#lost in space S3

[airbender-dacyon]

Spoilers for Ben's GF's name below, in case you're trying to avoid that.

Crediting @p0m0u since that's where I saw it first in this post. Thanks Laura!

Ben's girlfriend is named Gia apparently, so... ship name?

After we talked about it, since Bengia sounds a bit too similar to another ship in the fandom, what does everyone think of Giaben?

[girlsinthestars]

I'm really fixated on what Mari said to Ben ('I think... Maybe there are two versions of reality. And most of the time the other one - the bad one - is just hiding or waiting. But it's all real.') cos I think that's gonna turn out to be a really fundamental premise of the show, Tai and other Tai who Tai only sees for herself in mirrors; the two timelines in different times but running parallel for all intents and purposes; their experiences of space inbetween life and death as being a point of contact with 'It'; the split between who they were in the wilderness and who they are at home (a line that is quickly blurring); probably more I can't think of off the top of my head, but I think in the adult timeline they're slipping into the 'bad' reality and I think the trigger was Travis trying to make contact with the wilderness again.

In particular 'but it's all real.' sticks out to me cos we're getting more and more shared hallucinations and visions and I think that's the show flagging: it's all real the 'bad' reality is really taking hold, and it calls back to Lottie's conversation with her therapist, that she's afraid that she was never crazy, that it was all real, it is all real. They've all had glimpses of this other reality before (tai when her grandmother died, Mari's story, Nat when her father died, etc.) and when they crashed they slipped into it completely.

[x-files-polls]

Blaine Faulkner: “I hate this town. I hate... people. I just want to be taken away to someplace where I... I don't have to worry about finding a job.” mood

Reggie Murgatroyd: He's just so funny, and for all his goofiness he's still mysterious. Is he telling the truth? Is he crazy? How does Skinner know him?

Nurse Owens: Scully’s guardian angel <3

Don't like this propaganda? Reblog it with your own or send some in my askbox

To jog your memory, here are the episodes they're from:

"Jose Chung's From Outer Space": When a couple claims to have been abducted by aliens, Agents Mulder and Scully try to get at the truth but everyone has a different version of the story, including the "aliens" themselves.

The Lost Art of Forehead Sweat: Reginald Murgatroid covertly meets with Mulder and Scully to discuss the Mandela Effect, their perceived reality, and the origins of The X-Files, including his being part of their team.

One Breath: When Scully mysteriously re-appears comatose in a hospital, Mulder fixates himself on finding the people responsible, though his quest for vengeance could make him exactly like those he despises.

[comradecowplant]

"You deserve everything that's coming to you" Mari with the apt one-liners as always

[timeforsomethrillingheroicsblog]

alright where the desmond girlies at

[jackwhiteprophetic]

I love how it is established that Buck is always welcome at the Diaz house. In season 6, when he turned up, Eddie was barely surprised, and Buck didn't seem nervous or unsure about whether he was overstepping boundaries. In season 7, he turns up at night through the back door and Eddie's only confusion is that he didn't use the front. And in S2 (I think, but maybe S3) when Buck says "it's Eddie's house, I'm not really a guest" to Maddie when we've literally never seen him in the Diaz house before??

I am obsessed with how Buck, a character established to have been almost lost, looking for a home and a loving family and feeling like he was talking up too much space in his own childhood home, is shown to be so comfortable at Eddie's, and that Eddie, someone who does not trust people easily, especially with Chris, has clearly put the work in to make sure that Buck has no doubts about his place in their home.

Also canonically they both have keys right? (Eddie waking Buck up so he can take Chris to that tsunami, Buck getting into Eddie's house when he had the breakdown and finding Chris in the hallway (Chris didn't let him in...)) I mean idk if it's different in the USA/LA, but generally people lock their doors right?

[mosovi-vian]

And I will stay alive for my future self, so they can one day learn to be kind to who I was as a child. And I will teach them to honor who we used to be, so they can remember the comfort of what once was our untempered flesh and gentle soul. Me and myself are each a fresh wound and a rough scab, bearing respectively the gift of green faith and honed will.

This has been in my draft for a while because I was determined to post this only after I knew what I should write underneath it. I’ve read a lot on the concept of healing the wounded inner child since even before my c-ptsd diagnosis. However, I’ve sought as much comfort in my little self as they had in me. Looking back, I was an impressively emotionally-intuitive kid. I remember well how I used to think, the things I would write to my future self; they were wiser and gentler than I could ever hope to be as an adult. Needless to say, the little poem above is inspired by the aforementioned experience. Sure, big me is armed with a more developed pre-frontal cortex and access to invaluable resources (coping mechanisms, therapy, on and offline communities) , but I struggle to rediscover/reinvent my identity. Little me was the biggest vestige of my lost personhood. So yeah, this might be just a huge self-indulgent projection with my favorite character, but thinking that post-S3 Hunter would also be in my shoes is not completely baseless. 16yrs old Hunter is the fresh wound (a lot of things happened before his teen years, but I’m going to interpret the events of Hollow Mind - which happened when Hunter was 16 - as the ultimate boiling point in his trauma timeline, hence the ‘fresh wound') and 20yrs old Hunter is the rough scab. Each version of Hunter could be dealing with a different set of trauma-induced symptoms. I think his loyalty to Belos kept him going as a child. Being doubtless was important to Hunter back then; it held his sense of self together. And maybe when he survived and was rewarded the time and space to grow into his own person and live for himself, there was this lasting emptiness. I feel this sort of emptiness even today. My only reference of what ‘wholeness’ felt like was when I was obedient to my family. I equated self-abandonment as the righteous norm. The symptoms I deal with today are definitely different from when I was Hunter’s age pre-time-skip. Now that Hunter is in a safe space and an adult post-time skip, he might also need to seek that strength from his younger self. Reminding himself of how far he’s come and the parts of him that he'd like to keep from his past. The parts that he knows in his bones are purely his - not instilled by Belos, not inherited from Caleb.

[gf2bellamy]

hii!! i hope you’re well, i read some of your fics and just wanted to say you’re so talented and i really enjoyed reading them :) i also saw your requests are open and i actually have one if that’s okay?

could you maybe write a fic for isaac lahey where he and reader aren’t together but for a while they’ve had feelings for each other (both are too shy/awkward to admit it + reader is maybe scott’s sister). reader and isaac somehow get stuck in an enclosed space and reader has to calm isaac down after he has a panic attack and almost attacks reader. after she helps calm him maybe they confess to each other and it ends with something wholesome? idk it’s up to you!

im soo sorry if this is too long lol and feel free to ignore this request if you’d like <33 thank youu :)

stuck — isaac lahey

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: isaac's dad , panic attack , isaac attacking reader , a/n: thank you so much for your request !! i felt so bad for him during this scene in s3 :( hope you enjoy this ( and i hope it's not too long ) <3

You were doodling absentmindedly in your notebook, your pen scratching lazy patterns across the page.

You shouldn’t have been doodling—especially not considering the reason you were sitting in detention in the first place. 

Mr. Harris had been very clear during chemistry class: “Stop defacing your notes with meaningless scribbles, or you’ll be spending your afternoon in this very room.”

And yet, here you were, stuck in detention because you’d gotten lost in your little drawings instead of paying attention to the lesson. 

To be fair, you were pretty sure Mr. Harris had it out for you anyway. He’d been holding a grudge ever since Scott had terrorized his class last year.

Your brother had an uncanny ability to escape the consequences of his actions, which unfortunately left you to deal with the fallout. 

You glanced up from your notebook and shifted in your seat, letting your eyes wander over the room.

It wasn’t exactly bustling with activity—there were only a few other students scattered throughout. One of them caught your attention immediately. 

Isaac Lahey. 

He was sitting a couple of seats in front of you and to the left, his curly blonde-brown hair slightly messy as though he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

He stared down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, looking like he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. 

A small smile tugged at your lips.You lowered your gaze back to your notebook, trying to refocus on your doodles, but you couldn’t help yourself. Every so often, you glanced up, sneaking another look at him. 

What you didn’t know was that Isaac had been doing the same thing. 

From the corner of his eye, he kept catching glimpses of you. The way your brow furrowed slightly as you concentrated on your sketches.

The little smile that appeared when you were amused by something you’d drawn. Even the way you absentmindedly twirled your pen between your fingers was... distracting. 

Suddenly your name was called.

Mr. Harris’s voice cut through the silence, making you jolt upright in your seat. Your pen froze mid-doodle, and you instinctively flipped the page of your notebook to hide your sketches. 

“Yes?” you asked cautiously, meeting his gaze. 

“Go to the library and fetch the chemistry textbooks for the next class,” he said, his tone curt and impatient. 

You blinked, relief washing over you as you realized you’d just been handed a golden ticket out of this stuffy detention room. The idea of not having to sit here for another hour doodling under Mr. Harris’s scrutinizing stare sounded like heaven. Plus, you were pretty familiar with the chemistry section of the library. It was tucked away in a secluded little corner, practically hidden inside a small room at the back—a quiet sanctuary. 

“Sure,” you said quickly, already pushing your chair back. 

But just as you stood, Mr. Harris started listing the books he wanted you to retrieve. You stopped mid-step, growing more and more horrified with each title he rattled off. By the time he finished, it sounded less like a list of books and more like a complete inventory of the chemistry section itself. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “How am I supposed to carry all of those?” 

Mr. Harris raised an unimpressed eyebrow, as if he found your question completely irrelevant. He stared you down for a long moment, and you weren’t sure if he was about to start yelling or simply assign you an extra hour of detention for questioning him. 

Finally, he glanced around the room, his gaze landing on someone behind you. 

“Lahey,” he barked, his voice sharp. “Go help her.” 

You turned your head, just in time to catch Isaac blinking in surprise. He looked as if he’d just woken up from a daze, his blue eyes wide as he processed what Mr. Harris had just said. 

“Uh... sure,” Isaac muttered, standing up. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused by the turn of events.

On one hand, the idea of spending time with Isaac Lahey—someone who had a habit of making you feel inexplicably flustered—was nerve-wracking.

On the other hand, there was no way you could have carried all those books by yourself, so maybe this wasn’t the worst outcome. 

Isaac slowly walked over to where you were standing, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

You exchanged a quick look with Isaac before heading for the door. He followed close behind, the heels of his sneakers making soft noises against the tiled floor. 

The two of you walked in silence for a few moments, the quiet only broken by the faint echo of voices from other classrooms.

You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was tall and his curly blonde-brown hair looked almost golden under the fluorescent hallway lights. 

As you stepped into the library, a shiver ran down your spine. You rubbed your arms, mumbling, “Geez, it’s freezing in here.” 

Isaac, who was just a step behind you, glanced around and replied casually, “They probably left the window open. It’s the wind.” 

Reaching the secluded room where the chemistry books were kept, you fished the key Mr. Harris had begrudgingly handed you out of your pocket. The lock clicked open with a small metallic sound, and you pushed the door wide. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” you began, stepping inside the small, dimly lit room with Isaac trailing close behind. “I don’t remember the names of half the books we’re supposed to get.” 

A soft chuckle escaped from him, low and warm, breaking the stillness. Your heart gave a little stutter at the sound, and you silently cursed yourself for how easily his laugh could affect you. 

What you didn’t notice, though, was Isaac pausing briefly as he stepped into the room, taking a deep, steadying breath. The walls felt like they were closing in already, the tightness of the space triggering a familiar sense of unease. But he wasn’t about to show that—not in front of you.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on you instead, the way your fingers skimmed the spines of the books, while concentrating on finding the needed books. It was enough to momentarily distract him from the panic threatening to claw its way up his chest. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” Isaac finally said, attempting a joke. His voice came out steady enough, laced with a light teasing edge as he scanned the shelves. 

You rolled your eyes, though the corners of your lips twitched upward. “Great. So, between the two of us, we’ll definitely manage to fail this task.” 

“Confidence is key,” he quipped, earning a small laugh from you that made his chest feel a little less tight. 

The two of you fell into a rhythm, moving to opposite sides of the cramped room as you worked. Your fingers brushed over the rough edges of old chemistry books, occasionally pulling one out to glance at the title before replacing it.

For you, the silence was pleasant. For Isaac, it was suffocating. 

His gaze kept flicking back to you, as though anchoring himself to the sight of you could keep the memories at bay. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to press in closer, threatening to drag him back to dark basements and locked doors, but every time his breathing quickened, he’d force his eyes back to you. 

You must’ve felt his gaze because you glanced over your shoulder, catching him mid-stare. “You okay over there?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” he said quickly, too quickly. He cleared his throat, pretending to focus on a random book in front of him. “Totally fine.” 

You squinted at him, not entirely convinced, but let it go. “If you say so.” 

As you turned back to the shelves, Isaac silently cursed himself. He needed to get it together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this—on the edge of unraveling over something as simple as a small room. 

The door behind you groaned faintly, drawing both your attention. A sudden thud echoed as the heavy wooden door swung shut, making you jump. 

“What on—” you started, spinning around to face it. 

Isaac froze, his pulse spiking as the sound reverberated through the room. His throat felt dry, and for a second, he couldn’t move. 

“Is it... locked?” you asked, stepping toward the door and jiggling the handle. It didn’t budge. 

Isaac’s jaw clenched as he stared at the door, his mind racing. He stepped forward grabbing the handle.

“It’s locked,” he confirmed, his voice tight. 

“Well, that’s just perfect,” you muttered, turning to face him. “Guess we’re stuck until someone finds us.” 

Isaac didn’t respond, his hands flexing at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing. 

You frowned, stepping closer to him. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. 

“Isaac,” you said softly, tilting your head as you studied him. 

Isaac’s hands were on the door handle, pushing and pulling with increasing desperation. The sound of the metal creaking under his grip filled the small room, making your chest tighten. 

“Isaac,” you repeated, your voice steady but edged with concern. He didn’t seem to hear you, his breaths growing harsher, each exhale shaky and uneven. 

You took a step closer, trying to figure out how to snap him out of whatever was happening. That’s when you noticed it—his eyes. The faint, eerie glow of gold that had replaced his usual blue. 

Oh no. 

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice softer now, but still firm. He kept wrestling with the door, his claws just starting to extend. You felt your heart start to race. 

He was slipping. 

Tentatively, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. “Isaac, it’s okay—” 

Before you could finish, his head snapped toward you, his glowing eyes locking onto yours. He moved faster than you could react, grabbing your wrist. You gasped, pain flaring as his claws pressed against your skin. 

“Isaac, stop!” you murmured, trying to keep your voice calm even as his hold tightened. He wasn’t himself—not entirely—and you needed to tread carefully. 

But he wasn’t letting go. He stepped forward, forcing you backward until your back hit the shelves with a dull thud. The books rattled from the impact, and you felt your heart lurch. 

“Isaac,” you tried again, louder this time, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. His fangs were visible now, and his expression was feral—more animal than human. 

You swallowed hard, panic bubbling up, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Isaac, it’s me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

For a moment, it felt like he didn’t even recognize you. His grip on your wrist was unrelenting, and you could feel your pulse pounding against his claws. 

“Isaac, listen to me!” you said, your voice stronger this time. “You’re not in danger. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

His eyes flickered, the golden hue dimming slightly before brightening again. You could see the battle playing out in his head—his human side wrestling with the wolf. 

“You’re hurting me,” you said, your voice strained but steady. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out, the sharp sting in your wrist growing harder to ignore. 

Isaac’s glowing yellow eyes bore into yours, unrecognizing, primal. You tugged lightly, trying to free your hand from his grip, but his hold was unrelenting.

Your lip trembled under your teeth, and you bit down harder, trying to focus on anything other than the ache radiating from his claws. 

“Isaac,” you said again, your voice breaking slightly. “Please, you’re hurting me.” 

The words seemed to hang in the air, cutting through the haze in his mind. His glowing eyes faltered, flickering between gold and blue as realization began to creep in. 

His grip loosened—first slightly, then completely—as if he’d been burned. His claws retracted instantly, and he stumbled back, his expression shifting from feral to horrified in a heartbeat. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “I—I’m so sorry.” 

You instinctively cradled your wrist, wincing at the dull ache left behind, but your focus stayed on him. His face was pale, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He looked down at his hands as though they weren’t his own, flexing his fingers in disbelief. 

“I didn’t mean—” His voice cracked as he stepped back again, putting more distance between the two of you. “I didn’t want to—” 

Isaac sat down on the floor, his back against the cold bookshelf, his head buried in his hands as he tried to steady his breathing. His chest heaved, and his fingers gripped at his hair like it was the only thing holding him together.

You winced slightly, feeling the remnants of pain in your wrist, but you pushed it aside, focusing on him.

He was far more important right now. 

You slowly took a step forward, feeling the pull in your chest to comfort him, to reassure him that it was going to be okay. Without thinking too much about it, you lowered yourself down beside him, sitting carefully on the floor.

Isaac’s eyes slowly met yours, his face pale and his expression still full of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice rough.

His gaze dropped to your wrist, where his marks still lingered, faint red lines, like a reminder of what had just happened. “I hurt you...” 

His words trailed off. His breath hitched, and you could see how deeply he regretted it. The self-blame was eating at him, his shoulders slumping even more as he shook his head. “I’m so sorry...” 

You carefully leaned forward. “Isaac…” you started softly, your voice gentle, steady. “I’m okay.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with doubt. "Are you?" he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. He was so torn, and the weight of his concern for you was written across his face. 

You scooted a little closer, now sitting in front of him but close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice firm, even though you could still feel the tremor in your own chest.

Isaac looked down at his hands, his fingers trembling slightly.You gently reached out, placing your hand on his arm, hoping the contact would ground him.

He didn’t pull away this time. 

He looked up at you then, eyes softening as they met yours.

“I don’t know what happened,” he confessed quietly, his voice a little broken. “I—I lost control, and I thought—God, I thought I was going to hurt you. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“I know you didn’t,” you whispered. You couldn’t help but reach out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re not that person, Isaac. I know that.” 

He stared at you for a moment, his expression slowly shifting, as if something inside him was beginning to break free. The tension in his shoulders relaxed, just a little, and the intensity in his eyes softened. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he murmured, his voice a little shakier now. “Especially you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

The silence that fell between you two was no longer uncomfortable but filled with unspoken understanding.

It wasn’t until Isaac cleared his throat that the moment seemed to shift, something in his demeanor changing. “You know… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes never left yours. 

You looked at him, your heart starting to race.

“What is it?” you asked, voice soft. 

Isaac seemed to take a deep breath before he spoke again. “I... I like you. I don’t just mean as a friend, or... whatever this is. I—” He broke off, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I never said anything because I didn’t know how to—” 

He stopped himself, his words fumbling as he tried to figure out how to make sense of what he was saying.

“I like you too,” you said before he could finish, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. 

Isaac’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked almost unsure if he had heard you right. Then, a soft smile crept onto his face, and your heart skipped a beat. It was shy, hesitant, but real. 

“I really like you,” you repeated, this time with a little more confidence, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. 

Isaac’s eyes softened as he processed your confession. The tension in his face slowly faded, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, you thought it might be the first real, carefree smile you had seen from him in a long time.  

You smiled back, your breath finally slowing as the weight on your chest lifted.

After a few moments of silence, you shifted, moving closer to him without really thinking.

Without saying a word, you gently rested your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but the way Isaac’s body stiffened at first, as if unsure of what to do, made you smile softly.

But then, he relaxed. His breath seemed to steady, and you felt his shoulder shift slightly as he adjusted to the new closeness. 

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you stay there, his warmth spreading through you like a quiet reassurance.

His hand, which had been fidgeting nervously in his lap, slowly moved towards yours. It hovered for a second, unsure, before his fingers gently brushed against yours.

You smiled to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly, the action as comforting for you as it seemed to be for him. 

Isaac shifted just a little, turning slightly toward you, his head leaning ever so slightly closer to yours. You could feel his breath on your hair, soft and steady. I

"I'm glad you're here," Isaac murmured softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

You smiled, your eyes fluttering closed as the weight of the day, the tension, and the worries drifted away. "Me too." 

And for a while, you just stayed there, sitting in the dim light of the small room, head resting on his shoulder, hands intertwined, finding comfort in each other’s touch.

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s3 p6

as you realized, this season really focuses on ni-ki and readers (your) imprint

im trying my best to get this more interesting bare with me please

“how is she?” chan asked sunghoon and ni-ki a few days later in his office.

ni-ki frowned. “not good. her emotions are all over the place. the nightmares are worse. she’s been recluse, staying in her library.”

the boys vowed to never enter your library, your safe space, unless they were invited in. and they’ve kept that promise.

“any more changes pregnancy wise?” chan asked carefully.

sunghoon’s ears went red. “uh, well, she’s been more active, in the bed,” he stumbled, “but then she gets angry at herself and us.”

“she’s found a new spot to hang out too, outside. it’s a small creek behind the house.”

“in the woods!” sunghoon exclaimed. “how long? why didn’t we know this?” sunghoon turned to ni-ki.

ni-ki rolled his eyes. “i have been babysitting her don’t worry. i know she knows i’ve been following her, but she doesn’t say anything.” ni-ki furrowed his brows. “usually she would be quick to tell me to get lost and mind my own.”

“where in the woods, exactly?” chan asked as he stood up. “do you know why she goes there all of a sudden?”

ni-ki shrugged. “i give her enough space that i’m not watching, but she has a habit of talking to herself, a lot. maybe she’s just going to get a mind break in nature.”

chan shook his head. “my inner self is telling me something different.” with chans powers and knowledge, he’s learned to trust his gut instinct.

“should we be worried?” sunghoon raised firm his own seat.

ni-ki snickered. “she’s not a baby, she can handle herself. i swear since she’s gotten,” pregnant he wanted to say, but it felt like a bad word, “since she’s carrying another, she’s gotten fierce and scary.”

sunghoon and chan snorted. you couldn’t be that scary.

“how often does she go out there?”

“almost every night.” ni-ki answered.

“and we don’t hear her?” sunghoon gasped.

“yall sleep like the dead.” ni-ki replied. “it’s almost like clockwork. around 3 am.”

chan held up a finger, “one moment,” he said and picked up his cell to send a text.

in moments hyunjin walked in with a girl. he had a grip on her upper arm.

“let go of me you bald headed kiwi!” she exclaimed.

hyunjin pushed her towards chan where she stumbled forward. “you rang?” his eyebrow raised.

chan pointed to a chair, signaling the girl to sit. with a huff she wanted to argue but went to sit.

“your mate?” ni-ki asked with a smirk. chan smiled and nodded.

“hyunjin, i have a big favor to ask.” chan stated and gave him a quick summary of the earlier conversation.

“don’t worry, im on it.” hyunjin nodded.

“just stay hidden until it gets too much. we need to know exactly what’s going on.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

when ni-ki and sunghoon arrived back at the mansion, they agreed not to tell the others to avoid worry and them following you around. per chan, it needed to play out to feel for what’s really going on.

you were sitting quietly in between jay and heeseung. your hand on your still surprisingly small stomach. jake, jungwon, and sunoo were spread across the living room as you all watched a movie.

ni-ki observed you and noticed your blank stare. you weren’t even paying attention to the movie. your mind completely somewhere else.

he tried to tune into your feelings but he felt, nothing. almost like all your emotions had drained from your body.

your head slowly turned to his attention, creepily he must add, your eyes staring right at him. almost through him. you smiled and turned your head back, a frown quickly upon your lips.

none of the other guys seemed to notice your aura was different. something about you was off.

you on the other hand knew ni-ki could see something wasn’t right. one part of you screamed for help, but the other part didn’t.

you felt off, unlike your self. could it be the worry knowing this pregnancy might kill you?

“it’s getting late, you should get some rest.” jay said kissing the top of your head.

you pouted. “it’s barely even 10 pm?”

jay smiled softly. “you are caring for another now, love. you need rest and to level your feet.” this time jay kissed your cheek.

jake sat up and stretched. “are you going to sleep with one of us or hide away in your library again?”

jake was the most upset that you’ve chosen to isolate yourself. jay and sunghoon understood why you felt like you had to. they believed you probably felt you betrayed them even though what has happened was not your fault.

you yawned and stood up with a stretch of your own. “mhm, i’ll sleep with you jakey.”

a part of you was also happy the boys didn’t shy away from wanting to touch you. they didn’t see you as a disgusting piece of trash like you did yourself sometimes.

jake smiled widely, and walked up to you, sweeping you off your feet with ease. you giggled, hiding your face in his neck.

“goodnight brothers!” jake yelled from the top of the stairs.

jake placed you gently in bed, and you both started getting ready. you were hoping to sleep through the night tonight. lately you’ve been waking up exhausted, not knowing why. it always felt as if your body ran a mile when you woke up the next morning.

maybe it was the pregnancy? it was another reason you stayed hidden in your library. you were afraid of sleeping wild and constantly moving due to being uncomfortable.

sometimes you’d wake up smelling like outside or your shoes with mud in them by the door downstairs. your dreams were becoming too real for you.

you settled in next to jake letting sleep overtake your body.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

3:03 am

ni-ki held his breath as he followed behind you, few feet away to not alert you. you definitely were sleep walking to the extreme. hyunjin stayed hidden in the shadows, following you and ni-ki to the stream.

hyunjin sucked in a breath when he realized. realizing what was happening. and thankfully he came at the right time before this deal got done.

hyunjin didn’t need backup, he knew who he was dealing with. what he was dealing with.

you stood in the middle of the rocky sidewalk, the water could be heard from the small distance away, crickets in the distance.

the dark masked figure in front of you that you saw. masked as a child. ni-ki didn’t see anyone. hyunjin saw.

hyunjin came up behind ni-ki, startling him. “what’s going on?”

“i need to stop this, now.” hyunjin stated and walked out of the shadows towards the crossroad.

the gravel under his feet cracked, and the little ‘boy’ looked up. it smiled. “mommy, don’t let him hurt me.”

you turned to hyunjin, a blank face looking back at him. “mommy will protect you.” you stated, but before you could do anything, ni-ki ran to you, knocking the wind out of you, making sure you didn’t drop to the ground this time.

“you’ve got to stop tackling me to wake me up asshat!” you yelled.

“are you crazy?” ni-ki exclaimed.

“huh?” you asked confused. hyunjin stepped forward. “hyunjin? when did you get here? and when did you shave your head? aww you are no more luscious locks!”

“what’s going on?” ni-ki asked, his deep voice coming though in protection mode.

soon the figure, boy that you saw, no one ni-ki saw, and the man hyunjin saw became visible to all of you. a grown man, dark, black eyes.

“she was just about to make a deal with a demon.” hyunjin stated flatly.

“how—?” you didn’t even finish when you saw hyunjin’s eyes flash black.

“fuck you’re a demon too!” ni-ki said in disbelief to hyunjin. he was a vampire and demon?

the demon smirked. “how dare you interrupt my deal.”

“ni-ki, get her home, call chan and let him know what happened. now.” hyunjin ordered.

ni-ki quickly grabbed you before you could protest, and used his speed to get you both back to the house.

the demon and hyunjin stared off at each other. “i know who you are.” hyunjin said.

“good to know. but it’s time for me to go since you’ve ruined our plans.” he smiled and walked backwards and disappeared in the water.

hyunjin closed his eyes with a deep breath.

not only did you almost make a deal with a demon;

you almost made a deal with sunwoo’s brother.

©

next update — march 14

this was not proof read.

send your thoughts! send me questions and requests! like, share, reblog!

i still want to write about skz in this world / spin off

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

In the Light of Day

After years of buried feelings, you and Crosshair wake beside each other, the line between friendship and romance blurred. In the light of day, you both confront the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

Pairing: Post-Tantiss Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: softness, fluff, implied night together, very very minor spoiler from the leaked official S3 clip, character growth, Cross is trying to embrace feelings, a lil' saucy.

Translations: ner kar’ta - my heart

The palm leaves outside the open window dance with the first light of dawn, casting dappled shadows across the peaceful bedroom. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, remnants of a night intertwined in passion. As the soft, warm breeze wafts through the room, carrying the scent of the ocean and nearby blossoms, Crosshair lets out a soft sigh. Eyes flitting around the space, he takes in the golden glow from the rising sun - such a stark contrast to the months of dark coldness he’d once accepted as his fate.

Shifting a little among the rumpled bed sheets, his gaze lands on you, lost to sleep beside him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. Last night had been…unexpected. For years, you’d been the object of his deepest affections, a love he had buried deep within his heart, covering it up with wit and snark, fearing rejection or the potential loss of your friendship. Yet, here you were, nestled beside him in the soft embrace of dawn. Every stolen glance, every suppressed longing, had led to this, where the line between dreams and reality blurred into a blissful haze of possibility.

You’d been with him and his brothers since the start of the war, acting as a liaison between them and Command. You’d driven him insane at first – all smiles and laughter, always up in his space – but as the days had dragged into months and then into years, he’d found himself gravitating towards you. Your laughter had become his favourite sound. He'd worried when you weren’t in his line of sight. Somehow, you’d wormed past his walls and planted yourself there, occupying space he’d once reserved solely for his brothers.

But then everything had fallen apart, and for a year, he’d only caught snippets of you – while tracking you and his siblings across the galaxy, as Kamino burned and sank below the waves, and then when the torture on Tantiss had been overwhelming. His mind had needed something to hold on to. Shaking away the memories, Crosshair draws his right hand towards his chest, his left hand cradling the back of it to stop the irritating tremble that was now his norm. He turns his focus back to you.

You were so beautiful and had been even more radiant last night – the life and soul of the equinox celebration that had taken over Pabu. He’d been content to linger nearby for a while, keep an eye on you as you danced and chatted with the island residents, but the large crowd had quickly made him uncomfortable. He’d fallen back into form, taking refuge on a nearby rooftop.

He’d missed the sound of you clambering to his vantage point and flinched with surprise when you’d sat at his side. You’d reached for him, a soothing hand on his arm, and asked him to walk along the quiet shoreline with you. The pair of you had been halfway down the beach when your hand had slipped into his, and once you’d reached the docks at the far end of the sandy shore, you’d cautiously pushed up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The rest was a haze – how he’d tilted his head to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, the building anticipation on the route home, the slam of the bedroom door, clothes discarded, the scent of you and, finally, the soft curves of your body in his hands.

You embraced everything about him. From his prickly attitude during the war to the desolate version of himself he’d been after his rescue, to who he was now – slowly healing, working through things that plagued him, and rebuilding his bond with his siblings. Gratitude flows through him, and he reaches for you, slender fingers dragging along the fullness of your cheek, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the sight of you resting amongst the pillows.

A feather-light caress stirs you from your slumber, your eyes fluttering open, meeting the hawkish gaze of the man beside you. Warmth sweeps through you, soft feelings that had slowly taken root in your heart over the years, no longer able to hide in the darkness. A gentle smile spreads across your lips. “Good morning.” You whisper, not wanting to break the tranquility of the moment.

Crosshair returns your smile, his fingers still tracing the curves of your face with tender reverence. “Good morning.” He murmurs in reply, his voice a low slink that sends shivers down your spine.

As you hold each other’s gaze, the galaxy seems to pause, waiting with bated breath.

“Last night... it was...” Crosshair breaks the silence first, trailing off, unable to find the words to articulate the depth of what he’s feeling.

Reaching out, you gently trace your fingertips along his jawline. The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes is a new development he’s learning to accept and embrace. “I know.” You murmur, your voice soft but sure. You’d been worried about making a move, concerned he wasn’t ready for it yet, but the enthusiasm with which he’d reciprocated had eased your worries.

Try as he might to hide it, a mixture of relief and disbelief washes over him. “I never thought...” He starts, his voice trailing off once more. With a heavy exhale, Crosshair lets the weight of his emotions settle, still learning to sit with them. “I’m not good at this.” He admits with a scowl, frustrated that he’s floundering.

“And that’s okay.” You respond, your voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. Your fingers thread with his and come to rest on the pillow between you, a gesture of comfort and understanding. You take him in for a moment – still a little gaunt with dark circles under his eyes. Among the knotted scars on the side of his head is a new one, a thin straight line, the only evidence of his chip being pried out once he’d been rescued. It was unsurprising that the Empire had lied to him about removing it.

Crosshair’s shoulders relax slightly at your reassurance. You’d always been patient with him, even when he hadn’t deserved it. “I’ve never been one for relationships.” He confesses, his gaze fixed on yours. “But with you, it feels...different.”

Your heart swells at his admission, the sincerity in his words washing over you like a gentle tide. “I feel it, too.” You reply softly, drawing your intertwined hands up to kiss the back of his hand, ignoring how it trembles.

“What…do we do now?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper as his brows furrow once more, uncertainty marring his features.

You pause, considering his question carefully. “I think we have a choice.” You answer honestly. “We can either retreat back into the safety of what we know, or we can see where this takes us.” There’s no doubt in your mind which path you want to follow, but you don’t want to lead him. He needs to decide for himself. Too many decisions have been taken from him throughout his life.

Crosshair nods slowly as if mulling over your words. “And if it doesn’t work out?” He ventures.

“We talk about it.” You assure him, sincerity ringing in your voice. “We work through it together. Just like everything else.”

A comfortable silence settles between you as Crosshair weighs up the options, and you take the opportunity to soak up the feeling of being in bed together, just in case this is the only time you can experience it.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost miss the subtle shift in Crosshair’s expression - a flicker of determination, a silent resolve. “I want to try.” He says suddenly, his voice low but firm. “I want to see where this goes with you.”

His words hang in the air, and, for a moment, you’re speechless. It’s a leap of faith, a step into the unknown, but as you meet his gaze, you know he means it. A smile tugs at your lips. “I want that too.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Relief passes over Crosshair’s eyes as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss - as easy as breathing.

You return it without hesitation, letting go of his hand so you can cup his face and anchor yourself in this moment.

Crosshair deepens the kiss, his hand reaching your hip, pulling you closer as if afraid to let go. When you finally break apart, a soft smile lingers on both of your lips.

“C’mon, let’s get some breakfast.” You insist, still adamant about helping him regain a few more pounds. Pressing one more kiss to his lips, you pull back and sit up, the sheets slipping down your body.

Crosshair’s gaze snaps to your naked frame, sharp eyes roaming over every curve as his smile switches into a smirk you’re all too familiar with. “You on the menu again, ner kar’ta?” He teases, voice raspy with desire.

Your pillow connects with his chest before he can stop it, earning a deep chuckle from him. “Behave.” You chide playfully, though the warmth in your eyes betrays the affection behind your words, and you can’t deny how your heart races at the new pet name. As you slip out of bed, you pull on his discarded shirt. “But you might want to save room for dessert...”

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411 @issa-me-bry-blog @leftealeaf @isaidonyourknees

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[markantonys]

My Mom Reacts To: wheel of time season 3 episodes 1-4 (no book spoilers)

season 1 (book spoilers)

season 2 episodes 1-4 (no book spoilers)

season 2 episodes 5-8 (book spoilers)

she found her handwritten list of characters from when we watched s2 back in 2023, i couldn't believe it haha below is her summary of some of the gang as she was trying to jog her memory

lan: the one i really love mat: the one who got recast perrin: the big guy nynaeve: the healer rand and egwene: the ones who should be a couple but probably won't be

(i don't know if she meant that *she thinks* they should be a couple, as her personal opinion, or if she was just describing the general narrative framing of them as "should be together but won't be". we'll see what, if any, reaction she has to all the mess between them this season!)

ahead of s2, we rewatched all of s1 to prepare, but this time, we just watched the 20-minute recap of the first 2 seasons by unraveling the pattern. i get the sense that my mom is more lost and struggling during s3 than she has been in prior seasons, probably due to a combination of not doing a full rewatch first and to s3 just being so much more packed with Stuff than the first 2 seasons. but she knows all the main characters well and cares about them, it's mostly other stuff like plot and terminology that's hard to keep track of! and she did seem to settle in more once the hectic first episode was done and once she could focus more on the new storylines that are happening right now instead of trying to remember setup from previous seasons.

beginning of the recap: it's easy to get lost with all the different characters and terminology my mom: that's for sure!

during the recap my dad asked "is the dragon good or bad?" and i was like "that's kinda the big question of the whole series" haha

onto the episodes!

3x01

mom: didn't moiraine get banished from this city? me: yes, that's why she's hiding mom: she's not doing a very good job

me to my dad (who used to work in local government) at the beginning of the meeting of the hall: it's like town meeting dad later during all the shredding: town meeting never got QUITE this violent

mom: how did they not know there were this many bad guys lurking inside the tower? me: that's exactly what siuan is wondering too

my dad at some point during the street fighting: they need that guy who thinks he's a wolf to come and help

could perrin emerge as a fav for my dad if he was his first thought for somebody who would be useful in a situation? watch this space

mom after liandrin gets healed from double-stab out in the streets: ugh, she's unkillable!

huge gasp when ihvon died

mom when lan went to find nynaeve amid the rubble: oh yeah, they're in love right? [i will say, the recap was highly plot- and lore-focused and left out quite a lot of important info regarding interpersonal relationships!]

rand's line about "you know what prophecies are like, nothing's clear" got a chuckle

loial's line about leaving at dawn got a big chuckle!

mom: [smiling] he's one of my favorite characters me internally:😬

the girls' gossip session was instance #1 of my mom going "who's that???" about elayne because she "looks different" this season and she didn't recognize her (i suspect it's the hair throwing her off, in this scene especially it looks REALLY blonde and pale)

she definitely had some grumbling about it being stupid of the boys to go around town while so many bad guys are looking for them, though i forget exactly what it was

then later on she said "considering how many people are after them, they keep engaging in some pretty risky behaviors" (but this comment was just when mat was going to get himself a midnight drink at the inn, let him live, mom!)

mom: does rand know selene is evil? me [seeing my opportunity to get her sympathetic to rand's perspective early]: he knows she's lanfear, but she's been manipulating him hardcore, so he still thinks maybe he can fix her and help her be good again

i think it was during siuan's convo with egwene and nynaeve about being prepared to stop the dragon that my mom quietly said "...........is rand the dragon?" evidence of how overwhelmed this poor woman is with everything going on this season haha she's questioning everything she thinks she knows!

elayne delivering letters out on the street was instance #2 of going "who's that????" about her

no comments at all on any of the rand-avi, avi-elayne, or rand-elayne interactions this episode. i don't think she's particularly invested in either elayne or avi at this stage since they're newer characters compared to the OG crew, but we'll see!

moiraine: where do you really want to go? rand: where do i REALLY want to go? home mom: i was going to say, i bet all he wants is to just go home

she gets him!

rand: i was there [scaring egwene in her arches trip], wasn't i? mom: he's too smart for his own good

first time anybody has ever said that about rand dkfjgh but she's right! he's a lot more perceptive than much of show fandom gives him credit for!

mom: that guy perrin killed [bornhald], was he a bad guy? me: well, he was a whitecloak, so yes, but as whitecloaks go, he was better than some dad: a fitting description for his tombstone

mom during the inn attacks: it's so dark, i'm glad i can't see everything [because it's scary]

mom when lanaeve are saying their goodbyes: oh, why can't they just stay together?!

relatable to all of us who watched our favorite ships part ways in this episode!

"since perrin is going home, does that mean he won't be in the story anymore?" perrin wishes that was the case!

me: rand could've at least told moiraine the change of plans before she spent all that money on the boat mom: i know! it's like they think she has bottomless pockets! me: well to be fair she kinda DOES have bottomless pockets

dad after the episode: that felt like a lot more than just one episode

mom: will lan and nynaeve see each other again? me: not this season, but they should if there are more seasons mom: [sighs sadly] i just want lan to be happy

she followed this up with "this doesn't seem like an easy world to be happy in" you can say that again!

"if you counted how many times these 5 people got attacked throughout the show, i wonder how many it would be" very dangerous new WOT drinking game just dropped courtesy of my mom

the next day, she said "dad said he'll be home after [whatever time] and we can watch more then, it sounds like he really doesn't want to miss any" could've fooled me since it's never obvious that he's paying attention let alone invested, but it IS rare for him to even so much as imply that he wants us to wait for him to watch something!

3x02

me: this is elayne's mom pregnant with elayne mom: but she has two kids already me: yes, elayne has two older brothers mom: so why is elayne the one inheriting the throne? me: it's a matriarchal throne succession mom: i'm glad i have you here to explain things

huge gasp when the assassinations happened. "elayne is so nice, but her mom is so terrible!"

my dad's thought on the assassinations was "now this DID happen a lot in town meeting" lmao

as soon as they showed gaebril my mom went "i think i've seen him before", it turned out she was mixing him up with ishy since they have similar hair/beards, but i was cracking up imagining that rahvin had compelled her through the screen to remember him being in previous seasons

the music got a shoutout from her in this episode during the travel montages! there's some particularly groovy tunes in this episode's travel montages

several chuckles over galad getting made fun of in various scenes, as is only right

another chuckle at "the prophecy does not say i must enjoy the task"

elayne: that's the first time anyone's accused this room of being big mom: it looks pretty big to me!

first my mom was upset that no one was coming up to perrin to say hello when he arrived in the village, and then after finding out the whitecloaks have a bounty on him, she was upset that he was walking around out in the open and so many people had seen him arrive

she was also like "why did moiraine just let him leave and go home?" and i pointed out that moiraine's goal was to separate rand from his friends and that she really kinda only cares about rand at this point and not the other four so much, which my mom semi-accepted haha

mom after finding out min's viewing of dead aes sedai & warders wasn't referring to the 3x01 battle but was actually another battle still to come: is there ever any hope at all in this world?!

much appreciation for chiad's line about asking the lion to protect you from the bear and ending up in one belly instead of the other

perrin: i'll turn myself in mom: oh perrin, you're too good for your own good

once again my mom asked "does rand know she's evil?" about lanfear, so i took another chance to explain that rand knows objectively that she's evil but she's been careful not to do anything evil in front of him as a way of manipulating him, and that he really loved her during the months they were together so it's hard for him to just turn that off. i'm doing my best to seed in Rand Sympathy! we'll see if it pays off in the remaining episodes.

then my dad sneezed really loudly and distracted us all from the quick reveal that lanfear is disguising herself as renna to torture egwene, so i had to catch them up on that. classic dad behavior.

mom: [trying to jog her memory] was min romantically involved with anyone? me: no mom: she and mat might make a good pair me: NO they're like siblings to me!!!!

if she makes any kind of shippy comment during the CPR i'm going to pull out the "rand's the one who gave him CPR in the books, would you have considered THAT romantic too?" card hahaha

after gaebril told elayne about the trouble in andor, my mom was all "why would the queen leave the country if there's trouble?" "why is she leaving all her advisors behind at the tower if there's trouble?" she was starting to pick up on Something Fishy Going On Here

the scene of siuan taking the horn from mat was a big hit, naturally!

elayne: i learned from the best [morgase] mom: i don't know, i don't think SHE would ever kill her rivals dad: *i* think she would

mom about elaida: is she evil? dad: no one in this show is fully evil or fully good, they're all some of both

continuing his tradition of remaining mostly quiet and seeming not to pay much attention and then coming out with completely accurate takes

3x03

at first when my mom saw "gaebril" skulking around she was laughing because she thought morgase accidentally forgot him at the tower and left him behind, i was dying and am going to think about that every time i watch this scene forevermore

at the reveal that he's evil: "ugh! of COURSE!"

then i was explaining that he's not just evil, he's a forsaken, and explaining more about how he planted fake memories, and also giving her the list of all the forsaken we've met so far to add to her notes. we did pause for most of this, but sadly sammael's rug line got talked over so they missed that one, alas!

while nynaeve and elayne were walking through the streets my mom said she thought she saw somebody lurking around - it must have been the gray man, i was impressed! i hadn't caught him myself!

mom after hearing elaida's plan to cage rand: [unhappily] there are so many different groups of bad guys, and only one of good guys

she remembered the tuatha'an well from s1! she said she remembers s1 better than s2 since she'd watched it twice (and also said that s1 was the easiest one to follow since it was only about the main small group of characters)

we both keep fretting about wanting to know exactly how much time has passed, so in the scene with laila's tree we were like "well i guess however long it takes for a tree to grow that tall is how much time has passed" (and then in the later scene when perrin was like "don't you remember what happened at bel tine?" my mom was going "five years ago? last year?" trying to prompt him to specify haha)

she thinks it's very foolish for nynaeve and elayne to go off to tanchico on their own with so much danger afoot

"they're like paris fashion models" about liandrin & co's new getup in tanchico djkjfg

"i've never seen someone try to turn themselves in and fail" was a big hit!

though later my mom wondered if faile might be lanfear in disguise, which i accidentally shot down because first she just asked "is that lanfear?" and i said "no, it's a new character" thinking she was just mixing them up, not that she was suspicious lanfear might be in disguise as faile

mom about galad and gawyn: they remind me of, we used to call them "big men on campus", pompous and arrogant but also popular

mat: LIANDRIN?! nynaeve: keep your voice down! mom: he's always shouting about things that should be kept secret!

mom: i don't think elayne will be happy if mat kills her brothers me: he's not going to KILL them

3x04

mom while moiraine is watching lan and rand spar: why is she just sitting around? me: there's not a whole lot else to do in the desert

over the course of this episode, aviendha progressed from "that girl" to "aviendra" she's getting there!

me: [mentions something about the car'a'carn] dad: speaking of, were you able to find a parking space for the car'a'carn at the dentist earlier?

rand: tell me you won't try to stop me or use me moiraine: i will do nothing to hinder you from fulfilling your destiny mom: [disapprovingly] that's not what he asked

whether she'll understand rand's perspective in his upcoming conflict with egwene remains to be seen, but she does seem to understand his perspective in his conflict with moiraine! and kinda always has, i think, i remember her expressing distrust of moiraine in the prior seasons too.

"rand sure has a lot he needs to get done before he goes mad" WOT: A Summary

the first sight of the dragon tattoo with rhuarc got a "that looks cool" stamp of approval

earlier in the day she'd asked whether everything in the show was from the books or if some stuff was made up and i'd said the show made up/altered some stuff, and here i gave an example of how in the books mat is part of the waste trip and he's the one to go to rhuidean with rand and to get the moment of pulling a bunch of different knives out of unlikely places and my mom said "ha! i can see mat doing that. more than i can see moiraine doing it." i agree!! [cries in Mat Being Yoinked Out Of The Waste And His Silly Character Quirk Moment Given To Another]

[shot of rand's broad shoulders from behind as he's walking] "he looks like he's gotten a lot more muscles since the first season"

as rand is stepping into the columns: "i bet he's wishing he could just go home to his farm"

i gave a rundown of what to expect for the visions, with rand seeing real events from the past through the eyes of his biological ancestors starting with the most recent and getting further back and with moiraine seeing many possible but not definite paths for the future, because i feared she might get confused otherwise and i thought she would appreciate the experience more if i clarified this firmly ahead of time

and she did appreciate it! not much commentary (aside from "he should get an award for playing all these different characters" and "it's like they were on drugs when they wrote this episode" djkjfgkh but i think this was Complimentary rather than Derogatory), she was mostly just quiet and taking it all in

although she was very indignant about moiraine "stealing something from the tree" haha she was like "that can't be allowed!" and i said "moiraine doesn't really care about what's allowed"

and of course she was horrified by the future vision of lan dying and hastened to seek assurance that these are not definite futures

rand: [collapses in exhaustion after all the visions are done] dad: i agree

aviendha: as you wish, wetlander mom: [chuckles] like the princess bride me: [silently giggling in avirand]

i don't know if this episode struck either of them as particularly noteworthy or standout the way so many WOT fans feel about rhuidean, but if they make any additional comments on it later, i will be sure to note them!

[venus-light]

Good Omens S2’s ending is so agonising, but I do think it’s going to make Aziraphale’s development significantly more impactful in S3! As a second act this has every painful, fascinating ingredient that made Zuko’s arc in ATLA so outstanding, and Aziraphale’s core conflict/fatal flaw draws from the heart of his character!

He loves Crowley deeply but he’s still clinging to Heaven’s brainwashing, and he’s never actually treated Crowley as an equal or sought to understand Crowley’s perspective yet.

Aziraphale still seems to believe Crowley is just a ‘lost, confused angel’, rather than recognising what Crowley is actually doing: rejecting the system entirely and trying to do good on his own terms. Aziraphale still believes the desire to be Angelic and the desire to be good to others are the same thing, therefore if Crowley is good (as he’s shown himself to be) he must be secretly want to be an Angel and is betraying that whenever he argues against Heaven.

Aziraphale still hasn’t listened when Crowley explains over and over again that he DOESN’T WANT TO BE AN ANGEL. He’s still desperate for Heaven’s validation, even after he chose to leave, and there’s a deep void in his identity! He wants so desperately to be seen as “Good” (regardless of the actual morality of his actions) that it’s used over and over again to coerce and manipulate him! He also wants desperately for Crowley to be “Good” too, because at this point Aziraphale couldn’t ever let himself trust or accept Crowley if he wasn’t.

Aziraphale’s ‘angelic superiority’ is still constantly used to prop up his own identity, and he still considers deviance from Heaven (both in himself and others) as something shameful, embarrassing and in need of being ‘Corrected’. He also still believes Crowley needs/wants to be “Forgiven” by Heaven and that angels are inherently superior to everyone else!

Aziraphale’s default response to suffering being to make it about Heavenly purity rather than empathising with others also makes him extremely blind/self-centred in some situations. He’s proven that he’s willing to adopt empathy - the force that drives Crowley to compassion and forgiveness - if it helps to do good for others, but it’s still a very undeveloped skill in him.

At the start of this season Aziraphale lets Crowley sleep in his car for God’s sake, and apparently only calls Crowley when he wants something! He takes Crowley’s devotion to him for granted, and dismisses Crowley’s feelings and perspective on Gabriel instantly! Whenever they disagree on anything Aziraphale just assumes that he is Good and Crowley is Evil, therefore Crowley’s perspective isn’t worth taking seriously. And Crowley loves Aziraphale so much and is so afraid of losing him that he just… concedes. Over and over again. And keeps on forgiving him without Aziraphale ever realising how deep he’s cutting Crowley. Even now, Aziraphale still sees everything as a dichotomy between “Good” and “Evil”, “Angelic” and “Demonic”, with no middle ground or space outside of it. A worldview that fundamentally misunderstands Crowley’s entire life, moral compass and identity.

Aziraphale does love Crowley, but he still hasn’t reckoned with Heaven’s brainwashing. He still won’t ever be able to understand Crowley’s perspective until he gets the outcome he thought would fix everything, and realises that it won’t.

[sentientsnakeskin]

Yellowjackets S3 spoilers!!

The shauhat kiss took everyone by such surprise (deserved) that we haven’t been able to process other elements of the show. I’m still personally weak about all this insight to Nat that we get? How good she’s doing leading the place and all that? Like she turned a whole bunch of girls starving in the cold into a thriving, cultivated community. Even though she’s not cut out for it, the wilderness or Lottie or whatever made her be leader chose right. She’s the only one who could have pulled this off and it’s incredible watching her be so happy in this space she’s created. It wrecks me to think about how she lost that beautiful purpose when she was rescued. And her FUNERAL??? Don’t talk to me on god. Her mother’s speech may have been shit but it also broke me into pieces. She was a little girl and she loved to get pushed on the swings. Her mother didn’t say anything about her moody teenage daughter’s actions leading to the death of her husband, she didn’t talk about the crash, she didn’t talk about the broken girl who came home, her estrangement, or her years of drug abuse, or her death, nothing. She was a little girl who played on the swings. And she wanted her mother to push her until it was dark. 

Also unrelated but she SERVED in that mugshot omfg 

[receivedhope]

I feel like it's pretty undeniable that from Season 3 onwards, there seemed to have been a shift in Blaine's character from how he was in Season 2. While I am not the first to point this out, I do think there are some greatly underutilized traits of Blaine present in S2 that get phased out as he receives more screen time and are not usually brought up in such conversations.

This will unfortunately get long because I love Blaine meta.

There was always some half attempt at making Blaine out to be bossy and while Puppet Master is an episode that aims to address this, I did think it fell a little flat in selling this side of him. He was more whiny than anything lol. This bossy side of him that always wants to be in control of the room and the people around him was... given a better set up, I'd say, while he was in the Warblers. It was more subtly showing than outright telling, though unfortunately we spend so little time in Dalton that it was hard to gauge the inner hierarchy and dynamics of the group accurately since they always presented a united front to outsiders - Trent's betrayal in S4 is a big deal. But I always did find it interesting how hung up they were on Blaine, who at the very most attended Dalton only for two years, as well as that he had no actual title such as a captain or head Warbler, yet was the decided leader of the group not just star performer. (See: Will shakes Blaine's hand after their Sectionals tie. Based on just the Warbler court scenes, you'd assume Wes stepping up here to do so make more sense.)

Though it was not lost completely and I always have been of the opinion that most conflict Kurt and Blaine have stem from their respective control issues. Kurt needs schedules, sufficient space to move on his own and he exercises his need for boundaries freely (see: retreating to his room in Home and asking Burt to leave as well, not allowing Finn to touch him in Theatricality and Grilled Cheesus, scheduling Friday night dinners with Burt, scheduling make outs with Blaine in DWS) while Blaine enjoys being the protector and ultimately having the last word (see: the entire plot of Tested and NNY). It makes a stupid amount of sense that the times they butt heads the core issue stems from an external force limiting their movement, like how in TFT Blaine sees the opening night closing in on him as a deadline and makes him panic, or when Blaine cheats in TBU to gain some control over how to identify their long distance relationship, or how Kurt feels their impending wedding more suffocating than anything pre S6.

However something that unfortunately did seem to get entirely lost from Blaine's character as time went on, that I do think miss from him entirely in latter seasons, is his conformist attitude from S2.

Blaine is almost Kurt's foil during his Dalton arc. While Kurt hates having to fit in (and has never quite succeeded in it at all), Blaine likes moving as one with other people. He likes being a part of a team, being depended on and being liked. And this attitude ultimately is why he is stuck in a rut before he meets Kurt - he retreats to Dalton when real life gets complicated and messy, because he is never challenged by it. Dalton is how Blaine ultimately sabotages himself.

Even his wardrobe in S2 was telling this story - a completely normal guy who likes being only that. The very few times we see him in everyday clothes, they are average with nothing outstanding to note. Dark colors, jeans, simple shirts. A far cry from "I am the center of attention and this primary colors proves it" and wacky bowties. While I always liked that Kurt is most likely the one picking out his clothes, I did enjoy this side of Blaine more, the subdued, regular everyday guy who wears only what his peers do - even if the costume department would have found it painfully boring to stick with in the long run lol.

Why he got so worked up about and increasingly frustrated with Finn actively excluding him from the ND in early S3 also makes sense. While Kurt, as a true individualist with no real desire to fit in is not easily phased by not being included, Blaine takes it to heart.

(I always thought Blaine views having a significant other is like always being in the same team with someone and is why he desires a relationship so much.)

I like this aligned with his hesitance and slight uncomfortableness over Kurt's prom outfit in PQ as well. (Though, I'm sorry to grasp as straws, I also enjoy the thought of Blaine deciding to side with Burt as a way to impress him - if you look closely, Blaine is more impressed and smitten with Kurt's outfit at first... But you are free to disregard this point because this is just me being insane.)

A natural conclusion of his bossy and conformist personality would ultimately result in him also leaning towards being authoritarian, which I think makes great sense for someone who likes being part of a team, knowing where they all stand and making sure he fits in but also preferring to take charge and be the head. I really like that! And I think this all being contrasted with Kurt, who can't blend in, even if he tries (see: Preggers, Laryngitis, his entire dalton arc, I'd argue that even his senior class president campaign as well as starting in NYADA qualify a bit) and always makes his own path to follow is just sooo interesting and can really sell the whole opposites attract thing! Because I do believe that Kurt found it particularly nice that there is this outstanding, well mannered guy who is respected by all his peers and is ready to go to bat for him, helping him push Kurt's ideas as well as using his influence to help him - I think somthing very similar attracted Kurt to Finn as well in S1 - and it is pretty much canon that Blaine finds Kurt's fighting spirit inspiring and something hopeful (I think he was inspired by Kurt to transfer to McKinley, which is why "I did this for me" and "I even switched schools for him" can simultaneously be true), as well as attractive that Kurt is a one of a kind (cut to 'youre the only one...' in DCT). Also put a pin in that last part, because I have so much to say about the consistent bird allegories and imagery associated with their relationship, but maybe at a later date since this is already getting long.

Other times, I also think that S3+ Blaine is not that out of left field if you pay attention to him in S2. Something that gets pretty early established is that Blaine is a rash and impulsive person. When he is hurt, he lashes out. You can see this in NoN when Karofsky picks a fight with them, it gets physical pretty quickly, however you can see Kurt being just... disappointed? Resigned, almost?

Blaine is also quick to react to Sandy's heckling that Kurt shuts down asap.

We later learn that Blaine is also entirely capable of doing things with the intent of hurting Kurt - he sings a Whitney Houston song at him that implies Kurt much less ambigiously cheated than in reality, in front of all his friends, because at the core of it is his anxiety about Kurt leaving him. He cheats on Kurt when he feels neglected.

And I think it is a bit naive to think he dated Karofsky entirely because of a supposed mutual attraction, ignoring the Kurt of it all. The history them three share is undeniable and he did want Kurt to feel like shit about it - which, for the record, I think is understandable since Kurt broke off their engagement rather ungracefully and it pushed Blaine into a depressive state, to the point of getting cut from NYADA and having to move back to Ohio.

All that to say - I always found all of the above very in line with the S2 Blaine who was quick to compare Kurt to Karofsky in BIOTA, just because Kurt said something mildly offensive in a moment where he was also hurt!

I guess this is also the time to quickly, as a sidenote, talk about Kurt's biphobic comment. I think the ultimate, intended purpose of the scene was more comedic. A mean, off color joke, but a joke RIB wanted to make nonetheless. However I do not find it out of character. Firstly: that is a seventeen year old boy who was told his whole life that he is disgusting and sick for liking men by the entirety of the conservative town he lives in. He is sexually assaulted by his closeted bully and has to transfer schools and he was never afforded to be "in" the closet either, because everyone around him assumes his sexuality. How right or wrong that is to do, is another topic. He has a crush on the only other out and proud gay kid in Ohio - who would rather give it a shot with a girl before Kurt. And to add insult to injury, Kurt already lost a crush of his to Rachel!

Of course he is hurt, of course he will say something less than gracious!

And Blaine in the only other person who is fully aware of Kurt's situation - for him to compare Kurt saying something mean and a bit offensive to Karofsky's actions is out of pocket, in my opinion.

I'm not sure how to end this neatly, but I will say this: I do like all of the above about Blaine and would have loved to see these traits more consistently. I do not think this darker side of his negates the good parts of him. If anything, understanding his lows helps me appreciate his highs even more.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part I)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 1,536.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Notes: As soon as I saw him my feminism left my body immediately and my inner voice agreed that I'd let him take away my human rights with no question. He's an absolute idiot, would sleep with him 100%.

Heads up as English is not my native language sooo, yeah you know what follows. Lord pls give me inspo to finish this fic, amen.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part I: For The Common Good

Two months.

Two months ago Grace Mallory decided to put the former greatest supe into sleep. Somehow, you managed to get in her head, explaining your new project to her and finding a new use for Soldier Boy, who had enough rest for 40 years.

You knew what happened at the Seven Tower, how Soldier Boy and Butcher's team ended up there to finally kill Homelander. Grace tried doing some shit against Vought before, but she never managed to win. It wasn't different this time. What was better then, that to develop a cure for supes like you, who didn't ask for it? People who never used their powers in public, nor seeked fame and money.

As a doctor in Chemistry, you were developing a cure for Compound V with a secret team. Suitable for you, you were in the same CIA tower Colonel Mallory decided to encapsulate Soldier Boy to, initially, spend the rest of his days in. You had luck Grace gave green light to the project, even though your team was already working on it without her approval anyway. But it was so much better if she found out properly.

Making your way to the super secured wing where Soldier Boy was held out of his sleep, you gripped the folder in your hands. You were scanned thoroughly before going inside a cold space, where two different crystal windows and metal doors separated the place. The armed guard guided you to the first room to check first through the window. You sighed, seeing a man sitting down, hands cuffed to a harsh steel table, gaze lost. It was him.

"The keys," you requested the guard by your side.

"Doctor-"

"I said, keys. He doesn't need to be cuffed."

He complied to your order, clearly annoyed but with a straight face and you walked to the closed door.

"If something happens, I can take care of myself. Don't let anyone inside understand?" you said.

He gave a nod. With that, he let you inside the room, the doors closing behind your back.

The prisoner observed you carefully as soon as you entered. His gaze was tired, but he seemed ready to attack, and it was completely hard to ignore his rough stare on you as you made your way to your seat in front of him. Soldier Boy observed you, placing the folder on the surface, and you held his gaze, not flinching for a second. Until you decided to talk first.

"I am glad you're awake. My name is Y/N, I am a doctor at the facility. Just wanna know how you're doing today," you spoke in a calm and soft way, so he could see you were not a threat.

He saw you roaming through the pages of the file, which he recognized as a copy of his file, and you took a pen from your lab coat to make some anotations.

"Not a smart move to let a fucking doctor here," he said with a deep voice, lips forming a straight line. "What do you want?"

"I want to help you."

"Cut the bullshit."

"I want to talk. If you let me, I will uncuff you so we can have a chat, like civilized people. Just don't try to escape, you won't go too far."

He raised an eyebrow as you reached his wrists and carefully, you set him free from the metal grip.

"I know what happened with Butcher and his boys," you said, confident that he would not try anything else. "About Homelander and your relationship with him."

"What the fuck do you know?" Soldier Boy tensed visibly hearing the name of the bastard. Still, he remained on his seat. "Want some info? You can lick Grace's pussy for that."

"She is, actually, the one who approved me to be here right now," you answered, brushing off his vocabulary. You used to deal with assholes like him all the time.

He scoffed. "Why?"

"Ben," you called his real name softly. "You've been sleeping for four decades. You deserve a second chance, I am offering you that. In some sort of way."

"I'm not going to be part of that freakshow-"

"This has nothing to do with Vought," you cut his words, his tone rising and you knew perfectly why. "You just need to be here in the facility, awake, in a dignified place we will give you so you can learn everything you missed. We can give you therapy, a comfy room, anything you want that's legal, of course..."

His jaw clenched, feeling you would ask for something more. "In exchange of what?"

"I know it's hard, unfortunately you won't be able to get out, but you don't deserve to sleep forever again," you sighed. "I will pay you visits and follow your improvements because you're human, after all. That's all I ask from you," you gave him a smile for the first time.

For a few moments, he said nothing, as if making up his mind about it. "Alright, anything but coming back to that shit hole. I need reefer though."

"Lucky you, that's legal now. We can certainly make it happen."

He looked around the room as you let him go inside first. Not the fanciest, not the shittiest. It had the basics: a bed, a sofa, a TV, a closet, a bookshelf with different books, magazines and newspapers he wasn't sure would read any time, a separate door for a bathroom, enough privacy, and no windows though. It wasn't really a cell, but he did look and felt somehow like a hostage. Just a little less if he could say.

"This is what we have for now, I am all ears if you request something else to have in here," you began as he paced around and tested the bed, sitting down on the mattress.

Ben still wasn't convinced on why you offered this to him. Sceptic, he gave a good look at you, roaming his eyes at your standing figure in a fucking lab coat. Christ, he hated those. Too pretty for a doctor, but too dumb to be locked with a supe like him. He was so tired that he didn't try and hit on you like he normally would with any walking pussy that appeared in plain sight. He was too exhausted to even give a shit.

"Lemme think about it, doctor."

"Of course, take your time," you replied as he walked toward the bookshelf, scanning through the titles there were. He recognized only half of them.

"So, I will be imprisoned here instead of a fucking eggshell," Ben said, turning around to meet you. "Charming," he smirked, dragging the words out of his mouth. "Doing charity."

He watched your face drop as you shook your head. "It's not like that-"

"Then why keep me awake?" Ben insisted as he gave steps to get close to you. "I can't die, it's much easier to force my sleep in a capsule your boss made specially for me."

He stopped mere inches in front of you, your eyes never turned away from him. He thought you were fucking brave just by keeping his dark gaze.

"Ben, I told you I will be watching your progress. You can grow from all of this with our help-"

"What kind of doctor are you?"

"A psychiatrist. That's why I'm here."

Ben scoffed with a grin showing on his lips. He didn't believe in that kind of shit, but oh, well. What was he gonna do about it? He was tired of sleeping, Mallory captured him, and you were here, giving him a shelter for no cost, but his freedom. In his mind, that was temporary of course. With time, a plan would come. Right now, he just needed to keep up with the fucked up things of the modern world.

"I guess you would come and babysit me then," he said, going back to take a sit on the bed.

"Wouldn't use 'babysit you' but I will come to see you, that's for sure."

He nodded. Silence was his answer, so you continued.

"Just general rules. Our people will bring you three meals a day, if you're missing something that you need then just push the button by the door, there will be guards outside to assist you on that. Also, there are clothes your size on the closet and personal products so you can change and take a shower," he stayed silent again, just taking in your words. "If you don't need anything then I leave you to get comfortable," you said, about to leave.

"Wait. I do need something," he hesitated for a moment, but he continued anyway. "Don't use those lab coats when you come in."

Your eyes widened, he quickly realised you already knew why he was requesting that when you started to take off the coat, revealing your formal attire. You wrapped the coat on your arm and cleaned your throat.

"I totally understand, I will keep that in mind when I come tomorrow. And I will ask for your reefer too."

You flashed a final polite smile and left him to get settled. Ben breathed out. Fuck, he really needed a shower.

[thenameswinterfics]

CAOINEADH

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Banshee!Reader Settings: Season 2, brief mention of moments from S3 to SKMD Summary: While wandering outside Dunholm with his mother, Sihtric is visited by a creature whose presence brings terrible news to his family. Years later, the Banshee returns to the mortal lands and Sihtric, now grown up and in the service of Uhtred, faces the consequences of a bad omen. But the tragedy also brings them closer together. Word Count: 5,2 K Warnings: Angst, mention of blood, mention of death, mention of main character death(s), human/monster romance, hopeful ending? , me writing Finan's Irish accent. A/N: After a long time, I'm back to writing for my favourite Dane rat boy. I'd somehow forgotten how much I loved and enjoyed writing for him, especially after a period of putting him aside for a while. This feels like I'm republishing a fic of his for the very first time, so I'm terribly nervous. I hope you like and enjoy it. If you find the ending a bit rushed, I'm sorry. I finished it while it was late at night in my timezone, and everything will be fixed eventually when I'm awake and more aware of my actions. Many thanks to @foxyanon , @legitalicat and @zaldritzosrose for helping me with the Banshee lore, for writing Finan's accent, for the emotional support, for the beta reading and last minute corrections, and to @sylasthegrim for the early beta reading and emotional support as well.

This fic is my entry and first submission to the Fan-Frankentober event, organized by @fandomeventcenter. Here the masterlist to take a look at the other works.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header by me (template by @zaldritzosrose) Dividers by me and @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3 (COMING SOON)

Caoineadh: Irish and Scottish Gaelic pronunciation of "keening" (to cry, to weep); traditional form of the vocal lament for the dead in the Gaelic tradition.

By the time Sihtric stopped running, he had no more memory of the place he was in.

His hands, clenched into small fists, rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to scan the surroundings, looking for any detail that might help him orientate himself in the unknown space. He could not recognize the long tree trunks rising from the ground, their dry branches seeming to touch the twilight sky as he watched the sun's rays filter through the few remaining canopies. 

The place was eerily quiet, the sound of the wind blowing and moving the branches and leaves on the ground the only sound to break the surreal yet disturbing atmosphere. He felt a shiver run down his spine and the little Dane suddenly hugged his shoulder, as if to hide his head between them like a turtle. 

It was one of the few times he and his mother had left the strong walls of Dunholm together, Sihtric enjoying the fresh air of the forest while Elflaed was busy gathering flowers and herbs that he had little interest in. Sometimes his curiosity would get the better of him, his big, mismatched eyes fixed on Elflaed's wooden basket and how many herbs she had managed to gather. When his mother felt his eyes on her, she would patiently stop picking and crouch down beside him, patiently explaining what she was doing as she wrapped his small body around her, only to see her son wriggle out of her embrace soon after and play with small sticks nearby. 

Sihtric was usually a quiet and obedient child: when his mother asked him to stay close to her, he obeyed without a fuss. That day, however, something caught his attention, a heartbreaking wail that filled his ears and shook his heart: it was a gentle but sad song that carried pain and sorrow, hiding a sense of concern and care towards to whom it was addressed. Armed only with a small stick and with curiosity teasing him, Sihtric dared to disobey his mother for the first time, and entered into the woods while leaving his mother behind.

And there he was, lost in an unfamiliar place, with nothing to defend himself but a small stick. He was too young to call himself a warrior, barely able to hold a knife, let alone wield a sword that was too heavy for his tiny hands and a shield properly. Hiding and fleeing was the only option he could take in case of real danger, for he had spent his whole life hiding from the wrath of his cruel father; but the surroundings would make the task impossible, as the tall and twisted trees casted long shadows, and the undergrowth cracked with every step he could take.

Suddenly, the silence of the forest was broken by the same sorrowful chant that dragged him in the deep of the woods. Holding his wooden stick in his hands, Sihtric moved carefully in the direction of the voice, trying not to make noise while the ground cracked beneath his feet. 

The walk was short, and he found himself in front of a small lake he had never seen before. Squatting on the bank was a young lady in a blue gown, her black hair cascading down her shoulders like pitch-black watercourses, giving the little boy her back as she continued to sing her lament. Sihtric could hardly understand what she was doing, her head almost hidden beneath her shoulders, her hands working frantically to move the water in small ripples.

Holding his breath and trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Sihtric crept up behind her, lifting his small head and trying to find the right angle where he could see what she was doing underwater. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, fear and anticipation creeping into his bones as he felt the keening close to him, the chanting drawing him in even if he couldn't understand it. But as he crept closer, something beneath his boots cracked softly, and the sound was enough to make the lady turn and show her face to the boy.

It was the first time he met you. 

Sihtric watched with frightened eyes as your icy blue gaze locked on his and a low hiss escaped your mouth, your pale complexion adorned by scarlet tears rolling down your eyes. Behind you, piles of clothes lay scattered on the grass, others dripping in the water that had lost its transparency and had become muddy with blood. 

The little Dane found the strength to stand up and try to run away, but he soon fell, tripping over a stone behind him. Your ghostly presence, now calmed down after the initial fright, lightly approached him and crouched down. One of your slender hands rested on his cheek, your touch as cold as the death itself. But the words that came out from your lips were way colder, breaking the silence with your voice as soft as the silk but sharp as a piece of glass. 

“She cannot escape to the Other World.”

“She?” “Escape from what?” “What is the Other World she is talking about?” These were the words that filled the boy's mind, filled with nothing but fear and the coldness of your touch. But soon Sihtric's tiny body was enveloped in a familiar warmth, and two arms lifted him from the floor. It was only when warm, trembling lips were pressed to his forehead that he recognised the touch of his mother, who had searched for him after losing sight of him.

“Sihtric!” Elflaed cried while holding her son close to her. “Why were you here all alone? I told you never to leave my side, never! Oh, my sweet boy!” 

The young Dane watched as he silently pointed to the spot where you appeared before him, but a cold realisation hit him as you were no longer there, gone like ashes in the wind.

Sihtric did not answer, too lost in his mother's warmth and love, and the bad omen you gave him still shook him to the core. He clung to her presence, and each time your words echoed in his mind, he sought comfort in his mother's presence, even when they left the forest and the warmth of her small hut welcomed them.

But a few days later, the opening of the Other World shook nature and its creatures. And his mother's soul was claimed after a long agony.

Standing outside Eoferwic, you looked up at the walls that surrounded the town, admiring the mix of Roman, Danish and Saxon architecture that was unfamiliar to you: you were there when the Romans laid the foundation stone on the ground, and the same souls were the first you guided to the Other World, announcing the sad event in the form of a manifestation to the families you watched over. 

And you were called to do your duty again: to find the same boy you met years ago, to tell him that more of his family's souls will be claimed in the days to come. They will not be gentle and innocent like those of his mother and grandparents you guided through the other world: they were violent, reckless, stained with blood’s innocents and sins far from forgotten. But it was up to the god or gods to decide where their souls would go in the afterlife. 

Your pale eyes scanned the area, and when you found a small stream where you could wash the dirty clothes you were carrying, you walked over and dipped your hands into the cold water. You watched as your fingers swirled around the cloth and the water lost its translucency, a faint reddish tinge staining it.

The night was still, and a gentle breeze rustled the trees, lightly caressing your raven locks. You continued to scrub the clothes in the water as your wailing began, your lament filling the air and mingling with the sound of the rushing water as your eyes watered and scarlet tears rolled down your white face. 

As on that night, something soft cracked on the ground and your wailing stopped. You lifted yourself from the ground and turned towards the sound, and soon found yourself crouched beside a young man, probably trying to sneak up on you without attracting attention. 

He was a handsome man, the most beautiful your eternal eyes could ever have seen; his features sharp, his fair skin adorned with a few scars on his forehead, eyebrow and cheekbone, a knotted tattoo crossing part of his head, his dark hair cut at the sides and combed into three plaits and knotted at the back. These were features that were strangely familiar to you, your mind trying to remember when was the last time you saw him. 

But it was his eyes that captured you the most. There was pain, melancholy and innocence in them - the same light you had found in the bicoloured eyes of the little Danish boy you had reached outside Dunholm. You felt a sudden flicker of recognition, your eyes widening slightly as you recognised that lost and frightened boy in the man he had become. The years had moulded him into a skilled warrior, but the softness of his eyes remained unchanged, you noted. 

You chose a cautious approach, slowly closing the distance between you. You noticed his body trembling and his jaw clenching, his muscles not moving from where he was: it was still unclear to you whether he wasn't moving out of fear or anticipation.

“It has been a long time, sweet boy,” you broke the silence, using the same nickname you had heard his mother call him. Sihtric stood frozen, partly enchanted by your ethereal appearance and your voice, as melodious as the birdsong at sunrise.  

His eyebrows furrowed and his expression changed from alienation to curiosity: your figure was too familiar to him, but he could not remember where he had first met you.

 “Do… Do I know you, lady?” the Dane asked, holding his breath as the silent nod of your head answered his question. 

You took a long pause before answering him, "You do, in a way," you said in a soft voice that carried the weight of your grief. You took a step closer, noticing that the Dane was shifting his incongruous gaze slightly away from you, "But I have known you since you were a little boy playing spy in the deep forest.”

One of your hands reached out and rested on his cheek, the cold touch awakening something in Sihtric that he thought he had buried deep in his heart. He remembered your figure knelt near the lake shore, your icy blue gaze that penetrated deep into his soul, the cryptic prophecy you had given him but he was too young to understand.And then he remembers the mother he lost, and how it was one of the last nights they wandered the Dunholm woods together, and how after her death the Dane desperately tried to find you to explain, but you never showed again.

Instinctively, one of his calloused hands reached for yours, shivering at the cold of your pale skin. But he never pulled you away: instead, he leaned against you, finding the softness of your touch endearing.

“I remember your touch,” he murmured shyly, lowering his gaze as it briefly met yours, fascinated by your pale eyes, “It was you, all this time,” he continued, earning your satisfied hum.

“It is your family that forged our bond,” you announced with a solemn tone, absently doing circles on his skin with your thumb, “It was your mother’s souls that bound you to me.”

The mention of his mother made Sihtric snap back to reality, and pain filled again his mismatched eyes, “My mother’s soul?” he repeated in a whisper, a slight trembling could be heard in his voice, “What did you do to her? Why didn’t you save her?” 

His voice broke down when he asked his final question, and the red tears rolled down your cheeks furiously “Why did you take her away from me?” 

“It is not me who willingly chose to wrestle your mother from your arms,” you murmured softly, your other hand resting on his other cheek, cupping his face completely. Your thumbs gently wiped away his tears, and you could hear him draw in a sharp breath. Under the moonlight, you could see a faint blush in his cheeks.

“It is fate that foretells a mortal's permanence in this world and how their entry into the Other World will come about,” you explained carefully, as if you were talking with a child. “It is my duty to show myself to you and to guide you through the painful parts of death. Your pain is my own burning.” 

An uncomfortable silence fell over you, the weight of your words making it almost impossible for you both to speak. Finally, you summoned the courage to speak again, and your next words sent shivers down his spine. 

“The Other World is shaking, more souls from your family should be claimed,” You solemnly stated, and your words brought a sense of uneasiness and confusion in Sihtric. 

“Lady,” The Dane lowered his gaze, his cheeks burning at the sight of you, his body trembling at the surreality of the information he was receiving that night, “I have no family left outside my mother and my grandparents,”

You chuckled softly and shook your head, amused at his naivety, "Even if they neglect you, there are still ties of blood that fate will sever."

Sihtric clenched his jaw, his gaze darkening at the memory of a father who neglected you and looked at you with disgust only because he was guilty of being born a bastard, and of his half-brother who always looked at him with the same disgust for their father. The news of their imminent deaths brought him an unexpected sense of peace, and the chains of his tortured past will be broken forever: but he would fear how their deaths would affect him, when the damage they had done was far from repaired, and the memories of his past would knock furiously at his door, reminding him that no matter how hard he worked to forge his own path, he would forever be marked as a slave.

The Dane was about to open his mouth to reply to your words when a loud, rough voice called him out from a distance. 

“Sihtric! Come back here, yer little runt!” Finan’s voice brought him back to reality, forcing the Dane to shift his gaze and look at him. 

“I am coming, Finan!” Sihtric replied to him as quickly as he could, so that he could face you and ask you about the fate of Kjartan and Sven in death.

But when he turned his eyes again, you were gone. And a sudden emptiness filled his heart and saddened his soul.

Later in the evening, the atmosphere within the walls of Eoferwich was playful and joyful. Warriors gathered around small tables outside, filling their stomachs with food and ale while telling stories of women, successful raids, or simply myths and legends from their homelands. 

Sihtric's mind was elsewhere that night. It was common for the warriors who shared a seat at his table to see the young Dane so shy and taciturn, a pattern they justified from his earlier days as a slave in Dunholm, his eyes darting around while his body tensed at the proximity of the too many people in front of him.

But this time it wasn't the echo of his past that tormented him: it was you, your stunning, ghostly presence and melodious voice had bewitched him and altered all his senses. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, for he had seen you when he was a little boy, unaware that his world was about to collapse upon him and that he would have to rebuild it all by himself. Now that he was a young man and more aware of his own feelings and the world around him, it felt like a string pulling him towards you, longing for your touch and the way you spoke of destiny and its inexorable flow. And the mystery surrounding your figure made you even more desirable in his eyes, and he often wondered if he was facing a goddess herself.

Sihtric's thoughts about your figure were suddenly interrupted by Finan's speeches about his homeland, Ireland, its customs and its most famous legends. One in particular caught the Dane's attention, and he shifted his gaze from his reflection in the mug to the Irishman.

“I told yer tha these creatures ain’t nothin’ but an omen of death!” Finan spoke with such emphasis, looking at Clapa and the few men at the table listening to him. When he felt Sihtric's gaze resting on him, he continued his story. “Legends say they’ll appear in front of yer, sometimes washing bloodied clothes, and they’ll cryin’ and wailin’ somethin’ terrible tha will hit ya family.”

Sihtric listened intently to Finan's words and felt his hand tremble as he gripped his mug of ale. He felt all the dots connect at once, especially when he saw you washing dirty clothes and singing a mournful chant, your wailing so tearful that it filled the listener's heart with sadness. He also remembered facing you twice and seeing the tears of blood leave your eyes. 

There were no creatures like you in the Norse legends and beliefs, and Sihtric wondered how a creature from a different faith could become the spirit guardian of his family.

“I found a beautiful lady washing a pile of clothes not so far from here,” The Dane murmured against his will and soon the animated atmosphere died down and he shrugged as he felt all eyes on him. His mismatched eyes found the Irishman's brown ones and with a slight nod he silently ordered him to continue.

“She was singing something,” Sihtric continued, his voice faltering slightly as he could feel the intensities of their gaze on him, “It was a lament, something so heartbreaking that it chills the blood in your veins.”

His gaze rested on Finan while he spoke his last words, “She brushed my skin and was cold at the touch. And then she was looking at me with her pale eyes, crying blood-“

“Cryin’ blood, yer said?” the Irishman asked in an urgent tone, and Sihtric nodded his head. Then he reached for the Dane's shoulder and squeezed, but not too hard: Finan knew what the wrong touch could do to a former slave, especially one as young as Sihtric.

“That woman you claimed to have seen before… Did ya know what a Banshee is?” Finan asked Sihtric, and received a shake of head as an answer. The Irishman sighed quietly, and leaned his face close to the Dane. 

“Tha’s the spirit I was talkin’ about before. They’re bound at yer family and they’ll come wailin’ and cryin’ blood while announcin’ the death of yer loved ones. She can be either a gorgeous woman or a vindictive old witch. Tha’s someone ain’t to be trifled with, remember this.”

Sihtric gulped at Finan's description of the Banshee, which was nothing like what you really were. You were so gentle with him, taking care of his pain and not putting the burden of grief on his shoulders. How could such a sweet creature as you be the dangerous spirit that Finan described earlier?

“She treated me with nothing but kindness, Finan,” the Dane replied almost innocently, and the Irishman grinned at his words. 

“Then ya were a lucky bastard!” he retorted in an ironic tone, gently slapping Sihtric’s cheek and returning to his seat. 

The conversations continued with more stories of the Banshees and Irish legends until Uhtred broke the mood by calling for Sihtric, who obediently rose and reached for his Lord. And after preparing the final strategies of war, everyone fell asleep, thinking of the battle they would face at Dunholm and how you would draw the veil of death over their heads.

After a day of celebration, Sihtric found an opportunity to sneak out of Dunholm fortress through the small door in the east wall used by the servants. He followed the small watercourse that flowed into the forest entrance and, armed with his sword and dagger, he walked into the heart of the forest, his movements light as a feather to avoid any upcoming dangers.

Once again, the prophecy you told him about your family proved true, and on the day of the battle both Kjartan and Sven were killed, their souls taken by you and sent to the afterlife. While the event lifted a great weight from Sihtric's shoulders, free at last to forge his own destiny without the cruel shadow of his father tormenting him, he wondered if you knew the difference between your afterlife and his, and if his father's soul did not rest beside Elflaed's. The image of Kjartan distressing his mother even in the afterlife made his heart skip a few beats: he would rather accept slavery under the cruel Lord of Dunholm than see his mother tormented in heaven, having found the peace she never had in life.

Finding you would be the only way for him to be reassured and to have the answers he wanted. But finding you would also mean surrendering to your cold touch, losing himself in your lifeless eyes that stirred emotions he could not believe he was feeling. Finan had warned him to be wary of spirits like you, but you were nothing more than a comforting presence at his side, a guardian who would watch over him even if he could not feel you.

Fortunately, Sihtric found the little spot where he had found the two of you the first time, remembering the details of the foliage and surrounding vegetation. And there you were, sitting near the shore, gazing out at the shimmering water, your presence quiet and not filled with your lamentations. When you appeared, Sihtric noticed how your pale face was cleared by your scarlet tears and held his breath at how even more beautiful you were without crying, the pale rays of the moon caressing your skin.

"You came," you said with a gentle smile as you stood up and approached him.

"I thought I would find you here, lady," Sihtric replied sheepishly, his cheeks turning red as he saw you closing the distance between us. He swore he had never seen such a beautiful creature as you. 

"I realised I never asked what your name was," the Dane continued, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

“Names are not important for eternal creatures like us,” you explained while you cupped your cheek in your hand, brushing his skin with your slender fingers, “you do not need to know my name to feel close to me. I will always watch over you, Sihtric.”

“I refuse to believe a creature as beautiful as yours is deprived of a name that does her justice,” Sihtric replied, closing his eyes while abandoning himself to your touch, ignoring the lump that was forming in your throat. 

You could not remember what your real name was, for you had forgotten it when death took you in its arms. You did not remember your former life as a young woman full of hopes and dreams, and how a violent death, coming from those closest to you, extinguished your light forever.

Ignoring all your thoughts, you shook your head and looked at Sihtric, who covered your hand with his calloused one and pressed his lips to your palm, feeling the coldness of your skin against his. It was a small gesture of affection that set a heart beating that you had forgotten you had, for it beat only with sorrow and grief.

"You claimed the souls of my father and half-brother today," it was Sihtric's turn to break the silence, wrapping his strong arms around your slender waist and pulling you close. Even though you were a ghost, you looked so real in his eyes and he was content to touch you and cradle your form.

"The doors of the Other World have indeed been opened to them," you replied, almost lost in his touch, "but for them there is another path to take, one filled with eternal pain and damnation."

The sight of his body tensing at your words saddened you, so you spoke quickly to reassure him, "Your mother and father have taken different paths in the afterlife. They will never meet again.” 

Sihtric felt another burden lifted from his shoulders, and his body suddenly became light: he was glad to see that his dear mother's soul was enveloped in the eternal light of beatification, while his father was probably rotting in the depths of Niflheim, surrounded by cold and darkness, for he died without a weapon in his hands. But even if he had gripped his sword tightly with his last breath, Sihtric did not believe that Odin would open the gates of Valhalla for him.

“Thank you,” the Dane whispered softly, giving you the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen while watching him growing up. His bicolored eyes shone with a renewed life, tasting that freedom he thought he could never have in his life. 

But a new realisation hit him hard, and the light in his eyes was replaced by a look of suffering: your duties were done, and you would return to the veil that separates the living from the dead, and watch over him silently but without concealment. He was not ready to say goodbye to you, not after he had found a person who would treat you with kindness and make his heart beat faster, it mattered not if that person was a creature from the afterlife or not.

“Do not go, please,” Sihtric pleaded in a feeble voice, his jaw clenching as well as the grip he had on you, afraid that you might vanish at any moment. He moved your body close to his own, resting his warm forehead on your cold one.

“I have to, Sihtric,” you explained quietly, though you felt your eyes burning and your scarlet tears about to escape. “I am bound to the spirit world, preparing families for their upcoming deaths. You are a young warrior, with life burning inside you.”

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the warmth his living body is giving to you, a warmth you used to radiate as well. And when you felt a rivulet of blood escaping from your eyes, Sihtric’s arms were quickly cupping your cheeks, wiping them with his tattooed fingers. 

"One day, when the doors of the Other World open again and the veil between our worlds forms its rift, they will give me the call to take you, and only there will you be mine forever," you added, the words slipping easily from your tongue as you lifted your gaze and locked it in his eyes. You have never had anyone look at you with love in their eyes, not even in your previous mortal life. Sihtric was sent to you to show you that a damned spirit like you could be loved and deserve to be loved. But he was the right person at the wrong time. 

“Promise you will live and wait for me until your hour will come.”

Sihtric took his time to calm down, closing his eyes and breathing slowly to calm the tears that were about to fall and to suppress the pain inside him. He thought he had found the right person to spend the rest of his life with, to take you as his wife and build a family with you. But he had to face the cold truth that you were not a living being and that you would soon have to leave his side.

The Dane opened his watery eyes again and looked at you with burning desire as he gently lifted your head with his hands. "I promise I will wait for you, my love," he swore, clutching his Thor's hammer with one hand, "and when that day comes and death takes him, I will be ready to go. And there I will be yours forever."

You both raised your faces to each other like a magnet drawing you close, sealing your eternal promise with a kiss that poured out all the love you both had carved out of each other, but that your time had not yet allowed. And when you reluctantly broke the kiss, you slowly turned and walked towards the small lake, your body disappearing into a cloud of mist that slowly dissipated into the air, the sound of a bird flapping its wings in the distance. Sihtric watched your disappearance with pain in his heart and watched over the lake until morning, when he returned to Dunholm to be reunited with Uhtred and the others.

Over the years, Sihtric had kept his promise and lived a true warrior's life, the once shy boy growing into a skilled warrior and confident man. He became one of Uhtred's most trusted allies and closest friends, and together with Finan and Osferth they wandered the borders of Mercia and Wessex, the Danelaw and East Anglia, eventually reclaiming Bebbanburg for Uhtred, who reclaimed his birthright and became its lord.

Feeling that you were always watching over him, you only appeared sporadically to bring him and his band of friends bad news: it was your job to inform him of the impending deaths of Gisela and Thyra while he was at Coccham, to warn him of Father Beocca's death before their first attempt on Bebbanburg fortress, and to claim Osferth's soul at Rumcofa. Uhtred was next, succumbing after a long and arduous battle, followed soon after by Finan, too old to even stand properly on his feet.

You were at his side, emptying his heart of grief as his mouth claimed yours in fleeting kisses before you went back to hide in the veil. You watched Sihtric grow old over the years, loving every single wrinkle on his face and every white hair that appeared over the years, while to him you were always the same young woman he fell in love with when he was a young and inexperienced lad.

And when he grew old and grey, surrounded by nothing but the walls of Dunholm, of which he had become lord, he felt the doors of the Other World open and a bird flap its wings, followed by the sound of a gash. With dying eyes and a tired smile, he watched you keep your own promise and claim his soul as he breathed his last, and feeling his body rejuvenated by the effects of eternal life, he took you by the hand as you reached the gates of the Other World, and with a long, desperate kiss, you sealed your eternal life together, and your souls at last lived and rested in peace.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.

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