#speaking of - beloved mutuals!!! how have you been

[each-time-again]

wow this show really goes out of its way to show the audience that Paddy is gay and deeply in love with Eoin and damaged irreparably by his passing (as opposed to explicitly telling us, i imagine to give them plausible deniability when they’re accused of defaming recently deceased, celebrated war heroes beloved by uptight conservative military historians). and they do it consistently, from episode to episode, even having Eoin haunt the narrative long after he has died - but so much of the heterosexual audience on non-Tumblr social media will say either they didn’t “get that vibe at all” or that there’s no reason to assume it was more than friendship.

like putting my gay indignation aside completely, how dense and cinema illiterate do you have to be to completely miss or misinterpret established run-of-the-mill cinematic techniques meant to convey romantic attachment or attraction? in regards to the cinematography and visual/audio storytelling, what could possibly surpass the depiction of romance as the filmmakers’ primary objective when they chose to zoom in on Paddy’s hand resting on Eoin and then leave the camera there for a long and intimate moment as they play a famously longing, romantic composition together on the piano, looking emotionally and physically insular and private despite the presence of the other men around the hall? the men, whose raucous banter has been muted. in a scene that would otherwise serve no purpose to the narrative (actually, it laid the foundation for a frequently revisited metaphor symbolizing Paddy’s inability to move on and desperation to feel a connection to Eoin again).

and then to repeat the touch/camera zoom technique again, in the very next episode! in a deeply romantic moment where Eoin makes it clear that his direction in life is entirely dictated by Paddy and where Paddy goes. we don’t get the impression that they have ever made the nature of their love explicitly clear to each other; we do, however, get the impression that they are life partners and soul mates who are mutually aware that they’ve dedicated themselves to each other. maintaining their relationship in this way might be the most practical method in their current circumstances - their relationship is physically unconsummated, but they have figured out how to maintain each other in their day-to-day lives in an emotionally consummate way that doesn’t risk the notice of those with the capacity to punish, hurt, and separate them, and restrict their freedom.

okay now reeling the gay indignation back in, the straight viewers who argue that there is nothing inherently romantic about a hand on a shoulder/that not showing anything more explicit means that “the writers are leaving it up to the audience” to decide if it’s friendship or romance are dicks for refusing to consider it within context or even ask why a romantic attachment might manifest itself in such brief and seemingly trivial touches.

what types of touches do they genuinely think would occur between two men harboring romantic affection for each other, when the entire lives of those two men are spent in a hyper-macho, violent environment that is hostile towards sentimentality, and legally and socially punitive of homosexuality? in their current circumstances they are unable to achieve the safety that would be afforded to them by a genuinely private physical space where they could be transparent about their feelings and motivations. they are never alone, so they enact touches in ways that would be perceived as commonplace camaraderie by an observer who doesn’t know to look closer, and literally speaking that is what is happening. meanwhile, the actors are tasked with the feat of minutely conveying a longing that the characters have kept hidden even from each other in the interest of self-preservation and preservation of the other; but the actors have to be even subtler than subtle, so that it doesn’t become unrealistic or compromising to the characters given the precariousness of their situation.

with those limitations always in place, it becomes necessary for the camerawork and music choices to convey that meaning for the audience in ways that the characters literally cannot. you need to give this touch between them its due attention, and consider the emotions that informed it and resulted from it: longing, desire, tenderness, pleasure and comfort in each other’s presence, revitalization. hopefully from there the viewer could surmise that Eoin and Paddy have adapted common rituals to their own needs in order to satiate a hunger inside them that (most of) the other men don’t have.

e.g.,

insisting that he let me teach him to play the piano will put him in close proximity again and again, and when he leans over and around me i can try to feel the warmth of his body hanging close, and sometimes i might even get to feel the direct heat of a hand placed on my shoulder. / he’s teaching me to play but i’ll hover with my drink over the piano and him below me, so that when it comes time for me to repeat his movements, i might be able to lean in close enough that i can discern the pattern of his breathing or the smell of his hair / when i touch him, he never looks me in the eye, but it doesn’t upset me, because i can feel how deeply the rest of his body welcomes it. it thrills me to know that there’s no other person on this earth that he would permit to touch him like this. / if i perform this drill remarkably or outlandishly enough, the men will clap and holler and i know then Eoin will come and put his arm around my shoulder, and an arm around the shoulder is nearly an embrace.

[girls-and-honey]

okay launching myself back into tumblr so it's officially tumblr party night (it's actually not official at all I just made it up but we can pretend. also it's not actually night here yet so... soon it will be tumblr party night). what's tumblr party night?

stalk all my beloved mutuals and see how everyone's been doing, respond to some asks and messages, clean up my drafts and revitalize my queue, and get that sweet sweet dopamine from remembering what my dash looks like and seeing all sorts of cool pretty devastating interesting peculiar relatable mesmerizing etc etc you get it type things

[jaehaeryshater]

The Day Viserys Sold Rhaella’s Crown

Viserys and Daenerys by @nautieval, beloved oomfie

Just like all my other comm ideas, this has been something I have been sitting on for quite a while now. This one I’ve had on my mind since October, if I remember correctly. The thing is, I am so particular and mindful with the art I commission. Everyone I work with is incredibly talented and I appreciate all of them; I am simply of the opinion that different styles that I have in mind work better with some people and everyone works best with different characters, usually characters that they have a passion for. So I’ve been looking for someone that does Targaryens and depicts child characters in a way that speaks to me. Finally, I found Shep, who also did an infant version of my OC Bael Whitewolf back in January. He did a phenomenal job with that, and I think you all will agree that he did a phenomenal job here as well. Since this piece is portraying children, I love the feel of something more storybook-esque and more vibrant in color. This is perfect, in my opinion. Shep is my mutual on twitter and I adore him so I’m hoping everyone checks out his other work as well.

What’s always bothered me has been the lack of people talking about Viserys and Daenerys’s life before the events of AGOT and how things are from his perspective. This is understandable because there aren’t as many details on it as we get in the main storyline. Viserys also turns out to be an abuser so people do not wish to make excuses for him, I do not blame them. I merely think understanding him is important to who Daenerys becomes as a character and how she has thus far avoided becoming who he became, even when met with great hardship. It is not my belief that Viserys was born “mad” or from some kind of Targaryen curse, I think he broke under pressure and trauma. That does not excuse him, all it means is that is not evidence that Daenerys is l genetically predisposed to madness. I am also of the belief that Viserys loved her and that she did not lack for love as a small child, only the amount of people she could go to for that love. That created an immense trauma bond between the two of them. Further, I don’t think he ever lapsed in love of her, but his abuse of her lapsed any relevancy of that love. He probably did plan on her eventually joining her in Westeros because I don’t think he would fare well being without her for long, but I don’t think he had much of a plan beyond that because he is not a sane person.

It is said Viserys lost joy and his sanity when he sold his mother’s crown in order to keep him and Daenerys fed. I can totally see that. Viserys remembers his family and how they were taken from him, which left him with the responsibility of Daenerys. He had Willam Darry at first, but when he died, he was forced to be a sole caregiver very young (and had had the burden of an emotional and probably to some extent physical caregiver for her even before then). Viserys taught Daenerys what he knew and seemed to take his responsibility somewhat seriously for a time. It was most likely very humiliating and traumatic to have to go from Free City to Free City, begging people to house and feed him and his sister. He’s at the will of these powerful men and they all eventually abandon him and he will have to start over, he’s fully aware of that. Selling Rhaella’s crown to keep Daenerys fed was giving up the memory of his family, he has nothing left (and yet, he agrees to give Daenerys up, whether he thought it would be long term or not, later on). That, to me, was probably the tipping point of him breaking down mentally.

All that to say, here he is, playing with Daenerys the evening after he sold Rhaella’s crown. He’s still at this point making an attempt to shield Daenerys from trauma and keep her happy, but his eyes are empty and in time, he will descend into cruelty and abuse towards her. For now he’s fighting it. She is unaware of what’s going on because she is young, which probably is frustrating to him. By the time she’s his age, she will know much too well the cruelty of the world. They are currently seeking shelter in an abandoned building while they await the next ship to come to port to take them to the next Free City. It was important to me to show he wasn’t all there and that Daenerys is just trying to play and be happy. It shows a childlike ignorance of what is to come, not knowing that this familial love, for what it is, is not to persist for long.

I hope it did not come across that I am romanticizing or excusing Viserys’s actions, that is the furthest thing from my mind. I just think his relationship with Daenerys is fascinating.

Here are some other version for you guys. I did get full render at first, but I preferred it with less detail, I found. I’m sure there will be others that enjoy the full render more. My endless thanks to @nautieval for doing this for me.

[beloveds-embrace]

☕ anon here

Hear me out. Quiet duchess with highly specialized interests that she can't shut up about. Maybe Kyle or Simon accompanies her on a walk outside and she spots a butterfly species like the black swallowtail and starts yapping happily about how the bright colors are supposed to help ward off predators or something, and how to tell the difference between male and female. And then goes on to talk about the differences between butterflies and moths, how they're all lepidopterans but vastly different, etc. And they're just absolutely SHOCKED about how much information spews out of duchess because it's the most excited anyone has ever seen her, to the point of almost concern.

It doesn't even have to be insects like that, it could be plants. Or jewelry. Gems and minerals. Or maybe even a big oral essay on her favorite character from a book series and why they're her favorite character because of XYZ intricacies. Hyper invested duchess my beloved 💖

YES YES YES YES

It had started as a quiet walk. Simon wasn’t much for conversation, and you had always been comfortable in silence. It was a mutually agreeable arrangement- one that allowed you both to enjoy the crisp morning air without the exhausting expectation of small talk.

And then you saw the butterfly.

It had fluttered past, landing delicately on a nearby shrub, its vibrant wings a striking contrast against the greenery. Without thinking, you had stepped forward, tilting your head as you observed it with growing excitement.

“Oh!”

Simon barely had a moment to register the shift before words- so many words- came spilling out of you.

“That’s a Red Admiral! You can tell by the bright orange bands along the wings- see? They’re warning colors, meant to deter predators. Some butterflies mimic toxic species for protection, but these ones are actually unpalatable to birds!”

Simon blinked.

You turned to him suddenly, eyes bright, gesturing toward the butterfly with enthusiasm he had never seen from you before.

“Did you know you can tell the difference between males and females just by looking at their forewings? Males have these little scent scales they use to attract mates- oh! And butterflies and moths, even though they’re both lepidopterans, are so different! Butterflies have clubbed antennae, while moths have feathery or filamentous ones! And their resting positions- moths keep their wings flat or tented, but butterflies close theirs!”

You were still talking- excitedly- and Simon was still staring.

Not because he wasn’t interested. No, he was listening, genuinely- but mostly because he had never seen you like this before.

Ever.

Their quiet, reserved duchess- the same woman who could sit in silence for hours, who struggled to speak even a handful of words in company- was rattling off information faster than he could process.

And you were beaming.

Simon had seen many things in his life. He had braved battlefields, faced horrors beyond reckoning. But this was entirely foreign to him.

He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

So, he did what he could.

“You like butterflies, then, Duchess?” He rumbled, still watching you as though you had sprouted wings yourself. The prettiest, loveliest of wings.

You paused, your excitement faltering slightly, as if only just realizing how much you had said. You folded your hands together, gaze lowering, a hint of shyness creeping back into your posture.

“I… yes,” you admitted, quieter now. “I like entomology in general, but butterflies are… lovely, aren’t they?”

Simon exhaled through his nose, a huff of something like amusement.

“Yeah, love,” he murmured, glancing at the butterfly still perched nearby, and then glancing right back at you. “They are.”

He didn’t need to say the rest of his words, and you pretended like you couldn’t feel the warmth creeping up your neck.

[sky-scribbles]

Next up on Things I Liked About Veilguard: the faction leaders. We all know some of the factions and their NPCs did not get anything like the amount of content and character that others did (Strife and Irelin I'm so sorry, I still love you), but sometimes I take a step back and realise how wonderful the stuff we did get was.

I mean - Evka and Antoine. Everything about them is so heartfelt. I hadn't read the supplemental material, but they barely needed to interact before I understood why this sweet, smart guy and this tough, smart woman loved each other. They affirm each other constantly. They respect each other so deeply. They have written letters for the other to take to their Callings: a cipher only Antoine could read. Je t'aime. Je t'aimerai toujours.

I love how Myrna and Vorgoth are introduced, suddenly and unsettlingly there in the Lighthouse. I love Vorgoth speaking in all caps. I love the fact that nobody knows what they are. I love that they raised baby Ingellvar. I love how Myrna is calm and polished while every so often coming out with the absolute wildest shit. They're fun.

The Viper and Tarquin? Top tier. They might be my favourites, just because of how much they have going on. Each of them has a backstory, and you can see exactly how those backstories produced their personalities. Ashur has a secret identity you can piece together from notes and codexes (and it's the funniest identity possible). I love their argument over Ashur's paranoid investigation into Tarquin, because it shows that the world goes on when Rook is not in the room, and the NPCs have relationships that go through ups and downs.

I'm mildly insane over the level of devotion, with Tarquin's desperate letters to the Wardens if Ashur is blighted, begging for a cure Ashur won't take. Him standing over Ashur to defend him in the final mission, or else his devastating reaction if Ashur dies: 'It should have been me!' God, these NPCs are alive. (fun fact: I wrote most of this post, and then Sheryl Chee confirmed these two were written as being in love with each other and stupid about it. I'm so happy.)

Speaking of NPCs who love each other: Teia and Viago, my beloveds. Again, I was coming in without the supplemental material, and I was sold on them so fast. The way Viago tenderly cradles Teia from behind as they mourn Caterina. The way they're so involved in Lucanis's personal quests - they're his family, they're there for him, they love him. I love Teia's fierceness and her heart. I love their banter - so much mutual understanding, exasperation and affection mixed together. 'We know each other too well to be strangers.'

Isabela is as wonderful as she always is - I especially appreciate how her depiction in Veilguard makes it clear just how loving she is. But can we also talk about Rowan? (I don't know if she's technically considered a faction leader, but meh.) I love her poetic speech patterns; I love that she's a scholar who wrote a bunch of codex entires; I love her calm, soothing voice. I love getting to see a Rivani Seer at last. And I love how she'll suddenly turn around and say, still calm and soothing, 'Spirit of Determination: may your enemies die bitter and in pain.' Perfect, no notes.

Strife and Irelin, sadly, drew the shortest straw when it came to being fleshed out in-game. But what I do love about them is their relationships with your companions. I love the tiny detail of Irelin, Bellara's ex, helping her pack for the Lighthouse; I love how she writes to Bellara to beg her to take care of herself, because she still matters to her.

And while I am a profound Emmrook lover, I appreciate Emmrich/Strife so much too. I love their shared curiosity and sense of adventure; I love thinking that Emmrich might give Strife tenderness that his life has lacked, while Strife could help nudge Emmrich toward boldness. I love the idea of two older men who likely think love has passed them by suddenly going, oh. If the Veil Jumpers didn't get a deeper relationship with Rook, at least they got relationships with Rook's friends.

Dragon Age games always give us a fun roster of companions, but honestly? Veilguard got me invested in the non-companion NPCs more than any other game in the series. Yes, there should have been more - but what we got was so much fun.

tl;dr: Faction leaders, my beloveds.

[quarterlifekitty]

am so late but medieval fantasy with arranged marriage/wrong bride trope and a "supposedly" cold duke who found out that their wife/partner's family is toxic and how DARE they make their beloved life's hell aaaaa

I LOVE the trope of like arranged marriage to super fucking scary guy but then it’s actually soooo easy to get him pussywhipped. At first I thought of this for ghost but PSYCH you ghost hoes because it’s Nikolai time tbh

cw: arranged marriage, allusions to abuse

Duke Nikolai is getting married, so it is whispered, purely for two reasons: legitimacy and heirs. He’s known far and wide for some less than savory reasons, and he was not born into nobility— his service to the kingdom has seen him be granted wealth and land quickly. While a marriage to him would grant greater wealth and stability, it would be considered something akin to social suicide.

Enter you, a lady of noble birth and some small renown. Only child of a rapidly declining house, finding you a match is the only way to save your family from complete destitution.

You have had a weak constitution for most of your life, and as such have lived in isolation. You’ve received almost no socialization, a cowering thing with no poise or dignity to speak of. You are, in a word, unmarriageable by noble standards.

It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement born from desperation on both sides. You’re engaged without even having met, your first meeting at the altar. Your handmaiden tries not to cry as she prepares you to wed the dark head of such an unsavory house— she’s heard every rumor, and fears for what will happen when she can no longer accompany you.

Nikolai cannot help but be amused by how you tremble against his hold. He sees you as a frightened doe. At the reception, he pulls you into his lap and rubs a thumb into your hip as he holds you, settling your frayed nerves.

The trend continues in your wedding bed when he keeps your back to his chest and has you come apart on his fingers before giving you his tongue, despite your protests about properness. But that’s what happens when you marry an uncouth commoner who’s made a name for himself in brothels across the continent instead of some high-born pup who’d be content to have you bleed on his sheets for the three minutes it would take him to cum and fall asleep.

Before, Nikolai saw this marriage as a union in name only. You’d have your dalliances with whatever stableboy or neighboring lord you pleased, while he chased the skirts of maids and tavern women. But when he has you tucked against him that first night, he gets the strange feeling that the bond you’re forging is one that can’t be traded or ignored. That there’s something to this… matrimony thing.

You’re still a bit fearful of him. He understands. You’ve been raised to think of your husband as the master, the one who decides your fate and keeps your bones unbroken as an act of generosity. But what he cannot stand is the flinching.

Your parents and teachers tried no small number of ways to try to make you an attractive, upstanding lady, you admitted— not angry at their methods, but ashamed at how they hadn’t worked. And he burned inside— a feeling not felt when a woman is your wife in name only.

Don’t worry, lanyashka. He has enough anger for the both of you.

[conjureher]

some clingy!tim drake for y'all! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ inspired by @sa1ntd1or's smau (definitely go check out her page, it's divine!) synopsis : rich kid and fat cat are fighting for your attention (it's brutal) 2.5k words | gen master.list

Timothy Jackson Drake has many enemies. It’s not unnatural for a guy in his position - that is, wandering around at night in red and black spandex - to have enemies, it’d actually be weirder if he didn’t. He’s fought countless villains, stopped a couple organizations from wrongdoing, and even had (and lost) a brutal fight with his younger brother. 

But nothing, and he means nothing, could be more evil than your beloved white tabby that you’ve affectionately named ‘Chunky.’

It’s not like he was trying to become mutual mortal enemies with your cat! As a matter of fact, he’d been trying to get along with the feline in hopes it’d make you fall even more in love with him. He’s always been relatively good with animals. So why is it that your cat has a special hatred for him? He’s not sure. 

THREE MONTHS AGO: FEBRUARY 14TH, A FRIDAY

“Okay, I swear you’re gonna love him!” you smile, taking your right hand from Tim’s so you can detach your keychain from your backpack, “He’s a total sweetheart! He loves everyone.”

Tim - whose previously free hands have now found the mini figurine attached to your bag zipper - is just as smiley as you are, "I hope so. I've never been so nervous to meet a cat of all things."

"Don't be nervous, it's just Chunky. He'll love you, and you'll love him," you reassure Tim with that voice he thinks is the most comforting. He loves it when you use that tone because for a moment he's actually convinced that everything will be alright. "It'd actually be kind of tragic if you didn't love each other. The two most important boys in my life hating each other, I'd be devastated.”

Finally unlocking your door, you take Tim’s hand in yours and push the door open ever so gently. “Chunky boy! Where are you silly?” you coo, your voice just a tad higher.

Tim waits expectantly, curiously peering over your shoulder hoping he can catch a glimpse of the esteemed kitty.

“Huh. He’s usually all over me as soon as the door opens,” you pull Tim in, dropping your keys into your little bowl full of trinkets, “Chunks?”

You shrug off your jacket and make Tim take off his shoes because he’s a heathen whose parents allowed him to run wild - not really.

Throwing your backpack onto your couch, you swivel your head in all sorts of directions hoping to catch a glimpse of Chunky. “I’m gonna look around for him. You can sit around the couch orrr help me."

"Nothing I love more than a good mystery," Tim says while checking under couch cushions - as if Chunky would be there. He's not trying to play - or so he says - he's just making sure he crosses off all possibilities.

You look in your room first. Chunky is always in your room, laying on your bed like he owns it or lounging on the carpet floor like he just got off of a 10-hour shift down at the factory. But, surprisingly, he's not there. He's not even in your closet or under your bed.

So, you get out your secret weapon: a cat feather toy you picked up for him when he was about 4 months old. It's his favorite toy that he can never resist, no matter how much of a grumpy mood he is in.

"Chunky!" You call, wiggling the cat toy just enough for it to make a little jingle noise - one that usually has him running to you for playtime. That's not the case this time. You don't even hear his little paws thumping on the ground, just silence and the sounds of Tim also looking for Chunky in the other room.

Speaking of Tim, you should see if he was lucky in his search for Chunky.

"Any sign of him?" You ask as you enter your living room, feathered toy still in hand.

"No. It should not be this hard to find a cat, man!" Tim sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe you should feed him, see if that gets him out."

You nod, making your way to the kitchen. "He doesn't just eat dry food, so that sound alone isn't gonna make him come out. He doesn't come running until he hears me drum my fingers against the counter," you explain as you open the lid of your dry food container and then open the can of wet food - both high-quality brands because Chunky is spoiled and when you tried cheaper alternatives he refused to eat.

Tim nods along with your explanation, looking genuinely interested in your feeding regimen. You know he'll commit your routine to memory, so you continue; making sure to add the reasons why you do certain things because you know Tim will spend the time he should be using to sleep to question why you did a particular thing.

It's not long before you finish making Chunky's dinner, setting the cat's orange food bowl down before finally drumming your fingers against the countertop. You and Tim listen for any movement with bated breath.

Your hard efforts are rewarded with the softest meow in the world - to you at least. To Tim, Chunky’s meow sounds scratchy, but what does he know? Perhaps we should consider the possibility that Tim’s ears haven’t been cleaned in a hot minute.

“Chunky baby!” you exclaim, crouching down to pet your very sleepy-looking cat. His fur is sticking up in all sorts of directions and his eyes are barely open but he walks ever so gracefully towards his feeding bowl.

Tim swears he’s never seen a cuter cat than Chunky, scratchy meow aside, Chunky in all his chubby glory is undeniably cute. “I can see why you named him Chunky,” Tim teases, crouching down just as you have to pet the glorious cat.

“Stop! You’re gonna give him body image issues. And then I’d have to get him a cat therapist - are those even real?” you question, not even stopping your petting motions, “Like the secret life of pets! Yes, he’ll get a cat therapist for his insecurities and it’ll be YOUR fault!”

Tim rolls his eyes. He’s well used to your ridiculous (and kind of charming) humor. It had confused him when you both first met, sometimes he wasn’t sure if your jokes were real worries or fake. But he’s come to enjoy them, even if they’re sometimes a bit too goofy.

Ignoring your jokes, Tim tries to pet Chunky just as you are; but something strange happens. Something you’ve never seen happen before.

Chunky hisses at Tim. His mouth is full of food so it’s not as intimidating, but it’s still a hiss.

The noise makes Tim immediately retract his hand. “Uhhh? Has he ever done that before?”

You’re just as surprised as Tim. Chunky has never hissed before. “No? He’s never done this before! Not with me or anyone else?!”

You motion for Tim to back away and he does as told, you’re quick to check if Chunky is injured anywhere or if anything is off about him (other than his hissing).

You deduce that he simply may not like Tim. Which is heartbreaking.

“I think he just doesn’t like you… Tragic,” you explain, calmly taking Tim’s hand into your own and tugging him towards your couch.

Tim is less calm about the situation than you are. Your previous statement about how devastated you would be if they didn’t like each other had been occupying his mind since Chunky had hissed at him.

Before you knew it, Tim had gone down a spiral and began thinking about all of the terrible outcomes that came with him and Chunky not getting along: the absolute worst being you breaking up with him.

“Wallace and Gromit is a classic but Howl’s Moving Castle is entic-“ “Are you gonna break up with me?” Tim interrupts, a special sort of fear in his voice and a frantic look in his eyes.

“No? What makes you think that,” you ask, wildly confused as to what made Tim think otherwise.

“You- You said earlier that you’d be devastated! Now we both know your cat doesn’t like me and I’m just- I’m freaking out,” Tim blurts out.

It takes you a moment to process his words but when you do you laugh, just a little bit, a lot actually. The action confuses Tim, he's not sure why the possibility of you both breaking up is so funny.

“Tim- you...! You didn’t actually believe me, did you?” you laugh, clutching your stomach in hopes to lessen the pain you're receiving from laughing too much.

"Yes? I mean! You have been making this a huge deal for the past few months, of course, I'd be led to believe that!" Tim defends himself.

It takes you a while to calm down from your laughing fit, but when you do, you're quick to quell Tim's worries. "I'd never break up with you over something so silly. Like, yeah, I care about the people I love liking each other, but I don't think I'd break up with you if Chunky didn't like you," you say as you hug Tim, hoping the gesture is calming - it is, but Tim won't admit that.

"You're stuck with me forever," you tease.

"Thank god," Tim groans, stuffing his face into the crook of your neck.

You know, Tim really wouldn't mind being in your presence for the rest of his life. He's lost so many people, it'd be nice to experience something more infinite, and permanent instead of abandonment. He's glad he can spend something so finite as life with you.

Tim is not a man prone to jealousy. Well, unless it’s you, then yeah he’s gonna get a little jealous.

Not important! What is important, however, is how you’ve not even glanced at him this entire evening!

Your attention is being hogged by your devil cat! And Tim swears Chunky knows what he’s doing.

Don’t think he didn’t catch that sly smile Chunky had on when he’d first successfully taken your attention off of Tim. And the countless other times Tim has caught Chunky wearing smiles that scream two words: “I win.” Tim has seen Chunky staring off into space with a facial expression that shouts "I am up to no good and it's Tim Drake's fault," more times than he can realistically count. That last offense is less likely to be used as proof because, well, what if Chunky just has an unintentionally mischievous looking face when he's paying attention to nothing in particular? He knows a few people like that... He can't say much.

Tim is not crazy - he has papers to prove it! So, Timothy Jackson Drake, a completely sane man, can confidently say that he and your cat are in a mutual metaphorical fight for your undivided attention.

And he’s kind of losing.

“You’re cuddling that cat more than me!” Tim whines from his spot on the couch, which, realistically, isn’t that far from you, but to Tim, it feels like he’s light years away, “This is betrayal at its finest!”

“Not even,” you giggle, not even glancing at him because you’re too busy squishing your cat.

“Look!” you push Chunks into Tim’s face, “he meows!”

As if on cue, Chunky lets out the sweetest meow that’d charm even the hardest of criminals, but not Tim. “Awww my little baby,” you smile, pulling the cat into a hug that Tim should be experiencing, not Chunky.

And Tim scoffs. He can’t believe this; his partner is being STOLEN by a cat in real time! He cannot let this happen. He’s worked too hard for too long to woo you into a relationship!

He cannot be bested by a cat. So, he does the thing he’s best at: flirting — or, well, attempts at flirting that someone not in love would think are a bit deranged and desperate. Perfect for Tim because he is, in fact, deranged and desperate and you, perfect you, encourage his weirdness.

“I can meow too!.. if it gets your attention,” Tim says, smoothly removing Chunky from your lap to the floor and taking what once was the cat’s spot on your chest.

“Please don’t,” you cringe, running your hands through Tim’s hair. You swear you can hear Tim start purring as you scratch his scalp, fingers nimbly gliding over his head.

“Just say you hate me and want me to die.”

“You’re literally on top of me right now,. I don’t grant that privilege to just anyone.”

“Good,” Tim hums.

You know, Death Cat aside, Tim thinks you guys will be okay. Scratch that. More than “okay.” You’ll be the best couple ever.

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ bonus material ruh roh

"Chunky, please. Please, man, I'm begging you! Please Chunky bro."

"mrow."

"Chunky, I've had a long night and all I wanna do is sleep NEXT to MY partner!" Tim whines, his voice barely above a whisper.

You're sound asleep with Chunky lying beside you - in Tim's spot, where Tim sleeps almost every night - and the damned cat is showing zero signs of moving within the next 10 minutes.

"Chunky, man please! I'm tired, you're tired, we're both freaking tired so just let me lay down," Tim says as he makes lazy attempts to scoot Chunks more towards your side; his attempts are met with less-than-lazy clawed swats.

"Fine! You win, you devil cat."

—

You awoke to the familiar screech of your cat begging for his morning meal and the lack of weight on your boyfriend's side of the bed. "Chunky baby... gimme a moment."

Chunky screaming means it's about 6:00 a.m., which means it must've been about 2 hours since Tim got back. You feel around your bedsheets and blankets for the aforementioned boy but you're unlucky in your pursuit.

So, you get up; eyes a little blurry and mind still jumbled from a post-sleep haze. "Tim?" you call, voice groggy and a tad deeper than it usually is.

"'m over here honey," Tim groans, "Chunky didn't let me on the bed"

The sentence wakes you up immediately. "What?" Shoving off your blankets and shuffling over to his side of the bed - or his side of the floor, really.

"Awww Tim! You didn't have to sleep on the floor," you giggle, "You could've just moved him!"

"He's too fat," Tim says with the most deadpan voice he can muster, the one he knows makes you giggle because he's being ridiculously serious.

You gasp, holding your hand to your chest like Tim's statement was a serious offense (it kind of was). "He is NOT fat! He's just... a bit chubby!"

Tim snorts, "You keep telling yourself that. Can I sleep on my bed now?"

"Uh uh, mister! You've committed a serious offense! I ought to call Batman over here and arrest you himself, criminal!" You tease, wagging your finger in Tim's face.

"Ohhh I'm so scared," Tim laughs, pulling you into the sweetest kiss ever. Before you even know it, he's already on the bed and you're both practically glued to each other. Not even Chunky could get you two to separate - mostly because you were both sleepy.

It's moments like these that make you realize that you really really love your boyfriend.

"You know, Chunky still hasn't been fed."

"He can wait a bit, can't he?"

SAM SPEAKS : first fic... ruh roh. i got carried away. ts was supposed to be only 300 words MAX 😭🙏. most of this fic is just me describing how i feed my cats, and how i act with my cats. yes, i do drum my fingers against a surface before i feed them (usually the lid of the box we keep the dry food in). anyways i've been wildly distracted lately by pictures of borzoi's. freaky looking dogs, but i love them so so much. ﹗I do not consent to my work being translated or reposted on any other accounts or websites. thank you for understanding <3

[aventurineswife]

Feeling romantic, eh? Well it has been a little while since I welcomed myself to your inbox and have returned with love. But not just that! A request as well. Rather than my series of flowers, I think it's time for music.

"The Legend Of The Blue Eyes" - Anaxa x Astrologist! Reader

This is a series that I think has music that may... inspire you. It will be your only prompt to go off of besides the reader being an Astrologist as well as an Astronomer. Fluff, Angst- It matters not. These will be targeted towards Anaxa, and he alone. Enjoy, ma amour. (This is totally not an idea I had but haven't had the confidence to write. So, you'll enjoy this dynamic I'm sure.)

“If the Gods Fall, Let the Stars Remember Me”

Summary: In a world governed by celestial fate and divine tyranny, you—a battle-scarred astrologist—find yourself slowly unraveling under the weight of your past and the growing pull of an eccentric scholar who dares to challenge the gods. As Anaxagoras pursues truth with reckless brilliance, and you shield your beloved ward with fierce devotion, an unlikely intimacy forms between you—one forged through shared loss, quiet defiance, and the fragile hope that love, too, might be written in the stars.

Tags: Anaxa x Reader, Vanitas-inspired, Jeanne based Reader, Fluff & Angst, Found Family, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Experimental Love, Tragic Romance, Still Life Symbolism, Emotionally Vulnerable Characters, Forbidden Knowledge, Protective Reader, Scholar x Warrior/Astrologist Dynamic.

Warnings: Past abuse and trauma (enslavement, coercion), Death and grief, Self-worth issues, Emotional breakdowns, Mentions of physical violence and manipulation, Existential themes (mortality, gods, divine rebellion), Bittersweet/ambiguous ending, Use of his full name (because I don't want him to leave me alone).

A/N: So, I guess... This is the start of a new series?

Tagslist: @sewoui, @tremendoustragedybard, @axolotsofluv

The first time you met Anaxagoras, it was beneath the shattered remains of the Starfall Observatory. The sky was blistered with constellations long since banned from worship, and you had blood on your hands—though not your own.

You had your blade pressed against a noble's throat. He had mocked your ward. Called the child a "pet." The noble didn’t get the chance to say another word before you silenced him with a wordless snarl.

That was when he spoke. Not the noble. Anaxagoras.

"I see your stars have teeth. Fascinating."

You turned, startled by the unexpected guest standing in the rubble. He looked... odd. Pale skin, spectral hair draped over his shoulder like seaweed through moonlight, and eye like broken galaxies—pale aqua seared with magenta. A golden-patterned eyepatch gleamed over his left eye, and his smile held the weight of both satire and tragedy.

The child behind you tugged at your cloak.

"They hurt me," the child whispered. You nodded, and without a word, left the noble's body to the collapsing stars.

The second time was different.

You had just mapped the soulburst trail of an extinct comet, and Anaxa was sitting cross-legged on the table of your study, flipping through your star maps like one might flip through a scandalous novel.

"The way you chart the cosmos is so... emotional. Like you're writing poetry to the gods."

"And you're desecrating divine cadavers to prove they're mortal."

He grinned, utterly delighted. "We make a fine pair."

You hated how fast your cheeks flushed.

The third time, he found you sobbing.

Not because you were weak, but because someone had tricked you. Lied about the child’s safety. You had surrendered to the enemy, let yourself be chained and humiliated—all because you'd believed your ward had died screaming.

When the truth was revealed, you wanted to tear the liar's throat out.

But instead, Anaxa held you.

He didn't speak. Just let you scream into his shoulder until your voice cracked like brittle moonlight.

"If truth is pain," he whispered finally, "then you're the most honest person I've ever met."

You clung to him, shaking. Not from grief. From relief.

It became a ritual. You, the once-ruthless protector, reading the stars. Him, the foolish scholar, trying to dethrone them.

When he showed you his soul-seeing eye, you didn’t flinch. You simply asked, "What do you see when you look at me?"

He hesitated.

"I see a constellation too beautiful to name."

That night, under a burning aurora shaped like a shattered crown, you kissed him.

But love, to you, was dangerous.

You had never been allowed it before. You feared it. It made you reckless, vulnerable. You wanted to own it, dominate it, like a caged starmare longing to outrun the night.

You whispered things you shouldn't. Held him too tightly when nightmares seized you. Touched him when you shouldn't have, and cried afterward, convinced you'd ruined something sacred.

But he never looked away.

He never stopped coming back.

One night, he laid out an arrangement of vanitas symbols—wilted flowers, broken instruments, gold tarnished with acid.

"This," he said, gesturing at the still life, "is how the world sees me. A failed scholar, a madman. Disposable."

You knelt beside him and placed your hand over the crimson tattoo on his right.

"Then they're blind. Because I see someone who made me believe I was more than a weapon."

He swallowed. You had never seen him look so... small.

"Don't go tomorrow," you said.

"I have to. The experiment must be finished."

"You don't have to prove anything. Not to them. Not to the gods."

He turned to you, tears forming like stardust in his remaining eye.

"I'm not doing it for them. I'm doing it for you. For a future where people like you aren’t born in chains."

You broke that night.

And he held you as if he was the fragile one.

They never recovered the body. But your ward found a final letter, hidden in a hollow telescope.

"If the gods fall, may the stars remember me. And if I fail, let my ashes guide you home."

You etched those words onto a monument of shattered astrolabes.

You still watch the stars.

And every time you see a flicker of pale aqua and magenta dancing across the night sky, you smile.

You whisper, "Truth never dies."

And somewhere, through the veil of dead gods and broken prophecies, you know Anaxagorus hears you.

[Navigation]

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 04

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 8,5k

a/n: soo this took me forever but i hope there's still people that will enjoy this!! <3 this chapter picks up right where the previous one left off.

“For someone who claimed to want to talk, you’re not saying a whole lot.”

In the dim parking lot light, Hyunjin stares down at you with curiosity, arms crossed over his broad chest like a shield. You’re a few feet away from the car, and not as close as before, but somehow, you finally notice all of these fine details about him. There’s a faint bruise above his eye, the culprit, his silver eyebrow piercing shining with pride when the light hits it just right. His roots are growing in, pitch black and healthy, fighting against the bleach with all of their might. Muscle tape soothes the back of his neck, obscured by the long hair that serves as a curtain between him and the nosy world. The people who were just as nosy as you were currently being.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you hug yourself to keep warm before opening your mouth, eyes downcast. “Are you alright?”

Surprise flashes across his features, and you catch it just in time because the moment you raise your gaze, it’s gone.

“Look at me as you’re thinking of your next answer.”

He doesn’t, not even bothering to pretend he acknowledged what you just said.

“I’m fine.” Hyunjin sighs, letting his head fall back briefly like he needed to pull himself together to have this conversation. “As a matter of fact, I’m great! Never felt better!”

You can tell he’s lying from a mile away. Because while his words say one thing, his body language and everything else about him tell a different story. He doesn’t rest all his weight on both feet, crossing them at the ankles for better balance. If standing hurt this much, you couldn’t begin to imagine how executing one of his difficult choreographies would feel.

“I was worried about you.” You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to tell him everything you’ve rehearsed thousands of times while imagining this encounter. It’s hard because there are so many words and feelings currently fighting for dominance in your head, all longing for a chance to speak to him. Because every fiber of your being was aware of one thing – you might never get this opportunity again.

In response to your inner turmoil, Hyunjin scoffs and chuckles softly, like finding any humor in the matter takes a lot of effort. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Your eyes widen, puzzled.

“If you truly cared, you would have done more than send a flimsy ‘get well soon’ card.”

“I didn’t know!” You’re quick to defend yourself, panic and anger mingling as fear creeps in, terrified that his opinion of you might’ve changed quite drastically. “I had no idea you got injured until a few weeks ago! They all kept it from me, so don’t blame me for whatever shit Chris has been doing behind my back. I had no say in it.”

Hyunjin’s lips part but no words come out, stunning him into silence for the time being.

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” He eventually shakes his head, dismissing any rational thought that might’ve tried to help him make sense of your explanation. Instead of listening to his mind, Hyunjin chooses to listen to his wounded heart, which brings forth all of the anger and bitterness he’s been bottling up for months.

“Are you fucking serious?” But you do the same, your heart responding in kind as you step closer, all up in his face. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?” Hyunjin snaps, just as aggravated, dropping his arms and finally opening himself up to you. “What the fuck am I doing wrong now, Y/n?” He huffs, almost like a bomb ready to explode any second. His anger has only ever gotten the best of him one time in the past, clouding his judgment and ending your relationship on the spot.

Were you about to witness it take control of him again, before losing your own cool?

“Mean.” You throw your arms up, frustrated and on the verge of tears. “You’re being mean when all I did was express my concerns for you!”

In the quiet parking lot, your argument is loud enough for all of your neighbors to hear, including Seohyun and Felix, who were left all alone in Hyunjin’s car. Under normal circumstances, the thought alone would have you curl into yourself in shame, but right now, you couldn’t care less. Even if this conversation was quickly turning into something neither of you would be able to come back from, just like all of your fights in the past.

“Well, apparently it’s in my nature so I can’t fucking help it, remember?!” He bites back, unwilling to pay any close attention to the mess you were slowly but surely morphing into right before his eyes.

Oh, how you wish you didn’t, the accusation rushing into you at a speed that knocks the air out of your lungs harshly. Mean, selfish, and inconsiderate. They were all words you spoke with your own mouth a few months ago, during one of your unplanned, weekly argument sessions. Words meant to hurt him just as much as his distance and dismissal were hurting you, to cut deep and make him bleed.

You were now regretting them more than anything, wishing you could turn back time and smack the both of you over the head so you could stop fighting and realize how much the other cared. How much you cared about him and your relationship because you were unsure as to when Hyunjin stopped caring about you.

Flinching, you look away and step back, putting some much-needed distance between you.

“I’m sorry.” You manage to say, your anger subsiding.

Years ago, before Hyunjin began changing into this person you didn’t know, he was always the first one to apologize after a fight, not caring who was technically at fault. He had no issues stepping over his ego and rushing to you, wishing to make things right as soon as possible, resembling a kicked puppy who’ll follow his owner to the ends of the earth no matter how many times he got left behind, abandoned.

And you always forgave him. Hopefully, he’ll find it in his heart to do the same now.

Hyunjin just shrugs and looks away, but you catch a glimpse of unshed tears in his beautiful eyes that used to sparkle so brightly, putting all of your favorite constellations to shame.

With a tentative step in his direction, you add, the sound of your heart shattering making it hard for your thoughts to make themselves heard. “Had I known about what happened, I would have dropped everything to come and see you.” Then, your voice drops as you shallow, struggling to continue staring at him. “You know this.”

Hyunjin responds a little too quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t know anything.”

Your head falls, his unwillingness to meet you halfway hitting harder than before. It seemed that no matter what you chose to say, he’d vehemently deny it until the end, not finding it in himself to believe a word. His solitary quest of erasing you and all of your love filled memories was keeping him on the right path, immune to all of your heartbreak and despair.

“If that’s all.” He clears his throat, forcing himself to look in your direction as he trails off and stops messing with the ring on his index finger. A new one that replaced the simple, black ring you got him a few years ago, that was part of a couple set which matched with your white one. The ring you threw in your jewelry box, trying to hide from view, unable to look at for more than a few seconds at a time without tears welling up in your eyes.

Rings you both never took off, now abandoned in a dark corner of your rooms – out of sight and out of mind. They were a pair, only making sense together. Just like you and him have for years.

Does Hyunjin still have it? Does it haunt his dreams, jolting him awake once he realizes he hasn’t seen it in a while?

Or has he thrown it in the trash along with your relationship?

They weren’t particularly expensive, but you liked to believe their value came from what they represented. A token of love, priceless and so different from the other models who didn’t get to enjoy adorning Hyunjin’s slender finger.

“Good talk.”

You snap out of it the moment his back comes into view, and suddenly, you’re panicking like never before. The air doesn’t seem to reach your lungs anymore, yet your heart speeds up, the sight of him walking away, as painful as she remembered.

“Wait, Hyunjin!” You plead before your brain can process it, hurrying after him and reaching for his hand, trying to pull him back. To prevent him from disappearing again, like a fleeting memory you couldn’t hold on to as you wake up from a deep slumber.

But you’re not fast enough, your fingers only managing to brush against his and not grasp them entirely, falling short. This marks the second time he slips through your fingers, the second time you fail at keeping him in your life.

However, before you can drown in self-pity, Hyunjin startles you by turning around on his own accord, eyes wide.

“You’re freezing.” It’s not a question but a statement, one he confirms once he properly grasps your hand and approaches hurriedly. Without wasting a second, Hyunjin removes his red cardigan and drapes it over your shoulders, making quick work of the buttons to get you warm as soon as possible.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t register what’s happening until he’s at eye level, arms on full display as he’s left only in a black band t-shirt.

“I’m fine.” You try to wiggle your trapped arms, protesting. “Hyunjin, seriously! Take it back!”

But he doesn’t listen, as expected. “You shouldn’t have given your jacket away when it’s this cold out.”

“You’re one to talk?”

“I’ll be fine.” He dismisses your worries just as he reaches the last button of his fluffy cardigan. “You, on the other hand, get sick easily.”

When he pulls away, you see him cast an inspecting look over your form just as your arms slip into the baggy sleeves, nodding in satisfaction. “There, all better now.”

Your response comes as a whisper, a pathetic attempt at regaining your balance after the sudden turn this conversation has taken. “Is it really?”

The last thing you expected was for him to show you any type of compassion or be concerned after spending all of this time acting like you didn’t exist in his world, a big shadow that didn’t frighten him anymore, one he could walk past without any issues.

But the implication of your silly question isn’t lost on either of you, and as he looks away, preparing to flee again, your hands boldly latch themselves into his t-shirt to pull him back, almost closing the never-ending distance between your two bodies. “Please, don’t go.”

Hyunjin frowns, visible pain contorting his beautiful features in the most heartbreaking way that almost has you regretting your words. He’s speechless in front of the phrase he’s been wanting to hear roll down your tongue for so long, needing to see he means as much to you as you mean to him.

Or meant.

“Please stop shutting me out.” By this point, you’re begging, desperate to be seen and heard by the person who once was your entire world. “Let me be there for you again, your shoulder to cry on. You don’t have to bear all of this pain alone, Hyun.”

He inhales sharply, looking away like your words sting, touch the deepest part of his core that nobody in existence has ever managed to reach.

Now, in the dim parking lot light, you’re able to see all of him, the way his resolve breaks in the form of clear tears that rush to his eyes but don’t dare fall, held hostage behind the wall he’s built between him and the entire world.

“I don’t know how to.” His response is quiet, soft like the brush of a feather against your cheek, sign he’s barely willing to admit this weakness to himself.

You shake your head, unwilling to accept his reasoning. “Yes, you do. I know how much you hate when people worry about you but – “

“Then stop.” His interruption is harsh, almost as harsh as the storm currently taking place behind his lifeless eyes. “Stop worrying and leave me alone. It’s for the best.”

“How can you even think that?” Your hands drop down to find his own, hesitant in reaching out to hold them and settling for the way they briefly brush against each other, hoping some of your newfound warmth could soothe him.

“Because it’s true. I can’t seem to be able to do anything right, so it’s only fitting I stop trying.”

Hyunjin has always had such a positive outlook on life and everything around him, truly believing that as long as you didn’t give up, as long as you were a good person, good things will inevitably find you. Such words coming out of his mouth were made to sound like a foreign language he’s recently learned in your absence.

“Hyun…” Your hands flex, itching to share some of the comfort you were able to provide.

Eventually, his shoulders slump forward, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to steady his breathing, so dejected it almost brings you to tears. “I’m tired, Y/n.”

“So, so tired of everything and everyone wanting something from me. My time, my attention, my love, and energy. I don’t have anything else to give. I’m not capable of giving anymore.”

Even if they’re not meant to be one, considering his current state, his words do feel like a jab at your last conversation, the tantrum you threw that inevitably led to the end of your relationship. You’ve always wanted too much, expected everything. More of his time, attention, and a gram of the love he was busily pouring into other things and people who weren’t you.

But could you really be blamed? After spending all of these years as his top priority, his favorite person nobody could compare to, wasn’t it only natural to panic once his focus shifted to something else?

A relationship can only develop if both parties are equally involved, blooming and growing with the help of their love and affection for one another. But towards the end, you are the only one constantly giving your all and making sacrifices in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into your dying and withering relationship. You are stuck watching the love pour out from a hole you can’t find.

So, in this situation, who should be the one expressing how tired they were? How depleted they’ve felt for months on end, barely holding on to the lifeline their friends have kindly thrown out into the sea to keep them afloat?

“Then rest and reevaluate your priorities.” You mumble, actively feeling the way your heart is desperately trying to stitch itself back together. “You can’t be doing everything at once, Hyunjin.”

“I have been resting.” Hyunjin straightens, shoving one of his hands in the pocket of his baggy pants.

“Your body, sure.” You search for his gaze as your hand bravely embarks on a new journey, its destination unknown. “But what about your mind?” It settles over his chest, happy to feel him relax at the gentle touch. “What about your heart?” You point, poking his chest repeatedly right over the part of him you used to love with every fiber of your being.

It comes as a surprise when Hyunjin responds in kind, gently enveloping your hand in his to stop you. “I’m fine.” What causes your heart to stop beating momentarily is that he doesn’t let go.

You sigh, already exasperated at his excessive use of this infuriating phrase. “You’ve always been such a bad liar.”

Then, the unexpected happens. Hyunjin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners most endearingly. You used to kiss those faint wrinkles, dotting them just like you would on him, adoring the proof of his happiness.

“You’re the only one who can tell because you know me too well. I don’t have such problems with other people.”

“And isn’t that sad?” You enquire, shifting in his hold to intertwine your fingers. “To be surrounded by people who don’t know you? The real you?”

His smile vanishes and you almost wish to take it all back, remain silent just so he could be happy for longer. Just so he could smile and pretend you weren’t a lost cause, a story with a hopeless future that will always end tragically.

“It’s depressing.” He admits easily, almost like he’s been waiting for someone to finally see through him and call his bluff. A tortured artist, Hyunjin has always had a flair for the dramatic.

Silence settles between you, making itself comfortable as you pull your hand back and begin unbuttoning the red cardigan, which still has that specific, new clothing smell mixed with his usual cologne.

Hyunjin doesn’t protest as you take it off to drape over his shoulders, sharing your warmth like you’ve done countless times before, eyes watching you like a hawk. Soft but oh so attentive, studying your every micro-expression like he’d do with the models in one of his painting classes, not missing a breath.

“I have so much to say.” A bittersweet laugh escapes you, causing some of the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay for so long to escape and roll down your cheeks freely. You could spend your whole night here, in this parking lot with him, just talking until the sun rose and you’d be forced to part to start a new day. One that didn’t involve the other anymore. “So many questions. So many stories I’ve saved up, kept to myself because I know you’re the only one who could ever understand.”

Regret cripples his beautiful features as he makes to reach out, to touch and wipe your tears, as expressive as you’ve grown to love him. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have the strength to do so, arms falling to his side pathetically.

You shallow back your tears, wiping your eyes a little too harshly. “But right now, as I’m looking at you, all I want to say is please, take care of yourself.”

“Take your time to dwell on everything until you realize this is not you. This, the version of you that’s currently in front of me, isn’t the Hyunjin everyone has come to love.”

With a deep breath, one that barely fills your lungs with air, your gazes lock for the last time.

“You’re not this cold, unapproachable person that shuts all of his loved ones out. You’re not an island meant to exist by yourself. Remember that.”

Hyunjin stares at you and the way your mouth moves, speechless, unsure how to respond or react to the kindness you are currently showing him. It’s like he couldn’t, unable to speak no matter how hard he tried, the lump in his throat preventing any of his true feelings from escaping.

He couldn’t comprehend why you were still being so nice to him, so loving and compassionate when he’d been anything but that since you met up tonight.

“I – don’t…know what to say.” He manages to let out, voice shaky and on the verge of breaking.

A tiny smile creeps onto your features, bittersweet among the tears that have dried on your cheeks. “That’s alright. Thank you for listening to me; that’s all I needed.”

That’s when you step back towards your apartment building, increasing the distance so you’ll finally be able to breathe. You’re still staring at each other, frozen on the spot, afraid that if you glance away even for a second, the other will disappear.

“Can you please go and wake Seohyun?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, eyes locked into yours as his lips part in search of the proper words that would finally put an end to your misery. Words that would help you go back to the way things were before, to a happier time in your life where his love had you up on cloud nine, feeling invincible in front of everything that life threw your way.

He looks almost pitiful, unable to grasp the hand you’ve given him, the olive branch that would close the distance between you, help him traverse oceans, and get home safe and sound.

So, he does the only thing he can. Hyunjin nods and grants your wish, swiftly turning on his heel to walk away, towards your two sleeping friends. As you watch him, you feel multiple pieces of your heart detaching to run after him, a painful sensation, similar to the hurt you’d feel while peeling a band-aid off a fresh wound.

When Seohyun steps out, stretching her arms above her head, still wearing your jacket, Felix follows. They exchange a few words before Hyunjin departs, rounding the car to get to his seat, closing himself off from the world.

And then, they hug and you can’t help but stare at the scene with an unusual amount of interest. They look great together, like Barbie and Ken, made especially for one another, never meant to be separated.

Seohyun is beaming as she skips towards you, and so is Felix as he waves goodbye from his place by the car, sharing a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t join Hyunjin until he sees your best friend pulling you into a brief embrace, giddy like it’s the first time you crossed paths tonight.

The car then drives off and that’s when your tears return in full force, cascading down your cheeks in a sight that alarms Seohyun who gasps and checks your body for any potential injuries you might have acquired in the past 20 minutes you’ve spent apart.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Her hold on your shoulders tightens, worry written all over her pretty face as she searches for your wandering gaze. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head, but you’re not as convincing as you hoped since the tears don’t stop. “I just want to go home.”

Seohyun links your arms and begins dragging you forward, away from the parking lot and the conversation that has shattered your heart once again.

The next morning, you finally text Changbin back.

A few days later, Friday finds you on your way to class when an urgent phone call has you make a detour to one of your favorite places, to your relief. Anything to skip another never ending lecture you didn’t know how to get out of without Chris or Jisung’s help, who were both too busy with their careers to assist at the moment.

Furry Friends Rescue looked just about the same, standing proudly with all the Halloween decorations you’ve put up ahead of the anticipated holiday. Mrs. Jeon has still not made her return, so you were helping out more than usual – not that you minded anyway. Right now, it was one of those instances, having to hurry over to cover for the guy who was supposed to open the shelter but got caught up with a presentation he forgot all about. In consequence, the shelter was still closed at 11 am which meant the animals still hadn’t had their breakfast.

Dealing with hungry little furballs all by yourself wasn’t how you expected your Friday to go, but you can manage. After all, being alone had become like second nature these days.

That’s why you weren’t expecting to bump into him again.

“Y/n!” Jaemin exclaims as you approach, already halfway through the door. You hurry over, nudging him inside and quickly closing the door before one of the wandering animals can escape.

“I thought I was the only one here…” He mumbles, not meeting your eyes.

You nod, not oblivious to the way things seem to have changed between you since that last game. “I didn’t know Siwoo called you as well.” You exhale, suddenly out of breath. “Well, since you’re here and seem to have everything under control I’ll go – “

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You whip around to face him a little too quickly, surprised at his sudden apology. Jaemin stands tall, not wavering even as Snowflake, the shelter’s star, struts over and begins rubbing her little face against his legs in a loving greeting, the type you never had the pleasure of getting.

Seems like the elephant in the room was too grand for poor Jaemin to ignore any further, feeling genuine remorse about the way your relationship soured.

Still, you play dumb. “Sorry? For what?”

“For keeping it from you.” You know exactly what he’s alluding to. “I’m not the captain and I’ll never be. I’m just filling in until he recovers and gets back.” Somehow, saying Hyunjin’s name seems to be as difficult for him as it is for you. Or maybe it’s avoided out of consideration for you.

“Jaemin – “

“Let me finish.” He takes a step closer, bleached hair pushed out of his face. “I never meant to be the captain. That was never my intention. But what was I supposed to do? The coach was desperate and I felt too bad to turn him down in time of need.”

Jaemin is tall, but now, as he bares his soul to you, a person he met a mere month ago, he looks comically tiny. His vulnerability makes him feel small.

“I thought I did the right thing but now almost every guy on the team seems to hate me.” The breath he lets out shakes him to his core, and you can finally take a peek at the exhaustion that’s been hiding underneath that bright smile. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt to lead a team of people who disliked you, how all of their feet would feel while trampling all over your heart, treating you like the biggest cartoon villain in history.

And now, your initial assessment of him felt a little too cruel. Jaemin didn’t replace Hyunjin willingly and certainly did not mean to erase him from the team, as you and the other players were quick to think.

He was just trying to help. You didn’t know him for long, but his helpful nature has been obvious from day one, enough to get Mrs. Jeon to trust him to take your place. Why did you allow your emotions to treat him so harshly?

Before you can process it, your hand lands on his arm. “They don’t hate you.”

His gaze flies to the casual touch, your attempt at comfort appreciated. “Sure.” Jaemin snorts. “Choi tried to fight me.”

You remember the conversation you witnessed at the game, the stupid plan Yeonjun and Daehyun bonded over. Nothing like an ambush to bring peace between two pigheaded men.

You attempt to suppress a smile, clearing your throat at a memory that steps forward. “Yeonjun has also tried to fight Hyunjin in the past. Daehyun is still trying.”

“Really?”

You nod. “Oh, yeah. Yeonjun thought Hyunjin was too stuck-up and they butted heads all the time. It took a while for them to see eye to eye and even more to become the friends they are today.”

Jaemin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Stuck up? The captain?”

A laugh bubbles out of you, amused at the admiration hidden behind said eyes. “Hyunjin has always been a team player, but being a leader is different. He thought everyone should follow his lead without complaint, not bothering to consult with the others as long as they won the game.”

“That – “ He trails off, wanting to make sure you’re not messing with him. “Doesn’t sound like him at all.”

Despite yourself, you grin. “Well, he’s had three years to get to this point. Do you think he’d still be captain if he continued without changing?”

He’s silent, taking it all in. Jaemin hasn’t been part of the team for long but it seems like the thought of his teammates growing and evolving has never crossed his mind. He just assumed they were all perfect from the beginning. Everyone but him.

“And Daehyun is just stupid, plain and simple.” You add.

Jaemin bursts out laughing, some of the tension leaving his battered shoulders. “I can only agree.”

“So don’t worry about them. Men in sports are strange creatures anyway; you’ll never be able to make all of them happy.”

You take his silent contemplating as an opportunity to crouch down to Snowflake’s level and scratch under her chin, cooing at her beautiful white fur as she begins purring in appreciation.

“What about you?” He suddenly asks, joining you on the floor. “Can I make you happy?”

Your heart thumps loudly, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs at his bold question, heat rushing to your face. “W-What do you mean?”

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, revealing his helix piercing and the red that’s staining the top of his ears. He’s embarrassed, and you can’t help the terror that’s quickly creeping into your heart at the fact that the prospect of a confession is no longer as terrifying as before.

Looking up at you from beneath long lashes, he flushes. “Are we still friends?”

And then, it just stops. You pause, wondering if you heard him right. He’s staring at you so pleadingly, so close to you and your barricaded heart. Taking pity on him is the only right answer, especially after he just poured his heart out just for your sake. Just to make sure your opinion of him hasn’t changed, that you don’t hate him like his teammates do.

Judging by the look on his face, it’s obvious he couldn’t handle that reality. Not after becoming public enemy number one.

With a smile, you reach and poke his forehead, chasing his worries away. “What do you think, dummy? Of course we are.”

Relief floods his features, eyes sparkling with unshed tears he obviously doesn’t want you to notice, swinging backwards with a sigh as Snowflake suddenly jumps into his lap. You laugh, amused by his antics, and he soon joins, just a little strained.

“Thank fuck.” He exhales, sitting up. “Work would have been awkward otherwise.”

You snort, pushing his shoulder before standing up. “Bold of you to assume Mrs. Jeon would let you keep coming back after upsetting me.”

A cocky smirk finds its way on pink lips as he leans back onto his forearms. “You seem to forget Mrs. Jeon has left me in charge until she returns.” Snowflake meows and he reaches to pet her. “You would have been the one let go.”

You frown down at him and he finally laughs, throwing his head back in pure delight.

Just as you move past him to the backroom in search of the food for the hungry furballs, he calls out. “We should hang out sometimes! Outside of work.”

“After you threatened to fire me?” You shout back, busy grabbing one of the big bags of nutritious, top-quality food Mrs. Jeon loved to splurge on. “Not a chance!”

“Come on, I was joking!” But he’s still laughing, no sign of wanting to give a helping hand.

You don’t respond.

“Y/n?”

“I changed my mind. I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

As expected, your statement is only met with another round of laughter you can’t help but reciprocate.

The following week, you begin meeting with Changbin quite frequently, full of inspiration and ready to do your part of the project. Working with him is even better than expected, all smiles, laughter, and good banter that only aids you both in your creative endeavors.

You now realize your apprehensions were all for nothing, your similar creative visions making this whole process a pleasant experience you wouldn’t have otherwise enjoyed were it not for Mr. Kim and his absurd demands.

You were a creature of habit, too placid in your comfort zone, only ever working with Chris and Jisung when the time called for it. One thing that art in itself isn’t. You’ve been told countless times that to become a true artist, one who’ll truly touch people’s hearts, you need to step out of your bubble and spread your wings. But you were never willing to. You still aren’t, not fully anyway. But working with Changbin makes the whole ordeal seem less scary, not as intimidating or frustrating as you thought it’d be.

Today, as you step into the familiar studio, Changbin is joined by Chris and Jisung who are caught up in a heated debate of sorts.

“Hi?”

All three heads swing around to face you, too in synch for your liking, and the conversation fizzles out. Almost like they didn’t want you to hear whatever they were discussing.

“Sup!” Changbin is the first one to greet you, standing up to offer a comforting side hug. “These two will, unfortunately, be joining us today. I hope that’s okay.”

“Unfortunately?” Chris scoffs, kicking Bin’s chair.

“We are her best friends! Us! Not you!” Jisung adds, crossing his arms from his place on the couch.

Changbin rolls his eyes as you hide a giggle behind your hand, walking back to his seat to roll his chair next to Chan’s, bumping into him as some sort of silent warning.

“What are you guys up to?” You ask after greeting your two pouty best friends, giving them the proper hugs needed to stop their sulking. When you finally sit on the couch, Jisung makes himself comfortable with his head in your lap, lounging about like he owns the place.

“You know.” Changbin nods towards their open laptops. “Work.”

Jisung’s only response is a groan, rolling around to bury his head in your fluffy sweater, not wanting to be part of this conversation. Instinctively, your hand finds his soft locks and begins combing through them.

You haven’t seen these two in a while, work keeping them even busier than usual. It’s been lonely, especially since Seohyun has started spending most of her free time with Felix of all people. Seems like their relationship was getting too serious, too fast and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Felix was a great guy, one of the nicest people you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. But your best friend was known for jumping into things, head first, without much thought. Did he really like her as much as she thought? Did she actually have feelings for him beyond the initial infatuation?

But you couldn’t interfere. After all, you weren’t able to keep your own relationship afloat, so who were you to doubt theirs?

You just hoped Seohyun was being careful. As much as you liked to think you knew Felix, he’s spent the last few years in a different environment, away from his friends and everything he was accustomed to. The probability of him being a completely different person despite appearances was never zero.

“I’m guessing that means your projects are done?” You probe, untangling Jisung’s hair.

Chris shakes his head, brown curls flying everywhere. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“That’s because his partner is an ex situationship. He’s running away.” Jisung chimes in, voice muffled by the material of your clothing.

Chris gasps a little too loudly, face flushing in embarrassment as Changbin cackles at his misery, having the time of his life. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to deny it, even argue with Jisung, but the truth prevents him from doing so.

Tugging on his hair, you then look down at the man in your lap. “And what’s your excuse?”

Jisung groans, university assignments being the bane of his existence. “You know me! I don’t feel any pressure to do anything until the very last day!”

Oh, yeah. Very on brand for the king of procrastination.

“I told you we’re way ahead of everyone else.” Changbin suddenly says, puffing up his chest, pride written all over his features.

Chris turns towards you, surprised. “You’re writing again?”

When you nod, he breaks out into the brightest smile, one that could put the sun to shame, and your heart grows at the pride you feel radiating off of him. He and Changbin both seem to be happier than you at the fact that you finally found your voice again.

“Not only is she writing again, she finished a whole song all by herself yesterday!” With the way he’s boasting, you’d think Changbin is talking about one of his achievements. You were so grateful for him and the way he’s been supporting you, holding your hand through this difficult journey made easier by his kind words, how he didn’t rush or berate you for feeling stuck.

“What?” Jisung sits up, staring between you and his friend. “And you didn’t play it for us?”

Changbin shakes his head. “No can do. It’s Y/n’s song, only she can decide when to play it for others.”

“Yet you heard it.” Chris pouts, joining Jisung as you try to muffle your giggles at their antics.

“I produced it!”

“I could have produced it as well!”

Chris clears his throat, grabbing both of their attention. “I’ve known her for longer.”

“That has nothing to do with this!” They almost yell in unison, and you finally lose it, falling backwards on the couch as laughter overwhelms you.

The loud chatter continues and your happiness reaches new highs, the three of them never fail to lift your spirits. They’ve always managed to make you feel included, no matter how many people were asking for their attention at a time, never turning their backs on you in favor of impressing potential contacts who could help further their careers.

Hanging out with the three of them felt like old times when your big friend group would get together and party until the sun came up. When you’d go on trips and have the time of your life, along with your beloved and these people who loved you unconditionally.

You missed it, but above it all, you felt guilty, not managing to shake off this irritating voice that loved to whisper nonsense in your ear. About how you’re not enough, how it’s all your fault they all fell apart, divided because of the tragic ending that has cursed your love story.

It might as well have been all of your fault. You just hoped, deep down, that Chris would be able to find it in himself to forgive you because you could never forgive yourself.

Time flies as you’re having fun, projects, work, and university all forgotten in favor of catching up and discussing everything that comes to mind, comfortable among friends to give free rein to your deepest thoughts. Changbin talks about this new girl he’s seeing, how the thrill of a new relationship keeps him awake at night. He’s always been a hopeless romantic. Chris opens up about that ex situationship of his, how running away from that responsibility has been keeping his steps up.

Jisung is about to open up about Yoona until the distinct beeping of a code being pushed in reaches your ears and the door swings open, startling the four of you as the conversation comes to an abrupt stop.

Because in steps none other than Minho, closely followed by Seungmin.

“Oh?” Minho blinks, pointily ignoring your presence. “Are we interrupting tea time, princesses?”

Changbin laughs, but the sound isn’t genuine, a little awkward as Jisung rolls his eyes so far back you’re sure he greeted his brain. Chris tries his best to smile and be welcoming, but you can see right through him. Something, or maybe someone, is clearly bothering him.

“Can’t you knock?” Jisung is just as blunt, not bothering to greet either of them.

Minho’s eyebrows hike up. “Why would I? I have the code for a reason, unlike someone in here.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about you or Jisung, who got this benefit removed a few months ago when he brought over a random groupie, too impatient to make it back to the apartment.

Either way, he’s still annoyed, puffing and blowing hair out of his face while fishing out his phone to put an end to this conversation.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Seungmin’s honeyed voice calms the spirits as he steps forward. “I had no idea you were having a meeting.”

“They’re clearly not.” With that said, Minho’s eyes finally met yours, narrowed in that usual glare he seemed to save for the people he truly disliked. Like you.

It sends a shiver down your spine, the unpleasant kind, whole body tenses up under his scrutinizing gaze. You’ve always found Minho’s eyes beautiful and that unfortunately hasn’t changed even as his opinion of you did.

Jisung and Minho used to be like two peas in a pod, inseparable, sharing a bond that would often leave others green with envy. You’d sometimes get into playful arguments with Minho, demanding he return your best friend at once, before you were both pulled into a hug by said best friend, forced to make up by his bright laughter.

Now, they couldn’t stand one another.

“Why are you guys here? Did something happen at home?” Changbin finally breaks the awkward silence, standing up to properly greet his two friends.

Minho shakes his head, while Seungmin adds. “No. Just wanted to talk to you about the festival.”

“Festival?” The question escapes without your consent, and the attention is back on you.

Seungmin looks confused. “You haven’t told her?” This question is pointed toward your best friend who only shakes his head sheepishly.

“It slipped my mind.”

Jisung looks exasperated, just barely holding himself back from leaving the room as your eyes dart between them, full of questions.

“Well, that’s fine.” His face comes into view, reserved smile on full display as he addresses you. Seungmin has always been more introverted than the others. “The film festival is taking place next week. Our university has managed to bring in some seasoned film critics to judge this year’s submissions, which also includes one of my short movies.”

Then, with utmost gentleness, like you were an easily frightened child, his hand lands on your shoulder. “I hope you can make it.”

Seungmin…was inviting you?

The film festival was a yearly event, one of the biggest ones at your university, close behind the dance competition and the beloved football season. Jisung loves movies, so you were always in attendance, surrounded by your friend group and their entertaining banter that made the night even more special.

But after your falling out, you didn’t expect anyone to want you there.

“Changbin?” Minho’s sharp voice cuts through, and Seugmin straightens. “A word?”

Changbin follows them outside after Seugmin bids everyone goodbye with another soft smile, and the door clicks shut behind them, leaving the three of you alone.

Jisung is grumbling under his breath, finally able to relax while Chris turns towards you, with one of his famous smiles, eyes sparkling for some unknown reason. He’s taken off his beanie, rolled up his sleeves, tattoos on full display – he means business.

“Isn’t this great?” He hums, taking hold of your hands. His are cold. “It’s been a while since we’ve all done something together. I bet Seohyun will be thrilled.”

“As if she actually cares.” Jisung mumbles, draping himself over the couch to get to the mini fridge in the corner.

Chris ignores him, his hold on you tightening. “What do you think, sweetheart? Feel like watching some up and coming masterpieces with me?”

You see the longing in his eyes, the wish for things to go back to normal – for you to regain your spark. He misses them, the friends you used to spend all of your time with, and your heart drops. It’s all your fault. If it weren’t for you and your emotional outburst, things would have still been fine.

You and Hyunjin would still be together, Chris would still have his friends, and Jisung wouldn’t act like they never existed. Everyone wouldn’t be so divided.

Why did you have to ruin everything?

“Chris, I…don’t think it’s a good idea.” His face falls, so you quickly add. “I don’t want to ruin it for everyone.”

The perplexity on his face makes you feel even worse. “What? What are you even talking about? Seungmin invited you himself.”

You shake your head. “Just because I happened to be here, and I asked about it. I’m sure I put him in an awkward position where he felt like he had to.”

“Nonsense!” He denies your ridiculous claims in a heartbeat.

“Chris, no offense, but I’d rather spend my night with people that like me and enjoy my company.”

“We can have our own movie night, bug.” Jisung chides, big hands landing on your shoulders from behind. “Horror, of course.”

Chris completely brushes off Jisung’s comment, still committed to convincing you. “He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t like you, Y/n. Wake up.”

“No, you need to wake up!” Jisung snaps before you can say anything, eyes two sharp slits ready to come for his throat. You fall back against his chest, pulled by his strong arms, almost like he was trying to protect you from the intensity of his next words. “You’ve been going on and on about this for days, insisting we all act like nothing happened just so we can fulfill your absurd fantasy! Let it go.”

Chris’s eyes narrow. “You’re one to talk? Seugmin tried to do a nice thing and you, along with Minho, ruined it for everyone!”

Now you were lost. What were they talking about?

“Why the fuck do you care more about Seugmin than about your best friend and the way that group has been treating her?”

The silence that follows is deafening, more damaging than any booming sound, both for your ears and your fragile heart. You’re speechless, eyes glued to the floor, unable to look at Chris and see the hurt flash across his face – hurt you’ve caused. Jisung was just trying to defend you but he could have been nicer; you should have said something else before things escalated to this level.

“Are you fucking serious?” Is all Chris manages to murmur after pushing past his disbelief, staring you both down with an intensity that could break even the most resilient person. However, Jisung isn’t as easily spooked, meeting his gaze head-on, always the most stubborn one in the room.

“I have been nothing but supportive. Been your shoulder to lean on, cry and breakdown on whenever you needed. I kept watch over you for months, every day without fail, just to make sure you weren’t drowning in self-pity.”

That was true. You were quite pathetic after things ended between you and Hyunjin, like a house without land or a boat without water, just floating aimlessly. Chris rushed over the moment you called, to be your rock and bring you back to the surface, not leaving even as your crying never subsided. He was the first one to know, the first one you confided in, the one whose shirt you soaked with your tears.

For the first two months spent in Australia, when it was only you, him, and his family, he never let you out of sight. Chris took you everywhere with him, trying to rope you into new activities, hobbies you might enjoy that could bring your smile back even for the briefest moment needed for his batteries to recharge.

You couldn’t have regained that sense of normality without him by your side, holding your hand every step of the way.

“I tried to open your eyes and make you see that nobody hates you. They don’t blame you for what happened because frankly, it doesn’t concern any of them!” He runs a hand through unruly curls, visibly distressed.

“The person Minho hates is me, not you! Do you know why? Because he’s convinced I picked you over Hyunjin, which I fucking did.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and that’s when you feel Jisung freeze behind you, most of the fight leaving his body.

You had no idea Minho resented him for that. Chris became a villain in someone’s story because of you. Chris, sunshine embodied, the guy who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

“And the worst part of it all is that I can’t condone him. I would have hated myself too.”

You have a hunch he already does. Chris has always had the habit of blaming himself for everything going wrong in his life, sometimes for things that were obviously out of his control.

Then he turns to address Jisung. “And you dare say I don’t care about Y/n.”

Jisung looks away, biting the side of his cheek, most likely ashamed of his previous outburst.

“You’re so far up your ass that you can’t even see your friends miss you and are trying to make amends.”

At that, Jisung scoffs, most likely not believing his words entirely. Chris’s eyes narrow.

“Playing mediator was never my fucking job yet I still did it because I care about you two and your happiness. I put it above mine and everything else that matters to me!”

“Nobody asked you to do that.” The man behind you mumbles, still bitter.

“Jisung!” You turn around to get a hold of his ear, which makes him complain loudly, pulling until he swats your hand away and you almost get into an argument of your own.

Yet, Chris isn’t impressed, not in the slightest. Your attention is captured by the loud sound of his chair rolling back, and as he stands up, the door opens, and Changbin returns, alone.

He freezes on the spot, the tension preventing him from advancing as he stares between the three of you with the biggest question mark above his head. Your best friend pays him no mind and instead addresses you one last time, eyes devoid of their usual spark.

“I’m done. Just do whatever you want, I don’t care anymore.”

With those simple words, Chris turns his back to you and walks out, not even bothering to close the door behind him or spare you another glance. Changbin looks torn between following him or staying put to hear the whole story, but eventually, he bolts after your friend, not caring about what either you or Jisung have to say.

All alone, you stare at each other, guilt eating at you from the inside. The gravity of the situation hits you both at the same time, like a punch to the face neither saw coming.

What have you done?

“Bug – “

You shake your head, putting a hand up to stop him from saying anything else.

Chris was the last person you wanted to hurt in this lifetime.

How could you have been so stupid?

How could you have ruined another one of your relationships?

[mordredpendragon]

SIR MORDRED, The Traitor: A Masterpost

“Know that he will be born the first day of May in the kingdom of Logres.” ⸺ Post Vulgate

In celebration of Mordred's birthday, here's a compilation of all things Mordred!

Majority of these links are supplied by the @arthurianpreservationproject 💕 Would just like to shoutout @queer-ragnelle and @tboymordred for the help in making this! As well as many of my beloved friends and mutuals for their extended support. I put a whole lot of time and effort into this post, so to anyone reading this, I hope it will be of use to you in some way.

I would just like to preface that while I do try to be as thorough as possible, this is by no means an exhaustive list of every single Mordred appearance that exists. That would be impossible. Consider this moreso a curated list of based on what I have seen and what has been available to me thus far, so this will be updated as I go along.

There's a myriad of things I elected not to include for numerous reasons, so the media and literature I have chosen are ones that I think would be of interest for someone seeking out Mordred content specifically.

EDIT: After the scare I got for having my account terminated, I decided to make a Google Doc version of this masterpost in case anything happens again. The gdoc and this post will be updated at the same time whenever I have any new additions, which will be marked as ‼️

Last updated: 31/5/2025

Medieval Texts

Exhibit A

British History and The Welsh Annals by Nennius (Latin)

⭐The History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth (Latin)

⭐The History of Scotland by Hector Boece (Latin)

⭐Chronica Gentis Scotorum by John of Fordun (Latin)

The Dream of Rhonabwy (Welsh)

The Welsh Triads (Welsh)

⭐Lancelot-Grail Vulgate Cycle (French)

Post-Vulgate (French)

Merlin and the Grail by Robert de Boron (French)

⭐Roman de Brut by Wace (French)

⭐Layamon's Brut (Middle English)

Stanzaic Morte Arthure (Middle English)

⭐Alliterative Morte Arthure (Middle English)

Le Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory (Middle English)

Mort Artu (Middle English)

La Tavola Ritonda (Italian)

These are the texts translated into English that I'm aware of where Mordred is a central character or plays a significant role. Out of all of these, I personally recommend Alliterative Morte Arthure, Layamon's Brut, and Vulgate the most. In these texts Mordred is given a surprising amount of complexity and nuance, especially in Alliterative Morte Arthure. He even gets a sick title, Mordred the Malebranche/Evil-Arm. Below in the essays section there's plenty of literature analyzing and discussing it, which I suggest you go take a read if you're curious. His characterization in Vulgate is also one of my top favorites and is also incredibly in-depth, especially prior to his rebellion. He was described as having been "kind and compassionate" at the start of his career as a knight, only for him to spiral after finding out his true heritage.

The Scottish Chronicles (such as the accounts written by John of Fodrun and Hector Boece, although there are more of them not listed.) are also fascinating since they talks about how Arthur is actually illegitmate and Mordred is the rightful ruler all along. While Fodrun speaks well of Arthur as an admirable king, Boece is biased against him in favor of Mordred/Modredus.

Exhibit B

⭐Perceval + Continuations (French)

I put this text in an entirely separate section purely because Mordred is just a side character here, but I think it's worth looking into if you like Mordred. In the Perceval Continuations, particularly the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Continuations, he is primarily shown as an antagonist for Percival. They have an intense duel where Mordred loses and begs Percival for mercy, to which he then sends him off to Arthur's court as his prisoner. Admittedly, I am biased 🌈 but Mordred shows up more often than you'd expect. The tone is moreso lighthearted and humorous with his rebellion against Arthur seemingly absent in it.

Retellings

I'm working on this in a time crunch so not everything has commentary (might update it when I feel like it lol) All my favorites and ones I consider must-reads/watches are listed with a star⭐ That being said, enjoy!

Novels

part I (Main Character)

⭐The Wicked Day by Mary Stewart

⭐A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

⭐Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Queen's Knight by Marvin Barowsky (cw: pedarasty)

The Book of Mordred + The Last Knight of Albion by Peter Hanratty

part II (Secondary Character)

Arthur The Bear of Britain by Edward Frankland

The Eagles Have Flown by Henry Treece

The Great Captains by Henry Treece

The Green Man by Henry Treece

Poetry

The Song of the Four Knights by Ernest Rhys

The Fight at Camlann by John Masefield

⭐Modred: A Fragment by Edwin Arlington Robinson

The Death of King Arthur by Your Loving Granny

King Arthur's Death by M.G Lewis

Plays

⭐Mordred: A Tragedy by Henry Newbolt

King Arthur by J. Comyns Carr

The Misfortunes of Arthur by Thomas Hughes

Guenevere: A Play in Five Acts by Stark Young

Short Stories

⭐Mordred and the Green Knight by Phyllis Ann Karr

Night Mare by Chelsea Quinn Yaribo

Told by the Moonlight by Darrel Schweitzer

Films and TV

Films

⭐Knights of the Round Table (1953) dir. by Richard Thorpe, played by Stanley Baker

Sword of Lancelot (1963) dir. by Cornel Wilde, played by Michael Meacham

Camelot (1967) dir. by Joshua Logan, played by David Hemmings

Unidentified Flying Oddball (1979) dir. by Russ Mayberry, played by Jim Dale

⭐Excalibur (1981) dir. by John Boorman, played by Robert Addie (adult) and Charley Boorman (child)

⭐Morte d'Arthur (1984) dir. by Gillian Lynne, played by Nickolas Grace

⭐Knightriders (1981) dir. by George A. Romero, played by Tom Savini (technically his name is Morgan here but he's basically just Mordred.)

⭐New Adventures of a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court (1988) dir. by Viktor Gres, played by Mark Gres

Camelot (1998)

King Arthur Excalibur Rising (2017) dir. Antony Smith, played by Gavin Swift

Arthur & Merlin Knights of Camelot (2020) dir. Giles Alderson, played by Joel Phillimore

Everything listed with a ⭐ are genuinely some of my top ever favorite portrayals of Mordred. Absolute must-watch. 80's Arthuriana is life changing.

TV

Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949) uncredited for whatever reason :/ if anyone knows who his actor is please let me know!

⭐BBC Legend of King Arthur (1979) played by Steve Hodson

⭐Merlin (1998) played by Jason Done

BBC Merlin (2008-2012) played by Alexander Vlahos (adult), Asa Butterfield (child)

Other

Music

⭐Mordred's Song by Blind Guardian

Mordred's Song by Grave Digger

Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale

Crashing Down by Heather Dale

War Between Brothers by Heather Dale

⭐Seven Deadly Virtues from Camelot (Musical)

Demon Down by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

The Hard Way by Gary Hughes ft. Doogie White

Peacemaker by The Mechanisms

Skin and Bone by The Mechanisms

TTRPG's

I, Mordred: The Fall & Rise of Camelot

Fair warning that I reccomend this with HUGE caveats as this contains violent misogyny, racism, and homophobia. If you like Gareth please look away because he sucks in this. That being said, Mordred is very much intended to be the hero you root for and he's so dreamy. He's described as pure of heart. He seems cold, but is warm to those he's close to. He has war dogs and they're all named after the 7 virtues. In a dark, bleak and gritty fantasy setting, Mordred is a shining beacon. It's adorable. I haven't played this myself, only read through the entire booklet but there's a lot of cool concepts and story beats that you can definitely expound upon yourself. Even the less savory elements, especially the misogyny and racism, can honestly just be ignored by the GM.

Video Games

King Arthur: Knight's Tale

I haven't played this so I can't tell you much about it, but it's a turn-based strategy game where Mordred is the main playable character and it's set in Post-Camlann.

Resources and Essays

Books

The New Arthurian Encyclopedia by Norris J. Lacy

The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles Especially Those of Great Britain and France by Robert Huntington Fletcher

The Arthurian Way of Death: The English Tradition edited by Karen Cherewatuk & K.S Whetter

Essays

⭐Mordred: Heroes and Anti-Heroes in Medieval Romance by Judith Weiss

⭐Arthur, Mordred, and Tragedy in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Gillian Adler

Friendly Fire: The Disastrous Politics of Friendship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Christine Chism

Re-presenting Mordred: Three Plays of 1895 by Pamela Yee

⭐Mordred's Lost Childhood by Elizabeth Archibald

The Sword and the Scepter: Mordred, Arthur, and the Dual Roles of Kingship in the Alliterative "Morte Arthure" by Steven P.W Bruso

⭐Who Was King Arthur’s Sir Modred? by Andrew Breeze

[sundaysconsort]

I would like to request some fluffy established relationship headcanons for Aven, Phainon and Stella (my queen 🤲🐥💛🥹) hehe, take your time with this req! 🤭🫶💖

Entry : " Just You And I Until Forever "

Pairings : HSR! Aventurine | HSR! Phainon | OC! Strelitzia

Information : My "fluffy" Established Relationship headcanons! It's been several years since I've written a request, I hope this is to your satisfaction, my Beloved. I’m sure it’s somewhat ooc, and I apologize if it’s chaotic or repetitive! 🥲💙🫶

Tags : Fluff, Emotional vulnerability, Doubt, Comfort, Established Relationship, Intimacy, mutual respect, supportive relationships, gentle affection, etc. I'm terrible at tags.

Subject: Aventurine | Love Language: Gift giving

Aventurine’s love language is unmistakably rooted in "gift-giving." He is a man who equates his self-worth with his financial success, and there’s a certain joy that radiates from him when he showers you with lavish presents. Each carefully chosen gift is not just an object; it symbolizes his affection and desire to indulge you, reinforcing his sense of pride and fulfillment in the relationship.

He is a man who possesses an uncanny ability to read your gaze, effortlessly guiding you through the vibrant store aisles filled with colorful fabrics and stylish garments. As he strolls alongside you, his keen eye catches sight of various pieces of clothing, and he eagerly presents them to you, his enthusiasm infectious. If you express even the slightest interest in a particular item, he insists on purchasing it for you, his generosity unwavering, no matter the cost. Should you politely decline his offer, he remains undeterred. With a patient smile, he waits for a moment when your attention is elsewhere, and by the morning light, you might discover the very piece of clothing you hesitated over, neatly folded on your bed as if waiting for you. Alternatively, you may receive a discreet text message, a playful hint teasing you about a delightful surprise eagerly awaiting you once you complete your work or studies.

He is a man who takes pride in flaunting you as his own, to the point where it sometimes borders on possessiveness. With a broad grin, he delights in the attention you attract, wrapping his arm around your waist in public and speaking with intention—louder so that those around you can hear. He clings desperately to his last chip, fully aware that without his luck, he feels lost. Without you, what does he have left? You belong to him, just as he belongs to you. It will take time for him to embrace himself, as he is already capable of doing for you.

He is a man whose every intention is to make you feel beautiful, help you stand out, and remind himself that you belong to him. He struggles to understand the concept of love and the idea of someone truly cherishing him. To him, you are a gamble, a thrill he cannot resist, no matter how hard he once tried. He is completely wrapped around your finger.

He is a man who once believed that he could rely solely on his good fortune, as he felt he had nothing else to offer. Or rather, he once had nothing. Now, however, he has more to lose than ever before: you. You have become his top priority for as long as your relationship continues.

He is a man who misses his partner dearly, finding that every little detail in his life somehow reminds him of you. Little by little, he begins to enjoy his life again; every gamble he wins becomes money to be spent on you. You have become his reason for living. Each time he is able to care for his own needs, he feels secure, knowing that you are happiest when he is healthy. You make him whole, serving as a beacon of light in his once-darkened world of solitude. In your presence, he often drops his usual confident facade and smooth talk; whether through his words or actions, he becomes more genuine. He may speak less, carefully choosing his words to ensure they are sincere rather than deceptive.

He is a man who endlessly praises your body and your character. He possesses a genuine love that is free from fabrication or deceit; he truly treasures it. Surprisingly, he is more hesitant when it comes to receiving physical touch than one might expect. In a committed relationship, every move he makes is carefully calculated to elicit a reaction from you. He kisses your fingers delicately, appreciates your every imperfection, and gently trails his kisses toward your knuckles before resting his forehead against the back of your hand.

He is a man who melts into your embrace over time. At first, his body may feel stiff when you take him into your arms, but soon a wave of ease washes over him, and he returns the embrace with an amused comment laced with desire. He craves your arms wrapped around him. His eyes may close as he sinks deeper into your frame, feeling safe. Whether he is the one protecting you or the other way around, he is content to relish this moment. He allows himself to feel the warmth, care, and love that come from a true partner—someone who has seen him at his worst and loves him all the same.

He is a man who takes every chance to whisk you away on a luxurious adventure. While he enjoys shopping during your dates, he gradually introduces you to exquisite meals at sought-after restaurants, all while remembering your favorite dishes for next time. When the moment is right, he confidently orders for you, always with a warm grin. You | "What if I wanted to try something new today?" Aventurine | "Then I'd buy you that as well. Who do you take me for?"

Bonus section for @aventurineswife, I'll feel guilty if it's not fluffy enough for you. He is a man who delights in the sound of your laughter, cherishing it more than anything else in the world. When he breathes softly against your neck, it sends a thrill down your spine, and then he turns away with a casual, playful air, as if to draw you deeper into his charm. At the sight of you, he can’t help but whistle, a melody that reflects the joy you bring to his life. He has a knack for moments of whimsy, like when he playfully sets his hat atop your head, playfully shielding your eyes from the sun, while also drawing you into a world of shared laughter. In conversations, he removes his sunglasses, allowing his eyes to convey the sincerity of his attentiveness. He leans in closer, captivated by your words and eager to connect on a deeper level, showing that your thoughts and opinions matter to him immensely. He is the kind of man who would go any distance for your attention, whether it’s a small gesture or a grand romantic act. Although he presents an air of confidence, he can be brought to his knees when you challenge him, and only by you, revealing an endearing vulnerability. He thrives on the banter, enjoying how you keep him on his toes, igniting playful debates that spark chemistry between you. He loves to tease you endlessly, his gentle jabs filled with affection, always knowing exactly how to make you smile. There’s something intoxicating about the way he inhales your scent as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment as if it’s a precious secret. His commitment shines through in the way he makes you wear matching rings, a playful promise that symbolizes a bond evolving toward something even deeper—a future engagement that he envisions with you. He genuinely values your opinions, listening attentively and encouraging you to express yourself freely. When it comes to your body, he sees beauty in every imperfection. He adores your "imperfections" whether they're love handles, moles, stretch marks, birthmarks, or scars, he'll end up interpreting each one as a testament to your beauty, strength and unique story. He is unapologetically a man in love, celebrating every facet of who you are and embracing the unique qualities that make you, you.

Subject: Phainon | Love Language: Physical touch

Phainon is a man who places a high value on "physical touch;" it is his primary love language. He feels most connected to others through the warmth of hugs, the brush of a hand, and the intimacy of close proximity. For him, these simple gestures convey deep affection and strengthen his emotional bonds with those he cares about.

He is a man who wraps his arms around you gently as you drift off to sleep, providing a warm and comforting presence. With each soothing embrace, he creates a safe haven, making sure you feel protected and cherished throughout the night. His steady breathing and quiet whispers reassure you, helping to quiet any worries that might linger in your mind. In those moments, you can surrender to rest, knowing he will safeguard your dreams with love and care.

He is a man who envelops you in a flurry of affectionate kisses, his lips brushing against your skin with a gentle urgency. Each kiss feels like a promise, as he methodically covers every inch of your body, lingering on your cheeks, forehead, and the curve of your neck, pouring his heart into each moment. As he prepares for a long mission that will take him away from you, he seems to want to memorize the warmth of your skin and the rhythm of your breath, as if these tender moments might sustain you both in the days to come. His kisses are not just physical gestures; they carry a depth of emotion, reminding you that every second spent together is a cherished memory to hold onto during his absence.

He is a man who is thoughtful and devoted. He who willingly adjusts his meticulously planned schedule to accommodate your needs. Despite the demanding responsibilities that come with being the Chrysos heir, a position that often pulls him in numerous directions, he prioritizes your time together. His commitment reflects not only his affection for you but also his determination to make every moment count, regardless of the pressures he faces from his title and the expectations that come with it.

He is a man who clings to the tiniest fragments of your conversations, recalling with fondness the playful exchanges and silly remarks that once made you both laugh. Each lighthearted memory—like your infectious giggle or a shared inside joke—becomes a precious lifeline amid the harsh realities of the battlefield. As he navigates the chaos and uncertainty of combat, he often finds himself lost in daydreams of home, where your smile awaits him. The very thought of not returning to you weighs heavily on his heart, filling him with a determination to survive, so he can once again embrace the safe haven of your presence and relive those cherished moments.

He is a man who takes his role as your partner seriously. As the respected heir of Chrysos, he stands guard over you, ensuring that no one suspicious can approach without his explicit permission. Anyone who seeks to reach you must first navigate through his watchful presence, as he meticulously assesses their intentions, weighing each potential visitor with careful scrutiny before deciding whether to grant them access. His formidable demeanor can be intimidating, but beneath it lies a willingness to respect your wishes. If you desire space or want him to step back, he will readily understand and allow you the freedom you seek, always prioritizing your comfort, often brushing off his protective behavior with humor and affection.

He is a man who effortlessly attuned to the subtle social cues that reveal your emotions. He seems to instinctively know what brings you joy and what makes you uncomfortable, even if you hesitate to share your feelings. His playful nature often shines through as he tells silly jokes, aiming to elicit a smile from you or lighten the mood when he senses any unease.

He is a man who, upon realizing he has upset you or made you feel uncomfortable, instantly transforms into a flurry of apologies. His demeanor shifts noticeably, and you can see the concern etched on his face as he fumbles through his words, striving to express how truly sorry he is for his actions. It’s as if he feels a deep sense of responsibility for your feelings and is eager to make amends, often over-explaining himself in a bid to ensure you understand that it was never his intention to cause you distress. His awkwardness only adds to the sincerity of his remorse, making it clear that he values your feelings profoundly.

Subject: Strelitzia "Stella" | Love Language: Quality time

Strelitzia is a woman known for her striking presence, often opting for silence instead of speech. She values "quality time" with her partner, and her moments of quietude do not stem from a lack of thoughts or feelings. Rather, they reflect a profound depth of character and a keen observant nature.

She is a woman who is devoted, willing to fight for your cause in the face of opposition, despite her own anxieties. You can see the fierce determination etched on her face as she steps forward to protect you without a word, her body tense with anticipation, in fear. When you finally call her name, the tension in her features begins to melt away, replaced by a gentle warmth and concern.

She is a woman who swivels her head at the familiar sound of your voice, her expression lighting up as she searches the crowd for you. Her feathers, a stunning array of iridescent colors, create a soft glow that sets her apart from those around her. As she spots you, her wings unfold gracefully, flapping with an animated rhythm that mirrors the excited wag of a dog’s tail, betraying her eagerness and joy.

She is a woman who tends to withdraw due to her fear of making mistakes. Despite this distance, she can't help but keep a watchful eye on you from afar, silently ensuring your safety. Her protective instincts drive her to monitor your well-being, even if she struggles to engage directly. It’s a complex balance of wanting to be close yet feeling the need to maintain space, all rooted in her desire to shield you from potential harm.

She is a woman who, without even realizing it, orchestrates romantic outings in hidden, tranquil spots away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Whether it's a charming little picnic by a serene lake, a leisurely stroll through a secluded forest, or an unexpected sunset watching at a quiet beach, her natural inclination seems to draw her towards intimate settings that evoke a sense of magic and connection.

She is a woman who truly engages with every word you say, giving her full attention as you share your thoughts, stories, and even your frustrations. With her warm, inviting smile, she creates a safe space where you feel comfortable venting and rambling on. It’s as if she hangs on to each word, her eyes sparkling with empathy, reflecting a genuine interest in what you’re expressing. Whether you’re sharing a small triumph or a deep concern, she listens intently, her expression soft and encouraging, making you feel heard and valued in every moment you spend together.

She is a woman who embodies the saying "actions speak louder than words." Her deeds often convey her intentions and feelings more powerfully than any spoken language could. Despite the fatigue that often accompanies lengthy conversations, she perseveres in her efforts to articulate her thoughts and ideas for you. Her determination to communicate, even when drained, highlights her commitment to connecting with you, ensuring that her message is heard and understood.

She is a woman who cherishes the beauty of subtle, gentle touches that convey warmth and affection. As her relationship deepens, she finds herself growing more impulsive and adventurous, exploring this newfound intimacy with enthusiasm. Unbeknownst to her, each shared moment and intimate gesture signifies her personal growth, allowing her to shed layers of hesitation and embrace the comfort of being herself. With each passing day, she becomes increasingly attuned to her own desires, relishing in the freedom of expressing her feelings openly and confidently.

[dustmusings]

After the Dust Settles / Elrond x Fem!Reader

summary: Elrond finds you after the fall of Eregion. Startled by the condition he’s in, you’d do anything to bring him the relief he needs.

warnings/tags: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, idiots in love (reader is the biggest idiot, sorry), healthy dose of mutual pining, reader is an elf, some miscommunication, minor injury and blood, smut, fingering, pinv sex, reader has medieval expectations and elrond exceeds because I! say! so!

a/n: alright, first non star wars fic on tumblr, whatever whatever. it’s not gonna become a thing unless... this man has not left my mind since the end of season 2 so here, have this. I am not the most well versed in The Lore pls don’t crucify me for it. [@jetii here it is, as promised]

writing masterlist / join my taglist / read on ao3 / word count: 6k

Since the elves had been afforded sanctuary by the rings, you had been trying to busy yourself with any number of menial tasks to help ease minds, distract your own at all costs. The battle for Eregion had taken not only people’s lives, but the will of the ones who remained, and with what little of your sanity you had left you picked up where others could not face continuing.

You were inside the walls of the city when the orcs attacked, an archer on the last line of defence. The effort was futile, and it had been apparent even before the battle had begun. Watching so many of your kind fall into the clutches of death was more than you had bargained for, and something you wouldn’t soon forget. Your quiver and bow laid at your side, a piece of you unwilling to part from them still. 

Now in the safety of the valley, you had set up a small tent, where people could come to have their ailments tended to with a preferred level of privacy. You were no healer, but they were few and far between in present company, so you did what you could. The curtain of night had been drawn for some time, the first time since the end of the battle, and the amount of patients had dwindled into nothing a few hours ago while the sun still clung to the horizon. You were organising what few resources you did have, crouched to view the label of each vial in the small cabinet, and you missed the light scratching of the tent canvas as it slid open.

Your name was called from behind you in a quiet voice, almost sounding like a plea. You turned, finding your beloved friend Elrond standing rigid in the doorway of the tent, his eyes dark and unmoving from yours. His name left your lips in a hoarse whisper as you took in the sight of him. His skin was marred by dirt and blood, a gash cutting him open along the cheekbone, his posture uncharacteristically slumped and hair falling loosely around his face. He still wore his armour from the battle, painted much the same as his skin.

“I did not know if you—“ he seemed to stop himself from speaking, pressing his lips together as he hung his head. His eyes slid closed, and he took a deep, steadying breath. 

You raised yourself from the ground, taking a tentative step towards him, “what is it, Elrond?” 

His gaze raised to you once more at the sound of your voice, and he shook his head lightly, the tiniest of tired smiles lifting his lips, “I am glad you are safe, is all” 

“And you, my lord” you replied, stepping up to him properly now, and raising your hand to his chin to tip his head to the side. His hair fell across his forehead as you traced a finger along the underside of the cut, inspecting.

“Please, you know that is unnecessary” he insisted, taking another deep breath as he watched you carefully. You knew how the title irritated him so when passing your lips, the reason for its passing every time you saw him. “It does not hurt” he claimed, referring to his cut.

“I hear it’s Commander these days” you paid his comment no mind, instead taking in every small scratch that littered the surface of his skin. Your chest tightened at the sight, at the very idea of the elf before you being hurt, having death breathing down his neck. It was beyond relieving that he had made it through the battle.

Elrond’s face drew a tired expression, one of quiet exasperation at your persistence. His hand took hold of your forearm, “please, you need not fuss”

“It must be cleaned” you asserted, dropping your hands from his face and turning away. 

“Melnā, I do not need—”

“Take a seat” you spoke with no room for argument, ignoring the endearment that made your heart flutter as always, “I will return in a moment” 

Taking a step outside, you let yourself breathe in the night air. It really was beautiful here, the moon shining over the water and casting a cool glow along its surface, the trees gently swaying in the breeze as if cradled in its arms. You collected water from the stream just a short distance from the tent, your mind dwelling on the elf that stood just beyond its entrance.

You had known Elrond for what felt like lifetimes, and for any mortal it would have been. In all that time you had never ceased to be enamoured by him. It was quite impossible not to be. He was kind, giving without thought, an attentive healer and a good friend. Possibly that was why it was so odd that you found yourself in this position, or perhaps that was exactly why. He hadn’t come to you for healing, because that wasn’t what this was about, this was caring for him when he needed it most, whether he’d acknowledge it or not. 

He’d always been affectionate with you, in a way that you could face reciprocating. It was more his words than anything, which was not surprising in the least. Though proven a cunning warrior in surviving the recent conflict, his tongue had always been far sharper than his sword. He spoke with intention only, quiet when words held no meaning, avoiding pleasantries when he could, though he always took the time to spare you words of adulation that felt unearned from such a person.

No matter his insistence in speaking it, you could not return the affectionate nickname he called you; melnā. Beloved. It was too real, striking the very deepest part of your heart, where nothing but your love for him resided, festering.

You pulled aside the canvas of the tent, venturing back inside with the pot of water at your hip. Elrond sat in the chair as you had requested, his head tilted back, eyes closed, weighted down by lack of rest. You had never seen him so defeated. His back was curled against the chair, arms hanging limp against his thighs, one leg outstretched and the other falling out to the side. It was disheartening, to say the least, that this elf you knew to be strong-willed above all else was so beaten, inside and out.

You moved silently, not wishing to disturb his moment of peace. It may be the first chance he had had since the battle, after all. You retrieved a cloth, and tentatively approached his slumped figure. It was the sound of water trickling from the cloth that drew him from his stupor. His eyes opened and found yours as you stood hunched over the pot beside him, his posture straightening, more reminiscent of his usual demeanour.

“My apologies” he murmured.

“Your apologies are unnecessary” you spoke softly, wringing out the cloth, “please, rest if that is what your body calls for”

His brows pinched a little, offering a tender look that tugged at your heart. He was so unused to having kindness offered to him, being the one that so often gave it out, that you knew the simple notion had surprised him.

He slumped against the chair once again, eyes never leaving you as you folded the cloth into a neat square; an unnecessarily proper gesture that would soon be proved pointless as the white material became riddled with dirt and blood. You stepped around the pot so you stood in front of him, and took his chin between your fingers once more, tipping his head to get a better look at the wound. As the cool cloth met the warmth of his skin, all of his breath left him in a sharp exhale.

He flinched away only marginally, evidently trying to remain still against the sting. You whispered an apology, but continued on cleaning his wound until the regular hue of his skin shone through the grime. Thankfully the cut wasn’t deep, and really he was lucky to come away from the fight so unscathed where most fell. Though it didn’t stop the way your chest tightened at the simple idea of him being hurt.

Elrond had always been collected in a particularly admirable way, but now as his frustrations could be seen peeking through the cracks of his noble exterior, you were more worried than anything. Only months ago had he been the bright-eyed elf you knew, full of a certain hopefulness that seemed unending. Now as he sat before you, his grey eyes were dimmed, as if someone had snuffed his spark, the state of Middle Earth turning them cold, clouded. Where they had been the welcome mist of an early morning, there was now a storm brewing in them.

He was much changed from who he was, and your heart broke for him.

“You are hurting” he observed in a low voice. You hadn’t known he’d been watching you so closely.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, “I am unharmed” 

His eyebrows drew together as he turned his head, forcing you to stop your movements. “It is not your body” he claimed, taking your wrist as you tried to continue, “it is your mind”

The feel of his fingers wrapped around your skin, the unwavering scrutiny in his eyes, was dizzying. You tried to deny the way your stomach flipped, butterflies taking flight, but it was made difficult by the raising bumps along your skin, the heat that creeped up your neck.

“I did not realise you could read the thoughts of others, Elrond” you deflected, your tone light, almost jesting.

He scoffed quietly, his grip loosening on your wrist, “it was merely an informed assumption” 

“Informed” you chuckled as you resumed wiping the muck from his face, stepping forward a little, “pray tell?” 

“Your face betrays you” he claimed, turning his head away and spreading his knees wider for your ease.

You sighed, following the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, clenched in pain of either flesh or mind, most likely both. You focused on cleaning the area, gently urging him to relax with smooth motions from his cheekbone down to his chin. His eyes closed with a soft breath leaving his lips, his mouth falling open. 

“It troubles me to see you this way, mellon nín” you confessed quietly, “it is so unlike you” 

He hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a deep frown, “It is just a small cut, it will be fixed in a matter of hours”

“It is not your wound that concerns me” you replied, an edge of stringency that you hadn’t intended. He looked up at you with a timidity to his gaze that was hard to ignore. His guard was up, and it was so foreign to see on his features. “May I speak plainly?”

The smallest smile reached his darkened eyes, “as if you would do anything but” 

A gentle laugh escaped you, creasing your eyes with a fondness before they grew sad. You skimmed the back of your fingers over his clean cheek very lightly, and he turned to face you once more. “I am worried for you, Elrond” you whispered, “you are much changed from the elf I once knew”

He sighed desperately, hanging his head, “it is not by any great effort of my own”

“I am aware” you returned, slipping your hand under his jaw to raise his head. The shame in his eyes was hard to bear, and you stroked your thumb across his cheek in a delicate gesture. “What can be done?”

“You need not worry about me” he assured, “wrongs will be righted in time, it is the way of things.” A long breath passed your lips as you stared down at him, worry never leaving your expression. Elrond lifted a hand to you, flattening his palm against the outside of your knee and rubbing up and down in a comforting manner, “please do not fret, melnā nín“

You could feel your cheeks burn at the endearment, and busied yourself by focusing on the task at hand, threading your fingers through the hair that fell over his forehead to push it back. “You should not call me that” you muttered, dragging the cloth over his temple.

“Why?” he rebutted softly, thumb tracing over the top of your knee, “because I am ‘changed’?” 

You frowned at him, not understanding the question, “because you do not use it for its intended meaning”

The statement made him sit up immediately, his back straightening so he drew closer in proximity, his chest almost flush against you, “why do you assume so?” 

His sudden closeness was as startling as his words, and you were left with your hands in the air, unsure what to do with them, your mouth hanging open and trying to find the right words. “I— I do not take your meaning”

”You believe that I do not mean the words I speak, why is this?” He asked lowly, skimming his hands up the outside of your thighs, resting them at your waist.

To say that you felt flustered would be an understatement. Elrond stared up at you with determined curiosity, a soft seriousness that would make anyone feel cared for, that their words mattered more than life itself. The weight of his hands on your hips was unfamiliar, yet so comfortable, though that was not surprising. This was Elrond, after all. He was impossibly kind and purposeful at the worst of times, a dependable elf beyond measure and in all your years of friendship he had not once seen fit to slight you in any way.

Yes, friendship, because the question of more had always seemed impossible to ask, and thus been unanswered. 

“We are friends, Elrond, I—”

“You are right” he interrupted, removing his hands from your body and sitting back against the chair, “Forgive me”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes as his head dropped back, sighing deeply. You didn’t know what the appropriate thing to do was in this specific scenario, but the dirt that he had smeared over his cleared skin was demanding your attention.

“Do not do that” you instructed quietly, taking the dirty hand from his face and sighing deeply as you looked upon it.

You wrung out the cloth into another basin and returned it to the fresh water, then brought it to his hand, kneeling by his side. You felt the weight of his gaze on you as you wiped the dirt from his skin, but refused to indulge in it. It was selfish to seek anything from him in this moment, when he was so broken, in need of someone to care for him.

“You are tired” he observed correctly again. He had always been able to read you far more easily than you were comfortable with.

“Everyone in this valley is tired” you deflected.

“I am not concerned with them at the moment” he spoke resolutely. You finally met his eyes, and the way they shone with intent set your stomach alive, “this is unnecessary. You require rest” 

“Please” you pleaded quietly, “just— let me do this for you, just for this one time” 

He exhaled softly, looking upon you with a pitiful expression as he raised his clean palm to your jaw. His thumb swiped across your cheek, but he pulled away almost right away. “I will…” he trailed off, taking hold of your forearm, “but I won’t have you stationed at my feet like this”

He pulled you up, and then directed you to sit on the arm of the chair, laying your legs across his lap. You obliged, your voice stuck in your throat, and his arm wound around your waist, splaying his palm against your lower back to steady you. 

He gave you a gentle smile, “you may continue, if you wish” 

You nodded, and took his other hand, quickly wiping away every inch of dirt that covered it until you reached the edge of his armour, where the skin was untouched by grime. You then raised the cloth to his neck, and much to your surprise, Elrond dropped his head back with a pensive sigh as his eyes slid closed. Watching every movement he made as you cleaned him, you became more and more entranced. His hand slid to your hip as you ran the cloth under his ear, earning another uneasy exhale, and when you reached the lip of his armour, dragging the white material just below the surface of his tunic, a small shudder wracked his body. 

You had finished your work now, the visage that was once covered by dirt was clean, shining brilliantly in the low candlelight of the tent. Elrond still laid with his head back, and the exposed skin of his neck was all too tempting, beckoning you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and drawing another shaky breath from him. With the confidence that your touch was affecting him in the way you had thought, you took a leap of faith.

His skin was soft under your lips as you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and Elrond’s grip on your hip tightened, his breath stuttering. You placed another gentle kiss against him, this time to the column of his throat, and you watched as it bobbed in reply. Elrond’s other hand now securely held your thigh, tracing circles into fabric of your tunic, and you continued to gently press your lips to his neck, slowly exploring the skin that was now exposed to you.

“Melnā” he whispered in a soft exhale, and you felt your blood running hot. 

“What is it, meleth nín?” you murmured against him, continuing to litter his skin with affection.

Elrond’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he was silent, his breath coming out in shallow pants, as if trying not to be heard. You paused your movements, and awaited his answer. 

“I am not sure you understand what you are doing to me”

You raised your head at his assertion, meeting his dark gaze head on and trying to contain the embarrassment you felt, “I shall stop, we never need mention this again”

Elrond shook his head. “You misunderstand me” he said, sitting up so his forehead met yours, “I would not want you to do this simply because you felt I needed it” 

You frowned, moving your gaze between his eyes and searching for something you weren’t entirely sure of. “I would not deny that” you spoke quietly, and watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features, “but selfishly, it would not be the sole reason”

His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and for a moment he just stared at you, as if to figure out whether or not the words had really slipped from your lips. His hand left your thigh to hold your jaw, closing his eyes as he leant into you, “it does not bother you?”

“What doesn’t?”

“That I am… different, as you say?” He murmured in reply, lifting his head so his nose gently rubbed against yours. 

“Elrond…” you sighed as you took his face in both hands, and his eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, “you are not capable of the kind of change that would squander my high regards for you, nor quell my affections”

He exhaled, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, “what would you allow me?” 

“Anything” you replied in a whisper, “everything”

Elrond’s arm tightened around you, and his other hooked under your knees as he slowly stood from his seat, taking you with him. He kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over to the bed you had set up, and finally you could see some of the darkness receding from them. If you were to serve as a distraction for him, with nothing given in return, then you would do it gladly, no matter the pain in your heart. You knew it was foolish, to allow yourself to be burned at his stake, but when he treated you so gently, as if you were precious, as if you’d break if he released you, you didn’t seem to care. 

He placed you down on the thin mattress, moving to remove his armour before you protested. “Allow me” you directed him to sit down instead, and knelt in front of him to slip off the pieces of his armour without another word. The process felt almost religious, a ritual of sorts, each piece falling away to reveal his slender form. You stacked the pieces neatly to your side, taking care not to damage the fine craftsmanship, despite it being designed for that express purpose. 

When the last piece was placed down, you finally lifted your eyes back to him. Your insides buzzed with nervous energy, but you couldn’t lose your confidence now, and so you placed your hands on his thighs, sliding them upwards as you raised to your knees. For a moment you just took him in, his weary smile, the tiredness in his eyes, slack jaw. He was so fatigued, and to offer him some semblance of tenderness in this state felt like a monumental privilege. His hands found your body, sitting comfortably at your waist, and you were snapped back into the moment.

“You do not need to do this” he reminded, gently kneading your skin to bring you closer. 

You shook your head, “I want to, if you’ll allow me” 

His expression softened further, “you need not ask, my love”

You nudged his jaw upwards with your nose, planting a kiss just beneath and making his body deflate in relief. You drew a slow path towards his ear as your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. Every movement you made was calculated, a precise act, aimed to release any lingering tension that he held within his body. You tried hard not to lose yourself in his presence, in the natural scent of his skin, in the feel of his breath against your own neck, and succeeded by focusing on every sensation as it arose, keeping yourself present. 

You slowly peeled back his shirt, allowing you access to the skin below, but before you could explore any further, Elrond’s voice cut through the silence.

“Stand for me” he said lowly, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke and causing a shiver to run down your back, desire pooling low in your stomach.

You obliged right away, pushing off of the floor to stand before him. First, he took you calf and slid one shoe from you, and then repeated the action for the other foot. He took hold of the ties that were holding your tunic up and slowly untied you from the material. The fabric slid from your shoulders with ease, pooling around your ankles on the floor. The chill of night, barely concealed by the tent, blew against your bare skin, nipping at you as the edge of self-consciousness did in the same moment. You were bare to Elrond now, and his hands traced down your sides as he took in the sight, a certain reverence to his gaze that sent your mind towards puzzlement.

As his hands reached your thighs, he pulled you slowly towards him, positioning you over him so you straddled his lap. Before you could continue the exploration of his skin, his own lips made contact with your shoulder, and he littered kisses downwards along your collarbone, languid motions that made your head spin. You breath caught in your throat as his hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh, and you let out a choked exhale when you felt his fingers dip between your folds. Your head fell forwards, resting your forehead against his shoulder as he continued his efforts, tracing circles around your sensitive bud, which only made your breath heavier and heavier.

You panted his name, disbelief colouring your tone, not expecting him to pay any attention to your needs. It would have been ample to care for him, but receiving it back, you realised just how much you needed it. The battle had been tough on you as well, and the way that your body relaxed under his touch reminded you of that fact.

A small chuckle left his lips at your incredulity. “You did not expect this?” He deduced correctly once again. You couldn’t answer, for the way his fingers expertly played against you was rendering you unable to speak. “You thought I would neglect you in this way?”

“I… n— yes?” you stuttered out unsurely, silenced by your own moan at Elrond doubling his efforts.

“Mm, as I thought” he teased lightly, his voice low as his lips drew near to your ear. You breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your lips sealed for the fear of what sounds might erupt if given the chance. Not trusting yourself to stay quiet, you buried your face in his neck. Elrond hummed disapprovingly, “I want to hear you, pretty one”

Urging you on in his request, Elrond slowly slipped his fingers past your entrance, taking his time to coax every possible ounce of pleasure from you, and earning a shaky moan against his neck. 

“That’s it” he cooed, his other hand kneading the skin of your waist in time with the fingers that worked inside of you, “I have you”

His words reminded you I’m an instant that this was not to be the purpose of this endeavour, and your hand flew to his wrist, pausing his movements. “Elrond, this was supposed to be for your benefit”

Elrond shook his head. “That may have been your intention” he withdrew his fingers a little before sinking them back inside, “but I can see that you are just as weary as I”

“No, I—” your hips twitched forwards instinctively as he picked up his pace, “I insist”

”Do you?” He said in an amused rumble.

You tried to regain authority over your ragged breath, some semblance of control over your body, but Elrond was playing you like a harp. He strummed the strings of your pleasure like he knew the tune by heart, every movement instinctive and adept, swells in dynamic that built up towards a climax. You were getting there quickly far quicker than anticipated. The pads of his fingers pressed against your walls, the base of his palm working your clit, and you could feel everything within you pulling taut.

“Elrond—” his name fell from your lips in a needy whisper.

“What do you need?” He replied quietly, never faltering in his pace.

“I—”

The question confounded you. Never before had you been asked such a thing, not in the height of pleasure at least. Your mind couldn’t wander far given the situation, but for a moment you tried to produce an answer for him.

“Tell me” he urged again, more insistent now, “what do you want?”

“I want—” the minor difference in wording, with the added knowledge of Elrond’s cock straining against his trousers and pressing against your leg, brought the answer to you more readily. “I want… you, Elrond” you breathed out, hips buckling against him to punctuate your point.

An uneasy groan sounded in his throat, reverberating against your cheek as you remained pressed against him. He pulled his fingers from you quickly, and within the next second he had flipped you over so you were beneath him. You reached for the tie of his trousers as he did, eager to remove the final piece of clothing that restricted him from you.

Elrond slotted himself between your legs to the tune of your small whimper, but he paused. His face hovered above you, his eyes flicking between yours, searching. It was as if he was waiting for something, but you couldn’t decipher what.

“You have not kissed me” he muttered, his eyes briefly flicking to your lips before his steadfast gaze returned to yours.

Your eyes widened a little at the observation, unsure of the waters you were about to dip your toe into, “you would let me?”

The expression on Elrond's face as he pulled back was purely scandalised, his brows settled in a deep frown, “whatever do you mean?” 

“I—” you tried to find the words to express what you had previously thought, but now it all sounded ridiculous. 

“You believe I do not—” words failed him in a moment of disbelief, and then his expression softened once more, his palm resting against your cheek, “meleth nín, forgive me for such unkind words, but… you are a fool”

Your brows drew together a little. He had never called you anything of the sort, but knowing him, ever intentional with his words, you didn’t doubt that he was right.

“To doubt my deep affections for you is to deny the very rising and setting of the sun. Do you truly think so lowly of me that I would allow you this without returning your desire in equal measure?”

You could only blink up at him after such a confession, but once his words began to sink in, you realised the depth of your folly. Of course the reverence in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch, was not because anyone was giving him this kind of affection, but because it was you. The thought struck you so suddenly that you became breathless, your cheeks heating. To engage in this act, usually reserved for marriage, he must have more admiration for you than you gave him credit for. Elrond was right, you were a fool.

“I do not” you spoke resolutely, “I have only the highest of regards for you” 

“Then hear me now” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing, “I have waited centuries to embrace you in this way. Every moment in your presence has been excruciating, longing for more than what I thought possible, waiting for the day that you changed your mind about me. Now that the day has finally arrived, I do not intend to spare you such an intimacy without knowing the taste of your lips”

“Elrond…” you whispered, reaching up to mirror his palm against your cheek, “my mind remains unchanged. This is the way I have always felt” 

His eyes widened, a light scoff escaping him in complete surprise, “then we are both fools”

“I believe you may be right” you chuckled at his reaction, you hand tangling in his curls with the reward of a delighted sigh. The look of contentment on his face was enough to melt you into the fabric of the sheet you laid upon. “You are so beautiful, melnā”

Elrond rested his forehead against yours, “what ever beauty I possess pales in comparison to the fortune of looking upon such fair features as yours”

“Such flowery words” you lips quirked, teasing his lyrical ways. 

Elrond chuckled, skimming the pad of his thumb across the skin beneath your eye, “you are worth the time it takes to speak them, my love”

At long last, Elrond brought his lips to yours. He kissed you firmly, deeply, every bit of his usual sincerity woven into the action, and you quickly lost yourself in him as you had aimed to prevent before. His hands roved your body in featherlight touches, mapping the shape of you as his kisses grew more insistent. 

Soon he began to explore past the bounds of your lips, traveling along your jaw. His breath ghosted over your ear, pausing for only a second, before he gently brushed his lips against it. Your breath caught in your throat, almost choking by the uneasy rhythm of it as he grazed his teeth against your earlobe. It was the first time anyone had ever touched your ears, and the gesture was so uniquely intimate, so undeniably pleasurable, that you couldn’t help the way your finger’s tightened in Elrond’s curls. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing his body closer. The both of you moaned in tandem as his hardened length came into contact with your core, Elrond whispering a curse as he buried his face in your neck. He repeated the action with more intention, taking hold of his cock to run it through your folds, slick with arousal. Your breath shortened as he circled your clit with the tip, your mind becoming hazier. Elrond lifted his head and pressed his forehead to yours, and you felt his shaky breath against your lips. The question was clear in his eyes, asking for your permission, and you tightened your legs around him to reply. 

His tip passed your entrance, stretching you open in the most pleasant way. The melody of your moans only intensified as he slowly sank into you, his hand gripping your hip tightly. His eyes were screwed shut, and he swore under his breath again, his lips brushing yours in the process. He released his hand from your hip, smoothing over the skin that he had held so tightly, as if to soothe any hurt he had caused. If he had, you hadn’t noticed.

Elrond pulled out almost completely, before he sank back in with a slow roll of his hips. He set a steady pace at first, both of you just revelling in the feel of being so connected, so close. He brought his lips to yours once more, taking his time to really taste you, to feel every movement so deeply. 

His hands smoothed down your sides as he pulled away slightly to gaze down at you, goosebumps raising under his touch. “You are so perfect” he spoke reverently, his tone nothing short of worshipping, and you could feel your cheeks flush, even now. The change in angle had your back arching, and as a heavy moan left your lips, Elrond gripped your hips tightly again. It seemed that something in him snapped after that, any restraint that he had demonstrated melted away, and letting what desire coursed through his veins take ahold of him.

His pace was fracturing then, his breath heavy against your skin as he leaned over to paint affection across your collarbone and chest. His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen, taking a path downwards that had you already writhing at the anticipation. He drew tight circles around your clit, and combined with the feel of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting the deepest parts of you, you were ready to come undone in a matter of seconds.

“That’s it, meleth nín. Let go for me” he whispered against your ear, the added sensation of his lips against the sensitive area making your orgasm rip through you almost immediately. 

Your vision blurred, white hot bliss searing through your veins as you were pushed over the edge, and Elrond followed you over, letting out a low grunt as he spilled all of himself inside of you. He held himself over you as he regained his breath, meeting your eyes again and letting a fatigued grin lift his lips, his eyelids heavy.

You pulled him down and into a slow kiss, your hands on the back of his neck, gently tugging at the curls at the base of his head. He brought his forehead to yours as you broke the kiss, and wound an arm around your waist to hold you tightly to him. 

“You know…” he began, something playful in his eyes, mouth twitching with a smirk, “in the eyes of some, this would make us husband and wife”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I could live with people believing that”

Elrond hummed amusedly, gently tracing his nose along yours in a tender gesture. “Do not think of this as my proposal” he murmured, “one day, I shall ask you properly” 

[notmorbid]

all-night pharmacy.

dialogue prompts from all-night pharmacy by ruth madievsky.

you're so alive, it's scary.

being a person doesn't come naturally for me.

what's the deal with this place?

you are my best and my worst friend.

are we horrible people?

i like the idea of having someone to come home to.

i can't tell if you're being cruel or if you're just dumb.

these aren't the decisions of a well-adjusted person.

the less you know about my life, the better.

everyone here is a liar and a cheat.

you deserve to have a life of your own.

a person can't be held responsible for what they don't know.

all relationships are transactional.

no one should have that much power over you.

it isn't too late to come back.

you're uninvited from my birthday party.

i love you, but you're such a cunt.

who do you think you are?

forced intimacy makes me lightheaded.

i know you're in there. let me in.

jesus. why do you have a knife?

what happened last night?

it was less embarrassing to pretend i didn't care.

maybe i'm not the mothering type.

i wish i could carry some of this pain for you.

i need a break from feeling so much all the time.

sometimes i can't tell if i'm asleep or awake.

whatever's going on, we'll figure it out.

i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared all the time.

this is the most i can imagine for myself.

if you're not asking yourself 'am i ruining my life?' at least once a day, you're not living at all.

you act like you're over it, but it's okay if you're not.

all my life, i've felt like a dead animal with its skin still on.

it's a virtue to rid yourself of anything that doesn't serve you.

i've never had a day of rest in my life.

i chase after you like a dog, leaving pieces of myself behind, and every time, you act like that's how it's supposed to be.

you don't take me seriously. i'm not a real person to you.

i can't play house anymore.

never say that name in front of me.

to you, other people are always the problem.

you can't reach a mutual understanding without spilling blood.

want to make fifty bucks?

the only way to really see a person is to lose everything you have in common.

you don't think we'll get caught?

our loyalty is to story, not reality.

just don't do anything that could result in a lawsuit or a tmz article, and you're fine.

i don't have the energy to keep up with your antics.

our most beloved delusion was that lying to each other was a kind of love.

speaking our fears aloud won't save us.

one day, the mask slipped. i haven't been able to wear it since.

i try not to think about my life at all.

a junkie can spot another junkie without a flashlight.

your voice reminds me of wool sweaters.

boundaries? i don't know her.

i'm just sick of doing the same goddamn thing every day.

you are obsessed with a projection that will never love you back.

think of me as a spiritually connected friend.

i know liars. you don't strike me as one.

you have iconically poor judgment.

has anyone ever told you about your past lives?

you're capable of tolerating a lot. frankly, more than you should.

friendship can be a slow burn. you don't have to consume it like a drink at last call.

i'll give you a clue. i work for myself.

you make me want to feel things again.

criticism is still a cousin of attention.

you don't have to pretend to like something just because i made it.

i know you crave being told what to do.

you don't have to settle for being a person things happen to.

you have desires. act on them.

bitch, does this look like an intro to philosophy seminar?

i thought i had quit you.

my favorite. how did you know?

i feel like my organs are cannibalizing each other.

how did i get here? that's not a rhetorical question. i'm actually asking.

i can't tell if i believe it, or if i'm making excuses for myself.

sometimes i wonder if it's healthy how much meaning you see in things.

you're always waiting for the universe to hurt you or to love you. usually in that order.

that's how it was in my family. reading the room was a survival skill.

where will all the animals go in the rapture?

a bunch of fuckups under one roof doesn't constitute a family.

my little saint.

time passes more slowly as a sober person.

you'd better not pull away from me now.

there's a russian proverb that goes, 'so much is ruined by saying it aloud'.

you wear your emotions like a name tag.

your resting face frightens me.

how are you both the most innocent and the most experienced person i've ever met?

i need you to just be here with me.

our dead deserve to see you happy.

i like the idea of being marked by you.

i don't know what i saw, but it was more than i wanted.

i know what i saw.

i can't tell which of the memories are real, if any.

i can't believe you're mine.

nobody warned me how terrifying it is to get what you want.

you're cute when you're freaked out.

sex is supposed to be unsettling.

there are things i need to atone for.

you can't go back like it's nothing.

i won't live in service of my dead's vision for me.

___ was a real person. a murder isn't a metaphor.

count five things you can see. four things you can touch. three things you can hear. two things you can smell. one thing you can taste.

banish one god, and you'll end up worshiping another.

i want to be with you, but i don't want to keep feeling like this.

you know everything about me, but you won't let me know you.

you aren't someone i can keep at a distance.

i've been reading about intergenerational curses.

resisting something isn't the same as not wanting it.

anything you say stays between us.

i can't decide if i like you.

most people only possess a third of the empathy they think they have.

will it get easier?

hope is a tricky thing: losing it is bad, but so is having too much.

i don't want the future to come. i have a bad feeling about it.

in cartoons, you don't start falling until you look down.

why are you here? where have you been?

how did you know i'd come looking for you?

you never asked what i was going through. you didn't want to know.

i didn't have the language for what was happening to me.

you were supposed to protect me.

there's a lot i don't remember. a lot i don't want to remember.

i wouldn't have looked for me, either.

we belong to ourselves now.

you know where i am, and i know where you are. maybe that's enough.

when i'm down, vigilante justice makes me feel better.

survival is provisional.

[vincentsambershades]

How not to tame a dragon

Cregan Stark x Targ!fem!reader

Summary: when Cregan Stark informs his Targaryen bride that she cannot bring her mount with her to Dorne, all hell breaks loose.

(I usually avoid writing since English is not my native language (be warned). I was, however, inspired by some hotd-fics from my favourite creators and wanted to write something fun, about our favourite northern man, mister cregan, which I'm actually pretty proud of. So here it goes.)

Word count: 2.5k-2.6k

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, fingering, p in v, tiny bit of breeding kink, flufffffff

When Cregan Stark was first presented with the young Targaryen princess he didn't fail to notice the fire that erupted from within her. A fire caused by her close attachment to her dragon. Her Cannibal, albeit frightening, had served the both of them well enough after their wedding. And even though Cregan was hesitant to ride on dragonback, his wife had charmed him in doing so relatively early in their marriage. 

 In spite of how much Cregan admired the beast, as well as the bond between his bride and her mount, there were moments when he wished he hadn't been married to a Dragonrider. 

The princess was used to roaming Westeros with her loyal travel companion. Therefore, when the time had come for the newly wed couple to head to Dorne, in order to manage 'certain financial and commercial matters', as her husband had called them, Cregan prevented her from bringing her beloved dragon along. He insisted that a dragon, despite being a sign of force and power, would create an intimidating environment that would leave no room for impartial negotiation. He was right of course, as always, but the wrath of the dragon was easy to provoke.

"Cannibal is coming with us to Dorne! The cold of the North is no good for him! The heat will soothe him!" she was red in the face and as terrifying as the wild thing she had managed to tame. 

"My love, you know we cannot travel with a dragon to Dorne, bringing your beast along will only serve as provocation which we cannot afford!" said Cregan only fuelling his wife's fury.

"This is outrageous!" she looked almost as if she intended to feed him to the dragon.

No direwolf would ever be able to save him from that fate.

She didn't speak to him for at least two weeks after that. 

Around that time, their journey to Dorne began.

After long hours of travelling, as night was setting, time had come for them to rest and as Cregan helped his men set out camp for the night, his wife was taking a stroll near the frozen river. She was wrapped in more furs than he could count and looked as if she would tumble over from their weight any moment now.

She would appear comical had it not been for that sour expression on her face. 

Separating her from her dragon seemed to toll on her more and more as the days passed. Her denial to exchange more words with him, other than 'Good Morrow' and occasionally 'Good night', didn't seem to improve her mood either. 

It didn't matter to her that she missed him. The princess wanted for her husband to be the first, out of the two, to break. She wanted for him to seek her out, chase her and claim her all over again. 

Cregan needed her too. He had always known that half her heart belonged to her dragon. That was what happened with all Targaryens.

He had come to terms with that.

Yet, there were moments, like this when the mere view of his beautiful wife had him hoping that he owned at least some part of her heart. 

He felt silly. He knew that their marriage was a political arrangement. Her father had established that when the match was made. However, Cregan couldn't help but feel lucky to have found a match in the princess, their chemistry was undeniable and their times together were filled with all the passion other political marriages lacked. There was mutual understanding in their marriage. 

Cregan shook these thoughts and concentrated on the task ahead. So called traders from Dorne had been entering his borders and tormenting villages on his coastlines. Of course, the Lord had tried to diplomatically remove them from his land but when the situation became unbearable and his ambassadors came back empty handed, he knew it was time for a formal visit to the far South. He had been tempted to use his wife's creature in order to intimidate them, but the thought of causing further commotion, when the throne was so vulnerable, prevented him from doing so. For a Stark, Cregan's will to maintain the peace was greater than his thirst for battle. 

Cregan was lost in his thoughts as the men sat around the fire, passing around carafes of ale to warm them during the cold night. It took his companions quite a bit of convincing, but he finally accepted to take a swing. 

"To keep you warm, Lord." insisted the man who was sitting on his right. Cregan took the carafe, offering the man a grateful smile, and drank generously. 

Instead of downing more, he wrapped his coat tighter around him and relaxed while watching the flames. Cregan managed to lose himself in the moment. He didn't know what it was, the easy atmosphere or his companions' laughter, but something warm bloomed in his chest. How he had missed travelling. Roaming the North with his friends as the moonlight illuminated them.

It felt even better this time. Because in this particular occasion, he had her to share it with. His stubborn little wife. His fierce dragon rider.

And that was when it hit him.

Cregan realised he hadn't seen her in more than an hour. The last time his eyes had fallen on her, she was wandering around, kicking the snow with her feet. He didn't think she had headed for the woods, he knew she wasn't that careless. Before they began their journey he had, after all, made sure to inform her of all the dangers they might come across, wolves, bears and other animals humans shouldn't meddle with. Therefore, she had to be in their shared tent. 

"What is it Lord?" the man turned to him again. Cregan attempted to hide the worry off his voice. 

"Have you seen my Lady around?" 

"I fear I haven't, Lord, she must be resting." offered the man with a toothy grin that did nothing to ease Cregan's worry. 

Cregan rose to his feet swiftly, turning on his heels and heading to the tent where he found nothing but an untouched bed and a trunk he himself had placed there. He exited the narrow space, searching for any sign of his wife. His vision, despite being acute, served him little in the moment and the full moon, albeit helpful, didn't shine enough light upon the heavy snow. His mind ran several miles an hour, considering all the possible paths the princess could've taken. He began his search without being in control of where his feet took him until he reached the river. He looked for footprints but found none. Even if she had taken that route, the fresh snow would've covered her tracks.

His train of thought was rudely interrupted by a crack on the ice that had gathered at the edges of the river. The sound of the rapture was followed by a splash in the cold water and a womanly scream, one that undoubtedly belonged to his wife.

He followed the direction of the sound only to be met with the sight of the princess' attempt at defying the coldness of the river and swimming to the surface. Without second thought, Cregan rid himself of his fur coat, keeping on his less warm leather attire. He placed the heavy coat to the side and got in the freezing water aiming for his wife. She was easy to identify, even in the dim moonlight, and so he reached for her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her out, letting her limp body rest against the snow covered ground but only long enough for him to pull his dry furs on top of her soaked ones. After she was securely wrapped in them, he carried her unconscious back to the untouched bed he had prepared for her. 

"You stupid girl..." he scolded her while peeling her clothes off and leaving them near the fire to dry. Despite being close to the fire and covered in all the blankets Cregan could find, she was still shivering. "The blood of the dragon is not enough to keep you warm after all..." she had awakened during this time and was aware of everything he threw at her. 

Had she been in her senses, she would've jumped at him for daring to question the fire in her veins. But she was weak and defeated as she watched him pull his own clothes off. 

He knew there was only one way to warm her up fast and that was body heat. And no matter how mad she had been at him for the past two weeks, she couldn't help but feel grateful as he covered himself in the blankets and pulled her to him. His arms found their place around her waist and she buried her face in the crook of his neck inhaling the manly scent of him. He started running his fingers up her back, all the way to her damp hair, and down again, just above her rear. He grabbed her thigh, hiking her leg over his hip and drawing her closer. His fingers found her front and caressed the skin below her bellybutton, tentatively delving lower. She heaved a sigh, her now hot breath hitting his neck as he let his urges overtake him. 

His hand found its place between her thighs. She was warm there. Warm and soft. He dipped his fingers in her delicate folds, finding her oversensitive bud and circling it. They hadn't coupled in a while and his desire for her was driving him crazy.  

"Cr-Cregan..." she whimpered and for a moment he thought she was hesitant. That thought, however, didn't plague him for long. When he pulled away to look at her face, to search for a negative reaction, he saw her pouty lips regaining their colour and her eyes reddened with unshed tears and clouded with want, pleading for him to finally touch her. 

"Please, please, please-" as much as he usually enjoyed her begging him to take her, he was quick to stop her whimpering by capturing her lips in a kiss. His lips felt hot against hers and as he replaced his index finger with his thumb on her pearl, reaching lower and teasing her entrance, she gasped offering him the perfect chance to deepen the kiss. His fingers felt heavenly inside her, pumping in and out of her always hitting the rough spot that Cregan knew made her see stars. 

Even with his fingers inside her and his length, brushing against her lower stomach, the kiss was his personal way of reclaiming her, swallowing her whole. 

She reached her smaller hand between their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him as he sat hot and heavy in her palm. 

She pulled away and her slack expression, lust filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips could have made him peak at that instant. 

"I want you inside of me, now." she stated and how could he refuse her. Especially when she looked so eager, practically begging him to fill her. 

He was quick to pull his fingers out of her, leaving her with an empty feeling. She didn't complain though, not when the sight of him getting on top of her and settling between her thighs had rendered her speechless.

He lowered his hips, reaching between his legs to tease her with his tip before entering her in one forceful thrust. She let out a yelp and choked out a moan.

The feeling of him long and thick, stretching her out after weeks of refusing him couldn't compare to anything. 

Except, perhaps, for the feeling of her, wet and warm and tight, around her husband. Cregan swore there was no other woman besides his wife that felt so perfect. 

Her tears, from how intense their lovemaking was, had Cregan remembering their first time together, right after their wedding feast when he had her lay on silk sheets, broken her maidenhead and molded her to him. 

"Cregan I need to-need to-" she tried to say while Cregan delivered licks and bites to the sensitive skin of her neck. 

"What do you need, my girl?" he thrust in her hard and fast, the way she liked it as his lips landed on her breast, sucking lovemarks and taking her nipple in his mouth, making her moan loud enough for everyone around to hear. 

"I n-need to peak, please!" she managed and who was he to deny her wishes. He led his fingers to her pearl, rubbing it while hitting her sweet spot. 

"Suck a good girl for me, begging me for her peak. Do it, I want to feel you come apart on my cock" he commanded her and not long after that her climax hit her. She held onto him, her nails digging into his biceps as he kept his unrelenting pace. His murmurs of 'that's it' and 'good girl' were muffled by her hair. Endless mantras of his name left her lips as she rode out her orgasm, her hips moving involuntarily against his own. 

"Do you want me to spill in you, uh, my love?" he asked almost mockingly as his thrusts grew uneven, a sign he was close.

"Sp-spill in me Cregan!" she yelped as he continued to abuse her insides. Her husband groaned at her lustful pleas, grabbing her face and forcing her to look him in the eye.

"I will, sweet girl. I will spill in you, make you round with my pup. You would like that, wouldn't you?" Cregan came apart with a satisfied moan, his warmth filling her and then running down her thighs as he grew soft and pulled out.

He didn't leave her side after that. He laid beside her, instead of on top of her, and pulled her to him. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath and Cregan placed reassuring kisses to her forehead.

After a few moments of utter silence, he heard her sniffle and mutter something against his throat. He soon came to realise she was apologizing. He gave her a questioning look, wondering what she had to apologize for.

"I'm sorry for avoiding you for two weeks, it was stupid and immature of me and I'm so so-" he silenced her with a kiss to which she responded quickly.

"You have nothing to apologise for." Her expression was hopeful. "I understand what it is like to be parted from something or someone you've truly set your heart to. That's what staying away from you felt like" she gave him a nod before letting his words truly set in. Her confusion painted her face a scarlet red and her anticipation was later imprinted in her voice.

"What are you saying?" she questioned and he sighed softly, cupping her cheek and wholly giving into her.

"I love you infinitely, my fierce dragon princess. And you needn't say it back. Not unless it's your truth." a weak smile formed on her lips.

"I love you too, have loved since I married you, before that even." her cries ceased. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, inviting him to her. "I love you my wild man from the North, my wolf." he laughed at that, an honest heartfelt laugh, the vibrations of which she felt against her own chest, and proceeded to kiss her.

Cregan kissed his dragon princess like his life depended on it.

[snufkinsong]

This is going to be a more serious post, about (yes) seals.

It is warming my heart to see so many people celebrating the birth of Yo's baby. She is the seal that made me fall in love with pinnipeds a few years ago, and she is also where I got my social media namesake on the godforsaken hellhole that is twitter. I hope some old twitter mutuals might see this and guess who I am haha (besides the friends who I've stayed in touch with beyond twt like @seaps who is the sweetest ever).

Anyways, for anyone who isn't familiar with Yo and her history, I am going to rehash and paraphrase/shorten my old "yo biography" that I put in a hidden page on my neocities website a while ago. She is a ringed seal who resides at the Okhotsk Tokkari Center, one of Japan's only marine mammal rehabilitation and rescue centers. Yo was rescued in Rausu town on May 3rd at the age of approximately one month and two weeks old at the beginning of the May of 2011. Like many rescued seals, she was found separated from her mother and needing care.

Yo's name was officially announced on September 5th, 2011, after accepting suggestions from July 22nd to August 21st. According to the Tokkari center website "The name comes from the idea that "we hope she grows up healthy like the sun."

I want you all to know that Yo has been a mama for a while now. Hikaru was born in 2018. Her keepers didn't know she was pregnant, but were surprised one day to find little Hikaru worming around on the floor as baby ringies do. Hikaru means "shining light."

"Hikaru, just as his name suggests, was a shining light to everyone and grew up to be very healthy."

She tragically lost her baby Hikaru in 2021. This letter in his memory is one of the things that solidified my appreciation for the caretakers at the Tokkari Center. You can also read about the details of his life and passing here.

It is titled

To Hikaru in heaven: A message from former zookeeper Masako Okazaki about the love nurtured between a seal and a human

The final words say:

My beloved Hikaru, thank you for being born.

I cannot speak to how much animals may feel grief. I hope Yo, as a seal, did not have to feel the pain of losing her baby as her caretakers and the people who grew familiar with Hikaru did. (If you would like to see videos of him, I highly recommend checking out the account of my insta mutual hakuhime_az. He loved to sing by making little hoo hoo noises. Yo made hoo hoo noises as a very small baby according to an old blog post I read, but Hikaru never grew out of it! Some Hikaru singing videos should be on her profile if you scroll enough!)

Nonetheless, it makes my heart warm to see Yo fiercely protecting her new pup this year. Seeing her able to raise another baby, I feel full. Just know that she has been a strong and feisty mom for a longer time than you might have thought :)

On that note, let's all enjoy the adorable videos and photos of her and her little baby, and please do not repost the videos and photos of photographers and videographers without permission. (Azara's typically have messages in their sns bios asking people not to do this)

I love animals and appreciating how they care for each other.

[threebooksoneplot]

what draws you both to jalice/makes you so feral about them as a ship?

you should know we had an entire meeting in order to answer this ask. no this could NOT have been an email (unlike new moon) 🤭

Secretary G took notes. they are as follows (read the bolded parts for a tl;dr)

we kind of see it as though jalice got the traits that edbella weren’t allowed to have, either due to their status as protagonists or because smeyer's mormon background causes her to view these qualities as too sinful/negative for her wholesome Waiting Until Marriage main couple. (examples: alice's materialistic, "shallow," hyperfeminine qualities, her character flaws (especially her manipulativeness), and jasper's aura and history of fucked up violence closer to what you'd find in traditional vampire stories/horror/adult gothics/books not written by a mormon author)

in terms of how much screentime the non-main-love-triangle canon couples get, their relationship is kiiiinda given the next-most weight to edbella’s (examples: jasper's extreme overprotectiveness, the New Moon chapter 19 moment where alice prioritizes jasper and bella is like “yeah I get it, I would do the same.”) basically smeyer gives jalice's relationship a lot of the qualities she finds romantic/ideal, (and which are either similarly romantic to us or entertainingly toxic/a good source of drama), presumably because alice is like her 4th-favorite character after the main love triangle and she wants nice things for her

we both really love how, superficially, as presented in the books, jasper and alice seem to have this almost “courtly love” that smeyer has described as "spiritual." yet when you look closer, their relationship has so many darker undertones—the deep codependency bordering on obsessiveness (mutual, but especially the way it manifests on jasper's end—"I will kill this random teen girl who witnessed edward's jean valjean moment™ because any means are justifiable when the ends are Protecting Alice"), the dark sides of both of their powers, the idea that jasper is only a cullen and/or only a vegetarian for alice's sake, etc. hell, even the fact that they're the only Cullen couple who we know had (gasp) premarital sex 😏 (I mean we assume rosemmett did too, but alas, they don't have that hilarious "carlisle convinced jasper and alice to get married" quote from smeyer)

partially summarized: "jasper’s general desperate willingness to sell everyone to satan for one corn chip if it keeps alice safe (carlisle: I know this and I love you)"

we're forever smug that the movies gave us even more jalice screentime (especially remarkable in such a protagonist-centric universe), including jasper being in the same grade as alice/bella/edward, and the extra jalice kisses in Eclipse and BD 🥺

what we wrote down as the “who’s protecting whom" phenomenon, as coined by G in this old ask. (shannon: "jasper is the toddler you've given the PS2 controller that's not plugged in")

we also like the characters individually. jasper is for the girlies with competency kinks—a stoic caretaker who speaks little and mostly expresses himself via acts of service. we also both love the way in which he needs protection from his own uncontrolled violence (slipping up and killing humans, suffering the pain and fear he inflicts, etc.) he is, in the words of our beloved @liceparade, the "line cook trauma boyfriend"

“It’s hot when there’s a fictional violent man who wet babygirl 😌” —shannon

and alice, unlike bella, genuinely loves being spoiled and bossing people around. she's brat-coded, she's confident and secure in who she is, her god complex ("I'm close enough [to omniscient]") causes fascinating conflict, bella eats drywall from sheer horniness at her merest movement, she dresses like a slut in the Mormon YA Novels and yet somehow escapes authorial condemnation, she has a sickass gothic heroine backstory, she's "annoying," aro started a whole war over her (eat shit helen of troy 🖕), she spaces out in public and has to be led around by jasper, she's one of the most powerful vampires in the world, she's in high school getting a C+ on her precalc test 💅🏻

it's appealing that smeyer frequently puts alice in the center of the series' various conflicts (james' singer and "one that got away," the accidental cause of all the drama at the end of new moon, one of aro's secret True motives for starting the conflict in BD.) this is mostly as a consequence of smeyer using alice as a plot device and/or deus ex machina, but it is in fact interesting

is alice jasper's morality chain? we love pondering this question via fic, meta, etc (especially because...alice ain't exactly a model of ethical behavior herself)

together, the two of them exhibit lots of classic tropes. they're grumpy x sunshine, chatty x silent, opposites attract, etc. to say nothing of that height difference 🥵

we love the yin/yang symbolism of a character with a horrific past paired with a character with NO memory of her past, who is focused on the future and all about potential. not to invoke an ancient phrase but POETIC CINEMA

the next note just says “POTENTIAL in general.” I assume we meant how all of the above stuff creates potential for interesting stories, conflicts, metas, art, fic, etc

G has brought this up in the past, but we love the irony of jasper, a character whose chief desire is to be left in peace, being soul-alteringly in love with the one character who will always be a giant glaring target through no fault of her own. hilarious