#the chaos of her texting is hurting my soul

[yolobloggers]

Forever After Goodbye (II)

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

~A/N: Dear Readers,

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

~You can refresh on the story here:

The Last Goodbye

Forever After Goodbye (I) - Klaus Mikaelson

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

~Warning: Swearing.

~Third Person POV:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Later, in the Drawing Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The room fell silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Gifs credits goes to the rightful owners)

~Tags~

~The Last Goodbye:

@thefandomplace

@a--1--1--3

@misselsbells06

~The Vampire Diaries/The Originals & Supernatural:

@akshi8278

~The Vampire Diaries:

@sparklesmolwarriorprincess

[0piumlol]

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: None, just chaos and Jimin being a lovable menace

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Crack, Friends-to-Lovers

Summary: You never should have let Taehyung talk you into taking that stupid soulmate test. Now Jimin, the most dramatic menace to ever exist, refuses to let it go. Forced into ridiculous dates, relentless flirting, and one too many soulmate-themed activities, you start to wonder: maybe, just maybe, the test wasn’t so wrong after all.

---

### **Chapter 1: The Stupid Quiz That Started It All**

You should have known better than to trust Kim Taehyung.

It had started as a normal night—video games, snacks, and Jungkook screaming in defeat as you obliterated him in Mario Kart. But then, as you basked in victory, Taehyung leaned over with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“Guys,” he said, grinning, “we *have* to take this test.”

“What test?” you asked, already wary.

“This ‘Are You Soulmates?’ quiz,” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows, turning his phone around to show a BuzzFeed-style website. “It calculates your compatibility based on *highly scientific* questions.”

Jimin, lounging next to you, snorted. “Scientific, my ass.”

“Shut up, just take it.”

You leaned closer, scanning the first question: **"Which potato dish speaks to your soul?"**

“Oh, yeah. Super scientific,” you deadpanned.

But Taehyung was relentless. “Come on. Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jimin smirked. “You get paired with me and fall madly in love.”

“More like I set my laptop on fire,” you muttered.

“Wow,” Jimin clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “That *wounded* me.”

Still, for reasons you would never understand, you gave in. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

You both grabbed your phones, answering increasingly ridiculous questions. **Favorite movie genre? Biggest pet peeve? What color gives off ‘main character energy’?** You clicked at random.

It wasn’t *real*, after all.

Until—

**"100% MATCH! CONGRATULATIONS, SOULMATES!"**

Silence.

Jimin stared at the screen. You stared at the screen. Taehyung *howled* in laughter.

“Oh,” Jimin breathed, eyes wide with delight. “Oh, this is perfect.”

“No, this is rigged,” you argued, pointing at the flashing heart animation. “It’s a scam. A joke. A—”

“—A declaration of our fated love?” Jimin finished, beaming.

You groaned.

And that was the beginning of the end.

---

### **Chapter 2: The Menace Awakens**

You should have known Jimin wouldn’t let it go.

The next morning, you woke up to a text.

**Jimin (7:02 AM):** Good morning, my fated one ✨

**Jimin (7:03 AM):** Did you dream of me? I dreamed of us frolicking in a field of roses.

**You (7:05 AM):** Stop texting me this early or I’ll make you dream of my fists.

**Jimin (7:06 AM):** So feisty. I love that about you. Truly, fate has chosen well.

By the time you met up with your friends, Jimin had taken it *several* steps further.

“Everyone,” Jimin announced, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “I have an important announcement.”

Taehyung and Jungkook, the devils who had encouraged this chaos, smirked in anticipation.

“We,” Jimin continued dramatically, “are soulmates.”

Jin choked on his drink.

Yoongi blinked. “From that dumb quiz?”

“*Highly scientific* quiz,” Jimin corrected. “And yes. We got a perfect score.”

You groaned. “I’m going to commit a crime.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder in sympathy. “Just don’t make it murder.”

Jimin, unfazed, turned to the group. “Anyway, as soulmates, it is my duty to woo her properly.”

Jungkook perked up. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

And thus began the worst (and possibly most entertaining) era of your life.

---

### **Chapter 3: The Forced Dates Begin**

Jimin was relentless.

It started with small things. Holding doors open. Pulling out chairs. Dramatically sighing “Ah, my *beloved*” whenever you entered a room.

But then—

**The forced dates began.**

Date #1: **The “Accidental” Candlelit Dinner**

Jimin “accidentally” ordered an extra meal and dramatically insisted you share it. “It’s *fate*,” he claimed, shoving a fork at you. “The universe wants us to eat together.”

Date #2: **The Ferris Wheel Incident**

Somehow, Jimin tricked you into sharing a Ferris wheel carriage. The moment it stopped at the top, he turned to you with the most dramatic look. “Now’s the part where we confess our feelings.”

You shoved popcorn into his mouth.

Date #3: **The “Hand-Holding Practice”**

Jimin insisted on lacing your fingers together “to get used to soulmate energy.” You let it happen just to shut him up, but—*damn it*—his hands were warm.

Date #4: **The Rain Scene™**

Of course, it had to rain when you were stuck outside. And of course, Jimin had to pull you under an umbrella, way too close, his stupidly soft voice murmuring, “This feels like a drama, doesn’t it?”

You blamed the rain for why your heart skipped a beat.

---

### **Chapter 4: Maybe, Just Maybe…**

At some point, you stopped resisting.

You stopped questioning why Jimin always made you laugh, why your bickering felt like a dance, why his teasing never really annoyed you.

Because somewhere between his ridiculous antics and forced dates—

You started *liking* it.

Liking *him*.

And maybe, just *maybe*, the quiz wasn’t so wrong after all.

---

### **Chapter 5: The Not-So-Fake Ending**

It wasn’t until your friends set you up on one last “fake” date that you finally admitted it.

“You know,” Jimin murmured, leaning on the café table, “we never really proved the test *wrong*.”

You sighed. “I hate that you have a point.”

Jimin grinned. “So, what do you say?” He tilted his head, softer now. “Maybe we give fate a real shot?”

You stared at him, at the boy who had turned a dumb quiz into something real.

Then, with a dramatic sigh, you smirked. “Fine. But only because you’re a menace and I need to keep an eye on you.”

Jimin beamed. “I *knew* you loved me.”

And maybe, just *maybe*, you did.

---

[donquixotehomura]

Dracule Mihawk x Reader “Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Angst, Hurt no comfort, just me feeling sadistic one day and writing it down

Master List

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

“wow… you're pretty” was the first thing she said to him when they met, not at all the usual that he heard, he did get compliments from women who wanted to get into his bed, but this was not a usual statement.

………………………

She confused him to no end, she didn't want to fight him, kiss up to him, get into his bed, get a favour, what's up with this woman?, he could feel her very obviously staring at him across the room, looking at her making eye contact she smiled and waved ‘odd woman’ 

………………………

“Yo! Can we be friends?” Excuse me? He looked at her as she said that, her smile radiant “pardon?” “friends! You're cool and I like how you are, let's be friends!” she said again totally ignoring the semi glare that would scare most people away, what an odd woman. 

 …………………….

“I wanna go with you! I hate it here, I want to be with you!” Mihawk looked at her, she had chased him across the garden of the extravagant palace on his way out ”you can't… This is where you belong, not on the seas” there was no safety on the seas it was dangerous for her “I don't care! I wanna go with you and I won't change my mind, either you'll let me go with you or I'll follow you on my own!” stubborn woman… (Y/N) had no experience sailing on her own, especially in the terrible storm that seemed to have covered the island representing the turbulent future, Mihawk looked at her, she had the most serious look on her face he'd ever seen not a shred of playfulness or doubt “Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?” What you're giving up? You're giving up everything to be with me“ he argued hoping she'd decide to stay “no I'm not… If I stay here and leave you, I'd be giving up everything for some useless titles and empty things” she said it so clearly, no hesitation, Mihawk was shocked and couldn't even hide it, “alright then… You better not regret it, odd Woman” he turned around to hide the small smile, (Y/N) grinned at the nickname she'd earned since they first met, grabbing the two bags she packed she ran after him to catch up then fell into pace with him.

(Years Later)

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Rain poured down relentlessly, the sky a dark, swirling mass of clouds. The ground was a mix of mud, rain and blood turning the once serene landscape into a battlefield of chaos. (Y/N) laid on her back, her vision blurred and her mind disoriented. The cold, relentless rain mingled with the warmth of her blood, seeping into the ground beneath her.

She struggled to focus, to understand how she had come to be in this state. Flashes of memory pierced through the haze, fragments of moments shared with Dracule Mihawk.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

She saw him in their library, a rare smile touching his lips as he read aloud from an ancient text, his voice a soothing balm to her soul. They would spend hours there, wrapped in the tranquillity of their shared silence, words unnecessary to convey the depth of their bond.

Mihawk sat reading a book on the balcony, a glass of wine in hand as the sun illuminated the sky in the early hours, he felt arms wrap around him, her usual giggle filling his ears “mornin’ love” she mumbled still sleepy, he smiled faintly pulling her to his lap, her head finding place on his chest, eyes closing again “Good Morning, Mi Vida” she just giggled, she loved when he used his mother tongue.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Another memory surfaced, of them curled up together on a stormy night much like this one. The howling wind outside was a stark contrast to the warmth and safety she felt in his arms. His fingers traced gentle patterns on her back, his voice a low murmur as he spoke of dreams and futures they would share.

(Y/N)'s heart ached as she remembered the vulnerability in his eyes during those quiet moments, the way he would let his guard down just for her. The world saw him as the Greatest Swordsman, but to her, he was a man of deep emotions and quiet strength. His words of affection, though rare, were always heartfelt and sincere.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

The memory of his proposal came to her then, vivid and clear amidst the fog of her pain. The setting sun, the ring with its radiant sapphire, and his voice, steady yet filled with emotion as he asked her to be his wife. "Will you marry me?" he had asked, his eyes reflecting a depth of feeling that took her breath away. She had said yes, tears of joy mingling with their embrace.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

A sharp pain brought her back to the present, a reminder of the severity of her injuries. She could feel the life draining from her, her strength ebbing away with each passing moment. Panic tried to take hold, but she pushed it back, focusing instead on the love she felt for Mihawk.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

As her vision dimmed, she sensed a familiar presence. Mihawk was there, his aura a beacon of strength and determination amidst the chaos. She felt his arms around her, lifting her gently from the mud.

"(Y/N)," his voice broke through the haze, filled with an urgency and fear she had never heard before. "Stay with me."

She managed a weak smile, her hand reaching up to touch his face. The rain blurred her vision, but she could still see the worry etched in his features, the desperation in his eyes.

"I can't wait to marry you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.

Tears mingled with the rain on Mihawk's face as he held her close, his grip tightening as if sheer willpower could keep her with him. "You will, (Y/N). You will," he vowed, his voice breaking.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Her world faded to black, but not before she felt the overwhelming love and determination emanating from him. The last sensation she was aware of was the strength of his embrace, the promise of a future together, a future she desperately wanted to see.

---

Mihawk sat motionless, cradling (Y/N)'s lifeless body as the storm raged around them. The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of clashing swords and battle cries, was now eerily silent, save for the relentless downpour and the occasional roll of thunder.

His mind raced, replaying the moments leading up to this tragic end. He had been too late. The ambush, the enemies—he had fought with all his might to reach her in time, but it hadn't been enough. The greatest swordsman in the world, yet powerless to save the woman he loved.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Memories of their time together flooded his mind, each one a dagger to his heart. Their quiet nights reading by the fire, the soft laughter they shared, the dreams they had woven together. The proposal, filled with so much hope and love, now felt like a cruel joke played by fate.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

Mihawk looked down at (Y/N)'s pale face, her eyes closed as if she were merely sleeping. The sapphire ring on her finger sparkled faintly, a heartbreaking reminder of the future they had planned. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand trembling.

"I will find a way," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I will bring you back to me."

But as he sat there, the weight of reality pressed down on him. The wound was fatal, and no amount of skill or strength could undo what had been done. The realisation hit him with the force of a thousand blades, cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

In the depths of his grief, Mihawk made a silent vow. He would honour her memory, he would carry her love with him always, and he would never forget the promise they made to each other. Even in death, their bond would remain unbroken.

As the rain continued to fall, mingling with his tears, Mihawk lifted (Y/N)'s body gently. He would give her the burial she deserved, a final act of love for the woman who had touched his heart in ways no one else ever could.

“Are You Even Aware Of How Dangerous It Is?”

The storm raged on, but in the midst of the darkness, Mihawk held onto the light of their love, a beacon that would guide him through the shadows of his grief. And though the future they had dreamed of would never come to pass, their love would endure, a timeless testament to the strength and beauty of their bond.

So Dangerous that Even I couldn’t Protect You

[masculinepeacock]

the story doesn't touch her

@garcavisconde || Strange Girl, Laura Marling || The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green || Poems, Louise Glück || How Bad I Wanna Live, Maya de Vitry || Ritual is Journey, Chris Abani || @creacherkeeper || The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green || Myth, Amythyst Kiah || @aweega

[Image Description: Ten images of text.

1: *covered in blood* i will.... *trembling* CHOOSE TO BE KIND... *in pain* i will be... NICE to others... *wanting to kill* i will see good in EVERYONE *yielding a knife* i will NOT be like those who hurt me... *screaming* i will be BETTER then who i was..."

2: "My lonely girl // MY angry girl // My brave // I love you, my strange girl".

3: "For many species of large animals in the twenty-first century, the single most important determinant of survival is whether their existence is useful to humans. But if you can't be of utility to people, the second best thing you can be is cute. You need an expressive face, ideally some large eyes. Your babies need to remind us of our babies. Something about you must make us feel guilty for eliminating you from the planet."

4: "My soul has been so fearful, so violent: forgive its brutality."

5: "only place for my heart is the very next step // only place for my hands is holding to the ground around me // i was lost from my body worse than i thought // now i love her more than ever, yeah she's all that i've got".

6: "As you lay dying I asked, What if your biggest regret? // Every kindness withheld, you said. // Every flicker of pleasure denied, you said. // Look, you said, sunlight."

7: "story magic is scared of her and the god of evil death and chaos wants to put her in a jar".

8: "But it's an exceptionally minor vice, and for whatever reason, I've always felt like I need a vice. I don't know whether this feeling is universal, but I have some way-down vibrating part of my subconscious that needs to self-destruct, at least a little bit."

9: "I said, somebody somewhere // will find what's left // Oh yeah // And we'll become a myth, man, // oh man".

10: "characters with prey animal rage // characters with both the abject terror and murderous desperation of an animal that knows it is cornered and destined to be eaten. you just can't get that kind of angst out a successful hunter. but alternatively i posit: predator animal fear. which is a totally different thing". /end ID]

[askdennycotl]

Welcome!

This is an art/text ask blog for my Cult of the Lamb OC.

Rules/Warnings

This is a must-read for everyone!

This blog is not recommended for minors. The blog's age restriction is 16+. This blog may contain graphic and textual images of violence, images of blood, cult themes, suggestive and NSFW content, obscene language. Posts intended for adults will be marked as 18+.

Now you are warned. I'm not responsible for people who ignore warnings and age restrictions.

Everything that happens on the blog is fictional and has nothing to do with reality.

I don't run 18+ rp with people under 18.

I have the full right to control the fate of my character the way I want.

Show basic respect when communicating with the mod.

You can't hurt Denny unless I want you to.

Not all questions will be answered. I usually don't answer questions if they've already lost their meaning in the plot or if I don't know how to answer them. Sometimes I need time to think about the answer, so it takes a while.

Besides this blog, I have my own real life, responsibilities, and other hobbies, so I don't always have time to respond to you.

English is not my native language, so there may be grammatical and spelling errors. Most of the time I use a translator, which sometimes translates incorrectly what I'm trying to say.

About Denny

She was found by the Lamb in the Darkwood.

Denny is an ordinary cultist. She's mainly engaged in farming and prayers at the shrine.

Traits:

Zealous

Pettable

Ascetic

Some facts about Denny

Denny's diary

Denny's diary

oct 30

nov 11

"Denny speaks like this."

"The Shadow/Demon speaks like this."

The actions look like this.

(Mod speaks like this) or like this.

Relationships

The Lamb - The Leader of the cult. Denny deeply respects them.

The Goat - Denny doesn't see them as a Leader and treats them neutrally.

*Jade - Denny's beloved. Currently dating.

*Lopina - Denny's daughter. Despite the fact that Lopina is not her biological daughter, Denny loves her with all her heart.

*Spellcaster - a close friend and mentor in magic.

*Lola - a friend.

Dotty, Briar, Jhon, Nox, Obscurus, Keni, Candy - they can't be called friends yet, but Denny definitely thinks well of them and cares about them too.

Narinder, Sean - neither friends nor enemies.

Silas - neither friends nor enemies. Denny had too little interaction with him to have any opinion.

Flowey - ENEMY. Denny would definitely try to burn that damn flower the next time they met.

'*' - the ones Denny cares about the most. Your relationship with these characters will affect your relationship with Denny.

Lola

Lola is a minor character in this ask blog. She will rarely answer questions and even less often take part in role-playing.

"Lola speaks like this."

About the Shadow

She/They/It

Name: ???

Age: ???

After Denny was cursed by anon, the Shadow settled in her mind and didn't disappear even after her death.

At the moment, the Shadow cannot take control of Denny's body. But Denny almost always hears their voice in her head, sees them in the shadows and in the reflection.

There are three ways the Shadow can take control of Denny's body. And under different conditions, they will behave differently.

Denny will voluntarily give up control for some reason.

Denny will experience critically negative emotions that she will not be able to keep control.

Sacrifice or take Denny's soul.

The third case is the most critical and should be avoided.

Remember that when control of the body belongs to the Shadow, Denny still feels, sees and hears everything.

The shadow is a powerful and dangerous creature. There is only one way to kill them.

Others

@askacultleader as The Lamb

@no-less-than-a-lambgod as the Ascended Lamb

@ask-thepurplecrownbearer as The Goat, unholy Ally

@ask-theredcrown as The One Who Waits

@ask-thegreencrown as Leshy, Bishop of Chaos

@askthe-yellowcrown as Heket, Bishop of Famine

@ask-thebluecrown as Kallamar, Bishop of Pestilence

@ask-thepurplecrown as Shamura, Bishop of War

@disciplesofthelamb as Briar, Dotty and Silas

@askobscurusnahual as Obscurus

@spellcaster-dude as Spellcaster

@pbam0ney as Sean

@ask-follower-jade as Jade

@thepersonaking56 as Lopina

@nox-the-cat as Nox

@jhon-the-cat-follower as Jhon

Hi! I'm Jey. This is my first ask blog on tumblr.

You can also check out my main art blog: @jeyk2117

And my another blog for reblogs and anything else: @jeyirl-21

My second Cotl OC ask blog: @ask-followers-of-the-lamb

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Slime Rancher

[godlynott]

EMAILS I CANT SEND 💌 - lorenzo zurzolo x fem oc <3

word count: 3k.

notes: hi lovelies! the fic is on wattpad, just posting it here to see if it does better! pls vote the story! i'm posting a new chapter there today (wattpad link here)

part one here : 1

auroraavery just made a post!

auroraavery

liked by noorspeaks, madisonbeer, rolemodel and 1,2m more.

MY NEW ALBUM 'emails i can't send' IS OUT JULY 15th

+new song vicious out tonight!

thank u for being patient with me :')

i think it's worth the wait

presave in bio

comments:

noorspeaks i've heard it. i've cried. i've spiraled. you did that.

↳ auroraavery thank you for being here with me noorsie <3

siennavale every man who hurt you should be terrified.

   ↳ auroraavery and u know it

popcrave she just turned 19 in poland.

fans4roryupdates

we're not READY.

we're not OKAY.

we're FERAL.

viciousatmidnight me listening to track 3 pretending i didn't just text my ex

  ↳ auroraavery how do i repost a comment

        ↳ noorspeaks aurora.

             ↳ auroraavery what did i DO

jude.callahan pop princess

  ↳ auroraavery hi rome boy bring some pizza oui oui

     ↳ auroraavery my bad that was french

chapter one.

there's a very specific kind of panic that hits the night before an album drops.

it's like your soul's about to be uploaded to every streaming platform on earth, and all you can do is sit there—refreshing your own spotify page, doubting every lyric you ever wrote, and wondering if your high school ex is going to think track seven is about him. (it is. but he doesn't deserve the recognition.)

i'm curled up on my kitchen floor, wearing a hoodie that doesn't belong to me and clutching a glass of warm wine like it's my emotional support animal. my phone buzzes for the eighth time in under a minute. which means only one thing: the groupchat is alive.

little missies :p

noorsie

AURORA

don't panic

i know you're panicking

siennie

she's 1000% spiraling

rory

are u drinking wine on the floor again?

rorsie

yes

also it's not spiraling

its processing

noorsie

with chardonnay?

therapy is expensive

siennie

we're coming over

don't argue

i have hot cheetos!

and a face mask that smells like emotionally unavailable men.

dibs on your pink robe

i sigh, dramatically, like i'm starring in my own indie film. which, honestly, i might be.

i look at the clock. 10:42pm. vicious drops at midnight. the full album drops in less than three weeks. and tomorrow? the world hears everything I've been bottling up for the past two years. the heartbreaks. the half-texted paragraphs. the voice notes I was too scared to send.

and I have to pretend I'm fine.

i take a sip of wine and whisper, "this is fine," to no one, which is exactly when the front door swings open like it's been kicked by the FBI.

sienna struts in first—jeans too low, confidence too high, holding a bag of snacks like it's chanel. noor follows, wrapped in a massive sweater, a very specific kind of chaos behind her glasses.

"we brought the essentials," sienna says, tossing a bag onto the counter. "spicy carbs, emotional support skincare, and a playlist of bad decisions from 2017."

"and," noor adds, holding up her phone, "a tweet that says, 'rory avery is dropping her new album and my ex should be worried.' you're welcome."

they both stop when they see me. still on the floor. still in the hoodie. still very much not okay.

"you look like a woman who needs a forehead kiss and a legally mandated nap," sienna says, plopping down next to me.

"or a distraction," noor grins. "what if we invite chaos?"

I narrow my eyes. "chaos as in...?"

"men."

AHH!— oh. sorry. jumpscare.

"no," I deadpan.

"we could go out," sienna offers, like it's not nearly 11pm and I'm mentally curled in a ball. "or we could scroll jude's instagram. he posted a thirst trap in a turtleneck today. you should be aware."

jude. jude callahan. a mutual friend of ours, though more noor's chaos buddy than mine. he's the kind of man who flirts like he's quoting poetry, half in Italian, half in regret. he once told me I had "a tragic mouth" and I still don't know what that means—but I think about it a lot.

"jude's in rome right now," noor says, showing me her phone. "hanging out with that actor guy. what's his name? tall. looks like he doesn't text back but probably writes in a journal."

"lorenzo something?" sienna says. "zurzolo?"

I blink. "that's not a real name."

"it is. i googled."

noor scrolls. "they're filming something. or pretending to. i don't know, their posts are mostly blurry cigarettes and sad boy captions."

I shake my head. "he's probably one of those guys who thinks falling in love is a personality flaw."

"oh, so your type," sienna smirks.

i threw a cheeto at her. but she ate it.

"awh, sienn! that was supposed to poke ur eye!"

we spend the next twenty minutes dissecting song lyrics, listening to the bridge of vicious on loop, and making fake tweets about the album drop. noor and sienna argue over whether track nine will make people fall in love or break up. i think it might do both.

and just when I start to feel the tiniest bit grounded, my phone buzzes again. a dm. from jude.

jude.callahan

hey rorsie!

rome is overrated. kinda.

you'd love the espresso

also, my friend saw your album cover

he asked me who u were

should i tell him you're emotionally unstable or let him find out the fun way?

i pause.

i don't know why the message makes me pause, but it does.

maybe it's the idea of someone—someone i don't know, who doesn't know me—looking at that picture and asking who i am.

'but aurora, you're famous! you have photoshoots every month! meh meh meh!'– shush. its not like that.

either way, i pretend i don't care.

i crack my knuckles like i'm about to write the declaration of independence, and type:

auroraavery

hi judey! tell your friend i am a poet. a danger. a menace to emotionally weak men.

i need no one.

i've transcended the concept of man.

also, is he cute?

i'm asking for science

i throw my phone on the couch and scream into a pillow.

"you're unwell," sienna says from the floor, painting her nails some shade of blood red called 'unbothered but petty.'

"i'm deeply mysterious," i say, muffled.

noor, perched at my kitchen island with a mug of tea she didn't ask to make, raises her eyebrows. "you're five minutes away from texting your ex just to say 'lol.'"

"that's not true," i say.

my phone buzzes. i grab it.

jude.callahan

he's italian.

do with that what you will.

i throw my phone again.

"you are so loud without saying anything," noor says.

sienna snorts. "what do we think? does italian mean hot or emotionally detached?"

"yes," we both say.

we pass the time with a lot of nothing: watching old music videos, re-reading tweets about my album, googling ourselves (a mistake), and building a fake ranking system for who's most likely to cry when vicious drops.

noor bets sienna will cry first.

sienna says it'll be noor.

i say it'll be the man who inspired the song.

because that man deserves to cry.

deeply.

in public.

11:57pm.

i'm pacing. like. physically pacing. my phone's in my hand. the countdown is on. the app is open. i've chewed off half my thumbnail and am considering removing the song from the release entirely.

"what if it's too much?" i ask.

"it is," sienna says. "but that's the point."

"what if they hate it?"

"then we riot," noor shrugs. "but babe... they won't."

the three of us go quiet. not a normal quiet. a heavy, buzzing, electric kind of quiet.

11:59.

i'm going to combust.

midnight.

it drops.

the first note plays. and suddenly, the world is on fire.

"one year, ten thousand bad moments."

sienna gasps.

noor grabs her own chest like she's been personally victimized.

i sit down.

my phone explodes. notifications like bullets. twitter. texts. dms. even my mom sends a heart emoji and something that made me giggle.

mumma

❤️

hope this one isn't about your father.

someone tags me in a tiktok that says,

i told aurora about my ex and she wrote vicious because i didn't had the words.

another says, she said poetic rage. she said lipstick revenge. she said cry about it, king.

the stream counter ticks up.

the first tear falls—noor's.

"called it," sienna mutters, eyes suspiciously glassy.

i smile. just a little.

it's out there.

and i think i'm ready for what comes next.

maybe.

(hopefully.)

probably not.

i wake up to the sound of noor trying to butter toast with the blunt edge of a knife and cursing under her breath like the bread personally offended her.

my throat is dry. my mascara is under my eye. my song is on the radio.

it takes me three seconds to realize i'm not dreaming.

four to remember what day it is.

five to scream.

sienna bolts upright from my couch. noor drops the toast. i launch myself at my phone like i'm auditioning for a marvel movie. it's vibrating so violently i'm pretty sure it's going to catch fire.

i'm tagged in exactly 8,972 instagram stories.

my tiktok mentions are full of edits, crying girls in hoodies, and one video of a girl pouring wine into a cereal bowl with "vicious" playing in the background.

the damn vibes.

trending #3 worldwide: "vicious by rory avery"

trending #6: "aurora said cry about it king"

trending #12: "she wasn't subtle. we support that."

i sit down on the kitchen stool and blink.

"so... people like it," noor says carefully.

i look up from my phone, eyes wide. "people get it."

"you said 'you don't feel remorse, you don't feel the effects' and the world said me too, babe," sienna adds, stretching like she's not wearing my robe and stealing my post-breakup thunder.

someone texts me.

yslcowboy

ur sick for this song

i'm proud of u and also scared of u

you free for a rooftop thing tonight or are u too busy making men cry in traffic

i grin.

tucker's been my friend since before the eyeliner and heartbreak. we once got locked in a studio for 14 hours and came out with one half-decent demo and a 2am food poisoning incident. real bonding stuff.

rorsie

oh my god harry styles?

miss u already.

rooftop sounds sexy

send me the time!!

he sends back a voice note that's mostly him laughing and calling me unhinged. love language.

it's 10:30 a.m. and my phone has not stopped once.

people from high school are texting me like we didn't have beef in 2017. influencers i've never met are using "vicious" in their thirst trap reels. my cousin from naples sent me a video of her dog howling to the chorus. honestly? i respect the range.

i open my dms just to feel something and—

mistake.

huge mistake.

it's a war zone in there.

verified people. actors. rappers. a blue check from someone who dated a jenner and probably thinks he invented feminism. a tiktok boy with 7.8 million followers just sent, "u single?" with a vampire emoji.

i consider deleting the app and starting over as a florist.

but then—i see it.

jude.callahan

rorsss

your song came on in a rome cafe

lorenzo heard it

he didn't say anything

he just stared at the speaker.

do with that what you will

my stomach does something weird. flippy.

i don't know him. i don't fucking know him.

but somehow the image of a quiet boy in rome, listening to my voice come through a speaker like it's a secret, makes me sit up straighter.

just for a second.

"who's got your attention?" noor asks, mouth full of toast crumbs.

"no one," i lie.

(i lie very badly.)

sienna smirks. "you've got your album out and the italians are already acting up."

noor claps once. "queen behavior."

"and then rooftop later?" sienna asks.

"only if there's fun," i say.

only if i can pretend the world isn't looking at me too closely.

only if i don't think too hard about the boy in rome who didn't say anything.

by 1 p.m., my day has spiraled.

in a good way. a wild, surreal, maybe-i-need-meds kind of way.

sienna left after breakfast to "emotionally recover" from track eight. noor stole my hoodie and declared herself "in a post-vicious coma." and i have changed outfits three times trying to look effortlessly famous without screaming "please tell me i'm pretty."

i settle on baggy jeans, vintage sunglasses, and a tank top that says "this is me being normal" which feels like a lie but looks hot.

i walk out of my apartment to a wall of flashing lights and at least six men with cameras who say my name like they know me. one yells, "rory, who's 'vicious' about?" and another goes, "you made my girlfriend cry last night!"

"tell her i said sorry," i call back, slipping into my car.

the driver, max, gives me a look in the rearview mirror like you're not normal anymore, are you?

i shrug. "don't worry. i peaked in high school."

by 2:30 i'm sitting in a tiny studio with neon lights, a lapel mic clipped to my top, and a publicist whispering in my ear: "just keep it light. don't mention the ex. smile. you know the drill."

"i've been media trained within an inch of my life," i whisper back.

the interviewer is cute. too enthusiastic. clearly just heard "vicious" this morning and is pretending it didn't emotionally devastate her.

"aurora avery," she beams, "the girl of the moment."

i blink. "i've always wanted to be that."

"so 'vicious'... first of all, ouch. second of all, who hurt you?"

i laugh. "just say you relate and go."

she grins. "was there a specific line that you were scared to release?"

i pause.

"probably the one where i said, 'everyone thinks you're an angel,'" i say. "there's a certain amount of people who think he's an angel.. pretty obvious who the song is about."

she visibly gasps.

"bold," she says.

"true," i reply.

i leave the interview to find five texts from noor that say, "YOU BROKE THE INTERNET." and one from sienna that says, "you looked hot. the host wanted to cry. i approve."

my driver doesn't even ask where to now. he already knows.

rooftop. tucker.

by 6 p.m., i'm standing on a rooftop with a drink in hand, pretending not to notice the skyline turning gold behind me. tucker's already there, leaning against the railing like a tortured poet, wearing sunglasses at sunset and eating crumbl cookies.

"sorry," he says, hugging me. "my girl just dropped an album that ruined my trust issues. i'm in mourning."

"shut up," i laugh into his hoodie. "you love it."

"i do. i cried. and then i listened again. and cried better the second time."

i roll my eyes. "you're so dramatic."

"says the woman who dropped a diss track disguised as art."

we clink drinks. i sip. the sun dips lower. for a second, i forget about the cameras, the noise, the fact that half the world now thinks i'm out for emotional blood.

"you know you're trending on four apps, right?" tucker says. "and two group chats i'm in."

"i know," i sigh. "i saw a tweet that said 'aurora avery makes music for girls who could destroy you and look good doing it.'"

he snorts. "so true."

"someone else said i'm the reason their boyfriend apologized for something he hasn't done yet."

he raises his glass. "to preemptive apologies."

"tuck.." i said sighing. "do you think i'm unhinged," i ask, sipping the last of my drink and giving tucker my best innocent doe-eyed main character in a messy movie look.

"absolutely," he says, without hesitation. "but in a way that's marketable."

"thank you," i reply. "i worked hard on that."

"it shows. you've got main pop girl breakdown energy. very 'i write songs, not apologies.'"

"very 'i'm doing fine, actually, shut up.'"

"very 'you'll regret this once i'm wearing a hot outfit and posting cryptic captions.'"

we pause. then both say at the same time:

"'it's not about you.'"

and then we dissolve into full-body laughter.

tucker wipes fake tears. "i hate you."

"you love me."

"only because it's court-mandated."

i lean against the railing, staring out at the city. "you'd miss me if i vanished."

"i'd throw a parade."

"you'd spiral."

"i'd thrive."

"you'd be in my comments crying."

he turns, looks me dead in the eye. "you know what i'd comment?"

"what?"

"'this u?'"

he pulls out his phone and pretends to scroll.

you're evil."

"you wrote 'vicious' and released it on purpose. i learned from the best."

tucker stretches and sits on the ledge like a certified indie boy. "alright. real question."

"hit me."

"what's next?"

i exhale. look up at the sky like the answer might be up there, just hanging between clouds and delusion.

"i think i wanna disappear for a sec," i admit. "like. not forever. just long enough to feel normal again."

"normal's boring," he says.

"yeah, but it's also... quiet. no cameras. no dms. no strangers knowing what my heartbreak sounds like."

he's quiet for a beat. not in the way most people are, but in the way only people who get it can be. he's not trying to fix it. he's just there.

"you could come to mine for a few days," he offers. "lay low. write sad girl music in peace."

"and by peace you mean?"

"me waking you up at 2am to show you demos no one asked for."

i smile. "tempting."

"think about it," he says, hopping off the ledge. "we could make another song. you could break another man."

"i'm doing god's work," i nod solemnly.

"saint aurora of heartbreak. protect us."

we bow our heads in fake prayer.

the sun's almost gone now. golden hour fading into something a little colder, a little quieter. the rooftop is fuller, louder, but it still feels like just us up here.

"you're doing good, rory," tucker says suddenly, real serious.

i glance over. "you too."

we both pretend we didn't get a little soft for half a second.

he bumps my shoulder.

"alright. now let's go inside before someone recognizes you and starts crying about their ex. again."

----

taglist (comment if you want to be in it) : @lovingaphroditesworld

[vaalthus]

Convergence Part 2 (spoilers)

Let's get into it.

Honestly, I fell in love with this full synchronization animation alone and I can see from the quality, as well as everything that comes after, is the reason why the release had to be delayed.

Truth be told, prior to this release, I was expecting Jaania's fully synchronized form to be quite the visual abomination. What with her soul being in tatters and the circumstances regarding Hesperrhodos' creation. So imagine my surprise to find a certain level of beauty in this form and it's one that perfectly encapsulates Jaania's character.

The way I see it, if Uaanta's transformation was the last stand of a hero offering up all her devotion and faith to her gods through her body and Remthalas' transformation was that of an eldritch monstrosity puppeteering its slave, then Jaania's transformation is that of a scarred woman, hence her face scar being highlighted in the transition, frantically control the order of the very world itself. Her many hands meant either guide or cut away whatever she deems fit in her eternal era of perfection.

I like how in spite of the noble intentions that's clearly driving her, these few lines really reveal the egotism that's mixed up in her reasoning. It's "her" perfect world we stand in the way in and it's our fault for wanting to stop her from a plan that could doom the very world she wants so desperately to protect. And that is reason enough determine that we don't have a future worth preserving.

I love how Draco tried to pull the same little attack on Jaania that they did to Voyna, but she just doesn't even react to it. Never change little fella.

The entire boss fight that ensues after this is truly something. Very thematically fitting in terms of Jaania's character while also somehow managing to be a step up above even the last one in part one. I'd say in spite of it being elevated to the complexity of the Inn at the Edge of Time, it still felt pretty manageable even as a Chaosweaver, so I get the thrill of kicking Jaania's butt as a weaver twice.

In addition, I feel like a lot of the pop up text and status effects that Jaania has, or gives, really cement my thoughts in that she is rather similar to Notha's character, but unlike Notha, who existed on the side of Doom/Chaos, Jaania is the epitome of Order and Destiny. Which makes her vision for Lore all the more terrifying when she shows us what a world of perfect order looks like to her because it's a complete nightmare for the Hero.

A frozen stagnant world, forever kept in stasis. One that keeps everyone from ever being hurt again but one that also keeps people from growing as they should in this world.

Fortunately, we once again prove we are more than a match for Jaania rejecting her delusion of control.

And honestly, this just as much of the sorry sight I expected to be. All that time and effort she put into the Rose, to trying, in her very misguided way, to protect everyone and everything and it's all down the drain. Her hair is almost completely white now, meaning her soul is on the very brink and the people that were sacrificed along the way have essentially been wasted.

One of these days I would like to take a further look into how the Hero views, well, heroism and how they've struggled with because it's an interesting sight.

I'm not sure what comes next for Jaania at this moment. She didn't die in her fight but it's clear her soul is not in good condition anymore. Even if she survives the trek back to surface, the Magesterium made it pretty clear they wanted her in their custody for judgement. Not only that, the judgement that remains back home in Greenguard for her actions and that of the Rose. Even if she's kept from any harsh punishment, where does she go from here? Will she sit in a wallow in misery? Try to atone for what she's done, provided she can be made to see the error of her ways? Perhaps Kara could help with that but beyond that I'm not sure what lies ahead for Jaania but I'm curious as to what comes next. I am satisfied with this conclusion.

However, there's that one little wrinkle to deal with.

THIS BUTTHEAD IS STILL BREATHING AND ABOUT TO DO THE THING!!!

....AND HE'S JACKED. I mean seriously I know the experiments made him strong as hell but good lord! I suppose it makes sense it would end this way though as our band, and even the hero, has no means of actually subduing or harming Akanthus and so it's a race to ensuring that bomb does not go off in the Mana Core as there is still no telling what it might do to the Core though my guess is still that it might corrupt it with doom energy.

As for Akanthus himself, I'm not sure. It's starting to feel like he might actually just straight up and try and bathe in the core itself to connect with it at this point. Either way, this is ending in a titan fight. >:)

We are soon to reach the end of this saga Loreians. Get ready.

[depressopax]

First of all. Love, love your writing! It's so good!

Secondly, if I may request some Mike ehrmantraut headcanons with a lover(reader) who is about his age. Who is just as hardened by life (they both work for Fring) but is soft with Mike when the two get close. Thank you<3

Heyyy! THANK YOU SM for your kind words! 😭❤ I'm so glad you like my work ahhhh <3

And thanks for the request!! I had so much fun writing this. It's not the type of text and genre I usually write, so it was a fun challenge! Also, I know it said headcanons, but once I started writing I came up with a whole story lol

Hope you like it and have and AMAZING day <333

The things we do - Mike Ehrmantraut x gn! reader

Fandom - Better Call Saul

Pairing: Mike Ehrmantraut x gender neutral reader Genre: Feel good, fluff, hurt/comfort Warning(s): Mentions of grief, unemployment, divorce, mental health and growing up. Cuss words. Reader is gender neutral, is 50 y/o and has two kids.  Words: 1K Summary: As close as possible to the request! Reader is turning 50, Mike 60 y/o for this story. - You and Mike have been together for about a year. The two of you share so much experiences and can relate to one another. Both being older and working for Gus Fring, you make a good team, despite the scars from the past... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 AO3 link

“Hey… Cheer up! It’s your birthday tomorrow.” 

Mike says. You turn to give him a tired smile. It’s a rare thing to hear him be optimistic, but you love it.

“Yea… I’m just sour because she can’t be there.”

Your daughter is a free soul, ever since she was a kid, she had dreamt of a life away from Albuquerque. Now she’s 21 and studying abroad in the United Kingdoms. She was gonna travel back to New Mexico to celebrate your birthday, but with snowstorm chaos and exams coming up, she had to cancel. You’re not angry at her, rather sad, since you haven’t seen her in half a year. You still talk on the phone daily, despite the different time zones. At least you have your son, too. He’s 17, in high-school and lives at home with you, in a beautiful apartment on the calm streets of Albuquerque. You’re a bit paranoid, since you know the dangers of town. In your almost 50 years alive, you’ve seen and met many dangers. Keeping your kids safe has been the priority since. Being a single parent has made you even more protective of them. The divorce between you and your ex was bad and you haven’t heard from them since.

When Mike’s phone buzzes you feel relieved, happy to be distracted from your bitter thoughts. Since Mike is busy driving, you take his phone.

“It’s the boss”

“Can you reply?”

The two of you talk about it so casually, as if working as enforcers for a drug kingpin like Gus Fring is nothing weird. But to you and Mike it isn’t weird. 

Working for Gus is challenging and dangerous, so you’re happy to do it together with Mike. You know the risks of the work, but happily do it to provide for your kids. The things you do are for them. 

It’s been a year now, since the company you worked for shut down, and left you unemployed and in need of money. The only perks of having a criminal past is the work opportunity Gustavo Fring gave you.

That’s where you met Mike Ehrmantraut, an older ex-cop from Philadelphia, with a past just as fucked up as yours. 

At first you didn’t trust anyone in Gus' team, and to be honest? You weren’t really popular amongst your new colleagues. You were one of the oldest assets to the team, and your trust issues made it hard to get along with people. Luckily, Mike was the same. He was only a couple years older and just as “bitter” as you. The two of you went from sitting quietly next to each other, to exchanging a couple words to each other. One day, you took the courage and started a conversation with him, and some days later he kissed you. Since then, you and Mike have been inseparable. He is your partner in crime, literally, tho. You both struggle with guilt from the tasks you’re forced to do, but being together helps you both heal and forgive yourselves. 

“It’s just the things we do, for ourselves, and our families”

Mike usually says, giving you the reassurement you need. He’s been in this career for longer than you and knows his way around things. 

An odd pair, but still, you like to believe he’s your soulmate.

Mike can be very intimidating, and you too. So the two of you together tend to make people avoid your eyes. Your colleagues see you as the “grumpy old couple”, but to you, it’s the opposite. Mike makes you feel things you thought you could never feel again. He made you believe in love again. 

You answer the phone and recaps the completed mission for Gus, who seems satisfied with your work. As you hang up, you look at Mike.

“Fring told us we did a good job. Mission complete, as usual. Wanna celebrate?”

Mike chuckles.

“I thought you didn’t wanna celebrate?”

“I wasn’t talking about the birthday.”

“I think you’re having a mid-life crisis, y/n my dear”

You scoff at his words, even though it’s kinda true, but you can let him know that.

“I just don’t feel like celebrating.”

You don’t need to explain further, he knows what you mean. He doesn’t like celebrating birthdays either, since the loss of his son. 

He brings your hand to his lips, making you melt as he kisses your knuckles whilst driving through the cold night in Albuquerque. 

The sun almost blinds you when you blink your eyes open. The thin white curtains in your bedroom let in the morning sun. You let out an annoyed grunt. How many times haven’t you promised yourself to change curtains? You yawn as you turn around in bed, facing the left side, which is empty. 

“Mike?” 

You call out with a low, raspy voice. You start wondering if he had to leave early…

No, his phone is still on the nightstand. The door opens to the bedroom and he walks in, wearing a morning robe which originally is yours. You can’t help but smile.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. Happy birthday.”

Right… Your birthday.

“Let’s pretend I turn 40 and not 50, ok?”

He chuckles.

“Absolutely. I made you some coffee.”

As you get dressed, you get stuck by the mirror for a bit, noticing the love-drunk smile on your lips that doesn’t fade. It’s a change from your usual serious, almost intimidating expression. A good change.

Life hasn’t been easy and apart from the dangerous work for Fring which often makes you question yourself alot. Sometimes you wish that life was more normal, or that you could turn back time and do things differently. But not anymore. You’ve met your soulmates, after everything you’ve gone through. 

When you walk into the kitchen, Mike is already sitting in the kitchen, saying something that makes your son laugh. You smile at the sight, and look at your boyfriend, realizing that you love him, and you don’t wanna be without him. He always tells you how you made his life better, but he did the same to you. 

As you sit down with them, the thought of celebrating a birthday doesn’t seem to be so bad. You feel at peace. 

Crying shaking throwing up I love Mike THE WAY I SOBBED WHEN WRITING THIS 💀

[aashiquidreams]

Saturday morning, I woke up to an unexpected text message from someone from my past, a person I hadn’t heard from in a year or two. I was intrigued as I read his words. I answered his message, curious about what made him reach out after all this time. He told me he had a dream about me, stirring emotions I thought I had buried deep. I managed to stay calm and asked him what happened in the dream.

He described a scene where he was sharing personal thoughts, discussing his life with me. It felt good and relaxing—a comforting experience after a long period, he said. Hearing this brought back a flood of memories—both joyful and painful—reminding me of the complex dance of emotions we shared in our long-distance situationship.

Looking back, our relationship was a delicate fabric of dreams and fantasies, bound together by a longing that often felt unattainable. I remember the early days, the thrill of our late-night conversations where we bared our souls, each word laced with hope and desire. Yet, as time passed, the reality of our situation crept in, revealing the shadows beneath the surface. I realized I was often drawn into a cycle of hope and disappointment, chasing a mirage that never truly materialized. I had learned the hard way that sometimes we create fantasies that don’t align with reality.

After it ended, I promised myself I wouldn’t pursue relationships with men who were emotionally unavailable and from that cultural background again, nor would I engage in long-distance relationships. The emotional toll was too heavy, and the rigid expectations placed on women felt suffocating. I yearned for the freedom to express myself and live authentically without the constraints of tradition weighing me down. So when the text arrived, I felt a whirlwind of emotions—nostalgia, sadness, and the lingering whispers of what could have been.

As we continued to chat, he revealed that he was now married to his cousin, an arrangement orchestrated by his family. Hearing about his marriage reminded me of the patterns I had worked so hard to break free from in both my family and past romantic relationships. He talked about his new life with a sense of defeat, implying that his happiness didn’t really matter—what was important was his family’s satisfaction. Before that, he expressed regret for the way things unfolded between us, saying I was the best woman he ever met and that he had lost me. I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his wife; it’s a delicate situation to navigate when a partner reflects on their past in such a way, and a reminder of how easily emotional boundaries can be crossed. I’m thankful I’m not in her position, and it struck me how easily that could have been my reality.

Yet, as I reflect on this journey, I can’t deny that a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I think about the fantasy we built together—a virtual escape from our realities, woven with hopes and dreams of an intertwined future. It was a beautiful illusion, and I felt a profound heartbreak when it came to an abrupt end. I still vividly remember the anguish of those nights, crying uncontrollably, desperately calling him while he remained silent, leaving me without an explanation or the courtesy of a goodbye. That experience mirrored the deepest wounds of my past, echoing the pain of my mother’s sudden absence during my teenage years. He knew this part of my story yet chose to replicate that abandonment, which cut even deeper. It’s an unsettling feeling when someone’s actions resurrect old traumas, reminding me just how sensitive those core parts of me still are.

Reflecting on my journey, I realize just how far I’ve come. The hurt he caused me, along with the emotional chaos, forced me to confront myself. This experience brought out the worst in me at times—towards him, but perhaps more towards myself. I learned through therapy and self-reflection that my value is not determined by how others perceive or treat me; my worth lies in how I view and feel about myself. Embracing the process of loving and caring for myself deeply, I have emerged stronger and more resilient. It’s fascinating how people from our past often resurface at the moment we’ve finally moved on and solidified our boundaries, reminding us of the growth we’ve achieved.

As I navigated these emotions, I also felt a profound sense of relief. I believe this whole experience with him reaching out was meant to show me that I was divinely protected from a life and dynamic that would have led to deep unhappiness. I really feel like I dodged a bullet—perhaps even literally. The strict expectations surrounding women in his culture would never align with my independent lifestyle. It also doesn’t completely align with how I was raised. Sure, my parents had a similar cultural and strict background, but it wasn’t as strict as his. Growing up in the West shaped me into an independent woman who thinks and acts for herself, and I cherish my freedom. Yesterday, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I used to think I could make it work with him, but now I see it clearly: I would have never fit into his world, and they would never have accepted me for who I am.

Astrologically, this relationship highlighted important emotional patterns and life lessons. With his South Node and Lilith falling in my 12th house, where I have Pluto, the connection had a deeply karmic undertone, often making it feel like we were working through unresolved issues from another time. This placement highlighted powerful themes of transformation and healing, suggesting that our bond would trigger profound introspection and spiritual awakening. This has definitely been the case for me, as I was pushed to confront my fears and unacknowledged parts of myself. The intensity of our connection, though sometimes liberating, also resurfaced past traumas that required healing. With Pluto in Capricorn nearing the end of its 16-year journey and set to transition into Aquarius in November, there’s a clear sense of closing old chapters and stepping into new beginnings. The fact that this reflection came just before the autumn equinox, a time symbolizing balance and transition, feels significant. Additionally, with Libra season now beginning—a sign tied to relationships and harmony—it feels like a cosmic reminder to fully embrace the balance I’ve found within myself. The ongoing Libra-Aries eclipse series, now approaching its final stages, resonates with my Libra rising and 7th house in Aries, emphasizing themes of relationships, balance, and personal growth as I reflect on the lessons from this chapter of my life.

As I move forward, I embrace my journey with confidence. I don’t know what the future will bring; life can be unpredictable. While I may cry or feel dramatically defeated at times, with so much fire and air in my natal chart, it can be challenging to stay calm. However, I trust in my fiery strength to guide me through. Above all, I know that God always has my back and that I’m being divinely guided and protected, even if I don’t see it in the moment. Afterward, it always makes sense. I am capable of navigating whatever lessons come my way, and each past version of me has contributed to the courage and resilience I embody today. Although my life may not be what I once envisioned, I can look in the mirror and be proud of the strength and wisdom I’ve gained.

[sleepyowlwrites]

Oops hit the wrong button when trying to send an ask. Time for me to go to sleep apparently.

How about you? What are some favorite very specific tropes that you have?

Hi rainstormdaughterdearest

Twins. Bonus points if they have magic (3/4 sets do)

Guy takes himself way too seriously and is oblivious as to how unhappy it makes him

Ambiguous older person who knows so much stuff that they won't tell the protagonists

"I don't need friends" vs "this one. I'm gonna be friends with this one"

The soul of the group that everybody else would protect with their lives

Plucky young lad who didn't ask to be the main character but here we are

Chill and competent lass who observes the chaos around her and sometimes also partakes

Cuddle piles

Fights that absolutely would be flirtatious except that the majority of my characters are non-romantic (at least I never mention if they are)

Everybody's some kind of asexual unless specifically stated in the text

Long-lost (ish) siblings and you better believe it's complicated

Opposites becoming good friends, often through coercion from their respective friends

Protagonist is not the main character

Random lingual stuff: slang, greetings in older dialects, the latin of the wip, phraseology

Sidekicks in various forms: twice possessed skeleton, talking animals, the resident clairvoyant, your brother who knows stuff, sunshine or raincloud, etc.

Can I interest you in some heavy emotions for a couple thousand words?

Sneaky magic

It's hot outside a lot for some reason

Thiefs. But the good kind?

Hurt/comfort sandwiched in between shenanigans

⬆️ that's just my main thing. All my wips can be summed up thusly

Bonus list of tropes I like

Bonus list of romance tropes I like

Thanks for asking 😊

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Day 8 Reveals 2023

A Single Drachma (Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types) written by TsarinaTorment, performed by stereden Summary: Alone. Injured. Hunted. Michael doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he’s running out of time, and he’s only got one shot at calling for help. He’s got to make it count.

Lost in the time (Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi (TV)) written by HadrianPeverellBlack, performed by reena_jenkins Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn't accept that Anakin, his brother, became Darth Vader. He tried to change that. Sometimes things can't change. Other times they could.

taking care (Welcome to Night Vale) written by Koschei_B, performed by xianvar Summary: Cecil comes home covered in blood and miserable.

Soul Swapped Soulmates (แค่���พื่อนครับเพื่อน | Bad Buddy: the Series (TV)) written by FlutterFyre, performed by sunkitten_shash Summary: “Pran, is that you?” “Now why would I be calling myself? Oh, wait, could it be because I’m stuck in your body? What the hell, Pat?” Pran’s sarcasm was coming through loud and clear. Pat’s irritation rose. He stalked over to the window and threw the curtains open. Sure enough, Pran – in Pat's body – was standing in Pat’s bedroom, glaring through the windows at him.

Are Flames Buried, Too? (One Piece (Anime & Manga)) written by CricketBones, performed by mistbornhero Summary: When a letter involving Banchina comes to Usopp, Luffy realizes something he had not thought about before; Does Ace have a grave? How do we handle grief, and past hurt, and how can the Strawhat Pirates help?

A Day In The Life: Archive Support Clerk Extraordinaire (Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types) written by bluegeekEM, performed by litra Summary: Archive support clerk Edwina Ro embarks on her first day in possession of a newly elevated clearance level, ready to do battle with the forces of archival chaos and instill organization wherever she goes. At the very least she hopes to tackle more interesting projects. Discovering that the "Accidental Marriage or Marriage-Equivalent" form is now on her "commonly referenced" list of forms? Not what she'd expected, actually.

there ain't no easy way out (i won't back down) (Leverage) written by JuneOokami, performed by farkenshnoffingottom Summary: After the Rundown Job, Eliot has some realizations about his relationship with Hardison and Parker

人過留名 | Reputation (魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) created by dragongirlG and DrPanda99 Summary: Jingyi is the only one awake when Jin Ling texts the group chat at midnight. Hey so remember my dead uncle on my mom’s side? He's back What, Jingyi responds. WHAT EXPLAIN YOURSELF - Jin Ling's uncle returns from the dead during Chinese New Year. Meanwhile, Lan Jingyi decides to investigate the return of mysterious stackoverflow user yilinglaozu.

you and i, we are matter (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), The Owl House (Cartoon)) written by hopelessgemini, performed by lady_mab Summary: instincts kick in. catra freezes in place and tries to reconcile herself with the fact that she is very suddenly not where she was before. why does this keep happening to me?

or, catra accidentally lands herself on the boiling isles and in the care of one mara eternia. a toh she-ra au, written for pod_together 2023. there WILL be shenanigans.

The Lost Gods [text, audio] (Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types) written by hiddendruid, performed by roseszain and SerenaEW Summary: A cushy house-sitting job, a mysterious journal, a creepy guy at a pool, and... a rescue crew with arrows and wolves?

Suddenly, this summer job had gotten a whole lot more interesting

Of Trade Winds and the End of Our Peaceful Days (Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types) written by Elle_dubs, performed by Hangebokhan Summary: Jaskier helps in his inimitable way to raise a dragon, and the found family he has surrounded himself with is forced to contend with plans for the future.

Stones of the Sea: Relics of Sea & Sand (shell) (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, A Stitch in Time - Andrew Robinson - Fandom) created by BardicRaven and RisalSoran Summary: Even ruined, reduced to a shell of its former self, Tain’s house held its share of dangers. Elim Garak knew that, walked cautiously through its shattered walls and fallen rooms. But even he could still be caught.

[namig42]

Part 6/7 of this ask from @inaconstantstateofchange

This time, we're talking about

Helena

My sweet, anxiety-ridden rogue with socialization issues has dealt with a lot of trauma. She steals and causes chaos to keep herself isolated from others in her own way, whether or not she realizes it, because she fears being abandoned or rejected. She never knew her parents, she grew up with no one who cared for her, and so she made a point of distancing herself from everyone on her own terms in order to keep herself emotionally safe. It wasn't until she found a kindred spirit of sorts in Astarion that she began to open up and let her guards down a bit, revealing a whole lot of trauma she would now need to learn to process and work through.

But what if just one person had shown her some sort of care when she was a kid? What if one adult had stepped in to raise the little problematic tiefling?

Let's say when Helena was still fairly young, about 8 or 9, she stole a bracelet she thought was pretty off of a lady walking around the Lower City. A member of the Flaming Fist caught Helena in this scenario, and instead of berating and punishing her harshly, he simply asked Helena for the bracelet back. When she finally gave it to him, the guard dragged Helena back to the lady the bracelet belonged to and forced her to apologize.

Maybe the same Flaming Fist guard catches Helena a couple more times, holding her accountable in a way that actually teaches Helena what's wrong with her actions rather than hurting her like the other guards tended to do.

Let's call this particular guard Vernon. He's an older gentleman who's never married and has one son that's all grown up and moved away to Waterdeep in order to study magic. Vernon raised his son on his own the best he could, but things weren't always perfect. He never let his son read magic text in the house and discouraged the arcane heavily, but it only drew them further apart. His son left to pursue a "brighter, better future" as he phrased it, and now the two haven't spoken in nearly a decade. Vernon is a fairly stoic, traditional older man with a bushy moustache and bushy brows. He comes across as unassuming because most assume him to be past his prime, but he's still pretty quick and strong. He simply started graying earlier than most. He's only in his early fifties, but he looks much older.

Anyways, Vernon notices Helena more often while he's out on patrol these days, watching her as she runs around and plays little jokes on people. They're all mostly harmless jokes, and he does get a chuckle or two while watching the little tiefling girl run around, thinking that no one sees her being sneaky. He really only steps in when he sees Helena crossing a line.

He catches her one day stealing some produce from a stand near the Lower City entrance gate, and after catching Helena in the act, Vernon goes back and pays the grocer for the goods that Helena stole. He looks at what Helena grabbed and asks her with a snarky tone, "and just what the hell were you going to do with a raw fish and a carrot?" Helena shrugs, then he offers to show her something she could technically cook with what she grabbed. He brings her back to his home to make a fish and vegetable stew, using the things Helena stole on top of his own food, and feeds her a proper meal. The way she scarfs the stew down tells Vernon that this kid hasn't eaten anything good in her life. After she finishes her bowl, Vernon starts to ask about Helena's parents, but she immediately tells him she has none. He asks where she lives, and she tells him the orphanage. He asks why she runs around pickpocketing, and she shrugs and tells him that it's fun. All of her answers are short and only a couple words, but Vernon can see a sweet soul under all the fear. He can see that Helena is a good kid in a bad situation, and it makes him want to do something to help her.

Over the next year or so, Vernon keeps an eye on Helena as she plays around the city during the day. He keeps her out of trouble, and even starts packing little meals for Helena that he gives her when he spots her. Eventually, she starts to open up to the old man, smiling at him occasionally and playing jokes on him sometimes now too. The way she opens up tells Vernon that he's doing something right, and one day, when he's handing Helena a small packed lunch, he kneels down and asks how she'd like to eat like this everyday. He's awkward in how he poses the question, but the gist of it is that he offers to adopt Helena and take care of her, give her a room, and feed her good food. He doesn't tell her this next part, but he hopes to also teach her some different skills or help her find a new direction to keep her out of trouble.

Helena tells him that she think he's a nice old man and that she'd like to have her own room, so she agrees, and within a couple days, she's living with Vernon. Over the next few years, Vernon teaches Helena how to cook for herself, how to fish, how to fight, and how to read. Anything he could think of that may be of any kind of interest to Helena, he'd try to show her. Vernon is afraid of pushing Helena away the same way he pushed his own son away, so he's a bit more lenient about small things that Helena likes. As long as she stays out of trouble, then he does his best not to pry or deny her things. The two would grow close over time, and Helena would learn how to communicate better and keep out of trouble, though most of her pranks would now be directed solely at Vernon. It's a small price to pay though for him to see Helena so happy.

By the time she becomes a proper adult, instead of becoming a rogue that gets mixed up with the Guild, Helena would be an aimless young adult that works any job she can find around the city in order to help support Vernon as he gets older and can't work the way he used to. She keeps getting fired from each of her odd jobs for one reason or another, always causing some kind of commotion before her boss tells her to beat it. She would try working as a store clerk, a newspaper runner, a construction worker, a janitor, and whatever position she could land. She wasn't qualified for much, so the jobs weren't ritzy, but she never complained about the work. Her issue was that she would do something dumb, sometimes on purpose, but more often on accident, and get fired fairly quick. Things never felt quite right, but she didn't care about the work. She just wanted to support Vernon and help him the way he helped her when she was a kid.

She'd eventually find herself as a bartender at a little restaurant on the water of the Lower City, and realize that she likes working in a bar. She sometimes gets regulars that come on through and learns about them, being able to connect with them and keep them coming back because they enjoy Helena's company. In time, she finds herself even making friends with some of the regulars, and her life begins to turn into a regular episode of Cheers.

As she goes through her twenties, instead of causing chaos and then hiding herself in a room full of stolen trinkets, Helena makes a proper home with her father figure, finds a place to go and work a job she enjoys at the tavern, and manages to find herself being able to connect with others, even if it's not on the deepest level just yet. It's a much different life, and though it's not glamorous, it's one worth living.

---

If this version of Helena got taken by the nautiloid, I don't think that she'd be much different than her original timeline. She'd still enjoy sowing a bit of chaos with Astarion, though likely not nearly as much as before, and would still bond with him the most. This time though, since she's learned how to talk to people and connect with others thanks to Vernon, she'd likely grow closer with more companions than just Astarion, leading to a stronger bond between the party as a whole. She'd also be a bit more accountable, so Yellena (my friend's Tav) would hopefully not despise her so much (lol).

[skirtsandsweaters]

me reinventing the wheel in 4k. this was doesn't accurately describe me anymore as it was written years ago. there's some insufferable melodrama but i did genuinely feel that way at many points in my life so it gets to stay. there's a gem or two past the melodrama. if u don't find any, then i never said anything.

---

cold sorrow :( shivering sadness :( so alone and so over it that you're sad then numb then sad :( misery so freezing that you lose your limbs and cry about it but there's no end to the tears :( endless unhappiness :( just upset forever eternally

KNOWLEDGE IS A SERVICE: why do we have to pay for knowledge? why isn't it free? knowledge is free, accessing all there is to know is virtually possible should you try. we pay for the (((labour))) that goes into compiling, collecting, translating, and modifying the knowledge of the world into consumable pieces like research papers and classroom curriculums.

BRIGHT TILES NEED A LOT OF BLEACH: horror but the scary people are those who aren't disfigured because their untouched state speaks to the amounts of violence and scheming they've done to stay that way. the baddies are those unaffected, the protags, or the status quo is being hurt

MUSIC AND REPETITION: i call my favourite songs "good" regardless of their objective quality because they make me feel good. they make me feel good because i am familiar with them and my brain releases endorphins for pattern recognition. since i know them front to back they are sure to make me feel good or comfortable. this causes me to stick to a few songs and be hesitant or wary of trying new music because i don't want that penalization from my brain for not recognizing the patterns of new music when all i'm looking for is easy dopamine and "comfort"

UNINTENTIONALLY DETRIMENTAL ADVICE IN Horror MOVIES: it's common for horror text to have unaware people suggest that those haunted by demons should face them, not knowing that they'll end up hurting themselves more

NO TWO WORDS MEAN THE SAME THING: rhymes but doesn't repeat, similar package, different meaning, do the same ((way)) i do but not the same ((thing)) i do

STORM: cold front meets warm front creates storms - mom's worldview meets other people's worldview causes chaos (in general), feelings of cornered prey, lashing out (both in her), instability (in general)

FALLING FOR ETERNITY: is there a place where it's always stormy? (every year has its december --> what if it's always december)

DISCONNECTION FROM OBSESSION: a lost soul is someone who is obsessed with something that disconnects them from life

THE MIND: the element of a person that enables them to be aware of the world and their experiences, to think, and to feel; the faculty of consciousness and thought.

JOYFUL SUFFERING: the grace of that cross changes the Cyrenean's heart and from the compulsory task, it becomes a privilege and joy.

CALL OF THE VOID: L'appel du vide

GHOST/GOES: solid ghost, so it goes (---> so it goes as in so light and barely tangible, oh "there it goes" as expected, leaving quickly and easily. --> solid ghost as in you're human and corporeal and take up space and are visible but it feels as if you aren't any of those things, like a wallflower, a living ghost :) )

- Voice so low / Sneaking around, so it goes / I always try my best to listen

- Pacing around, watching my feet / Batteries drain, I get the memo / "I think that I might have to let you go" (reminds me of Noah)

BACKWARDS ECHO: repeats what will be said instead what has been said.

VICTIM BLAMING: We take to victim-blaming because we are problem-solving people who want to feel secure. We view a crime as something that happened, like a natural disaster, because we can't control or understand the actions of the assailant, instead of something that was done to someone by someone. We don't see any efficient or immediate way to have stopped the crime on the wrongdoer's end so we blame the victim, ask them what they did wrong, how they could have gotten out of it, because we want to assure ourselves that it will not happen to us. We view crimes like sexual assault and shootings as comparative to running down the stairs without looking where you're going.

HUMAN VALUE: " Our true value lies in the core experience of being a conscious being who feels and perceives.” In other words, rather than making our self-worth contingent on categories such as academic success, appearance, or popularity, we must value ourselves solely for the fact that we are human beings and accept that failure is part of the human experience. "

SWEARING: using swear words in descriptions to avoid intimacy or vulnerability - as a distraction

COLOUR: older and younger generations tend to see (identify, name, call) colours differently - pink and red, green and yellow, brown and orange - education, personal relationship with colour, circumstances could be factors

[hungry-axolotl]

Prompt "Who did this to you?"

Theme : Betrayal, Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Death mentioned, Blood, Fantasy, One-shot(?)

The colored texts are considered emotions. Hopefully this doesn't make it hard to read.

She grunts in exertion, leaning her back against the pile of rubble conveniently behind her. Pain resonated throughout her body as rain pelted on the cuts and bruises on her body mercilessly. “f**k... This damned rain…”

She sighs heavily as she finally settles uncomfortably against the rubble. she looks up slowly, closing her eyes, letting rain fall on her face. The rain stole away her warmth, and yet she felt comforted by the rhythmical way the droplets seemed to fall on her skin, as if it was her father that used to comfort her whenever she tripped and fell. She stayed that way for a minute, savouring the fleeting moment of respite. Her thoughts drift, the memories of happy days with her family, then the unforeseen betrayal.

The surge of emotions caused tears to well in her eyes, slowly mingling with the ice cold raindrops, she opened her eyes, unflinching as rain fell onto them. The sound of several light footsteps splashing puddles of water, disturbing the peace she tried to hold on to. ‘A familiar sight, when was it?’ She gazed at the familiar uniform of the knights as she thought to herself, ‘Ah. The day of my father’s burial.’

“That’s an awful lot of people trying to end a weak, pathetic, injured little princess, don’t you think?” She chuckles, her brown irises turning red, she stands slowly, her breath shaking. Her eyes trace through the crowd surrounding her, counting a number of 57 Imperial Knights.

“Cut the crap, Demoness Lilith.” The attackers’ cold gazes bore into her, her nickname seemingly invoking bravery into her.

She pursed her lips, as if those words hurt, closing her eyes, she discarded the past. A cruel smirk donned her face as if fear wasn’t in any part of her soul. Her eyes fly open, a murderous glint in them. She swiftly draws her sword, at a speed that one would never think that she was injured. The initial red sparks ignite small flames around her and, along with the bloodlust emitting from her startles the enemies.

The voice of the commander cracks, “P- Prepare for combat-”

One. Small sparks of blue flame crackled, shrouding her before exploding in the air, heat spread across the area, boiling the rain into steam, acting as a smokescreen. She dashes, staring eye to eye with the commander before…

“KUgHh!!” The light blue blade effortlessly slices through the commander’s helmet then his head diagonally from the right of his neck to his left eye. Blood sprayed into the air from his opened head, visible to those behind him they flinched fear overtaking their previous bravado.

Two.... Three. Lilith doesn’t let the opportunity pass, slicing through them without hesitation.

They could only hope to regroup before they were wiped out, her shadow hazing in and out with flashes of blue flames as she cut down each of them one by one. Amongst the chaos and disorder, screams of pain and terror reverberated into the air, blood combusting turning the air rancid and the steam red. A scene right out of an apocalypse.

“FIND HER!” a commanding voice echoed through the field as she darts within the scarlett rancid steam, swiftly dispatching them.

Four… Five… Six- She growls, as a barrage of icicles stopping her rampage, she had to dodge this. She dashes to her right, before just barely leaping away with her life intact. A strong breeze swept through the battlefield, dispersing the blood mist, cruelly removing her only advantage in the battle.

She looked behind her, the Imperial Knights lagging behind. She swiftly tries to stand before crippling back into the ground, she grits her teeth in pain, looking down calmly while pulling out the icicles stuck in her left calf. The attackers caught up, their numbers dwindled, roughly twenty? or thirty? She couldn’t really care less anymore, ignoring the pain, she persistently pushes through the battlefield.

Seven… Eight… Nine… Her injuries slowly increased, her movements slowing, heads flew, blood painted her face. Her focus slowly died out, her eyes hazy with exhaustion, yet her body instinctively moved to cull any moving objects with practised ease. ‘Why isn’t it ending… for how long… do I need to do this?’

Ten. She freezes. The pain and warmth in her belly brought her gaze down, a dark red sword that seemed awfully familiar. Traitor. Blood spewed out of her throat, her heart that was already broken, crumbled.

“Brother…” She chuckled dryly. “Fancy… meeting you here…” She winces as more swords come piercing into her limp body. “Have you and mother been well?” a gentle smile rests on her forlorn face as she falls, dropping to her knees. She gazes blankly at her surroundings, there were more dead bodies then the 57 she had counted earlier.

“We've been well ever since you disappeared. Don’t worry, Sister. No. Lilith.. I’ll be the king and the hero in your stead, mother will be pleased.”

She chuckles at the heartless comment of her brother, sighing in resignation as they leave her, letting her die a bitter death in the rain.

She closes her eyes, resting as she hears the fading footsteps, trying to think of happy things to entertain herself before Death himself comes to hug her. A face surfaces in her thoughts, she smiled. She used to hate the annoying voice that always accompanied the owner of that face.

“...Cecilia.” A voice called out, it sounded pained and desperate. A pale face. One unlike him. She missed hearing this voice, the voice of the evil villian, her sworn enemy.

She stares blankly at him. “Hey… you came?” She coughed in pain, blood accompanying it. His eyes widened… rushing to her with his hands trembling dearly as he tried to figure out just how to help her.

“Who..did this…” he growled, his voice rough and feral. His eyes stared at the swords stabbed into her body. “WHO!!”

She watched quietly, reaching out to lightly brush away the tears on his cheeks. “...thought you’ve always wanted me dead, Lucifer.” She smiles, gentle and delicate.

“Not… not this way…” Lucifer growled, tears rolling down his cheek while he slowly put his hand on her wounds, trying to stop the bleeding and remove the swords that were lodged in her with his dark magic. He freezes when a red glimmer catches his eyes. His gaze shifts to a familiar dark red sword in her belly, his face darkens as growing silent for a moment. “Is it your brother?”

She chuckles softly, a pained expression donning her face. “You've got it right, as always.” she winces as Lucifer slowly heals her whilst peeling the swords away from her belly.

“... Cecilia… please… survive… you still have your mission as a heroine to-” he pauses. A kiss… it's cold.

“You know well just how close I am to death, Lucifer.” She rests her head on his shoulder. “you can see it… right? My heart it's… slowing down.”

His voice cracks in sorrow. “Why… why must it be you… Aren’t you the prophesied heroine? How has it become this way!?”

“...I don’t know. I don’t even know if I really was the prophesied child.” She stares at him weakly, her breathing becoming weak and unstable. “Be it as a wretched demoness or a glorious heroine, I’m glad I’ve managed to at least save you… Lucifer… ”

He carries her after peeling that repulsive red sword from her back. He sobs silently, hugging her dearly as if holding a glass rose. “I love you… I love you… I love you…”

She smiled sadly, “... I love you too, Lucifer.” Her eyes dimmed slowly. “...I’m sorry, I couldn't give you the end you've always wanted…” her eyes closed slowly, arm falling limp to her side.

“...I love you… So please…” he hugs her cold body, hatred and sadness boiling in him. “Don't leave me all alone…”

:> This is a one-shot. Though I could definitely explore expanding the story, requests and suggestions are absolutely welcomed. It is my first time writing one. Hopefully, it's satisfactory.

[ineedyoutofreeme]

In highschool I met a girl who reminded me of you

It physically hurt me to look at her-

She didn't have your face, but she had your laugh

Her nails were bitten bloody and she wrote in a journal she took with her everywhere

I made art for her, I wanted to impress her so bad

My love for you was an open wound

I wanted to know if she could love me-

Like it would prove something, stop the bleeding

It hurt so bad to look at her

I applied the tourniquet, cut it off, I knew I shouldn't get too close

We never hung out, barely even spoke

I met her in the school's Gay Straight Alliance (GSA) club

I didn't attend very long

I made colorful LGBTQ+ posters, but had to redo them-

The school wanted me to put BLTQG or something fucking stupid like that

Make it unrecognizable, unreadable

The teacher who ran it was so passionate, so sorry

I was the first trans person to join and she was excited, and then her face sort of fell-

"Sorry, I know, the school wouldn't let me call it a G-S-T-A"

It feels like cosmic irony now

But really, the only reason I went was to see you-

Her-

I hadn't thought about it for a while

I was driving home from work playing the playlist I made about you

I wear my heart on my sleeve but I try so hard to lie to myself about how it feels

I lied to you-

I think about you all the time

I keep ideas of people

I think fondly about all my exes,

Not in the sort of way you'd expect, I wouldn't leave my husband for anyone

I just really liked them as people, for one reason or another

I wish we were still friends, mostly I just hope they're loved and doing well

I know it could never be the same

You're not the idea in my head

That person doesn't exist, forever a kid

Dancing in the living room, running barefoot down the street

Passing notes in math class, roleplaying over text

Listening to me talk on the phone about my new school, my new friends

I don't remember a lot of it anymore, I feel memories warping and slipping away from me

In ten years will I still miss you?

Probably.

I hope you are loved, I hope you are doing well, I hope you never read this, unless you wanted to

I hope I never hear from you again, I hope you call me if you want to

I think about you all the time, you were a joy to have in my life, you are my muse

You are the reason I got so into writing, you always made me want to make art

It wasn't perfect, but it was us

I don't look for you everywhere anymore, because there was only ever one of you

I wish I was a better person back then, so I'll try to be now

I think of you with a tear in my eye, and the biggest, stupidest smile

"I'm not prettier than you. As soon as you open your mouth, I'm never prettier than you."

"We really don't know how to talk to each other anymore, my god. Other than that weird secret dialect soul mates have."

"Hahahaha!! Oh my god we kept missing each other. I knew I loved you from the moment I saw you. In your stupid (endearing) socks. Thank you for telling me, I'd been wondering."

"I love you and have loved you more intensely than anyone I've ever known. I'm so sorry to do this right now. I wanted to be honest."

"Regardless of whether or not you ever, I know that I definitely love you. That's the only reason that even after all of this time I still feel this steady weight in my chest. But that doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry for my part in the chaos. Not completely because some of our chaos was beautiful, but the end was bleak."

"I will never have another friend, or whatever you are, seems more, like you. You are a unique experience that I won't encounter again."

[arend000-blog]

Hello welcome to my blog. If you came here because you were confused as to what the heck is going on in one of my posts I hope this post will help.

Here’s some basic information if you want more it’s under the read more

In normal text it's Nick, “me”, you can assume it's me if there's no other indication in the tags if i think it's necessary i’ll add Nk: in the tag to clarify it's him speaking.

In red and/or cursed we got Azerium, the demon, in the tags i’ll lead with Az: if he’s saying it.

Green is the overworked and tired Berrian, half-elf feywanderer ranger, Br: in the tags

And finally in golden text it's Amashiel, the angel, going by Am: in the tags.

Quick reference: me, Ames, Az, Berrian, me and Az, me using my powers, god of true ends🎶

Boreon, Sol, Cinys

Who are using this different font cause i ran out of colours a bit

Boreon is a ghost with ice powers

Sol is some kind of sun spirit

And Cinys is a lying manipulative ash demon

All of us (except Cinys) are no longer sharing my body, still sharing the account though it is an rp thing it's just me playing them they're not actually living in my head

Hope this helps!

Alright time to introduce them properly

Let’s start with “me” Nick(this is me for all intents and purposes, no this is not my real name but you may address me as such), he/him pronouns (at least at the moment i don’t really know my own gender or sexuality so the best you can get out of me regarding my oc’s is pronouns), okay so he’s kinda stuck in a roguelite-like kind of loop spanning the entire life of the multiverse, link here if i ever write that down, he's an inter dimensional gaurdian but he can’t really use his powers at the moment (don’t tell the-crimson-river-society or florida, i’m trying to keep up appearances), the only one with common sense and enough self restraint to not stab people, has the most control over who gets the body, still ends up sleep deprived despite only needing two hours of sleep, likes milk chocolate, doesn’t like swearing and is currently playing host to an angel and a demon but probably more somewhere down the line.

Okay onto Azerium, the living blade, as they like to call themself, a demon straight from hell and actually got banished from there for promoting the idea to kill all the damned souls now, since they would end up down there anyways, it didn't help that he’s a halfbreed, a result of a succubus and a fallen angel, which makes him the lowest ranked demon in hell even below puny imps, pronouns are he/they, might look like they’ll go apeshit but will actually sit down and let you cry your emotions out before setting the responsible party's house on fire hopefully with them in it, only wants to kill the damned souls, supports the lgbtq+ with pure chaos energy especially the arsonists, somehow pretty good and responsible with kids, also the one who usually gets us out of trouble, he’s the only one with actual combat training and is also training us, absolutely loves duels and fights especially if there’s swords involved, despite having wings he can’t actually fly, has a tiefling like prehensile tail, likes dark chocolate, swears the most easily out of us and often takes over to have Nick not swear.

Now for the angel Amashiel, protector of the innocent, got kicked out of heaven by the archangels because she wanted to guide humanity instead of simply sitting back and letting them figure out their own problems, may look like a cinnamon bun but will absolutely go on a crusade should someone hurt one of their friends or loved ones, also has only one brain cell which is mostly occupied with figuring out how absolutely everything works, might make it as an technician if she remembers to unplug whatever they are dismantling, initially disliked Azerium but now they quarrel like siblings, somehow the more vengeful of the two, also the more annoying one, we call her Ames, might look like the team mom but is somehow the most irresponsible one out of us, they almost got us electrocuted twice already, also not good with kids, inexplicably has sparkles appear whenever they are in control, she's also british somehow, hard to piss off even harder to calm down, likes white chocolate and pronouns are she/they.

Fun tidbit, apparently chocolate is a very good substitute for prayers and whatever the heck demons get their powers from, screams, terror, human souls? nah it’s just terror if we used human souls for power we’d run out of ones to torture Oh alright!

Quick rundown of abilities and powers:

Nick: having a body, knowing how the human world works, phoenix fire healing power, being the best host an angel could pray for, thanks ames, having potential as an eldritch knight, creating and stabilising portals, being able to go into a trance like state and keeping all the other ones on track.

Azerium: being able to transform his arms into tentacle blades, fighting skills, having a prehensile tail, being able to set his hands on fire and simple curse magic. i also have my own blog now @azerium don't tell the other

Amashiel: creating force fields, simple healing and blessing magic, flight and emitting enough light to rival a lighthouse.

Together we got resistance to non supernatural damage and a downright immunity to fire, also only needing two hours of sleep a day.

And here's the posts with some charcter artwork

Ames is now working for osha