#like the way i approached all my characters stems from :

[ochibrochi]

spontaneous magic manifestation was NOT mentioned in the parenting handbook 😬

I know this isn’t how magic in dc works, but the fact that Damian’s ancestry includes some pretty powerful magic users is… INTERESTING 🤔? Drabble under the cut!

I wanna preface that I'M NOT SAYIN' that Damian should/does have magic powers, but there’s still so much unexplored potential with Damian's character, and the thought that he has a dormant adeptness in magic is somewhat compelling to me. Most importantly it would FREAK! BRUCE! OUT!!!!! What is this, magic puberty 😭??

By DC laws, anyone has the ability to learn magic, but it is also possible to be an innate ability. The Al Ghuls are no strangers to the occult-- Ra's has had increasingly been portrayed as a magic user, and the recent establishment of his mother being a sorceress/witch?? Even Talia dabbled in a bit of magic, I think. There is a catch that their power is suggested to be due to Lazarus exposure, but for arguments sake let's say the Al Ghul lineage is inherently proficient in magic (and Lazarus exposure simply enhances it).

I can't recall "magic" being a part of Damian's training/upbringing (I'm still slowly catching-up on Damian comics so apologies if I miss any canon examples of magic use). Not sure why Talia wouldn't want her little "heir to an ancient assassin empire baby" to learn magic, but it would at least give reason to Damian not knowing about his magic potential, or lack of interest in it.

Through the power of pseudo storytelling, what if Damian's encounter with Mother Soul could have triggered a manifestation of magic that was once dormant; like a pressure cooker waiting to explode with energy when it hasn't been given a safe outlet.

I've yet to read a satisfying arc where Damian truly gets to contemplate his Al Ghul roots outside of "dad is good guy, mum is bad guy". Damian's initial character growth stems from him running away from, and renouncing his association with the League (i.e. "I'm nothing like you, mother and grandfather!").

The most recent thing I've read was Robin (2021), and whilst Damian is much more cordial with his mother, there's still an emotional distance and sense of distrust/resentment (for good reason, even if the context was some cartoonishly evil writing). But there is a silver-lining that they still appear to be fond of each other, in a melancholy kind of way.

Realizing he's "genetically" primed for magic would be especially confronting to Damian. There's no denying his Al Ghul blood, forcing him to confront a facet of himself he can no longer ignore or reject. A family that he likely has to approach for help/guidance.

Damian is put in a position of acknowledging this power could be used for good, to be stronger, to fight crime, balancing it with the implication that what he possesses could be rooted in dark magic (Lazarus enchantment).

If he decides to embrace it, would that be too much of an endorsement of the Al Ghul's dark occultism? Can he separate the two ideas? What if he can't control it? What if he accidentally hurts someone? What if has the ability to save someone where his other skills fall short?

Ideally, I'd love for this hypothetical story to lead into Damian exploring his Al Ghul heritage more intimately, historically, and spiritually (à la RSoB: Year of Redemption adventures). Another little coming-of-age self discovery journey.

I have my own little personal thoughts on what Damian decides to do with his magic powers, but I'd like to leave that open to interpretation... By the end of it I hope that he will at least find some forgiveness over resentment, and a balance between accepting that side of his family a little easier. It is finally a sense of inner peace :)

Any thoughts? Did I get any characterisation wrong? Let's talk over on my DC blog @arkhamochi! I'm currently trying to read all Damian-centric comics until I catch up with the current run. I'm hungry for discussion and analysis!!!!!!

[brynn-lear]

When Cuckoos Throw Ores [Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader]

Questionable Overview: After transmigrating to Teyvat, you and Jing Yuan had lived like family on your shared apartment as getting-by descenders. But, you made an error too grave. You hid the anonymous love letters you received from the person you should’ve trusted the most— and now you’ve got yourself a broken mind. [Fic written for May June]

CWs/tags: yandere themes, isekai, moments where you wish Jing Yuan just committed murder instead so it would hurt less, mentions of failed childbirth, nadia & vlad are adorable, implied hysteria, cute n' wholesome beginning w/ found family to "man... man.", gaslighting gatekeep is JY's passion.

"I'm an adult, Jing Yuan! I think I have the right to leave as I please."

Have you ever been so incredibly fascinated by such a mundane object that all worldly noise drowns?

"The right to trample on my heart? To leave me to drown in my despair while you obsess over a single ore without a single thought for me? I must say, it doesn’t seem very sound. Stay put while I call for Doctor Baizhu."

Have you ever had your hand reach out ever so slightly without you realizing such? For your fingers to curl— for you to seize a trinket as though you were compelled by an existence— an idea higher than any mortal comprehension? As though it was fate? As though it was a fruit you weren't meant to take a bite off?

But the most mundane of all…

"There’s no need! Because great General and Emanator of the Hunt Jing Yuan—"

Have you ever lamented a life that "never" happened?

"— I have the right to mourn the happy ending you took from me!"

Though those uninitiated will rehash the root of events in your arrival to the chasm, the most knowledgeable would start the accounts from your arrival to Teyvat.

You did not step foot alone.

When your worldline was destroyed, so, too, was Jing Yuan's. 

Lady Ningguang greeted you both with a good measure of skepticism. You were both "descenders.", though it was soon made evident that your origins are different. He was from "Xianzhou Loufu," and you were from "Earth."  Course, despite your shared tragic circumstances, not everything shall be handed on a silver platter for unfortunate souls. Ningguang was kind enough to provide you both with a shared apartment complex near the fishing port and since then, you and Jing Yuan had a bond not so dissimilar from siblings. He got a job as a general, and your current position is a little more flexible than your previous one.

Whatever principles and studies were available in the previous realms you lived in, they were carried over in Teyvat. Each word circulating about Jing Yuan’s undefeated sword and lance techniques makes you smile; he, in turn, would enthusiastically applaud your sold artworks and STEM innovations. It makes you wholly embarrassed every time he makes what is supposed to be a celebration of his mission’s success into a congratulatory speech for what you’ve done in the same timeframe. Didn’t matter how minute it was. His comrades had already considered the long-standing tradition as a not-so-private joke.

His lack of personal praise worries you sometimes…

There’s a stark difference in your approach to this new life. You mourned for yours being gone; while he doesn’t speak much about his.

“No rush,” he'd say. “All truths shall reveal itself in due time.”

You know about his world, though vaguely. He has a striking resemblance to the character from Honkai: Star Rail. Course, that implies he had gone through similar ordeals as the character. 

“I am an old man, there is nothing for me to grieve.” He told you once. “I have… already witnessed comrades pass, and then some. Have you encountered the phrase: there are fates worse than death?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes.

“I… find it easier to assume that it might be the only way to put old conflicts to rest.” He shook his head and downed his final shot of baijiu. Yuan sighed, tasting the aftermath in his breath.

“It’s better to put a permanence in death than another forced rebirth.”

He poured you a shot.

"Some memories are better left forgotten. And that applies to you, too."

Whatever he said felt untranslatable to you, hence, you gave up on making more inquiries. If the day comes and he wishes to open up, you'll be there for him anyway.

Or so you thought.

“Heard you’re planning to add another medal to your jacket.” 

Jing Yuan nearly halted from tying his long hair up. You watched his shoulders tremble, likely from trying to compose himself.

“Ha! You've heard a half-truth, I wasn't scheming on anything, it was merely handed to me.” His tone was calm, but you heard the well-hidden smugness.

You shrugged and sipped your coffee nonchalantly. 

… You seriously wish his uniform didn't hug his form that good. Just staring at him makes the room feel degrees hotter. 

You cleared your throat.

“I didn't say anything about schemes, Jing Yuan. Suspicious.”

“Oh?” He hummed, almost sultry for your ears.

…Curse him and his damn beatific smiles.

This playful banter is as natural as the dawn of day. Rather than spending the early morning getting ready for the day, you've both grown accustomed to teasing the other person. He, in his finely ironed uniform, and you, in your comfy pajamas. 

“Since when have I besmirched my name by squandering time? Rude of you to imply that slothfulness rules over my life.” Jing Yuan joked before he moved another piece. “You wound me, dear (Y/n).”

Due to the nature of the conversation, you hadn't thought of your next move much as you continued to probe him. “And what exactly are you doing right now instead of reporting to the Qixing, General?”

He smirked. “I am on-duty, am I not?”

“By talking to me?”

“I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.”

You paused. 

Person of Interest…?

Might as well curse him and his fancy cursive way of implying something too. 

Your nose scrunched. “Are you saying I'M on the Qixing’s watchlist?!—”

“Not in a bad light; don’t worry your pretty head over such menial matters,” he ruffled your hair as he craned over, gazing at your disgruntled morning expression with a loving vigor. “They have an eye for your talent. No Ministry would ever obsess over a clean criminal record.”

You grumbled as you attempted to fix your hair, despite lacking any energy. “Thanks, that calms me down. Especially with the talks about criminal activity on the rise and all.”

He laughed at your snarkiness.

“Is this your best attempt at prying information? I must say, your current occupation suits you. I can now place a finger as to why the thought of Lady Ningguang hiring you as a profiler put me in tremendous unease.”

“Oh don’t be a prick, Yuan.” You chuckled heartily as you gave him a playful slap— which he no doubt avoided. “But seriously, can’t you tell me more about what’s happening?”

There were no further words needed. Such rumors had been on the forefront of the people’s minds: a group of rogue “mercenaries” had found new temptations in banditry— and had the nerve to stew misfortunes on the main harbor itself. As a newly enforced general, Jing Yuan had, of course, been subjected to handling this situation under the ever-watchful gaze of the Qixing. A challenge, as he likes to label it. Whatever helps him sleep at night, you’d reply.

Although, it would certainly soothe YOUR insomnia better if he were to divulge even a hair-sliver of detail in regards to how “safe” this mission truly was.

“(Y/n), there is no cause for concern.” He pulled back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know my repertoire— else I wouldn’t consider you a close friend.”

Your heart ached for a second.

In small snippets from the multiple conversations you’ve had with him, you knew he kept his list of close friends few. There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he talks about those named Baiheng, Jingliu, Yingxing, and Dan Feng in passing. 

“And I’m just worrying over you,” you lightheartedly glared and waved your hand dismissively. “You know, like a real close friend.”

You both grinned in unison as if telling each other that neither would back down from this “argument” any time soon. He snorted and messed your hair up more. Over the time you’ve spent in each other’s company, your near-telepathic way of conversing has become quite an eerie issue for other mutual friendships. 

Not that either of you minded this. It’s always nice to be understood. 

“I know that look in your eye. Don’t add a part two from last night’s horror stories, please.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave,” he buttoned his jacket. “Last reminder before I go: you have arranged a meeting with Nadia this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” you huffed. “But unlike you, I don’t sleep in and forget my schedule.”

You swore that even after the door was closed, you heard him chuckle yet again. After that, he was gone.

Honestly, with someone with a “life-loving” temperament like him, you’re unsure if he’s easy to please— or too damn good at faking it for his good.

You heard soft knocks against your window.

Slowly, a grin forms on your lips.

“Hello, little man…” You cooed as you stood up and opened for not only the fresh Liyue morning breeze to enter…

But for a diligent little cuckoo bird to deliver its very special package as well.

You’ve always had a soft spot for animals…

“Hmm?”

Your eyes softened as it dropped its parcel and leaned its body against you, warming itself by sitting cozily on your window ledge. This little bird is quite the skilled messenger— always dropping by as soon as Jing Yuan takes his leave. As to why it suspiciously arrives as soon as he is gone, you’re unsure. Such a sneaky creature; you can’t help but adore it.

That’s not to say its deliveries are not as equally charming.

You chuckled as you elegantly unwrapped the ribbon. The letter was elegantly written in a scrawl you’ve familiarized even with eyes closed for the past months, yet it still holds an intensity that makes your heart flutter. 

There it was. The two words that keep you going better than any coffee brew.

“My dearest, (Y/n),….”

“Another letter from Vlad, I’d hope?” You sneaked from behind.

Nadia yelped, hitting you almost immediately. The delay was surely from being on a lovelorn cloud-nine, but her Fatui training that earned her last name definitely should’ve made you double-think.

You shriveled at the pain and she awkwardly cradled you.

“Oh shucks— I’m so sorry, (Y/n)! I-I didn’t realize it was y-y— Don’t scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hissed, blaming only yourself for the stinging aftermath. “I-I’ll get over it.”

Nadia guided you to the empty seat beside her. As soon as you were seated, she wasted no time to spill.

“The contents were far too adorable for my heart, oh, dear Tsaritsa, you NEED to read this.” 

An eyebrow was raised. Saying you had a suspicion that something like this would happen would be an understatement— when it came to Nadia, it was more like routine. It had been regular for you and her to get together at least once a month to chat over letters that you both received. Nothing about the time you spent with her was dull. She's the reason you adapted to the Liyue way of life so well. As you were both foreign to the culture— you and Jing Yuan are admittedly the extreme cases— you and her were eager to recount experiences in times of distress. And times of pure unbridled lovesick joy, such as this.

“C’mon, pass it.” You tried to say cooly, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed your high school-like excitement.

“Same time.” Nadia huffed. "Can't have you gatekeeping your own letter!"

You pulled out yours from your purse.

Nadia wasn’t the only one with something to present to the class. This is just like a teacher forcing students to read their discreetly passed notes out loud. 

Nadia has her Vlad.

You have your Nay Jung I.

Instantly, you both suppressed a giggle in the abrupt exchange.

Nay Jung I. You know little about him, and that intrigue keeps the fire going. When you see a white cuckoo passing by the window, you immediately know it means well. A sight that makes your heart skip a beat. Instead of pushing eggs, it slips a love letter whenever Jing Yuan isn’t around. All coming from a man you can’t track down.

That’s right.

You have a secret admirer.

As you read through the middle of Vlad’s letter for Nadia, you heard your very-much-an-adult friend bite back a squeal in front of you. Nay Jung I may sound like a feminine name, but he was a man. You could’ve sworn you saw Xiangling laugh from the corner of your eye as Nadia tugged your sleeve around like a fool.

“Oh my God?! He wrote that?!” Her lips were akin to wobbly lines toddlers would draw when mimicking the sun’s rays. 

“I find myself constantly catching glimpses of you in my daydreams, my mind flooded with what could be— what should be. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I fear it won’t take long before I can no longer bear the thought of being without you… What?! That’s so SWEET?!” Nadia clutched your love letter tightly, eyes wide as though she was the recipient.

Xiangling, bless her soul, had to peek behind her.

“I wish I could have the courage to reveal myself to you. When I doubt myself, my thoughts turn to you… Aww… I wonder who Mister Nay is and what did you do to get him this in love?” Xiangling playfully pouted, which made Nadia grin wider, almost teasing her. “Geez. When will I get a boy to send me letters?”

“I’m sure you’re going to get one or two someday. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?” Nadia shrugged as she folded the paper and hid it. “Plus, I fear you’re too young for this.”

“Careful, Dia, she’s the one preparing our food.” You joked.

Nadia has grown more friendly to locals for the better since you started sharing meals here. Everyone knows the feelings between her and Vlad were mutual— but neither of them was willing to confess. With Nadia hoping he initiates, and him densely hesitant on whether she reciprocates. One of them can end this phase should they abandon pride or cowardice.

But Nay Jung I?

You can’t find his records anywhere… And he had told you that it is a fake name by your fourth letter, much to your chagrin.

So, you’ve settled with this arrangement. For now, you are both friends, despite knowing he has feelings for you from the start.

“Mister Nay definitely has it bad for you, Mx. (Y/n).” She gave you a closed-eyed smile. “You need to write back immediately! The man’s probably starving for it!— Oh, right, the pot!!!”

As the chef rushed back after being distracted, you gave Nadia’s letter back to her.

“Any chance of rain?” You asked.

“Cloudy with negative one percent chance that I’ll run to Northland Bank and confess to Vlad.” Nadia spoke sheepish;y.

“That’s at least five percent higher than yesterday.”

“Well, this last letter was adorable.” She swooned.

“Mx. (Y/n), you seem incredibly free at the moment, care to have a chat?”

You turned to look at the new person who joined in.

Fur coat, a distinct mole placement, a sharp haircut, and eyes self-assured enough to conceal their need for urgent assistance, it has to be none other than—

“Miss Yelan,” you gave her a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Nadia sat up straight, shifting to her work mode. “Is there some business you require from the Northland Bank?”

“I have no quarry with you, Madam Nadia, what I do want—” Yelan tilted her head, her eyes calculating. “Is to speak to (Y/n) in private.”

You paused, recalling the conversation you had this morning.

‘I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.’

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan was warning you about this morning.

“Fine, I concede.” You sighed, swiftly snatching your letter from Nadia’s hands and tucking it inside the pockets of your inner jacket.

“Lead me to where you most need me.”

Over the years you’ve spent on Liyue, you’ve had another habit you’ve been nursing on the sidelines.

Epigraphy.

Better yet, it’s for the sole purpose of decoding ancient artifacts. Before you were transmigrated into Teyvat, you found that inspecting artifact descriptions and reading through lore strewn in notes and dialogues were a great part of what made playing Genshin Impact enjoyable. You devoured theories whether they were from YouTubers like Ashikai or other CCs who were eager to unravel and analyze myths from different civilizations. To be inside THE sandbox was the greatest treat. If your friends were here, you have no doubt you’d have plenty who’d look and try to pick apart Mister Zhongli’s brain.

Unfortunately, you never managed to catch his eye.

And the biggest misfortune of all, you caught Miss Yelan’s instead.

“It’ll take me a few weeks to decipher and solve this puzzle…” You told her hesitantly. “And I can’t guarantee anything either.”

Yelan only tilted her head. Strands of her hair hid her expression, and the only body language to be read was the way she played with the die on her fingers. You wondered if she was deciding your fate by giving it a roll…

You looked at the inscribed walls.

A man with horns… and his partner wearing a long hanfu… His partner… Reminds you of a beautiful cuckoo bird.

You sighed.

When she bargained for a chat in “private”, the Chasm was the last location you had in mind. Even more, it did not occur to you that she aimed to use you as a translator. For a language you only learned a few years ago.

You knew you couldn’t exactly deny a member of the Qixing, especially with how much you carried a moral debt for Lady Ningguang, so you agreed under the condition that Yelan wouldn’t snitch to Jing Yuan.

He might just give you the silent treatment if he found out you were here.

But back on the walls and the puzzle mechanism in the middle of the room…

Both were seated under the shade of a tree… 

Each holding a cup of tea…

“Damn it, why me?” You cussed out loud.

You seriously want to tell her that she should’ve chosen Zhongli. 

Not that you’d know that Yanfei begged Yelan to hire you for the job.

Yelan made her dice vanish. “If you need further assistance, and by that I meant necessities such as food and water, call for Wenyuan or Shanghua. They’ll materialize right in front of you.”

On the next wall, the horned man tightly held his partner, with tears falling from his eyes… His tail was more apparent in this depiction, but there were crystallized ambers and statues all around…

Like they were running…

Away from him…

You faced Yelan.

“Yelan, can’t you call for someone else—”

You blinked.

She was gone.

You don’t like being here.

You don’t like this cave.

You’re not sure whether you liked the fact Yelan invited you here. On one hand, you were grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, you thought yourself unqualified for whatever piece of ancient Liyuean history was waiting to bite you in the ass. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that whoever the drawn man was, he was a force to be reckoned with. You played enough Genshin to know that yakshas are not to be trifled. If this ended up as an Azhdaha scenario, you wouldn’t want to be the nameless NPC who died along the way.

Should’ve commissioned the traveler.

As you progressed in your decoding, the texts were beginning to gnaw you. 

“Have you heard the tale of Lady ███ ███?”

You trembled at the thought.

Curse Jing Yuan and his ghost stories.

The story wasn’t even that frightening.

What got you was how Jing Yuan sold them. He had preached it as though he had been a witness. It’s just a typical unnerving tale to keep children alert, but he had always been far more persuasive than you.

“When she and her husband were out exploring, her husband left her while she sired his heir. He left her there to die.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. You quietly applauded his commitment to the bit. Should you not know any better, you would’ve thought he hated that man more than anything.

Like he was seething with jealousy.

“Some claim he hid her there to fight for a war, some say it was out of love… In my eyes, it was an unforgivable neglect.”

Jing Yuan claims sharing ghost stories was a common occurrence from when he used to teach his disciple. But you’re not an idiot. You can sniff out a reason why he loves to bring these stupid tales.

“Days felt like a prison tally. She had forgotten what it felt to live in the sun.”

“She lived only by fulfilling basic needs. No matter how thick the mud was, no matter what was within the soil— all she could do was bitterly swallow what was to come. She bit her tongue on the ever-growing famine— and wished that her child would survive.”

Jing Yuan does not want you anywhere near the chasm.

“So when it was time to give birth, she had no assistance. She pushed her child out as hard as she could, and laid an empty egg.”

Before you could even ask why a human would lay an egg, Jing Yuan continued.

“But they both passed away.” 

“Legends say, that’s the reason why the lumenstone ore glows. It contains the watchful gaze of a scorned mother and unborn child…”

“And if you aren’t careful, you too—”

“Could be trapped inside it.” 

You scoffed.

Was the tale stupid? Depends on who you ask. Was it sad? Sorta. Was the thought of two ghosts— possibly more— watching you as you were forcibly dispatched to read through The Chasm’s secrets terrifying? Given the dark and brooding atmosphere, it was a quiet yes.

“Hmm? I— I solved it…?”

You blinked.

Maybe you still retained your skills as a Genshin player. Anything for a luxurious chest is what you would’ve said. And yet, it still baffled you that one did appear.

When you unlocked it, you saw no “primogem” like you quietly hoped (it would be funny if you unlocked a wish function, but that’s unlikely…)

Instead, you found a dusty ore.

“Great.” You muttered dryly. “Just what I needed.”

It was amber in color, same as the clothes the man wore in the wall paintings. You’re at a loss on how you should report this to Yelan.

“Better than nothing.” You spoke, laughing slightly. That sounded like something Diluc would say. You should buy a dandelion wine after this hard work.

Quickly, you fished out the gloves in your pockets. It was made of nitrile, which should protect the ore from possible oil and moisture from your hands. Yelan was very insistent you wear it.

But as soon as you touched the ore…

Your consciousness slipped away.

There was a man in front of you.

But you couldn’t see his face. 

“Dearest ███ ███…” The horned man smiled delicately as he sipped his tea. “It has been centuries since our first wedding ceremony. Do be honest with me, do you still hold the same passion as before.”

These memories appear to you in a blur.

“No, I do not.” You heard your voice say as the man’s shoulders slowly deflated. His amber eyes looked down, and his smile began to strain.

With two fingers, you lifted his chin.

“If anything, my love for you has grown stronger,” you spoke. “For you and I shall never let our draconic instincts dull, and our union will be the greatest treasure we shall hoard in this never-ending flow of time.”

“…/n…!”

One hand took his scaley hand and the other held his cheek, caressing softly.

“Promise you shall return?” You heard yourself mutter, this time weak and hopeless.

He leaned against your palm, purring as though it might be the last time he’ll savor your warmth.

“You know I do not make promises, ███ ███.” He spoke firmly. “What I keep are contracts. And I have vowed to make you happy, for as long as I live.”

“…(Y… (Y/n…. snap… out…!”

“Contracts normally sound so cold, but your honeyed voice makes it sound so romantic.”

“You know well, my love, in all my years, I’ve witnessed endless contracts and agreements. Whether it was tangible or verbal— each one was a significant chapter to someone’s life.”

The horned man softly detangled your fingers from his long brown hair and kissed your hand.

“But only one brought forth complete change. Our matrimonial agreement. The contract we signed gave me the most happiness. I’ve never signed a happier contract than this one.”

“And I share the same sentiment.” You cooed, almost cheeky. “And I hope our future child shall feel our love as well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and sighed.

“The day shall come, my love.” He spoke. “Just wait for me, until I fulfilled what the Heavenly Principles desires.”

“Of course,” you hugged him back. 

“I shall wait for you, my dearest…

“(Y/N)!!!”

You flinched.

Suddenly, you’re not in the mountains. You’re not hiding under the shade of a tree with warm-hued leaves. You were…

You were sitting on a patch of grass, just outside the chasm.

And Jing Yuan is mad.

He had a cold unmerciful glare. His built frame towered above you, casting a large shadow. It was already nighttime. Normally, only the moonlight and the lamps from afar should be the only source of light here, but his golden eyes seemed to glow. As though it was ready to call forth an entity you were not prepared to face.

You know the depths of his anger. Years of living inseparable from him has made every communication almost telepathic and that hadn’t changed. You can read it in his breaths, in his stiff and tall posture, in his unnerving gaze.

He is threatening you to spill. Saying without words that:

There are fates worse than death.

But your pulse was steady. But your breathing was calm. But your expression was blank.

You weren’t terrified.

And you can read that deep down, that scared the General more.

“Nay Jung I…”

For a moment, Jing Yuan’s eyes widened— as though there was something he was the only one privy to knowing. His face had a mix of surprise and disbelief before he steeled himself.

“Nay Jung I?” He scoffed. 

“What of him?” Jing Yuan asked.

“He’s my soulmate.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, brief incoherent syllables sputtered out of his mouth. You evoked more emotions in him this time around. You saw flashes of shock, what seemed to be happiness, hope, and then utter confusion.

“...What?”

“I saw him.” You said, calm. “I saw him as soon as I touched that rock. My soulmate— he had long hair and eyes like a dragon— I think he was a dragon, and so was I. I think my soulmate is in Liyue and he’s hiding behind the name Nay Jung I.”

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, before thinning his lips.

This time, you were certain.

He was not only mad. Jing Yuan was sorely disappointed.

“I understand…” 

You know the expression on his face. You read him like a discipline you mastered in epigraphy. He thinks that… 

You have gone “cuckoo.”

He turned around, no longer facing you.

“I’m sorry then, (Y/n).” 

Jing Yuan does not sound sorry to you.

“What for?”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke again, voice bitter and vile.

He was not sorry.

He was furious.

He was hurt.

He was jealous.

“Nay Jung I is the leader behind the past terrorist attacks.” He paused. “And I killed him.”

You haven’t recovered ever since.

Every medical “professional” you’ve encountered told you that you were hysterical. That you just hallucinated what you saw. It isn’t possible that the visions you saw were Nay Jung I anyway. 

Maybe they were right about the last part, you don’t want to believe it. 

It was in your instincts. That man had to be your husband in the past. Who cares if you came from another world? Maybe you were an Expy. You had to be. That person— the one who reminded you of a cuckoo bird in those walls— had to be you in another universe. 

It had to be.

Your real soulmate is out there.

And Nay Jung I isn’t dead.

But you’ve never been good at persuading others.

Soyourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveit—

“General Jing Yuan, is (Y/n)…?”

Outside the apartment, Mister Zhongli and Jing Yuan stood by the window, peaking at your form. You were so engrossed by your inner conflicts that you couldn’t hear them.

“They’ll… move on from you, eventually.” Jing Yuan spat back coldly. “I’m not the God of Contracts, but I keep promises that do not fail.”

Zhongli’s face crumpled in anguish.

“May I ask a question? Just to sate a bit of curiosity, of course.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. Zhongli took that as a yes.

“Are you Nay Jung I?” He asked. “I did not see his name on the list of the deceased criminals—”

“Yes, he and I are the same,” Jing Yuan silenced him. “Nay Jung I is an anagram of Jing Yuan. You can reorder the letters and confirm it for yourself.”

Originally, Jing Yuan had hoped to woo you with a romantic tale of an anonymous admirer. But, in your delirium, you had mistakenly believed that Nay Jung I was the same man in your visions. 

It was repulsive.

Never before had he wished to scream so loudly. He had not felt this much anger when he discovered the crimes his old friends had done. He had not felt as betrayed as when you claimed love for Nay Jung I, but it was not him.

He wanted to summon the Lightning Lord to destroy Liyue right then and there.

It was a frustration he had never felt before. Not when he was training with Jingliu. Not when he was scolding Yanqing. Not ever.

But Jing Yuan was not an impulsive man.

He prides his patience.

He prefers to scheme quietly rather than flashing bold moves.

Jing Yuan sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to ask.”

He shut the windows and Zhongli’s heart ached as he could no longer see you.

But then he turned to look at Jing Yuan.

And he knew…

Jing Yuan is much older and wiser than he looks.

“Tell me, Rex Lapis,” he spoke sharply. “Did you wed this world’s version of (Y/n) (L/n) and leave her and her child to die?”

…

…

…

That silence was enough.

Jing Yuan’s private investigations behind your back were right.

In the vast “multi-verse”, there is a version of you that married this dragon who descended from his Archon status.

“I... have wrought upon them great suffering. I am unworthy of their affections. Should a day come where (Y/n) enacts the fury of my wife and child on their behalf, it will be justly deserved.”

Zhongli did not further elaborate.

Whatever happened in the past, it still haunted him to this day. Lingering in the back of his mind, dulling his self-confidence and wits. Maybe it’s why Yanfei thought you should investigate the cave. Maybe she wanted the alternate version of ███ ███ to come back.

But she's gone.

Jing Yuan took a step closer.

“Your wife is dead, Rex Lapis. They are my (Y/n), not yours.”

“I-… I know.” Zhongli— no— Morax spoke, voice laced with grief. “I know she and (Y/n) are not the same, however, I…”

Another step.

“If you wish for their happiness, you will continue to not speak to them. You have done enough damage.”

Morax closed his eyes mournfully. “I am well aware of this”

Another step.

“Let me take care of (Y/n). Let me make them happy.”

And another.

Jing Yuan stared deep into Morax’s soul.

In all his years of living, it didn’t occur to Morax that he’d find another familiar cuckoo again.

But it wasn’t his wife.

Jing Yuan took another step.

This man in front of him was pushing and pushing…

“Let this conversation be a verbal contract,” he said. “That I, Jing Yuan, vow to make (Y/n) happy, and that you, Rex Lapis, shall step down as a final way to atone your sins of uxoricide and filicide. Do you accept?”

Like a cuckoo throwing an egg off the nest.

Forgive me, dearest ███ ███.

I am unworthy of you, let alone this alternate incarnation of yourself.

Morax inhaled deeply. He remains in his head, yet he can't escape the present. The more time he spent searching inside himself for solutions over his approximately 6000 years in Teyvat, the more evident it became what the sensible path of action was. With open eyes, Morax welcomed the return of the present. He observed the vivid hues of existence. In the vicinity, he heard Jing Yuan's pet cuckoo bird. But most of all, he felt his age.

Whatever time was appropriate to dream of a family— it had long passed him.

I am but an old man who deserves to fade away quietly.

And he…

Has the same vigor Morax once had.

That obsessed look.

That tight, suffocating hold.

Just like staring at a reflection of himself, centuries passed.

Jing Yuan, too, was a man depraved. Worse, he is a man who lost everything, clinging only to (Y/n) as his only solace in Teyvat.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan took a walk with you, with one arm draping around your shoulder to ward off those he deemed unwanted.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan brags about you with his men in each available opportunity, socially claiming you his.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan glares at someone who got too close when he thought you weren’t looking, pushing suitors away.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan rarely talks about his story and would rather talk about something you had done, making you a large part of himself.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan only cares about you, and not even a sliver for himself.

He would rather not see him destroy himself the way he had done long ago.

And just like that, the General got rid of his greatest rival— Liyue’s archon and your husband from another life.

He is out of the nest.

“I accept.”

May June can now message Jing Yuan

[lassify]

Damian Desmond: An Attachment Perspective

**Spoilers for SxF Chapter 106 Below**

I loved this chapter for so many reasons, but the one I really want to highlight today is that Damian may be insecurely attached, but he still has hope. And that he is so brave, in his own way.

Exhibit A: When Damian knocks on Demetrius' door and asks for help, I am 100% positive that Damian wasn't truly expecting a response from Demetrius. He's used to being ignored, especially by his own family.

But he tried anyway.

This is important, because most children of Damian's age who fall under the category of avoidant attachment wouldn't approach a situation like this where there is a possibility that they would be rejected. It speaks volumes to me that Damian has a sense that he would be turned away, but still he tries.

"I was hoping..."

Exhibit B: There is also this moment where we see that Damian wanted to say something, and then he silences himself before he can say anything.

(Don't cry, Lass, omg dont cry 😭😭😭 )

Damian is initially afraid, so he silences himself, but then there is this moment, where he pulls himself together, and tries again.

Endo is so brilliant at drawing out moments of important decisions for characters. You can see Damian making the decision to say something, and gather his courage, but he only falls short once he actually succeeds at getting Donovan's attention.

Under the heavy gaze of the head of the Desmond dynasty, I'm not surprised that 6-year old Damian felt his resolve crumble.

But!

He reverts to another option: find support. Which leads me to...

Exhibit C: This one makes me sob, actually. In response to his wavering confidence, Damian looks to his mother for support. The woman who should be his primary caregiver, and therefore his primary attachment figure.

And she turns away.

(Tears, tears down my face, my boy doesn't deserve this 😭 )

This is the third moment in this chapter alone that Damian does something that no other Desmond would dare: he seeks connection.

Damian tried to connect with his brother, his father, and his mother, all in the same chapter. He is the sole character that links them all.

All through Chapter 106, these are the moments that stood out to me the most, because it truly shows to me that Damian still has hope. Demetrius and Melinda are very clearly ingrained in their roles, and their behaviour is crystallised into what we see as the reader. It's obvious that this isn't the first time that Demetrius has rebuffed Damian's requests; and this isn't the first time that Melinda has ignored Damian's emotional needs.

I hear you wondering: Does Damian still have hope because he's still just a child?

Maybe. It's certainly possible. But I also want to highlight that Damian is insecurely attached; specifically showing an insecure-avoidant attachment style.

Children with this style of attachment typically experience high levels of emotional neglect, where their primary caregiver consistently does not meet their emotional needs. This leads the child to value independence, autonomy, and self-reliance, and to generally see others as untrustworthy.

We see this in Damian. He believes he is better, usually weaponising the Desmond name to place himself above others, but there is also an element where he believes he is better, because he ranks highly in the social hierarchy, and he achieves brilliant grades on his own merit, demonstrating his own self-reliance.

(Side note: Issues stemming from an avoidant attachment style can still coexist with self-esteem issues, but I'm trying not to complicate this post lol).

My point: Damian has experienced enough rejection in his childhood that he shouldn't even be trying with his own family anymore. But he does. He keeps trying. Damian still hopes that he can connect with his family, and I think that this is because this is a part of his actual personality.

On the inside, Damian is complex; he struggles with the weight of his identity, he is trying to find his place in the world, he yearns for attention and validation (specifically from his father), he finds comfort in believing that he is better than other people (even his friends), he struggles to handle big emotions, he prefers to work things through independently, and struggles to be vulnerable and ask for help, and he lies to himself about his big feelings so that he can avoid feeling them.

And my favourite thing about him: he still keeps trying. He gathers his courage. He gets back up. Time and time again he feels afraid, and time and time again he feels the fear and he tries anyway.

Damian is so brave, in his own way.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

Ben and Gwen: lonely kid and gifted child

I’ve thought a lot about these two and their family dynamic. Both are relatable to me but in different ways. Like Gwen, I’ve always been the “mature” one who was good at school and loved by the adults in my life, but I also don’t have any friends and have a desire for fame and attention like Ben. At first glance, they seem to have little to complain about, being white kids with stable homes and two parents, compared to someone like Kevin, but there’s more to a character than just the surface and I think both have a lot of emotional issues relating to their self worth.

With Gwen, we get glimpses into her life and how everyone views her as perfect. Sunny envied how she was adored by her parents and Verdona and Gwen wished her mother would stop thinking of her as the “good influence”. All the adults in her family loved her and expected her to be the role model for the other kids which is a double edged sword. Yes you get praise and love but also pressure and high expectations. You’re expected to babysit the other kids and often have to bury your true feelings to please everyone and people will envy the love you get. And that love is often conditional and based around living up to their standards, remember how Natalie told her “normal people don’t glow” and how she doesn’t like her daughter or nephew using their powers around her.

As a kid, she was constantly doing extracurriculars like cotillion and judo before earning a scholarship to go to college early in Omniverse. We got a glimpse into her daily life in “It’s not Easy Being Gwen” where everyone expects her to fulfill certain obligations. Gwen seems like a child prodigy who feels she has to be the best and is always filling her schedule with activities and is always trying to get into the top schools. I think that’s why she fell for Kevin. He was the only one who loved her without putting her on a pedestal or because she’s family. The only person she could be herself around and doesn’t force her to act like a perfectionist. People complain about her outfit change in OV and I agree with some of the criticisms, but with all the pressure in her life, I get why she would want a change from the expectations in her life.

Ben strikes me as someone with a deep inferiority complex. It’s implied that he’s a bit of a loner who doesn’t have many friends with JT ditching him for Cash. He did get along better with Sunny which makes me wonder if he can relate to being in Gwen’s shadow. Fans talk about how great Carl and Sandra are as parents and while they are nice people, their free range approach can seem negligent. They only seemed concerned about Ben’s heroics once they witnessed it. By that time, Ben had been on late night road trips with Kevin, who punched holes in their doors, for weeks and didn’t even come home one night in “Save the Last Dance”. Ben may have acted the way he did in the OS as a cry for help as he feels neglected and the favoritism everyone has towards Gwen may rub off on him. It reminds me a bit of how Steven from SU acted the way he did in the early episodes because he was constantly being left alone without the gems or Greg while being compared to Rose. Kids who don’t have friends nor get much attention while living in a family member’s shadow can and do develop inferiority complexes.

Ben’s desire for fame seems to stem from wanting to be loved and wanting to feel special. He becomes so full of himself because people finally love him as opposed to viewing him as some average kid. Fans have dismissed the bullying he faced as cliche or unnecessary but it adds to his character. A lonely, bullied kid who’s in the shadow of his overachieving cousin will want something that makes him feel special, like the Omnitrix. Ben has to learn throughout the 4 shows that he is the hero, not the watch. I think that’s why he loved using transformations like Four-arms, Humungousaur and Feedback so much even if they were inadequate for the situation as they made him feel confident. The way he fights is reminiscent of standing up to a bully too, picking an intimidating form, offering a chance to back off and then doing what he can to stop the threat. It’s easy to write him off as just a spoiled brat or narcissistic but I think 1, that’s ableist and 2, is a rather shallow way of looking at his character. While he can be insufferable at times, is it wrong to want acknowledgement or praise when there’s people like Will Harangue or the Rooters who hate you just for existing? I think he deserves a break from fans who hate him and he acts a lot better than most kids would in his situation. Compare him to Shinji Ikari from Evangelion, who I also love as a character, who would break down after seeing what Ben has to deal with every day.

I think both may envy each other at times. Gwen has been shown to be jealous of Ben getting all the glory as well as how Ben was given a car by her boyfriend despite her parents being wealthier. Like Sunny, Ben may have viewed Gwen as a stuck-up overachiever who got all the respect from their parents. That was until they bonded and became friends in the OS but it occasionally came back like when Ben lashed out at her for telling him he couldn’t use Feedback, believing she was trying to take the only thing he had. Because they have it easier than Kevin, it’s easy to expect them to just get over it but I think both Tennyson cousins need a lot of therapy and need to talk about their issues with each other. Both characters mean a lot to me and remind me of my own struggles.

[hyperactively-me]

I saw a similar request, but this idea has been in my mind for a long time. An ally from a neighboring kingdom has arrived with his heir, a prince who is her age. Simon is infuriated by the way the prince looks at his treasure and is clearly jealous, but he doesn't show it. However, later that night, he takes and «claims» her all night, and she doesn't understand what got into him

oopsies my fingers slipped and i'm posting this earlier than i originally planned. got some angst packed in here. and smut! someone's jealous. but also extremely concerned. hope you like! also i made up random characters for this (again) lolz. also last thing, this is lowkey long

warnings: smut, inexperienced!reader

The morning sun spilled through the windows of your shared royal chamber as you and Simon prepared to receive King Victor and Prince Theodore. King Victor was an extremely trusted ally to Kastron, strong bonds between the two kingdoms stemming from decades ago. You donned a gown of regal blue, embroidered with intricate patterns that reflected your wealth and status. The dress flowed gracefully around you, accentuating your figure and emphasizing your beauty.

“Si, can you please tie the back for me?” you question, reaching around to tug at the strings resting on your back. 

Simon turned to face you, securing the cufflinks on his sleeves. “Of course, love,” he murmured, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers deftly moved to secure the ties of your gown, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder. 

As he finished securing the gown, his hands lingered on your shoulders, turning you around to face him, and he met your gaze with a certain intensity. “You look beautiful, as always,” he said, his voice low and husky.

You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading across your face. “Thank you, Si.” You peck his cheek, grabbing his hands in yours. Simon's eyes softened, and he brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

“Are you ready?” he asks, pulling you towards the door.

“Yup, I’m ready,” you sigh, straightening your dress once more before stepping outside. 

The arrival of King Victor and Prince Theodore was imminent, and the royal staff buzzed with anticipation. The bond between Kastron and their kingdom was unbreakable. The visit was meant to strengthen the enduring ties between the two kingdoms. As the grand doors swung open, King Victor and Prince Theodore entered with an air of regal grace. King Victor, with his silver hair and a warm, wise smile, exuded a commanding presence. Prince Theodore, around your age, was a mirror image of his father, possessing a handsomeness that drew attention.

“Ah, Simon,” Victor spoke, approaching him with a smile. 

“Victor, very nice to see you again,” Simon replies, shaking Victor’s hand with a firm grip. 

“Of course you remember my son, Theodore?” Victor says, pulling Theodore into his side. 

“It’s been a while, but yes, I vaguely remember,” Simon replies, giving Theodore a firm handshake as well. 

“You are going to introduce us to your new queen, right?” Victor quips, clapping Simon on the back with a friendly chuckle. 

“Of course, Victor,” Simon smiles, placing his hand on the small of your back. With a slight nudge of his hand, he pushes you forward in front of Victor and Theodore. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, the queen.”

You offer a polite curtsy, your regal grace on full display. “Your majesty,” you greet, smiling warmly at Victor. You extend your hand to him, and he accepts it with a warm smile.

“My queen, how lovely it is to finally meet you,” he smiles. He reminds you of your father, warm yet commanding. “I’ve heard of your marriage to good ol’ Simon here. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend the wedding. But now that I’m here, it is safe for me to say that Simon is lucky to have you.” 

You smile at Victor, his well wishes flattering you. “I truly appreciate the sentiment, your majesty.”

You turn to face Prince Theodore. “Your highness,” you greet, extending your hand out to him. Theodore grabs your hand lightly, bowing before you. 

“Your majesty, how flattered I am to bask in your presence,” he says, his voice buttery smooth. 

His gaze is anything but subtle. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Prince Theodore—”

“Please, call me Theo.”

His concern caught you off guard. “Oh, yes, of course, I apologize—”

“No need to apologize,” he murmurs, holding onto your hand longer than he has to. You maintain your composure, withdrawing your hand gracefully from his grasp. You don’t notice the way Simon straightens his back a little, a subtle tension settling in his posture, like a coiled spring. 

“Come, now,” Victor sighs, wrapping an arm around Simon’s shoulder. “How about we start these dreaded talks?” he jokes, laughing jovially as he pulls Simon towards the meeting room. 

You turn to follow them, but not before Theodore offers you his arm. You take it with a smile, following behind Victor and Simon. The presence of Prince Theodore's arm linked with yours added a weight to your steps as you followed the others into the meeting room. Unbeknownst to you, his demeanor made it clear that he had little intention of keeping things strictly formal.

Once the doors are shut, Simon turns to you, jaw clenching as he sees you arm in arm with Theodore. Immediately, Simon is striding over to your seat, next to his of course. He pulls it out for you, motioning for you to sit down. 

“Thank you, Simon,” you smile at him, settling down in your seat. Simon turns to glare at Theodore for a split second before taking his seat next to you. 

Once inside, the discussions began. You, Victor, and Simon delved into matters of trade and alliances, and Prince Theodore was left with more observing. You and Simon had discussed what would happen in this meeting in the days leading up. This would be your first official involvement in Kastron’s affairs with an ally. You would offer as much aide as you could, utilizing your knowledge from your lessons with your advisors.

As the meeting began, you inserted yourself into the talks confidently, trying your best to be as diplomatic and professional as possible. When you were about to speak again, Theodore interrupted you.

Theodore raised an eyebrow, his eyes locking onto yours, then flitting to Simon. “Forgive me, but I can't help but be curious about something,” he said, his tone light yet probing. Theodore addresses you by your first name, taking you slightly aback. No one refers to you by just your first name other than Simon and your family. You don’t notice the way Simon narrows his eyes in annoyance at Theodore. 

“Your confidence is truly a sight to see,” Theodore compliments, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “It’s honestly impressive to see, especially only becoming queen of Kastron a couple of months ago.”

You smile appreciatively at him. “Oh, thank you,” you gush, “I’ve been doing lessons for the majority of my time here, but I’ve really fallen in love with Kastron.”

Simon knocks his knee into yours under the table, his leg resting right against yours.

Theodore leans back in his chair, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Prosperity and alliances aside, I can't help but be curious about the person you are behind the title. I'm sure there's more to you than just diplomacy and royal duties.”

“Oh, well, maybe we can talk afterwards?” you suggest, smiling at him politely. “I’m sure we would like to get these talks over as soon as possible.”

Simon’s hand appears under the table, thick fingers tracing your thigh and coming to rest on the slope of your inner thigh. You squirm slightly as his fingers linger on your thigh, but you keep your mouth shut. 

“I would be delighted,” Theodore smiles back at you. 

Theodore’s interjections and conversation directed towards you for the rest of the meeting made Simon feel like he was losing his sanity inch by inch. As the discussions wore on, you didn’t notice the way Simon's jaw clenched intermittently. He maintained a diplomatic facade, but the strain was evident. 

The meeting started wrapping up, all good results for both parties. 

“Well, we would like to thank you for coming, Victor,” Simon says, shaking Victor’s firmly. “I had no doubt in my mind that we wouldn’t be able to come up with an advantageous agreement for the both of us.”

“Always a pleasure, my boy,” Victor smiles enthusiastically, shaking Simon’s hand.

Victor turns to you. “And, my dear, a wonderful job you’ve done here! You have great potential.” 

You smile graciously, extremely pleased that an experienced monarch complimented you. 

“Thank you, Victor, your words mean so much to me.” 

Prince Theodore taps you on the shoulder. Simon immediately tenses beside you, placing a hand on your waist. 

“Do you still want to talk?” Theodore asks with an air of confidence, eyeing Simon for a brief moment. “I could use some advice in terms of meetings like these…you just did such a wonderful job.” 

You turn to Prince Theodore with a polite smile, not noticing the tension that lingers in Simon's expression. “Certainly! I’ll try my best!”

Theodore's gaze lingers on you, his eyes sparkling with a subtle charm. “I was thinking perhaps we could talk somewhere else? I'd love to hear more about Kastron from your perspective.”

Before you can say anything, Simon is interrupting you, voice stern and gruff. 

“She’s actually feeling quite exhausted.”

“Wha—”

“We must be off, it has been a long day,” Simon continues, squeezing you flush against him. 

Your eyebrows raise slightly in confusion at Simon’s intervention, but you quickly recover, offering a polite smile to Prince Theodore. “I apologize, Prince Theodore, but Simon is right. It has been a long and productive day, and I’m afraid I am feeling a bit fatigued. Perhaps we can continue our conversation another time?” 

Simon, his expression firm, nods in agreement. “Another time, Prince Theodore. We appreciate your understanding.” And with that, Simon practically drags you away and to your chambers, arm still fastened around your waist. 

. . . 

“Simon, what was that back there?”

The moment the door clicks shut, Simon is practically on top of you. 

“Woah— hey, big guy, what’s—”

“Quiet,” he commands, pressing his body up against yours. He’s slotting you against him, grabbing your hips with fervor. 

“Simon—”

And he’s kissing you. Kissing you with an intensity in a way that feels…different. He’s pressing into you so hard that you don’t fully realize when your back hits the wall. 

Simon slots his knee in between your legs, bucking his knee up into you, pressing into your clothed clit just right. You gasp into his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. Simon groans at your reaction, the way your hands feel against him is heavenly. But his shirt is in the way. And his pants. In one fluid movement, Simon shucks his shirt off and presses himself back on you. 

“Simon, what’s gotten into you—?”

“Saw the way he was looking at you—”

“Wha– who?”

“Theodore.”

“What?” you stop moving. “What are you talking about?” 

You push your hands against his bare chest, trying to push him off you. “What are you talking about?” He moves back, removing his knee from in between your legs. 

“He was trying to get in your pants,” he says bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Your face heats up at his accusation, “Simon, he was not—”

“He wouldn’t stop talking to you.”

“He was just interested in political advice! Yeah, he was a bit immature during the meeting, interrupting me, but that was it,” you exclaim. 

“No, no he wasn’t—” Simon pinches the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut.

“How do you know?” you question, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“I’m a man. I just know.”

“Really? Simon, I–”

He interrupts you.

“I cannot have a repeat of Valerian.” 

You’re silent, and suddenly you feel small under his gaze. His eyes search yours, emotion coursing through him. 

“Valerian was truly dangerous. They are not the same—”

“I don’t like taking that chance with you,” Simon presses, returning his hands back on your hips. His grip returns you back against the wall. You look at him, mouth parted slightly. You lick your lips and nod with understanding.

“I can’t stand Theodore, the prying little prick.” 

You rub Simon’s arms in soothing motions, up and down. You know where this is coming from. He’s just scared. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly. 

“We’re going back to daily self defense training,” Simon adds on, breathing hard into your ear. “And ‘m gonna assign a personal guard to you.”

You get goosebumps from his breath against your skin. You nod slowly, chewing your lip.

“Okay.”

“I should’ve done all of this sooner, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m a bad husband—” 

“No, no you’re not, Si,” you whisper, pulling him against you. You rest your cheek against his bare chest, his skin hot against your face. “You’re not.”

You take his face in your hands and pull him down for a gentle kiss. He lets out a breath as your lips meet his, and he’s leaning against you again, making you take his body weight against the wall. His hands reach around your back, pulling at the strings on your dress with his meaty fingers. You reach around your back to help him, yanking at the strings and hoping it unravels. With a satisfied grunt, Simon yanks the knot free, letting the dress slip from your shoulders. 

He kisses you again, hands pulling the dress of your form. Simon pulls you into his arms, his chest pressed against yours as if trying to consume you whole, his hand shooting out to brace against the wall as he walks you back into it once more, moving his knee back in between your pillowy thighs. You gasp into his mouth as his knee comes back into contact with your core, beckoning you to slide against him. 

“Oh—” you whisper, your head falling back against the wall as he rocks his knee against you. 

He kisses his way down your throat, nipping at the skin before sucking a hickey on your flesh. You gasp, trying to push him off. It’s too late, and he’s looking at you with a certain glint in his eyes.

“Si, people are going to see that—” “Let them,” is all he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lip. “You’re mine. Only mine.” 

You feel his cock press into your thighs. You stutter as desire pools between your legs. He starts rocking his knee against you harder, making you swallow your words as a moan threatens to escape your throat. You involuntarily grind against his thigh, eliciting a small chuckle from him. His hands move to your hips, pushing you down more firmly onto his thigh, a soft gasp falling past your lips.

“Thas’ it, love,” he encourages, grabbing your hips firmly, pushing you against his thigh. You gasp louder this time as your clothed cunt makes contact with him. 

He revels in your reaction, loves hearing your sounds. You bite your lip, unaccustomed to the way you felt against his leg. Your shyness only spurs him on, pulling your hips forward, dragging you against his covered thigh once more. 

“Si,” you garble, clutching onto his shoulders, your wetness pooling in your panties. You let your head fall in front of his chest as he pulls and pushes at your hips. You pant softly, "Fuck, Si," curling your fingers into his skin deliciously. 

“Feel good, dove?” He drawls, lost in your pleasure. He watches you nod slowly. “I’m the only one who will make you feel this good.” 

You grab his shoulder tightly as he speaks, your wetness surely soaking through your panties now. 

“F- feels so good,” you murmur with a shaky breath, groaning lightly at the way he nudges you on his thigh, the feeling of fabric rubbing against your clit making your legs tremble slightly. 

Simon slides his fingers up into your panties, sliding his fingers through your slick and pressing at your clit before pulling them back out. You shiver from the loss of contact, a glossy look washing over your eyes as you watch Simon bring his now dripping fingers up to his face. 

“So wet,” he notes, wiggling his fingers in front of your face. “S’ wet all for me.” 

You nod your head quickly, becoming lost in your own pleasure, moving your hips faster. “Only for you.”

Simon watches you intently, bringing his slick-covered fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as you watch him. He groans at the taste of you, bucking his knee up into you, making you moan. “Taste s’ good f’me,” he mumbles around his fingers, licking every last drop. 

You look up at him, mouth agape. “I– I think,” you mumble, grasping onto his shoulders with a death grip. Your knees start to shake, the coil in your stomach threatening to unravel. 

“Let go, love,” Simon encourages you, rutting you harshly against his thigh. 

You feel the coil in your stomach snap, moaning as you arch your back, hips rutting forward. You dig your nails into his shoulders, pressing your forehead up against his chest as you roll through your climax. 

“Thas’ it, darling, so good all f’me,” Simon says huskily eyes darkening as he removes his leg from in between your thighs. Immediately Simon is pulling you over to the bed, laying you down gently. He was planning on being anything but. 

Your mind is hazy as he climbs on top of you, your climax dripping through your now completely soaked panties. Simon lowers his head down, presses his nose into your clothed cunt, the top of his nose pressing into your clit. You gasp again, hands finding purchase in the bedsheets. 

Simon grabs the edge of your panties with his teeth, then pulls, ripping them off your body. You shriek, heat creeping up your face, “Si- Simon! Those were one of my favorites—”

“I’ll get you another,” he coos at you, licking your slick off your folds. Then he dove in. You let out a deep seated moan as he pressed his tongue through your folds, humming and groaning at your taste. He digs his fingers into your thighs, groaning louder as he tastes more of you. He’s so vocal with the pleasure he derives from you, always so eager to please you.

“‘M the only one,” he hums into your cunt, “who’ll taste you like this.” 

You’re so wet it’s dripping down his chin, his nose, his lips. You nearly sob as he presses impossibly farther into you, squeezing his head around your thighs. Your hips buck off the bed as his tongue presses inside you, grinding down on him as his nose hits your clit. He groans as you spasm around his tongue, grasping your hips in a bruising grip. He moves back up to your clit, pressing his tongue against your bud, swirling around your bundle of nerves. Tears prick your eyes, the stimulation bringing you close to the edge again. 

“Simon,” you cry out, pawing at him. He ignores you, relishing in the way your back is arching off the bed. He’s bringing you to the edge, again, and the moment his eyes flit up to meet yours, you cum. Your eyes roll back, the coil within you letting loose once more. Simon moans as his tongue laps up your release eagerly. 

With lightning speed, Simon is crawling back up your body and kisses you, long and deep, shoving your slick inside your mouth for you to taste.

“Taste s’good, baby,” he praises, squeezing your hips as he kisses you. He shudders as your nails scratch down his back gently, grazing his shoulders with an unexpected gentleness. 

Simon leans down to your collarbone, pressing hickies into your skin, much to your dismay (you loved it). You could care less that there’ll be visible marks all over your body by the time he’s done. He goes farther, sucking hickies at the tops of your breasts, pulling you against him as he does so. His breath hitches everytime he hears you moan, his hard cock aching in the confines of his pants, your sounds only pushing him farther and farther.

“Please, please” you moan, tugging at his hair, “take your pants off.” 

“Because you asked so sweetly, pretty girl,” he whispers, fumbling with his pants as he practically rips them off his legs. His cock springs free, angry and ready. 

“Please,” you murmur, eyeing his cock. Your fingers brush over it, and he lets out a hiss. Simon grabs your wrist, forcing your hand to close around his member. He drags your hand up and down his cock, once, twice, before he’s twitching. He needs to be inside of you. Now. 

He reaches down to spread your folds for him, then pushes just the tip inside your walls. You groan at the stretch, clawing his back as the meaty tip pries you open. 

“So good–” you moan as he continues to slide inside of you, the stretch making you wince in pain and pleasure. 

“Almost there, lovie, such a good girl,” he praises, keening at the way your nails scratch his back. He lets out a strangled breath as he bottoms out inside of you, letting his forehead rest against yours to catch his breath. 

You whimper as he just sits there, his strong arms clutching your back as he lifts your back off the bed. As he lifts you up, he hooks your legs around his hips tightly. He grabs your back with his strong arms, pulling you up from your previous position on the bed. 

Suddenly, he’s pulling his cock almost all the way before slamming back into you with no remorse. You moan loudly, eyes rolling back as he bounces you on his cock, hard. 

“‘M the only one that’ll fuck you like you deserve,” he groans into your neck, dragging you up and down his cock like its his day job. You whimper and drag your nails down his back, your nails scratching his skin so perfectly, red marks appearing along his rippling muscles. 

He moves faster, pumping into you hard. He’s never been this rough with you before. 

“You’re mine, only mine,” Simon strains. “Say it.” 

“‘M yours, Si,” you babble, grasping onto him. “I’m o-only yours.” You moan as your hands find purchase in the firmness of his back, shoving your head against his neck to leave him open mouthed kisses. 

The words he so urgently craved from you slipped from your lips, prompting a growl to escape from his own.

“Good girl,” he grunts, voice gruff and husky, overridden with lust and the way your legs felt around his hips. “My good girl.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, clutching the back of your head to press his tongue into your mouth deeply. Your eyes fall shut, the pleasure overbearing as he moves his hand from the back of your head to your throbbing clit. Your back arches into him, moaning loudly as he massages your swollen bundle of nerves. 

You clench around his length, breathing ragged, you’re so close. “You’re mine,” Simon drawls, thrusting into you harder, deeper. “I- I’ll fuckin’ kill anyone who touches–” he stutters, speech cut off as you kiss him. You don’t want him to finish that sentence, but you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t sing as he spoke. 

The ever so familiar coil building up in your abdomen breaches your senses, your muscles tightening. Your mind is foggy as he continues pounding into you, playing with your clit, pushing you farther. 

“Takin’ me so well, darling girl.” 

“‘M gonna cum,” you cry out, his fingers on your clit pushing you over the edge. 

“I know, I know,” he grunts, his voice strained from his own impending release. “Cum for me, baby.” 

You whimper as you cum, nails digging into Simon’s back as your senses go into overdrive. 

“G- good girl,” Simon strains, his speed increasing at you coming on his cock. His breathing grows erratic as he slams his hips against yours, hands gripping at your back. “My beautiful girl.” 

Simon slides his hands from your back, letting you fall back on the mattress as he pushes himself into you. 

“I’m yours, Si, always yours,” you whisper, grabbing at his wrist on your hip. “Forever yours.”

You lock eyes with him. 

“You’re mine,” you lick your lips, eyes meeting his. “You’re all mine, Simon.”

He moans at those words alone, closing his eyes as he rolls his hips before releasing inside of you. He drops on top of you, flipping you over so you’re laying on top of his chest. You press your chin against his chest, his racing heartbeat pounding against your skin. 

“Fuck, dove.” He finally opens his eyes, looking right at you. He looks like he’s in utter shock. “Fuck.” 

He doesn’t pull out quite yet, letting his softening cock rest inside you. 

“Hmm?”

“Say that again.”

You shift under his gaze, his eyes practically boring holes in your skin. 

“You’re mine, Simon.” 

He shudders, hands running up your body to rest on your ass. He gives you a firm squeeze. 

He looks at you, a smile tugging on his lips. 

“Damn right.”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Devil Wears Armani 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The flight makes you restless. It’s more than just the confinement but the company. Each time your hand wanders up to fix your shirt, it’s swatted away by another. You wince as you look at your boss, his eyes glued to his phone screen. 

You fidget and cross one leg over the other, then switch. You crane to see the baggage crate and push yourself to your feet. Before you can stand straight, you’re wrenched back down. 

“Where’re you going?” Stark challenges. 

You wince and shake your head, “just... to get my laptop. I was going to do some work.” 

“Did I tell you to do that?” 

“Well, no, sir, but--” 

“I’m your boss so you work for me. You do what I say.” He puts his phone down on the table and shifts to look you up and down. “If you’re getting up, why don’t you get your bikini and show off for me?” 

“Huh.... what? Er, sir?” Your lashes flutter and your eyes skitter back and forth. 

“Yeah, sure. Gotta make sure it’s hot tub appropriate.” He winks and nudges you. 

“Oh, uh, but...” 

“But?” He sucks his teeth and the humour drains from his face. “Do I need to report you for employee insubordination? Ha. But who exactly do I report you to? I mean, the CEO doesn’t really have anyone above him so...” 

Guilt tugs in your cheeks. You can’t admit your mistake aloud, yet you can’t defy him either. You just nod and stand. You walk slowly across the cabin. You’re not used to the floating sensation that makes you feel heavy at the same time. 

You grab your bag and unzip it. You sift around for the black one-piece.  

“Gotta try it on to get the full effect, sweetheart,” Stark snickers. 

You do up the bag and put it back. You cringe and sidle toward the bathroom. The attendant emerges from behind the curtain and you quickly hide inside the tiny compartment. You roll the door shut and look at yourself in the mirror. You look just as terrified as you feel. 

It’s just the way Stark is. He doesn’t like being refused or any glint of defiance. It all stems back to that day when you got in the way of his fun. Really, it’s your own fault. You should have been patient. You should have waited before you just ran right in. 

You turn away from your reflection and ice flows through your veins. Once he’s thoroughly humiliated you, this will be done. Or you could quit. In mid-air. Without a way home. 

Shoot. 

You switch out your business attire for the swimsuit. It’s been so long since you put it on. It’s tighter than you remember. It pulls high along your pelvis and your bottom threatens to fall out completely. You feel little better than naked. 

You face the door and gulp. You amp yourself up to emerge and when you do, you nearly collide with the attendant. Oh god! As much as you want to retreat and hide behind the door, you can’t. You’re locked in place until she disappears behind the curtain. 

Mr. Stark whistles in his seat. You approach, hands hovered over your ass, and stop just beside the leather armrest. You do your best to conceal yourself behind the empty seat. He reaches for his drink and swigs. 

“Can’t see you like that,” he chirps as he considers the dark scotch. 

“Sir... I...” 

You choke down your protest and step up. You turn to face the table and shiver as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes. He frowns at you and his cheek dimples. 

“What the fuck is that, George?” 

“Um, my swimsuit--” 

“That isn’t a bikini.” 

“I know, sir. I don’t have--” 

“I pay you enough to afford one. Don’t act all innocent with me. Turn around.” He spins his finger and you blink. You shake your head and pout. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

He snaps his fingers. You look at the window and the clouds outside. Even if you had the strength to run, you can’t. So, you do what he says. 

“Move your hands,” he demands. You pull your hands to your side and bounce on your heels. He hisses through his teeth, “whoowie, Georgie cakes, that’s a hell of a keester.” 

You quickly twirl around and clap your hands to your bottom. You sputter, “Mr--” 

He snickers and bites his lip, “come on. Put it on me, George.” 

“Hm?” Your brow furrows. 

“Don’t give me that dumb look. It makes me horny so get over here.” 

He squares his shoulders as he leans back into the leather cushion. He drags his hands up and down his pants and wiggles his hips. He purrs as he looks down at the twitch in the fabric. You inhale and hold it in until it aches. 

“Sir?” 

“Sit.” 

You turn and shift between the seat and the table. You reach back to touch the armrests to lower yourself but nearly tumble. Stark yanks your wrist and forces you in front of him. Before you can get your balance, he has you by the hips. He pulls you in his lap and wraps his arms around you. 

You wriggle and push on the armrests. “Mr. Stark, this isn’t... appropriate. This... you said... a work trip?” 

“I’m working,” he tilts beneath you. The blunt prod makes you squirm. “Hard. Lot of work to keep from blowing right now.” 

“Huh?” You try to stand but he has you trapped in his arms. 

“Keep rubbing your ass on me like that and I won’t be able to. Relax and... enjoy the flight.” He keeps an arm hooked around you and eases back. You tense as his hand spreads across your stomach, fingers petting just above your pelvis. He pulls you back and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Grab my phone for me, will ya?” 

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters When You Give Them Flowers

Sorry for the absence, been crazy times 😅 Just something cute I couldn’t get out of my head, enjoy~ Also, correcting my Faramir drought let’s frickin go 🤙🏻

Aragorn

The last town you’d stopped in, there’d been a girl. A little thing, hardly more than seven or eight years old, and there she stood with a basket in hand. She was selling flowers, long and dainty stems with white blooms, no doubt to help her family sitting off in the distance.

The moment he laid eyes upon her, Aragorn had bent over, pressing the loaf he had just bought into her hand and whispering some words of hope you wished you could hear. Heart leaping, you watched him move along before approaching the girl yourself.

~

When night had fallen and a fire began crackling, you took the flowers from behind your back and held them out to the ranger you so dearly loved. The smile that instantly graced him was truly a worthwhile blessing.

“I know where you found these,” he remarked, turning them gently over in his hand as his smile softened.

You mirrored the expression. “I thought they could use a bowl of soup to split the loaf with. And you deserve a gift, even to the smallest gifts of the earth.”

Wordlessly, Aragorn took your hand with the one not holding the flowers, clutching it tight as his blue eyes gazed into yours.

Legolas

“Do you elves know anything of the language of flowers?”

Legolas’s brows furrowed a bit at that, and you couldn’t help giggling at the sight of his expression, his next choice of words. “Words of the trees, yes, but flowers? Perhaps an old tale.”

“No, no,” you shook your head, still smiling, “my people have quite the elaborate custom around flowers. Different blooms in different colors make quite unique statements. Take roses for instance- they come in a whole slew of colors.”

“I see,” he nodded, “so a yellow rose would speak volumes apart from a red one, then?”

Your heart leapt at Legolas’s choices, his unwitting contrast between the blossoms of friendship and passionate, deep love. “Indeed. There are even flowers that say ‘your letter was received’! But if this is unfamiliar to the elves, any flowers would be quite the surprise, would they not?”

“We have always had appreciation for the earth’s beauty.”

You took that as as close of a yes as you’d get, shaking your head as you shifted in the hard base of your seat, turning back to grab the vase of flowers you’d made for your friend, the one who made your heart beat like no other. White lilies could symbolize mourning, but also that one’s love was pure. Perfect, perhaps, if unrequited. Pink irises for hope, though. Hundred-leaved roses in pink for a love truly sincere. Bursts of snow and sunset pink dotted with faint yellow, all curated by your hand to shine with words you hadn’t the heart to speak aloud.

“As do I. These I arranged for you, in fact!” Hands curling around the vase, you held your gift aloft.

Legolas’s dark eyes lit up, mischief crossing his handsome face. “Now that I’ll be guessing the meaning?”

You flushed, rising from your seat as his hands covered yours, accepting your offering. “Well, I was just curious if you’ve heard of-”

“Oh, it is far too late for that! I’m certain Lord Elrond has books on the subject. By tomorrow I’ll be an expert, and who knows? Perhaps you’ll find some flowers of your own.”

You couldn’t help shakily smiling as Legolas’s eyes peered into yours glittering so, his hands still resting warmly over yours.

Boromir

“Boromir! Look!”

The man in question turned his head at the sound of your voice, watching as you bounded his way with hands full of flowers. Their bright color perfectly brought out the tone of your twinkling eyes, eyes that glittered unlike anything Boromir had ever witnessed before.

“Lovely, truly,” he inclined his head toward them as you reached him, “the finest. Where did you come by these?”

“Off at the far end of the meadow!”

Boromir chuckled deeply. “The firewood may have been forgotten, then?”

Pouting suited you, didn’t it? Adorable indeed. “Well, I just saw these and-”

“Worry not,” he slid an arm about your waist, “firewood is no emergency. You deserve this small joy- we all do.”

Glancing down a bit, you extended your hand, raising your treasure such that it practically brushed you both as it connected you. “Well, they are for you.” Were you flushing?

“For me? Well, what a gift! I suppose they do suit me more than you. After all…” Smiling, Boromir tightened his grip around you just a bit. “The most beautiful blossom in leagues is right here. If you keep this little bouquet they will envy you forever.”

Gimli

You stand beneath the awning’s shade, swaying slightly as you tend to the baskets placed along your cart. Your favorite is one filled with mountain poppies collected near the base of the snows, cheery and delicate and brisk as it had felt to be there trimming them. Truly you love your life, though it gets lonely having only plants to speak to. Sometimes you find yourself drifting into fantasy, imagining someone to protect you. You like to think you’re no damsel in distress, but the truth of the matter is you’ve never been a fighter and the village ravagers have been drawing closer.

~

A woman purchases a simple vase of sunflowers, nodding gratefully as you pass them to her. Behind her, though, emerges a shorter figure- a dwarf, by the looks of his armor and beard. You smile. That trip to the mountains introduced you to a host of very friendly dwarrowdams who bid you stay in their boardinghouse, boisterous though it may have been.

“Good afternoon,” you greet him from aside an arrangement of daisies.

“Good afternoon indeed! Tell me, though, why one as fair as yourself is hiding behind a lot of old daisies, eh?”

Flushing, you shrug and step around the side of the cart, removing all obstructions. “I suppose I’m just a bit used to it is all. Were you looking for anything in particular?”

The dwarf shakes his head. “Nay, I was just struck by the sight of the one smile this town seems to have.”

It is a fair point. Rohan has been downcast of late, hope in short supply with all the attacks. Your lot was seen as mere peasants in the way of it all.

“Times have been hard. The orc packs have been running rampant for a long time. I- I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”

Smirking victoriously, the dwarf leans on his axe. “You wouldn’t happen to mean the pack of stragglers that just got slaughtered, would you?”

You lit up. “You’ve seen them?”

“With my own eyes. They certainly won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Pick anything you’d like here, please, it isn’t much, but it is the least I could do to repay your gift,” you insisted, waving a hand over your display.

He scanned your cart before a look of comical shock burst across his face at the poppies. Noting it, you lifted the basket gingerly into his hands.

“Those are my favorites, too! And they are yours.”

“Only if you keep one to remember me by. Gimli, son of Glóin,” he introduces himself sweepingly, outstretched hand deftly producing a poppy to hold out your way.

Frodo

“What is this one?” Frodo inquired, holding up a small leather tome.

“Oh,” you tilted your head, “that one is a bit different. Here, let me show you.”

Shifting to sit at his side, you took the book from his outstretched palms and opened it, revealing pages blank save for the flowers you’d pressed in them, splashes of yellow, red, purple, green.

“I try to add one from everywhere I’ve been,” you added, turning the pages, “I even have a page from the Shire.”

The spread of the next pages revealed stems of lavender you’d plucked from gardens, Shire daisies, even some pansies you’d plucked from Bag End itself, and plenty more, too. Frodo’s bright eyes widened at the sight of it, a smile growing upon his lips.

“This is a treasure to see- a reminder of home, and one I can touch, too,” he sighed, brushing his fingers softly over the crisp petals, “I remember the feel of them again.”

His relief was practically palpable in the air as his eyelids fluttered shut in content, smile growing. Heart swelling, you pushed it closer to him.

“It’s yours.”

“I can’t-” He protested.

Handing the leather-bound book over to him, you nodded. “Yes, you can. Your happiness, your relief, is a much greater gift than these to me. The earth will renew it over again on my travels,” you told him with a smile.

One of Frodo’s hands left the petals long enough to linger atop yours. “I will never be parted from it.”

Sam

“Sam! Oh, Sam, wait up!”

Turning his golden head your way, Sam smiles the moment he sees you, sending your heart leaping from your chest as he speaks your name softly in reply.

“What is it?”

“Well, nothing, really,” you reply shyly, hands behind your back, “I just saw these and thought of you.”

Alight is the only word you could have used to describe Sam’s face as your hands leave your back and bring forth the bunch of little bluish-white blossoms you had just discovered a little off the road.

“Absolute beauts, those are,” he breathes with a grin, “harebell, they’re called. They like to grow in rocks for some reason, the little buggers.”

His knowledge sweeps you off your feet, but you can’t help asking. “Do you like them?”

“Of course I do! These are some really pretty ones, very bright indeed!”

Holding them out, you giggle nervously. “Well, good, because they’re for you! I picked these to give you, Sam.”

Jaw dropping and green eyes widening, Sam reaches forward and gently takes the miniature bouquet from your hands. “You mean it?” He asks with another bright grin.

“I really do,” you smile and nod.

For the rest of the day those harebells don’t leave Sam’s hand, and any time he has a moment’s idleness he’s looking at them, fingers gently caressing the blossoms as he glances your way with a smile.

Merry

Normally Merry dipped you. But you changed that that night. Normally he was the one to sweep you off your feet, charm you, but it was you who stole his breath away that night. The way you took his hand and pulled him closer into the dance, twirled him and brought him inches from your face, only had him wanting more.

What really got him, though? The rose you’d handed him at the end of it all. Such a simple gesture and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes off the thing. Or you.

Surely you noticed. The two of you were quite comfortable, else you wouldn’t be dancing so, but no one had gone beyond any teasing. It was all in good fun, unspoken attraction that suddenly grew, enveloping and consuming Merry’d beating heart as he looked at you with new passion. He needed someone who made his heart race so by his side. Someone like you could keep him up being the best hobbit he could be.

And that was why he marched right up to you later in the evening, taking one more massive swig of ale before he approached, rose twirling between his fingertips all the while.

“I hope you meant this,” he nodded down to the bright red bloom, “as much as I mean this.”

Your lips parted, the beginnings of a question fell from them, but not much escaped before your lips were pulled into Merry’s, your hands falling against his chest.

Pippin

Never had you felt so light as when you were around one mister Peregrin Took. All your time with him, it seemed, was spent in joy, laughter, comfort. One look from him was all it took for a smile to creep onto your face. One song from him and it was all you could do not to kiss him right then and there.

For your part, though, you weren’t sure how he felt, thus you acted accordingly, enjoying the time you had with him as much as possible without pushing your feelings. Well, not too much- he was quite fun to tease, after all!

A flower had caught your eye as you strolled, some little cousin to a daisy bursting from brush in a merry little yellow spark you couldn’t help taking for yourself.

Well, mostly. “For you,” you said in a playful lilt, holding it out his way.

The manner in which his smile and shoulders rose had you shyly grinning. “For me?” He repeated, ecstatic as he was incredulous.

The moment you nodded the flowers was all but snatched from your hand. “Where do you think it would look better, here?” First he tucked it into his mess of curls. “Or here?” Tucking it next into the buttonhole of his coat, he grinned at you.

Giggling, you told him he didn’t have to wear it.

“Oh, I want to. I want the whole of Middle Earth to know you’ve given me this gift.” Comical as his words were, the shine in his eyes told you Pippin was sincere.

Faramir

The steward of Gondor had gone up before the people to address them on some perceived victory. To his side he had pulled up his son, the elder one, and named him spearhead of it all. Boromir was a great man, certainly, but so in no shorter words was his brother Faramir, the dearer sibling to your heart.

The moment you met Faramir in the crowd of people, mostly men celebrating in their keep outfit, dented as it was, you rested a hand upon his shoulder. “Let nobody so insignificant taint your victory, Faramir. Were it not for you, half the city would not even be standing.”

“We could have kept it as it was if we-”

“No,” you shook your head, leaning a bit further on him, “none of that. You are a man, not a miracle worker. And so is your brother and everyone else in your family. You have fortitude of mind, strength of heart.”

“Yet less the swing of a sword,” Faramir chuckled.

“The swing of a sword alone a kingdom does not make,” you teasingly chastised, waving a finger, “besides, you have something none of them will ever have.”

“And what is that?” He asks, gently lifting your hand off his shoulder and up to his lips.

“My heart,” you reply, pulling one of the flowers woven into your hair out to press it into his other palm.

Faramir pulls those petals to his lips, too, twirling the stem thoughtfully with a hum. “Then I am, indeed, blessed.”

Eomer

Every time it felt like your heart would shatter. He left again and again but it never got easier wondering if the man you’d grown to love would be torn from you in a brutal battle, one lax moment ending it all.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he looked into them with a smile far too easygoing to you. Too assured.

“Do not look so defeated,” Eomer told you, reaching down with a hand to caress your face in a way that sent your heart leaping, “it’s a small raiding party, that is all.”

“I know, I just-” Your breath hitched, words caught in your throat. “I care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

At that, he smiled, releasing his hand again. “You should worry more for the orcs.”

“Still, though, here,” shaking your head, you produced the bundle of flowers you’d tied together for him, face warming, “take these. For luck.”

Eomer’s smile widened even as his horse grew a bit restless; giving its mane a quick pat, he reached down to accept your proffered gift. Sweeping some golden hair off his shoulder, he tucked your blossoms into his saddle.

“Now I know I’ll make it,” he replied, and with a wink he rode off.

Needless to say, he has gifts of his own planned when he returns: a confession, once and for all, and a kiss.

Haldir

"Come now, keep up!"

"Whatever for?"

Laughing, you turn to face Haldir once more and see him ascending the spiraling steps behind you with a look of exasperation. Perhaps, too, amusement. Long, fair hair whips about his face in the breeze as a smile teases onto his lips.

“Is it so bad to spend a little time together?” You shot back merrily, feet still eagerly tapping upon every plank that raised you higher amidst the boughs.

“I only ask because I know of your schemes,” Haldir teases in response.

“If you must know,” you stopped, hands on your hips before you waved one about a spray of vines snaking over the tree’s bark, powder-blue blossoms extending from them, “my scheme was to see if you'd noticed these in your travels."

"I had not," he murmured in response, stepping to your side to caress a pale petal gently, warmth filling you at his proximity.

With a small smile, you took up the age-old habit you'd developed in childhood so many years past, deftly plucking and weaving stems together as Haldir watched with amused interest. Unsure as you were how much time passed, he stood stock-still even as you finished your work, placing the crown of flowers atop his head.

"Here you are, My King," you jested with a smile, taking two steps forward.

Grey eyes staring into yours, Haldir took your hand, shaking his head softly and taking a blossom of his own. "Wait here. No king should rule alone, after all."

Eowyn

Riding brought such joy and exhilaration as one could hardly know elsewhere, especially with a fair and fearless maid like Lady Eowyn at your side. The smile you so longed to see bloomed across her face as you both urged your horses on, picking up speed into a run across the green of the plains. The thudding of hooves invigorated you as the pair of you pressed on, riding like the wind until whim took you to dismount and stop for a breather.

As you sat upon the grass, a dotting of pink flowers amidst the waving green caught your eye; joy seizing you, you picked one after the other until you had a tiny handful. Eowyn’s eyes, you saw, drifted over your work, but she said nothing.

Nothing, that was, until you broke the silence. “These remind me of you, you know. We often think of flowers here as signs of mourning, but these? These are hope. Bits of brightness out of nothing.”

She smiled faintly, shyly, blue eyes shining. “Sometimes it does not feel so.”

“Well, to me it is so,” you replied, extending your little bouquet her way.

The glitter of her eyes somehow brightened as she looked upon your gift, smile opening all the way. You were overcome at the sight of it, the return of warmth to the fairest of faces, and before you realized it you had leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

Arwen

“But surely you have already received so many mighty gifts!”

“None were from you,” Arwen replied simply, breathily, waving a hand, “come, show me.”

Her smile, breathtaking even in the simplest of moments, encouraged you to pull your hands from behind your back, revealing the bouquet you’d recently tied. With the best ribbon you’d found on hand, of course, beautiful white silk lined with thin silver.

“You see, I wanted to honor you with gifts pure as your heart- gifts from the earth. These are-”

“From the garden where we met!” Arwen was one to remain composed, often feeling the pressure of her years and upbringing and, surely, wisdom. “Of course I remember! You tripped and I caught you!”

Unable to help flushing beneath her grin and the rush of memory, the heat across your face as you pitched over a stone and were captured by the hand of the most graceful maiden you’d ever seen, you simply smiled. “That would be the time. Ever since that day I cannot walk past white roses without thinking of you. And that seems fitting,” you added.

Arwen pursed her lips, eyebrows raising curiously. “Oh?”

“Pure,” you repeated, “fair and beloved as all. Delicate, but formidable. More than capable of defending themselves.”

“Are you saying I have thorns?” She teased, leaning an arm upon your shoulder, breath warm against your ear.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” you shot back, “perhaps I am.”

“Well, at any rate, I love this gift far beyond all displays of wealth. This is a gift of your heart, is it not?”

The moment you nodded, her arms were thrown about your neck, pulling you into the warmth of her chest and letting your heart beat against hers.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hey, hi! You have very cool works, I really like reading you and always wait for your works. Please, do not leave us here alone.

I have a question: what can you say about a reader in the Mortal Kombat world (yandere) who has absolutely no emotional intelligence (like me)? Which yandere would be the scariest for such a reader, and which ones are the softest?

I don't mean that the reader will be cruel or heartless, but he is simply not in tune with emotions and cannot understand what others are feeling. As someone who suffers from this, I can say that I often don't notice how someone falls in love with me, and sometimes this leads to awkwardness

P. S. Who is your favorite fighter, if it's not a secret?

A/N: aww thank you for requestinggg. This is so camp. I struggle with empathy and similar things too. I went a little more broad with it. Alsooolo between mk11 and Mk1 there’s a big personality jump with a lot of characters so my answer is different depending on the game. Hopefully I did this request some justice.

(P.S. Kung Lao is my 1 fave and then Johnny. For female characters it’s Mileena and then scarlett. I like them crazy lol.)

Characters: I only did the ones I actually care about lol.

Warnings: This is purely my opinion based off of my interpretation of yanderes. Please bear in mind that when I write Yandere, it’s at extremes.

Requests: always open

Masterlist

Safe Zone

Mk11 Fujin, Kotal Khan, Night wolf, Kuai Liang, Jax , MK1 Reptile, Raiden, Smoke, Baraka, both Liu Kang, Kenshi, both gerases

While you maybe aren’t intentionally trying to discard them or hurt their feelings, it doesn’t seem like it at first. Why are you so blank? How can you just shrug off a confession like that? Do you hate them?

Once they get to know you better by studying and observing your habits, they realize that this is simply the way you are. They are compassionate enough where they don’t really let it bother them anymore.

They have not only a legitimate love for you (under their deranged behaviors), but a lot of emotional intelligence. At their core, they have a bit more maturity on things like this compared to their counterparts. Especially Fujin and Kotal Khan, they’ve been here for ages and have dealt with many different personalities before. You’re not really the first person who has been emotionally shut off like this. Besides, it’s not like you’re showing someone else more love or attention than them so..whatevs

(If you do discard them for another person tho, they will raise hell about it and retract their compassion.)

They will be more direct and intentional about what they want and their feelings so it's not so confusing for you. I can also imagine them guiding and helping you understand them more by maybe taking a different approach towards empathy? Emotional intelligence can be improved and I think they’d be rather good at this. You might not be fully there on everything (depending on where this is stemming from) but you’d have a better grasp at least.

I will say though that at times they might get sad when you don’t initiate affection or respond emotionally how they’d ideally picture it. Especially if there’s absolutely no improvement after a while, they’d get manipulative. They’d make you believe you feel something that you actually can’t. Also might get a bit frustrated by your impulsivity, outbursts and isolation.

Danger Zone

Mk11Shang tsung,Kano,Johnny Cage, Kung Lao, Erron Black, Hanzo Hasashi, Kabal, Dark Raiden,Baraka, Noob Saibot, Shao Khan MK1 Bi-Han Johnny Cage, Quan Chi, Shang Tsung, General Shao, Kuai Liang, Kung Lao

They. Do. Not. Care.

All of these men have a massive ego that needs to be stroked and inflated by you. They want praise, love and affection. They want 100% of you. Yes, that includes emotionally.

They really don’t care what the reason is for why you are ignoring their advances, you will reciprocate. Their demands will be met and you are in love with them. Fake it good!

I hope you’re a quick learner because you have to pick up on their cues. You should know exactly what they need and when they need it. Your words should be ever so carefully chosen and your actions should have much enthusiasm.

There is no room for your mistakes and accidentally offending them, you will be punished for it. Mood swings and impulsively can result in reactive behaviors on their end.

Don’t make any of your interactions with them awkward in front of others. It isn’t funny to embarrass your “lover” like this.

No. you can’t be self centered. They are the center of your life. No. You cannot hold grudges against them. You should always forgive their actions. Aaaaand no. You really cannot ignore/not listen to them. How dare you.

Wait…it almost sounds like they are just as emotionally immature. Nahhh. They’re worse.

Yeah there’s no room for your Low EL, they need you to be a stable sounding board or else this relationship is going to be far more toxic than anything you’ve ever seen.

They’re completely far gone, no amount of explanation can save you. They will use any means necessary to get something out of you that isn’t even there in the first place. You are going to be everything they imagined you to be and more.

Conflicting feelings

Ngl kinda wanted to put Mk11 Johnny up top because I just am stuck on the fact that MK1 Johnny is a far worse Yandere. Like MK1 Johnny is older, mellowed out and is very mature at this point…but then I remembered his younger self. His mk11 younger version would be far more menacing than MK1. Mk11 Johnny Cage’s younger self would come out of him during his obsession. He can’t help but be an absolute asshat and forget all about his growth when it comes to you. Once a playboy always a playboy.

Kinda wanted MK1 King Lao in the top category aswell but…do I have to further explain. He’s definitely not as cocky and arrogant as his MK11 counterpart but he’s young, immature and impulsive. I don’t think he’d understand your low EL. It would drive him insane thinking that his darling isn’t reciprocating. He’d become rather aggressive and an egotistical monsterrrr in the process.

Kotal Khan really got me too because like he’s absolutely a lover boy but his heart isn’t as warm as it used to be.😭😭 debated putting him in the danger zone because there is so much potential for him to be cray cray but rewatching him and Jade interacting with each other made me choose the softer route. I think once he realizes you are just emotionally immature he’s just unphased by you. Like I can’t see him being that upset by his darling or something like that?? He’d be patient and understanding. He might’ve once been just like you but with time and age, he changed. So can you. Maybe I’m just being too generous?

Dark Raiden. I mean Raiden himself isn’t very intelligent when it comes to emotions. He’s goal and logically focused so I think he’d understand you. BUT what made me change my opinion was that dark! Raiden is completely corrupted and so is his way of thinking. He’s twisted and probably can’t really register your low EL. I think he’d perceive it as you being purposefully defiant towards him.

Mk1 Kuai Liang. People make him super soft and cuddly but Idk I feel like if I’m putting Bi-Han in the danger zone that it makes sense for his brother to be. They grew up in the same environment and Kuai is shown having similar or even worse traits to him. I don’t think he’s a saint. Smoke stands out more to me as someone who’d be softer. His voice lines and personality reflects that.

How do I even tag this 😩

[tomatopers]

biggest peeves with genshin x reader fics

I'm going to preface this by saying you can write whoever you want however you want and no one is gonna stop you; heck, it likely won't even affect your likes and stuff. These are my personal peeves stemming from character portrayal <3 Characters A-D

Albedo ;; He isn't very heavily emotive; He is shown to approach almost everything from a logical/analytic standpoint!! My guy expressed concern with the most nonchalant voice, so he clearly does care, just not in an expressive/passionate way

Alhaitham ;; Similar to Albedo, but slightly more expressive! He clearly has things/people that he values, and his own ways of showing care differ from societal norms, which is why he comes across as cold and indifferent!! Even the vulnerability that comes slowly with trust isn't immediately obvious, but this is definitely something that's interesting to explore in works⎯ Would he change the way he feels comfortable expressing himself into something else for you? Would you want him to?

Aloy ;; fuck what genshin did to my girl im skipping aloy

Amber ;; One of her main personality traits is the lack of deliberation!! Even with people she really cares about and loves!! Overthinking? We don't know them

Itto ;; Let bro be silly. Let bro make mistakes. Let bro have no idea what he's doing, but know he's giving it his all no matter what⎯ This is the Arataki Way.

Arlecchino ;; Gonna be honest I know jack shit about her but everything I read sounds hot <3 I do think she isn't the type to get frazzled/embarrassed but boy oh boy you can try

Baizhu ;; bffr he would NOT let you neglect your health like... Look at the man 🤨 I don't think he's the yelling type either?? Like he'll stand up for you obviously, but wouldn't start a fight imo; He got them dangerous snake eyes and scary words fr

Barbara ;; idk i don't read minor x reader things + i don't think i've ever seen a barbara x reader ever 💀 I do think she'd be patient and caring to the point where doing anything bad would make you feel guilty asf :/ not even in a romantic way, just like⎯anything. The kind persona isn't actually an act, she's in a role where she cannot be seen as anything else but it isn't hard to be kind as she would act that way, idol or not. More of a character thought, not a fic peeve </3

Beidou ;; She would start fights for you and she'd win, we all know this. I do think that many fics don't explore her emotions to a deeper extent, like motives and such? I think there's a lot of flexibility in that, and many avenues to explore! Not a peeve either, just a thought.

Bennett ;; Minor again(?), I don't read Bennett fics aha 😭 Grasping at straws here, with such a brave face shown to everyone, taking it off to share the sadder stuff sounds hard

Candace ;; Dunno much either 💀 Nor do I see any fics about her...

Charlotte ;; Would she love and cherish you? Yes. Would she leave her job for you? No. Would she feel bad about always being busy chasing headlines? Yes! Would she only really do well with a partner who supports her career and aspirations? Yes!

Chevreuse ;; Sorry guys I don't even know her 😭

Chiori ;; Would also start fights for you, would also win; Clearly takes no shit, I imagine certain compromises would take a while to reach? Canonically fairly headstrong, I doubt she'd be a pushover with an s/o

Chongyun ;; Minor 🧍

Clorinde ;; Her showing vulnerability with you definitely means a LOT. Beyond her career and the things she does for it, I just know there's so much going on in her head :( Let my girl share, give her a safe space, be patient to eventually emotionally connect

Collei ;; Minor 🤨

Cyno ;; He does not seem like the dominant/aggressive/pushy type :( I bet there's complicated feelings between the way he acts as a General and the way he acts with a lover⎯undeniably would never want you to be scared of him. Teasing type, likely nothing worse.

Dehya ;; I haven't seen her done dirty, so I'm pretty content

Diluc ;; High-functioning man, having dealt with varying stressors over so many years I doubt anything could interrupt his work flow⎯having said that, yes that means issues with a relationship making him struggle to work would mean more; Yes, i still believe that's highly unlikely

Diona ;; No.

Dori ;; No. Also, I hate her.

[merakiui]

I’ve seen bits and pieces about your take on yandere Trey but i need to hear more of your thoughts on him. Your interpretation of yandere Trey seems so different from all the other interpretations I’ve seen of him… like you said he was the scariest yandere at one point, and then the post about chenya riddle and Trey — I need to know

*cracks knuckles* >:) here are my thoughts!!

He's definitely one of the scariest twst yans (to me)! Trey's character is so fascinating because, compared to some of the more powerful/influential characters, he seems like Some Guy. What's so frightening about Trey is that he doesn't have to use violence or threats. Rather, it's the way he can twist his words to keep you constantly questioning yourself and your reality. He has the perfect boy-next-door sort of charm that lulls you into that false sense of security, and you'll never truly know the extent of his manipulations because of how flawlessly he can gaslight you. And everyone else will think you're crazy because Trey's not like that. He's gentle and helpful, everyone's big brother! Maybe you're the crazy one... (Are you??)

His UM is quite literally just a more sophisticated, magical version of gaslighting (lol). ^^;;;; the way that can be used against you and you might not even know. Trey plays it off as a parlor trick in book one when he changes the flavor of food to suit everyone's preferences, but it's seen to be quite formidable against Riddle's magic. If a UM can overwrite the very overpowered Riddle's magic....... even if only for a few minutes,,, that's no mere parlor trick.

Perhaps the horror stems from how very easy it is to fall into the trap. Trey isn't a yandere you approach with fear because there's nothing about him that would give you valid reason to stay away. It's understandable for someone like the tweels or even Vil because they have that air of intimidation about them, but Trey is so sweet and kind. He couldn't hurt a fly. He's so easy to approach.

Trey is not very combative either. If you come to him with an issue (perhaps an attempt to call out his behaviors) he'll smooth things over in such a way that you come out of that conversation wondering what you were even trying to talk to him about. He understands where you're coming from, he knows you're just stressed, everything will sort itself out, let's all just calm down, etc etc., all while over tea and some freshly baked pastries.

Also,,, gaslighting is such an effective and dangerous form of emotional abuse because of how successful it can be. When it's happening, it doesn't seem very damaging and, rather, it can feel as if everything Trey is telling you is correct. After all, why are you getting so worked up? You must be exaggerating these feelings of yours! It sounds so logical coming from his mouth, and why would Trey have any reason to lie to you? You're so wrapped around his finger and you don't even know it. Your world is so closed off, crafted by the things he tells you. You may think you have control, but at the end of the day it's Trey who keeps you hooked on his line like you're nothing more than an impressionable fish.

Omg and the infantilization....... he tells you it's just a habit of his from looking after his younger siblings, and he plays it off so casually and jokingly every time. You begin to wonder if it really is just a bad habit of his. But then there should be no reason for him to treat you like you can't do things you're fully capable of doing. You ask yourself 'what if' all the time. What if you don't have Trey there to help? What if you truly can't do that thing? What if Trey was right?

You're not a child; you're not codependent. But you always feel this way around Trey, and that's a snare that's difficult to shake. Especially when Trey so smoothly hammers that narrative into your head.

[amaltheas-garden]

What's your take on Dany being a misunderstood villain in the books? How much likely is it that she won't be the Mad Queen and will not get dark dany?

To answer your second question, dark Dany is almost a guarantee for the books. One of the most unique aspects of Dany's characters is that she is a woman fulfilling the role of an almost exclusively male archetype: the corrupted hero turned villain. She begins the story as an underdog we want to root for, she comes from a great noble bloodline and her family has been terribly wronged (from her pov), and she decides to use the power she does gain to do good. Her character arc could end right there and she'd go down as one of the best written heroes in the fantasy genre. However, her story does continue, and we see her grow increasingly frustrated by her own lack of abilities in enacting the change she wishes to see. We watch Dany make compromise after compromise until she's had enough and decides to embrace her fire and blood side if it means gaining enough power to exert control over her society and mold it how she sees fit. Even if her intentions began noble, the endless pursuit of greater and greater power, represented by the growing size and danger of her dragons, will be what corrupts her. It's impossible to think that grrm, the guy who's favorite thing to write about is the corrupting nature of violence and the negative impact the exertion of unrestrained power has on the perpetrator, would write a series about how thee most powerful character was actually justified in her pursuit because... she wants to do good? My interpretation of Dany's "fatal flaw" has always been a need to control her surroundings, stemming from the horrific abuse she endured as a child and later wife, and why I think she does have genuine compassion for the enslaved people of Essos; what could be a worse fate than not controlling your own life? And this is where her love of fire and dragons comes from. Dany describes fire as a cleansing force that makes her feel powerful and new, and the dragons are manifestations of her desire for ultimate freedom. While her dragons are quite small and Dany is still coming into her power as queen, we see more restraint in how she fights her battles, how she negotiates, and how she governs, all while wishing her goals of widespread societal change could happen right then. Now that her dragons have grown large and powerful and restless, we will likely see a Dany with far fewer qualms about using them to get what she wants. And after this goes well for her, her restraint will begin to dwindle. After all, if she can use dragon power to instantaneously get what she wants and change things for the better, why should she approach conflicts any other way? But as we've seen with Cersei, fire is a wild, uncontrollable substance that spells destruction wherever it touches. Dany's enemies have all been one note cartoon villains in how evil they are, and every time one gets taken down, it only bolsters our (and Dany's) belief in her righteousness. I think this is very intentional on grrm's part, as part of his whole gimmick and why people like his writing is his incredible ability to add a level of nuance and even empathy to the most minor and despicable characters. I see no reason why that quality should be so utterly lacking in the characters of Essos if not for the fact that grrm very much wants us to cheer Dany on as she crushes her enemies, only to pull the carpet out from under us when suddenly she is face to face with Westerosi characters we know very well, and would prefer not to see die by dragonfire. Season 8 might have been shit, but Tyrion's speech was on point. In short, Dany's desire to exert control via an uncontrollable power will be her downfall.

As for the first question, by "misunderstood villain" I'm assuming we're talking audience perception, in which case... yes and no. I think Dany is a perfectly understandable misunderstood villain because grrm makes a point to show every step of her character's evolution in the transition from frightened girl to possible savior, and finally a tragic villain. Some readers reject the "villain" characterization altogether, and there's really no way to validate one interpretation over the other until TWoW comes out (lol). I will say, I do think most hero-Dany analyses have tunnel vision when it comes to her and an unwillingness to see the writing on the walls, for what a lot of us see as a very slow, well thought out, and GRADUAL corruption arc.

[crazerk]

Just wanted to share a snippet from the update. I’m experimenting with POV switches and it’s kinda long cause I don’t know how to not ramble even if there was a gun pointed at my head.

It’s still unfinished, and unpolished as I’ll be adding character specific details and editing and whatnot later, or maybe cutting the entire scene altogether. But anyway please enjoy :)

Also it contains some SPOILERS.

Valide Zarayan reclined on plush silk cushions, her eyes scanning the crowd with razor-sharp focus. To the casual observer, she appeared the picture of regal serenity - her elaborately coiffed hair adorned with glittering jewels, her gown a masterpiece of embroidery and precious stones. But beneath that placid exterior, a storm brewed.

Her gaze inevitably returned to her son, seated at the head of the gathering. He was resplendent in robes of deep sapphire blue, the imperial crown glinting atop his dark curls. He looked like his father in certain lights, the same firm set to his jaw, the same commanding presence.

Yet something in his bearing gave her pause. There was a tightness around his eyes, a slight tension in the set of his shoulders that only a mother would notice.

"More wine, Your Majesty?" A servant approached, crystal decanter in hand.

Khazunef nodded absently, barely glancing at the man as his goblet was refilled. His eyes remained fixed on the troupe of performers twirling before him - acrobats and fire-eaters whose daring flips drew gasps of awe from the assembled courtiers. But Zarayan could see that her son's applause was courteous at best, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

She leaned in close, pitching her voice low. "Is something troubling you, my son? You seem... distracted."

Khazunef's gaze flickered to her briefly before returning to the spectacle before them. "Not at all, mother. The feast is magnificent, as always. You've outdone yourself."

His tone was polite, but there was an underlying coolness that made Zarayan's heart clench. Gone was the bright-eyed boy who had once delighted in such pageantry. In his place sat a man burdened by the weight of an empire.

"The High Priest has predicted favorable omens," Khazunef continued, a hint of genuine relief coloring his words. "And I've received word that the drought in the Western provinces is finally abating."

Zarayan seized the opportunity, raising her voice just enough to be overheard by the nearby nobles. "How delightful. It seems the gods themselves smile upon your reign, my son. Truly, you bring peace and prosperity to our people."

A chorus of sycophantic agreement rose from the surrounding courtiers. Goblets were raised in toast to their young Shah's wisdom and benevolence. Khazunef acknowledged them with a regal nod, but Zarayan could see the way his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the stem of his cup.

She waited for the murmur of conversation to rise once more before leaning in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Perhaps this bounty is a sign, my dear. The perfect time to think about securing the future of our dynasty. A family of your own..."

The change was instant. Khazunef's posture stiffened, his jaw clenching as he took a long pull of wine. When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. "The empire's needs are many, mother. My personal affairs can wait."

Zarayan felt a familiar surge of frustration, then anger. Did he not understand the precariousness of their position? The blood that had been spilled to place him on that throne? She wanted to shake him, to make him see reason. But instead she merely inclined her head, a placid smile masking the turmoil within.

"Of course, my son. I only wish for your happiness and the continued strength of our bloodline."

Khazunef waved a dismissive hand. "This is a celebration. I'll hear no more of it."

Zarayan stifled a sigh, biting back a sharp retort. He was as stubborn as ever. She nearly forgot how much he acted like his father as well. She would simply have to find another way to make him see reason.

For now, she would allow him his reprieve. She settled back against the cushions, her smile fixed in place even as her mind raced.

Her thoughts drifted to the past, to a laughing boy with curious eyes who would pepper her with endless questions about the world. Her sweet, happy boy who’s joy she took solace in.

That boy was gone now, replaced by this distant man who wore the crown like a millstone. Zarayan knew the cruelties of court life had shaped him, hardened him. The incident with his brothers – a necessary evil, she reminded herself – had left scars deeper than she had anticipated.

It had to be done, she thought, pushing down the flicker of regret.

If only her son would see that.

A figure in richly embroidered robes approached, bowing low before the royal dais.

"Your Imperial Majesty! Your most gracious Valide!" The man's voice dripped with honeyed flattery. "What a magnificent celebration! Truly, the Sharazad court outshines all others in its splendor."

Zarayan recognized him as Vizier Mahmus, an ambitious climber whose family had only recently risen to prominence. She watched as Khazunef's demeanor shifted, the mask of the implacable ruler sliding seamlessly into place.

"We are pleased you find it to your liking, Vizier," Khazunef replied, his tone coolly cordial. "Tell me, how fare the trade negotiations with the merchant guild?"

As the two men fell into discussion of matters of state, Zarayan allowed her attention to drift.

A peal of silvery laughter caught her ear, and she turned to see Empress Yaris holding court amidst a cluster of fawning noblemen. The woman was undeniably beautiful, her pale skin luminous in the lantern light, her auburn hair adorned with emeralds and gold. But it was the man at her side that made Zarayan's eyes narrow dangerously.

Parvis, Khazunef's uncle, leaned in close to whisper something in Yaris' ear. The Empress' eyes danced with mirth, and she placed a hand on his arm in a gesture that was far too familiar for Zarayan's liking.

The fool did not pull away, no. Parvis placed a possessive hand on the small of Yaris' back, his touch lingering a fraction too long. Zarayan's lip curled in disgust

Parvis had long been a thorn in her side, his influence over her son growing with each passing day. With Khazunef's reluctance to sire an heir, Parvis' ambitions were clear. The man was a snake, and his ambition would be their downfall if left unchecked.

She turned back to her son, who had finally extricated himself from the Vizier's obsequious chatter. "Khazunef," she murmured, careful to keep her voice low. "Perhaps it is time you reminded your wife of the proper decorum expected of an Empress. Her behavior with your uncle is... unseemly."

Khazunef followed her gaze, his expression hardening as he took in the intimate scene. But to Zarayan's surprise, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth

"You think my uncle has designs on my wife?" he asked, an odd note of amusement in his tone.

"Perhaps not," Zarayan huffed. "But it is unseemly, regardless." 

Khazunef seemed unconcerned, taking another sip of his wine. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But I would not interfere. See how they amuse one another? It keeps them out of my way."

The casual dismissal stung Zarayan more deeply than she cared to admit, as well as the complacency of her son. They were not simply amusing each other. They could be planning his death while he sat there, unconcerned. It seemed that her son had blinders when it came to his personal affairs. 

She could not stop the words that escaped her lips, sharp as a dagger's edge. "Do you think a capable ruler would neglect the state of his own household? How can you hope to govern an empire when you allow such blatant disrespect under your own roof?"

Her son froze, his eyes narrowing dangerously. In the dim light he looked like his father again, matching scowls and all. For the briefest of moments Zarayan was Celaena again, in the presence of her tempestuous husband who was about to strike her. 

But her son did not strike her. Instead he took a slow, measured breath. The resemblance to his father faded as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a mask of imperial calm. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled, but edged with steel.

"Mother," he said, leaning in close to ensure their conversation remained private, "I appreciate your concern, misplaced as it is. But I will not discuss this matter further, especially not here." His eyes flicked meaningfully towards the nearby courtiers. "I suggest you retire for the evening if you cannot maintain proper decorum."

He straightened in his seat, adjusting his robes with practiced nonchalance.

Zarayan bit back the words that rose in her throat, her mind racing. How could she make him understand? His personal affairs were the concern of the entire empire when it came to his lack of heirs. 

She opened her mouth to speak when a familiar figure materialized at her elbow.

"Your Majesty, most esteemed Valide," Orgion, the Chief Eunuch, bowed low. "The new concubines are ready to be presented, as you requested."

Zarayan saw the anger still simmering Khazunef's eyes, his jaw tightening as he glared at Orgion.

"I do not recall making such a request, Chief Eunuch."

Zarayan seized the opportunity to change the subject, forcing lightness into her tone. "Ah yes, how forgetful of me. Khazunef, I hope you don't mind that I've taken this liberty. Your harem is still rather... sparse for a man of your station."

She watched her son carefully, noting the way his jaw clenched again at the reminder of his neglected duties. But he said nothing, merely taking another sip of wine. She gestured for Orgion to continue.

The portly eunuch beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, Your Majesty, you will be most pleased! Such beauty, such grace - truly, they are jewels fit for an emperor's crown!"

Khazunef's cool gaze settled on Orgion, and the man's effusive praise died in his throat. He stammered to a halt, mopping his brow nervously.

"If you are quite finished, show me these marvelous women, that we might continue our feast."

Orgion bowed so low he nearly toppled over, then scurried away to make the necessary arrangements. Zarayan allowed herself a small smile of triumph, sending a silent prayer to the gods that this would be the catalyst needed to spark her son's interest in matters of the harem.

[alexandraisyes]

What would happen if you were a writer for TSAMS?

I mean we'll never know unless we try, however-

God the temptation to make jokes about shipping ajfsdkg;ljfasd;l

In all seriousness I'm good at finding and fixing plot holes and writing consistent storylines. I've been writing solo for years, and recently I've been co-writing fics for this fandom. And stars I'll say it now, obviously I wouldn't drag fan ships into the canon lore, that would be stupid considering most of them just wouldn't work with canon.

If I had the chance to write for TSAMS I would definitely try to influence the way certain things (specifically things like mental disorders) are portrayed, because I understand being part of the audience and the frustration of only seeing part of the story and missing an entire important perspective. I personally find so much enjoyment in that because I get to tear everything apart, dissect it, and put it back together so the fandom can understand what the story is portraying, but the fact that someone is required to tear it apart to get what should have been an obvious message most of the time is an issue, in my opinion.

A consistent problem I've noticed with TSAMS is that it's overly omnipotent on some things while being too closed about others. This is a narrative problem that stems from not having enough time to figure out the best approach for new situations they want to incorporate. This is because the writers/VAs are so bogged down by personal projects, stream schedules, their servers, life, etc that they just don't have time to figure these things out. Especially when the company is pushing for more content/lore episodes and they're just a team of four. Four very very busy individuals that have to write AND voice act the entire cast of characters. I feel like having someone who is just a writer would help with a lot of the inconsistency and unresolved plot holes.

There's a lot of strong potential for things that would stem back as far as two years that would be so interesting to see incorporated, but they just don't have the time to work through those and it's easier to keep jumping on new boats and abandoning the ones they have to sink because of unresolved tears in the plot letting more inconsistencies trickle in like so much water. So I would absolutely work to correct those and clean up the holes and resolve unanswered questions.

I'd also push for more consistent characterization, or rather better worded, deeper characterization. Not that they don't have good characterization now, overall I think they do a decent job, but there are just some things that I wish they'd touch on more. Likes, dislikes, disorders, complications, relationships, etc. What really makes up these characters; I'd probably end up with a complicated character web for the main cast at the very least to help with consistent storytelling. I do this with my own AUs to keep characters consistent, including quirks (For example Solar Flare always refers to people by their full name in my writing). It would also be interesting to dig deeper into what makes the characters them. Their personalities, beliefs, interests, morality/standards (for those without morals), and what they did and didn't find traumatic (as well as what level of trauma).

God even just the thought of how I could potentially fix the dumpster fire (/affectionate /positive) of TSAMS and co is a little exciting because there's just so much potential lying around untampered with that I would happily dig my grubby little claws into.

[devisopod]

Book of Bill Ramblings

If you don't want spoilers, I'd suggest you stop reading before the cut. This'll contain quotes from the book! I've avoided content and conversation about this thing like the plague, so I'm going in blind. This is gonna be a wall of text if you're on mobile. Have fun, if you're into that.

I'm gonna solve the ciphers by myself, so they won't be included here, it's more fun that way! This is all just my "analysis" or whatever you wanna call it.

|| PREFACE

I am an adult. I'm not here to argue or debate with anyone about the content of this book! I'm simply sharing my personal breakdown, so these opinions and statements are in no way meant to be taken as "the right way" to look at it. They're how I alone choose to view the text! I'm open to discuss it, if you want, like sane and civilized people. Heated arguments or grumblings fueled by the discontent that someone doesn't buy into the way YOU'RE perceiving a work of fiction is unwelcome.

Now.

Before I even had the book in my hand, I knew how I wanted to approach this. I had to keep in mind this is all meant to be written by the worst character in the series (from a narrative standpoint), and he isn't supposed to be pitied. So seriously obvious, I know, but it's THE most important factor to circle back to given ANY tidbit of information.

Since this is his point-of-view, which is such a skewed perspective to begin with, it's ultimately bound to be manic (and god was it). He's everything we already know him to be: out of his mind, a compulsive liar, a pro at manipulation, and literally so self-important. That's what makes it difficult to trust whether or not things that happened (or didn't happen) will be altered by his unstable state of mind.

I think I'd even go as far as to say that he's delusional in a lot of ways. No matter how smart he thinks he is, or objectively is, he's a highly flawed individual that is constantly sabotaging himself. And what's more, he doesn't CARE. Bill, while driven in his own right, is highly apathetic unless events or actions directly impact him significantly and negatively.

INITIAL AND UNCATEGORIZED THOUGHTS:

- Holy shit, it's like Bill prides himself on being some sort of "all-knowing" being, but he's really just a fat gossip.

- Bill says it and stresses it multiple times in this book that not only is reality not under your control, but you don't understand it. Only he understands it, and you're just too dumb. Nothing is real. But the universe is a hologram, and everything is also a multiverse. Dennis and Kyle hold our existence in a binder.

- As suggested, he is quite literally feeding you lies, and he's having fun doing it.

- So, Bill's kind of dead, but not really. He's existing in a "half life" state. "Descending through circles, battling demons, reliving [his] whole life... somewhere far away... where the music is always out of tune. Where everyone smiles but no one is happy". Sounds like a mall lmao.

Okay, we'll get into it. My back hurts.

1 || "SIXER, IT WOULD EAT YOU ALIVE."

Let me just start this by saying that Bill sees Ford as a possession. He spent a lot of time grooming him, so he feels HEAVILY entitled to Ford in an "I made you" sort of way. Which is just about as messed up as you'd expect it to be! Bill EXPECTS Ford to be okay with this and even functions under the assumption that Ford wants to belong to him, which is very likely a stem from how open to the relationship Ford was at the beginning. He's constant in sharing that he's grateful for Bill's influence and that it's made his life so much better.

That aside, Bill is repeatedly suggesting to the reader that people that hate him actually love him a lot. And it's so likely that some twisted line of love and being used was blurred between these two. I've said it before and I'll say it again: sharing a mind and a body with a seemingly god-like being is going to fuck you and your perspective UP, I don't care who you are.

After all, "the more people love you, the more brainwashed sheep you can bend to your whims! So CONQUERING HEARTS is one of the most important things you can do!"

While, Ford is an immensely strong-willed individual, he's so very weak to Bill's manipulation because Bill knows EXACTLY what he wants to hear. He's been learning and planning for this kind of thing for a very, very long time and using countless others to do so. So, his false loyalty and promises, though really suspicious to anyone else, appeal to Ford's ego and subconcious because they're specifically catered to him.

And this is where Bill thrives. He is extremely efficient at finding the selfishness within others and exploiting it because he is selfish. He doesn't care what happens as long as he reaches his goal. Any pain along the way isn't gonna be his, so why not just relax and enjoy it? And he's found his match: a "brilliant, morally ambiguous, and romantically challenged" individual. To him, Ford fits the bill (no pun intended), and no dumb Shaman is gonna scare him off this one. It's all a trick to keep him away from advancing his portal plans, right?

He emphasizes his excitement at the prospect of Ford's potential as a pawn by saying, "This is what a partner looks like. The ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated from anyone who might steer him clear of my plans."

He's impressionable and gullible enough to follow him blindly in the name of discovery and arguably as a result of his alienation in the odd town that is Gravity Falls.

And that's where I think Bill's influence should be addressed. Bill's been whispering in Ford's ear, making his life easier, and "fixing" his problems by offering solutions that HE would use. That's the scary part, I think. Bill uses so many different types of flattery, even gives Ford a lot of confidence that he needs, which really feeds into Ford's trust.

2 || GUYS WITH BIG BRAINS GET ON MY NERVES

After seeing Stan on TV, selling the "Grifter", Ford starts to seem like he's having second thoughts about maybe calling Stan up. Bill is, naturally, quick to shoot this down by convincing him it's a waste of time.

With both Stan and Fiddleford, we see Bill kind of steering Ford away. It's clear Ford wants to be around both of them, but as Bill has already suggested, he wants to keep this one isolated. Ford's attention should ONLY be on him and the work that needs to be done. He's not gonna make the same mistakes he made with his previous puppets.

It's unclear whether Bill complicates things on purpose or not, but he certainly isn't interested in making them better.

As far as the relationship between Ford and Fiddleford is concerned (whether you view it as brotherly, romantic, or platonic), I think it had a lot of potential to bring Ford away from Bill, but Ford is just not equipped to be a solid and reliable partner at this stage of his life. He's too focused, too full of himself, and really desperate to fill the hole Stan left. Or maybe not desperate enough.

I've made this point before and I'll make it again: the vast majority, if not all of, the heavy lifting in the dynamic between Ford and Fiddleford IS DONE BY FIDDLEFORD. He is a very caring and loyal person, very much to a fault in this situation.

The Christmas gifts he makes Ford are very personal. Ford means a lot to Fiddleford, so much so that he doesn't see his family often and chooses to help with the research. Whether or not Fiddleford and Emma-May were already having issues can't be judged based on the information given, but it's possible that it plays a part in his absence. It seems like the most likely possibility to me, though. Fiddleford doesn't seem the type to just forget about something like that, especially exhibiting such a friendly and kind demeanor, so I'm willing to bet they were already having problems.

Ford, as I see it, very rarely goes out of his way to do things for Fiddleford, though. However, I will give him props for being good enough to cheer Fiddleford up after he returns from his family.

What I will say, is that Ford relies on Fiddleford a great deal, and I'm not entirely sure how healthy that is. Fiddleford is Ford's ONLY real friend, and definitely the only one not feeding him questionable advice.

Therapy.

3 || CUCKOO CLOCK

Therapy, right? Yeah.

Anyway, Bill REALLY gets after Ford when the whole portal thing goes south. And that's sure to be a hell of a time. Ford is put through immense pain physically and mentally during it all, and wow does it actually sound horrifying. Even during this aggressive and desperate scramble to get Ford to do his bidding, Bill is beating Ford down and trying his best to use his hardships against him while also trying to convince Ford that he needs Bill. He's got nobody else.

He tries everything: sabotage, threats, you name it. Even though Ford doesn't realize his wrongs entirely here, he still knows he has to do something to rectify all that he's done. And boy, does he wanna kill that triangle.

He even loses his mind just a little bit more about this time, grasping at straws and realizing how bad he fucked up.

But now, we skip ahead. Things are better. All that's passed.

The ending of this book was about as satisfying as I imagined it would be. The Pines family. Simple and clean. A thoughtful message from Ford, and some inserts from Mabel, Dipper, and Stan. Stan's message is probably my favorite, and rightfully so.

These four are what it's all about to me. Each sibling has the other, and they're all happy. Bill can't touch them anymore, no matter how much this book of his tries. They're smarter than he is, and it's because they don't intend to be divided by him ever again.

[smehur]

A love letter to Running on Air

I wrote this months ago, directly after reading, and sat on it till now for no reason I can name.

I finally read this fandom classic. I paced myself, reading it in reasonable chunks over several days, until I reached the final third, which I read in one sitting, alternately smiling and despairing. Did I love it? Yes. So, so much. Even though it left me… wanting.

This is the most literary piece of fanfiction I’ve read so far, and I know of only a few others (À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss and Between the Power Lines by @tackytigerfic) that impart such a strong sense of placedness. Whether the author is familiar with the places they describe from lived experience or from research*, the impression of having been there with the characters never faltered. I could feel the bite of cold and the sting of salt and the prickling tension of the approaching storm. When I think about this story in a few weeks or months, it is bound to evoke the images of green and golden fields rolling past the car window.

But it’s not just the geography. There’s a tangible sense of space: just how far these places are, and at the same time, how terrifyingly close. Like you could drive for days, but it still takes only a few hours to return to London, the black hole you can’t get away from: the inescapable quagmire of routine, expectations, obligations, the stubborn conviction that things can’t change and really shouldn’t, that you don’t have the right to wish for more.

Even more tangible is the sense of time. Hours, days, weeks and months, crisply distinct and in sharp contrast with moments: fleeting, irreplaceable, inimitable moments. It is in moments that the story advances, though they are as feather-light and as far apart in the text as they are in life. The story never lingers on them: instead it lingers on those hours, days, weeks and months. It is very slow, yet it ends all too quickly.

Like youth! Like life.

The car trips perfectly embody the recurrent, omnipresent theme of going in circles. Harry and Draco can go anywhere, but they always come back to where they started, to how things were, to “real life”, with the feeling that everything they experienced together amounts to no more than a capricious dream. And the more intense and intimate those experiences become, the more painful it is to return, and the less possible it seems to believe that anything can change. The tension between dream and reality, wish and ability, grows into a pulsing pain as the story nears the end, and hope struggles against inevitability.

Obviously, it’s a love story. The romance is tied to the passage of time and it unfolds so gently, almost imperceptibly, that it is no challenge whatsoever to relate to Harry when he wonders when, exactly, he has fallen in love with Draco. Part of my sense of bereavement comes from the fact that, being deeply rooted in Harry’s point of view, the story doesn’t, and perhaps cannot show when exactly Draco fell in love with Harry. Could more have been done to illustrate this for the reader, without spelling it out for Harry? I don’t know. This story, like many of the fandom classics, seems far above my paygrade as an author. But as a reader, I was left with a deep and bittersweet longing, despite the happy ending.

In some ways, this fabulous, unforgettable story feels closer to canon than to fanfiction—and I don’t mean the Harry Potter canon, but every canon; canon as the material of fanfiction, as that which fanfiction seeks to transform—in that it stops just shy of providing complete closure, of giving the reader (or at least, this reader) what they crave. While frustrated, I do understand the author’s decision to stop where they did, because there’s no story past that point, no tension or conflict left to resolve, and portraying the progression of physical intimacy might’ve been seen as voyeuristic. Yet the frustration remains, and it stems from a sense of unfairness: we were invited to share the loneliness and longing, the glimmers of hope and the repeated, self-inflicted, staunching of it—but not the joy and the pleasure of the well-earned resolution.

Perhaps I should read the sequel, heh.

*Goes and reads the sequel.*

And now I’m in tears. Okay. Closure—check.

*I learned after writing this that the author had never visited any of the places in the story but did a whole lot of research, and frankly, that makes the whole thing all the more impressive.

*Banner is a crop of the fanart I made a while back.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: My sweet pathetic man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re silent as you walk next to Cole. He’s so much taller than you. The sun beats down and adds to the heat beneath your flesh. You fold your hands together as your eyes scan the fields and pollen tickles your nostrils. 

“So... you have a good week?” He asks, his voice crisp yet brittle. 

You nod, “mhm.” 

“Everything okay now?” 

“Uh...” you blink and shake your head. “I guess.” 

“Just that last time, you sort of... ran away from me. So if I did anything, I’d like to know so I can apologise,” he explains. 

“Oh no, you didn’t... do anything. It’s just me.”  

Another lull rises around you. You twine your fingers together and wring your hands until your knuckles hurt. He steps ahead of you as you approach the greenhouse. 

“It’s hot inside so if you need a break,” he says. “Let me know.” 

You nod and go through first as he waits. He follows and you look around at the tables full of long planters. Some are just sprouting, others are about to bloom, while others are overgrown. He points you along a row and you gratefully latch onto the distraction of the flowers. 

“You know, I was really looking forward to this,” he says. You glance at him in surprise. He grins and his blue eyes meet yours. “Really. I’m not just saying that. I don’t meet a lot of people very interested in all this. Or who know so much.” He turns and puts his hand on the table, “Maybe I forgot to say but your garden is beautiful. I can see all the care you put into it.” 

You look back to the pansies, “it’s Aunt Bev’s.” 

“Yeah, but she said you do all the work.” 

“She’s nice that way,” you shrug. 

“You’re too humble.”  

You shake your head and look closer at the petals. 

“You can touch. It won’t hurt them.” He says. 

“Oh, no, it’s...” you sniff. “Smells nice in here.” 

“Yeah,” he wipes his forehead, “but hot as hell.” 

“Ha, yeah,” you tug at the collar of your shirt. “A little.” 

“Well, you can look around as much as you like. And after, I’ll show you the loft.” 

You keep your eyes on the table, “the loft?” 

“Yeah, sure, it’s neat. You’ll like it,” he says. 

You continue to wander down as you admire all the different species and stems. Cole gives you your space. You’re thankful for that. Not just because it’s warm but because you’re not quite sure about all of this. He’s nice, his Aunt Jill too, but you’re just not used to all this. 

The longer you linger, the thicker the sheet of sweat that drenches your body. You feel it seeping into your clothing. You head back to the door and peer around. You don’t see him anywhere around.

Did he leave? Why would he do that? You don’t know where to go? You could get lost here! 

He pops up from behind a table, “oop, you all done?” He asks as he swipes back a shank of hair from his forehead. “I was just transferring some bulbs.” He bends and lifts a large planter up beside the others. The strength in that act further echoes your size difference once more. 

“Mhmm,” you confirm. “It must be a lot of work doing all this.” 

“I have help. Ma and Dad. They do what they can, you know? But I wish they wouldn’t. They deserve to enjoy their retirement.” He goes to the door and pushes it open. He holds it for you again. Outside, a breeze cools you. 

“Right,” you agree. 

“You know, if you got the time...” he begins then waves away his words. “Nah, you know what? I was just thinking out loud. Never mind.” 

“Wh-what?” You ask nervously. 

“Really, it’s nothing. I don’t wanna be too much. You know,” he hooks his fingers in his pockets and pushes his shoulders up. “I’ve been told I can be.” 

“Ah, er, right. Well... okay.” 

“Look, I should just ask,” he points you along, past the greenhouse. “I could use some help so you could maybe stop by and—I'd pay you. Obviously. It’s work. Is it like rude to offer you a job?” 

You stare at him. It’s unexpected but not really rude. It does make you feel lesser. You know it’s not his intent but you can put the puzzle together. He knows you don’t work, that Bev takes care of you, and a few extra bucks would be a help. Plus, it will get you out of the house. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he agrees eagerly. “Take as long as you like.” 

“Erm, thanks. It’s nice of you to... ask.”  

The wind rustles the green grass as you sink back into nervous tension. He guides you along to a barn and you near curiously. He steps ahead of you and slides open the large door. He turns back and smiles at you. 

“Come on,” he beckons you with his hand. As he enters, he shrugs out of his denim jacket. He hangs it on a peg. “How about you? You wanna put your sweater up?” 

“Oh, I guess,” you look down at the crochet; it’s itchy from the heat. You slip it off and hand it over. His fingers brush yours as he takes it and hangs it over his jacket. 

“Just up there,” he points to the ladder. 

“Oh? Okay,” you eye the rungs and rub your palms together. 

“Need any help?”  

“Um, no, I can...” your voice trails off and you reach for the ladder. 

You climb and your uncertainty ascends with you. What are you doing here? You’re suddenly afraid at the realisation that you’re all alone. That you don’t know how you could get out if you need to or if anyone would hear you cry out. 

No, this is Cole. You don’t have any reason to expect that. Aunt Bev says things are different now. Not all people are bad. Not like your mom. 

Cole follows you up. You stand and look around the loft. You see the dim shapes of furniture set across the wooden slats. 

He shuffles by you and opens the window, pushing the doors outward. The sunlight streams in and limns the space. There’s a day bed on a worn rug right in the center, a table to one wall with chair, a basket of apples on top, and a shelf of books.  

“Sometimes I just need a space of my own,” Cole says. “I thought, I don’t know, you might like it. You seem like the type to appreciate solace... you’re so quiet.” 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“For what?” He blinks at you. His eyes catch the sun with a twinkle. His hair curls with the humid sheen on his skin.  

“For... being quiet.” 

“I don’t mind. I’m sorry for talking so much,” he grins. 

You nod and bite your lip. You look around and pace along the floor, each step creaking. You go to the shelf and browse the book spines. 

“Do you read a lot?” He asks. 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “More now...” More now that you don’t have to hide your books. 

“You got a favourite?” He comes up next to you. Close. Too close. You don’t want to embarrass him by stepping away. 

“I don’t know. I read... I read Murder on the Orient Express. It was interesting.” 

“Wow, that’s a good one,” he praises. “I’m kinda into anything. Don’t get much time to read but I take my moments.” 

“Mmm, yeah.” 

Again, silence. You look down. You don’t know what to do or say. You feel like you have to explain yourself. You’re making him uncomfortable. Your mother always told you how weird you are. 

“I--” 

“You--” 

You both try to speak at the same time. He gestures with his hand, “you first.” 

“I...” you breathe. “I only really hang out with my aunt so... so... so...” you start to panic. You’ve already said too much. 

“Hey, it’s fine. I spend all my time with plants and at the market. By the time I’m done selling, I’m too exhausted for friends,” he says. “So, no pressure. You never have to talk for no reason. It’s always quiet out here. It’s nice.” He stares at you a moment before he looks back at the shelf, “I’d say it suits you.” 

You exhale. You feel a little better but still on edge. You teeter on your feet. 

“Can we go back inside? I don’t want Aunt Bev to worry.” You utter. 

“Sure, of course,” he answers, “you’re gonna think about it? Working with me?” 

“Yeah, I’ll think.” You agree. 

He moves first. He goes the ladder and turns. He starts down as you approach. You follow as his boots hit the ground. You descend, rung by rung, but you can’t find the next as you get halfway. You slip and gasp, Cole echoing you. 

He catches you as you fall and flail. You let out a squeak as he holds you in his arms, hiking you up so you don’t drop. Your shoulder is crushed to his chest. He’s touching you. Your hair feels like it’s going to fall out of your head. 

“Um, sorry!” You squeak. 

“Don’t be. That was close,” he sounds breathless himself. “I’m just happy I caught you. You okay?” 

“Y-yeah...” you stutter. 

He stares at you and you gulp. You stare at the collar of his shirt. His throat bobs and you squirm. 

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles and sets you on your feet. “There ya go.” 

“Thanks,” you cling to his arm as you steady yourself. You let go and fold your arm against your chest, hugging it with your other. 

“Come on,” he says and puts his hand behind you, not touching you.  

You emerge from the barn back into the yellow daylight. There’s a steady hum of insects and the soft flow of wind. You follow the beaten path back to the house. He lets you up the steps first and you go inside. He’s right behind you as you enter. 

“Sweetie,” you aunt surprises you as she appears in the archway to your left. “There you are! Did you see all the pretty flowers?” 

“Mhmm,” you nod and give a tight-lipped smile. 

“Everything alright? You look flustered?” Jill nears from behind her. 

You keep nodding. Cole laughs softly, “she had a bit of a slip but she’s okay. Maybe a bit of the heat getting to her too.” 

“Oh yes, it’s so hot today,” Jill agrees, “honey, how about something to drink? Maybe one of those delicious muffins you made?” 

She comes to you and squeezes your arm. You flinch and pull away. You’re still tense from falling. Right into Cole’s arm. You swear you can smell him.  

“Mom,” he warns. 

She looks down at her hand and retracts it, “sweetie, I’m so sorry. I forget. I can be so touchy-feely.” She shows her palms. “I’m surprised Cole’s keeping his hands to himself. He’s the worst for it, you know?” 

“Ma,” he coughs again. 

“Oh, that sounds worse than it is,” she cackles. “No, what I mean is he’s just a hugger, you know? He’s always been one. And he does give the best hugs.” 

“Ma,” he says a third time. 

“Right, right,” she huffs, “so, how about some iced tea?” 

You look at her, then Aunt Bev. You’d hate to be rude and you are a bit thirsty. Especially after being out in the dry heat. 

“Yes, please, thank you,” you say. 

“Not at all, sweetie,” she smiles, “Cole, would you like some?” 

“Sure, ma,” he says, “thanks.” 

Jill preens and struts away. Aunt Bev comes closer, “I am so happy you two are getting along. Oh, Cole, thank you for showing her around.” 

“Not at all. You know, I don’t get to show off very often.” 

“Really? But this place is so pretty. Isn’t it, dear?” She asks. 

You blanch then nod vehemently. You just want to fade into the background. You’d hope with your aunt and Jill, it’d be easier to do that. 

“Oh, and your muffins are fabulous. You really should have one,” she insists. 

You try to smile but your cheeks pinch tightly. 

“You know, I might just do that,” Cole intones. “Can I get you one?” 

You shake your head. He lingers, waiting for an answer. You choke out your voice at last, “no, thanks.” 

“Right,” he accepts and turns away. 

You peek over at Aunt Bev as she smiles after him. She likes him. If she likes him, he can’t be very bad. She’s not always so happy either. Especially since you came around. More often, she’s worried. You don’t want to always be a problem for her. 

“Um, Aunt Beverly,” you say, “I... Cole said I could come help out. He’ll pay me.” 

Her brows rise and she turns to you, “oh, really? And you want to?” 

You stare at her. You don’t know that you want to but you know you should. 

“I’ll do it,” you say at last. “I like the flowers.”