#now I need to remember how to move on once again 😔😔

[robo-writing]

I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing. 

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck. 

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity. 

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so. 

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed. 

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm. 

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about. 

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read. 

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

[loverbang00]

remember when seungmin dropped this and everyone died (I'm still recovering btw)

[vaokses]

I shall be (Pirtir, Ch.3)

Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: After what you're certain has been the longest dinner you have ever endured, you prepare to retire for bed. You must face the consequence of a secret you once shared when there's a knock on the secret door of your apartments.

Word Count: 5.4k (sorry 😔)

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Usual Targaryen incest stuff.

A/N: This makes a tad more sense if you've read the prologue on Aegon's PoV, "How long this love can hold its breath". I hope you enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Title is from "I never again shall tell you what I think. I shall be sweet and crafty, soft and sly", by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

After Helaena leaves you by your apartments, you enter and dismiss your handmaidens, unwilling to stand another moment of scrutiny, of performance. They have left the hearth lit and you set out to undo your hair slowly, trying not to remember the last time you stood in this room, sitting by this very hearth as your mother explained to you how you weren’t safe here anymore, how you had no choice but to leave. 

It somehow makes the truth of what awaits you more real, that these are the rooms they have decided to assign to you. It makes all of this, the reality of what has happened and what will, more solid, more tangible. 

Your thoughts are interrupted, as are your actions, by the faintest clicking sound, as if something is knocking quietly on glass.

You have only recently learned of the secrets of the Keep, after listening too many times to your mother and father reminisce about their encounters over the years, between Daemon’s exiles and wars and returns. You only recently learned of the hidden door in the middle glass window behind the bed, the one where someone is knocking softly right now. 

With an impulse so stupid you would believe it beneath you, you approach the door, and quietly open it. 

On the other side, the deserted ramparts of the Keep at his back, stands Aegon. When you open the door fully, he offers a small smile, somewhere between daring and apprehensive. A familiar smile. 

Your eyes widen, and your next words leave your lips in a hiss, “What are you doing!?” 

He shrugs, “I was knocking like an idiot here for a while, whe-…?” 

Before he can finish his answer, you have reached for him, fingers grasping at the sleeve of his shirt and pulling him inside before anyone can see him standing at the hour of ghosts outside your rooms.

You step back, startled and confused -and, most of all perhaps, affronted at your own choice, at your own carelessness-, and for a few breaths you seem to merely stare at one another, perhaps equally surprised at finding yourselves here. 

You find yourself uncertain on how to move, how to play. Any mask you might find useful to wear now wouldn’t have opened the damn door, wouldn’t have participated in this foolish risk by allowing Aegon to enter you rooms. 

A reminder, perhaps to yourself and not him, and you voice, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“I believe I should be saying that,” He comments, defiant glint in his eye, lips pressed into a thin line. “You traveled to every city but this one, visited the seat of every family but this one, in these past two years. I assumed you had decided you would only return to King’s Landing to lay waste to it.” 

You aren’t sure why it is he feels he has any right to reproach you for not visiting, or why it is you feel the need to defend yourself, explain the reason behind your absence all these years. 

“I traveled only to where I was welcomed.” 

If he knows you’re lying, which you doubt, for you doubt he ever cared enough to ask if you were extended an invitation from the Keep, he makes no mention of it.  

Silence lingers, and though you know you should ask him why he’s here, tell him to leave, summon the guards, you say nothing. Instead, for what feels like the first time since you arrived, you look at him. 

Stupidly, the first thought that comes into your mind, and the one that lingers, that brings to the tip of your tongue questions you know better than to ask, that fills you with the reckless impulse to want to know the story behind it -and each story you’ve missed out on-, is that his hair is shorter. 

“We are to be married,” Aegon says. You take a deep breath, and find that you cannot release it. You nod your head instead, wordless. “Have they told you why they agreed to it? My mother, my grandsire?” 

“The King, no matter the…state of his body or spirit, can overrule his wife and his Hand.” 

“You know it was not my father’s doing. As…happy he seems to be that you would dare resign yourself to a man like me, he didn’t arrange this.” 

Years ago, you might have offered an apology he won’t hear from those he deserves it from, you might have crossed the distance between you, you might have offered comfort. Years ago, you might have not turned a blind eye, you might have not looked away. 

You turn towards one of the shelves by the hearth -strange, how you still remember it is this wall that first illuminates when the sun rises-, and grab the napkin dragon Helaena gifted you from a nearby table and place it upon the shelf. 

Turning back around, you answer the previous question, you offer a safe answer, 

“No one tells me much of anything, so I’m afraid I don’t know their reasons. But I could venture a guess.” 

A truer answer would be that love for a daughter doomed the Greens, while a daughter’s love granted victory to the Blacks. That in refusing to marry Helaena either to Aegon -to give him heirs, to secure his claim as your mother secured hers- or to someone else -a royal womb, a wife in exchange for an army, for another House sworn to their cause-, Alicent accepted defeat. That in betraying who you were -who you might have been- to allow for the most useful lie to wear your face as if truth, in chasing that safety you believed you would achieve by turning the Realm to your cause, you helped Rhaenyra win her war. 

Aegon turns his head to look at the dimming flames of the hearth, a furrow between his brows. 

“They refused before.” 

“Helaena would have been sent to Driftmark were she to marry Jace, y-…” 

“I don’t mean them,” He interrupts. He doesn’t look at you still, finding the dying embers apparently fascinating. His hands twitch, much like his sister’s did before, opening and closing, as if needing to release nervous energy. “I mean you and me. I asked, my mother refused.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip, as it does when Vermithor makes a vertical ascent into the clouds. No, not quite like that. It feels more like when he just narrowly avoids a crash against a cliff face when speeding through the clouds over the Stormlands. It feels like that faint moment when Vermithor loses his footing on unstable ground and fails to land. 

“What? When?” 

“After you left,” He replies. He ventures to look at you, only briefly, and at your questioning look Aegon shrugs and explains, “You wanted to stay.” 

That isn’t the explanation he seems to think it is, but doesn’t seem inclined to clarify any further. And you aren’t sure you want him to, because an echo of a promise you once made -when you were younger, and the world was smaller- is getting louder. 

Instead of asking anything else, you remind him, and yourself, of the war that loomed over this family.  

“When we left, Aemond didn’t have Vhagar, and my bond with Vermithor was too new. Now…there haven’t been so many grown dragons with riders since King Jaehaerys’ reign,” You point out. “Your mother understands now, as I hope the rest do, that if a war for the Iron Throne is to be waged, there will be naught but ash and charred stone to rule over once it’s won. Destruction is assured, mutual destruction.” 

“And you are here as…what? A sacrificial lamb to prevent bloodshed?” 

You look at him, and with more impulsivity than you should allow yourself, you answer plainly, 

“Baaa,” Dumbfounded, Aegon blinks, once, twice, before a smile lights up his expression. His shoulders shake lightly with laughter, and you find yourself smiling in kind. And relentless, like a weed you couldn’t pull from its root and now regrows, is that impulse from your youth, that familiar warmth in your chest and in your cheeks at being the one to make him laugh. “I gather it depends on who you ask. I’m sure many would see me a herald of doom and not a sacrificial goat.” 

“Lamb,” He corrects, pointlessly, aimlessly. Silence lingers, and a few breaths after, he presses, “Is that why you are here, then? For…for the future of the family? You didn’t want to leave in the first place. I thought…” 

When it seems he cares not to continue his sentence, you clarify, 

“It was once my home, it’s true, but I…no longer recognize it,” You admit, with more honesty than you should allow yourself, perhaps. From your window you can see the Dragonpit. When you were children you would go there so often, and though the trip had to be made on carriage, in between jests and games, or sleeping in your mother’s lap, it seemed such a quick trip, such a short distance. “It all seemed so much smaller, before. Easier.” 

You shake yourself from this foolish nostalgia, and return your attention to the present, to the inside of this room. You return your attention, and your gaze, to Aegon, who still stands there, almost awkwardly, in the middle of the room. 

“Wine?” He asks, faintly moving back and forth on the balls of his feet, a jarringly nervous, almost childish, gesture. You do not understand the part of you that finds it endearing. 

“No, thank you.” 

“I would like some.” He states, but makes no move to pour himself a glass. Instead, he merely looks at you, expectant, eyebrows raised and smile a taunt. 

With a deep breath, refusing to let him anger you as easily as he would when you were younger, you acquiesce, and turn your back to pour him a cup of wine. 

“I-…They told me you wanted me,” Aegon confesses, the last two words stumbling on an eager tongue. You keep your attention on pouring the wine, and keep your back turned to him, somehow knowing it is while you aren’t looking that he speaks freely. “I was told you chose me.” 

You finish pouring a cup -and one for yourself, for you gather this won’t be an easy conversation-, and turn to face him. Aegon stands tall, head held high, and yet you look at him and think only of someone trying to hide, itching to curl in on themselves, make themselves smaller. 

His expression struggles for the same control he demands from his body, eyes guarded, jaw set tight.  

Not unlike the first time you approached Vermithor, you find yourself waiting for his next move, awaiting a signal to follow, an opening for you to act. 

And yet he doesn’t move. You aren’t sure if he is expecting you to, but regardless, you follow his example and hold your ground. Extending your arm, you offer the drink, but he makes no move to accept it. 

“Was it a lie?” Aegon asks, quietly. 

Something within you is begging you to admit the truth, to say yes. A part of you wishes to risk ruin the very purpose you serve being here, bring forth further division if you must; if that means getting to start the life that begins once you marry with no lies, with your true face. 

But you have been a liar far longer than you have been anything else. You weren’t allowed to train with a sword and shield, you have been sent to roam unfamiliar halls and live with unfamiliar faces, you have been parted from your protector as Vermithor retreats to the outskirts of the city. You are alone, with no weapon and no dragon. 

You have nothing but teeth and nails and lies, and you have no choice but to put them to use. 

“No, it was not a lie,” You tell him, and the surprise he doesn’t bother to hide, the flickering vulnerability you doubt he could hide even if he wanted, that part his lips for a breath and bring a momentary tremble to this brow; they make that part of you wish to offer an apology. The closest you can offer to one is a half-truth, “If I am to marry, I would have it be you I take as a husband.” 

And in the blink of an eye, Aegon retreats, cautious again. It feels entirely too close to failure, to deficiency, to let him take from you your advantage like this, because you let a face you don’t wear any longer decide on the words to leave your lips. 

Petulant, he corrects, “That isn’t what I asked.” 

And now he does approach, taking the goblet from your outstretched hand and downing half the wine in one gulp. You follow him with your gaze as he walks past you to sit in one of the lounges by the hearth. 

“Is it not enough?” 

He answers with a smile, somewhere between bitter and resigned. The smile hasn’t yet fully curved at his lips when it has already fallen leaving in place an expression torn somewhere between uncertainty and a reckless kind of longing. 

You are a Velaryon in name alone, this everyone knows. You are not salt and sea, but even you know the mightiest of vessels can be brought down to the depths by a single crack, a single leak -a single leak, that allows the ocean a way in, a way to reclaim what it deems hers-. Perhaps that is why it is so easy for you then, to take a step back, the beginnings of a frown furrowing at your brow, the faintest movement of your head as you deny his unspoken admission, as you refuse hearing the ever-louder echo of a past long gone. 

You were barely more than children, with no understanding of the world or what it would ask of you -of either of you-, when you made the foolish promises you did. It was a folly of youth, and while nostalgia does often cloud your gaze and leaves a faint stinging in your eyes in its wake, you understand, as he should, as he must, that that is all it was. 

But doubt creeps in, saltwater through a crack in the hull of a ship, for you understand now, that whatever you had and forsaken, whatever you have made yourself forget, Aegon has kept, and remembered. 

How could he, after all this time? How dare he, after all that has and all that hasn’t happened? 

You once were naïve enough to think love might prevail over war, but you knew nothing of either. Now, you know better, now you see things as they are, as they were. 

And still, something like regret pulls at your chest, something like a dead hope digs under your skin. Foolish, reckless. You tell yourself to take another step back, but you cannot move. 

But before you can forget yourself, before you let echoes guide your actions or your voice, Aegon turns away, a humorless and quiet chuckle leaving his lips, his gaze for a moment falling to the cup of wine in his hand before gazing upon the quiet flames of the hearth. 

“It is preferable to the alternative, I suppose. My mother wouldn’t forgive me if they had to have my betrothed dragged to the Sept against her will.” 

What is expected, what is needed to get the upper hand, is to offer comfort, empty if it must be, that no woman would have to be forced into a marriage with a Targaryen Prince such as him, that the mere idea of a woman not being delighted to be his wife seems impossible to you. A lie, a false promise, anything. 

And yet you cannot speak, you cannot move. You will tell yourself later that you were observing, as Lady Mysaria so often reminds you to do while at court. 

As if by instinct, an instinct older than your oldest one -you feel robbed of all you learned since you left this place, for a moment, stripped of every instinct your exile imposed upon you and every mask you learned to wear since leaving-, you recite a lesson,  

“Betrothals are sacred, in the eyes of any of the Gods. Any daughter, any loyal daughter, would sooner die than dishonor one.” 

A groan answers your words, mocking. 

“Don’t you tire of it?” Aegon asks, drawing you away from your own thoughts that seem intent on chasing themselves in circles. His head tilts to the side as he considers you and your silence, before he answers his own question with a humorless scoff. “But there’s no reason you would, really. It has always come easy to you, you just-…it’s easy for you.” 

“What is?” 

“Perfection,” He blurts out, before shrugging one shoulder defensively. He takes yet another sip of wine, and seems to laugh at a joke only he hears before he says, “The Realm’s Delight’s first and only daughter, as Valyrian as the ones in the histories. Rider of a dragon second only to Vhagar. So famed for your grace and beauty you might as well be the Maiden herself.” 

Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow. 

“Is this your attempt at an insult?” 

“In all these years, not one story about a mistake. Not once I heard about you stepping out of line.” 

“Court gossip rarely cares about daughters. I was never relevant enough to be gossiped about.” 

“You are your mother’s heir. If she ascends the throne, you are to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms after her,” He insists, lifting a finger off the goblet to aim it in your direction in accusation. At your answering silence, Aegon smiles, humorless and a tad mad, and after a sip from his drink starts again, “If she doesn’t, you still might be, now that you are to be my wife.” 

“You speak of treas-…” 

He interrupts you with an exasperated groan, letting his head lull backwards on the chair.  

“Oh, don’t start. You shouldn’t take me seriously,” He advises, lifting the cup in a mock toast to his self-pity before adding, “No one does.” 

“Yet many would have you and not my mother sit the Iron Throne.” You admit, not thinking twice about walking to the hearth and taking the seat by his.  

In your mind lingers the thought, the reprimand, that you should know better than to do this, to say this. With lies and charm you’ve learned over time to loosen people’s defenses, to bring forth truth from them, and it does not surprise you that Aegon makes it frighteningly easy, still driven by a reckless kind of honestly -or a helpless one perhaps, truths escaping him like sand between his fingers-, still leaving himself exposed. And you should know better than to allow him to bring forth in you the same kind of carelessness. 

You keep your attention on the flickering flames, and notice out of the corner of your eye that he has seemed to move closer and is watching you with some strange glint in his eyes. You turn your head to look at him, a question written in your own gaze. 

He motions you closer, as if about to tell you a secret, and foolishly, you oblige. 

“It’s because my cock is bigger than your mother’s.” 

You lean back with a scoff that he only grins at. That, that is entirely becoming of the boy you remember from your youth. 

“By the Gods.” You mutter, false disgust attempting to mask something childish, something like laughter. He leans back, stupidly proud at having caught you off-guard, and you furrow your lips to hide a smile. 

“You still make the same face when you get ruffled.” 

“I do not get ruffled,” You argue, “I am merely appalled at your…your vulgarity.” 

He shrugs. 

“You let me in.” 

“I-…shut up.” 

He laughs again, and you shake your head, looking away. 

“Do you wish for me to leave?” He asks, and something gives you certainty that he will obey if you say you do. Which you should, for it is beyond inappropriate for a maiden to allow a man into her private apartments, not to mention unbecoming of your mother’s heir to wish for the company of the largest threat to her claim. 

You cannot tell the truth, duty binds your lips with precise stitching; but you cannot lie, for in the quiet of it all the world seems smaller again, easier to handle. 

And for those few breaths of silence, you think this is the most honest you’ve been tonight. 

When you first arrived in Dragonstone, it was to you as wild and foreign as it must have been for your ancestors when they first reached the island; and like them, you too were escaping, fleeing from what you were promised was certain doom. 

You were asked to call that place home, and yet you were not taught the layout of the castle or its surroundings, you were not taken sailing between Dragonstone and Driftmark by Laenor as your brothers were, you were not shown the path into the Dragonmont and into Vermithor’s lair, no. You were asked to call that place home, but Lady Mysaria sat with you on that balcony that looks in the direction of King’s Landing -on that same spot where you said goodbye to her a mere day ago-, and she told you that a home is a lie and a heart a shackle, and she promised to teach you to survive as a woman in a world of men. 

You were taught to lie, to mask what you felt and what you thought, and to offer instead of the truth what was most agreeable, most useful. It was an easy lesson to assimilate, almost an instinct you were merely reminded of and not taught, and you dread to think of what that makes of you. 

What was most useful then, what kept you safe then, what was needed from you then, was being a loyal daughter, with no ties to anywhere beyond her mother’s home, with no bond to anyone beyond the safety of her family. And so that is what you became. 

You made yourself forget the world and the life that was before, the girl you adored and the boy that in another life you might have loved. More importantly, perhaps, you made yourself forget what could have been, what would never be. 

You could not, not entirely, because there’s a box of dead bugs in your room that you meant to send to Helaena and yet you never did, and there’s a feeling you weren’t allowed to voice but you couldn’t swallow, and so some words remained stuck in your throat for over three years; but you tried. 

You tried, you tried with everything that you are to forget about it all, to believe the tales you told others about the fickleness of youth, but now you’re back here and memories are not so easy to push away -and there’s a napkin dragon in your shelf and warmth in your chest as you sit beside Aegon-, and the words unsaid tighten your throat at each lie you attempt to tell, each mask you attempt to wear. 

But there’s safety in the lies, in the masks. Anywhere in the world, be it Dragonstone or the seat of some House or another, you can wear a mask. Anywhere in the world, alone or surrounded, you can protect yourself with lies. 

And you cling to them, even now, especially now. 

“I-…you should leave,” You say, but then remind yourself that there is no room for mistakes. For half-truths, or half-lies. So you correct yourself, “I want you to leave.” 

To your surprise, and to the dismay of a part of you the long night and the even longer absence make difficult to force down now, he obeys. 

___ 

It is only you, the Queen, and her handmaidens in the room as you sit together for tea, and you are eyeing the window behind her as Alicent attempts to entertain you with talk about the wedding preparations. That the guests from the Reach are to arrive earlier than expected, that the Lord Hand has called for a septon from Oldtown to perform the rites, that the eldest son of Lord Tyrell has sent you a crate of hippocras as a betrothal gift. 

You can only sit in silence and listen, listen and linger in the realization, horrifying and painful, that these celebrations are months in the planning. The realization that while you were travelling the realm in service of your House and your mother, foolishly believing you were free to choose a husband or not choose one at all, your choices were being stolen from you. 

“I was younger than you when I married,” The Queen comments. “I would have never imagined you would remain unmarried for so long.” 

You care not for polite conversation, nor any games. With a deep breath, you finally take your eyes off that window and blurt out,  

“You advised me and Helaena, when we were children, that if the men were to ever come to take us away, we should ask our dragons to unleash dragonfire on them, or on ourselves,” There’s something quite close to horror in her expression, in her widened eyes and parted lips, when she looks upon you. “Does it truly surprise you, that we understand the…the gravity of marriage?” 

The Queen is quiet for a few breaths, returning her attention to her plate and busying herself and her hands by cutting open a biscuit. The silence is starting to become uncomfortable when the Queen clears her throat and speaks again, voice tight, hoarse, “You remember.” 

“Should I not, Your Grace?” 

She scarred you, with her grief, her grief for two girls that weren’t yet dead, that hadn’t gotten yet a chance to be alive. She scarred you and in doing so she taught you; she taught you much more than your mother ever could.  

Many times, Rhaenyra spoke with you about the life and death of her mother, and what fear she had for motherhood, how it was for many years a death sentence in her eyes. But her admissions were always followed by a soft, loving smile, by her hand grasping at yours, and the promise that her fears pale in the love she has for you and your brothers. 

Alicent never made such promises, such assurances. 

“I was…not myself. You needn’t heed the advice I gave that night.” 

She was drunk, and tired, and angry; but neither of those things made her any less herself, nor her words any less honest. Of course, she won’t admit that.  

You want to call her out on her lie, for you remember that night, and you remember well. You remember that when you told her you had no dragon, for Vermithor was still asleep and unknown to you and the egg placed in your cradle never hatched, Alicent merely looked at you with rage and sorrow over a decade old and replied, neither did I.  

You were children, you were foolish and naïve children, and the next morning Helaena asked for you to accompany her to the Dragonpit, and tried to explain to Dreamfyre why she had to obey you if you ever came to her and commanded dracarys. 

“It was advice I valued then and now.” You admit, finding her gaze and offering the faintest of smiles. 

“It…gladdens me to hear that then, Princess.” 

“Advice my aunt must value as well, for she remains unmarried.” 

It is a provocation, and a careless one at that. You knew that before you voiced it, but you trusted the Queen not to falter. And she does not disappoint. 

She drops the knife, and the noise of it hitting the plate rings in your ears. For a moment gone as quickly as it began, as if a compulsion she has tried to bury, the Queen lets her nails dig at the skin of her thumbs. 

“I resented my husband, for many years, for allowing his daughter the liberties he did, for turning a blind eye the way he did,” She admits, and there’s that tone in her voice again, the tone of that night, tangled in anger and helplessness and regret. Now there’s shame, in the bow of her head, in the restless movements of her fingers. “And yet…my girl, I couldn’t-…” 

“I would venture to guess many have vied for her hand in these passing years?” 

“My father would have her married and shipped off somewhere far in exchange for an alliance, but…she wishes not to,” She looks at you then, lifts her warm gaze to yours. You’ve seen that look in your mother’s eyes before, you’ve seen it in Mysaria’s, in Rhaenys’. You realize now, with horrifying certainty, how fortunate you are that you haven’t seen that look in Baela’s or Rhaena’s eyes, or in Helaena’s. Alicent gestures with her hand aimlessly, to the nothing and the everything around you. “What use is there for all this, for any of it, if I cannot protect her?” 

“I cannot speak on a mother’s duty or choices,” You say, and though you wish it would, it is not a mask like the one you presented to your grandsire last night, telling him what he wants to hear while you grit your teeth at what leaves your lips, no. It is the closest to truth you can offer. “But I am very glad to see her contented, happy even.” 

The closest to truth you can offer, without revealing something wrong, something rotten. Like envy, like jealousy. 

But you gather the Queen hears it regardless, for she sighs, and adds, “Which she achieved by remaining unmarried.” 

You hear the words she doesn’t say, you see something like regret in her warm eyes, and stupidly, some part of you still the child that brought a sweet pastry to the Queen after finding her heaving panicked breaths and paler than a ghost, you want to reassure her, to accept the apology she doesn’t voice. 

But Alicent starts again, composed again, distant again, 

“You are a woman grown now. I trust in time you will learn to…handle Aegon, guide him. You must a-…” 

You know where this is going. You just want one conversation where you aren’t asked to do something for someone, where you aren’t reminded of what is expected from you. One. 

You stand from the table with a scoff, walking away and towards the window, “I am not a shepherd, and your son no sheep.” 

“I only mean to help you.” 

“I do not recall asking for help, Your Grace.” 

The Queen joins her hands before her, head held high, back straight. A picture of a woman’s role, a woman’s duty. You look away and instead look out the window. 

“You valued advice I gave before, and I ask you to do so again. I only mean to make this easier for you, child.” 

She doesn’t wait for an answer and knows better than to press for one. Instead she murmurs your title and your name as a goodbye, not waiting for a returned goodbye of Your Grace or a gesture of your own, before turning around and moving to leave the room. 

“You lied to him,” You blurt out, an accusation you are risking much if it ends up being wrong. When the Queen turns to look at you, you force yourself to hold your place, force your hands to remain in place even when you want to cross your arms, force your eyes to look at her even though a part of you fears her. You push on, “You told Aegon I wanted to marry him.” 

Alicent takes a breath, and says nothing for a few beats, expression carefully flat as she regards you. 

“Did you admit to him that it was a lie?” 

“No.” 

The only give she allows is the slight widening of her eyes, surprise but not quite. A breath, two, and the Queen bows her head in goodbye again, though now at her lips curves a smile. Sad, as all her smiles are, but a little defiant also. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

Though she admitted a little bit to what her stance in regards to the marriage is, the aspect of the lying and especially the lie about choosing him are still the point of this story, and will develop further in the upcoming chapters.

Next Chapter >>

Taglist: @21-princess @mrs-starkgaryen @nymeriiiia

[murdrdocs]

singular thought got me finna lock my coochie away in a cage (she growled at me) but the early 2000s were such golden years for sex toys, specifically vibrators; the slim ones-- i don't remember seeing wands until later but all i could think about is mike, the open minded sweetheart who's willing to try anything once for his girl, sprawled out in front of you, kiss swollen lips, a sheen of sweat covering him already as you run the vibe up and down his body, getting him accustomed to the 'foreign' item. telling him you're gonna turn it on and pressing it right under the head of his cock-- his sweet spot. Watching him surge to life; his legs curling towards his chest, fist clentched in the sheets, eyes shooting open as his hips jump-- he's so overwhelmed with pleasure he can't tell if he's trying to move closer or further away but you see how they follow as you slowly pull the toy back-- a whimpered half-broken "fuck" falling from his lips as he stares at you like you put the universe together just to ruin him--

hhhhhh I just need to eat him whole and then I'll be sane again.

eyeeeee ???? EYEEEE???

i've tried to add to this but i have nothing to say. like you're too good. this is too good. it can't collect dust in my inbox everyone come look

(making me think abt cock rings now 😔 )

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

sooo.. what was the aftermath w king soma?*flutters invisible lashes desperately*

Yandere! Male! King x Gn! Spy! Reader part 2

Same warnings as the first part. This one is short!

Tw/notes: rape, coercion, mind break, impreg, a/b/o for non-fem reader, soft nsfw/lime, Queen in this case is gender neutral

How many days has it been since you got caught by Soma?

You watched as the sun sets and the moon rises, and vice versa over and over again by how much time passed inside your luxury cage.

Every night, Soma would come in and fuck you senseless, like a wild animal driven from lust and anger.

But there are also times where he weeps and cries on your lap, begging for you to love him as you took in his "love".

Every day was suffering, and every day was a chance slipped by to escape from his thorny grasps.

As the king, Soma knew you can't escape his clutches that easily. Despite being a spy of the Empire, you were dropped by Emperor Callisto once he knew that you were caught.

As a courtesy too, he won't attack the kingdom since Callisto got the information he wanted, and fled to raise hell to other cities/towns/kingdoms.

You mindlessly wandered around the room, getting antsy and restless from the unchanging environment you're in.

You want out, you want to get out of here.

"My Queen." A voice emitted out from the rumpled bed sheets, being illuminated by the sun rays of dawn. "You're awake."

Soma sat up, yawning. His chiseled visage of what was once perfection in your eyes, but now a portrait of a monster long gone faced you.

"you're not thinking of escaping, are you?" His voice, laced with anger yet a twinge of fear wafted through the air and into your ear, making you shiver.

You shook your head.

You can't even get the windows to open. It felt so suffocating.

Betrayed by your Emperor, and imprisoned to abuse by your King. You're not winning in life at all as Soma got off the bed, naked and approaching you.

"it's cold, my queen. You're only wearing thin garments, you need to warm up." His sultry voice, now filling with lust again, is making you groan inwardly. This man's stamina is something.

As he put a robe on your frame, he can't help but hungrily look down at your belly.

Your 5 month old pregnant belly.

Yes, you've been imprisoned for half a year now. With Soma making sure to impregnate you to make sure you know who you belong to.

Looking down at your stomach, you gulped a bit and wondered what your life is going to be with child.

Also, the fact that you retreated to the back of your mind shouts warnings to your body, wanting to escape at all.

But without your primary consciousness on the forefront, all your body could do was move to the window longingly. An instinct to run freely, and out of Soma's grasp.

Soma relished in this new you. Only letting your body speak, and your lips singing sweet melodies of your moans and whimpers.

But sometimes, he missed your spice, your anger and rage.

But most of all, he wants you to be fully his. Not just body, but mind and soul.

Soma kneeled in front of you, kissing your hands and looking at you with such love and care.

What a hypocrite.

"I will bring you back, my Queen." He whispered. "I want you to be mine completely. So come out of your mind, my love. Don't be afraid."

He coaxed you gently, nudging you while rubbing his cheeks on your palm.

And he smirks as he saw your pupils tremble.

Just a bit more.

Just a scoot, and you will be back.

"You'll be back. Soon you'll see..." He whispers, a promise left on his lips spoken on a threat and love. "You'll remember you belong to me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LMAO SORRY I CAN'T HELP IT I NEED TO INSERT THE LAST LINE.

I went back to my Hamilton brain rot after all 😔

[sniigura-archive]

Adam x Reader x Mammon AU anon again.

You: You should be writing fic instead of me anon!

Also You: *Expands upon my idea in ways I didn't think of and once again proving to me you're an amazing writer <3*

READER GETTING PREGNANT TERTGDFTHYFGTHFV YESSSSS

I feel like Reader would refuse to find out who the father is cuz she KNOWS it would be a shitshow with these two either way (one claiming "ownership" of her and the kid and the other making her life miserable because of it), so as such Adam and Mammon are both the Dad That Stepped Up(tm).

They def fight over whether or not Reader should get an abortion early on (neither of them believe in women having agency over their bodies *sobs*). Adam's so offended cuz he doesn't believe in abortion and is like "how could you suggest murdering my baby????" and Mammon's like "it's a clump of cells and I can't have a pregnant bitch riding a pole" he needs Reader back to work asap. Reader decides on her own to keep it ONLY if they promise to not make her life hell for it (or else bye bye snu snu). Mammon begrudgingly gives her paid leave and Adam begrudgingly accepts that Reader is keeping her job.

When the baby comes the men def both spoil the shit out of them. Adam happily offers to babysit/help out with anything no questions asked, Mammon gives Reader all the money she needs and more for the baby and buying the kid all the best toys and clothes. Reader has the main authority on how the kid will be raised (she does not want her kid to end up like either of them lmao) and the boys just gotta accept it like Yes Ma'am.

WAHHH THANK UU but if you ever need help to like brain storm stuff for a fanfic im your man my dms are always open for that i love going through ideas so much RAHHH

mammon: i can’t have a pregnant bitch riding the pole

adam: why not? pregnant bitches are hot as fuck

reader fighting off pregnancy nausea: can you both leave now pls

reader is so done with these sexists guys 😭 she’s aware that technically she doesn’t need them and she can just leave for another city. she has made enough good financial decisions to make her be able to live a comfortable life with her child with no problems

reader says neither of them will be the father and then they’re like „who else were you fucking 🤨🤨🤨“ NO ONE YOURE JUSZ ANNOYING!!!! reader is lucky the baby is her carbon copy other wise both of them would throw hands with each other

adam probably says it’s his since she has been with mammon for longer and all it takes is one night with him to get knocked up because he’s just that good

i think it’d be interesting once reader is too far along to continue working at the club if that’s when glitz and glam make an appearance. they really want to steal that spot of being favourites with all the benefits. they’re very willing to fill in all the spots. mammon considers it for a hot sec but then he visits reader and is pissed the fuck off that he actually genuinely likes reader. the realisation hits him like a truck

adam and mammon refuse to acknowledge that they’re basically in a poly relationship now with you. they get along surprisingly well as long as the topic isn’t you and the baby. as soon as it’s about you and the baby they remember they are Sworn Enemies

but it also gets very annoying for reader when they agree on something because they’re soo stubborn 😭 poor woman. should have moved away lmaoo

THEM AS DADS!!! precious as fuck. imagine if it’s a girl shishsjs girl dads…….little girl who looks like reader so she has wrapped them around her finger. who can say no to such a cute face 😔

[l-norris]

This is it - the last race before the summer break (thank fuck, God knows we all need it) is underway, and I have once again decided to bless your feed with my random yapping about what happens in the race :)

Have fun!

DISCLAIMER: Remember that this is just for shits and giggles, I'm not trying to actually hate on any of the drivers cuz all (most) of them are very dear to me!

As always: Numbers in brackets = lap number

- I stopped building my Lego Mercedes for this

- Formation lap starts

- Almost everyone is on Mediums

- it's not raining for once btw

- Sunny day in Belgium, what a shocker.

- Yuki 60 place grid penalty

- Mans is starting from Hungary

- Max 10 place grid penalty

- It's lights out and away we go!

- Lando bottled the start pt. idk (boy pls😭)

- George and Alex go wide

- I think Hungary damaged McLaren as a whole😔

- Went from a top contender team to a middle field team in a matter of days😨

- Charles is still first

- Max is already in 8th

- Behind Lando

- I am in despair

- Alex noted for leaving the track and gaining an advantage (2)

- Lewis overtakes Charles (3)

- Now leads the race

- Guanyu has no power (3)

- "He is destined for another race of misery" BROTHER😭

- Calling it now Max will win the race.

- "This might be a strategic masterplan of Ferrari" Crofty please don't lie to yourself

- Guanyu got the car running again

- "Something is moving down by my legs"

- Okay Lewis

- sounds familiar

- Guanyu retires (7)

- Hulk pits (8)

- Alex, Danny and Logan pit (9)

- Lewis is told to lift and coast

- Pierre pits (10)

- DRS train without Fernando... how weird

- Max and George pit (11)

- Mum pick me up I'm scared

- So many people pit (12)

- Including Lewis, Oscar, Valtteri and Checo

- Ferrari strategists bottling it once again

- Lewis almost crashes into Oscar in the pitlane omg (13)

- Oscar fastest lap (14)

- "Straight line speed is a fucking joke"

- Duh Lance, you're driving a fucking Aston Martin. The hell do you expect?

- Lando pits (15)

- Carlos in the gravel

- French civil war reenactment (Esteban overtakes Pierre)

- "Don't worry about it, Lando."

- War flashbacks

- He did, in fact, need to worry about it.

- Oh btw Carlos leads the race (19)

- I keep mixing up Alpines special liveries with Haas

- Anyone else? No? Just me? Okay.

- Checo parks the bus to keep George in front of Max LOL

- Carlos FINALLY pits (20)

- Alpines are faster than Aston Martin🫣

- Ferrari try a 1-stop...?? What the hell??

- George finally passes Checo (21)

- Max now behind his teammate

- Checo pits...? (22)

- indirect teamorders mayhaps?

- Lando in Max' DRS window

- "We are very slow on the straights"

- No Checo that's just you🙏🏻

- Lando is NOT catching up to Max (24)

- I'm praying for another Miami atp

- Ferrari fuck Charles' pitstop (25)

- Lewis pits (26)

- What was that camera angle on Lewis' pitstop😵‍💫

- Oscar leads for now (27)

- "Beware the quiet man" So true Crofty

- Carlos pits again (29)

- Do you reckon Oscar can bring it home in a one-stop?

- Lando pits (29)

- teamorders @ redbull

- Oscar pits (30)

- and hits the jackman🫣

- Lando overtakes Checo easily (31)

- George is really doing a one-stop

- Madman

- It's getting spicy between Max and Lando

- Nevermind, Max started pushing

- The fact he wasn't even pushing... yikes

- Oscar fights Charles for P3

- AND HE DOES IT! (35)

- Amazing move from Oscar here

- Danny Ric is in the points! I repeat! Danny Ric is in the points!

- Carlos overtakes Checo (39)

- That's embarrassing🫣

- Lewis in DRS window of George (41)

- it's getting exciting towards the end

- Checo pits?? (43)

- Final lap!

- OSCAR IN DRS WINDOW

- That mf really did it - he won on a one stop

- MERCEDES 1-2

- OSCAR P3

- WOWOWOWOW

- Also on a side note Checo finished P8

- So who's in the second Red Bull after summer break?

- Place your bets here!

- Anyways

- This was so fucking stressful

- but so exciting all the same.

- Onto the summer break (thank fuck)

- After the race, George's car was found to be a few kgs lighter than regulations state it needs to be.

🚨POST RACE BREAKING NEWS🚨

- 7pm local time: it has been confirmed - George Russell has been disqualified from the Belgian GP.

- George is facing a possible DSQ due to this.

- All of this came about at approx. 6:30 pm local time and is being investigated.

- This is the worst day of my life

- Well... after all that happened we sure as fuck need a break. A long one.

... Holy moly. That one was an emotional rollercoaster. And just after I said we need the summer break desperately. I really enjoyed the race (except for the whole George DSQ thing) but at the same I can't be more happy about summer break after these last two races😵‍💫

Have a nice summer break everyone, hope to see you even in the off-time occasionally!

[whirlwindimagines]

Hey! <3 it's me again, the anon who requested the scenary of Wolfwood sister x Vash. Thank you sooooo much for taking my request, it made my day! <3

I'm writing again to request you for another scenario if it's not too much trouble 👉🏻👈🏻 and instead of being something romantic, it would be more like a family reunion.

The scenario would be with Vash reuniting with his sister (that would mean that instead of just Vash and Knives, in this scenario it would be Vash, Knives and reader, that means, they're triplets) who he believed to be dead since the Big Fall. How would he react upon finding her and realizing that the little girl he protected and cared for when he was a child was now a full grown woman who knew how to fight and shoot and that all kind of stuff?

I also thought that this scenario would be set in chapter 9 when Vash wakes up on "Home".

I hope all of this makes enough sense 👉🏻👈🏻😔 again, thank you so much for taking my "Wolfwood sister x Vash" request! I loved it! Hope you day is going well! See ya! 💕✨

I’m glad you enjoyed your previous request! I had fun writing it, and I had fun writing this one as well lol this one got away from me, I just kept adding to it and adding to it. Might make a part two with Nai if anyone's interested :) Also spoilers I guess? Also, i'm sorry but the twins with a sister screams the song Hey Brother by Avicii

‘Oh if the sky comes falling down’ 

Vash x Sister!Reader 

You are pacing, you have been for a while now after all this time you thought you’d be a little braver. But it's like you’re that little girl again, scared and always crying and needing to run to your big brothers at the slightest inconvenience.

But it’s been decades now, and you haven’t had the privilege of doing that since before the fall. You remember it like it was yesterday, Rem, the escape pod, and then the desert. You were separated from Nai and Vash at that point. Waking up in the desert alone, everything on fire, you just ran unsure of what to do and where to go. 

You were more like Nai in the regard you didn’t need much to survive, so you wandered everywhere and anywhere with no real purpose, no goals only memories…

You were hiding, sometimes the ship seemed so cold. You didn’t want Nai and Vash to see you crying, it was pathetic! And not even for a good reason, wiping your eyes and sighing you feel all cried out. Someone calls your name, Vash you realize. Wiping your eyes harshly, you stand taking in deep breaths, before answering. 

Vash comes flying around the corner his face lighting up when he sees you, but then he frowns looking at your face. You try to smile but it’s a little watery. “Are you okay?” You nod not trusting your voice, Vash sighs and grabs you by the arm to pull you along.

You start to protest, but you close your mouth at the sound of a piano playing. Your face lights up as Vash pulls you into the room where Nai is playing, he was the best at piano out of the three of you. 

Pulling from Vash’s grip, you move forward to join Nai. He makes room for you on the bench but rolls his eyes at Vash as he pushes you into himself to make room for the three of you. You laugh then, content to sit between them and listen to them both play. 

Nai nudges you, and with some encouragement from Vash, you join in. The piano was not meant for three people to play at once, so it was more of a mess of notes as the three of you stumble over each other's hands. You feel much better now, and don’t notice the look Vash and Nai share over your head. 

You are pulled from the memory when a gentle hand rest on your shoulder, and turning to see Luidas smiling face. “He’s awake.” You thank her, watching her walk away, once she’s out of sight you sigh leaning against the wall and sliding down it to sit.

It was still surreal being here on this mostly operating SEED ship, staying here you could pretend the fall never happened, that you grew up here safe and happy. But you didn’t and you happened upon this ship by pure accident. 

Your luck it seemed had finally run out; you don’t know how many weeks you’d been going for at this point when you collapsed out in the dunes. When you came to you all you could feel was panic because there was no way you were on a SEED ship, you looked the same you were still grown you had all your things it just wasn’t possible. 

Luida knew what you were the instant she met you, it was odd and, in a way, comforting for someone to know your secret. She showed you then some old photographs, and well you simply couldn’t believe it, “That’s Vash.” You said voice slightly awed; she sat down next to you watching you with a soft smile. “Your y/n, he’s mentioned you before, well he thought you were…” she trails off, not having to say it because you thought the same of them. Nai isn’t in any of the photos, and you are simply not brave enough to ask. 

You stand now shaking your head, living in the past wasn’t an option right now. Vash was alive and here right on the other side of that door all you had to do was walk towards it. With a deep breath, you enter he’s sitting up on the bed messing with his arm. He doesn’t say anything, he probably thinks you are one of his friends that you came with. The group you’ve been avoiding for the most part. 

He looks different, older you’re sure you do too. You don’t know what to say, “Vash?” His name you cringe at your watery tone, not expecting to already be crying. He looks up surprised, your eyes meet and his jaw drops. You jump when he stands suddenly, he takes a step forward, stops, and says your name. 

You sob then, moving forward and throwing your arms around him, you’re just crying because you can’t believe it. He’s here, he’s alive and you don’t have to be alone anymore. Your big brother standing right before you, the tears just kept coming. You had made a vow to yourself that you'd no longer be weak and that you wouldn't cry all the time. But none of that mattered, besides you think this was a pretty good reason to cry.

Vash is too stunned to move because it’s you, his baby sister, alive you look different, your older that’s obvious but it’s in your face less alive, less joyful like you haven’t smiled in a long time. He doesn't understand how you are here, on this ship. Home. He wants to ask and needs to know what you’ve been doing all this time. Where have you been? How have you survived? You were the youngest, but you were in Nai's words closer to perfect than he was.

But Vash doesnt ask, he can't even speak, instead, he wraps his arms around you and cries. 

He pushes you back gently to look at your face, “your alive.” It’s the only thing he can say, “so are you.” You choke out, and you look away scared to ask but you have to know. “What about Nai?” You feel him tense, “it’s complicated.” He whispers, leading you over to the bed so the two of you can sit side by side.

You're confused, but let him continue. Vash begins to tell you what he’s been doing all this time, you doubt he’s telling you the whole truth and probably doesn’t want to share the gory details. You let out a ‘huff’ you’re sure no matter how long you’ve been alive he’ll always treat you like a baby sister. But you don’t interrupt, then he begins telling you about Nai. 

Eyes wide you simply can’t believe it, you are not naive you’ve heard strange rumors, hell you’ve seen some strange things as well. But all this death and destruction… was Nai really capable of that? You want to deny it, but you know Vash isn’t lying he would never lie to you. You sigh leaning your head on his shoulder, “well I’m here now, will figure it out together.” 

“Together?” Vash asks with a small voice, you smile “yeah, oh you’re not getting rid of me any time soon. We’re a family, and we have to stick together.” You say it’s a little childish, but you think you deserve to think a little childishly right now. You feel Vash begin to pull away, but you grab his arm not letting him get too far.

“It’s too dangerous, it’s best if you stay here.” You roll your eyes, and you give him a look. “Seriously? So, you think I’ve been holed up in a cave all these years? I’ve been out there surviving all these years by myself!” Your tone is bitter and he flinches, you soften. It’s not his fault, everything had been so chaotic after the fall, “please don’t treat me like a kid, I’m not that little girl anymore.” And you mean if you were not able to be her anymore, not since the fall. 

Vash looks at you really looks at you, and he knows your right. He sighs, “I don’t think I’d be able to stop you anyway.” He says with a laugh, you smile. Right now, everything was perfect, and while your family would never be complete not truly, it still hurt to think of Rem, and thinking of Nai was also painful. But for right, you’d hold on to this happiness and wouldn’t let go.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Life’s Purpose | Elrond x Reader

read on ao3

pairing: Elrond x (female) Reader

summary: Your beloved pet cat is unfortunately coming to the end of his life. Elrond finds you in the garden and offers you some comfort.

content warning: pet loss, grief, depression, suicidal thoughts.

a/n: forgive me for this because it is the most self indulgent thing I’ve possibly ever written but I’m truly going through it at the minute with this 😔

You were sitting out in the garden on the grass. A cat was curled up asleep in your lap, snuggling up into the folds of your skirts. Tears were shining in your eyes despite the fact that you had already wiped about a hundred others away by now. It seemed to be never ending, the well of grief within you, and you didn’t understand how you hadn’t cried yourself completely dry by now. As soon as you thought you had it under control, a fresh wave would hit you and you would lose all control all over again, another round of sobs or tears bursting forth no matter how hard you tried to push them down.

The reason for your utter sorrow was that same little cat that lay there with you now, just as he had so dutifully done for the almost thirteen years that made up the sum of his precious life.

Once so strong and full of life and adventure, the little creature seemed to be growing thinner by the day, and sleeping almost all of the hours away. He was still eating and drinking some, and still purred with delight when you paid him attention, but an animal healer had told you that the tumor that was growing in his little head, somewhere right between his eyes, was untreatable.

He was coming, more quickly than you could ever wish to admit, to the very end of his days and you simply could not bear the mere thought of it.

This cat had been your constant companion through some of the worst years of your life. Where there had been naught but anguish and despair, his bright green eyes and utter adoration of you was a constant light in the darkness. Your life raft in the neverending ocean of bitterness.

And now he was leaving you and all you felt was an agony so deep and so overwhelming you did not know what to do with it. How to shoulder it.

A sound from somewhere behind you caught your attention and you quickly lifted your hand to wipe away the tears. However, you were too late to cover it as Elrond moved into view with a soft hum, immediately noting the unshed tears and the sadness shining in your eyes.

“My dear girl, whatever is the matter?” He asked gently, coming to a stop by your side. You said nothing but you did not need to as his gaze fell upon the familiar little black and white cat half hidden in your skirts. “Ah.” Elrond sighed, his expression shifting to one of sadness as he moved to ease himself down onto the grass beside you. “I see.”

He sat beside you in silence for a few long moments, lithe fingers reaching out to ruffle the fur between the cats ears. The purring was almost instant and Elrond smiled sadly as he watched the creature shift in your lap, its eyes still closed.

“Do you remember what you used to tell me?” Elrond asked softly, his attention moving from the cat back up to your face.

Sniffing, you shook your head, reaching up to catch a fresh wave of tears before they could fall, angrily wiping at your eyes in both frustration and embarrassment. “When?” You managed.

“When you used to come to my office and sit in that big chair, and tell me how unhappy you were.” He murmured, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear as he continued. “When you and I would traverse those unstable paths of your past, seeking the way that would lead you out the other side.”

You nodded because you remembered those days, of course you did. There was a time when Elrond had taken it upon himself to act as something of a therapist for you. Your past had been a rather complicated one, the journey fraught with hardship and suffering... yet you had endured - if only so that little animal would not be left alone.

Then had come Elrond’s guidance, his steady presence, and his healing words of wisdom as he had helped you navigate your depression. Your suffocating troubles eventually became something you could carry and you no longer needed to struggle through each day, treading water as you tried not to drown. You no longer yearned for the solace death might bring.

“You told me that this little creature.” Elrond went on, reaching back out towards the cat and lavishing his gentle attentions upon it once more. “Was the one thing keeping you going. The one reason you opened your eyes every single day and did not give in. The one thing that kept you alive.” His gaze lifted back to your face, studying you. “Do you recall this?”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut to try and prevent the fresh wave of tears from escaping. They did anyway, trailing down your cheeks as a sob ripped itself from your throat. You could not speak but he didn’t truly expect you to.

Elrond shifted closer and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to him. He wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Yet you no longer feel such.” He stated gently. “You no longer wish to be taken into deaths bitter embrace. You no longer wish not to live...”

He leaned away slightly and gently tilted your chin up with his fingers so that you were forced to meet his eyes. “...thus, this little soul has fulfiled his life’s very purpose. He can now go and he can rest, safe in the knowledge that you, the only thing he loved and lived for in this whole world, will be okay.”

The words undid you then as sobs completely overtook you. You fell against Elrond, pressing your face into his tunic as you wept uncontrollably, and he held you tight in his arms and simply let you cry it out for as long as you needed to.

[foxgloveinspace]

FOX!!! hello my beloved!! it has been a minute lol

i’ve been ✨going through it✨ lately lmao but i am nothing if not stubborn so i am pushing through

the one upside to the hell that is my brain at times is that it usually means i will be blessed with comfort dreams/daydreams!!!

and this time it was the sleep token boys again 🥹 and also so stupid. which was much needed lol. basically daydreamed that i went to the gym with all four of them. idfk why, i’ve never set foot in a gym, i refuse to start now, and i actively avoid guys who do go? i guess i can make an exception for the vessels lmao. anyways- they all went off to do their own things (iv focuses on lower body/legs cuz i mean hello have you seen those thighs? ii was all about arms and upper body- very good for drumming. iii was far too chaotic to stick with any specific workout so spent most of the time on the treadmill just burning energy lol) except vessel who came over to teach me how to squat with a barbell. there was a lot of banter and some mild flirting but man. that was such a nice daydream. kind of relaxing? maybe i do need to get a gym membership…

hope you’ve been well!! 😊🩶

Hihi exie!!! I’m sorry to hear you’ve been going through it🖤😔 I’ve been… ok, I haven’t been whiny about it on tumblr but I’ve been sick for like three weeks (or maybe I have been I can’t remember very well lmao) but I’m finally feeling better tho, oof. I hope things settle down for you soon!!

That is one funny dream. I really appreciate how your brain was like ‘these are the exorcizes that make since for the guys yes yes’, that is freaking amazing, lmao. Love how Vessel was like ‘ahhh, yes. Time to teach Exie some sick moves’ lmao. He didn’t even start you off simple😂😂

Me 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 III: treadmill zoomies.

(We have one in house cause my dad is diabetic, and we live in the middle of nowhere, so it was cheaper then a gym membership he wouldn’t be able to drive to. I don’t do it enough but walking on a treadmill is so good for my adhd brain. It’s weird, but a lot of adhd people talk about how exorcising even once a week makes their brain work better. Need to get in the habit of it, especially cause I want to go hiking more oof…. This was a random ramble that has nothing to do with your dream, very sorry about that).

[chromaji]

Can I see some of your unit set ups so I may judge them

I try to shuffle around members of teams every once in a while so I can be shocked when one team ends up operating like hot booty butt ass on in next battle so I have to change them around again experiment with different setups and skill combinations, keeping things pretty interesting. Basically right now my teams aren't at all my optimal ones.

But maybe now's a good time to talk about my Arena Defense team since they remain set. I like them :]

An Arrow Rain focused team, with Mikaela (Druid) running the White Cat Ears to insta-charge Delia (Shieldshooter)'s Arrow Rain. Delia has high initiative with 2 feathers so she can start charging before people start dying. Ginny (Sergeant) uses Keen Call on Delia for AoE crit of course.

For Phase 1, basically anything before Arrow Rain:

Franz (Swordmaster) & Sága (Fencer) can usually keep the team alive through various ways til then. Franz's preemptive strike may land a kill on an enemy's squishier frontliner, or he may use Phantom Blade on an Amored unit to chunk a lot of their health. Sága may activate Sylph Barrier for someone, or she and Franz may just outright dodge/parry attacks that come their way.

Then comes the Arrow Rain + Cat Ears + Keen Edge + L + Ratio, whenever it happens.

That's Phase 1, which ends a lot of fights. But not every opponent's gonna fall to an Arrow Rain. Mainly any bulky or armored units.

If Phase 2 is needed, it's usually led by Sága. Unfortunately, 6 times out of 10, Franz usually gets mixed during any post-Arrow Rain combat. I've considered putting Franz in the back row, but I worry for Delia potentially dying before Arrow Rain goes off. So sometimes we just gotta let him fall😔

Anyway, since the units alive tend to have at least 1 physically tanky unit, Sága shines with her lightning+stuns! I dont remember if she even has Nature's Wrath set up. Probably.

Thanks to Ginny's Active Gift, Sága also gets an extra point of AP. Ginny's pretty versatile as expected, so she can take out an enemy or two as well. She's even got the Flame Javelin iirc.

Delia can help against armors or magic tanks with Toxic Bolt, and help Sága get the next move with tailwind. Mikaela pulls a defense debuff so the team can really bring down whoever's left.

Since Phase 1 is pretty formulaic, here's how a Phase 2 can go:

And Delia ending the fight with Medical Aid can help the team just a bit in reaching a higher HP% than the enemy if the battle ended pretty evenly.

[murumokirby360]

RIP my HD by ~murumokirby360

Well, it's time to open some "sad of worms" once & for all before I moved on with my life. (no pun intended). Because I'm discussing another dead item... So, let's go. 😟😔

• What you see here is my 160 GB of Seagate Barracuda 7200 HD (ST3160812AS) ✝️ already died after numerous troubleshoots & at one time, back in December 2022, I paid my funds to the professional disk recovery store to save "my precious files", but it was too late... 😢 They tried to replace the mechanical arm from their spare parts, cleaning the disk using dust-free ventilation laminar, but again no luck at all. And they labeled "unrecovered". Therefore, there's nothing they can do, and so is mine, so I decided to pull out my unrecovered item via parcel delivery service by paying another round of funds.

• It's a shame, that one mistake could end up a disaster, and that's exactly how I feel the pain. What one mistake I made? Well, do you remember when I accidentally cleaned up my internal PC, back in April of 2022 [CLICK ME!]? Yeah, the result of replacing the motherboard & CPU chip means my 160GB HD could not work. And before I send my HD to the recovery store in December, in May 2022, I've decided to troubleshoot by ⚠️ opening the lid to reveal the internal disk ⚠️ from learning the tutorial! Although, I didn't realize that opening the lid was a ⚠️ BIG MISTAKE ⚠️, and at that moment we're my mind went into a spiral of depression because I messed up big time. 😢 Uh yeah, and also I purchased two HD docks (from Lazada PH), one was a 2.0 & 3.0 USB variant before I sell my 2.0 USB type to anonymous. The 3.0 variant is still in possession for my future needs.

• So, what now? How's my life going after my 2022 tragic? Well, its still hunts today, but I'm strongly moving on from my huge mistake. I mean, look at it. I upgrade my PC by connecting my first owned NVMe M.2 drive onto my PC & it changed my computer hobby forever. But still. It's just a pain in my heart, and hopefully, I will FIND another way to save my precious files (or not). But for now, I put my HD to sleep inside the antistatic bag & a cardboard box, forever, and never come back. So yeah, Rest in Peace... 😔🥀⚰️

This quote fits in my situation → "Changed has to come for life to struggle forward." ~Helen Hollick

And also, this music, too. → [CLICK ME!]

A moment of silence, you two... 😔🥀⚰️

Well, that’s the end of my topic.

If you haven’t seen my previous topic, then please [CLICK ME!].😉

Tagged: @lordromulus90, @bryan360, @carmenramcat, @leapant, @rafacaz4lisam2k4, @alexander1301, @paektu

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi, it's been awhile. This is two part if you remember me. How have you been? I hope you're doing great.

Life... has not been good to me so I took some time off for myself to recharge.

I'm glad that you're moving to a new place now, I hope you'll settle soon. I hope you also get all of the stuff you need, and get used to the new place soon.

I think last time I talked to you, I mentioned an idea of a nsfw Ace fantasy I have, do you still want to hear it? I missed talking to you even though we probably don't know anything about each other. Dang, and I missed your fics A LOT.

I'll probably go reread some of them now. Best wishes.

TWO PART ANON!!! It's so good to hear from you again! I'm sorry life hasn't been treating you well 😔, I'm doing better now that I've moved, though it was a difficult move. Have you heard of Murphy's law? Because that basically sums up my move 😆. I remember you mentioning your Ace fantasy, yes, and I absolutely still want to hear it! You've always got such great ideas! I'm hoping to write something in a few days once I unpack and get stuff set up. (And stop sleeping, I've been so tired, lol)

[missingn000]

Just finished reading chapter 40✨️I have so many thoughts about it so I'll try (and fail) to get them somewhat in order...

1) The fact that Kenjaku decided to monologue to his ex-father-in-law-whose-son-he-murdered about his evil plan and motivations is very pathetic? Like, I never thought I could have less respect for him, yet here we are. Way to prove you have a grand total of 0 friends, my dude. On the other hand, I like what you did with his motivation, it's very interesting to see how his goal clashes with the themes of the story.

2) Sukuna is here!🎉🎉🎉I like how the first thing he does is torment two 10 year olds... what a weird individual. He's so horrible can't believe Wasuke's last words were about his ass and how he needs help😔. I hope he gets it and it's as annoying for him as it is for everyone that has to give it to him (Perhaps even more so). Also, Kenjaku really took a look at Sukuna, minding his own business for the first and last time in his cursed life, and was like "wow, I am gonna ruin this dude's life in ways that haven't even been invented yet".

3) Poor Getou... he finally started to get better and repair his relationship with his son and now this happens.😔Like, he was going to go meet his friends and husband for 5 minutes.✨️ He bought the book!✨️ He was doing so well... I hope he survives and moves past this. At least he managed to ruin Kashimo's day as much as his own day was ruined so he didn't take only L's.

4)Poor Yuuji and Toge... No one in this chapter is having fun except Kenjaku, Sukuna and maybe Mahito. The kids don't deserve this at all... it's not like they're much older in canon, but at least they're not 10. Like, why are a bunch of 1000+ year olds picking on children? I hope Toge survives. I bet Sukuna will be very annoyed once a 10 year old manages to supress him.

5)I love how Kenjaku decided that Mahito showing that he cares about Kashimo even a little bit is not proof that his dumb plan is doomed to fail in the most thematically relevant way possible, but some sort of what? fluke? He really doesn't want to see anything that disproves his point...

Sukuna is a curse, first and foremost, so it’s not even possible. It’s a bit odd that Mahito is showing signs of reciprocating his partner’s strange sense of protectiveness, but that’s neither here nor there.

Anyway, the chapter was really great!✨️I am sad that Wasuke had to die, it's horrible that it happened on Yuuji's birthday, but at least he had time to warn him. I hope Yuuji will stay string and remember his words.

✨️💖✨️

HIII oh i am so thrilled you liked the chapter! or at least that it emotionally throttled you for about 14k words. you're so right, kenjaku has 0 friends and no one likes him. he really went on a whole ass villain monologue to the dude he just poisoned solely because no one knew of his ~true nefariousness~ and that was unacceptable to him. lame ass ignored direct evidence against his plans because he became so sure of himself. that said, his goals were fun to come up with, and i'm super happy you also think they're interesting!!

SUKUNAAAA<3333 my weird individual. yeah, genuinely crazy wasuke's last words were unknowingly telling yuuji to please help the psychotic demon soon to be possessing him. mans needs therapy so bad and instead he has a 10 year old that was perfectly crafted by kenjaku to remind him of how his soul was broken. he needs a hug. but not before getting decked in the face many times for all the shit he's pulled over the last few centuries

ahh getou...sadness. he really got emotionally wrecked and now he has to go fight sukuna in the body of his friend's kid? he cannot catch a fucking break. neither can nanami. anyone, really.

how is this a fix-it fic again?

[alyjojo]

Advice to Work on Yourself 💇🏽‍♂️in November 2022: Sagittarius

6 Swords - 3 Swords - The World

Regarding: 6 Cups

This message couldn’t be more point blank, you’ve got to let the past go. It’s over. Judgement rev shows there won’t be any repeats of a situation and whatever has gone is long gone, it’s time to let it go. Move away from burdens, and heartbreak, the things that have weighed you down and disappointed you for far too long. The pain is blocking your blessings, it’s affected your outlook on life. You’re pessimistic and hard on yourself when you should be optimistic for the future and what’s to come. Your life didn’t end with whatever has happened here. Every card that signals pain and heartbreak is out here, you have been deeply wounded by a situation, to the point it’s changed who you are inside. You probably need to check in with your own triggers and ask yourself on a regular basis, is this a response to what was? Or what is now? The card of no repeats is very important, whatever situation you were in is no longer, and it’s time to release it all.

The World is done. Queen of Cups may be who this is regarding, could be a Cancer, Scorpio is heavy here too. She can also be an energy of self love, nurturing and caring for yourself, healing yourself, checking back in with who you are at your core and following your heart again. She may be the key to a new beginning for you, if a person, or who you’ve needed to release. This ending feels natural and divine in nature, and with an ending comes a brand new beginning, as shown by The Fool and The Magician to follow - in divine order even, to follow this World. You’re on the right track, and it’s okay to move on with your life now.

Animal Oracle: Wolverine ⚔️

You’re a lot tougher than you think you are.

You have what it takes to deal with turmoil, where things don’t work out how you expected. Remember the times you’ve faced adversity, and how you had to dig deep to find the courage to handle it. By handling situations head-on, inner wisdom will help you dictate when to move forward and when to retreat. This is one of those times when you need to be assertive with others, say no, sustain boundaries, keep your head up and no complaining or being a martyr, it will only drag you down.

Artist Oracle: FILIPPO MARINETTI

- Forward march. Looking backward ensures a broken neck.

- Your art should wage war.

- The only constant will always be contradiction.

Advice:

- Connect Through Conversation

- Create a New Exercise Habit

Charms:

Cross ✝️ on The World shows whatever spirituality you believe in. Most things end eventually, at least in the way they once were, and this one feels like one that is directed by Spirit. All of the major arcana here, and in order, show this being a natural progression of life. Maybe even death 😔 If you’ve dealt with the death of a close one, my heart goes out to you. Things happen in their own time when it comes to grief, I don’t get this being a message of “pressuring you”, more like much time has passed and you’re ready…but maybe feel guilty? You don’t have to. Or maybe it’s simply a reminder that everything moves in cycles, and it was simply the time to end whatever cycle you were in that caused a lot of pain. What follows is beautiful, limitless potential.

Balloons 🎈 on Connect Through Conversation could show this subject coming up at a celebration or gathering of some kind, which would trigger this reading to exist if the subject is long since passed. You’re getting your props from Spirit, you’re strong, even though you didn’t have faith in yourself, you’ve made it anyway. Pat yourself on the back, give yourself the credit you deserve. And talk to other people who probably understand what you’ve gone through here, maybe it affected them too. It’s always good to feel understood, especially when it involves things you don’t feel you can talk about openly with just anyone. Everyone understands pain on some level, or they will, it’s a natural part of life 🙏

[moonsuke]

Woke up today with the shinsekai yori ED playing in my head, and also feeling really affected by one of the spoilers I read yesterday? It’s strange because I wasn’t really that affected when I first read it. I think the fucked up-ness of it didn’t register since I didn’t let myself linger on it and was focusing on crying over Shun lol. I’m guessing I was dreaming of it that’s why I woke up understanding the gravity of it? But it’s weird since I would usually remember I was dreaming, if not the actual contents... But I’d to be lingering on it in my sleep because I woke up really feeling very affected by how fucked up it is… Maybe my mind supplemented and embellished it with even more fucked up-ness since I didn’t fully read the spoiler lol…

Very aligned with the subconscious theme this anime is covering huh.

Anyway, as I woke up more and more those feelings started dissipating and me being emotional about Shun took over… Guess my conscious self still isn’t registering the fucked up spoilers and prefers to focus on crying over Shun lol. Maybe I need to actually get to that part of the anime before it really hits me… It’s a really fucked up plot point though… I wasn’t all that invested in the plot until this whole Shun thing happened and I guess now this.

And now about Shun… I’m still not over it 😔

I just rewatched it so I can move on to the next ep and man, I think I cried even harder lmao. I started sobbing when mutated Subaru (Shun’s loyal af dog) appeared and you can just HEAR Shun’s voice starting to break and he went “I never wanted to do any of this” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The VA, the animation of the little wasp balls as Shun tried his hardest to focus his attention on manipulating them so as to not let his subconscious take over warping everything, the balls wobbling when he was talking about Subaru… the BALLS ALL FALLING AS SUBARU GOT KILLED PROTECTING SHUN FROM THE TAINTED CAT SENT TO KILL HIM.

Like screw Shun and Saki, or Shun and Satoru, his deepest bond is with Subaru which is just so fucking sad. Shun has always been a lonely boy for some reason despite having a good family and close friends, yet he acknowledges Subaru as his only confidante, again for some reason.

According to “karma demon” lore, loneliness and isolation leads to an accumulation of “karma” and subsequent loss of control over it which creates a being that loses control of all their powers.

Yet “karma demon” is also called a sickness, Hashimoto-Appelbaum syndrome, which is a disease that strikes humans with psychic powers. Kind, gentle and reasonable children are the most prone to it which makes Shun even more sad… Perhaps because they’re such good people, their subconsciousness are particularly dark? I mean, fears and all have to go somewhere.

So for now I really don’t know which explanation is the right one. I’m leaning towards the second, and Shun’s loneliness was just a plot point to make him a more tragic character. The sickness prob amplified it because he has to stay away from everyone else (whom he hasn’t killed yet). It’s made clear he killed his parents, but I’m wondering if he killed everyone else in his village too since everyone there is missing. Or maybe they got wiped by the “ethics committee” to keep Shun becoming a karma demon a secret.

Oh yea… This is probably also the start of us finding out the extreme methods needed to maintain a society of walking nuclear bombs. Justified or not, I’ll have to watch more to decide, but the “fucked up” spoiler I mentioned before had something to do with this too so…

But the way they handled Shun did seem reasonable. They tried to seal his powers, gave him (restricted from children) information to maybe help him and for him to add on his experience, gave him pills to off himself, and eventually sending Tainted cats to kill him once his transformation is irreversible and becomes a bigger threat. Otherwise, things that might help would be to make this information known to children in the first place, but I think the storyline is going towards if they know about their dark history, it’ll trigger even more fear and loss of control over their subconscious and powers. A lot of their social interactions are actually already carefully manipulated (sometimes even genetically) and crafted to ensure no violent and aggression is directed to each other. The children are really kept sheltered with no access to any information to ensure they grow up “properly” and won’t become dangerous to society. But once they’re adults they seem to be able to learn about everything though. I’ll just have to keep watching to find out…

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Man, the voice acting man, fuck I’m not over Shun (Also fuck u Murase Ayumu). The music is really cool too this ep. Animatjon is okay for Shun and his out of control magic, not for Saki though. This director is doing the same shit as in ep 5 making Saki all weirdly flimsy and fragile and floating around damsel-like. All her lines are said in gasps too like it just feels so fucking unnatural. It’s only like this when this particular director takes charge though. I get trying to make the ep ethereal but whatever he did with Saki is not it man.