#other girls would come from crumbling graves

[dreamofmourning]

[mariasont]

hi!! I have a spencer reid x fem!reader request, how about emily plotline but it's spencer instead of emily and reader totally falls apart after she thinks he died, to the point of self-destructive behaviors. she simply can't cope. i totally understand if you're not comfortable with writing something like that, though.

i hope you're having a great day <3

Beyond the Grave - S.R

a/n: angellllll thank you so much for requesting !!!!!! <3 i hope you have the BEST day ever!

masterlist

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pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: angst, spencer dead for a hot sec then he's not, reader using alcohol to cope, weight loss briefly mentioned, unhealthy coping methods, happy ending!

wc: 1.7k

The knocks were there again, a stubborn sound you chose to ignore as you smothered yourself with your pillow. You willed yourself to drown out the noise and fall back asleep, to forget that your existence now had shrunk to the four corners of your mattress--a fact that didn't necessarily bring you any pride.

When it first happened, you were in a constant state of disbelief. The harsh truth that Spencer had died, leaving a void that you were powerless to fill, seemed to a cruel joke. You found yourself caught in an endless loop of denial, half-expecting him to stroll through the door or wake up to the realization that this was all just a bad dream.

But that never happened so you spent your days imprisoned in your own home, a shell of your former self, devoid of anything that once animated your being. You distanced yourself from everything that once brought you happiness--your family, your friends, your gardening.

You had just introduced Spencer to it a couple months before it happened--when to plant each flower, how to prepare the soil, the schedule of watering. But now it all felt very meaningless, and the once-tended garden became a forgotten space, overgrown and disregarded.

Each morning at work, you were met with a twisting, angry sickness--a gnawing reaction to the collective failure of everyone in that room. You had all let him down, and now the weight of never seeing his smile again was a blade that kept twisting deeper. It was excruciating.

The blow landed on you with a severity that others seemed spared from. You couldn't simply erase the memory and move on. It wasn't an option; it was etched into your very being, monopolizing every thought and sensation.

The team had attempted to piece you back together, but eventually, their help felt like a stabbing reminder. You were beyond repair, a lost cause--you skipped meals, you never slept, you drank too much. With every look in the mirror, you saw the reflection of someone slowly crumbling away. 

Finally, you were angry, a scalding feeling that spread through your veins. You were furious at Spencer leaving you, at the unsub for taking him away, and at yourself for failing to save him, for arriving too late, for watching him struggle against the knife, for watching him disappear into surgery and not come out.

The incessant knocking persisted, an annoyance that finally drew you from your bed. Your limbs were heavy with sleep, a thick haze still clouding your mind. You dragged yourself toward the door, a string of mental curses directed at the uncivilized disturber--likely Penelope with her usual invites for a girl's night out.

But as you swung the door open, the familiar world upended itself, flipped around, and splatted to the bottom of the universe. Dryness clung to your throat, your hands rendered numb at your sides.

And there he was--Spencer, not a ghost, not a figment conjured by your overwrought imagination, but flesh and blood--alive. You fought the urge to pinch yourself. You questioned your sanity briefly, but those eyes--his eyes--were indelibly seared in your memory. You would know them anywhere.

You can't breathe, can't form coherent thoughts. This moment is the very one you've replayed in your dreams, a thousand different ways, and now that it's tangibly here, you can't breathe.

Spencer's heart squeezed at the sight of you. Your eyes were swollen and tinged with the redness as if you'd been crying or just woken up or both. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, ending just shy above your shoulders. You face was washed and hollowed out; the color sapped away as if the sun had become a stranger to you.

"Hey," his voice floated to you, soft as though he was worried you might vanish at any louder sound.

A hesitant hand reached out, trembling as if half-expecting it to pass right through him. But when your fingers brushed against his--solid and warm--reality intensified to an almost unbearable degree, too visceral to be anything but real. 

"B-But you're dead," you choke out, a tremor in each syllable. Your fingers find their way to your lips, the ground seeming to spin in a disorienting whirl. "Spencer, I watched you die."

"Can I come in?"

He didn't wait for an answer, stepping around you into the room. His eyes swept over the cluttered space--the litter of empty alcohol bottles, the stacks of dirt dishes. His heart plummeted, a sinking stone to the pit of his stomach.

One of the first things he noticed about you was your near-compulsive need for keeping things clean, orderly. Your desk had been organized to an almost surgical degree, and Morgan took a secret pleasure in disrupting your system, shifting your pens just to get a reaction. But Spencer had memorized the exact coordinates of your things and discreetly corrected each item before you could notice.

So, this, the sight of your neglected home was something he never thought he'd see.

"Maybe we should sit?" Spencer suggested, more firmly. "I have explanations for everything."

With a nod, you make you way to the couch. His gaze lingers on you, taking in the way the clothes that once hugged you, now draped over your frame in loose folds. He noted the strained swallow, the constant bobbing of your knee, and the startled wideness in your eyes, as if you weren't really sure how to process the sudden influx of information.

He told you everything--why he faked his death, what he had been doing this whole time, why it wasn't Hotch's fault for keeping it from you, and why you had to be kept in the dark. 

His expectations hadn't included you jumping up and down at the sight of him, but the coldness he encountered caught him off guard. Brows knitted downward, knees angled away as if his presence was unbearable, you offered no words when he spoke, an occasional vacant look washing over your features.

"Did you even think of me once, or was I out of sight, out of mind?"

The words surprised him, your tone casual, but your balled fists resting on your knees betrayed you.

"I never stopped thinking of you," Spencer's response was immediate, his hand reaching towards yours.

But you recoiled immediately, shaking your head.

"No, no," you stammered out, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to speak. "You can't just...leave me and come back and act as if... as if...it's all okay."

Your voice broke with every word and so did his heart.

With a quick motion, you're on your feet, nearly tripping over the disorder that's invaded your space. Spencer's instinct is to reach out, to steady you, but he knows better.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, standing to follow your movements. "I didn't have a choice. Believe me, if there was any other way, I'd never have left. I couldn't--"

He paused, a hand brushing through his hair as he blew out a breath.

"But that's just it, Spencer, I don't believe you," you snap, voice trembling with indignation. "You were my best friend, the one person I relied on, and you disappeared."

He started to speak, but you took a step back holding your hand out to stop him. 

"No, you died Spencer. I went to your funeral. I stood over your grave, and now you're here." Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you turned away, hiding your face. "How can you just stand there after all of that?"

Spencer moves closer. "You're being unfair," he says cornering you against the wall. "Why are you being like this?"

His eyes search yours, probing for an explanation, and you give it to him, raw and unfiltered.

"Why am I being like this? Maybe because I'm in love with you."

Spencer's steps falter, retreating as if struck. 

"Oh, come on, don't act so surprised," you blurt out, already wishing you could take back the words. "I know you know." You're rambling now. "I mean, in team briefings I always save you a seat, in meetings I'm always the first one to back your theories, and for crying out loud I got you a copy of the first edition of On the Origin of Species by Darwin for your birthday, like do you know how hard that was to find? What platonic friend would--"

Your admissions pour out unchecked until Spencer's hands are on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours, stopping the flow of your confessions. 

Your breath hitches, a startled sound muffled by Spencer's mouth, a rush of surprise coursing through you. For a heartbeat, you're frozen, but as quickly as it comes, it fades into a warmth that blooms deep in your chest, and you're kissing him back with a desperation that matches the pounding of your heart. 

The world narrows down to the sweet pressure of his mouth moving with careful ease against yours, your hands finding their way to his hair, tangling with the soft strands as you melt into him. 

You pull back just enough to see his eyes, your breaths mingling, foreheads still touching, softly panting. 

"I'm still so upset with you," you whisper, your eyes glistening. 

Spencer's hands are soft on your skin, brushing away the tear. "I know. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You nibble on your lower lip and give a small nod. Spencer responds by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Promise?" you ask, heart in your throat. "I don't want you to leave me again."

You had never felt so vulnerable. 

"Promise," he replies. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of his words setting in. In a moment of boldness, you reach up to trace the lines of his face, memorizing every detail. 

Spencer's eyes soften, and he whispers, "By the way, I love you too. From the very first moment I saw you."

It's like a key turning a lock. You don't say anything, you don't need to. The silence is enough--the quiet understanding that you'll heal, you'll grow, just like the garden waiting for your return.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[causenessus]

Love Languages. | Bungou Stray Dogs

inc: dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, tecchou, jouno

written in 2nd pov (female reader implied)

song recc: do you love by trish toledo & baby bash

word count: 2324 words

pretty sure everything is written in lowercase except for names if they didn't look ugly capitalized bc aesthetics !!! had tons of fun writing this I apologize, this is barely proofread and for literally every character I got too caught up in specific examples and scenarios and just kept building off of it but I think they're kind of sweet so I hope u enjoy <3

dazai osamu - acts of service

“she peels an orange for us in the morning / she woke me up to give me half” golden girl - frank ocean

he’s terrible at taking care of himself, so someone who takes the time to care for him just makes every wall crumble

he’s probably horrible at remembering to eat as well, so if you make something for him he’ll treasure it forever

bonus points if your job requires you to wake up earlier than him (which isn’t hard, he def comes in a little later than his coworkers) and you leave something for him to eat when he wakes up or to take with him to work (or both <3)

he’ll start to look forward to waking up in the mornings in hope that you’ve made him something

never asks you if you’ll make something in specific or if you’ll even make him something at all. he adores anything you make and doesn’t want to make you feel obliged to do something if you happen to be tired and don’t want to cook tomorrow

voices all his appreciation for you when you both have laid down to go to sleep

“bella, I can’t tell you how much it means to me, all that you do. you really don’t have to make me anything if it’s a hassle in the morning or when you get home. you already work so hard.”

you turned onto your other side to face him, pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear as you smiled, “I do it because I want to, ‘Samu. and because I love you. if I can’t spend the day with you because we’re both at work, at least I can take care of you.”

his chest buzzed with so much happiness his eyes stung for a moment. he held himself back from saying that he didn’t deserve you. saying something like that wouldn’t solve anything. instead, he’d make himself worthy of you by helping out as well

he probably can’t cook very well but he finds other ways to help, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, getting groceries, and cleaning the place so that there’s less on your plate

ask him to do anything and he’ll get it done for you as soon as possible <3

I think that for him, receiving such sweet love without any words is foreign to him but is just what he needs. he’d rather show how much he loves you than say it (although he loves to tell you it as well). getting out of bed could be so difficult for him some days, yet having a goal for himself has motivated him to become a better person. he wakes up, excited for what you may have made him and ready to do whatever he can for you

nakahara chuuya - gift giving

“they asked, ‘do you love her to death?’ I said, ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’” - mahmoud darwish

it’s easier for him to express how much you mean to him by giving you everything you want and everything he thinks you would like

he still tells you that he loves you every chance he gets, but oftentimes it is accompanied by a gift, no matter how small it may be, from just a single rose to a whole garden

for him, it gives a new purpose in his work; he’s working in order to get you whatever your pretty heart desires

he’s proud to use his hard-earned money to buy you things (rather than spending it all on wine <3 ily chuuya)

the easiest thing he can always get you is a favorite snack or drink and he’s got a whole system for it

he knows every store it’s available at and many of the clerks are familiar with him from the sheer amount of times he’s visited them to buy something for you. it never grows old for him, his favorite thing to do is buy you something on his way home from work or during the day when he’s planning to surprise you with a visit

he keeps a mental list of what your favorite things are. you’ll tell him about something you like without thinking anything of it but he’s already planned out when and how to give the item to you. it’s always on his mind what he’ll buy you each day, and it’s always worth it seeing you enjoy whatever he’s bought you

sometimes it’s as simple as a coffee and he’ll drop by your work to give it to you in person

“hanging in there, Angel? need a little pick-me-up?” he has the biggest smile on his face every time he sees you, and bringing a gift for you with him only adds to his excitement

“you spoil me, Chuuya,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning further into him as he holds you in his arms.

“what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” he responds, rubbing your back as you sigh.

receiving gifts from you is just as sweet. no one has ever given him as many gifts as he’s given others–which is fine with him–it’s not about what he’ll get in return and he knows that not everyone expresses their love the way he does

but he’s touched whenever you get him something. since giving gifts is so meaningful to him, it means even more that someone would go through the trouble to give something back to him

he’ll keep whatever you get him close to him at all times and smile every time he sees it or remembers it

once, you bought him a new chain for his hat and he hasn’t changed it since. it only made the hat more special to him now that it reflects two people that had changed his life

akutagawa ryunosuke - words of affirmation

“my love, you are worth it all.”

we all know how the boy responded to dazai’s praise or even simply just the words “dazai wants to talk to you”

to hear a person who has persisted through his stubborn, aggressive defense say they still love him causes him to start to soften for you

he’s been surrounded by harsh words and people who have exploited him and brushed him to the side whenever he wasn’t needed all his life, so it stirs his heart to hear someone notice things about him and who tells him that they want to stay with him

it’s something reserved for solitary moments just between the two of you for sure, but that makes the time all the more special because he can let down his guard and just be with you

his past has made it hard for him to believe he is worthy of anything other than the murderous skills he’s harnessed in order to get him to where he is in the Mafia, but you’ve shown him that there’s more to him than just how well he can use Rashomon

he never bothers to try and listen to what other people are saying but he always gives his full attention to anything you have to say

he doesn’t even like to hear compliments from anyone else, he doesn’t trust them at all but he trusts and believes anything you tell him, knowing you have the purest intentions of loving and supporting him

after a job, all he wants to do is go home. by the end of the day, he’s sick of everyone around him so on the rare occasion that you decide to visit him, he won’t even notice until you call out to him

he had just finished a job, it was successful, but it had gotten messy. Mori had already told him off and he didn’t want to hear anything from anyone else. he stormed past every piece of vermin that had decided to get in his way, their whispers just barely reaching his ears

“Ryu!” you called out from amongst them, waiting by a door.

“What?” he hadn’t meant to snap, especially when he realized it was you talking to him and his face immediately relaxed when he saw you.

“oh, [y/n].” he immediately started to make his way towards you, the pounding in his head slowly starting to disappear the closer

“I came to pick you up, I’m glad I had good timing,” you smiled, offering your hand.

he took it gently, giving it a soft squeeze, “I’m sorry I responded so rudely, I didn’t–”

“you’re okay, Ryu,” you placed your other hand on top of it, looking him straight in the eyes, keeping a loving smile on your face, “you don’t ever have to be sorry. you’re doing just fine. even better, actually. I’m so proud of all your work and I’m sure you’re tired after everything today. it looked busy.”

the words erased every memory of Mori’s scolding that his head had latched on to in order to beat himself down later on. he felt his cheeks warm a little as he looked away, “you’re too kind to me, [y/n].”

tries his best to also put into words his appreciation but it’s so hard for him to verbally say it; sometimes it comes out wrong

instead, he’s opted for notes most of the time, leaving them on your bedside or in your bag, telling you how thankful he is for you and that he loves you

suehiro tecchou - quality time

“on the train we swapped seats, you wanted the window and I wanted to look at you.” - mahmoud darwish

my boy is always so busy

as soon as he’s off work he just wants to be wherever you’re at

he’d doesn’t mind silence and doesn’t care where he is as long as he’s with you

sometimes gets off work and if you’re not home yet just sneaks into your workplace to be around you

adores following you around and doesn’t always know exactly what you’re doing but he’s just happy to tag along

grocery store dates are some of his favorite moments with you

he loves everything about convenience stores

he loves food and the endless aisles of colorful packages and choices

(it gives him ideas for new food combinations <3)

once bought a himalayan salt shaker simply because

“look [y/n]! they make pink salt :0”

later put said pink salt on top of strawberry ice cream bc they were both pink

he also loves getting to look around the store all the while following you. he admires your organized grocery lists and how you’ve already planned out what you’re going to buy

once you tried to send him out to grab something in an area you’d already passed so that you could continue going down the list

“can you go grab some carrots for me, love? sorry, I forgot to pick them up when we were in the produce section.”

“of course 🙂” his heart is shattering inside of him at the thought of being separated from you.

“do you want to stay with me and we’ll go back later?” you ask, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

“yes pls”

groceries stores are not the only place you guys go tho i promise

if you’re still in school, he’ll accompany you on study dates 

never bothers you under any circumstances and if he is and you tell him he’ll stop right away

he could spend all day looking at your pretty face even if you never once looked at him <3

jouno saigiku - physical touch

“you kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry / the sun has come this close, only the sun” “GPS” - Shauan Barbosa

although he can’t see you, he knows your body by heart <3

he’s spent so much time tracing it over and over with his hands

i think his favorite thing to do, especially after a long day at work is flop onto you and just listen to your heartbeat. probably also intertwines one of his hands with yours, often runs other across your skin

loves when you touch him just as much

if he’s lying on top of you and you decide to run a hand through his hair, all of his problems have just melted away

you both have definitely fallen asleep like that countless times no matter what time of day it is

he’s always finding ways to be in close contact with you, making sure that you’re safe and near him

again, he loves loves loves to hold your hand, he’ll reach for it any chance he gets

will also settle for an arm around your shoulder though as long as you’re close to him

definitely the type to also rest his head on top of yours or on your shoulder every chance he gets

if he needs to fidget he won’t even play with his own fingers he’ll just play with yours

i think that with the loss of one sense, the other senses hold so much meaning for him

it’s easier and more meaningful for him to show his love and how much he trusts you through touch rather than just saying it out loud

comes up from behind you to hug you a lot, especially in the kitchen or when you’ve just come home he’s there immediately, hugging you to recharge

“how was your day, my love?”

you always relax in his arms, turning your head slightly to kiss his face which he’s let rest on your shoulder, “it was missing you.”

he placed a chaste kiss on your lips, “i’ll make it all up to you now, darling.”

there was one time that he let you do his hair

he’s never told you how much he enjoyed it; he didn’t even know what you had done to it, but being near your warmth is all he needs and can ask for <3

[hunterbunter3000]

Tbh the way you write Krueger gives me sugar daddy / obsessive vibes (not that I can complain). I love the idea of him being so obsessed to please sweetheart in any way she wants (personally I HC him as a service top switch, specially w the way you write him). But if you’re ever up to it I’d love some Krueger drabble (or ghost or könig bc they’re yummy too)

-🪿(hönk)

HÖNK BABES OMG

18+

You are so right with him being a service top 👏 ugh he would so eat her out until she passes out. Round after round, with his big ass hands clamped around her thighs and his thick tongue flicking against her overworked clit. AUGH he would cum so quickly because of her taste and moans. He would cum just from eating her out 💀💀

And he 10000000%% is obsessive with Sweetheart. He only thinks about Sweetheart 25/8 and all he wants to do is please her. He calls her "My little Goddess" for a reason ✨️ just touching her is a blessing to him. Touching her hand, he would crumble right then and there. He would do anything and EVERYTHING for this woman. He wants-- NEEDS-- to be around her all the time, or he will go INSANE. He's also pretty possessive with her. But Sweetheart shut that shit down, so he's only just a little teehee🤭 but yeah he becomes quite jealous when people talk to her. Don't touch her because you will lose a hand. And if you make a move? Oh, you're gonna end up either on a t-shirt or on a milk carton.

(I can go on and on with Krueger about being an obsessive freak with Sweets HAHA)

And hönk omg sugar daddy Krueger makes me want to fold😭 she wouldn't even ask him to be a sugar daddy, he would just do it himself. He LOVES spoiling her, even though she doesn't ask for it, he does it anyway. And of course she's thankful for it, she's not a brat. But that makes him buy MORE SHIT FOR HER

It's a cycle:

• Krueger buys something for Sweets

• Sweets yells at him

• Sweets says thank you and smiles

• Krueger gets the happy juice in his brain

And then it starts over 💀

He's even bought her an apartment close to his, but she wanted to stay in her old family home, so he said "okay. I'll just live closer to you" and she's like-- w h a t 🧍‍♀️

And OH he would so buy toys for her. Like vibrators. He bought one that he could control from afar and that was such a fun day LOL When he's not around, like on a mission, he made a mold out of his cock for her 💀 and yk... she uses it sometimes HWHEHSHES Krueger asked her to send a video of her using it and she does. She was so embarrassed and shy when she did it. Wearing one of Krueger's shirts and ONLY his shirt-- and her hair out (he loves seeing her hair down) and she's on the bed with the toy and she lubes it up, cause it's fucking huge. AND IT HAS A SUCTION CUP LOL so she just slaps on the bed frame and rubs it on her slit.

Fuck, and Krueger is just watching it like it's the last thing on earth. He is so FUCKING HARD and he wants to be there and fuck her himself. He hears her little whimper when the toy prods her hole. Sweet's is bent on the bed and holding a pillow, her eyebrows knitted and tears already springing in her eyes. Omg that makes Krueger go FERALLL

And once she backs her thick ass back into it, she squeals so loudly and starts to twitch. "Fuck... I think I just came..." GIRL I THINK KRUEGER JUST CAME WHEN YOU SAID THAT WTF-- she starts to grind on it, as much as she can fit, and starts to bounce on it. Her moans and whimpers flow through the speaker of his phone and other soldiers are just frozen and turned on, and are scared to shit to tell him that everyone can hear what's playing on his phone 💀(he honestly doesnt give a shit, hes too engrossed on the video) and Graves comes over, pissed at Krueger because it's extremely distracting whatever is on his phone. Graves was about to speak until he saw Sweetheart fucking herself on the biggest dildo he has ever seen. He has never seen her moan and whimper like that-- like gurl where has this side been?? And he just stands there with his eyes big and mouth gaping. His dick twitches in his pants and he feels light-headed. The fucking wet sounds of her stretched pussy and her low babbles and her bottom half jiggling with every bounce is straight torture for the both of them.

"Fuuucckkkk Krueger, if this is the size of your actual fucking cock I don't think I can take it..." Sweetheart whimpers out. Graves is like- SORRY WHAT

THAT BIG THING IS A MOLD OF KRUEGER'S COCK??? It's literally making a small bulge in her stomach when she sits up and it's not even in all the fucking way. Krueger growls, his knee bouncing like CRAZZYY "You'll take it, baby. You will." He mumbles to himself. Omg he's so turned on its making him unstable.

She goes faster, the bed frame creaking with her backing up on it. She gets louder and her thighs start shaking so damn much. "Cumming... Cumming!" She bites the pillow hard as her pussy creams around the dildo. She makes such a mess on the bed frame omg (Krueger and Graves wanted to lick it all clean) and she's breathing heavily, trying to calm herself down. Once she does, she gets up to get her phone, they can see that she's a bit sweaty and eyes teary and low. She wipes her face and she sighs before speaking. "I can't believe I did this. Fuck I'm still shaking. Just-- be safe Krueger." And the video ends. The silence is THICCKKKK AFTERWARDS LMAO

But I am making a smut fic between Krueger and Sweetheart, so keep an eye out for that!

[ataraxiaspainting]

As Grief Consumes.

Yan Childe x F Reader.

Synopsis: You are on the run from the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers after he kills your husband. But soon, your fear turns into a want for revenge, and by then it is too late for you.

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence/some gore, accidental self-harm, essentially kidnapping, massive power imbalance, manipulation, and stalking.

Word Count: 4.4k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Anna Maria by bôa

Once Upon a Dream by Lana Del Ray

An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

I Want a Girl (Just Like the Girl That Married Dear Old Dad) by The Buffalo Bills

Unwed Henry by American Murder Song

Who Is She ? by I Monster

Happy Together by Filter

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

Missed Me by The Dresden Dolls

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

“When you begin a journey of revenge, start by digging two graves: one for your enemy, and one for yourself.” – Jodi Picoult, Nineteen Minutes

i. “The further you sink, the more you drown in lies told by both you and others.”

You had first seen the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers when he was towering above you, unblinking, at the end of your bed. Dressed in elegant gray attire, he stood tall, exuding an air of opulence. His eyes, reminiscent of frozen azure or sapphire gems, shimmered with an ethereal glow, just like his Hydro Vision.

Initially, his absence of blinking and his predatory demeanor seemed only odd, almost as if he were a wild animal, your tiredness preventing you from seeing the situation in its entirety. 

However, once you had awoken enough from your sleep and realized that he was an intruder, a profound sense of terror and alarm engulfed you. Your husband’s snoring was the only audible thing in this moment, the Harbinger’s and your breathing. You had practically jumped out of your bed to run, not thinking. 

“That took a while.”

No. No. No, this can’t be happening. Ji told you that he was able to pay off his debt just in time. Your throat constricts, your gaze widening as your mind teeters on the brink of crumbling, all because of the presence of the person standing just a few feet from you. You can’t breathe. Tartaglia smiles at your fear like you are a new toy he had purchased and then placed on the highest shelf. 

“Why are you–”

“Shh,” He cuts your questioning short with that sound and a simple lift of his finger to his smirking lips. “I just want to chat, girly.” He whispers, putting a lazy arm over the raised footboard. “Don’t cry or scream for help, okay? We both know no one would come anyway.”

Nobody is here to help you get out of this, even Rex Lapis himself.

“Why are you here, Lord Tartaglia? That… is who you are, right? Please, he did pay off his debts.”

You don’t know what to say next. You don’t know what to say next, and it hurts you. What is one supposed to say, when their house is broken into by a Fatui Harbinger and they are just so casually standing a few steps away from you? A Fatui Harbinger who was said to be a wild card and oh so infamously conniving? Would begging for Ji to not die be a good choice? Would you die too then, whether he listens to your pleas or not? Perhaps asking him to at least make his death not painful and long would suffice. It is a gamble, no matter how you slice this situation.

Your husband is not a stranger. You know his life story and what he had done in his life. He knows your life story and actions too. Would Tartaglia listen to you if you kept repeating that Ji had paid off his debt already? Something tells you he won't listen to you, even if you speak enough to make your throat bleed.

“I doubt that.” His voice carries a cheerful melody that unsettles your stomach. “Harbingers aren’t one to be given false information, sweetie.” He chuckles as the tears that are about to fall from your eyes reflect the moonlight. “Anything you want to tell me before I get down to business? It can be anything at all.”

You find yourself tightly embracing your arms, as the frigid air playfully grazes your skin. Perhaps buried within your subconscious, you entertain the possibility that Ji may have deceived you. Maybe he fabricated a story to cease your persistent reminders about visiting Northland Bank and settling his debt with the Fatui. Alternatively, there could be an undisclosed motive behind his deception. Then again, could it be Tartaglia who is deceiving you, or perhaps you are deceiving yourself?

“Do you have to kill him?”

“Yes, princess.”

You don’t say anything for a moment after that blunt response. Tartaglia drinks up every emotion on your face like they are bottles of the sweetest cherry wine. Unfortunately for you, he does not seem the type to be a lightweight.

“Why can’t you do it another way?”

He looks out your window to the Sandbearer trees and bamboo growing in the back of your house. “Because he won’t ever be able to pay off his debt, no matter how much he works or how much he sells.”

You would think the lightness in his tone is simply him fooling around for a moment if he hadn't broken into your home and is a Fatui Harbinger. You know better than to think so foolishly. Perhaps it is simple amusement, with how his eyes look at your cold sweat traveling down your forehead to your neck, and your tears migrating down to your bare feet. You can sense the heaviness of his gaze, as it carefully observes your every action, from the not-so-subtle movement of your fingertips to the gentle flutter of your lashes. He would not be joking at a time like this.

The left side of the bed creaks as you hear Ji’s yawns and grumbles and him rubbing his eyes with his pointer fingers. Were Tartaglia and you too loud? You don’t think so. Your blood runs cold as your head turns and your fearful eyes make contact with his calm ones. 

As you move towards Ji, a wave of childhood nightmares washes over you. In those dreams, a formidable monster lurked behind, forever out of reach no matter how fast you ran. Your legs become burdensome and immobile as if shackled by iron chains. Should you cry out? Warn Ji to flee before it's too late? Tartaglia would easily catch up, but the longer you remain inert, the weightier your guilt grows.

You could still do something, can’t you?

You can still at least try, can’t you?

“[First]?” Your husband’s voice mixed in with drowsiness. “What are you doing up?”

The hand over your mouth doesn’t budge as much as you struggle and claw at it. It’s no use. Ji can’t see anything because his glasses are on the bedside table. He can’t run if he doesn’t know what is here, waiting to tear him apart into little pieces.

“My love? What’s wrong?”

Tartaglia answers before you can.

“I’m afraid your deadline has passed.”

This has to be a bad dream, so you close your eyes and wish that you would just wake up already. But you never do.

ii. “Your flames can either bring life and warmth or cause destruction.”

You woke up in the morning to a cold bed. You sit up and your neck naturally turns to your right, your tiredness keeping you from remembering Ji is dead. You somehow still wanted to check if Ji had already left for work, but he wasn’t there. There was a faint glimmer of hope as you kept denying that Ji hadn’t passed last night after all. But that glimmer was quickly followed by a crushing weight. The bed was cold, the spot where Ji usually lay being taken instead by a head of ginger hair and freckles, a strong arm holding your waist in place.

*~*~*~*

As the sun retreats into the Earth's embrace and the moon takes its place in the celestial stage, the fire dwindles to a mere glimmer of its former radiance. The flames flicker with feebleness, urging you to tend to its dwindling strength.

“Sigh… I’m traveling again today anyway. I don’t need this anymore.” You stand up and almost cry out in pain at your sprained ankle. You can hardly see Liyue Harbor from here. The only thing you can see almost clearly is the giant red gates, the lanterns so small they could be mistaken for little bits of dust or gliding flower petals. You’re thankful that you were not hurt back then and escaped before Tartaglia’s boat set sail for Snezhnaya. Now you can’t go back to Liyue until you are assured that Tartaglia has died. “Time to go.”

You start walking down the mountainside, being careful to not trip on a tree root or rock. You made that mistake before, and you surely do not want history repeating itself. Especially since your ankle just started healing, though it is not healed enough to not make you wince with every step you take. It still beats having it broken though, you suppose.

You would rather sleep, you would rather have someone here to help you through this. Before your eyelids can close again as you walk, you slap yourself. You have to pay attention, because if there are any Fatui skirmishers, mages, or agents here you have to notice them before it is too late for you. You are certain that Tartaglia gave them orders to look out for you. It is what you would have done if you were as obsessed as he was with someone you had never met before. Thankfully though your thread of fate differed from Childe’s, or at least you hoped so.

You have to keep going, it is what Ji would have wanted you to do if he was still alive.

It is what Ji would have wanted you to do. Your sword is dragged behind you, a light thunking sound audible every time it falls a bit at a small ledge. It has seen better days, that is for certain. Its edges are dull and its surface is chipped and stained. The wooden hilt is rotten and split, exposing the worn and tarnished metal beneath.

The sword is old, but there is still strength in the petals beneath all the rust and decay. Despite the more than obvious corrosion, it still manages to retain some of its original sharpness. Having any weapon is better than having none. You cannot just be here out in the wilderness by yourself like some rabbit waiting to be eaten. You have to continue to run and live. You have to, for Ji.

“Huh…?”

Just your luck. The mask the man wears is somewhat scorched and burned at the edges, likely from the fiery attacks the typical Fatui Pyro Agent wields in combat. The red mask’s surface has been ruined by heat and age, leaving it an almost brick color. Its shape is angular, giving it a harsh and intimidating appearance. Nothing is exposed, with even the nose and mouth covered by its metal.

You regret leaving that tacky tent in an instant. You raise your blade and point it at the agent, glaring. In response, the agent crosses his arms with a tch sound leaving the small holes of his mask. Would it be a bad idea to run? Is this agent fast enough to stop you? It’s another gamble, to put it simply.

*~*~*~*

The sound of the troupe of musicians’ instruments fills both you and Ji’s ears sweetly as you dance. The crackling of the fire of the outdoor cooking station provides a cozy atmosphere. You were both at peace surrounded by the warmth and comfort of the song playing and the love you shared.

A drizzle falls from the night sky, adding yet another accent to the harmony. Creating an almost hypnotic rhythm. Ji smiles at you with appreciation in his eyes. He pulls you close as you continue to dance to the melodic tunes playing in the background.

“I love you.”

*~*~*~*

But you take that chance and start running uphill, not being as careful as you were walking down. The agent chases after you as you gasp for air, your eyes going from looking at the top of the small mountain to looking at your feet to making sure you don’t trip and fall. But then you look behind you and see the agent reaching his hands out towards you, aiming to catch you before you can get very far. That is when your instinct kicks in, the rational part of your brain being replaced by pure emotion and impulse.

The agent attempts to sidestep out of the way but only manages to trip himself on a tree root as your rusty blade makes a clear and large bloody slash across his chest. He tumbles down the mountainside, his blood trailing behind him in a crimson stream. He grunts and you go back to running. Only when you are up on the top of the hill do you look down at what you have done

He lies struggling at the bottom of the mountainside. Your tunnel vision makes the world dark, leaving only one color left; the agent’s bright red blood staining the mountainside. He seems to have collapsed on a rocky part of it, his body losing the strength to stay upright. The wind blows at the crimson trails of blood, splattering them over the nearby rocks and foliage. He reaches out with a weak hand, reaching in vain for you, his voice nothing more than feeble gurgling and panting. The agent struggles to stay conscious, but the pain from the massive wound in his chest and the lack of oxygen causes him to slowly lose consciousness. He draws a final breath as he goes limp. The corpse bleeds out into the dirt and rocks, his blood mingling with the soil as he remains still and lifeless.

*~*~*~*

The soft glow of the candles illuminated the bedroom. Ji could see that you were fast asleep, your gentle breathing a testament to this. He leans in close and kisses your forehead, your eyebrows slightly contracting in your sleep, Ji feeling content and happy. A gentle breeze blows through the window, causing the curtains to flutter slightly. As he watches the candlelight dance and flicker, his mind is at ease and his heart is full of love for you. You feel safe and secure in your husband’s arms.

*~*~*~*

As soon as you are certain of his death, you step down from your perch and kneel next to the body.

Was it moral? The question hangs in the air like a noose or a guillotine’s blade as you stare down at him. Your act may have been necessary, but was it right? Is murder a justified response? Was there any chance for a peaceful resolution? What could have been?

Is this what Ji would have wanted? Would he be happy if he knew you had blood on your hands now?

iii. “As we dance, each step forward leads to another step back.”

You go to wash your hands in the body of water nearby.

You stand by the edge of the lake, looking down at your hands as you contemplate. Even though there is no physical evidence of blood on your palms, you can still feel the weight of what you have done. The water beckons you like a siren, drawing you in with the promise of being cleansed both physically and spiritually. You hesitate for a moment before dipping your hands into the water, letting the coldness refresh you. As you feel the water wash over your skin, you can’t help but wonder if the feeling of guilt will disappear with it.

“Not bad, not bad.” That is what Childe would say if he was here with you to witness what had just happened, your imagination producing a proudness in his tone that makes you almost vomit. “Seems you learned a bit from me. Cute.”

You have the urge to shield your ears from the harsh reality that the imaginary Tartaglia relished in revealing. However, you resist the temptation for now. The task at hand is to cleanse them, to rid them of impurity. They remain unwashed and unclean. Therefore, you clench your hands tightly, keeping them submerged in the water. There is a viscous sensation as if you had immersed them in a thick, sticky substance like honey or syrup.

Your imagination stops playing tricks on you for a moment, much to your paranoia and guilt’s utter joy. Perhaps a small mercy, or punishment as now you will be alone with your thoughts once more.

You hold your breath as you count the seconds of you scratching away at your hands. One, two, three, four… you eventually lose count, and by then a small portion of the lake is crimson. Your skin has been rubbed raw and you are bleeding, and when you become aware of this, the pain shoots up your arms and you scream.

“Come on, be proud of what you did.”

There is a chuckle that is akin to those that still haunt your nightmares.

At least you can’t see him, he is just a voice in your head. Though you assume that the real Tartaglia is still out there, waiting to strike. You just wish you could make it to Sumeru before then.

Would you ever be free?

“You did great, you know.”

You do not want Tartaglia’s praise, as false as it is at this moment. Even if he is just a figment, you would rather have no kindness at all, out of both self-hatred and hatred for him.

Would you still be free if you hadn’t killed that agent? You don’t think you would have, you don’t know what that agent would have done to you, if he was sent to catch you or if he was just doing his regular patrols of the area. You don’t know what his plans were. All you know is that he is dead and you are still free. Where whatever his plan had failed, your plan as quickly as it was made had succeeded. You contemplate deluding yourself into thinking that that agent was sent after you, that he did harbor ill-intent towards you and your freedom. 

But you can’t do it, so all you do is put your bloody hands to your face and sob. You taste something metallic in your mouth and it only makes you cry louder. Your tears become mixed with sanguine as they fall and paint your white dress with red dots. You stay in that position for a while after that, but the imaginary Childe’s voice does not leave you for another second.

There is never a peaceful moment, and you don’t know how long you cried for.

“Seriously, stop crying. It sort of ruins how good of a job you did.” After a few more moments of you still loudly weeping, you hear a sigh. “Come on. Don’t be a spoilsport.”

You sniffle into your cut palms.

“Just leave me alone.”

He does not listen to you, as he always does.

iv. “You have turned into the very thing that you vowed to annihilate.”

Screaming. Screaming that is so loud the Golden Finches in the trees all fly away. Screaming too loud, too maddening, to stop and it goes on for about a minute like an alarm. The source of the screaming is you, not that you tried to stop it, blinded by emotion.

The daylight makes you focus on your cut hands, your skin still stained with blood from the night before. The lake’s water has slightly brightened up, and the spot where you cut your hands is less red. 

But your trails sooner than later trail back to what caused your screaming.

Resting in the lush blades of grass beside you lies the source of your frantic cries. Nestled at its center, is a vibrant and tranquil sapphire gemstone adorned with gilded accents that trace the curves of a square. As it draws near to your being, a subtle glow emanates, casting a gentle illumination. A Hydro Vision.

“Aren’t you happy?”

You stare at it. You do not know whether to be happy or continue being miserable. You are deemed worthy and strong by the celestial realm, hence receiving a portion of their formidable might. The only problem is that you had just killed a man. You murdered someone, and you are being rewarded for it.

It is like Tartaglia is here with you, even though you cannot see him.

You know that if you had not killed that agent, you would not be gifted with this.

At least you can defend yourself for real now, even though your self-defense skills are next to none.

You hope this is a joke. There are fake Visions sold in some places, and perhaps it was dropped here by mistake. Maybe a child simply lost theirs. But you know that is not true. There is nothing here but you, this Vision, and your rusty sword. There is nothing else for you, no child coming and snatching up the Vision and running back to wherever they came from.

So you pick it up, and it is slightly cold with little droplets of water on its glowing surface. 

It emits a gentle hum and you can feel its power coursing through your veins. Hydro Visions are said to be a manifestation of the Hydro Archon’s will, a symbol of her sense of justice and benevolence. 

You would laugh if your voice box did not feel like it had just been clawed out of you.

You would laugh if you thought it was funny. But it is not funny, because now you will have to carry this reminder; this permanent keepsake of the man you have killed. It is not funny, but you know Childe would think it was if he ever found out about this.

You cannot escape this because there is no escape. You killed a man and his corpse is there on the bottom of the hill, rotting away, his eyes probably wide and glassy and unblinking. Flies and maggots will soon make him their new home and drill their way into his flesh as he rots, buzzing sounds soon replacing whatever gurgling ones the agent made before he went motionless.

You do not deserve any mercy, because at the end of the day are you really that different from Tartaglia? You both kill those around you to get what you want, the only difference being you killed that man in self-defense, or at least you hope that is what it counts as. You don’t know if you and him are the same. You are no saint. Childe is a sinner. You are a disgrace. Childe is no luminary. 

Or maybe he is. Because of him, you murdered someone. 

Either way, that agent had someone, someone out there who at least was acquaintances with him. Maybe he had a partner, a spouse, a friend, someone back in Snezhnaya waiting for him to return. Now all that they are getting is a body in a bag and maybe some cold condolences if they are lucky enough. 

Your hands still hurt as you hold out one of them and a small fountain of water spouts from your palm. You ball up your fist and close your eyes, making the Hydro power stop. Maybe the heavens know that you and Childe are the same, and that is why they gifted you the same Vision he wields. Whether the Vision of choice was intentional or not though, you know you will never be able to find out, because you are just a human. The divine does not interfere with mortals, after all.

You do not feel good, but you don’t feel bad either, a nauseating mix of both you think. You’re stronger now. You’re more worthy of hell than heaven.

What awaits after you die? What happens when both you and Childe die? If you got into heaven, would Tartaglia tear through the very gates of heaven to get to you? What would happen then? Or if you go to hell, would Tartaglia be able to find you?

If you burn in hell, would the only thing you hear be your thoughts?

You would be alone then. Though you know you are just as alone right now. You are lost in your thoughts, and maybe that is what hell is because you cannot stop them.

You are hungry. The satchel you stole from a Millelith guard ran out of food and water yesterday, and there do not seem to be any apples or sunsettias nearby. You feel so empty.

You think about what caused all of this to happen. You are certain that if Childe had not butted his head into your life if Ji had paid off his debts, if something else had happened, if anything else had happened, if everything else had happened, you would not have killed someone. Hopefully, probably.

You are a murderer.

You hold the title of a killer, yet there may still be a chance to redeem your soul through positive actions. If you dedicate yourself to intense preparation, you could potentially return to Northland Bank and swiftly eliminate Childe. Your motive is driven by the desire to pay Childe back for Ji and all the other lives he has destroyed. You want payback for yourself too. Seeking retribution for yourself is not an act of selfishness but rather a justified response in your opinion. 

A deep longing for revenge quickly blossoms within, causing your heart to race as an ecstatic smile graces your face. The tantalizing allure of revenge consumes your every thought, compelling you to go to any lengths to savor its sweetness. Your unwavering pursuit of justice echoes relentlessly, echoing the call for retribution. Justice, justice, justice, Revenge, revenge, revenge. Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Victory, victory, victory.

You are going to enjoy his suffering, his pain. You are going to enjoy his screams. You are going to enjoy his cruel death, the torture you are going to put him through. You lust after such a moment like a bite from the sweetest, juiciest fruit in all the land. Apples. Peaches, maybe.

Your soul will feast well that day. You will eat and eat until you are the very definition of gluttony itself. Even if you end up a demon, you will be happy that Tartaglia finally got his due.

You cannot wait.

It is not too late for you, for forgiveness, for another chance. It is not too late to salvage at least part of you. 

You laugh then, and it is croaky and hoarse from how loudly you screamed before, but you don’t care. Yes. Yes. Yes. You ignore how much your throat hurts, how much your hands hurt and your ankle hurts. It does not matter.

A sudden clapping sound, slow but clear. You don’t know whether or not you are imagining it, if you are going crazy or not. You are not mishearing things either way. 

Footsteps, cracking branches, and stepping on roots and blades of grass.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

A chuckle.

“Good job.”

v. “Happiness can only be found in surrender.”

[lvlystars]

funny valentine — l.c

pairing. lee chan x fem!reader

genre. angst, toxic!chan 😞

warnings. slight suggestive content. chan is a bitch. big nono man.

wc. 1.1k

a/n. y'all. i'm alive. based on true events btw, i've been declared not guilty, my lawyer hates me, and the man is now screaming at me from the grave 😇. jkjk. it would be crazy if i actually was convicted of murder tho. anyways, if i can't be happy on valentines, no one can !!!!!!!

feburary 14 (3:14 am)

— u up?

you scramble for your phone as your heart beats out of your chest, the mindless scrolling through your 'for you' page ending in that moment he texted you.

what is he doing at this ungodly hour? why was he texting you?

yeah —

— coming over in 5

no. he can't come. he just can't.

you try to text back to refuse, but he had already gone offline. you sigh as you sink into your mattress, turning off your phone as you wait for him to appear at your doorstep.

lee chan. the bane of your existence if you were to summarise your experience with him. on and off relationships, meaningless hookups, unanswered texts about what you two were, what label to put on your relationship — he was the red flag package deal. and yet, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually cut things off with him. while he was all of the above, he made you feel loved, made you feel special with the way every single moment spent with him were the most exhilarating and euphoric moments, chan making sure to hug and kiss every inch of your body while he can, and handling your body with such care, as if you would crumble beneath his fingertips.

lee chan was playing you, and he was good at it.

a couple minutes later, you heard a knock at your door, and you immediately jolt up, your heart palpitating as you pull the covers off of you. once you finally reach the door, you pull it open to see chan leaning against the frame of your door, smirking down at you.

“i knew you’d answer me.” he pats your cheek softly before walking into your dorm uninvited.

“chan-”

“did you rearrange your place? shame, i finally had your dorm layout memorised so i wouldn’t bump into anything while we-”

“chan.” you sternly raise your voice, catching him off guard. he stares back at you, his eyebrow quirked up as he stood there, his hands shoved in his jeans.

“i…i don’t think we should do this anymore.” you stare into chan’s face, your face burning as chan’s eyes bore into yours, his expression morphing into one of slight confusion, a glint of enjoyment flitting across his features as he stalks towards you.

“baby, you're not serious, right? why would you want to let go of this…us?” he moves closer to you, holding you as he soothingly rubs your forearms. you shake your head, trying to squirm out of his grasp as his face lowers down to yours. “you’re my favourite, don’t you know that?” he mutters.

“no.” you push him away, your breathing growing more panicked. “chan, you and i both want completely different things. we are on opposite sides. this isn’t going to work out.” your voice trembles as you move towards your door, feeling cornered as chan continues to move closer to you. he towers over you as you shrink into yourself, feeling completely powerless and helpless.

“but i give you those things you desire, no? and you give me what i want." he tilts his head in mock confusion.

"y/n, honey, we’re two sides on the same coin. we need each other, why would you think something like that?” you can sense the tinge of hostility and toxicity behind his tone as he narrows his eyes at you, reaching his hand out to caress your face. you subconsciously lean into his touch, tears pooling in your eyes as you try to say anything to get out of this monstrosity of a situationship.

“then…then what are we? we’re not dating, you’re not my boyfriend…you hook up with tens of other girls on campus. i want someone who’ll stay loyal to me.” you sputter out, trying to compose yourself to your best ability as chan just laughs lightly, as if you were just stating a silly habit he had.

“we…we’re…we’re, y’know…” you look at him expectantly as chan looks slightly irritated at your persistence, huffing slightly.

“baby, look-”

“no. i don’t want to hear it. i’m tired of the mixed signals. if you’re not going to commit to a relationship, then don’t talk to me.” you cut him off, glaring up at him. you can see chan poking at his cheek with his tongue before he grabs you tightly by your shoulders, catching you off guard as he lowers his face down to yours, glaring at you.

“what, you think you’re special? special enough to have me as your boyfriend?” he mockingly laughs. “honey, there are tons of girls who are dying out there to just have sex with me, and you’re really going to leave all that just because you want to be in a relationship?” chan asks in a condescending manner, and you feel your heart drop to the pit in your stomach. you’ve only seen him get like this whenever he didn’t get his way with other people: his brown eyes filled with belittlement, as if you were a mere inconvenience in his way. his breathing was slowly getting erratic, he’s losing his patience.

lee chan was getting mad at you.

“i don’t know you, i don’t care whether i know you or not. i just saw you on campus, thought you were hot, and just had you to myself, just like other girls. i didn’t talk to you because i liked you.” he sneers, looking you up and down. tears pooled in your eyes as you stared up at chan in disbelief. “you and i do not have any kind of romantic relationship, i’ll tell you that. you want a label on this? fine: we’re just fuckbuddies. nothing more, nothing less.”

“if you’re gonna try crossing the line with all that relationship shit again, then i’m gonna have to just stop what we have, y/n. because i don’t want some brat that bitches about having me to themselves, got it?” he glowers at you. his face was now mere inches away from yours as tears were rolling down your face. you slowly nod before chan stands up straight again, patting your face again as he smiles.

“good girl. now i came here for a reason, ” chan sits down on your bed, smirking at you across the room as you’re still in the corner of the room, hastily wiping your tears before walking over to him. once you’re close enough, he grabs your waist tenderly as he rubs soft circles into your skin, grinning like a wolf while he looks your body up and down, making you feel exposed.

your face grows hot as seconds continue to tick by, and you’re taken aback as chan suddenly stands up, flipping you both around and throwing you onto the bed before he leans over you, leaning down beside your ear as you felt chills run down your body. your heart shatters even more when he whispers:

“happy valentines day, baby.”

tags 🏷️ —

@welcometomyoasis @wqnwoos @etherealyoungk @amxlia-stars @seuonji @star1117-archives @haowrld @kyeomyun @jaehunnyy @shieunviya @choicesthot @shaminari @georgia-hong

networks 🔗 —

@preciousillusions-net @cacaokpop-fics @caratsland @k-labels

SVT WORKS

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comment or send me an ask if you want to be added to my taglist!

ⓒ lvlystars

[superspecial-awesome]

s0 queerosexual hcs. for pride month

basically my interpretation of the cast in this regard is that theyre a bunch of annoying queer teenagers who will never discover this about themselves because they live in 1990s japan and all think there's only gay and straight and that being the former is grounds to be beaten in the streets

Yugi: the only one who has his shit figured out. transmasc and bi and he plans on taking that to his grave. he has a strong preference for women though so that part never really comes up. "attracted to every woman ever and one guy i met at a gas station six years ago" disease. also bonus points anzu knows he's transmasc and helped him figure out binding and shit

Miho: huge lesbian but "oh no it's just that girls are objectively more attractive than guys everyone knows that, i just haven't met the right man yet, besides every girl wishes they could date women instead that's why bakura is so popular it's because he looks like a woman." I also like to imagine that in an ideal world, she'd fuck with genderfluidity

Bakura: aroace and agender transfem. he gives me he/it/any vibes. I think partly due to The Mega Autism he never really understood the deal with traditional masculinity so he feels disconnected from manhood as a whole and would be a lot more comfortable being able to exist as something entirely detached from gender. I also think the swarms of girls at all times made him view women as some sort of other species entirely and he's got a lot of deep-rooted misogyny going on about it, but tbh anzu and miho could fix him. and make him into the vague girlthing he always was

Anzu: Idk what label to slap onto her but I don't think physical appearance or gender plays any role in her being attracted to people at all. maybe like demiromantic asexual. but i dont think demi is the term im looking for. definitely ace though.

Honda: "WOW I LOVE BEING A MAN I LOVE WOMEN AND RULES AND ORDER I DON'T AT ALL FEEL LIKE I'M CURSED TO FIT MYSELF INTO A BOX THAT'S TOO SMALL FOR ME" and he believes that wholeheartedly and then wonders why he needs to constantly prove himself over things that don't matter to avoid his mental health crumbling to dust. I don't think he's trans though I just think he needs to chill out. also he's bi and poly and the single most useless hopeless romantic ever.

Jonouchi: bi but i think his refusal to accept that as a possibility has made him very aware of a lot of other things he has going on psychologically. like his homophobia has somehow made him a more self-aware and chill person. "honda put his hand on my shoulder for more than 0.5 seconds and my entire nervous system took a screenshot does this mean im g--wait no im just touched starved huh i wonder if that has ever impacted my poor decision making in the past." also him being used for the cartoon standard "guy wears girl clothes and likes it" joke is grounds for me to hc him as genderqueer. I could absolutely see him getting really into fem presentation.

Yami Yugi: gay gay homosexual gay

Kaiba: transfem in the super dysphoric way but will absolutely never find this out because any time she becomes remotely aware of something bothering her about herself she just looks in the mirror and says "no." i also wanna say arospec and aspec but idk she's fully either. i think if i wanted to give you an accurate idea of how attraction works for her i'd have to pull up the homestuck quadrants and i'm not joking.

Yami Bakura: agender is a way that's like "dude I'm a ghost in a ring who cares." If you called him a she he'd be like "what" and then after you got two words into explaining he'd go "nvm I underestimated the amount of shit I don't give about this." His sexuality is no time for dat goku

[revivif-y]

Also posted on ao3.

---

Fabian doesn’t know when it started to hurt.

It’s the little things, you know? The stupid things that feel like nothing to everyone else but feels like iron weights to him. Things like Sklonda mussing up Riz’s hair with a grin, the proud look in Sandra Lynn’s eyes when she looks at Fig, the way Gilear worries and worries and worries and the way Jawbone hugs Adaine.

It feels scalding to look at, sometimes. Boiling hot water poured down his throat that he’s forced to swallow down. There’s a deep, roiling shame that reverberates through him in these moments– a feeling that cooks him alive and leaves him thrashing for escape. He can’t stomach it, can’t swallow back the acid and the jealousy and the jagged bitterness that threatens to cut through.

He reigns it in, best as he can– averts his eyes when Ragh and Lydia share a look, focuses hard on his breathing when Gorthalax says “That’s my girl!”

He digs his nails into his palms when the Thistlesprings fuss over Gorgug, tries his damndest not to stare when they pull out bandages for his scrapes after practice. He leaves, mentally, checking out every time because the affection feels like thorns, gnarled and tearing at him if he thinks about it for too long. 

(Because he wants it. He wants it so, so bad that the absence feels like it’s eating him alive. Chunks of flesh torn away as his bones flake and crumble, a void where his chest should be.)

(It doesn’t hurt, most days.)

(But other times it’s all he can feel.)

Fabian breaks, sometimes. Only sometimes, not all the time– only when he’s fallen far enough that he thinks he can change anything.

When Fabian breaks, (chest heaving with stuttering breaths, palms clammy and his mind swimming) he calls people. A truly pathetic display he’s glad only he can witness.

Calling his Mama is one thing: Fabian lets it ring, feels the droning ringtone vibrate in the air, the sound measured as he dry heaves in his room. Calls once, then twice, then three times. Over and over until the sound lulls him to sleep or he’s worked up enough that this makes him shatter his phone against a wall.

She always apologizes for missing them, after. There’s always something– another stroke of good luck for Gilear, she was asleep, she was partying, she was sunbathing, she was drunk– always, always something, but when he checks her Crystalgram it says she posted it while he called and that. That.

It breaks him. Chips away at him further, shards shattering into splinters pulverized into dust. It shatters him, eats at him, rends him limb from limb as he screams in his empty manor and wonders why.

He thinks of calling his Papa, sometimes. At his lowest, at his darkest and most wretched. He thinks of broadcasting his misery onto all of Hell for even the slightest chance that he will answer– that Bill Seacaster will race to his voice like a beacon and tell his son that everything will be okay. That there is nothing wrong with him and that he loves him and that he is never, ever alone.

…It’ll never happen, though. Contrary to popular belief, Fabian knows how to be realistic.

(His Papa loves him. He does. Fabian knows he does.)

(Just not that much.)

He tries not to put too much stock into these one-sided calls– tells himself that no parent would drop everything for their kids, would come running if they called, kill the Devil just to return home. No parent would do that, it’s unrealistic and certainly not for someone his age.

He’s the man of the house. He’s the man of the house.

(“I told my dad about you guys,” Riz told them, once, his voice soft yet so happy. “He said he listens, you know, every time I go to his grave and talk. I only really tell him the cool shit, but…”)

(Riz grins, wide and toothy.)

(“He told me to tell him about the mundane, too.”)

It takes a few seconds for Fabian to realize that the wheezing, ragged breaths in the room are coming from him.

The thing is. The thing is.

The thing is that Fabian doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

Harsh, ragged crying spills past his lips, spikes of pain blooming from his palms. They’re reddened and his nails are bloody but he doesn’t care– Fabian rips off his eyepatch, stares at scarred skin and an empty eye socket and cries.

The noise he makes is broken, almost animalistic as silver hair covers his face, sticking to his skin. He feels like a wound, oozing and raw and searing with pain. He feels broken. He feels like something unworthy of love, the kind that stays hidden in the basement because the rot of him is too ghastly to stomach.

Questions rattle and whirl around in his head– a hurricane of sinking ships and splintering wood, blood pooling in the waters.

Questions like why and why not and why can’t I have that. Questions like is it me, is there something wrong with me, is it something I’ve done wrong. Questions become statements become I would change myself if I could. I would mold myself into what you wanted if I could. Teach me how teach me how teach me how teach me how.

I would if I could and I want to be loved. I want to be loved and I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I wish that I did because then I could fix it and I’ll be worthy I’ll be loved and I’ll be wanted.

There are sharks under the water in his mind, sharp teeth and smelling blood as Fabian bleeds, bleeds, and bleeds.

Why don’t you want me? He wants to scream. At the grey, thundering skies, at the endless, unfeeling torrent of rain. He thinks of his Father, battling devils in the fiery realm of Hell. He thinks of his Mother, lounging in the sun and giggly with wine, relaxed and happier while Fabian’s at home. He thinks of them, and he thinks of Sklonda, of Gorthalax, of Sandra Lynn and Gilear and Jawbone and Lydia and all the others that love their children like they’re gifts and not a curse. 

He thinks of the way his Mama looks at him and his chest rips wide open as the sharks rip and tear at his flesh. He thinks of how far away her love feels and how he misses his Papa and he’s drowning, drowning, drowning.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Fabian wakes up. He looks like a wreck.

He pushes himself to his feet. His palms sting, his throat dry and raspy.

It’s just another bad day, Fabian tells himself, dull-eyed as he drinks mouthfuls of water, wiping at his lip. It’s just another bad day.

Fabian wakes up, just as alone as when he passed out.

…It’s okay. It’s okay.

(That’s the only thing it can be.)

[acourtofquestions]

For being a “romance” writer I actually think the best love stories shown in the Maasverse are not romantic:

The platonic & “found family” storylines; Primarily the SISTERHOOD is what I think lands next level.

*stay with me here*

The Archeron Sisters: dysfunctional — YES — but aren't siblings always?🤣 They however, not only carry the plot; (example) THEY kill Hybern. But, they ALSO carry the greatest character development; (ex.) NESTA! And in that propel the two; (ex-LITERALLY the BEGINNING of the ENTIRE series) why does Feyre go with Tamlin to Prythian in the first place? — to protect/save her sisters. The 3 of them serve as a key to the heart of the story. Their dysfunction as children (reminder: they were children) revolved both around carrying the weight of their parents mistakes, a village that abandoned & scorned, and their failures to themselves & each other; but in the end, they are redeemed. At the end of the day, they ARE sisters, & they love each other; they will go to the grave for that, they will come home to that, and they will keep trying & surviving, fighting with & for that… Without them there is no story… it ends long before it begins; the high lady dies with her child, the man of shadow never laughs, the son of autumn stays in suffocating spring, the blood letter bleeds to death, no ships appear in the war, the mortal world is forgotten falling to ruin unseen & unspoken, the world crumbles under the mountain as violet eyes go out, no paint coats the cabin, the eldest daughter freezes in her barren bitter cold, the flower child wilts in the bereavement of once being beloved, the girl stays alone never knowing more never feeling love never having a thing to fight for; she never kills the wolf. The story is untold without the Archeron Sisters.

The Valkyrie: beyond the Archeron sisters we have a sisterhood that was built out of shared trauma & shared strength beyond blood-bound; a storyline that I found quite literally healing to read (especially for women who have lived through trauma and abuse; a group that’s voice is not often heard enough) & hitting home dearly for any woman who has experienced found sisterhood; you know, it is a different kind of love; one that would go to war for each other, a love that knows more, adores wholly (seeing & knowing better, more, deeper, further; unconditional). Their friendship is very VERY powerful; from the quite literal physical sense, and the greater sense of empowerment (both to the characters, storyline/plot & the readers); plus extra props to being able to change Nesta’s mind (that alone is a feat worthy of godesshood😂). And the heroine’s of the storyline; one that exceeds a singular book & enters the real world; almost becoming an entire series of a new world (even without the tale to read; though I hope for more someday).

I can’t speak of Valkyries & Archeron Sisters without speaking to our other ancient brethren of heroes; THE BAT BOYS: I feel like another group in contrast that is not always given a voice that allows emotion is friendships among men (they are either acceptable by “bro” codes with a double-back-pat ONLY, or demeaned as for showing normal human emotion) so, I appreciate that here we have powerful & strong heroes (that are portrayed as such) while having platonically loving friendships/found family (that does not revolve around demeaning women). And what a powerful/beautiful century spanning tear-jerking true-love showing story it is; one that is a key to the heart & psyche of these characters; & that I think the story would not exist without. They have loved each other through everything; from start to end, they have fought side by side, they were the heart before there was a story. They were what they were fighting for… you could say the true treasure was the friends they made along the way… like 500 years ago… & I mean doesn’t that say enough? — Who would you spend 500 years with? — Well, whatever the answer is: THAT is true love.

[aiysan2]

Chapter 7 'Going Under' Dabi x reader

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"Put me on your back," You told him, now clothed as you tried to jump on his back. 

"Whatever," He rolls his eyes, keeping his hands under your thighs to secure you. 

The two of you walked back to the festivities in blissful silence remembering the events of the hour before. You knew that little cave of yours was going to be a constant location of the two of you. 

You could feel the heat of the blazing fire in the distance, though it could've just been your partner, you had no idea.

You looked at the edge of the forest noticing Maame and The Elder, conversing as if they were in great distress.

"Touya," You pointed in the direction of the two, "let us see what is wrong with them," He walked in your desired direction, despite his reluctance to speak to anyone but you.

The two heard the soft crunch of leaves, their attention turning to the both of you. Maame scrunched up her face, examining the closeness between you two as if it was a filth that shouldn't exist.

"So it is true?" She asks, you notice her upset climbing off of Dabi's back to comfort her. Her hand snaps back before striking you across the face, a sharp sting spreading across your cheek. Dabi's hand lit up almost immediately threatening to be used on the lady for even thinking of attacking you.

"Wait!" You demanded, holding your hand up at him, your other holding your stinging cheek, trying to figure out where this rage had come from. "Maame?" Tears began to fill your lashline, shocked that the woman you saw as your mother had harmed you. 

"You!" She yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Dabi, "Have allowed your twisted outsider views to corrupt this girl and convinced her to commit an atrocious act before the required time!" Her anger was evident with the activation of her quirk, something you had never seen her use even when you were a child - she, only in her 20s, being attacked for stealing from The Elders' cabin.

The ground below your feet becomes unstable as it crumbles away little by little. 

"Ryuko you must calm down." The quivering elder muttered, though his face held a large smirk like he had finally hit the jackpot.

Maame took a deep breath, holding her tongue from cursing you out or dropping boulders on both people at the same time. 

"Please tell me what you mean?" You asked, suddenly distressed despite knowing exactly what she meant by what she said.

"He saw you, he saw you two galavanting and touching and entering some cave, I have seen the two of you together touching and flirting as if you were teenagers, I've seen him degrade you sexually with his eyes I know he has touched you!" She took a step towards you, pulling at your clothes. 

You fought for your decency wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to shove her away with your elbows.

"I know his markings are on you!" She yelled as if possessed.

Dabi stepped in once again his blue flame catching the corner of your eye, about to cause damage to your mother figure that would probably be irreparable.

"Stop, please do not hurt her!" You shouted, the two involved in a tussle ceasing movements altogether to watch you as you sobbed, you knelt on the floor, hands grabbing at Maame's feet.

You knew your connection with your creator was wrecked as soon as Touya became part of your bubble, your prayers interrupted with thoughts of him. Your chores stopped to ask him useless questions and talk to him about the mundane. He had taken away your main reason to live and replaced it with himself, making your belief sway.

"All we did was kiss I swear it to my grave," You sobbed, your heart twisting from the lie, making you cry even more while Dabi stood stunned.

The Elder smirked, opening his mouth to spout useless blubber.

"Our pure angel has been tainted by this beast from the outside, she is crying Ryuko. She feels guilt for allowing the devil to poison her mind, to insert the seed of temptation!"

His shouts called the attention of your sect, if not that then your pleading cries as you confessed to sin. Upon the arrival of his fighters, he used a signal to let them know to hold Touya down. Sick thoughts raced through his head as he thought of how to provoke the man in front of him.

He stepped around your shrunken form, reaching his old hand down to your nape, holding you tight as he pulled you upwards. Your snivelled face reddened with blood while tears dripped down your face out of guilt and fear of punishment.

"You have allowed his dirtied lips on yours, you no longer fear the one who created and spent time making you with perfection, you go and commit the original sin a conspiracy against your maker. The punishment is clear."

You hold your breath, fearing what he would do to you, anything but fire you hoped you couldn't stand the idea of being burned.

"The boy will be exiled while the girl will be pitted,"

You couldn't let Dabi leave, you weren't sure you knew a time when you could live without him there. If he left you'd spend every moment of every day searching for him in the trees, in the birds, in your cute frog. You couldn't have him leave you here.

"Please, he didn't do anything, it was me. I forced him to, I begged him to-"

"She's lying!" Dabi shouted, finding the whole scene ridiculously medieval. The way that man was speaking to you was degrading, the way he was even holding you sent unpleasant shivers down his spine and the way he looked at you provided enough evidence to prove that he was the one who touched you.

"I am not, he is just trying to protect me. I pulled him to the cave. I plotted against our maker. I threatened him if he didn't touch me. I told him I would get him punished if he didn't comply. I made him kiss me!" You cried, your body sagging as you curled into the ground clutching the soil while you became overwhelmed.

You hadn't lied like this before, you had never been this persistent you had never begged like this before, never felt this strong need to protect someone it was all too much. 

"My trial! I always remember the feeling and wanting to know if I'd get the same thing from a kiss, my mind has been corrupt since,"

Dabi squinted his eyes, completely confused. Were you saying that you forced him to kiss you cause you liked being touched when a teen? What type of fucked cult bull shit is this?

"You guys are fucked in the head," He muttered for that man to hear.

The Elder, held his hand up for silence, the mutters in the crowd coming to a halt as he thought of the punishment to be used.

"By morning I do not want to see you here, you must be gone, if not you will be executed. Is that understood Dabi?" He sneered, holding the urge to smirk at his obvious victory over you. 

"No please!" You begged wrapping your arm around the much older man's leg.

"Y/n can you not see the evil woven into the scars on his face? The deceit he has held over all of us. Look at him once more, he was raised in hate, born in grief and I am doing you a favour by making this disgrace leave our Swarga. Thank me for not killing him instead,"

You thought you didn't have any more tears but they were evident as more spilled out of your eyes, your throat dry and croaky as you groaned, your head hurting from all the despair this man was causing you. Yet despite it all, your emotions dimmed out and you thanked him.

" Very good of you, I will lower your punishment back to the pit, it was going to be branding," 

Dabi knew well enough that man wasn't going to brand you, but your eyes widened in fear, lips zipping immediately as you quivered.

You didn't protest when a fighter picked you from the floor guiding you to the pit that Touya had heard you speak of. ' A boxed grave' is how you described it, spiders and beetles crawling in the confined space with only enough room for you to breathe. One couldn't move in the pit without warning a snake that you were a threat and it should attack. There wasn't enough space to lay on your side and sleep, and one wouldn't want to sleep due to the hardwoods and fear that a rat may eat your toes as you snooze. 

You hated the pit, though from what you told him, you were a very frequent visitor.

He observed he had finally gotten what he wanted, a chance to leave. His thoughts, however, were on you. He promised himself that he would leave with you if given the chance. He couldn't leave and spend his days missing the hippie cult that wanted to kill him rather than his overbearing father and silent mother.

The Elder watched as the crowd dispersed, already bored of what was going on while Maame stood still, chewing on her lip anxiously.

"I'll fucking kill you, you know," Touya threatened, but he knew he wouldn't do it because it would upset you and he wouldn't do anything to make you upset.

"You will further prove you aren't one of us and be killed by Elders of other sects if not by the residents," He grinned, if he was a young man he would be clicking his heels in glee.

"You're fucked in the head, speaking to her like all this is real like all this getting high and praying to some creator is good. I know it was you who fucking touched her as well, you put your dirty hands on her and made her hold that stupid thing that makes her think she's forsaken!" Touya hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time, a hatred that he usually reserved for his father spilling out of his mouth.

"Oh so you know," The man laughed eyes gleaming red as he activated his quirk, freezing Touya in place, " She must have told you how I gazed upon her virgin body and took my time touching her, she must have told you the sounds she made in her confused haze, how she enjoyed the touch of her elder over that of the children we scatter around here. Did she tell you about how I installed a fear of temptation by punishing her birth mother for her reaction? How I made her watch as I set the woman alight and told her she would go to hell because her daughter allowed herself to enjoy a man's touch. " 

He chuckled to himself like a madman, watching Touya's paralysed body as his eyes shifted with anger trying to cause harm to him. He relished in Dabi's hatred.

"You must think I'm sick, but worse happens on the outside that is why me and my friends created this haven, a small lie to protect people like Y/n from demons like you. I will be the first to have her body and by that time you will be a forgotten memory just like her whore mother-"

The man's face fell forward passing out almost instantly, possibly dead.

Dabi took a deep inhale, holding his head in confusion, his eyes clear as he noticed Maame stood behind him with a rock in her hand, obvious betrayal and confusion in her eyes like she was two seconds away from a manic episode.

That's probably what happens when one finds out their daughter had been touched when they were younger.

Oh and the fact their place of living had been created by a group of friends.

"You must leave now." She muttered, her face holding high levels of disgust as that man's words rang in her ear.

"I will just tell me where is this pit, where's Y/n?" 

Maame, held his hand, pulling him around the passed-out partiers, and the few overdosing. She brought him into the forest, a dark, cold and wet part and pointed at the leaves covering a rectangular opening.

"You must take her and leave, do not return to this place again,"

"And what about you?" He asked, foreign feelings brewing inside him, was this pity?

"I'm going on a walk." She stated, staring into space as she walked silently into the darker parts of the forest, thoughts of death fickling in her mind.

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

You lay still and silent, trying to keep your mind as blank as possible so as to not feel anything. Your mind registered the rushed voices above you as partiers trying to find their way to their cabins to lie down. 

You held yourself tightly, reminding yourself not to think.

Then the heavy door of your confinement swung open, your eyes went wide a smile spreading across your face as you saw your lover reaching a hand inside to help you out.

You suppressed the urge to cry already high on emotions thinking that he saved you. Saved you from an endless agony, or from being forgotten inside this coffin.

"You came for me?" You smiled, grinning from ear to ear. He ignored your words, remembering what that chunky woman told him before walking deeper into the forest.

"We have to leave this place" He urged, holding your hand and pulling to drag you while your mind caught up with his words. 

"Wait Touya!" You exclaimed, yanking your hand back to your body. "Leave where?" You asked.

"Swarga or whatever this fucking hellhole is called," He heaved, already disgusted he has to spend more time in the countryside.

"Do not curse," You scold.

"I have no time for this pious bullshit, that man is going to wake up any second and will kill me on the spot do you understand,"

"No, he wouldn't he gave you until morning, we have until morning to convince him to let you stay," You affirmed.

"Don't be stupid, that won't work, we need to go and now!" He stepped forward pulling on your hand once again to drag you to the tall trees separating the forest of the commune and the forest near his city

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" You exclaimed taking a few steps away from him in case he tried to grab you again.

"Why not? I'll keep you safe" His voice was impatient though he kept it calm as if trying to calm a child.

"How will you keep me safe, you are the one who came to repent because you want to murder your family. I do not want to harm my family in any of my dreams. In my dreams, they stay safe with me. I grow old with Leilani and Iguchi, I tend to Maame as she ages and I remain here, in Swarga." Your voice raised, your brain trying to understand his reasoning as to why he wanted to leave your home.

"Maame might not even stay here herself, she just ran away now because your pedo elder admitted to this place being fake," He shouted, stalking towards you in his yukata, finding it weird that you didn't want to leave all this hippie shit behind.

"I do not care," Your hands curled into fists, your stubborn nature peeking through.

"What?" His brows furrowed.

"I do not care. My family reside here, we are at peace here, we eat together, live and sleep together, we have been around each other since young I cannot abandon them and even if this place is a lie, I do not believe it is, I am happiest here."

"Even after they locked you in a grave!" He scoffed

"Yes, I love them,"

" Even though they burned your mother,"

Your eye twitched, you had never dumped that memory from your brain, it was the main reason you hated fire, but you had caused it, not them. When someone does something bad they must pay for the crime.

"It was for a greater good,"

"Do you hear what the fuck you're saying? You said your mother deserved to die because some guy assaulted you."

"It was a trial,"

He couldn't believe how indoctrinated you sounded as if you had rehearsed your lines to make yourself sound deluded.

"A trial that no other girl had to do?" he rolled his eyes "You're not that dumb."

"Stop insulting me!"

"Stop giving me opportunities," The two of you stay silent arms folding and glaring at each other. You wanted to hit him for proposing such a stupid idea to you. You felt like he didn't understand, he wasn't seeing how much your life here meant to you as a person and how you were the best version of yourself.

"And how would we leave without Amaliqah, without my notebook, my clothes, did you think of that?" You snapped, feeling your mind cloud with the things The Elder accused Dabi of being, and things he accused you of being that wouldn't have been brought up if Dabi didn't bring up his outside ideals.

"I don't care about a frog, I care about you, and I can't leave you here knowing that, that man is alive and well and could harm you again." He sounded vulnerable, like he would break down and cry in a second just like old Touya would, before you came and changed him for the better.

"I'm not going with you." You stood your ground fighting the urge to cry as you stared with upright authority.

"Y/n,"

"No, you should leave, you have your father to argue with, your hatred for him surpasses your love for me, so please go to him, I choose family as well but out of love." You fired.

"Y/-"

"please leave immediately, I would hate to call the fighters if I see you again." You declared, turning your back to him as you felt tears fill your eyes. Were you going to let your soulmate leave your sight, was he willing to end it all? Didn't he see that your religion was dearer than he could ever be?

Touya paused, watching as you turned away from him wrapping your arms around your own body. He wanted to just pick you up and run away, but you'd hate him even more for that. Despite all the arguing he always had a knowing of where your priorities lie. 

" What do you dream of?" You had never answered his question, always saying that you were content with your life and that you didn't need anything, yet you had known for the past 4 hours that he dreamt of you morning, day and night. Did he seriously not matter to you enough to not want to run away with him?

"I am sure it is not you," You answered, still refusing to look in his direction.

He wanted to accuse you of lying, he wanted to continue arguing since that would be the only way to speak to you, but you seemed finished and stubborn.

He turned around walking away to never see you again.

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[dapandapod]

Brave your neck to see the sun

Just another thing that lives in my head rent free that is half a fic, half an idea, that begs to be written, so here is the mix of it. And because who I am as a person, I slapped it on Ao3 as well.

(cw, lettenhove has fallen, sad stuff in general, loss of family, their spirits)

Because....

Cursed Jaskier.

I mean, he is immortal, and his home, Lettenhove, is but crumbled rock by now, and jaskier is tied to their ruins. 

And maybe madness is threatening in the corner of his eye, maybe the past is talking to him, maybe the stones remembered what they looked like in ages past.

And Jaskier cannot leave.

Maybe this is where jaskier goes after the mountain, because when he last was home, it was still standing.

But the land is fallen, burned, ash on his tongue.

Maybe there was a curse put on the stones rather than him, keeping what remains of the family bound to the ground, for the dynasty to defend against an army should they return.

And Jaskier is caught in the ruins, and the remains of his family and his childhood.

Geralt finds Ciri, and she dreams of Yennefer, yes, but she cant' stop dreaming of a land that was, and she feels herself pulled there, but it is too dangerous, because it is on the other side of the army following her.

When they finally go, the survivors in the gathering of houses on the outskirts of Lettenhove speak of a ghost, of lights as the darkness is falling, of the sound of crying, and singing, sometimes laughing.

It takes time for them to make it up there, the magic fighting them every step of the way, making it treacherous and dangerous.

Jaskier can hear them coming, but they are not the first ones attempting to seek the treasures of what once was, and he hides.

They find a lute, broken in what seems in a fit of rage against the stones. some of the strings are still connecting the neck to the body, and Geralt feels a pang of fear when he recognizes it.

Jaskier has had time to make many hiding spots, a routa of sorts, of small camps. There are weeds growing around the cracked stones, sticking up defiantly, baring their necks to see the sun.

Eventually Geralt finds Jaskier, hiding in one of the crumbled rooms, a half burned painting propped up against the wall, a little girl with one eye covered with yellow locks looking out, holding the hand of her older brother.

Jaskier holds his dagger out, until he realizes who it is.

Geralt doesn’t know how to break the curse, and it hurts Jaskier to leave. They can’t stay with him, and to not raise suspicion they have to leave him behind.

Jaskier watches them leave, and he knows that he won’t see them again. Why would Geralt come back after all, now that Jaskier finally can’t follow.

He waits until he can’t see them anymore, until he believes they can’t hear him anymore, and he screams out his frustrations, voice echoing against the stones.

Eventually Yennefer finds him, and she has the solution. Not a pleasant one, but one that allows him to leave.

His bloodline is tied to this place, imprinted on him when his fathers father brought him underground and a small child, and put his blood among his ancestors.

What Jaskier thought was madness was instead shattered remains of a spirit.

With the witch’s help, Jaskier’s mother’s spirit wakes, and she cries when she sees her son.

“Where were you?” She asks, she grieves, she screams, until her rage has run its course.

More spirits rise, and Yennefer keeps them safe in the middle of the courtyard.

The curse can’t be lifted, but they learn that Jaskier can be freed, can move on from his past if he lifts his imprint away from the stone.

A grave hag has taken residence below, her cackling and grunting traveling up the stairs, and Yennefer too must leave Jaskier, to bring a witcher to help.

Her magic is still fragile, and she places her hand on Jaskier’s cheek as he takes her goodbye, leaving him with the spirits of his family.

Eventually it is Eskel who kills the hag, keeping Jaskier company when he laughs a little too loudly, his eyes a little too wide with unrest and grief.

When Yennefer finally returns, she brings Geralt and Ciri once more, and they are surprised to see Eskel by Jaskier’s side, the hag dealt with.

Yennefer presses Jaskier’s cut palm against the cold stone of his ancestors, chanting as she recalls his blood, distangles his past from the stone.

Above, the ruins creak and groan, the spirits growing agitated. They shriek and they trash and they try to protect their home from the intruders.

When they emerge, Jaskier is quiet. He is quiet as he tests his first steps outside the ruin grounds, and he is quiet when he looks back to what was his home, and then his prison.

The ground is covered in weeds, slowly dancing in the wind, the spirits keeping their own company.

Lettenhove is no more, and the ruins remain unbothered. 

Sometimes Jaskier returns, just to speak with his sister. Sometimes he sings to his mother, and talks about the worldly affairs with his father.

Jaskier is not tied to the stone anymore, but his spirit will not rest until his family does.

Ciri doesn’t dream of the ruins anymore, but sometimes she gets a faraway look, takes Jaskier’s hand, and asks if he would take her to the coast.

Geralt and Yennefer never reconnected after the djinn. and eventually finds another djinn to break the wish.

She finds her own way, even if it is connected to Ciri’s, and she finds her own destiny in the shape of a Merigold.

It takes time for Geralt to build up what he broke. Takes time to figure out how friendship works, and even more so when Geralt figures out his own feelings towards the bard.

The bard is not the same man, how could he be, but he grows anyway. Grows like a defiant weed in the cracks of a stone, baring their neck to see the sun. 

[v3nusxsky]

Could I request a lady lesso X ever!reader. R is in their final year of school about to graduate (and is 18) they are the model student because of their extremely strict parents; head girl, perfect scores and always willing to help anyone in need. However their facade of perfection is slowly crumbling around them because of their massive crush on lady lesso who is the only one who sees through all of the perfectionist control freak bs r holds up as being them when in reality their a mess of anxiety and depression. Their work load, mental health and crush eventually become too much for r to handle and they end up having a breakdown in the middle of a school assembly about how to become the best version of yourself. They end up running out and lesso finds them contemplating ending things. R explains everything to lesso and how as an ever they should never have allowed themself to fall for lesso as they will no doubt be disowned by their family for being gay and in love with a never and how no matter what they've tried they can't stop the feelings they have. R being so worked up and without thinking ends up kissing lesso but lesso tells r to stop because she thinks she is the reason for rs suicidal thoughts which leads r to say they don't regret falling in love with her they only regret letting their family own them and couldn't handle not being with lesso. It ends with them happy together and lesso helping r figure out how to put less pressure on themself.

Forbidden Love

*Authors note ~ this one is gonna be a tough one. Yet I'd be lying if I said I didn't have amazing fun writing it. This happens to be one of my favourite tropes*

Trigger warning~ burning out, anxiety and depression hints of homophobia suicidal thoughts

Prompt~ see ask^^^

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You had quite the reputation in the school for good and evil. Your final year now, you had strings of awards and certificates to celebrate every achievement you had. You were head girl, a straight A student and always going above and beyond for anyone who needs it. The professors absolutely adore you, for years you'd managed to keep this facade up. The perfect child, student and the friend. Yet you held secrets, buried so deep within yourself, that's you almost didn't know they were there. Almost.

It was forbidden you knew that. A massive red warning sign screaming for you to avoid. Not only were you not supposed to be Sapphic but she was your teacher. Sapphic felt right for you, lesbian although accurate you didn't feel as comfortable with the label. The negative associations with it made you really hate yourself, yet sapphic didn't have those connections and it sounded softer and lighter. You didn't bother telling anyone, it was a secret you'd take to the grave with you, after all you couldn't come out. No your parents would lose it at you. And you'd lose that reputation you'd fought so hard to build. You would truly be a disappointment and that thought alone killed you.

You were emotional, you knew that, yet you didn't expect the school assembly to get you in such a state. All the feelings of fear, disgust, anxiety, and pure hate bubble within you. Your need to be in control and protect your reputation causing you to burn out and truthfully hate yourself. You didn't want to live a lie but you couldn't be yourself either, that was something you didn't want either. The assembly hit you hard, all about being who you are accepting yourself and others despite your differences. A constant reminder that you weren't perfect and you never would be. And that thought caused tears to force themselves free from the confines of your eyes, the air struggling to inflate your lungs as your body trembled. Your legs instantly started to carry you from the hall itself, unsure where you were going, you just continued to mindlessly run.

Your secret girlfriend noticed you left abruptly and left instantly after, hot on your heels. When she found you, you looked absolutely broken, you'd curled up, back to the wall sobbing and mumbling about how you can't do this anymore. Things needed to stop. To change. But you didn't want it. But you did. Your thoughts all jumbled and truly making no sense for the older women.

"Little one?" She murmured grabbing your attention and you instantly spilled everything. About how you shouldn't have fallen for the women, about how you needed to be perfection and nothing less. Knowing that as soon as this came out you'd be disowned and lose everything yet you couldn't fight your feelings for her. You didn't want to truly. But everything was so hard and confusing. Why couldn't you just be you, and love who you want to love? You couldn't do this anymore and you couldn't stop yourself, you lurched forward and pressed your lips to Lady Lesso. The kiss was sweet and hesitant and you'd be lying if you said the way she pulled back from you hurt. The rejection you felt worse than anything else you'd been previously feeling. You'd completely made a fool of yourself. Why would she want you?

"Little one, you can't, we can't, I can't be the reason you feel like this love. Don't get me wrong I want you. I truly do, I desire you more than anything else but I can't be the cause of this pain" you mumbled the hurt and confusion was soaking her words and your heart broke. "Leo, no! I don't regret loving you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I just wish I could do it openly. Freely. Where my parents didn't have so much control over me. I need you Leo. Please don't leave me. I love you and I'll never regret it."you whimpered holding her gaze, eyes pleading with her to hear your words and see the truth in them.

"Little one, I'm so so sorry my love. I'm here. We will take it slow darling. Start to slowly take things off that beautiful mind of yours okay? Work on making you feel content in your own skin. I'll be here all the way okay?" She murmured and you nodded throwing yourself into her arms mumbling thanks and reassurance of your love for her. She held you until you had calmed yourself down before guiding your lips to meet hers in a sweet kiss. Claiming you as hers. And you kissed back instantly, loving just how right it felt. Maybe you'd lose your family but you'd be free and with your Leo and that would be worth it all

Word count ~1138

[they-them-van]

i'm thinking about how hozier said "Honey, I wanna race you to the table / If you hesitate, the getting is gone" and how the yellowjackets are racing against time, racing against the wilderness, racing against themselves to find sustenance; one hesitation (misty pulling nat back, nobody bringing jackie in from outside, travis not being able to follow nat) can cost a life.

about "Throw enough rope until the legs have swung" and "Skinning the children for a war drum", how eventually hunted girls will be strung up to drain and how javi's clothes, the second skin of the only child among them, were removed so that the rest of the team could have a better chance of survival.

about "We can celebrate the good that we've done / I won't lie, if there's something still to take / There is ground to break, whatever's still to come" and the celebration of fresh meat, the bacchanal, the way the relief of something to eat drowns out any grief that might be felt; but also, food only makes them hungrier, lets the cracks in their stomachs grow bigger, until they dig pits used to hunt each other and take from their teammates until there's quite literally nothing left.

thinking about "Turning back to shore again / Above the outer atmosphere of a world he's never seen / And looking down to his new home, he feels the rising of a wave / And knows at once he will not weather it", how Lottie, who has led them through so much, doesn't recognize the teammates she crashed with, doesn't know what she's unwillingly created, and seems to sense that whatever the others are swept up in will drown her too --- even 25 years later, all of them are barely keeping their heads above the tide.

about "I looked down into the depths when I met you / I couldn't measure it" and laura lee recognizing something in lottie, taking her in, quite literally looking down at her as she welcomed lottie into her beliefs yet never able to participate in lottie's created belief system in the same way.

about "Measure the silence of a house / The unheard footsteps at the doorway / The unemployment of the mouth / The waking up, having forgotten / And remembering again the full extent of what forever is", how painful every morning waking up to a silent, freezing cabin would be, a team of teenagers reduced to silence by their stomachs in order to conserve energy, the lost members --- a team divided into those who are gone, and those who wake up every morning and wonder when they'll be gone.

about "With each grave / I think of loss and I can only think of you" and how shauna has to confront the reality of the part she played in jackie's fate every single time the yellowjackets hunt, every time another one of them dies for their survival, every time they dig another pit but end up with nothing to bury in graves.

thinking about "Do you think I'd give up / That this might've shook the love from me / Or that I was on the brink? / How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?", "My life was a storm, since I was born / How could I fear any hurricane?" and van, who took care of her mother and tried to make sense of her life as a teen, taking care of taissa --- following her when she's sleepwalking, keeping her safe even when it brings her close to the cliff herself, trying to understand it so that taissa can have peace of mind --- van, who's in her thirties and still taking care of her mother and taissa and everyone around her and trying to make sense of her life while knowing that she doesn't have much left.

about "I'll tell them put me back in it", van looking into the eye of the storm and gritting her teeth. the woman who's supposed to be dead, burnt to a crisp, taking the crumbling foundation she's been given and trying her best to build it into something she can be proud of.

in conclusion i better fucking hear some hozier in the next season of yj

[dykesadie]

i have a lot of thoughts abt karen and molly... karen's dislike for molly early on bcz she's a poor girl whose lived a hard life who has to share the same space with a rich girl who is told she doesn't have to work, just sit there and look pretty. karen already has a lot of dialogue about her plight with being a woman in this age, it makes sense she doesn't like molly. doesn't even envy her, just dislikes her. and for good reason, molly rly doesn't think she has to work either, she came from a rich family and was told by dutch she can just be his beautiful arm candy and was romanced by him and his promises of a rich outlaw life, which karen very much knows doesn't rly exist. the more paranoid molly becomes the more she argues with everyone, accusing karen of being a slut and slapping her for 'disrespecting' her and 'saying things about her' (which karen could be saying shit abt her, or she could be just be obvious abt who she doesn't like and doesn't care who knows it. or molly rly is just that paranoid). molly so obviously coming from a place of privilege and entitlement its no wonder karen doesn't like or respect her.

as the story progresses and she gets shoved further n further into the corner, the life that was promised to her crumbling bcz dutch is a bastard and a liar, reality of it all closing in on her in a way she rly doesn't deserve, i think karen holds a lot of pity and compassion for her when molly starts to break down. i think she would want to feel some kind of triumph over seeing her fall so hard but she just can't. maybe she relates to her too much to feel superior about it. at some point in chap 4 theres an interaction where karen goes to try and have a conversation with molly bcz shes very distressed, whispering to herself and rly losing it. karen tries to have a heart to heart with her, despite it all. telling her basically she doesn't judge her for struggling, for loving someone, but molly is too far gone to rly listen. and whether you think karen loved sean or not i think its obvious she related to molly in feeling alone and abandoned. and if she rly did love sean more than she let on she definitely related to being heartbroken in a very raw way.

we know how molly felt about the rest of the gang. she wanted to be liked but was isolated from them (bcz of dutch) and eventually became very paranoid they all hated her (and in some degree, they did) but karens feelings about her seem to take a full 180 if you weren't paying too much attention to them. karen had more compassion than she let on and more than she wanted i think and that was part of her own downfall.

Molly left and no one looked for her and then was shot and murdered while she was drunk and heartbroken, burnt with no grave. karen disappears at some point, also heartbroken and drunk to numb the pain and its suspected she died to the drink, lost with no grave. they knew each other more than they ever thought

[jbuffyangel]

Best Friends: Arrow 1x19 Review (Unfinished Business)

“Unfinished Business” takes a hard look at Oliver’s friendships with Tommy and Diggle, as one relationship crumbles and the other finds stronger footing – after a few missteps.

Prepare yourselves. I might write about the flashbacks this week because Shado provided an information download which was sorely needed.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver and Tommy

Oliver revealed his true identity to Tommy three episodes ago and it feels like their friendship has been a bomb waiting to explode ever since. A girl who partied at Verdant dies from a Vertigo overdose, which puts Quentin hot on Tommy’s trail and Oliver hot on The Count’s. This poor girl sadly is the catalyst for the explosion between Tommy and Oliver we’ve been waiting for.

The “evidence” that convinces Quentin Tommy is dealing Vertigo isn’t exactly irrefutable. The girl texted Tommy before she died, which Tommy easily explains because he receives texts from hundreds of people every night trying to get into the club. Her request for a “hook up” is not for Vertigo as Quentin believes.

The second piece of evidence raises the eyebrows, but Tommy has an explanation – albeit a shady one. There is ten thousand dollars missing from Verdant’s operating budget. Quentin believes Tommy used it to buy Vertigo, but he used it to bribe the zoning commissioner into skipping their inspection. Bribery isn’t great, but it’s a far lesser crime than dealing a deadly drug. L*urel could drive a truck through all that room for reasonable doubt.

This episode is another Merlance highpoint. L*urel believed in Tommy one hundred percent and he called her baby. Just leave me to my grave to die a happy woman.

After Tommy refuses Quentin entry into Verdant without a warrant, the detective comes back with one and it leads to a heart stopping moment. He wants to specifically look at the sub level not listed on the inspection’s floor plans. Ever the dutiful detective, Lance pulled the county records and knows it exists.

In my mind, I know this is not the way Oliver’s vigilante hideaway is getting discovered, but the panic in Oliver’s eyes always sends me to Stressville USA. Especially when he types the code!!! He’s shooting those panicked looks at Tommy who is as cool as a cucumber.

Quentin enters the The Hood's bunker and there’s no bunker! How Tommy moved all that equipment and replaced it with bottles of booze I will never understand. We simply have to believe in the magic of television y’all. Tommy is not going to rat Oliver out and he quite literally saves his ass.

Something Oliver should have known, but his lack of faith in Tommy is evident. It’s something Tommy cannot tolerate, not after everything that’s happened between them. He cannot believe Oliver thought he was dealing drugs out of the club.

Oliver doesn’t understand why Tommy wasn’t honest about the bribe. Oliver loses me right off the bat. Team Tommy all the way. Let’s list out the things you have not told Tommy, Oliver and we’ll see who has the longer list. YOU HID YOUR SECRET SUPERHERO LAIR IN THE CLUB YOU OPENED WITH TOMMY AND NEVER TOLD HIM ABOUT IT. A bribe is chump change in comparison to that lie.

Tommy: Let me ask you a question, pal. What have I done in the last six months since you’ve been home that would lead you to believe that I would sell drugs?

Oliver:  In the last six months? Nothing. But before I left you played hard. You played with bad people who were into bad stuff.

Tommy: So, did you Oliver. But I changed just like you did. Now you put arrows in people who do bad things.

Oliver gets owned in this argument, because Tommy is right. He refuses to see that Tommy has truly changed, but still expects Tommy to understand he has.

Source: @htbthomas

Oliver’s changes are a tougher pill to swallow. Tommy cannot understand how Oliver can kill people so easily and, quite frankly, wasn’t one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t end up with an arrow in him if he told Oliver about the bribe.

Is this insane for Tommy to be wondering? No, I don’t think so. We know Oliver doesn’t kill easily. We know he’s fighting a nightly war and there is a steep cost to this mission.

However, Oliver has not opened up to Tommy about what happened the five years he was away and he’s not Mr. Joe Here’s What I’m Thinking about being The Hood today. Killing is something Tommy cannot understand, but Oliver expects him to accept it with little to no explanation. Then he has the nerve not to trust Tommy? Seriously?

Source: @htbthomas

What Tommy thinks of him is a verbal gut punch to Oliver, but he deserved it. Unfortunately, this fight is not one Oliver can fix with a simple apology. Tommy has reached his limit and who can blame him.

Tommy: This club is important to me, but to you it’s just a front. You want me to keep your secret, help you be this thing you’ve become, but you refuse to see me for what I’ve become. I’ve got just a bit too much self-respect for that. I quit.

BOOM. YASSS MY SON!!! Way to stand up for yourself Thomas. I was so proud of him telling Oliver where to stick it.

Tommy: I’d prefer we skip the I-told-you-so’s, but the nightclub wasn’t really working out. I guess I need something more boring, stable… I guess what I’m saying is - I need a job.

TOMMY WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!! WORST. DECISION. EVER.

Tommy is back in the arms of the Big Bad Malcom Merlyn. For one brief shining moment, Tommy stood tall on the moral high ground, but not five seconds later comes plummeting back down to work with the sludge of the earth.

Source: @fogsblue

Tommy has every right to be pissed at Oliver, but his father is not the answer. That man is a hellscape. Whatever positive changes Tommy has made he is in real danger of a serious backslide. Now that Tommy is on the outs with Oliver, Merlyn can lead his son right to his very own villain origin story. And Tommy may lose sight of who he really is.

Oliver and Diggle (Felicity)

Oliver is firing on all cylinders tonight with his bros. After accusing his best friend of being a drug dealer, Oliver pitches a hissy fit over Diggle not being available the second he’s needed.

John is distracted because he’s consumed with avenging his brother’s death and killing Deadshot. While Oliver was trying to stop a hostage situation with a man high on Vertigo, Diggle was handing over information on Deadshot to a friend from ARGUS.

Hello Lyla! This is her very first Arrow appearance. These two had more chemistry in this single scene than any scene with Diggle and Carly.  I don’t know what obsession this show has about siblings dating the same people, but it’s enough already. I have to deal with this crap on The Vampire Diaries.

Oliver is furious Diggle ignored Felicity’s phone call. John hilariously tells Oliver not to get his panties in a twist. He’s completely fine. Oliver pretty much puts his hands on his hips and says, “You couldn’t have known that!” They sound like an old married couple.

John is a little put out Oliver is not more understanding. He thought Oliver would understand his vendetta against Deadshot, since Oliver is walking around with a whole damn list of names from his father! But that’s right. It’s a mission. Not a vendetta. Where’s Helena? We need her around if we’re debating this again.

Diggle chooses to be more specific and reminds Oliver The Count almost killed Thea, so his fervor over getting this drug and criminal off the streets may be a little personal too. Oliver says nothing because it’s true.

Diggle: I can’t move on with my life knowing that he’s still out there. I thought if anybody got that it’d be you.

Oliver doesn’t say anything here either because that’s true too. #TeamDiggle.

Felicity and Oliver discover there’s a new antipsychotic drug added to Vertigo, which makes Oliver believe The Count didn’t break out of the asylum like he thought. Maybe he faked his escape like he faked the crazy.

Close, but no. The Count really is three paper plates short of a picnic. It’s his DOCTOR and a very burly orderly who are manufacturing Vertigo. Honestly, I did not see that one coming.

It’s a Vertigo episode, so Oliver is getting drugged, but this time Diggle does show up to save him. He takes out the horse sized orderly, and Oliver kills the doctor with three arrows. It’s not often The Hood requires more than one to get the job done, but his vision was a bit wonky, so he used three just to be on the safe side.

Both the orderly and the doctor had to die because they knew Oliver Queen was The Hood. Those are the rules. The interesting choice Oliver made was not to kill the Count, who is babbling like a toddler on a telephone.

Arrow uses this moment to draw a very important distinction between Diggle and Tommy. After the boys return home, Oliver wants to know if Diggle is ok. He’s the killer in this family, not John.

Diggle: I’ve killed before Oliver. It’s just been a while.

There is no judgment from either man. It’s just quiet acknowledgement that killing is necessary sometimes. But that doesn’t make it easy.

Tommy’s anger towards Oliver makes him blind to his humanity. Oliver is not a psychopath. He does not kill for the enjoyment of it. He is doing what is necessary to save the city from some really bad people. Tommy takes it too far believing killing is easy for Oliver. He’s furious Oliver doesn’t see the change in him, but the truth is Tommy doesn’t see the change in Oliver either.

This is something Oliver never had to explain to Diggle. John does see the change in Oliver. He stood by quietly as Oliver grappled with killing The Count. Diggle didn’t make any speeches. He simply left space for Oliver to make that decision on his own.

If Oliver chose to kill The Count, John would’ve understood that choice as well. He wouldn’t call him a murderer. John encourages Oliver to make different choices, but he also meets Oliver where he’s at. Maybe Oliver would open up more to Tommy if he offered less judgment like John Diggle.

Diggle is curious why Oliver didn’t kill The Count and he tells him the truth. There just didn’t seem to be a point with the Count chained up and lost to madness.

There are two things Oliver is not saying. He was convinced earlier in the episode that he made the wrong decision allowing The Count to live and was just a teensy bit mad.

Source: @lucyyh

But he couldn’t fire the arrow in the end.

Felicity’s gentle reassurance that locking The Count up was the right call hit her intended mark. If killing is truly a last resort, then Oliver has to utilize other methods of dealing with criminals. Oliver has shown more restraint ever since Felicity joined the team. He hasn’t stopped killing, but he does listen to her.

Source: @lucyyh

The second is Oliver believes killing an unarmed man in that condition would be wrong – like stabbing someone in the back. He’s not a threat in that condition and The Count truly didn’t have anything to do with the Vertigo being unleashed on the city again. There are rules to war and those rules keep his humanity intact.

John Diggle has Oliver’s back, so in return Oliver will have his and is making Deadshot a top priority. Couldn’t we have just done that from the beginning and skipped their couples fight?

Neither Oliver or Tommy can see the other for who they truly are. Yet, people Oliver met barely a year ago have more faith in him than his childhood best friend and vice versus. Sometimes history stops us from allowing change in the people we love.

You can see why Oliver is keeping his identity secret from his family and L*urel. It's not just about their safety. He's afraid they will all react like Tommy.

But there's no baggage with Diggle and Felicity, so Oliver has a clean slate. They can see Oliver for who he truly is. It's becoming clearer with every episode that Diggle (and Felicity) are Oliver's best friends.

Shado

Like Felicity, Shado is a breath of fresh air to Team Island. She is beautiful, kicks ass and knows a thing or two about a bow. Oliver has been helpless majority of the time. I am not expecting him to become a super secret agent man like Slade Wilson in a couple of months, but he does need to perform a function on this team other than dead weight.

Shado takes it upon herself to teach Oliver how to shoot, but she does not start with the bow. She begins by telling Oliver to slap a bowl of water. Like the idiotic American he is, Oliver is annoyed, but doesn’t really have anything better to do, so he slaps the water in the bowl. By episode end, his hand is strong enough to pull the bow string. This woman accomplished more in a day than Slade Wilson did in months.

She also provides some much-needed Yao Fei backstory. He was general in the People’s Liberation Army (the Chinese communist army).  The military committed a massacre and chose Yao Fei to take the blame. They sent him to Lian Yu for the rest of his life. Fryers knows this and wants Yao Fei to take the fall for whatever he’s going to do.

And we thought The Count was nuts.

Source: thearrowgifs

As for Shado, she spent years searching for her father. A man told her he knew where Yao Fei was, but kidnapped her instead and brought her to Lian Yu as leverage over Yao Fei. It took nineteen episodes to get that information. Yeesh.

Shado: I’m worried, this island, what he must have had to do to survive. That it changed him.

If this sounds ominous it’s supposed to. Not all change is good. That’s true for all of us - even Oliver Queen.

Stray Thoughts

“You could’ve just said he was nuts.” I like sassy Quentin.

Maybe it’s my whole Buffy history, but Shado and Slade sparring felt very sexually charged.

Budget cuts and the CAMERAS are the first to go in jail?!!!

This will always be one of Diggle's best lines.

TOMMY HAS FELICITY’S PHONE NUMBER. Oh, the fics this detail launched.

What did we ever do in the bunker without this perfect gumdrop of a human being?

“What’s happening now isn’t your fault.” Felicity should’ve tattooed this on Oliver’s arm. It would save a whole lot of time.

“My mom does yoga.” Ollie is just so… Ollie.

1141 is the passcode to the bunker. The Green Arrow was created November 1941 (11/41).

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x19!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me

[1poda]

She Hates Pirates! Pt.8

Alba stood before a rocky mountain and held the map before her sight to double check "This is it... there's gotta be a hidden entrance somewhere" The Explorer held a hand to her chin in thought, seemingly not noticing the band of men who surrounded her, holding their weapons and grinning for a fight they picked the perfect moment for… or so they thought. 

"I suppose.... I'll have to beat it outta one of you guys" she turned to the wide-eyed ambush with a blank stare.

The Capitan and his teammates forced their way through tangled bushes and mean vines, Zorro bubbled and hissed before unsheathing one of his unreplaceable blades to attack the grabby vegetation around them "How much longer do we have to stay in this hell jungle?" he groaned, earning a side glance from the straw hat chef who stood behind him. 

"We'll stay as long as it takes, I'm not leaving without Alba by my side" Sanji gazed into the sunset dramatically with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. The pair to busy grumbling at each other to notice Luffy as he forced a boulder out of the way with an angry strength, with his lips upturned childishly the pirate let out a huff. 

Kicking a small pebble the monkey boy continued to shuffle his way through the thick forest "Dumb Alba, leaving me behind... didn't even wait for breakfast..." he kicked another stone "Dummy...!" 

At his grumbling the bright-haired pair glanced at each other as they followed his footsteps wordlessly, all appearing fine until the island shook gravely, the trees almost coming uprooted from the force while crumbling rocks fell from a nearby mountain. The shaking rocking of the island grew more violent as smoke began to build from the mouth of the elevated peek, shooting out in a group of ash before the breeze above swirled its dancing fumes in a threatening spin around the exit. 

"No way!" Luffy giggled at the sudden reveal as his men yelled at the development "First Marines and now this?! Just what the hell is wrong with this island!" the swordsman flailed around as the trembles eased, the back of his red striped shirt was grabbed by Sanji.

The chef kicked himself to safety with an angry sword fighter in hand while their giggling Capitan swung from branch to branch, seemingly filled with a new sense of life since the white-haired 'Explorer' left him behind. 

"You really think a girl like that is making this much racket?"

Sanji let out a grunt as he dodged a particularly large and dangerous boulder, taking a moment to think about the kind of people Luffy seemed to keep around him, beautiful girls or not, everyone touched by the friendship of their Capitan would be strange one way or another. 

"Guess we can't rule out anything at this point" Sanji mumbled as he followed the bouncing rubber man. 

Alba huffed and puffed inside the cave she had bullied her way through, the entrance crumbling at her epic arrival while piles of men littered the hideout, her fists trembled at the sight of four larger fighters standing before her. Each with their own nasty grin and weapon. Large guns filled the back of one big body while his friend- who allowed his large sword to hang from the left side of his hip- leaned on a shoulder, careful not to add pressure on his countless grenades. 

The third fighter stood on the other side of the Marine he followed, a large cement hammer was held in one hand easily while the other gripped a huge shield that could easily cover the prepared men, awaiting any sign of danger or violence. 

The largest of them all laughed at the state of his men, all beaten and bruised yet still groaning from the pain. His fat lips circled into a nearly toothless grin as he took a handful of stomps forward "Nice job you did here, lill fish" 

Alba's eyes widened at the nickname and a glow quickly snapped through the darkness of the cave. Her skin grew a pale light which expelled every shadow from the cave, as the furious Alba grew brighter the largest of the group chuckled and pointed a finger to the roof of their hideaway. 

"I wouldn't go and do that now- after all... one more little explosion from you and this whole island sinks" the marine chuckled as her wide stare trickled to the space behind the evil doers which had begun filling with steam and building heat. Following their seductive wisps of smoke her light dimmed as the Explorer realized why this was their chosen battleground. 

Her knuckles popped at the strength of her gripping fists as her angry stare made one of the lackeys glance at his friend, wondering if fighting her in a place like this was really a good idea. What if she, like their Captain, had some sort of unfinished death wish.