#so... you get to choose what your character looks like. and then you get to see them in lots of cutscenes.

[madebycloud]

What Would I Do Without You?

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you've been through hell and back with jinx, and despite it all, you couldn't leave her behind. (requested by anons) warnings/themes: HEAVY ANGST, character death (reader), blood, hurt no comfort harhar words: 2.6k notes: first time writing something so angsty like this haha i hope this is angsty enough... (this takes place when jinx rescued isha in prison) a repost cz tumblr is shti!

You could run.

You could run right now, escape with Isha and Sevika.

But-

How can you? You can't just leave Jinx alone—not now. Not after everything. Not when she's facing off against this monster.

Why didn't you listen?

Why did you have to play the hero?

Why, why, did you choose to stay?

“What are you doing?!” Jinx screams.

And that's the last thing you hear before you face off against the beast, watching as it launches itself at you-

At the last minute, you duck.

Too slow.

Too slow and too late.

In one quick motion, the beast tears into you.

It claws straight at your stomach-

You can feel the air leave your lungs.

You hit the ground.

Blood blossoms on your shirt.

But… it worked. The beast backed away. It fled.

You managed to scare it. You've saved Jinx. You've protected her. This is a victory.

Yet-

Why do you hurt so badly?

You look down, and your stomach is-

Oh.

Oh no...

Everything is red.

There's blood. There's blood everywhere.

Your blood.

You hear the sound of running footsteps. “NO!”

It's her voice.

“PLEASE, NO!” Jinx kneels next to you.

Your mind goes hazy, clouded by pain.

Arms grab you and move you into a sitting position. She's holding you. “Please, please,” she's sobbing as she puts pressure on the wound. “You're going to be okay. You're going to be fine.” You know that's a lie.

You cough. Red bubbles on your lips and slides down your chin.

“No, no, you're okay,” she repeats. “Don't go,” she sobs. “Don't you dare go. Look at me. Look at me.” She grabs your face, trying to angle your face up towards hers. “Please, stay with me. Stay. With. Me."

You feel so tired. You want to sleep.

But she needs you to stay here.

“Sevika!” she screams into nothingness, holding you tighter. “I need help, please come over here!”

The pain is still there, but the adrenaline is starting to wear off.

Your body hurts. Your eyelids flutter, but you force yourself to focus on her face.

She's crying. Her whole body is shaking. She's a wreck, but even like this, she's the most breathtaking you've ever seen.

You think that if you were to die, you'd want the last thing you ever saw to be her face.

She's still holding your head as she screams for help. “SOMEBODY—SOMEBODY PLEASE GET OVER HERE!”

Your body is getting cold. You can hear your pulse, thump, thump, thump, thump, in your head.

There's an arm around your back, supporting you as you slowly slump against her. Your head rests on her chest, and you can hear her heart beating loudly.

“I'm scared,” she whimpers. “I'm so scared.”

She is scared.

She's scared that she'll never taste your lips, never feel your breath on her neck.

She's scared that she'll never again feel your fingers on her hip, or your hands on her waist, or your face in her hair.

She's scared that you'll never hold her close, or tease her, or say her name in a way that makes her heart flutter.

She's scared that this is her last moment with you.

“Jinx.” You call her name one last time, her heart breaking when she hears how labored your voice is. It sounds so unlike you.

“No, no, don't say my name like that,” she begs. “Don't say my name like that—it can't be. Please, it can't be.”

She's crying, her tears fall onto your face. You taste saline and sweat and sadness.

You look into her eyes. Those beautiful eyes, full of tears. The eyes that made your heart pound faster and faster whenever you met her gaze.

You think of her face, her laugh, her smile. You think of her hand in yours and the way she looks in the light of dawn. You try to remember her smell, her voice, her skin.

You know this is probably the last time you'll ever be this close to her.

You love her so much.

You try to reach up and touch her face, to wipe away her tears. Your muscles protest and scream at the movement. But you try, anyway.

She catches your hand, presses it against her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft, and you memorize the feeling of it. You hope you'll always remember how her face feels.

“I love you,” you manage to say.

Her lower lip trembles. “What?”

“I love you.”

“No, no, no… don't say that,” she cries. “Don't say that. You're staying right here. You aren't going anywhere.”

She can't let you go. Not like this. Not after she just got you. Not after being so close to a life together. Not after finding someone who loves her so much.

You'd give anything for a few more minutes together. An hour, a day, a week.

You want to stay with her. 

You want to stay and be with her and see her grow into the woman you know she'll be. You want to watch those eyes light up at a joke and see her smile. You want to sit by her side as she laughs and talk to her for hours. You want to hold her, for as long as you can, and tell her you love her.

You try to muster a smile. “It's okay,” you whisper. “I'm here, right now. I'm… I'm not going anywhere,” you lie.

She nods. She tries to wipe away her tears.

“Please don't cry. You're too pretty to cry.”

She scoffs as she smiles through her tears. You love her like this. Even just hearing her scoff, even if she's upset, makes you happy. 

“I'm a mess,” she says. “I'm a crying, snotty mess.”

“I'll love you anyway.” 

“Don't say that,” she pleads. “Don't say that, please.”

“Why?”

Her voice breaks. “If you keep saying things like that, I'm not going to be strong enough to let you go.”

“You won't have to.”

“Don't say that either,” she whispers. “Don't make promises you can't keep.”

“I'm right here.” You try to speak louder. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Stop. You don't know that.”

And you don't. But you want to believe it. Oh, god, if anything, you want to be right.

You reach up again, brush the hair from her face. You try to be gentle so she won't notice how much it's hurting you to move at all.

“Please tell me a story,” you breathe. “Please. I want to hear your voice.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything… anything at all.”

She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and bites her lip in thought. “Okay,” she says after a moment. “I… I have an idea. Do you want to hear it? It's a story, if—if that's okay.”

You slowly nod and take her hand. She's shaking so hard. You run your thumb over her knuckles. 

“When I was a little girl,” she starts quietly. “I used to watch the stars. They were so pretty… I'd stay up past my bedtime, just sitting by the window and trying to find the brightest ones in the sky. I always looked for that one star, and I knew I could find it no matter what time it was. I know it's silly…”

It doesn't feel silly to you. You like that she's talking, and even if it's a dumb story, just hearing her is making you feel better. 

“I—I wanted to know if there were worlds up there. I didn't know about planets and stars yet, so I'd sit there in my room and imagine all these worlds, full of people who had entire lives I couldn't dream of.”

Closing your eyes, you focus on the sound of her voice.

This is the last time you'll get to hear her talk. The last time you'll get to see her. The last time you'll get to hear her voice. The last time you'll feel her touch. The last time you'll get to be with her.

You smile.

Despite the pain.

You smile.

Even as things start to grow dark.

You smile.

Because even though it won't be for much longer, you know she's still out there.

And she will find her way through this, because you know she can.

Even without you.

“Whenever I couldn't fall asleep,” she continues, “I'd look at the stars and imagine what it was like to live there and what people there were like. I liked to think people on the other worlds would look up and see the same stars and wonder the same things, just like I was. I wanted to see those stars and know that, even if I was by myself in my room, I wasn't really alone.”

“I wanted to know what it was like to explore those other worlds,” Jinx murmurs. “What it was like to be one of those people, with real adventures and fun and families. No rules, just… freedom.”

She keeps talking and talking and talking and-

She notices your hands. Cold. No.

Her hands are shaking, but she reaches out. She reaches for your cheek, caressing it as her fingers tremble. Her hand trembles, and she can't focus on anything but the fact that she's touching your skin, that she's touching you-

She feels the blood on her fingers, trickling down her hand, but she pushes that out of her mind. She doesn't care. You're the most important thing. Always.

She watches your chest, your stomach, waiting for a twitch, a breath, anything to show her that you're still here. That her worst nightmare isn't happening right in front of her eyes.

But there's nothing.

She presses her ear to your chest. Come on, she thinks desperately. Come on, please.

Silence.

Her fingers fumble to find your pulse on your neck.

Nothing.

Her world collapses around her.

No.

No, not like this.

Tears blur her vision. She blinks them away, trying to fight off the tears so she can see you. Can't see you. She doesn't want to. She can't. Not now.

One minute.

Just one more minute, that's all.

Just a few more seconds.

Please.

There's a pressure growing in her chest. It's so tight, it's hard to breathe. She can't breathe. Why can't she breathe? She needs to breathe. She needs to breathe, she needs to breathe, she can't stop crying, she can't stop because you're-

No, no, no. Don't think it, don't think it, don't think it-

“Hey, c'mon,” she says. “This isn't funny. Wake up.” She grabs your shoulders, shaking you. “Wake. Up.”

You're not moving. You're not talking. You're just-

Cold, limp. Nothing's different.

Please, not like this.

“You can't do this.”

Please.

“You have to wake up.”

Please!

“You have to wake up.”

Please, please, please, please.

“You don't just—you don't just get to do this to me!”

This isn't real.

It can't be real.

She closes her eyes.

She reopens them, looking down at your body.

It's real.

“Please wake up! I need—I need you, please.”

She's begging you, to the wind, to the moon, to the stars, that maybe if she pleaded hard enough, hard enough to the whole universe itself, maybe fate would be on her side just this once.

But fate was never on her side.

Life did this to her, it took everything she had and loved and was precious, it took away the only person she knew loved her. Life wasn't good, it was cruel and cold and harsh, and it was taking away everything she had. It was taking everything.

She hates this.

She hates what life was doing to her, what it had done to her. She wants to scream and pull her hair out. She wants to burn the world down and scream at the top of her lungs, at life, at the whole universe, begging it to bring you back.

Just. Bring. You. Back.

How many times had she watched you laugh, watched you smile, and done something as simple as breathing? How often had she watched you speak and talk and joke about something?

How many times had she told you she loved you, how many hours had you lost track of just the two of you talking? How many good moments had the two of you had that she would never be able to experience again?

It had been taken away from her.

You'd never laugh or smile again, that beautiful voice of yours is only a memory now.

And it hurts.

It hurts so much to think about how she's never going to hear your voice. How she's never going to see you walking around the hideout again. She'll never be able to see the smile you give every time she says something stupid.

She'll never be able to hold your hands, to kiss you, to lay her head on your lap. She'll never get to hear you laugh or feel your hands on hers.

She loved you. Every piece of you.

Every smile.

Every laugh.

Every word.

Every tear.

Every kiss.

Every touch.

Every moment.

Every single time.

Every single time you were there for her.

Every single time that you'd given her the best hugs when she'd cried on your shoulder.

Every single time the two of you slept on a small couch just so she could feel safe.

Every single time you'd hold her in your arms.

Every single time you talked her out of a bad mood.

She'll never get to have those again.

She'll never get to experience all of those wonderful, beautiful things again.

And she wants to do it one more time.

One more time to hear you laugh. One more time to feel you put your arms around her. One more time, she wants you to tell her everything is going to be alright. To take her face in your hands, look into her eyes, and say that.

Just one more.

Because what would she do without you?

How would she go on living without you when you were the person who had kept her going for months?

For the longest time, you were the one person that she trusted. The one person that she felt safe with.

Without that, what was the point?

She can still remember the first time she met you. She can still remember the butterflies in her stomach each time she saw you, the way her heart raced whenever you spoke to her. She can still remember that first, awkward kiss, how you held her close in your arms afterwards and didn't let go.

She can still remember the first time the two of you had said, “I love you.”

It was so hard for her to say it because she hadn't felt loved in a long time. And she's nervous, she's scared. But you spoke first, you pulled her close.

It was a whisper, a quiet “I love you” spoken in her ear. And then she started crying, she turned and buried herself in your arms.

I love you.

She'll never hear those words again.

But she can still remember what you sounded like.

That had to be enough.

That has to be enough.

Those three words have to be enough for her.

They have to be.

But they weren't.

Because now, you are gone.

“I love you too,” she murmurs. “So much-”

But there's no one to hear it.

She closes her eyes again, letting the tears roll down her face.

This is what love is, she thinks.

This is what loving someone does to you.

She'd never hated something so much in her life.

“How am I supposed to live without you?”

notes: forgot that singed is literally right there… (might write pt2)

[xoxo-sarah]

If the Roles Were Reversed

My Wife part 2

Part 1

↝a/n: I have been given so much love for the first part and I can't express how grateful I am for it. It fills me with so much joy when people express how much they like my work. I have been asked to make a part two and who am I to say no?

↝pairing: season 1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: season 1 episodes 3 & 4, angst, death, arguing, gore, zombies, typical twd stuff, not proofread, Ed

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 1.25.25

Daryl Dixon masterlist

“You can't go, Daryl. Listen to me-” You threw your hands around, watching Daryl pace in front of you. The peaceful expression he once had, when he had reunited with you, was wiped clean off of his face.

He was told the news about Merle and instantly became furious. No matter how much you tried to calm him, it was no use.

His brother was out there. Daryl argued that Merle would be out there looking for him if the roles were reversed.

“Listen, there are too many.” You stepped closer, trying to make him understand, “After the racket everyone made trying to leave, I bet there’s even more now.”

“They left my brother on a roof.” You could tell he was trying his hardest not to yell at you. He was never one to take his anger out on the one person he loves more than anything in the world. He was always gentle with you, just like you deserved.

Sighing, you didn’t know how to counter that. As much as everyone who was waiting on the other side of the R.V wanted you to talk some sense into your husband, Daryl had a point. After all, he had gone out to find you, even against Merle telling him not to.

If it had been Daryl who they had left behind, you would’ve already been in the city, searching. Even if you had to go by yourself, it wouldn’t matter.

None of that changed the fact that it’s dangerous. You couldn’t let him go.

You just got him back.

“He was out of control, you know how he can get. I don’t think they had a choice.” You whispered, trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

Daryl’s nostrils flared, as he tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to lash out on you, he never did. But he was about to break. “Merle is a prick, but he’s my brother.”

With that, Daryl walked around the R.V, shoulder checking Shane, who looked disappointed that you hadn’t helped de-escalate the situation. Daryl was stubborn, there wasn’t much you could do.

Carol quickly went back to what she was doing, not wanting to seem like she was being nosey. Which didn’t do much considering everyone in the camp was waiting. After the brawl that had happened when Daryl was told about Merle, everyone was interested in how this whole situation would turn out. Everyone else tried hiding their obvious interest as Daryl came into view. You walked behind him, head hung low, defeated and slightly scared.

Daryl walked toward the box truck, ready to leave.

Rick walked over to you, “So?”

“You shook your head, “He’s not gonna change his mind. I tried.”

He nodded in understanding. Lori looked on at the interaction. She had been the one to offer Rick showing Daryl the way to Merle. She was adamant on it, but at the same time mad at him for leaving. It was almost like she was testing him, seeing if he would actually leave his family to be the heroic cop from before. She wanted him to choose her and Carl over ‘the right thing to do’.

Rick cleared his throat, “It’ll be alright,” he nodded fiddling with the gun holster before turning back around.

Glenn backed the box truck closer, Daryl impatiently standing in the back. You walked toward him when the vehicle stopped. He squinted down at you against the beating sun, watching as you climbed into the truck.

“What’re you doin’?”

“Going with you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Four’s enough.”

You didn’t care if Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were also going. You had stayed in the city for a while, you knew your way around. Plus, you would be going for a different reason than the rest. They were going for Merle, you were going for Daryl.

“Stay here.” His voice was softer now. Truthfully, he didn’t want anything to happen to you. You were safer at the camp, with people you had grown comfortable with in such a short amount of time. “They’ll need somebody who knows how to hunt for somethin’ to eat. Fish is gonna get old fast.” You cracked a smile at his slight humor at the situation. Still, you didn’t want him to leave.

Daryl stepped closer, bringing you into his arms, his head resting on yours. The stench of sweat, dirt, and god knows what else didn’t bother either of you. He didn’t care that you didn’t smell like the sweet shampoo he loved, and you didn’t care that he didn’t smell like the body wash that you had bought him the last time you had gone to the store, or the cologne you loved.

“Keep an eye on everybody,” He kissed your forehead, mumbling against the skin, as he stayed close. “Don’t let anyone mess with ya.”

“When do I ever?” A smile threatened to make an appearance. But it wasn’t the time. He was worried about his brother.

Rick walked by, casting a glance back at the two of you, nodding. Inhaling deeply, you moved away from Daryl, jumping down from the truck. He sent you one more look before pulling the roll-up doors down. You stood there, listening to the box truck’s engine start. You continued to stand there even after the truck faded into the distance.

-

Dale watched as you fiddled with the rag he had given you to wipe the sweat off your brow. You kept fidgeting; ever since Daryl left.

He was quick to offer you to help him keep watch, but you were elsewhere ever since you climbed onto the roof of the R.V. You were trying, Dale could tell. But he saw the gears turning in your head, greased with the terrible thought of what could happen to your husband. The thought of Daryl always overpowered any other thought.

His greyed eyebrows raised as you shot up from your seat.

“Think i’m gonna go help with the laundry. To keep myself busy.” Dale didn’t say anything, only moving out of your way so you could climb down.

Making your way to the quarry, you focused on the voices in the distance and the sharp rocks under your feet. You walked past Ed, who sat comfortably in the back of the car, smoking while keeping an eye on Carol. He glanced up, taking a drag of his cigarette. Ignoring him, you carefully navigate your way down the rocks toward where Carol, Jacqui, Andrea, and Amy sat.

“Can somebody explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?” Jacqui grumbled, watching Shane and Carl fail at catching frogs, their laughter echoing.

“The world ended. Didn’t you get the memo?” Amy wrung the water out of a shirt, flicking hair out of her face. Carol glanced back, looking at Ed. She saw you walking toward them. Sending you a small smile. “It’s just the way it is.” Her eyes fell back to her husband.

“Care for some help?” You squinted at the group through the sun beating down into your eyes. Jacqui motioned to a turned over bucket, “Please.” Giving a tightlipped smile, you sat down ,grabbing a scrub brush and a piece of clothing.

The way the women conversated put you at ease. It was familiar. People at the office that you worked at, were exactly like them.

“I do miss my Maytag.” Carol said, scrubbing clothes against the old washboard.

“I miss my Benz, my Sat Nav.” Andrea added.

“I miss my coffeemaker with that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey.” Jacqui smiled.

Amy pouted, “My computer…and texting.”

“I miss my t.v. And wine. Especially after a long day.” You groaned, remembering the days after work; where you would come home, take your shoes off and get wine and a movie ready. Daryl would come home a little later and join you.

Your reminiscing was cut short by Andrea, “I miss my vibrator.”

Stopping your scrubbing, you looked up at her, a surprised chuckle leaving your lips.

“Ohhhhh.” “Oh my God!”

Carol glanced back at Ed, “Me too.”

You laughed harder, along with the others.

“What’s so funny?”

Just like that, the atmosphere was ruined. Ed walked down, instantly taking the joy out of the air.

“Just swapping war stories, Ed,” Andrea looked back at him, before looking over at Carol. “Yeah.”

Ed walked closer. From your spot beside Carol, you could feel Ed looming behind. Carol instinctively folded in on herself, head sinking into her shoulders.

“Problem, Ed?” Andrea glared at him.

“None that concerns you,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “and you ought to focus on your work. This ain’t no comedy club.”

Andrea huffed, plopping the brush in the tin bucket.

“Just trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” You looked at him, face blank. He stared down at you. You waited for him to say something else. Surprisingly he only blew the smoke out, throwing the butt away. He stepped back, lighting another. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to the laundry. Andrea stood, walking toward him.

“Ed, tell you what, you don’t like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here,” She threw the soaking wet piece of clothing in her hands at him.

He threw it back. Andrea gasped. “Ain't my job, missy.”

Amy stood, wanting to de-escalate the situation. She touched Andrea’s arm, “Andrea, don’t.”

“What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass, smoking cigarettes?”

You glanced at Carol, who sat quietly, still working.

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what,” He motioned for Carol, who was out of her seat in a second. You grabbed her arm before she could fully stand up. You could see the fear and timidness in her eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He continued to beckon her.

You stood, keeping a soft but comforting grip on her arm.

“I don’t think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed.” Andrea continued.

Carol glanced up from the ground for a split second, meeting your eyes. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble. She would be dragged back to camp by Ed if that meant nothing else would happen. She knew Ed, what he was capable of.

“And I say that’s none of your business.” Ed beckoned for Carol again. “Come on, now. You heard me.”

Carol moved away from your grip. Andrea turned to her, “Carol,”

“Andrea, please. It doesn’t matter.”

Ed glared at the interaction, “Hey, don’t think I won't knock you on your ass, just ‘cause you some college-educated cooze, alright?”

Andrea scoffed at the audacity of the male in front of her. You stepped forward, grabbing Carol by the shoulder. You weren’t about to let her go with him when he was clearly becoming hostile.

“Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.”

You softly said her name, ignoring her husband’s glare, and stepped closer to her in a protective manner.

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?” Jacqui piped up for the first time since Ed walked over. “Yeah, we’ve seen them.”

Ed chuckled, “Stay out of this,” his harsh gaze pierced through his wife. “Now come on! You know what, this is none of y’all’s business. You don’t want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talkin’. Come on!”

You cringed at his words, moving in front of Carol as he walked closer. He ignored you, reaching around to grab at her arm with a harsh grip. The embarrassment was clear on her face. He pulled, knocking your balance slightly off as he yanked Carol from behind you. Her shoulder crashed into yours, feet moving in a jumble over your own.

“No. No, Carol. You don’t have-”

Carol muttered something under her breath, ignoring Andrea.

Ed swung around, spitting in Carol’s face. “You don’t tell me what! I tell you what!” His grip tightened, jagged nails biting into the soft skin of her upper arm. She whimpered quietly at the force. He raised his hand, striking her against the face. Gasping, you caught her as she fell back, grabbing her reddening cheek.

Everyone clamoured; Andrea hitting and pushing him away, you cursing him as Carol started crying. She fell further into you, as you held her protectively, hauling her away from him.

Ed was pulled back and thrown to the ground, before being dragged by the back of his shirt. Shane threw him further into to the ground, before throwing a punch, and another straight after.

“No!” Carol cried, trying to get away. Shane kept throwing punches, more skin breaking every time his fist hit Ed’s face. Carol covered her mouth, body swaying.

“Shane, stop!” “Enough! Enough!” “Just stop!”

Shane stopped, pointing a finger in Ed’s swollen and bloodied face. “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?” He grabbed Ed’s face, squishing it in the process. “Do you hear me?!”

Ed slurred, “Yes.”

Shane let go, pointing again. “I’ll beat you to death, Ed.” With one final punch, he stood, kicking the man on the ground and walking away.

“God!” Carol cried, using strength you had never seen from her before, to break from you, running over to her husband.

-

The tension in the camp was suffocating after that. There was a tiny victory after Andrea and Amy went fishing and brought back dinner, but it was short lived. Jim had been found digging graves, which disturbed a lot of you.

Night fell and everyone began eating the fish-fry.

You smiled at Sophia as she passed the pan of fish. She was well-mannered; all thanks to Carol. She was a shy girl, but became a seemingly different kid when she was around other kids. She found friends in a world that would probably take them away before you could blink. She, along with the other kids, didn’t understand what was out there, all of the bad. They held an innocence that would be demolished in front of your eyes.

“I gotta ask you, man. It’s been driving me crazy.” One of the men that you met in the city, Morales, spoke up, directing it at Dale.

“What?”

“That watch,” he pointed at the watch on Dale’s wrist.

Dale smiled, “What’s wrong with my watch?”

Morales continued, “I see you everyday, the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass.”

“I’ve wondered this myself.” Jacqui smiled.

Dale threw his hands up playfully, “I’m missing the point.”

You looked between him and his watch, the fire casting a warm gleam over it, brightening the brown leather.

“Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while.” Jacqui shrugged her shoulders.

“But there’s you, everyday, winding that stupid watch.” Morales raised his eyebrows at the old man.

“Time- it’s important to keep track, isn’t it? The days, at least. Don’t you think, Andrea? Back me up here.”

They shared a knowing look, their faces glowing in the fire from where you sat. She sent him a seemingly warning glare, but his smile didn’t falter.

“I like- I like what, um, a father said to son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said “I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire, which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father’s before me; I give it to you not that you may remember time, not that you may forget it for a moment now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.””

Huh,” Morales nodded at the answer, not really expecting it.

Everyone sat in silence around the fire, before Amy broke it, “You are so weird.”

Laughter echoed as you took a swig of beer. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t pure water so it would do.

“It’s not me. It’s Faulkner, William Faulkner.”

Amy rolled her eyes at Dale.

The older man chuckled, “Maybe my bad paraphrasing.”

Amy stood, walking away from the fire. Andrea stopped her, “Where are you going?”

“I have to pee.” The younger sister raised her brows, “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” She quickly walked off, toward the R.V.

Dale turned to you, “What about you? You fiddle with that on your wrist.” You looked down at the bulky thing around your wrist. “Was my dog’s collar.” Dale’s smile turned sad. While rushing out of your house, you had grabbed the collar from the leash you would walk her around the block with. Her name was embroidered; a gift from Daryl when he first surprised you with a puppy.

You tightened it into a bracelet, holding her memory close. Truthfully, you had forgotten about it being on your wrist. You didn’t notice how much you fidgeted with it. Dale did, when you were on watch with him.

You didn’t think about the dog for long.

The R.V door opened, and Amy stepped out. “We’re out of toilet paper?” She yelled. Before she could get an answer, a hand grabbed her forearm from behind the other side of the door. She stood in shock as a walker moved closer to her. She screamed, feeling the walker bite down.

Your head instantly snapped up, eyes growing wide at the sight. More walkers came from each direction, limping forward. Everyone screamed, jumping up. Parents grabbed their kids, others grabbed weapons. Gunshots echoed, making your ears ring. You were quick to instinctively reach for your gun. Unfortunately, that gun was still in Glenn’s bag with no bullets.

A hand on your shoulder had you swiveling around, pushing the walker that simply snarled at you. Pushing with all your strength, you didn’t wait for it to hit the ground before you were running.

Another walker stumbled toward you from behind, dirty nails digging into your skin. This walker was closer, a stench wafting into your nose before you could push it away. You tried, but from the angle in which the walker had grabbed you, you could only push its head away, fingers avoiding its snipping teeth.

You screamed, still hearing Shane unload his gun in the distance.

Andrea wailed, watching another walker bite a gash out of Amy’s shoulder, right where her neck meets it.

The grip tightened on you, making you hiss. Their nails were long and had the bite to prove it. One final hit had the walker staggering back, grip falling off. You turned, running toward the R.V, where Shane, Lori, Carol, Morales, and their families were. More gunfire rang out.

Making it to the vehicle, you turned back, seeing Daryl and the others coming out of the woods. He was the first out, head snapping in ebery direction. The other were soon to follow.

Daryl spotted you. He looked around, making sure no more walkers were around, before running toward you. Your bodies collided, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He pulled back, “You hurt?”

“No, i don’t think- I don’t know.”

You were in shock, your jumbled words and wide eyes proving it. You couldn’t think. You rubbed where you were scratched.

In your time since the world ended, you had hidden in the top floor of a building. If you were ever met with danger, you always had a gun or knife handy.

Tonight, you were completely unprepared.

In the dark, you couldn't tell if the skin of your arm was broken. Clinging back to Daryl, you turned your head to where Andrea laid beside Amy. Blood pooled around them. Amy’s body went limp, sending Andrea to sobs. Closing your eyes tightly, you turned back to Daryl, pushing your face into his neck. He held you close, hiding the shake in his hands.

He had heard your scream.

That’s what had him running through the woods with only you in mind, leaving the other behind.

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

Tags from the last chapter who wanted part 2: @notmirnda @vomiting-blood @i93jjk @multifandomfan @gaudesstuff @cymbalta-slut

[avelera]

My own interpretation of the Hexcore is that, while it was manipulating Viktor, it also never controlled him directly. It brought out the darkest parts of his nature, all the unpleasant thoughts and the parts of himself even he was unaware of, and pushed him to embrace them-but it never forced him to do anything. (Theoretically, he could have stopped wha he was doing at any time-but consciously or not, he didn't want to stop.)

True, he probably wouldn't have done those things without the Hexcore (I say "probably" because League Viktor exists), but he still chose to do those things.

(I'm just a huge fan of the "Not quite Mind Control" trope, and I think this approach adds some interesting angles to Viktor's character.)

Yeah I think "not quite mind control" is closer to what we see on screen. That's why I enjoyed the comparisons to the One Ring that came later in the discussion.

In my opinion, the Hexcore like the One Ring in "Lord of the Rings", or the gonne in Pratchett's "Men at Arms", represents power. Boromir on his own would probably not have tried to steal the Ring from Frodo, but he was still the one who chose to do so. Where is the line between manipulation and influence and outright control? If you wouldn't have made those choices without their influence, but you still made the choice, how much of it is you?

This actually taps in a bit to a meta that I've been circling that the Hexcore/Sky as the face of the Hexcore is to Viktor in S2 what Mel was to Jayce in S1. Jayce chose to take part in corruption in order to protect himself and what he cared about, but he still chose to do it. Insofar as people blame Jayce for getting dragged away from the lab and his shared dream with Viktor in favor of Mel and politics, he did make all those decisions. But, he was also clearly outplayed and manipulated by a master of the craft. (As I've said elsewhere, leaving someone absolute freedom to choose the only option left to them is not actually freedom.)

I think the influence of the Hexcore is better understood as paralleling Mel's influence on Jayce, especially when you consider the face it used. Twice now we've seen mirroring instances of the "other woman" in Jayce or Viktor's life drawing them away from the partnership, from the lab, making them into public figures, making them adored by the masses, offering them power to make their dream a reality, and in both instances they choose to do so. In both instances, they might not have fully had a choice not to, either because of personal danger ("Your House is in trouble, Jayce.") or because of actual physical manipulation (the Hexcore is part of Viktor now, knit into the fabric of his body). But they still made the choices. It's not fully mind control that they'd be railing against if they could.

Or is it? What would mind control really look like? Since it doesn't exist in the real world, we have no parallel for being forced to do something you don't want to do by some sort of possessing force. Perhaps thinking it was your own choice, when you would have done something else if you could, is really as close as we can get to a real world version.

[gray-thistleclan]

An ask for the author!

Giving this ask to all of my favorite Clangen blogs, so maybe I’ll get some advice from folks I look up to :D 

How do you get your Clangen to dish up actual plot? Whenever I run a new clan, no relationship is consistent and it usually takes at least 15 moons to have something interesting happen, both relationship and plot-wise. 

Do you just let the game determine major events and build the rest of the plot + character interactions round those? 

I hear about people recoding the game for the results they want which is neat, just not something I’m interested in doing—it feels like that defeats the purpose of an RNG. 

Your style is SO unique, and all of your designs are incredibly striking. I love the way you portray body language and general dialogue. I'm also super intrigued by the prophecies and maladies of the soul how do you get all of this stuff from a clangen?!

I only stumbled upon Gray-Thistleclan recently but I am very fond <3

Wellll usually my plot elements stem from me tryna find a creative way to justify what happens in the game (plus the dark forest challenge is pretty much the only reason anything interesting is happening right now lol)

Like I needed to think of why the curse started, where our starting cats came from and how that ties together ect ect

So, i just play about 10 moons ahead and try to shape the plot/foreshadow accordingly, i have a greater, overarching plot in mind but it might be fucked by rng so we'll seee

HOWEVER some things in the game i choose to ignore because i dont really like it lol for example cotv and gustspeckle have the same amount of romance as cotv and cherrystar (MOSTLY its cotv crushing on gust) I CHOOSE it for it be non canon its not happening, if gust and cotv actually become mates i dunno what ill do

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hey! wanted to say i appreciate you talking about how malleus doesn’t appeal to you :,) he doesn’t quite appeal go me either, but i couldn’t find anyone that didn’t either hate or love him, both sides often mischaracterizing him. i felt like i was going mad. but you put my feelings about him into words in a really eloquent and well thought out way, so, yea! thanks for saying your honest opinions on the internet haha

[Please check my pinned post’s FAQ section if you’d like to read about why I personally dislike Malleus!]

Thank you!! It’s not often that you get gratitude for being critical of a character (as opposed to, like, outright praising them) so this ask genuinely took me by surprise.

I find that Malleus is one of those characters that’s quite difficult to talk about. Because he’s so well-liked by English-speaking fans (fandom-run polls consistently show that he is liked by at least 50% of responders), his presence has become almost stifling… which formed a counterculture (ie hate) against him. In any case, whether you think negatively or positively of Malleus (or feel nothing at all for him), that can really color how his words and actions are perceived. But sometimes it feels like you can’t even talk about him without walking on eggshells. People tend to feel so strongly about Malleus and you never know how they’ll react to the thoughts you express.

It should be recognized that both extremes will blindside you. The most ardent Malleus lovers will make everything about him or enable and defend him to the bitter end even when Malleus has done reprehensible things. The most passionate Malleus haters will nitpick what are just normal or innocent actions as The Worst Possible Thing Ever or claim he’s aggressive all the time. Neither truly compasses who he actually is.

As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I’d like to think that even though I dislike the guy, I try and give him a fair shot 😅 Some of the issues I have with him are no fault of his own and result from the narrative’s failure to capitalize on his intrigue or the nature of gacha games and the main story being limited. Other issues I’ll admit are completely my own annoyances and gripes (like how I take issue with OP characters with few setbacks, how I don’t like characters that try to force their views onto others, or how I have had bad Malleus-related fandom experiences). Then there’s just the objective truths, like how Malleus is extremely arrogant but is rarely called out for it or rarely faces consequences for his actions in-universe (or from the fandom). He’s still a complex character, just… not one I enjoy.

Looking back on it 💦 I almost can’t believe I have like… 8 or 9 posts detailing my frustrations with Malleus, and each of them expressing significantly different issues from the last. I’m glad that this blog can be a space for me to discuss my thoughts and opinions without angry fans of X or Y character coming at me 😭 I unfortunately can’t say that this is always the case… But for the most part, it’s pretty peaceful here and I really appreciate that!

I’ll close this post off by shouting out the Malleus fans who don’t take it personally when someone else says they’re not a fan of their blorbo. The Malleus fans who are willing to come to the table and listen, the Malleus fans who acknowledge his imperfections and faults, the Malleus fans who accept that others can choose to dislike him for any reason, whether big or small, and don’t push for “correcting” the “wrong” opinion. I know that it sounds like such a low bar to clear, but trust me when I say I’ve witnessed and experienced much worse behaviors (from a loud minority of Malleus fans) and would not wish that upon anyone.

[xf-cases-solved]

today we are sitting in our office at 6 in the morning thinking about...

that scene in "squeeze" that everyone knows by heart, where mulder asks scully, "do you think i'm spooky?" and it's very cute and weirdly sexually charged like all of their interactions are, but also that scene is really important to their character development actually??

this is episode three, and with the understanding that these two are unhinged and kind of speedrun the whole "i would die for you, you're everything to me, you jump i jump, etc" thing, ostensibly they're still getting to know one another, and, more importantly, mulder's still trying to gauge if scully is hashtag legit. like, his gut tells him that, yes, for some reason the fates aligned and made it so the shadow government fucked up real bad and actually sent him an ally instead of an enemy (and also she's not hard on the eyes either, just sayin'), and also she held a security operative at gunpoint for him just one episode earlier, so i think by this point he does genuinely trust that she doesn't have a secret agenda

what he is LESS certain of, however, is whether or not she is going to want to stick around once she fully understands just what a fucking bummer it is to be fox fucking mulder, resident hoover building loser. like she is this literal genius agent and medical doctor, who's professional and hot and kind, and she could easily have an extremely promising career ahead of her, and he doesn't think she understands just how detrimental it is for her to go all in with him. and this case, with these by-the-book buddies of hers, is the first time they are really facing that issue head on

going back to the aforementioned scene, mulder is testing her. through that whole bit, he's testing her. ("why didn't they ask me about the case?" "bc they're my friends and they're more comfortable with me" "why would i make them uncomfortable?" "bc of your reputation" "rEpUtAtIoN?? who has a reputation???") like he is trying SO hard to get her to stop talking around the issue and just say "they think you're a fucking freak, mulder," which ofc she won't, which is why, when she gives him the perfect set up with, "they think your theories are..." he IMMEDIATELY swoops in and asks, "spooky?"

and then he looks her in the eye and asks, "do you think i'm spooky?"

and he says it in his joking tone, but i fully believe that there is a genuineness there. he already knows before talking to colton and his cronies how the conversation is going to go, and he doesn't care, bc he doesn't care about their opinions, but he DOES care about her opinion, and i think that scares him. i think it's been a very, very long time since he last gave a shit about what someone thought of him, and he's extremely uncomfortable. i think that's why he goes so hard just seconds later with the straight faced "aliens are actually grey" thing with colton. he doesn't do it to taunt colton, or for his own amusement, but bc he wants to show scully flat out, "this is what they think of me, and this is how i am going to act in response. can you handle it? can you handle being a social pariah? or do you think i'm spooky?"

the theme comes up repeatedly in this episode, actually. he outright admits to being territorial over her, but in the same breath gives her permission to work on the case with colton instead of him, bc he KNOWS what a shit meal she's been served by the fbi, pairing them up together, but then she's like, "hmmm, idk, i think you must know more than you're saying and i wanna know what it is," and he is so delighted, bc not only does it mean that she's really committed to finding the truth, not just closing the case as fast as possible, but it also means that she's choosing him over them, and that N E V E R happens

but later in the episode he also makes the remark about how in thirty years she'll be "head of the bureau," which is another peek into his mind grapes, showing us that he's still very stuck on this idea that working with colton & friends is going to make her suddenly come to the realization of "oh wait, what am i DOING with this loser??" he's afraid of that happening, and he's afraid about the fact that he's afraid of it in the first place, and bc this is mulder and scully we're talking about, and neither of them are physically capable of saying what they're feeling, he just keeps making jokes and quips and being a dick to colton (who deserves it, but still), bc the alternative is admitting to scully, "hey, i really like your company and would kind of really very much like it if you didn't leave me for the cool kids agents," and he's not going to do that. not just bc of the vulnerability aspect, but bc he would view it as selfish, bc he fully believes that being stuck with him is bad for her (lol i wonder if that will become a theme throughout the entire series ha ha)

but anyway, turns out his worries are unfounded, bc it turns out scully will take being mrs. spooky over climbing the career ladder any day

"do you think i'm spooky?"

"no, i think you're a fucking nerd, now shut up get me my own desk. if we push them together we can play battleship, and then later we can get to know each other carnally"

or something

they're in love, your honor

this is only episode THREE

unhinged

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7260:

I hate how people get so upset when authors remove their fics rather than orphaning them and acting like the author was soooo selfish and that orphaning is the only right and justice choice for them to make, especially when the fic in question had a handful or even no comments.

Like, people share their fics for community and connection. I share my fics for community and connection. I will always write for myself, but I share them for the human connection. If there's no connection? Well, I'm not going to share then, and I sure as hell am not going to orphan because that's MY fic, MY hard work, why would I want to remove myself from it, to not be able to show it to others and say "hey look at this thing I made, what do you think?" just because a stranger who doesn't even have the guts to tell me they like it, likes it? And there's no such thing as an individual, so many other fic authors likely do/think the same.

"Oh, but you aren't entitled to comments!" You're right, but you also aren't entitled to millions of stories at the wonderful cost of $0.00 either. It isn't selfish for people to choose to not comment, but it also isn't selfish for authors to delete and/or abandon their fics when they get no comments.

"But what if that fic helped someone through a hard time? Saved their life?" Should've told the author that, can't blame the author for prioritizing their own mental health when they weren't even aware they were carrying the burden of a stranger's mental health too.

Writing is already so hard even if you're doing it for yourself. Sharing it is terrifying. Letting people, strangers even, know the things you like, your traumas, your mistakes? The only thing that makes sharing worth it is knowing that there are other people out there who like the same things, share your traumas, and won't judge you by your mistakes and that by sharing your stories, you can find them and even if it's just for a moment, just a single small interaction.

But if you can't find them? They don't let you know that—yes, we're alike! I like this too! I understand this character! I don't mind that you're imperfect, we're human!—Why keep sharing? Why leave all these painful pieces of yourself scattered about if you gain NOTHING from it? Why leave something that was meant to be a bridge of connection up, when it goes unwalked? It's an abandoned house, an unused lot, a corpse. Community interaction is the lifeblood of fic, and if the blood doesn't flow, it will be buried.

Yes, fandom may not cost money, but there needs to be an exchange if you want it to continue because fandom is and always will be a community, not just fics and art.

"But I'm scared to comment!" "I just want to lurk!" etc.

That's valid, but you can't complain when authors delete their fics, stop posting, and fandom begins to dwindle because all they received for their efforts and nakedness is silence. Kudos and likes will always be appreciated, but that's not connected, that is not community, and that's not what authors share and bare their hearts for. Of course, you can be upset when fics disappear and authors leave, but don't bitch if you know the reason why and could have helped prevent it. If you don't play your part in the community keep your mouth shut when it dies. Don't cry at the funeral a fandom you did nothing more but look at.

Let authors delete their fics and disappear in peace. They were shown how little the community valued them when they were left in silence, and no amount of complaints and cutesy positive posts are going to change that.

Deleting fic isn't evil. It's the acceptance that no matter how much you share, how much effort you give, the community doesn't care enough to even give you a single thumbs up and it's the action of parting ways with that community.

And asking those people who just want to leave and be left alone because the community was neglectful to keep sharing AND walk away if they don't like the silence by orphaning their fics instead of deleting them is so selfish. It's cruel to pressure them to keep their work up when they're ready to leave because YOU want to just take, take, take, and give not even a thanks in return.

I'm so sick of being treated like a monster when I post a fic, work it for months upon months, see the hit could rise higher and higher, and get not even a single person interacting but being treated like a selfish monster for deleting it when continuing to share it eventually became too painful.

"Oh, but write for yourself! You shouldn't write for the comments!" I write for myself, my Google Docs are full of dozens upon dozens of fics that I read and reread, laugh and cry at. But I only share for the comments/community, and well, the community decided that it doesn't want me and so I'm done sharing. I'm never sharing again when I'll just be fucking ignored. I'm done letting people call me and anyone else who has also decided they're done sharing selfish entitled pricks for just wanting to connect with others when they didn't give a damn dollar or even just a fucking smile emoji in return

[racerchix21]

Tagged by: @jamieroyjamieroy & @nine-one-wanton ( @rdng1230 because boo needs to see this too)

Rules: Either: choose one of your published fics (or a WIP if you'd prefer), create a moodboard for it and share it along with a snippet. Or: Create a moodboard for your fave episode of the show, fave character, or a fic someone else has written that you love, and share it with some sentences about why it's a fave! (And tag some people!)

Easily my most popular fic is Tequila Makes Tommy’s Clothes Fall Off. It also happens to be the kickoff to my ongoing Tequilaverse series

Summary: The more tequila Tommy drinks the more clothes he loses. Buck learns quickly that Sal wasn’t joking when he said Tommy shouldn’t drink tequila in public

“Hey, babe. Whatcha drinking there,” Buck asks sliding into the seat next to his boyfriend gesturing at his glass.

“I dunno some tequila thing Atti made me,” Tommy mumbles lolling his head over to look at his Evan. His Evan who was sitting next to him in a tight fitting shirt and holy shit is it getting hot in here?

‘It is,’ he thinks as he starts trying to slide his flannel off his shoulders. Dammit it’s stuck on his arms and now his boyfriends laughing at him. Why did I have to put on the tight black and silver one on after his shift again?

“Help,” Tommy whines staring at Evan who’s still cackling.

“Baby, you can’t take your clothes off in public,” Buck coos easing his shirt back up.

“But I’m tooo hot,” Tommy continues whining, “I’m gonna meeeellllttt and then what would you do, Evan?”

“Baby you aren’t gonna melt. But if you did I’d figure out how to get you back home and taken care of,” Evan reassures taking Tommy’s hand running his thumb along his boyfriends knuckles. “Now I’m gonna go get you some water so sit tight for me and for the love of god keep your clothes on.”

“But you like it when my clothes fall off,” Tommy so helpfully points out leering at him. It’s not really leering when the poor guy looks like he’s 5 seconds from face planting in his plate of wings and his eyes are squinted.

Tagging: @bidisasterevankinard @thesamoanqueen @thecarrott @bangpop91 @herrmannhalsteadproduction @sunnywithachanceofbi

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Re: your post about how Ed's primary motivating emotion is fear, you're so right. People can often discount how growing up in an abusive home can train you to assume everyone's a potential enemy instead of a potential friend, and the tragedy of it is that if you go looking for knives in the dark, that's all you'll find. You end up surrounding yourself with what you grew up with, if you're not careful.

But Ed is SO brave, because despite this background, he holds out his hand towards hope. He reaches for Stede. He tries to bond with the crew. Despite the fear that lives in his BONES, he keeps trying, and that's such enormous courage.

Stede is brave for finally choosing to be his most authentic self in a world that would punish him for it, but I think Ed is brave in the same way.

Yes!!

Ed went from an abusive home into a culture that we're explicitly told is abusive - he has never known anything else and this is not a subtle thing the show tells us. We can tell from what we know of his past and his relationships with people like Hornigold and Izzy that he's consistently re-traumatizing himself and trying to recreate those harmful relationships. And yet, his hope in trying to continue to embrace the safety that Stede showed him was possible even after he was left at the docks, I think, really tells us a lot about him.

Ed can get a lot of flack in the fandom for the whole kraken spiral, but I don't think he gets nearly enough credit for the sheer bravery and strength of character he demonstrates by just trying so hard and doing his best.

[pamwritessometimes]

The Great Invasion: Chapter 3

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In a world turned upside down, where monsters hunt and hunters are the prey, Y/N must choose: follow the new rules to stay alive or join a rogue band of hunters determined to reclaim power and change the game for good.

General series warnings: dark themes, gore, kind of apocalyptic vibes, language

Chapter warnings: character death, grief and loss, mild sexual innuendo, nightmares/flashbacks, panic attack, emotional trauma

Series set after Season 15.

Somewhat canon-divergent.

Theme song of the chapter: Medicine Man by Dorothy

Catch up on Chapter 2 here

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3: I Can't Live Like This No More

The night sky was a sight you always found mesmerizing. The stars had always fascinated you more than you'd ever care to admit. When you were little, you used to sit either on the roof of your dad’s house or on the grass of the backyard, knees tucked to your chest, and stare up at the stars. You’d name the brightest ones after the things you loved — your dad, your best friend, your dog, your latest favorite cartoon character.

But tonight, when your teary eyes shot up to the heavens, there were no stars. No glimmer of hope. Only the darkness of the velvety blanket stretching across the sky. 

A groan pulled you back to the harsh reality beside you. Your father. His face, once so full of life and strength, was pale now, almost gray under the flickering light of the lantern you'd managed to scrounge. His breaths were shallow, uneven, and every time he exhaled, it felt like a countdown you couldn't stop. The wound in his side was deep, and no matter how much pressure you applied, no matter how tightly you bound it, the blood just wouldn’t stop. Your hands were slick with it, trembling as you worked frantically. It was warm when it soaked through the bandages, but the sight of it chilled you to your core.

"Dad" you whispered, voice breaking, though you tried desperately to hold it together. You couldn’t cry. Not yet. Not when there was still a chance. "Please, stay with me."

His eyes fluttered open, heavy and clouded with pain, but they found yours. He managed a faint smile, the corners of his lips trembling with effort. “Kiddo” he rasped, his voice barely audible.

“Shh, don’t talk,” you pleaded, your hands pressing harder against the wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. “Save your strength, okay? I’ll find help. I promise. Just hold on. Please, just hold on.”

But even as you spoke the words, they felt hollow, a weak attempt to hold back the tide that was crashing over you. His hand moved slowly, weakly, brushing against your wrist. The grip was faint, but you could feel his intent — a silent assurance that it was okay to let go.

But it wasn’t. Not for you. Not yet.

The hunters’ code was simple: fight and survive. But what do you do when there’s no fight left? When survival feels like a fading dream? You looked down at the blood-soaked fabric in your hands, bile rising in your throat. You couldn’t let him die. Not like this. Not here. Not now.

"Dad, you're gonna get through this" you said, your voice trembling but resolute, as if saying it enough times could make it true. “You have to.”

You had been running for what felt like hours, the echo of distant explosions shaking the earth beneath your feet. You barely even remembered how you’d gotten to this place, some abandoned stable in the middle of nowhere. 

Demons had invaded the state, and the gates of Hell were flung wide open. Every step you’d taken to get here felt like it brought you closer to an abyss you couldn’t escape.

He coughed, the sound wet and ragged, and you flinched as you felt him shudder beneath your touch. His lips moved again, and you leaned closer to catch his words.

“You… you remember…” he started, pausing to catch what little breath he could, “how I used to tell you… stories about the sky?”

You nodded, even though your throat felt like it was closing. The memories were distant now, almost too painful to recall. But you remembered the nights he’d pull you into his lap, his arms wrapped around you, pointing to the constellations. His voice had always been so calming as he spun stories about the stars. How no matter how many fell, they’d always come back, shining just as bright as before.

"Yeah” you whispered, even though your voice shook. “You used to say the stars were always watching, even when we couldn’t see them.”

Your father’s hand tightened on your wrist, his fingers trembling as he struggled to keep his grip. His breathing was slower now, labored, and you felt the weight of the finality settling in.

“That’s right” he managed to say, his lips twitching tino something like a smile. “Told you… they never really leave. Just hiding… waiting for the right time to shine again.”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a tidal wave. “You always said they were brave” you murmured, the memory softening your voice. “That they didn’t care about the dark. They knew they’d come back.”

His fingers curled weakly around yours, his grip feather-light. “That’s you” he said, his lips barely moving. “You’re… my star.”

Tears blurred your vision, and you felt like you were suffocating. You weren’t ready to let go of him. You couldn’t be. There had to be more time, more chances. You had to make sure he was okay. He was your dad. You needed him.

“You can’t leave me” you whispered, your voice breaking as you clung to him. “You can’t. I need you, Dad. Please.”

His hand twitched against yours, a final, fleeting motion, and his lips parted one last time. “Don’t… be afraid of the dark, Y/N.”

And then, his hand went limp in yours.

For a moment, it was as if everything had gone silent, the noise of the outside world muted by the weight of what had just happened.

You stared at him, willing him to take another breath, to open his eyes, to say something — anything. But he didn’t. He was gone.

A star had fallen, and the sky would never look the same again.

Your eyes shot open as your heart pounded harshly against your chest. The dream was still lingering in your mind, like smoke curling around your thoughts, and your breathing came in uneven, jagged gasps. It was suffocating. You felt like you couldn't breathe.

A voice next to you bolted, too, the scratching of a chair’s legs against the floor ear-cutting.

If the dream itself wasn’t enough to make you scream, the male shouting next to you sure as hell was.

“Flannel Casper?!” You gasped, your hand flying to your chest as if trying to keep your heart from escaping your ribcage. 

He was now standing next to your bed, his own face covered with surprise. 

“I swear I start to think you have a kink for sleeping women” you muttered, but your voice lacked any venom. It was clear you were more rattled by the dream than you cared to admit. “Were you watching me this whole time?”

Dean grinned sheepishly, clearly realizing that he’d crossed a line between awkwardness and boundary-breaking.

Great. I’m just like Cas now, he thought.

He glanced at the room around him and shrugged, his posture somehow relaxed despite the situation.

“Yeah, sorry. Still gettin’ used to this whole spectral existence thing.” He gestured around the room, his stuff now neatly unpacked and organized around the space, as if he’d moved in permanently. “I don’t really have a place to hang out when everyone else is sleeping, so…” He tilted his head toward the neatly arranged piles of things he’d apparently been busy with — his old stuff, his tapes, and, oddly enough, a stack of very questionable magazines. “… I figured I’d make myself busy. Hope you don’t mind… but, uh, you didn’t seem to have much stuff” 

He picked up the silky fabric that you immediately recognized as your pajama top from earlier. “Except for this. Didn’t take you for a fancy PJ girl… But I gotta admit, this looks nice.”

But my shirt looks better on you, he thought, as he placed the black satin on the chair next to you.

“Dean… I swear, if you don’t get the hell out of here—”

Instinctively, your hand shot under the bed, grabbing the box of rock salt you’d stashed there for just such occasions. 

“Woah, no need to get antsy.” he said, moving his hands up in surrender.

You chuckled, glancing at the salt in your hand with a wicked smirk. “Wait, does this really work on you?” You raised an eyebrow. “I just thought I’d give it a shot. You might not be a ghost, but I guess no matter how fancy you get brought back, rock salt is rock salt.”

“How about we don’t test it, huh?” Dean asked, now looking a little less confident. His grin had faded, and a note of caution settled into his voice. “Look…” He sighed, shifting slightly as he stood there. “Cas told me about you. The Hunter Games.” He winced, as though he couldn’t quite get the name out without it sounding ridiculous. “However cheesy and tacky the name sounds… I get it. You must’ve been through a hell of a lot. Enduring demons for that long…”

You furrowed your brows, the words catching you off guard at first. Then you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you know all about it, huh?”

“I actually do” Dean said, his voice softer than before. He moved toward the bed slowly. He nodded at the space beside you, almost asking permission, and after a long pause, you reluctantly let him sit. 

He let out a sigh before he continued.

“I’ve been to Hell” he said quietly, like it wasn’t something he could just shrug off. “For forty years, once. And then… then I visited a couple more times.” He chuckled dryly, though it was clear there was no humor behind it.

You stared at him, words stuck somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. Forty years in Hell. Forty. How is that even possible? This guy didn’t look old enough to spend so much time down there… Was there some kind of time loophole down there? You really didn’t want to know, but the curiosity was eating you alive.

But you decided not to ask. Some things, you figured, were better left buried.

 "My brother, Sam, he’s just as lucky as me to have taken a few scenic tours of Hell’s finest pits” Dean added, the words slipping out as if they were nothing.

You narrowed your eyes, your brain doing the math. Long brown hair, towering over everyone like a slightly less terrifying Sasquatch. "That Sasquatch’s your brother?"

"Yeah" he replied with a faint smile. "Though if you’re going to keep using the ghost terminology, he’s officially Casper Sasquatch now."

"The point is…" Dean continued, leaning back like this was some kind of casual Monday morning chat. Maybe it was a Monday morning. You weren’t sure what day it was, honestly. "What I learned is that no matter how much pain and suffering you’ve seen, you can’t save everyone. Survival changes you. But that doesn’t make you a bad person."

And damn, if that didn’t hit you like a brick to the face.

You thought of the demons, the fights, the endless struggle for survival in the games. You thought of your father. The guilt. The scars, both physical and emotional, that you carried with you. The feeling that you hadn’t done enough.

You swallowed hard as you met his gaze. “You really think that? That we’re not bad for just trying to survive? Even if it… cost more than we ever wanted to admit?”

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. I do. You did what you had to. We all do. It doesn’t make us monsters, even if it feels like it sometimes.”

For a split second, the room didn’t feel like it was closing in on you. It felt lighter. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel completely alone.

He could sense the slight shift in you, and he couldn’t help, but smile faintly to himself.

“I think I've heard that name before” you broke the silence. 

Your words earned a confused expression from Dean. 

“Malgathor” you clarified, then sighed. “I just… I just don’t remember where or when.”

Dean thought for a moment and then said.

“Well, I know someone who might be able to help you remember.”

“Wait, what?”

Castiel glanced over at Dean, who was sitting across the room, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table like he was trying to think through a riddle.

"She seems to be asking this a lot" he observed, his tone just shy of confused.

Dean shot you a look. "How come you hadn’t realized this sooner?"

“How come you hadn’t realized before?” Dean asked you. 

"I dunno” you shrugged. “I mean, the guy seemed weird… but I wasn’t gonna point that out. I was just trying to be polite. But, of course, he's an angel!" you added, gesturing vaguely at Castiel, who was still standing there like a celestial vending machine with a perplexed expression.

“I am standing right here” the angel deadpanned.

You blinked and turned to him. "Yeah, sorry, totally forgot. My bad." You paused. "So… how many other celestial or demonic beings do we have here? We've got an angel, two flannel ghosts, the big G.O.D., a witch who once ruled Hell… a normal Tuesday for you guys, huh?"

“We actually have a few of my brothers and sisters here” Castiel replied, then motioning to each angel. ”And we also have some demons who are loyal to Rowena. Like Gregor there.”

Gregor, who had been sitting across from you and tried his hardest to pretend he didn’t notice you, gave you an awkward half-wave.

You shook your head in disbelief and then refocused on Castiel. "So…” you started. “How can you help me remember? Hypnosis? Some weird Freudian method? Or maybe an angel mind-meld? You know, the whole psychic healing touch thing you guys are good at?"

Castiel tilted his head, his trademark "I'm trying to decipher your odd human behavior" look in full effect. "An 'angel mind-meld' is not exactly how I would describe it”  he said, his voice dry but patient. "However, I can attempt to access your memories directly. It may be uncomfortable, though."

"Yeah, no thanks" you shot back, crossing your arms. "Last time I went down memory lane, it came with a side of traumatic nightmares. I’m not exactly itching to repeat that."

“Well… I don’t have many options” Castiel said.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “So long for angels.”

“If you have a better suggestion, I’m open to hearing it. Otherwise, I would recommend we proceed.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Look, Cas… Can I call you Cas? Well, I will… it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer. I just… I don’t exactly love the idea of someone rooting around in my head like it’s an old attic full of cobwebs.”

“I won’t force you to do it… But it’s our best chance so far at finding Malgathor and trying to end this.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair as you considered Castiel's words. 

"Our best chance, huh? Great. No pressure or anything."

Dean, who had been watching the exchange with a smirk, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "C'mon, it’s not like Cas is gonna redecorate in there. He’s just gonna dig up whatever’s buried, and hopefully, it leads us to something useful."

You shot him a glare. "Yeah, sure, because having an angel sift through my brain is totally on my bucket list."

Castiel, ever the patient one, waited until your attention returned to him. "I understand your hesitation" he said evenly. "But the memories you’ve locked away may hold the key to stopping Malgathor. If we don’t act, more lives will be lost."

You sighed, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. He wasn’t wrong. If there was even a chance that this could help, you had to take it. The alternative (doing nothing) wasn’t an option.

"Fine" you said finally, your voice laced with reluctant resolve. 

An angel poking around in your brain wasn’t exactly at the top of your Things I’m Excited About list. Hell, it wasn’t even on the Things I’ll Tolerate for the Sake of Survival list. But here you were.

Castiel guided you back into your room and gestured for you to sit in the one rickety chair that had definitely seen better days. Dean was in your trail, leaning casually against the doorframe. You weren’t sure if he was genuinely concerned or just tagging along to see if this all went up in flames. Either way, you appreciated the backup. 

You sat down, steeling yourself for the inevitable weirdness of whatever angelic brain surgery Cas was about to perform. But then you felt the gentle pull of fabric brushing over your arm. You turned your head and saw Castiel looping a tie around your shoulder, threading it through the back of the chair.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as you shoved the tie off and bolted upright. Your heart thudded in your chest, and your pulse roared in your ears. “What the hell are you doing?” You glared at Castiel, the panic clawing its way up your throat.

Dean raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly at your reaction. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just to keep you from flailing around when things get… messy.”

“Messy?” you snapped, shooting daggers at him before looking back at Castiel.

“I told you this would be uncomfortable” Castiel said, his tone calm but unyielding. “Restraining you will reduce your movements… and, in turn, your pain.”

“There was no mention of tying me down!” you hissed, your irritation boiling over.

Dean’s smirk faded as he took a closer look at you. Your breathing was shallow and ragged, your eyes wide and glassy. You weren’t just annoyed. 

You were terrified.

“Hey, take it easy” Dean said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. But it was too late. The walls were closing in, and your mind had taken you somewhere else entirely.

“Alright, you know what? No. This isn’t gonna work” you said quickly, bolting for the door before either of them could stop you. 

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. “Great idea, Dean” he muttered to himself before pushing off the wall to follow you.

You were halfway down the hall, your heart thundering in your ears. Panic buzzed under your skin, rising in waves that you couldn’t control. You hated this feeling, the helplessness, the vulnerability. It made you feel small. Weak.

Then, without warning, you collided with something solid. You stumbled back and looked up, only to find yourself staring into the face of a giant in flannel. Casper Sasquatch. His brow furrowed as he caught you, concern spreading across his face like wildfire.

“Hey, hey — are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle, almost like he wasn’t sure if you were about to break down or punch him in the face.

If you were anywhere near your right mind, you would’ve tossed out a casual “Yeah, I’m cool. Totally fine. Why, what’s up?” but your body wasn’t cooperating. Your breath was uneven, and you could feel that you were seconds away from delivering a full-blown panic attack. So, rather than answering him with anything even remotely reasonable, you did the only thing that made sense in that moment: You stormed off.

You found a storage room and ducked inside, slamming the door shut behind you. The sound echoed in the small space, and you leaned against the door, struggling to steady your breathing.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

But the more you tried to calm yourself, the more your mind rebelled. The fluorescent lighting in the storage room blurred, shifting into the dim, flickering glow of another room.

A familiar scene began to claw its way into focus — the one you saw at the war room yesterday.

You were back in that chair. The ropes bit into your skin, your wrists raw from struggling. 

“Where’s the fight from the Games now, little hunter?” a voice sneered.

You couldn’t see his face, but you remembered the voice. Barbas.

You couldn’t see his face, but you didn’t need to. His voice had imprinted itself on your mind like a scar that wouldn’t heal. His silhouette loomed closer, shadows shifting unnaturally around him. You could feel his presence, the oppressive heat, the stench of sulfur and something metallic curling into your nose.

“You know…” he began, his voice taking on a mocking lilt. “You could make this so much easier for yourself. But every time I bring you down here…” He chuckled, a sound so cold it made your blood freeze. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? You just have to put up a fight. Every goddamn time.”

His footsteps grew louder as he circled you, the sound blood-freezing.

“But I know” he continued, his tone almost casual now, as if this were a friendly chat and not a nightmarish interrogation in a hellish made-up dungeon in a five star hotel. “It’s probably instinct, isn’t it? No matter how many times I wipe that fragile little memory of yours clean… there’s a part of you that just knows.” He paused, his voice dipping lower, softer. “Still feels something's missing, huh? And it's always happenin' here.”

He leaned closer, his shadow enveloping you, and for a moment, you thought you might suffocate from the weight of his presence. 

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay still, to fight against the rising tide of panic. But then his tone shifted again, an almost mocking warmth seeping into his words, like a twisted parody of kindness.

“You should be grateful, you know” he said, his breath curling around you like chains. “No other hunter has the life you do. All thanks to me. And my little help in those fights…Not many contestants get the green light to bring in holy water, you know? Or a silver blade sharpened just so. But you? Oh, you’ve had a golden ticket. My golden ticket.”

He stepped closer, his shadow looming large and cold over you. “But golden tickets don’t come cheap, do they?” 

He crouched down, his face just out of view in the dim light, but you could feel his smirk like a blade against your skin. “You don’t get all that without giving something in exchange. And you know it damn well.”

Your stomach twisted as the words were rattling against the fragile walls of your mind. Memories scratched at the surface, desperate to escape, but something held them back. 

Your knees buckled, but you caught yourself on a shelf. Sweat dripped down your temple, your chest heaving as the visions began to fade, leaving only fragments behind.

You could hear a muffled “Sam, where’d she go?”

And then came the knocking.

It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t patient. It was loud, urgent, and relentless.

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice cut through the muffled haze in your head. “Y/N, please open up. I know you’re in there.”

You didn’t move, still struggling to regulate your breathing.

There was a beat of silence, then you heard his voice again. “I can ghost myself in, but I know you’re not a fan of that, so please, just… open the damn door!”

You grimaced, your fingers gripping the shelf tightly. The last thing you wanted was to face him or anyone right now. But you also took that Dean Winchester wasn’t the type to take “leave me alone” as an answer, especially when he thought something was wrong.

Dragging in a shaky breath, you pushed yourself upright. Your legs trembled like a newborn fawn’s, but they seemed steady enough to get you to the door. You shuffled toward it and cracked it ajar just a couple inches.

But Dean didn’t wait for an invitation. He pushed the door open further, stepping inside. His eyes roved over you, taking in your disheveled state, the sheen of sweat on your brow, and the hollow look in your eyes.

“What the hell happened in here?”

You shrugged, your throat still too tight to form proper words.

“Don’t give me that” Dean said, his tone hovering between exasperation and care. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost — scratch that. Worse than a ghost.”

You glanced away, suddenly finding the floorboards fascinating.

“Please, Y/N… Just… talk to me.”

You inhaled shakily, wrapping your arms around yourself like they might hold you together. 

You closed your eyes shut, letting yourself seem fragile for once. You couldn’t help, but feel the weight of the vision — memory, more like. You exhaled, and decided to admit.

“I—" you started, taking a shaky breath" I think everything I was led to believe was a lie.”

Next on The Great Invasion (Sneak Peek from Chapter 4):

You swallowed, suddenly regretting every decision that had led you to this moment. “I just thought.... you’ll already sneak back into my room–”

“My room” he corrected automatically, his lips curling into the kind of smirk that could either infuriate or disarm you, depending on the mood. Tonight, it did a little of both.

You rolled your eyes, more out of habit than annoyance and then continued. “–so I figured… maybe you could just… stay.”

Dean blinked, his eyebrows climbing just a fraction higher and for a second you could tell he was debating whether to make a joke or take you seriously. “You want me to stay? While you’re asleep?”

Shit's gettin' intense, but don’t worry, it’s only going to get wilder from here! 🤭

Can't wait to read your thoughts on this.

xx Pam

Chapter 4 coming soon...

🤍Series taglist🤍

@thebiggerbear @spnaquakindgdom @artyandink @globetrotter28 @kaz-2y5-spn @hobby27 @lamentationsofalonelypotato @muhahaha303

🤍Jensen taglist🤍

@roseblue373

[deesseshesca]

PAC : What can of relationships match my vibes ?

Girlboss desire love 2 !

Besties, let’s talk ✨Tarot & Tea✨I accept all forms of payment: PayPal, debit, credit, even Google Pay. So, Chérie d'Amour, don’t waste your time secure that bag 💰 and let’s get into ALL the juicy details your future is serving. 🃏💖 Your next adventure is waiting!

PERSONAL READING (SALE) (LINK)

FIRE TO THE MOON

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

DOWN TO MY CORE

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

PILE 1

SONG : I Got U - Ronisia ft Niska

The kind of relationship that matches your soul feels like a sacred dance between two spirits, neither overshadowing the other but instead amplifying their brilliance. You need someone who sees you not just for your beauty but for the fire and dreams that flicker in your eyes. This person doesn’t seek to mold or control you but stands beside you with reverence, knowing you shine brightest when you’re free to be your authentic self.

Their love is steady, unwavering—a safe harbor in the chaos of the world. They choose you, not just in fleeting moments of admiration but in every room, even one filled with dazzling lights and extraordinary people. To them, you are the light. You are the reason their eyes wander no further, their heart stays still, and their ambition grows stronger.

This love is one where they honor your independence, never trying to dim your spark but fanning it gently, wanting you to rise higher, dream bigger, and be your boldest, most beautiful self. They look at you and see eternity—not as something they own but as something they are privileged to walk alongside. Their soul whispers to yours, always, “You are my choice. You are my always.”

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 2

SONG : Mélodie - Ronisia

The kind of relationship that aligns with your essence is one where love feels like a sanctuary—a space where you are not pursued for the thrill of the chase but cherished for the light you bring to the world. You need someone whose devotion is unwavering, who sees you not as a prize to be won but as a muse to be adored, a queen to be honored, and a soul to be nurtured.

This person will look past the beauty that leaves others speechless and see the depths of your heart, the quiet strength within, and the dreams you carry. They won’t be intimidated by your standards or the radiance that sets you apart; instead, they’ll rise to meet you, making it their life’s purpose to show you how deeply you are loved. Their love is tender yet enduring, expressed in thoughtful gestures, kind words, and the quiet reassurance that you are their greatest treasure.

With them, you will never have to ask for affection, because they will pour their heart into worshiping and pleasing you, not out of obligation but from the pure joy of seeing you happy. Their soul will speak to yours in every touch, every glance, and every whispered promise, reminding you always: “You are my everything, and I am here to love you endlessly.”

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 3

SONG : Tourner la page - Emma'a

The kind of relationship that matches your essence is one that feels like a living masterpiece a grand symphony of devotion where every note is played with intention and passion. You need a love that doesn’t hide in the shadows but announces itself boldly to the world, as if saying, “This is the person I cherish, and I will show them in every way imaginable.”

This person will love you in ways that feel like poetry come to life, where every gesture is larger than life, yet filled with genuine meaning. Their affection isn’t quiet or understated it’s vivid, rich, and unapologetically extravagant. They’ll take pride in celebrating you, making sure the world knows just how much you mean to them, not for the sake of appearances but because their heart cannot contain the magnitude of their feelings.

It’s a love that builds something solid and enduring, where their actions match their words, and their dreams always include you. They see you not only as their partner but as their greatest treasure, someone worth every effort, every moment, and every grand gesture. Their love whispers, “You are the reason I reach higher, dream bigger, and live more beautifully.”

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[coffee-and-tea-time]

♪.•*¨*•.¸¸♬ Oh, I could hear you for a lifespan and more  ♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

Hello! Coffee and Tea talking!

We really sorry for disappearing so long but we got two things planned for y'all, first one, we got some asks directly talking to us wich we love and found very cute so we plan to make a separate post for Q&A and replying to cute asks, so if anyone feels shy about asking something or saying something, it’s your time, just shoot! We love yapping with you guys fr fr ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ - Coffee

Secondly, we are glad to inform you guys of our Valentine’s Day special!! it will consist of any of our characters answering your asks about them directly! so if you have something cheesy you’d like to say to any of our babies, go right ahead through asks! - Tea 

if you want context, you can go here but it's not that necessary we think - the twins

count word: 3k

tw: panic, lowkey sarcastic reader, spanish words (translation at the end), yandere behavior, an idiot, little paranoia, writing in you/yours, reader always getting interrupted, overall fluff, rich yandere, willing reader 

Doesn’t it sound like an easy choice? The one that stands out the most!

 Your smile widens, imagining who might be behind this enigmatic title of “the singer” there was no spinning it, the mysterious yet extravagant summary the smiling seller told you totally bought you. Is this your wattpad moment? where you suddenly start living with Harr-

“Ejem, if you might excuse my forwardness, But I advise you to quicken this process since waiting for long can turn… complicated for our candidates, and management, and the general public. Though by the looks of it I think you’ve already made a decision, Dear. So tell me, who’s the lucky one? that gets to not turn even more crazy than they already are”

“Well, I want the singer… Please”

You give the seller a shy smile, hoping you don't look too pretentious with your choice but you don’t have time to dwell on it much. Before you knew it, the seller was already shaking your hands congratulating you for your decision before slipping away to make a quick call  to who you guess is the yandere. Now that you think about it… Why had nobody chosen him before? like, it’s a very obviously perfect option, maybe he was new in the system or som-

“Dear, sorry for my disrespectful interruption of your thoughts again, but I must inform you that the limo is here, seems like Angelo wants to give you a blissful and boastful first impression! It was a pleasure to meet you, Darling”

The seller attempts to try and kiss your hand, but the chauffeur snaps your hands away from him saying he got clear orders of not letting anyone touch you, the seller just chuckles and raises his hands before getting back into the shop.

You stood there a little dazed before finally realizing the kind of future that lay ahead of you. Following the chauffeur, who swiftly guides you into the vehicle, You find that inside there’s even some snacks for you to enjoy through the ride but a little knot on your stomach deters you from indulging. You chose and signed the papers quickly since it was what your heart desired but, shouldn’t you have asked more before choosing? You take a deep breath, reassuring yourself that  you’re just nervous, everything will be just as good or even better than what you picture it. 

Then you look out the tinted window… Where are you right now? What's this neighborhood? Every corner is covered in fancy arrangements and decor which amuses you. Eventually, you pull out your phone to check how much longer it takes getting to this place coincidentally as the car stops its movement and interrupts your train of thought yet again.

The door of the car is opened before you get the chance to even lift a finger and you are greeted by the angelic face of a man, worthy of praise and worship, smiling down at you and offering his hand as to help you get out of the car

"Hi~, welcome welcome, how are you feeling on such a joyful day as today? I hope that you are as thrilled as I am"

He says with a charming smile, holding your hand delicately for you to exit the car then  guides you into his house, his eyes ogling you like a three course meal. 

"Would you like something to drink? A water perhaps? I don't really have much sugary drinks since I have to take good care of my vocal cords, but if that's what you'd enjoy, then I'll absolutely find a way to get it for you"

"Oh, I'm really fine, don't wor-"

His step falters before stopping dead in his tracks, his smile softening in… awe? He shuffles closer as your voice trails off by the sudden action.

"Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry to interrupt your words, I just couldn't help but get closer… you speak so softly, I'd wish to hear you more clearly"

He puts his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, though it quickly moves up to your neck, his thumb caressing the side of your throat.

"You shouldn't overthink too much, your duty here is being happy with me, and when I'm not around, feel free to enjoy your free time as you wish; my only condition here is you take care of yourself and… to not look at anyone else in the eye for too long… but well, you should’ve already expected that, you signed for it, honey"

You shy your gaze away from those hazel eyes that seem to adore you so much, but he gently holds your face with his other hand, gently moving your face to look at him as he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“Angelo. of course I-”

As you were about to get your first lovely tender moment with your dream yandere; someone interrupts, you couldn’t see who, Angelo quickly pulls you into a safe hug, with your face on his chest, like protecting a precious yet fragile gem. You also failed to see his murderous glare, silly cute fool. 

“What?”

“Angel, hay una llamada urgente, es tu manager, es algo relacionado al concierto del mes que viene” 

….Huh? Spanish? 

“¿Otra vez jodiendo con lo mismo? Ya lo cancele, que deje de molestar… Ahí voy, es capaz de venir hacía acá si no le contesto, podes irte”

Clueless of the situation, you keep still comfy in the hug as he pats your head, he really uses a good cologne, just when you hear footsteps falling away. is when he loosens his grip and looks back at you with a soft smile before kissing your cheek.

“Sorry I can't give you a good tour at this moment Honey, my manager is calling for some urgent work matters, hope you can forgive me. In the meantime, a maid can show you around our backyard or you can ask her to guide you to your room. I decorated it myself, very standart, so you can change it as you like, Darling. I’m thrilled to see your precious self around each corner in the mansion, because everything you choose or touch will be always have your print on it” 

He kisses you hand before calling the headmaid, a woman who gives you the impression of a sweet grandmother who bakes cookies and pies. As you two were left alone, she giggles and offers to walk you around the garden, which  you gladly accept. 

“Oh, look this one was chosen by one of the butlers, the name is a real tongue twister for me ‘rhododendron’ or something like that, I'm too busy to keep worrying about memorizing such a name. Oh dear, sit inside the gazebo, it has such a good view of the garden, would you rather have some tea or coffee? I’ll bring you some to enjoy this evening”

You thank her as you giddily enter the gazebo and sit on one of the chairs around a little tea table. You were enjoying the view as you imagined cute things to do with Angelo, but it seems like today is the day that everyone decides to interrupt you. A loud noise startled you, a man dressed formally was gasping for air, cold sweat on his face as if he saw Ghostface or something. 

“You have to get out of here”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

You watch him hurry to you and grab you by the arm but by reflex you pull back in the opposite direction, like if it were some siblings fighting you two on each side of the table, moving when the other moves. You remember his voice, he is the one that interrupted you earlier with Angelo.

“You need to run, he’s a fucking psycopath”

Oh, what a surprise. The yandere is a psychopath, wow.  Wait, it’s surely not common that other people around them knew about their yandere antics, what are you supposed to do now? Fuck, maybe you really should have bought that manual for 'how to take care of your yandere' when they offered it to you on the website to know what to do in this moment.

“Okey, I think I know what are you worried about, believe me, it isn’t a problem, I-”

“YOU DO NOT KNOW! That psycho, some time ago- he started saying he needed to prepare for his angel of music and at first I thought he was paroding tha phantom of the opera, but then he began firing a lot of people, he only allowed the old servants and people that weren’t able to speak english to remain, I learned the language in secret since I can’t let this happens to someone. He wants to trap you and control you in…”

And then, you stopped listening, this wannabe of a hero is kinda getting on your nerves. Yeh yeh, psychopaths are bad, you know, you care? Nope, you literally had to go through so much paperworks and half of it asked if you were sure of it, even going through a psychological test! This guy isn’t just about to stress you out on your perfect day where you finally got your dream lover for life. But before you could tell this guy to leave you alone, the maid that treated you like a granddaughter was calling for you. You were about to happily go when the weirdo grabbed you by your arm and told you to remember what he said… 

Anyways, you ignore him and act as if he doesn’t exist as you make your way to the smiling grandma waiting for you.

“Oh, sorry for making you come all the way here dear, but sir Angelo asked if you could please have the merienda with him, don’t worry. Angelo already informed us all about what would be of your taste, hope you enjoy it”

…

Ah, you really couldn’t wish for today to be more perfect, you practically spent the whole day with Angelo clinging to you and wanting to know so much about you like a cute puppy. You did not expect him to suddenly drive you to a restaurant that got your favorite food as a specialty for dinner but you sure as hell aren’t complaining. How did he know? You don't know and you pretty much don’t care, much less as when you are on your new room, in the comfiest pajamas you could ever think of, cozy laying on a damn soft bed while your hair is getting so lovingly caressed, both of you spending your time talking since neither wished to separate from the other.

“Okay Angel, I answered so many of your questions, now you answer mine….. Oh yeah, you mentioned that you liked  the process of composing a song a lot. Tell me, how is it? How does it feel?”

“Well Honey, you see, so sometimes people write music using music theory and some just go with intuition. I'm an intuition guy and… it feels kind of like pouring your heart out, how the song turns out is only partly intentional, you can say it's like love itself, you can’t fully control it, it just pops into your heart and you just need to let it out”

“And since it is like love, let me throw you another question related, how do you feel love?”

He chuckled softly as he kissed your cheek before standing up from the bed and beginning to talk as he guided you towards the door.

“A curious bunny, aren't we? Well, I don't think there's a way to properly explain love, and in our case it is even harder to put in words, you feel it. like that cute blush when I kissed you cheek, the little giggles we shared today, the loving glances,gestures, words… the endless need of protection, the endless wish for the other, the eternal devotion, the way the heart jumps overly excited nonstop and every word you precious voic-... Sorry my dear, I seem to have grown a little excited over there, hope you can excuse my behavior… I’m just so so so so intoxicatedly in love, you should rest now Honey, believe me, you will have no way to doubt my love. I will be in the room next door if you need a human body pillow to cuddle you to sleep; dulces sueños, Amor”

As he closes the door behind him, you are left there with a foolish smile, giggling as you hug your pillow while recalling the events of the day and think of what’s in stock for you. Will it be too much to really get into his room for cuddles and see his reaction? The only thought made you kick your feet yet again, before you could make a choice, a hand appeared from below the bed, scaring the shit out of you and just when you were about to scream to alert Angelo. The guy gets out from under the bed, revealing himself as the guy from before but this time wearing some spy costume.

“I’m here for you! I’m sorry I couldn’t come any sooner, it would have been so difficult to be in the same bed with that monster so close to you, you must feel so nauseous”

Yeah, so nauseous that you were just about to try to sneak into his room.

“Do not fear, I been working here for some time, I know every corner, we can escape together, I can’t let you be here alone with that, I must save you”

Buddy… there's less painful ways to die, seriously.

You stood there already seeing how this is gonna end because of this delusional man who doesn’t know how to get out of matters that don't concern him, this is no movie and he is gonna piss off the person he really should avoid getting mad.

“Hey, listen, I get that you are doing something that really shows how good morals you have, but this is entirely consensua- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

“What I must!”

Is he fucking deaf or something? He suddenly grabbed you and is trying to get you out of the room by force! You can’t believe that the one kidnaping you isn’t the loving stalker you signed up for…

Oh oh

You swear you can hear how you are about to get a heart attack as adrenaline rushes to your veins, while you were fighting the maniac to let you go, he manages to get you just outside your door, and when you turn your head to ask for help, in the end of the hallway there he is: Angelo, who seems to have lost the lovesick eyes, his eyes now blown wide and unblinking with a crazed look and bloodshot pupils. His smile didn't fade away; though it was no longer warm as it had been the whole day. Then you remember one of the major rules you were told as you signed the papers to have a yandere. 

DO NOT TRY TO ESCAPE

Does this count as trying to escape? You didn't even plan to! This dumbass moron is going to make your angel have a heavy mental breakdown! Fuck, think quickly, think quickly.

As Angelo start running towards you and the guy also tries to drag you on the opposite direction, you take the opportunity he is not focusing in you to grab one of the fancy little vases decorating the hallway and smash it into his face, that wouldn't kill him, it’s just enough for him to lose his grip on you. You run towards Angelo, that was a second or so to catch up to you anyways, hyperventilating as your face collides with his chest, he tightly holds you, whispering how glad he is that you are good and that you weren't really trying to escape from him. His focus quickly switches to the apparently crazy man wincing because of his wounds and screaming how this is not right.

“Llevenselo… al sótano especial, se ve que nuestro amigo se muere por conocerlo, haganle el favor. Yo iré a verlo mañana…” 

You stay here frozen as from the corner of your eye you catch a man and a woman walking out of the shadows and swiftly knock the guy out before dragging him to who knows where, and in the back of your mind, you know it’s better that way; though… Why were they so close to your room?

“Oh, my sweet sweet honey, i’m so sorry you been thought al that… ah, you must be wondering who those were… you can say they are security elements my love, you know, there’s a record of people that regret the choice of having a yandere and try to escape and I didnt want to take any chances of something happening to my oh so precious dear, come here, you’re shaking a lot, lets go inside my room were I can tuck you into the bed, cuddle you and, most importantly, keep you safe”

You follow him as he makes sure you don’t lose your balance as the adrenaline washed away, getting you again in the bed as he holds you close with one arm and with his free hands he continues to caress your hair softly.

“My loving darling, I hope you can see how the security was so needed, you could really end up hurt… oh my poor sweetie, tomorrow we should just stay inside beside each other, what about eating all your favorite treats? We can watch that movie you love so much or search for something new. Oh, I saw you enjoying the garden, there’s a special hidden spot where I planted saloryss, you're gonna love it. Just us clinging and doing things together, being cute lovey dovey forever and ever, Hunny”

As he continues saying sweet things to you or planning things to do with you, you realize… this is the choice you made and you couldn't be more happy about it, more so when he starts peppering your face with kisses as he notices you lost in thought, even if it started strong, this is the kinda love you always wish for: eternal love… your boyfriend is truly so cute hehe.

Love is truly blind, huh?

........

Translation of the dialogues in spanish (not so literal in so parts to help keep the vibe of the phrase):

“Angelo, hay una llamada urgente, es tu manager, es algo relacionado al concierto del mes que viene” = “Angelo, there’s an urgent call, is your manager, is something related to the concert the next month”

“¿Otra vez jodiendo con lo mismo? Ya lo cancele, que deje de molestar… Ahí voy, es capaz de venir hacía acá si no le contesto, podes irte” =  “bothering me with the same shit again? I've already canceled it, he should stop annoying me...I’ll go in a moment, he's capable of coming here if I don't answer him, you can leave."

“Merienda” = Is a light meal between lunch and dinner, think of it like tea time tho if its sweet or not, depends on the taste of the person.

“...Dulces sueños, Amor” = “Sweet dreams, Love”

“Llevenselo… al sótano especial, se ve que nuestro amigo se muere por conocerlo, haganle el favor. Yo iré a verlo mañana…”  = “Take him away.. to the special basement. It seems that our friend is dying to visit, do him the favor. I will go see him tomorrow…”

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

image from pinterest ⚘

[maluron]

Julian Bashir likes Women and Yet is Not Straight; a manifesto.

aka: queerphobes fuck off.

gasp oh no not me vagueblogging about someone who pissed me off like a tired old petty fangull

but @snowflake_challenge suggested we wrote a manifesto; In your own space, write a promo, manifesto or primer for a beloved character, relationship or fandom.

so.

In the aftermath of December 12th. Reveling in canon Garashir. Making a couple celebrating shitposts that gain traction. And I get one stupid comment

"i wish bashir still liked women [sadface emoji]" 1) wow rude—ever heard of the fandom rule «don’t harsh my squee»? make your own post if you want to complain don’t spam mine; 2) bitch he does what are you yapping about??

So yeah here’s my manifesto. Julian Bashir Does indeed like Women (among other) and Yet is Not Straight.

His hologram ending married to a man does not invalidate that the template was a huge bisexual xenophile slut (affectionate) who liked women and at least one man and possibly others and fondling their feet (entirely canon) and possibly getting his ass smacked (personal fanon) (note: having a kink has not influence whatsoever on sexual orientation but pointing this out is likely to piss off heterosexist bigots, so)

I posit that Bashir’s attraction to Jadzia while very real was stemming out of Doylist comp-het [insert siddig "spark" interview https://www.tumblr.com/beechicory/772072920481742848] and was also in the Watsonian way not very gender-traditional. She’s a beautiful statuesque young woman who exsudes Gender Energy, she’s got several lifetimes of experience as both men and women, she can bodily pick him up and toss him and that’s what attracts him: no despite, because. If they’d been to fuck she would peg him and smack his bottom. [insert "not straight" siddig interview https://www.tumblr.com/nimue44/773490608390176768]

[insert robinson "i want to fuck him" interview https://www.tumblr.com/pajamasecrets/718997301079719936] The actors themselves have said time and again that Garak and Bashir had so much more chemistry together than any other pairing involving either. I’m not going to epilogue on that: there must be already so many garashir manifestos out there. It’s fact.

I’m personnally not a fan of Bashir’s relationship with Leeta; I’ll file it under comp-het again but I admit his feelings were real and won’t invalidate them.

(I can’t argue about Ezri and how it’s unhealthy because at this point I only have second-hand knowledge.)

What I’m saying is

this twink Cannot Sit Straight and exsudes Disaster Bi vibes; also neurodivergent vibes and that’s canon too but subject of another manifesto. (I’m not saying that looking like a twink makes you gay—but acting a certain way gives you higher odds of being Not Straight)

Also Star Trek is in The Future where people should be so very chill about identity and orientation—fuck Berman forever (I still need a link to that «in the 90ties everyone had to be straight» post please, can someone point me to it?) and every character should be assumed bi until proven otherwise. And Bashir has proven to love at least several women and one man! (again I’m not saying either Everyone Is Bi, period; lots of characters can still be attracted to only one gender and/or sex but a lack of shown attraction to the other is not the same as proof of absence—unless they explicitely state one strong preference)

Now the LWD Bashir married to Garak is a hologram. They could have forfeit programming any attraction in it and made him aro-ace but they didn’t. It’s only logical to assume they made him as bi/pan as his template. The hologram marrying One (1) Cardassian man does not make Bashir Just Gay And Not Attracted To Any Woman. It makes him attracted to at least one man and Prophets know how many other people or any and every and no gender before and/or on the side.

Regarding how the LWD alternates make Garashir canon I’m choosing the "soulmates" for lack of a better word, interpretation—it’s not that they were fated to be together but that in the Prime universe they could have been, they would have been, they shoud have been but circumstances conspired against them, and in another universe given the chance they totally do. [insert perfect choice post here https://www.tumblr.com/believethestars/770420215813177344] [insert Mac interview https://www.tumblr.com/wanderingwriter87/771121857095172096]

And now if you’re really a homophobic shit or if you just happen to have a different ship ie Bashir joins the O’Brien Polycule while Garak marries Parmak or whatever yes there are alternate universe versions yes one is a hologram so maybe not a perfect copy so you can still interpret original Prime Bashir however you want and blame the hologram’s actions on a fancy grown-beyond-their-programming accident.

But bemoaning that Woke made your fav character Not Het is not a good look. Queerphobia is never a good look. Doing so in an untrue fashion looks stupid and this one was stupidly biphobic. You’re allowed to not like a canon development but think long and hard about why exactly you don’t like it before you come spouting bigoted shit especially on someone else’s post.

Ok that manifesto was mainly just an excuse to collect Doctor Twink pictures because I love him. And his stupid lizard husband (affectionate). https://www.tumblr.com/see: smileyobrien/769842115232563200 https://www.tumblr.com/dreamerdrop/773084827961491456 They’re in love and I love them, Your Honor. Thank you for your attention.

(and queerphobia on my posts will still get you blocked)

[yolobloggers]

Forever After Goodbye (II)

~Summary: The reader has taken some off to mend her heart and move on. What she didn’t plan was falling in love and finding her happily ever after with the powerful original, Elijah Mikaelson.

~A/N: Dear Readers,

Wow, long time. Thank you for patiently waiting for the second part of the The Last Goodbye. As promised, I opted for two alternative endings; one where the reader ends up with Klaus and other other where the reader ends up with Elijah. Elena is not the main lead, I do not have anything against her, its just for the plot. Your feedback is always welcome! Happy Reading xx

~You can refresh on the story here:

The Last Goodbye

Forever After Goodbye (I) - Klaus Mikaelson

~Characters and Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Reader(Platonic), The Mystic Gang and The Mikaelsons

~Warning: Swearing.

~Third Person POV:

“FUCK!” Y/N exclaimed, her forehead meeting the steering wheel with a dull thud. Her mind felt like it had split in two—one half applauded her for finally choosing herself, for walking away from the chaos that had consumed her life. The other half screamed at her to call everyone back, to reassure them, to slip back into the role of the ever-dependable, ever-sacrificing Ms. Goody Good.

She leaned back in her seat, staring at the dashboard, and exhaled sharply. Why am I like this? she wondered. Was this an ingrained habit or the psychological fallout of years spent bearing everyone else’s burdens? Shaking off the thought, she forced herself upright and took a long, steadying breath.

The vibrant energy of New Orleans surrounded her—the French Quarter buzzed with life, its colorful streets alive with the soulful wail of jazz, the clinking of glasses, and the allure of trinkets sold at eclectic shops. A faint smile tugged at her lips. For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into the part of her subconscious that patted her on the back. She’d done it. She’d taken a step toward herself.

But the path forward wasn’t easy. She had years of grief to unravel, years of pushing down her pain. Since her parents’ untimely death, Y/N had been in survival mode. She had attended their funeral while shouldering her brother Jeremy’s grief, navigated the endless drama the Salvatores brought into her life, and even let herself fall for one of them—a choice she now regretted deeply. She’d lost so many people along the way, but worst of all, she’d lost herself.

Yet, before she could truly embrace this second chance, there were two things she needed to do: call Jeremy and find Elijah.

Digging through her tote bag, she found her phone, which she had turned off the moment she fled Mystic Falls. With a sigh, she powered it back on, bracing herself for the barrage of missed calls and texts. The notifications flooded in, her screen lighting up with names that once brought her comfort but now only stirred frustration.

Her thumb hovered over Damon’s name as she read his text.

Damon:Y/N, come back home. Everyone is freaking out… Elena is all over the place. She’s very upset. We’ll figure something out. Come home.

A scoff escaped her lips. “Fuck you, D,” she muttered under her breath before hitting speed dial for Jeremy. The phone rang only a couple of times before his worried voice came through.

“Y/N!” Jeremy exclaimed, the relief and panic clear in his tone. “Where the hell have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?!”

“Hey, J-bear,” she said softly, her voice calm despite her racing heart.

“What the fuck, Y/N/N? I’ve been losing my mind! Where are you? Are you safe?” he ranted.

“J... J, stop,” she interrupted gently but firmly. “Let me talk. Please.”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Are you alone?”

“No,” he replied hesitantly. “Bonnie, Caroline, and Stefan are here.”

Of course, she thought, biting back a groan. “Fine,” she said, resigning herself to the lack of privacy. “I’ll just get it over with. Look, I’m fine. I needed to leave Mystic Falls, J. I know the timing isn’t ideal, but I had to do this. I need space—from everyone and everything.”

“Everyone?” Jeremy’s voice held a note of hurt.

“Not you, J,” Y/N said quickly, her tone softening. “I love you, and I need you to understand. Please, respect my decision.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Y/N could picture Jeremy processing her words, torn between his protective instincts and his love for her. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. “I love you too, sis. Just... take care of yourself, okay? And keep me updated. I can’t lose you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, “Thank you, J. Take care of yourself too.”

She could hear the commotion in the background—the gasps and hurried whispers of the Mystic gang—but she didn’t care. For once, their opinions didn’t matter.

She ended the call, leaned back in her seat, and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked like a mess. Her lavender silk dress—picked out by the bride—was wrinkled, her makeup was smudged, and her hair was dishevelled.

“Jeez,” she muttered, grabbing a makeup wipe from her bag. “I’m not going on an Elijah hunt looking like this.”

Once she had tidied herself up, she stepped out of the car and surveyed her surroundings. The memory of her last meeting with Elijah played in her mind—the feel of his arms around her waist, his warm hand brushing her cheek as he whispered promises of loyalty and love. It had been her lifeline then, and it was her guiding star now.

She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, took a deep breath, and started walking through the French Quarter. The lively streets were packed with people, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand. She passed by charming cafés and quaint shops, mentally noting which ones she’d revisit when she had more time.

Eventually, she found herself at Rousseau’s, a cosy bar that seemed to hum with history. Sliding onto a stool, she caught the bartender’s eye.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” she said, flashing a polite smile.

As she waited for her drink, she glanced around the bar, scanning the faces of patrons. Part of her wanted to call Elijah—just a quick call, and he’d be there—but something held her back. She needed a sign, an organic moment to confirm that she was doing the right thing.

The city buzzed around her, full of possibilities. Y/N wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was moving toward something good—toward someone who had always been her safe haven.

When the bartender set her drink down, she took a sip and let the burn calm her nerves. As her fingers toyed with the trinkets she had bought earlier, she whispered softly to herself, “Where are you, Elijah?”

She knew better than to mention the name “Mikaelson” here. She could tell that there were other supernatural beings here. Gulping her drink, she picked over on her search for the man in the suit. 

“Y/N...” The voice reached her through the din of the crowded bar, cutting through the noise like a melody she could never forget. She turned on her barstool, her heart thundering as her eyes met Elijah’s.

Without thinking, she leaped into his arms, tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against his shoulder, clinging to him as though he were her lifeline. “Y/N, are you all right? Why are you crying?” Elijah’s voice was laced with concern as one arm wrapped securely around her waist while the other cradled her head gently.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her words muffled against him.

Elijah pulled back slightly, his hands coming to rest on her cheeks as he examined her face with a mixture of worry and tenderness. His touch was featherlight, but his gaze held depth—confusion, concern, and something Y/N dared to hope was love.

“My dear,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I missed you too.”

His heart ached at the pain he could see in her, a hurt that seemed to radiate from the depths of her soul. He wanted nothing more than to take it all away. But the hushed whispers and curious stares from the bar’s patrons reminded him that this wasn’t the time or place.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he suggested gently, his hand brushing against hers.

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, grabbing her bag and linking her arm with his.

Elijah opted to walk instead of whisking her to the compound. He could sense her fragility, the delicate state of her emotions. This wasn’t a moment to rush; it was a chance—a rare one—to offer her the safety and space she needed.

As they walked, Y/N began to vent. She spoke about Damon, the wedding she’d run out on, and the weight of disappointment that had been suffocating her. Elijah listened attentively, occasionally offering a quiet word of acknowledgment. His presence was steady, calming, as though grounding her chaotic thoughts.

Eventually, they arrived at a grand, timeless structure. Y/N paused, taking in the elegant details of the house, a masterpiece of New Orleans’ golden era.

“Welcome to the Compound,” Elijah said, his voice warm.

“Lijah, this place is... magnificent,” she breathed, her eyes wide with awe.

She turned to him with a shy smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied, sincerity evident in his tone.

“Does your offer still stand? Do you still have a place for me here? I’d understand if—”

Elijah’s hands came to rest on her arms, halting her words. “Darling, I’m so sorry...” he began, his voice heavy with guilt.

Y/N’s face fell, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Oh,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

“Please, let me explain,” Elijah said quickly, his grip on her firm yet comforting. “I’m apologising for the pain my family and I have caused you. We were careless, blind to the cost of our actions. But know this—you will always have a place here. I made a promise to you, and it’s one I intend to keep.”

Tears streamed down her face as his words sank in. Overwhelmed by the warmth and belonging he offered so freely, she wrapped her arms around his torso and let herself break down.

Elijah held her tightly, whispering soft reassurances as he carried her to his room. She cried against him for what felt like hours, her emotions finally spilling over. Through it all, Elijah remained patient, a steady anchor in the storm of her grief.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Lijah. I stained your shirt... And thank you. You don’t owe me an apology. Klaus, maybe, but you? You’ve always looked out for me. Thank you for being here and for letting me stay.”

Elijah cupped her cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. “You never need to apologise, Y/N. You are safe here, always.”

In the following days, Y/N allowed herself to feel, to sit with her thoughts instead of running from them. Elijah, ever mindful of her healing, moved her to his loft outside the city—a tranquil space where she could rebuild her strength.

Some days, she found herself mesmerised by the beauty of the world during their quiet walks. On others, she struggled even to get out of bed, overwhelmed by the weight of her emotions. Elijah never pushed her. On those difficult days, he simply sat beside her, offering his quiet presence.

Healing wasn’t linear, and Elijah understood that. The loft became her sanctuary—a peaceful retreat where she could rediscover herself, bit by bit.

One evening, as Y/N sat on the balcony with a journal in her hands, Elijah approached with a cup of tea. “I thought you might like this,” he said, placing it beside her.

She looked up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You always seem to know what I need before I do.”

Elijah’s gaze softened as he took the seat next to her. “Sometimes, it’s the smallest comforts that make the biggest difference.”

Her fingers brushed his lightly as she took the tea, her cheeks warming. “Thank you, Elijah. For always being here.”

Over time, her feelings for him deepened, though she hesitated to act on them. She wanted to ensure what she felt was real—not a rebound. Elijah, ever patient, gave her all the time and space she needed.

One morning, Y/N woke to the smell of fresh coffee. She found Elijah in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he prepared breakfast.

“You don’t have to do all this for me,” she said, leaning against the doorway.

Elijah turned to her with a playful smirk. “And yet, I enjoy it.”

Her heart fluttered. “Why, Elijah? Why go out of your way for someone like me?”

He set the coffee pot down and approached her, his gaze unwavering. “Because, Y/N, you’re not just ‘someone.’ You’re everything I’ve longed for—a reminder that there’s still light in this world.”

At that moment, Y/N knew. She was undeniably, irrevocably in love with Elijah Mikaelson.

“When can I meet your siblings?” Y/N asked casually as they ate breakfast. “Whenever you’d like, darling. Though may I ask why?” Elijah’s voice was calm, but his curiosity was evident. Y/N shrugged, her tone light. “Because I think I’m ready.” When Elijah didn’t respond immediately, she glanced up from her plate to find him watching her intently, questions swirling in his eyes. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was afraid to disturb the moment. Y/N carefully pushed both their plates aside, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “A while back, you and I were dancing in a room full of people, yet I could tell the only person you saw in that room was me. In some ways, I’ve been naive… maybe even disrespectful, Elijah. I knew what you felt for me was more than friendship or pity, but I chose to dwell on my feelings for Damon instead.” She paused, her gaze earnest. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. You gave me a place to stay, a safe space to heal. That night at the ball, you asked me to let you into my world. Today, I’m asking if I can be part of yours. Your family is your world, Elijah, and I want to be part of it. To stand by you, to care for you, and to love you.” For a moment, silence filled the space between them, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Elijah’s fingers tightened slightly around hers, his usually composed expression softening.

“My dearest Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “do you have any idea what those words mean to me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her.

“Please, let me speak,” he continued, his dark eyes searching hers. “From the moment I met you, I have been captivated by your strength, your compassion, and your light. Even when you did not see yourself clearly, I saw you. I saw all of you, and I have waited for the day when you might see me too—not as a noble, not as a Mikaelson, but as a man who loves you beyond reason.” His voice broke slightly at the end, and Y/N felt tears prick her eyes. “I have lived a thousand lifetimes, Y/N,” Elijah said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, “but none have held meaning until now. To hear you ask to be a part of my world… I cannot tell you how much it humbles me. Yes, my family is my world, but so are you. And there is nothing I desire more than for you to stand by me, to care for me, and to love me, as I have loved you.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, and Elijah reached up to gently brush it away. “You are my sanctuary, Y/N,” he whispered. Before she could reply, he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or overwhelming—it was a quiet, unspoken promise, filled with all the emotions he had held back for so long. When he pulled away, Y/N smiled through her tears, her heart full. “So… when do I get to meet your siblings?” Elijah chuckled softly, his composure slipping just enough to reveal his joy. “Perhaps we should wait until after breakfast. I’ll need to prepare them—they have a tendency to be… dramatic.” Y/N laughed, and for the first time in a long while, it felt light and free. “Let them be dramatic,” she said, leaning into him. “I’ll take it all if it means being with you.”

Y/N walked confidently through the grand doors of the Mikaelson compound, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. She had asked for this—demanded it, really. If she was going to be part of Elijah’s life, she had to truly step into his world. That meant confronting not only his complicated siblings but also the pieces of her past tied to them.

Elijah walked beside her, his posture as regal as ever, but there was a faint tension in his jaw. “Are you certain about this, Y/N?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with concern. “You know they can be… unpredictable.”

“I’ve dealt with the Mystic Falls gang for years,” Y/N said, her tone dry. “I think I can handle a few Original vampires.”

Elijah’s lips twitched into a small smile, impressed by her composure. “Just remember, you’re under no obligation to win them over. This is about you and me.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, brushing an imaginary speck off her imaginary blazer, “if I’m going to be with you, I need to deal with them. That’s how families work, Elijah. Even the psychotic ones.”

They stepped into the courtyard, where Rebekah, Kol, and Klaus were already gathered. Rebekah sat elegantly at the edge of the fountain, while Kol leaned against a column, tossing an apple in one hand with a devil-may-care grin. Klaus stood nearby, his usual air of dominance radiating from him as he swirled a glass of bourbon.

“Well, well,” Kol drawled, tossing the apple aside as soon as he saw her. “If it isn’t the fiery Gilbert sister. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Kol,” Y/N said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Still working on perfecting the art of doing absolutely nothing, I see.”

Kol clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, she wounds me! Elijah, where did you find such a sharp-tongued treasure?”

“Kol,” Elijah said smoothly, stepping between his brother and Y/N, “perhaps you could save your antics for someone who hasn’t already seen through them.”

Rebekah smirked from her spot by the fountain. “Don’t waste your time, Kol. Y/N’s not like the other doe-eyed girls who swoon at the sight of you. She’s far too clever for that.”

Y/N shot Rebekah a quick smile. “Glad someone noticed.”

Klaus, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, his voice low and cutting. “Cleverness didn’t stop you from being at the mercy of this family before, did it, Y/N?”

Y/N turned to him, her posture straight and unyielding. “No, but it didn’t stop me from surviving, either. Which is more than I can say for some of the messes you’ve created.”

Klaus’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a glint of something darker in his eyes. “Careful, little Gilbert. You’re in my house now.”

“And I’m here by invitation,” Y/N shot back without missing a beat. “Yours, no. But Elijah’s, which matters a hell of a lot more to me.”

Elijah stepped forward, his presence commanding as he placed a hand gently on Y/N’s back. “Enough, Niklaus,” he said firmly. “She’s not here to rehash old grievances. This is about moving forward.”

Klaus looked at his brother for a long moment before shrugging lazily. “Moving forward, is it? How quaint. Well, far be it from me to ruin your little romance.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “God, Nik, must you always make everything so unbearable? Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Y/N smirked. “I tune him out. It’s a skill I picked up growing up with Damon.”

Kol barked out a laugh. “Oh, I like her, Elijah. Are you sure I can’t steal her away?”

Elijah turned his head slightly, fixing Kol with a look so subtle yet piercing that it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “Kol,” he said, his tone deceptively calm, “don’t push me.”

Kol raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave—for now.”

Rebekah stood and linked arms with Y/N, pulling her away from the tension brewing between the brothers. “Come on, Y/N. Let me give you a proper tour of this place. It’s far more interesting than the constant male posturing.”

As Rebekah led Y/N away, Kol called after them, “Don’t let her bore you with her interior design ideas. They’re dreadful.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “It’s like dealing with toddlers.”

“You’ve no idea,” Rebekah muttered conspiratorially.

Later, in the Drawing Room

The tension from earlier had eased somewhat. Y/N sat with Rebekah on one of the plush sofas, a glass of wine in hand. Kol was lounging nearby, still full of cheeky comments, while Elijah watched her from across the room, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

Klaus, however, remained distant, his eyes flickering to her now and then with suspicion.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Kol said, breaking the silence. “What’s it like being the Gilbert sister who actually has some sense? Must be exhausting.”

Y/N smirked, swirling her wine. “Exhausting, yes. But at least I’m not the Mikaelson sibling known for being expendable.”

Rebekah nearly choked on her drink, and even Elijah’s lips twitched with amusement.

Kol stared at her, stunned for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “Oh, I think I’m in love.”

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping closer to Y/N. “Kol, I believe it’s time you found another pastime.”

Y/N glanced up at Elijah, catching the faintest glimmer of jealousy in his otherwise calm demeanour. She reached out and lightly brushed her fingers against his hand, a silent reassurance.

“I can handle Kol,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

“I have no doubt,” Elijah replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

From across the room, Klaus watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. Despite his usual bravado, he couldn’t ignore the way Y/N seemed to command respect in a way so few ever did.

For Y/N, it wasn’t about winning over the Mikaelsons. It was about proving, to them and herself, that she belonged—not just in their world, but beside Elijah, where she knew she was meant to be.

It had been a week since Y/N decided to immerse herself in Elijah’s world, and despite her initial reservations, she found herself growing more comfortable within the walls of the Mikaelson compound. Time had softened her edges toward some of the siblings. Rebekah had quickly become a confidante, her blunt honesty and fierce loyalty making it easy for Y/N to trust her. Kol was, as always, the mischievous brother, his flirtatious remarks now more playful than irritating. Freya had been a recent addition to their gatherings, and her warm, composed demeanour was a welcome change amidst the usual chaos.

Klaus, however, remained the elephant in the room. Their interactions were minimal and strained at best, laced with underlying hostility. Y/N’s anger at him lingered—after all, this was the man responsible for so much pain in her family’s life: Aunt Jenna’s death, the torment Elena and Jeremy endured, and countless other manipulations that left scars on her soul. Yet, for Elijah’s sake, she kept her sharp words and biting sarcasm in check when Klaus was around. Barely.

Tonight, the group was gathered in one of the compound’s sitting rooms. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth mirrored in the laughter filling the room. Rebekah and Kol were bickering over a board game they’d unearthed, while Freya and Y/N were deep in conversation about New Orleans folklore. Elijah sat close to Y/N, his hand resting lightly on the arm of her chair, their closeness speaking volumes without words.

“Honestly, Kol, your strategy is abysmal,” Rebekah huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re just upset because I’m winning,” Kol retorted with a grin, earning an eye-roll from his sister.

Freya chuckled and leaned toward Y/N. “This is what I endure every day. Welcome to the madness.”

Y/N smirked. “It’s oddly comforting. Like watching Jeremy and Elena argue over the last slice of pizza back home.”

Elijah’s hand brushed against hers subtly, a quiet gesture that made her heart flutter. His silent support was a balm in the chaos, grounding her amidst the whirlwind that was his family.

Unbeknownst to her, Klaus had been watching from the doorway. His sharp eyes caught the way Elijah’s gaze softened when it landed on Y/N, the way she seemed to bring an ease to his usually stoic brother. It wasn’t lost on Klaus how rare it was to see Elijah this content, and it stirred something unfamiliar within him—something almost resembling guilt.

For days, Klaus had avoided addressing the tension between himself and Y/N, stubbornly pretending it didn’t matter. But seeing her here, effortlessly weaving her way into his siblings’ lives, made him realise that she was no passing fancy for Elijah. She was important. And that mattered.

With a sigh, Klaus stepped into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention.

“Ah, Nik,” Kol drawled, tossing a game piece onto the table. “Come to ruin the fun, as always?”

“Not tonight, brother,” Klaus replied smoothly, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N stiffened under his gaze, her guard instinctively going up. “What? Did I sit in your chair or something?” she quipped, her sarcasm a shield against his unpredictable nature.

Klaus’s lips twitched in faint amusement before he gestured toward the hallway. “A word, if you don’t mind.”

Y/N exchanged a wary glance with Elijah, who gave her a reassuring nod. Rising from her chair, she followed Klaus out of the room, her arms crossed defensively.

They stopped in a quieter part of the compound, the hum of conversation fading behind them. Klaus turned to face her, his usual swagger replaced with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

“I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice low but steady.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, what? Did I just step into an alternate universe?”

Klaus exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to retort. “I’ve done unspeakable things to your family. To you. And while I can’t undo the past, I can acknowledge the pain I’ve caused.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “Why now? Why bother apologising at all?”

“Because,” Klaus said, his tone softening, “you matter to Elijah. And Elijah matters to me. Despite everything, I don’t wish to be the reason you bring him pain.”

For a moment, Y/N was silent, her emotions warring within her. She had every right to hold onto her anger, but she also knew what it meant for someone like Klaus to admit fault.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I can’t say I forgive you. Not yet. But I can be civil. For Elijah’s sake.”

Klaus nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “That’s all I ask.”

When they returned to the sitting room, the atmosphere shifted. The tension that had lingered between them seemed lighter, replaced by a tentative truce.

Rebekah arched her brow. “Well, that’s new. Did hell freeze over while you two were gone?”

Kol grinned. “Or did Klaus finally learn how to play nice?”

Elijah’s gaze flicked between Y/N and Klaus, a small smile tugging at his lips as he realized what had happened.

Freya leaned toward Y/N, whispering with a grin, “That’s the closest you’ll get to a heartfelt gesture from Niklaus. Congratulations.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back into her chair. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged—not just to Elijah, but to the family he cherished so deeply.

And that night, even Klaus couldn’t find it in himself to ruin the peace.

Later that night, Y/N stood on the balcony of Elijah’s room in the compound, overlooking the vibrant city of New Orleans. The French Quarter buzzed with life below, but up here, in the serenity of this room, it felt like a world away.

Her fingers trailed absentmindedly over the cool metal of the balcony railing as she lost herself in thought. The events of the past week had been a whirlwind—meeting Elijah’s siblings, finding her footing among them, and even reaching a tentative truce with Klaus. Yet, amidst it all, there was one constant: Elijah.

“Penny for your thoughts, my love?” Elijah’s deep, velvety voice broke through her reverie.

She turned to see him stepping out onto the balcony, his suit jacket abandoned, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up. The sight of him, always so composed yet so effortlessly alluring, made her heart race.

“You’d need a fortune to get through all of them,” she teased, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Elijah stepped closer, his hands resting gently on the railing on either side of her. He leaned in slightly, his presence wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. “Then perhaps I’ll settle for the one that makes you smile like that,” he said, his gaze searching hers.

Y/N laughed softly, leaning into him. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come. How I went from avoiding you at every chance to... this.” She gestured to the space between them, the connection that was now undeniable.

Elijah’s eyes softened, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “And does ‘this’ bring you peace, Y/N? Happiness?”

Her breath hitched at the tenderness in his tone, the way his touch sent shivers down her spine. “More than I ever thought possible,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elijah’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “You mean so much to me.”

He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing against her skin. Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them, she found him watching her with a reverence that made her heart ache in the best way.

“You’ve brought light to a life shrouded in centuries of darkness,” he continued, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve reminded me what it means to hope, to feel, to love. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she held them back, letting a soft laugh escape instead. “How do you always know the exact thing to say to make me melt, Mr. Mikaelson?”

“Perhaps because you inspire every word,” he replied smoothly, his lips now only a breath away from hers.

Unable to resist any longer, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. Elijah responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.

When they finally parted, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I love you,” Y/N confessed, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them.

Elijah’s eyes lit up, his expression one of pure joy. “And I, you. More than words can ever convey.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms as the stars began to dot the night sky. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the dangers of their world, not the complications of their pasts. All that existed was the love they shared, a love that felt timeless and unbreakable.

“You know,” Y/N murmured against his chest, “we’re going to have to deal with your siblings’ endless teasing now.”

Elijah chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let them tease. As long as I have you by my side, I can endure anything.”

And with that, they stayed on the balcony, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment, two souls finally finding their home in each other.

The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink as Elijah and Y/N walked hand in hand through the lavender field, surrounded by the fragrant flowers that had once been a playground for Elijah and his siblings when they were children. The field was a rare moment of peace for them both, far from the chaos of their supernatural lives.

Y/N gazed at the endless rows of purple, a soft smile on her face. "You know," she said, glancing at Elijah, "this place is beautiful. It's almost as if it holds the memories of your past... and all the times you've been forced to leave them behind."

Elijah squeezed her hand gently, his gaze softening. "It's more than just a place for me. It’s a reminder of simpler times, before our lives were filled with endless complications and heartache. But it’s better now, isn’t it? With you by my side."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at his words. She turned toward him, standing on tiptoe as she kissed his lips, slow and tender. They were both completely in their own world, the lavender scent mingling with the warmth between them.

When they pulled apart, Elijah looked into her eyes, searching, as though seeing her in a new light. "I don't think I've ever been as certain of anything in my life as I am of you."

Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "That’s a little dramatic, even for you, Elijah Mikaelson," she teased.

Elijah smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You think so? Because you make me want to be dramatic. You're worth it."

She laughed, her heart full. It was moments like this—just the two of them—that made her forget the tumultuous past and the storm that was always lingering. Elijah pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers.

"Promise me you’ll always be with me," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I already am," he replied softly, wrapping his arms around her. "And I will be for as long as you’ll have me."

Before they could get lost in each other further, Elijah’s phone rang, interrupting the moment. He glanced at it, his expression turning serious as he looked at the caller ID. Klaus. He dealt with the call. 

"We’ve been summoned to the Salvatore Boarding House. We need to head there. It seems that the Mystic Gang, as you refer to them, have landed themselves in a mess again."

Y/N sighed, her fingers still intertwined with his as she pulled away reluctantly. "Can’t we have just a few more minutes?" she asked, half-joking.

Elijah smiled, though the weight of their responsibilities always lingered. "As much as I would prefer to stay here, I’m afraid we have no choice."

The evening sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Salvatore Boarding House, casting warm, golden hues over the tension-filled room. The Mystic Gang—Damon and Stefan Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett, Caroline Forbes, and Elena Gilbert—sat scattered across the living room. Their expressions ranged from apprehension to outright frustration as they awaited the arrival of the Mikaelsons.

“They’re late,” Damon muttered, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Typical.”

“Maybe don’t insult them when they get here,” Bonnie warned. “We need their help, remember?”

Elena sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She hadn’t seen Y/N in months. The memory of their strained last encounter weighed on her, but she was determined to fix things—if Y/N would let her.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and in stepped Elijah Mikaelson, effortlessly poised in his tailored suit. At his side, hand entwined with his, was Y/N.

The room fell silent.

Y/N looked radiant, her smile soft but confident as she stepped into the space like she belonged there. Her gaze swept over the familiar faces, lingering momentarily on Elena before she looked away. The Mystic Gang, meanwhile, wore expressions ranging from stunned to incredulous.

“Y/N?” Caroline finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Surprise,” Y/N said dryly, raising an eyebrow. She gave a small wave, the corners of her lips twitching upward.

Jeremy stood there, eyes lighting up when he saw Y/N.

"Y/N!" Jeremy exclaimed, rushing forward and enveloping her in a bear hug. "I can't believe you're here! It's been way too long."

Y/N laughed softly, hugging him back. "I know, I know. It's been... a lot. But I’m here now."

The warmth and familiarity of her brother’s embrace made her feel grounded, even amidst the chaos. They pulled apart, and Y/N looked him over. "How have you been? Really?"

Jeremy gave her a small, sincere smile. "I've been good. Missed you, though. Things have been... complicated, you know? But it’s good to see you again."

Elijah watched the exchange with a quiet smile, though his hand found Y/N's, grounding her with a touch that said everything without words.

When Y/N turned to the others in the room, her gaze landed on Elena, who had been standing quietly off to the side, watching the reunion with a mix of uncertainty and hope. Slowly, Y/N approached her, eyes softening as she did.

"Hey, Elena," Y/N said, voice steady but warm. "How are you?"

Elena hesitated, her gaze flickering between Y/N and Elijah before she finally stepped forward. "I’m... I’m okay. Really. I just—I’ve been trying to reach you. I wanted to apologise for everything that happened, Y/N. I should’ve understood sooner... but I was too caught up in my own pain to see yours."

Y/N’s heart softened, but there was still a guardedness in her voice. "It’s not just about you, Elena. I know you’re sorry. But you still haven’t really understood why I had to leave, have you?"

Elena looked down, visibly pained. "I get it now, I do. It was never about me. It was about you needing space, needing to find yourself again. I wasn’t there when you needed me most."

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm but not unkind. "I know you’re trying, but it’s going to take time. I’ll speak to you when I’m ready, okay? It’s just... it’s hard. For both of us."

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Damon blurted out, his gaze bouncing between Y/N and Elijah. “You’re with him?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her sarcasm cutting through the room like a blade. “Hello to you too, Damon. Always such a charmer.”

Elijah placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back, his calm demeanour unshaken. “It’s lovely to see you all again,” he said, his voice smooth and composed. “I trust this reunion will be...productive.”

“Reunion?” Stefan echoed, his brow furrowed. “Wait, how long has this been going on?” He gestured between Elijah and Y/N.

“Long enough,” Y/N replied, her tone sharp yet unapologetic. She glanced up at Elijah, her expression softening instantly. “And if you’re wondering, yes, we’re very happy.”

Bonnie’s eyes darted to the engagement ring glittering on Y/N’s hand. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, holding up her hand briefly, smiling. Jeremy hugged Y/N again congratulating her. 

Klaus entered the room then, with Kol and Rebekah trailing behind him. “Ah, the gang’s all here,” Klaus drawled, his smirk firmly in place. “I see you’ve all met my future sister-in-law. Delightful, isn’t she?”

Y/N shot him a mock glare. “Don’t start, Klaus.”

“Who, me?” Klaus said innocently, earning a snicker from Kol and an exasperated sigh from Rebekah.

Damon looked at Klaus, his irritation bubbling over. “How does she put up with you? Or any of you?”

“Patience,” Y/N said with a smirk, settling into a chair with Elijah gracefully taking the seat beside her. “You’d be amazed what it can achieve.”

Klaus chuckled. “And yet you somehow tolerate this lot,” he gestured to the Mystic Gang, “despite their...endearing flaws.”

Bonnie shot Klaus a warning look, cutting in before the conversation could devolve further. “Alright, enough. We need to talk about the threat we called you here for.”

As the discussion shifted to the supernatural danger facing Mystic Falls, Y/N listened intently, her hand still resting in Elijah’s. Occasionally, their gazes would meet, and the shared warmth between them was impossible to ignore—even to those who didn’t want to see it.

Elena’s eyes lingered on her sister throughout the meeting, noting the quiet strength and happiness radiating from her. It was a version of Y/N she hadn’t seen in years, and it left her both awed and uneasy.

By the time the meeting ended, it was clear that Y/N’s allegiance—and her heart—firmly belonged to the Mikaelsons. And while the Mystic Gang grappled with their shifting dynamics, Y/N couldn’t have cared less.

As she and Elijah left the Salvatore Boarding House that evening, his hand rested lightly at the small of her back, their love palpable in every touch, every glance. For Y/N, it wasn’t just about finding a new family—it was about building a future with the man who had shown her a love she never thought she deserved.

(Gifs credits goes to the rightful owners)

~Tags~

~The Last Goodbye:

@thefandomplace

@a--1--1--3

@misselsbells06

~The Vampire Diaries/The Originals & Supernatural:

@akshi8278

~The Vampire Diaries:

@sparklesmolwarriorprincess

[miyamiwu]

Rewriting what I said in the VeiFei server to be more coherent, but here’s how I think the Yingdu Finale will go: It has to end in a Cathartic way. Not just Shocking. Not just Tragic. Cathartic.

I’m not gonna try to predict what is gonna happen because Link Click can always manage to shock us in new ways. But as a writing major, I can at least look at the writing techniques Yingdu have used so far and infer through it how the story can be best resolved.

And one thing that really strikes me about Yingdu is that, unlike S1 and S2, its fan service is blatant and aplenty. This is not necessarily Bad, but the pattern I’m seeing in Yingdu—but isn’t present in S1 and S2—is that all of its characters must undergo an “Awesome” moment. It’s not enough for the scenes to simply serve the plot and the themes. It must also be Cool, Peak, Emotionally Satisfying—whatever you call it.

It seems the goal in Yingdu is to instill in the viewer Strong Emotions. It’s not really about giving us all the clues and making us figure out the mysteries. (Remember all those complaints about Yingdu being full of “fillers” and having “no plot”? This may be why.) Yingdu has never been about the What—because we already know CXS dies—but the How—how hard can they make our hearts break?

Now, what do I mean by an Awesome moment? Here are some examples:

Cheng Xiaoshi threatening to hurt Vivian if she hurts Lu Guang

Qiao Ling dramatically telling Cheng Xiaoshi that it was his mom who doesn’t want him to go

Liu Xiao pointing the gun at Xiang and turning the game on him

Xia Fei whining on the phone, but moments later tells his haters a big “Fuck you”

Vein’s hype entrance at the end of YE3

Vein stopping that stone from hitting Xia Fei before proceeding to obliterate everyone in YE4

Cheng Xiaoshi, as Wang Qing, yelling at his dad and putting him in place

All these moments can be considered Awesome. It makes you feel “Yes!” It makes you wanna clench your fist and pull it down in excitement or triumph.

Since episode 1, the characters’ Awesome levels have been steadily rising. So for Yingdu to end in any satisfying way, they have to maintain or exceed those. No character should be Less Awesome by the end because that would instill a lot of negative feelings in the viewer.

Another way of putting this is that… Yingdu has constantly rewarded the viewer in an emotional sense, so by the finale our emotions would be at an all-time high. All of that emotion needs to be released, and since it’s the last episode they only have one chance to do it. There is no time for Yingdu to gently let us down by decreasing the characters’ Awesome levels first, so the remaining option is to either make them peak or let them go out in a blaze of glory. But whatever they choose to do, they must never, never drop the ball on any one of them.

That would inspire resentment.

Like, imagine that infuriating feeling you get when you read a story that could’ve been so good if it was just written a little differently, but there’s nothing you could do but lament its potential. No writer would want their audience to feel such a thing. Yingdu has to avoid that effect at all costs—which would be difficult because of the Awesome levels they’ve allowed to increase in a linear fashion. They’re already at the highest, so falling down would be even more dangerous.

To reiterate, the Yingdu Ending has to be Cathartic, and no character should be left as Less than how they started.

(However, this does not apply to Lu Guang because… well, he’s going through the terrors. But I reckon he will at least finally have his own Awesome moment in the finale for it to also count as Satisfying.)

[desert--moonchild]

Rules: Either: choose one of your published fics (or a WIP if you'd prefer), create a moodboard for it and share it along with a snippet. Or: Create a moodboard for your fave episode of the show, fave character, or a fic someone else has written that you love, and share it with some sentences about why it's a fave! (and tag people!)

tagged by: @bangpop91 and @unhingedangstaddict 🤍🤍

i wanna chase every high with you (otherwise known as my beloved storm chaser au)

with a snip of the fortune cookie scene from chapter 6

“What’s your fortune say!” Evan asked, nearly cracking the cookie into pieces in his excitement as he shoved it towards Tommy, all while trying to open his own.

Tommy chuckled at his antics and took the cookie, carefully opening the wrapper and cracking it in half to get to the little piece of paper inside. He blinked down at the words and back up at Evan before glancing back down at the fortune.

“What does it say?” Evan asked, eyes wide and curious.

Tommy coughed slightly to clear his throat. “It says, your next great adventure is right in front of you.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Evan grinned. “I like that, but you’re already on a great adventure!” He teased and tossed the paper from his own fortune on the tray between them. “Mine just says, you bring others joy. Which is great, but it’s not a fortune at all.” He pouted and took a sip of his drink.

It wasn’t a fortune, but it was the truth, Tommy thought. Evan certainly brought him joy. He looked back down at the little scrap of paper in his hand. Your next great adventure is right in front of you.

He looked back up at Evan who forgot his pouting and dove back into his fried rice, smiling up at him when he noticed Tommy staring. A piece of rice was stuck to the corner of his mouth and his nose scrunched up with his smile.

There was a feeling growing in his chest that used to scare him once upon a time— but with Evan in front of him smiling at Tommy like that, he couldn’t find it in himself to be afraid. He slid the paper into his pocket when Evan wasn’t looking.

He didn’t put a whole lot of stock into these sorts of things, they never turned out to be true, but maybe this one would after all. 

np tags for some lovelies (i haven’t been on much lately so sorry if you’ve already been tagged and i missed it) @livelaughlou @laundryandtaxesworld @rdng1230 @jacki-daytona @cliophilyra