kind of the point of her inclusion in the story is a commentary on society and the legal system's endemic violence against women. Women are killed by partners so much that people just don't even think about it and the law often does nothing at all or enables it or is a part of it. Angelina's death in the story is essentially considered a minor crime that her killer pretty much gets away with legally. Seth Baxter when in his trap even claims he accidentally killed her, a classic tactic used by many men who actually do murder their wives and girlfriends. Angelina was considered an acceptable loss, a forgettable statistic, even before she was killed. She was only in the headlines because she was related to a local detective. The law was never on her side.

In retrospect, when we learn about all this, the horror of Saw IV isn't simply "wait the detective was the killer all along!" Because we see that the trafficker is known to be exploiting young girls- but that these young girls are not evidently considered a priority to help by the law (the fact that the trafficker is a woman doesn't "disprove" that what she did is violence against women). We see that the rapist operates in a motel where there are undoubtedly many witnesses who clearly have not done anything to stop him or to help his victims. We see that the wife-beating child abuser is accosted by Rigg and Hoffman but the abuser's word is backed up and he is protected, and that even the abuser's wife, a victim herself, is too afraid to do anything but support him even though he is hurting a child- reflecting how many women are silent because they know they will not believed. The horror is that with the way the legal system works Hoffman can do more to help abused women as a serial killer than he ever did as a detective.

But then, of course, Hoffman wouldn't have been the serial killer he became if he hadn't been a detective first, and the fact that he was a detective was something utilized by him and John in their endeavors. And even if he saved lives of vulnerable women and girls like his sister by getting rid of Seth Baxter and those people in IV, he still helped John do the same thing those people did to other women- and then did the same thing on his own. With these similar systems, there are similar results. We remember John sent Addison to her torture and death for being a sex worker, with Hoffman's help, further comparing and illuminating the similarities between John's work and the legal system. We see that Hoffman's resentment of Amanda (based in her similarities to Angelina, even their names point this out) that led to him orchestrating her death may have been met with disapproval by John, but was ultimately enabled by his actions, because John thought further torturing Amanda for her trauma, addiction, and self harm was not only correct but helpful. Maybe Hoffman thought he really was "helping" Sidney by putting her in the trap that enabled her to kill her abusive boyfriend, maybe he really did think this was a way of doing what he couldn't do for his sister. But ultimately, if he did help anyone, he did much more harm. Ultimately, Amanda was right. It's all bullshit- the Jigsaw ideology doesn't "save" anyone, just perpetuates the cycle.

[dwonfilm]

Come hell or high water. | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Looming over the Winchesters and [Y/N] is the war between heaven and hell. Dean will ultimately be faced with a choice he’d never be able to make. What will happen?

This will be a multi-part story, not necessarily set in a specific season but around 4-5 (verging on 6 now) would be the best fit.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of alcoholism, violence, sadness.

Mentions: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Bobby Singer, Crowley, other made-up characters to further the plot.

Here’s Part IV if you haven’t read.

Flashbacks are in bold.

Part V:

It had been about a year since Lucifer had ruined Dean’s life. At least.. he thought it was a year. Honestly? He’d given up trying to keep track of time after a month. Frankly if Sam wasn’t keeping the tally on where or when or how.. Dean had no clue. Well.. that wasn’t the entire truth. There was one thing that he could keep track of and that was the alcohol cabinet. It ran out far more often over the course of the last year than it ever had. Sam tried, several times in fact, to get his brother to sober up. Every couple months like clockwork the younger Winchester would try to pick up more pieces of his older brother’s life. Today had just so happened to coincide with that schedule. Sam sighed, walking into the dank motel room that the brothers had been sharing for a few days. They’d been in Phoenix for a couple of days and once this case had come up, Sam knew it was gonna be hard. [Y/N] was from Arizona and having to face this state without her would be hard for them, of course more so for Dean. “Did you bring more whiskey?” Dean’s words were slurring together slightly, but it wasn’t anything that Sam wasn’t used to—there was hardly a day that went by where his older brother wasn’t drinking himself to the point of blacking out.

“Dean, you can’t help me hunt this thing if you’re shitfaced.” Sam again sighed, because as much as he meant that, he knew better than to come back without the booze. He’d tried that a couple of times during the first few months of her absence. Once in New Orleans and the other in Houston. Both times had resulted in fists being thrown. Louisiana was the time where the punch connected, Dean nailing his baby brother square in the jaw—apologizing for it immediately after. Texas had him shoving Sam into the wall and holding him there before breaking down into a fit of tears. “Mhm, yeah, the hell I can’t.” Again Dean’s words slurred into one another and he pulled his hand over his face. “Sammy.. I can’t. I can’t be here knowing that she isn’t with us.. I can’t be here knowing that and be sober. I promise you I’ll lay off on it next case.. please. I can’t do it here.” Dean sighed, his voice raspy and raw with emotion. It was the most sober sentence that he’d uttered in a long time. Sam moved across the room to the bed that was his brother’s for the time being and sat on the edge. Next to it on the nightstand was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. “Dean I know this is hard but..” he paused, not wanting to push his brother but this isn’t healthy and at this rate he was killing his liver and quick. “..this isn’t what [Y/N] would want for you, man. She-“ Dean’s gaze shot upward and the bloodshot nature of his eyes was made clear.

“Don’t. Don’t use her for your own personal gain here.” Again his words sloshed together and Sam just looked at him. “My personal gain? Dean the only thing I’m trying to gain here is my brother not killing himself by drowning in alcohol. She wouldn’t want you killing yourself and making yourself more vulnerable to the shit we hunt day in and day out. I know she was your girlfriend, I know she was the love of your life but she was like my sister and I loved her too.” For so long Sam had buried his own grief, his own guilt for letting [Y/N] make that call and letting her leave, his sadness about not only losing someone he cared deeply for but living every single day to watch his brother killing himself slowly. “I promised her I’d take care of you, Dean.” Sam’s voice was just barely above a whisper. He’d expected his older brother to yell, to shove him off of the bed where they sat, to have yet another heated argument with Dean. What Sam wasn’t expecting however was the deep sigh and the shakiness of his brother’s voice when he did speak. “I know.. I’m sorry Sammy.” Dean’s voice was small, it was clear that they both had used the little bit of silence to begin crying. Another silence washed over the two brothers and it stayed like that for a number of minutes.

“I’m worried about you, Dean. I don’t say these things to make you feel shitty man, I just know she wouldn’t want this for you and I don’t want it either. Cas is working a lead that may be able to help us with getting her back, but right now we need to help these families. I’ve been going over some of these details in my head and I think it might be a witch.” Sam explained, but this only had Dean’s irritation return. “Great. We just had to come to Arizona and it just had to be a witch. Someone up there’s got a real sick sense of humor!” He shouted, looking up knowing that if the angels were still tuned in, they’d have heard him. Sam couldn’t help but sigh softly, it really seemed like the world was stacking the deck. However that was nothing new. “It’s late man, try to get some sleep. I’m gonna look some more and see if there’s something I missed—hell maybe I’m wrong.” It wasn’t likely that he was and both of them knew that. “Yeah, alright.” Sam stood up from the bed and moved over to the little table in the corner of the room. Dean reached into his bag, grabbing the same flannel he’d taken everywhere else. When it started to lose the smell of her, he’d spray it with her perfume. He’d just done so last week, so the smell was strong. Laying it between his arms he would slowly sink down to a laying position. Resting his head on part of the fabric and letting the exhaustion and drunkenness take him to sleep.

It was summer, they’d had a surprisingly quiet week. Sam was at Stanford and so the only person that Dean had except for his dad was [Y/N]. They were laid on Baby’s hood, the night slowly enveloping the daytime sky. It was a good week too, they hadn’t really fought much. Right now they’re just enjoying each other’s company and gazing up at the stars. “I think it’s so funny, we’re so small physically in the world and yet we alter it for the better almost every single day.” [Y/N] spoke softly, her [Y/E/C] eyes fixated upon the sunset overhead. Dean turned on his side to face her with a smirk upon his features. “Sweetheart we both know there’s nothing ‘little’ about me.” Dean replied, winking quickly at her. He was met with a smack to the shoulder while she chuckled softly. “Not what I meant, idiot.” She replied, turning her head to face him. Dean’s expression feigned hurt but he was smiling through the mock ‘offence’. His green eyes flicked upward for a moment to watch the sky darken. “I know, sometimes it feels like we should be welcomed into these towns with a party.” He spoke, sighing softly. “You mean like a hero’s welcome?” [Y/N] asked. Dean simply nodded. “I mean.. we probably should. If even half of the world knew what was really out there.. this entire planet would freak. People like us have been.. we’ve had our whole lives taken from us in a sense and yet we just.. keep going.” Now Dean turned his attention back to [Y/N]. “You mean to tell me you’d wanna be normal?” He asked, quirking his brow. She sighed before looking back up to the sky. “I don’t know.. I was never given the chance to know what normal looked like—this is all I’ve ever known.”

Things got quiet for a little while but Dean’s eyes kept finding their way over to [Y/N]. “If you have a question, you can just ask.” She spoke softly, not moving her gaze from the stars that were now making their appearance in the sky. He never knew how she did that—just knew what he was thinking in a way that wasn’t invasive or supernatural. She just.. knew him. “Did you.. did you think about hanging it up before you met me? After.. your dad?” Dean’s tone was soft, he didn’t bring up [Y/N]’s father much because it was obviously a sensitive subject. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and slowly looked over to meet his gaze. “Did the thought cross my mind? Sure. I was younger, you know probably could’ve scammed my way into some college.” She sighed. “I also was distraught and sad and not thinking with much clarity. By the time you and your dad showed up, I was already convincing myself to look for work. Maybe fate brought you to me.” [Y/N] smiled as she reached over towards Dean, her hand gently cupping his face. She knew he was in his head too much, probably trying to blame himself for keeping her from a ‘normal’ life. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Dean had woken up as her lips touched his, that was a memory that he’d forgotten he had. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes closed to get rid of the tears he knew had built up quickly. Rolling over he looked at the clock. 7:45AM. Turning around he saw that at some point Sam had gone to bed. There was no way he was going back to sleep now nor did he want to, so he opted to take a shower. There was the beginnings of a headache coming on, because for the first time in.. god knows how long he’d actually taken a break in drinking alcohol. Time had gotten away from him until he heard knocking on the bathroom door. “Hey man, leave some hot water for me.” Sam spoke before walking back to the table to get back to work. After a couple minutes Dean emerged from the bathroom and took a glance at the clock. 8:45AM. He turned towards his younger brother to see him eating, a breakfast burrito on the opposite side of the table for him. “Thanks.” He spoke up before sitting in the other chair and unwrapping the food. “No problem.” He responded before taking a bite of his own food, immediately after leaning closer to his screen. “So, unfortunately, I was right. This is definitely a witch.” Sam said, using his touchpad to scroll further down on whatever he was reading. Dean groaned before taking his first bite of the burrito. While he ate, Sam went over the details of the case and where they’d have to go in order to get more answers.

They’d found the witch, who was killing people for their hearts—collecting them to use in some kind of dark spell to grant her and her coven immortality and power. Sam and Dean had located her home after noticing a pattern with where the bodies had been found by police. This house had a storm cellar and it was likely that she was taking her victims down there to extract their hearts. Despite keeping quiet, somehow the witch had been alerted to their presence. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I should’ve known you’d be on my trail.” She spoke, turning away from the woman who she’d kidnapped. “Yeah well, if you know who we are you should know this little killing spree you’re on is finished.” Dean spoke, his gun aimed at the witch. Sam had his gun aimed too and the witch turned fully to face the brothers. “Is that so?” She asked, an eery smile upon her lips. “We can spare the song and dance cause no one’s interested.” Dean spoke up again. It was clear that his nerves were at the end of their rope. Sam didn’t necessarily disagree with his brother but the tension was getting worse. “I mean, we could.. but then I couldn’t mention the fact that I have very powerful friends.” She continued. “Why would we care who your friends are?” Sam asked, confused that this was the plan to try and get them to spare her life. “I have a spell for immortality and power growth, doesn’t that make you think about what other powerful spells my coven possesses? Ones that could maybe, free trapped people?” She continued and suddenly it clicked in Sam’s brain. “Don’t.” He warned the witch.

Dean quirked a brow but didn’t turn or move, keeping his eyes and his aim on the witch. “What? You don’t want to help your brother?” She asked, the younger Winchester getting increasingly irritated. “What are you talking about?” Dean asked, which caused Sam to groan. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. “People talk, people whisper. I’ve heard all sorts of things about you two—two who used to be three.” Dean’s stomach twisted in knots. It was clear what she’d been hinting at now and it left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. Sam’s protective instincts took over and he pushed his way in front of his brother. “That’s enough.” Sam warned, his nerves being pushed. However this witch knew that she was in a matter of living or dying and wasn’t going to give up so easy. “What? Hey, if you want to leave her suffer in the pits of hell.. that’s cold but I support it.” Dean winced at this statement. He spent so many nights restless, wondering what kinds of torture Lucifer was making [Y/N] endure—knowing full well that he loved the emotional side of things almost as much as the physical. “I said that’s enough.” Sam repeated, knowing that despite his older brother having a hatred for witches, he’d very likely do anything to free [Y/N]. “You think I’m just trying to keep myself alive, but like I said I know lots of powerful witches. There’s a spell out there that can help. You just have to come back with me. I help you, you help me. We’ll get [Y/N] and—“ Suddenly the witch dropped to the ground, dead. Sam had heard enough and once her name was spoken it was the final straw. Dean moved to free the girl who had almost been another victim, getting her out of there.

Six months later.

Fort Wayne, Indiana—the boys had just finished a hunt. Vamps nest was completely wiped out. After cleaning up, Sam basically forced Dean to go to the local bar. Not because he wanted anything from his brother but he knew that today marked a year and a half since [Y/N] was forced to go to hell alongside Lucifer. Staying in the motel room would only mean that Dean would get too in his head. Sam was hoping that the music and the pool alongside a bit of alcohol would be enough to keep his mind at bay, at least for a little while. Dean sat in a booth sipping his beer while Sam had gone for refills. There was a blonde who’d been eyeing Dean every so often, clearly interested in something. Seeing that he was alone she figured it was the best time to approach him. Confidently she walked over to the table, swaying her hips just a bit with each step. Once she reached the booth she paused, seeing if Dean would react in any way to her presence. About a minute went by and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even turned his head to look in her direction. She cleared her throat which broke Dean from his daze. “Can I help you?” He asked flatly, looking up at the woman for a brief few seconds before gazing forward again. “I was just wondering if I could join you, you seem lonely over here.” She tucked some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “I’ll pass.” He stated plainly, hoping that Sam would be back any moment. It was clear her confidence took a blow but she was trying to remain determined. “C’mon.. I’ll get you a refill. What would it hurt to get to know one another?” She continued and it looked like Dean was about to snap but Sam finally approached the booth. “My brother said no, so, go back to whatever you were doing.”

Scoffing the blonde turned on her heel and walked back to her table and friends. Sam slid the fresh beer over towards his brother and sighed before sitting down. “Sorry, I never thought about that.” He spoke up, lifting the glass bottle to his lips. “About what?” Dean asked, but then he clued in. “It’s fine. I never thought about the possibility either. Usually..” Now it was the older brother’s turn to sigh. Usually [Y/N] would either scare the girls off altogether, making it obvious she and Dean were an item or she’d tell them off directly—hell she’d even fist fought a couple. Sam felt bad and in this moment was questioning whether dragging Dean out was doing more harm than good. He watched as the eldest of the two took a swig of the beer he’d been handed. Time ticked, a few minutes of silence between the brothers where the noises of the bar took hold. Suddenly Sam’s phone rang, so he flipped it open to answer the call. “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” He spoke, Dean’s mind having him only paying half attention. It had been several minutes since his brother spoke and that finally had Dean’s full attention. “What is it?” He asked, the expression on his younger brother’s face unreadable. “Yeah that was Dean, he’s with me.” Sam replied, to Bobby, with Dean leaning forward to attempt to hear whatever the conversation was about but he the table stopped him from getting too close. “Sam.” Dean said sternly, trying to get the information. He held up one finger to try and get his brother to wait. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be on our way. Bye.” Sam closed his phone and looked at his brother but the expression was still blank.

“Sam what’s going on?” Dean’s tone laced with worry, confusion and a couple other emotions. “We need to go to Bobby’s—now.” He replied before standing up and beginning to walk towards the door. Blinking a bit, the older of the two was still in a sort of a daze. “Dean! Come on!” Sam called out, which had his brother sliding out the booth and quickly catching up to his younger brother. They walked to the impala and Sam got in the driver’s side, leaving Dean to get into the passenger seat. Flicking his wrist now, Baby’s engine purred to life and the younger Winchester pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. First they had to stop at the motel to grab their stuff and check out. Sam took the duty of loading up their things while he gave Dean the key to return to the office. He’d ran the key back and thanked them for the room before returning to Sam who was just closing the trunk. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Dean asked, resting his forearms on Baby’s roof. Sam was double checking that he had everything before closing the door to the room. “Sam!” He exclaimed, causing the taller of them to turn towards his brother. “What Dean?!” His mind had been racing ever since he hung up from the call with Bobby. “Are you gonna clue me in? Why do we need to rush to Bobby’s?” Sam knew his brother was right to ask, it wasn’t like him to keep things from his older brother but it wasn’t his call—he also wasn’t sure on things. Hell Bobby wasn’t sure either. “I.. I’m not sure if it’s something and Bobby asked me to just get there, with you, as fast as we can.” He explained, fidgeting with the keys to the impala in his hand.

Dean was confused, searching his younger brother’s eyes for any kind of hint as to what was so important. He wanted to argue, wanted to push for more information but at the end of the day he trusted Bobby. “Okay.” He said, pulling on the handle and getting into the passenger seat. “Okay.” Sam mirrored, slipping into the drivers side yet again and backing out from the motel and taking off down the road. Sioux Falls was their destination and if they could make it without any stops that would be best. Dean’s mind was racing—it could be so many different things. They had so much going on that it was hard to pinpoint what issue Bobby had cracked or what he was getting close to cracking. Man their lives were a mess, a chaotic and insane mess that most humans would never be able to grasp. Sam had a firm grip on the wheel as he drove, which he’d been doing most of the time over the last year and a half. Often times Dean had too much whiskey in his system and honestly, his older brother wasn’t putting up much of a fight about it. When it came time to drive to a different state, Dean was close to the point of blacking out anyway. Most drives during this time was Sam being alone with his thoughts while Dean passed out and slept. Slept until a nightmare woke him up, or sometimes worse, a dream that felt so real that Dean forgot [Y/N] was gone. Those hit him the hardest, the realization that she was in hell along with the sobriety like an 18 wheeler running him down. Nightmares were a toss up. It was either stress and trauma from his own time in hell or it was imagining what kind of suffering that [Y/N] was being forced to endure. Sam wished he could do more, but all he could do was offer moral support and watch.

It was almost two days later by the time that Sam and Dean were pulling into Bobby’s yard. Neither of the brothers could pinpoint where it came from, or when, but their anxiety was piqued. Neither of them really knew what they were walking into but both of them basically sprinted up the steps and knocked once before walking into the house. “Hello boys.” Sam and Dean both wide eyed when they saw Crowley sitting in the living room. “W-what are you doing here?” Sam asked, Dean wasting no time and drawing his gun. “Where’s Bobby?” Dean demanded, but his question was answered immediately after when the older man walked in with a couple of books. “Dammit, boy. Put that thing away.” Bobby spoke to Dean, which had a look of confusion cross the eldest Winchester’s face. “What?” He asked, looking at Singer. “Put the goddamn gun away if you wanna get down to it. We don’t got much time.” Bobby replied, flipping through the pages of one of the books he’d brought in. “What does Crowley have to do with things?” Sam asked, to which the King of Hell laughed. His gaze shifting between both of the brothers before speaking. “Well I’m here to help you lot bust [Y/N] out of Hell.”

Author’s note: Hi! Sorry if the chapters are getting shorter, I can’t tell, but I feel like the story is still being told sufficiently. I still haven’t decided how many parts this will be but I know for the most part where I’m taking it but just wanted to add that in—I feel like the first couple chapters were longer. I guess the lengths just vary with what I’m trying to convey. Hope you guys enjoy! 😊

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

[georgette-mademoiselle]

Georgette and sekido part 8

overthinking

This one is kinda a continuation to the last one i made yesterday

Even since the beginning of there first encounter she had always tried to keep away from him because he was very intimidating but after finally bieng alone to talk to him that fateful day there relationship started to slowly develop from there but would revert back when his anger got the best of him towards her accidentally.

But on this particular day she was avoiding him for a week now and soon his rage would dwell into fear he thought he was going to lose her for good and choose to be with the others instead of him permanently.

He was in his working station in his room mot even able to concentrate as he fidgets around his pen while the other massages his temple his leg making the same movement as his working hand he was nervous more so that his beloved could possibly be thinking to leave him now because he went to far in his words.

He may be the embodiment of anger but still shares the same anxiety as hantengu just not to that extreme. Soon his chest almost felt tight and suddenly hes gulping down his weakness near the edge of wanting to have a paranoid breakdown never in his life has he felt such guilt for his actions not like this hes not used to this feeling at all and it only agitates him more that hes in this vulnerable state of despair and shame.

But then the door slides open he had forgotten to lock it. it was georgette, she had come to check up on him after never leaving his room all day today sne was worried for his well-being but before she could even say anything something was already wrong by the shaking body gesture and hands clutched onto his head "sekido!" She called.

Immideatly he jolted to her way. His eyes where wide in fear and it looked as if he was fighting back tears seeing the glisten of his eyes while sweating. His panick attack was about to hit full blown but her presence and look of genuine concern blocked it from happening.

"g-gerogie..." Just before she could move towards him with open arms sekido jumped out of his seat to hold her missing her warmth her gentlness her scent everything about this woman he missed it all. Wrapping his arms around her waist before he fell to his knees the wetness of her dress as he silently sobs of relief.

"sekido! Sekido! Hey whats wrong? My thunder storm why do you weep?" She kneels down letting him rest upon her lap as he lets it all out fingers caressing his soft auborn colored hair.

His words took time to put together, pulling together to stop from hyperventilating until finally words managed to escape his mouth.

" i-i-...im sorry! Ok there! Sorry! I know im not the kindest of person in the world infact i dont even deserve to be treated with such gesture! Y-you deserve better ok! Go with ai hes more empathetic o-or urogi! He can make you smile! Even stupid karaku would be better of with you! J-just...*fighting the urge not to cry again* anyone but me ok! I dont want to hurt you like that ever again I'm sorry georgie im so sorry!...."

She sat there and listened to his woes, she had no idea that he would have been affected by her absence, she only wanted to give him room to breath no matter how long it taked but that wasnt the case sekido missed her since day one of leaving him alone and now his guilt took a toll on him that she would leave him for somone else somone better and kinder. Yet little did sekido know he was kind a very different kind of kindness that was rare to see.

" my love, why do you say such nonsense? I already have the most kindest most understanding man right her on my lap." She moves her other hand to rub his shoulder.

" your motherly nature when you look out for your comrades is something i admire, perhaps strict but nonetheless its because you care for there safety"

" and dont think ive forgotten the time when you nurtured me during the time i came home with my face disfigured you still complimented me thoughtful after i was feeling low self esteem in that moment and to top it off you even came to my care when i was sick due to my ability even though you didnt have to. i think about it often "she chuckles placing a kiss on his forhead.

" you are loved sekido, and you are wanted. Nobody is perfect and thats ok...im not eather. No matter how rocky our relationship gets i want us to be able to solve it together because at the end of the day while i love the other three i want to be with *you* more than anyone sekido.."

He listened and the more he did the more he was gaining his composure again. He needed to hear that this was something hes been needing to hear for a long time now. Hes flawed and thats ok she is aswell. As his worries finally drift away sekido finally had the courage to slowly lift himself up to her nuzzling on the crook of her neck the same she did to him during that day of her mental breakdown.

"thank you, my rose..."

"i really needed to hear that..." He deeply sighed feeling true relaxation now.

" i think if you hadnt had come here any time i would have already bashed my head againts the wall along with the other idiots."

She only laughed

" where going to have to work on a different approach for a better anger management for example"

Hands him a rubber stress ball "tada!'

"....what the fuck is that?'" he looked at it with disgust the texture feeling wrong to him

" a stress management ball you can squeeze it throw it and smash it to let your anger all out see? Im good at this!"

He just stares at it and then clutches it with his fists then snorts.

" well this sure looks fun.."

"because it is my little lightning bolt ❤️"

Dividers by @/elryisia

[insufferableprotagonistpoll]

Round 2

Propaganda why Charlie Morningstar is insufferable:

"Her entire personality was rewritten to be insufferable. She behaved like an idiot who didn't understand anyone or the problems they had. Her ideas were shit and so were her dramas."

"She was insufferable in the the Masquerade episode. It infanticided her so much, it ruined any enjoyment I might have had in her. She is supposed to be an adult woman trying to safe sinners meanwhile she acts and is treated like a toddler??"

"I know her whole character is naive and innocent. I even liked her at first. But with every rewatch I find her more annoying. She is waaay too naive and doesn't listen to anyone else's concerns like Vaggie's or Lucifer's, instead just believing everyone will listen to her. I might be alone in this, I just hate this archetype of naivety and innocence to this degree."

"Rich girl who doesn't consider other people's needs and boundaries until it gets too far. Literally builds an entire hotel to get sinners to heaven WITHOUT first seeing if her theory is actually possible. She tells Heaven AFTER it was built if they could offer some help or support instead of before it. Toxic to her girlfriend. Literally complains about having daddy issues when there's no issues to be found. Her father is depressed and although he doesn't like her hotel concept he never shoots her down for it. She acts like the world revolves around her rainbow ideas when literally noone cares. You being a princess means nothing to most people. Get off your high horse and learn what it means to be anything but princess of hell. The narrative wants us to sympathize with Charlie but gives us no reason to beyond Quirky™ and 'oh she's so nice' SHUT UP you're literally lying to the audience about Charlie. For all she claims to be, Charlie sure is a self-centered brat trying to live out some heroic fantasy with unwilling co-stars she forces to bend to her will."

Propaganda why Dean Winchester is insufferable:

"This man is racist against anyone other than humans and abused the people he was supposed to love the most. He literally abandons Castiel at his most vulnerable and never lets Sam leave the whole hunting monsters thing. Worst part is that the fandom will get behind him and defend him because what, he’s pretty? Pretty much a terrible person, more like. I sympathize with his backstory but Dean has ZERO character development during the course of 15 whole seasons. When he DOES have development it involves abusing someone. Sam tries to be a normal person and always gets punished for it. The only hint we have that Dean might’ve been trying to change is a piece of paper in the final episode AFTER HE DIES. then guess what? Sam lives out his whole life and has a family 😭 that’s very, very telling."

"misogynistic scumbag. theres also a few different times that dean finds teenagers sexy with the most recent and prominent example that i can recall being the scooby doo crossover episode in season 13 where hes super into daphne who in the version they chose for the episode is 15-16 and is interacting with her as if shes a real person cause they got magicked into the episode. he treats everyone around him like shit and the only time the narrative agrees that thats a bad thing is when he has the mark of cain put on him and hes acting no differently than he does usually its just now acknowledged that hes treating others like shit. ive been rewatching the show for shits and giggles with a friend and wow he really does not treat anyone well but i wanna focus on how he treats sam for a second cause dude's hobby seems to be ignoring what his brother wants and lying to sam about doing stuff that directly concerns him the demon blood and souless things are reasonable cause those were both Bad for sam but theyre still part of a wider pattern and the most prominent example of this being when dean tricks sam into letting gadreel possess him and actually gaslights sam about it with the whole ordeal ending when its revealed gadreel lied about who he was and while possessing sam murders a friend of theirs. his voice is just also stupid as fuck im sorry this is just petty but he just sounds like hes trying so hard to be gruff n intimidating but he just sounds like a kid pretending to be batman"

"Dean’s list of sins is crazy long because of how long the show ran, but the key thing for me is that post-locking Sam in the bunker (season 4 I think?), I just can’t enjoy their relationship anymore. I normally love their sibling dynamic, but Dean’s ultimate worst past-the-point-of-no-return moment for me was demonizing (pun intended) his little brother for being “addicted” to demon blood, which only happened because of a series of events that were either Dean’s or someone else’s fault, not Sam’s. I also really dislike how the fandom treats Dean like this angel (pun intended) who has done no wrong and even tries to justify the MULTIPLE times he’s beaten up and otherwise abused his little brother. Canon Dean is like the polar opposite of fanon Dean: he’s homophobic and racist (jokes about a Black man being sexually assaulted in prison), misogynistic (take a shot every time he calls a woman a slur and you’ll die of alcohol poisoning), and abusive."

"Misogynistic asshole and too many of the things he does get treated as not actually bad or even good by both fans and the show when he violates peoples autonomy and is incredibly abusive to the people he loves the most. And it wouldn't be as annoying if people didn't justify so many of his behaviors or if he ever changed or even just was seen as a bad guy in the show more than he is."

">Was a misogynist (loved to call women skanks, bitches, hoes)

>Used gay as an insult multiple time during the show's run (idc if he's gay an homophobic, that's still insulting)

>Beat up his brother for being possessed

>Beat up his brother for losing his soul (not his brother's fault)

>Used dubious consent to get his brother possessed in a different unrelated possession incident after possession was being used (badly...this is supernatural after all) as a metaphor for SA

>Threatened to murder his brother when he was hallucinating (yay we aren't ableist)

>Locked a child up in a box

>Threatened to kill the child he locked up in a box

>Made a creepy, sexual comment about a barely-legal high school girl

>Got the woman and kid he was living with memory-wiped"

"Really mean to Cas (called him a child, zero respect for him, calls him family and casts him out when the angels are looking for him), and an absolute dick to Jack (threatening to kill him CONSTANTLY)"

[w98pops]

TW: SUICIDE MENTION, VIOLENCE

i knew i said i would take a little break, but ive been mentally declining a lot and drawing my silly guys is my way of coping. I never actually properly drew Wendy from 2301, so im filling in the blanks.

I'd like to think of her as a person who never actually... grows up. She just kinda gets taller and more sad over time. Wendy was always very vulnerable but cheerful, and House kinda groomed her into a serious and politically aware person, still unbelievably vulnerable but a viable subject nonetheless. I always had this problem with writing her relationship with another canon character, no one realistically would give a fuck about her and her opinions. Sure, maybe Arcade will pity Wendy because she's "stupid" from a neurotypical point of view, but other than that, she doesn't have any weight in any political conversation that's going on in the Mojave. So I made her really fucking stubborn. Annoyingly so. Wendy just... gets the job done. She's resourceful, efficient and very easy to manipulate. A perfect fit for a House's courier, I think. She doesn't question his orders, she does not care for consequences as long as she has House as her cover (a trait she inherited from her step-father) and she's sometimes sociopathic and numb to voices of empathy. Not in a "edgelord murder killer girl" way but more like. She doesn't see people who hurt her as humans. A coping mechanism that would probably be the end of her, sometime in the future. I mean, she did confront Benny and got really physical. There was no way she could've win a fight against a grown ass man, and Benny did beat the shit out of her, but in the end he was the one with a cracked open skull. I just like to think that her pure madness and helplessness was enough to fuel her mind and overpower something she had no chance against in the first place. SPEAKING OF CHANCE. That's why I think she would totally get along with Chance, the Khan from the comic. I don't really put a thought about how he would've survived or joined her, but they're pretty much soulmates. They have very different backgrounds, personalities, literally anything, but Chance recognises her rage. Her inability to do what's right and the constant fight against unfightable (?) circumstances she's facing every day. I'd like to think he's autistic too. As a treat.

So yeah, she's super uncertain about anything in her life, and that makes her a very useful tool in the hands of a right man. Mr. House mastefully manipulated her personality in a conventional way, taught her the secret and mysterious knowledge of "masking" and sat her down for a few years to teach her ways of the capital and created this really sad but smart and charismatic politician with no real political voice whatsoever. She's also very cute and sweet looking so yeah. He made himself a Tandi. 😭😭 Also he scanned her brains, which would totally not be a big plot point for the future.

Almost perfect, but Sharky is here too, for some reason. He's the biggest pain in the House's ass since Benny. He has a certain emotional intellect, not easy to bribe or manipulate in mental or physical way, he really fucking cares for his sister, and is very aware of the things The Big Guy does to her. See, Sharky wasn't raised by his sister, she was a child herself at that time, and his mother didn't play much role either, too busy bickering with Aletus and then later too busy drinking and fucking in Gomorrah. Sharky was raised by the Strip and the rules of Wasteland. He might not be the smartest guy alive, but emotionally he's mature beyond belief. He's very observant, empathetic and cunning person. Even tho he was mute most of his childhood because of child neglect and untreated autism, he has incredible social skills and a Yes-man in his basement he found while renovating the Tops. He has a plan. Not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.

I have so much OC material I'm ought to write a fanfic. Or a comic, idk. In my dreams, sure, but it's still refreshing to talk about my ocs and draw them, and recieving feedback and praise for my storytelling skills 😭😭😭 it means a lot. Thank you all for reading this far!!!