#the feeling of love for them is bittersweet resentment

[intcrastra]

While Jing Yuan does hold Dan Feng and Yingxing so fondly in his heart, and will say it as such ( and truly DOES feel that way ), he also bears a heavy resentment against them both at the very same time. For leaving him, just as Baiheng and Jingliu did. For not asking him to come with them and partake in their plan, keeping him in the dark and ultimately leaving him alone to pick up the pieces of his heart after each and every loss.

He loves them dearly even now, but will never forgive them this.

[imaginarianisms]

1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.

[ricciardosheart]

I dont want to ruin your career - CL16

summary - (y/n) is pregnant and does not want to tell Charles Leclerc she is pregnant and starts to stay away from Charles and tries to break up with him because she knows he would not be able to help with the child and she does not want him to be guilty of that

pairing - charles leclerc X f reader

warnings - angsty, and fluff ending and mentions of pregnancy

authors note - I cried like balled my eyes out when I wrote this I was in the ovulation phase, women you can understand,please read at your own discretion, not proofread, this is part one

Amid the glitz and glamour of Monaco, (Y/N) stood in the dimly lit living room, her heart racing as she gazed at the ultrasound image in her hand. The soft glow of the city outside cast a bittersweet hue on her tear-streaked face. She knew that this moment would forever change her life and the life of the man she loved.

Charles Leclerc, the charismatic F1 driver, had captured her heart with his charm and passion. But now, as she held the proof of their love in her hands, a sense of apprehension gripped her. She knew the sacrifices he made for his racing career, the countless hours he spent away from home, the demands that would only intensify with time.

Days turned into weeks, and the truth grew heavier on her shoulders. Unable to shake the anxiety that gnawed at her, (Y/N) withdrew from Charles, avoiding his calls and creating distance between them. She believed she was sparing him from the burden of her secret, from the guilt that would inevitably come from being torn between his dreams and the reality of fatherhood.

Yet, on that fateful night, as the Austin Grand Prix roared through the television screen, (Y/N) knew she could no longer hide. She stood in the center of their shared apartment, her suitcase packed, her heart aching.

The door clicked open, and Charles walked in, exhaustion etched across his face. "Hey," he greeted, his smile fading as he noticed the suitcase. "What's going on?"

(Y/N)'s voice trembled as she looked into his eyes, unable to meet his gaze for long. "Charles, we need to talk."

He stepped closer, concern furrowing his brows. "What's wrong, (Y/N)? You've been distant lately. Is something bothering you?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she finally confessed, "I'm pregnant, Charles."

Silence hung in the air, the weight of her words echoing between them. Charles stared at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Pregnant? Are you… Are we going to have a child?"

She nodded, her heart pounding. "Yes. But I can't let you be burdened by this. Your career, your dreams… I don't want you to feel guilty for not being there. I'm moving out."

Charles' face contorted, a blend of shock, disbelief, and a hint of pain. "Moving out? (Y/N), no. We're in this together. I want to be there for you, for our child."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head, her voice a broken whisper. "Charles, I love you too much to see you give up your dreams, to see you resent me and our child. I can't let that happen."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch her arm gently. "You don't have to make this decision alone. We're a team, (Y/N). Let's figure this out together."

(Y/N) pulled away, her resolve trembling. "No, Charles. It's not fair to you. I can't let you sacrifice your dreams for us. I won't."

His voice grew softer, filled with desperation. "And what about your dreams, (Y/N)? What about the life we've planned together?"

She turned away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'll find a way. I'll go back home to Monaco. I'll raise our child with my family's support. But you need to focus on your career."

Charles stepped forward, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're making this decision for both of us without even giving me a say. (Y/N), I want to be a father. I want to be a part of our child's life, and I want to be with you."

Tears fell freely as (Y/N) met his gaze, her heart aching at his vulnerability. "I know you say that now, but as time goes on, the pressure will only increase. I don't want you to regret staying with me."

His expression softened, his voice gentle. "I won't regret it, (Y/N). I would regret not being there for you, for us."

Weeks turned into a painful blur, (Y/N) moving out of their apartment, the distance between them growing as she avoided places she knew Charles would be. She built walls around her heart, believing it was the only way to protect both of them from the challenges ahead.

But as days turned into nights, loneliness crept in, and she found herself yearning for the familiar warmth of his embrace. Then, one evening, a knock echoed through her quiet house in Monaco.

(Y/N) opened the door to find Charles standing there, his eyes searching hers. "We need to talk," he said, his voice firm.

She hesitated, but finally stepped aside to let him in. They settled in the living room, facing each other with a mixture of tension and longing.

"Tell me the truth, (Y/N)," Charles demanded. "Why did you hide from me? Why did you try to push me away?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she met his gaze, her voice trembling. "I was trying to protect you, Charles. I didn't want you to feel trapped by responsibilities you weren't ready for. I didn't want you to be burdened by guilt."

His expression softened, his eyes filled with empathy. "You were willing to give up everything for me?"

She nodded, her voice barely audible. "I love you. I didn't want you to resent me or our child. I wanted you to have the life you've always dreamed of."

Charles reached out, his hand cupping her cheek, his touch gentle. "And what about the life we've dreamed of together? (Y/N), I should have been there for you. I should have supported you."

Tears streamed down her face as the weight of her decisions crashed down on her. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you."

He pulled her into a heartfelt embrace, holding her close. "You don't have to do it alone. I want to be here for you, for our child. I want to be a father, and I want to be with you, no matter the challenges."

(Y/N) clung to him, her heart finally giving in to the love and the support she had denied herself. As their tears mingled, the walls that had separated them crumbled, and a sense of hope blossomed in their hearts.

In that moment, they realized that love was about facing challenges together, about being vulnerable and open to each other's struggles. Charles had come to understand (Y/N)'s motivations, and he felt a deep sense of regret for not being there for her during her time of need.

Their journey was far from easy, but they faced it as a united front, supporting each other through the highs and lows. Their love, once tested by distance and fear, now stood stronger than ever, ready to weather any storm that came their way.

[esoteric-oracle]

//long rambles ahead!

I think what really lingers with me about MDZS is that it's not a novel with a cathartic ending at all. It's a bittersweet story that leaves you slightly hollow. Yes, it's a beautiful and epic romance. It's a piece of social commentary interwoven with a love story and murder mystery. It's a cautionary tale. But it is also very much a tragedy. It's a story about being too late, second chances, and moving on.

By the time the truth of everything JGY and JGS did comes to light, it's 13 years too late. Everything that mattered has already happened. Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan are long dead. Jin Ling is still an orphan. Wen Ning is dead, and sometime in the future, his death will be permanent. Wen Qing was burned to death at the stake for no fault of her own. Nie Mingjue has already spent ten years in a no-doubt agonizing state of un-death, and Lan Xichen will have to bear the guilt of loving both Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, and by doing so, forsaking them both. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng's once-close bond is irrevocably broken, and the woman who sowed the seeds of resentment when they were still children will never face the consequences of her vitriol.

People sometimes say MXTX was too hard on the side characters, and only gave the Wangxian a happy ending, but what stuck with me after finishing the story is how… sad things are. Yes, Wangxian finally get the happy ending they've deserved for nearly 20 years - but at the same time, it's not a happy ending where the people who've wronged them get the consequences they deserve.

Wei Wuxian will spend the rest of his life haunted by guilt and loss, over what happened to Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan, over the loss of the Wen remnants. The rest of his years won't even be lived in the body his parents gave him.

Lan Wangji will spend the rest of his years wondering if he'd chosen to stand with Wei Wuxian when it mattered - would his son have had to grow up without his birth family?

Nie Huaisang is left wondering if his brother had been a little less trusting and had never taken Meng Yao in as a Nie deputy, would his brother have died a less wretched death? Would he have been forced to stoop to ruthless machinations and manipulations to seek some semblance of justice?

Wen Ning will have to live with the knowledge that if he'd been a little less kind, if he'd let Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng die that fateful day - his family would still be alive. The Wens would've won the war; Wen Qing might've even succeeded Wen Ruohan.

No one really gets the ending they deserve. MDZS isn't a story where good people get happy endings, and bad people get their dues. Sure, Jin Guangyao's crimes are revealed and he faces the consequences of his actions. But what about the people who stood by and made him into a monster? If anything, the side characters and antagonists who survive get better than they deserve. The real villain of MDZS - society - will never face retribution. Those cultivators who always believed in their own bigotry and righteousness over and over again, will never face justice.

Do you think those cultivators and the public will ever feel any regret for the innocent people they condemned to death in their own prejudice and blind self-righteousness? Do you think the people who gathered at Nightless City to call for Wei Wuxian's death considered for one second that he was the biggest reason they won the war? When the cultivators who sacked the Wen settlement at the Burial Mounds threw the bodies of the Wens into the blood pool, do you think that was a sign of shame?

Do you think Jiang Cheng will ever regret leading a siege on a small settlement of innocent farmers? Do you think he's haunted by condemning to death the same people whom he owes his life to?

Do you think those people like Yao-zongzhu will ever feel an ounce of remorse for so easily believing rumours and hearsay, and spreading speculation and vitriol about innocent people?

Do you think that unnamed cultivator out there will ever lose a single minute of sleep over smashing in Wen Popo's head?

In the years that follow, Wen Ning will have apologized a hundred times for lives he did not take, crimes he did not commit, because of the name he bears. People, both in-universe, and even readers, will condemn him for actions he could not help, for doing the right thing. But did Jiang Cheng ever apologize for killing his family? Did the Jins ever apologize for their horrific treatment of people in the labour camps?

People will continue to demand that Wei Wuxian apologize for causing the deaths of their friends and family. But how is Wei Wuxian meant to do that? No one ever apologized to him for taking his family away. No one ever apologized for condemning the Wen Remnants to death for crimes they took no part in. The Wens were his family too.

There's so much potential for bitterness and corruption in MDZS. Instead of saving everyone, Wei Wuxian could've stood aside and let the people who tried to kill him die. MDZS could've been a story of succumbing to hatred and grief, but it wasn't. MXTX could've gone on and on about how society wronged the protagonist, but she didn't. The narrative is one of forgiveness and moving beyond past grievances. The story chose to close the story on a positive note. I truly love that aspect of MDZS, where MXTX leaves just enough room for hope and love at the end.

A-Yuan will finally get his closure about the family he lost as a toddler. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get their happy ending together after being separated by nearly two decades by war, miscommunication, cruelty, and death.

Wei Wuxian will never regret protecting survivors of an attempted genocide, because it was the right thing to do.

And Wen Ning will still stand in the way and take a fatal blow meant for Jin Ling, despite everything the Jins and Jiang Cheng did to the people he loved.

Because they chose love. Characters like Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning and Lan Wangji have the chance to move on and live a happier life because when they could've succumbed to hurt and fury and resentment, they chose to be kind and do the right thing. Wangxian get their happy ending because they learn to recognize the toxicity of the cultivation society's self-cannibalizing prejudice, and chose to pursue righteousness above personal benefit.

MDZS isn't a story about good people getting good things. Just look at what happened to Xiao Xingchen. There's really nothing satisfying or cathartic about everyone's fates at all. There's no promise about society facing the consequences of their mob mentality or Wangxian actually changing the world together. Even in TGCF, for all its makings of a love story, we get the promise of societal change once Jun Wu is deposed.

It has all the makings to be a tragedy or tale of vengeance of epic proportions - but instead, it's a love story. It's a story about making the best of what you've got, and staying true to yourself and your morals, even if that's sometimes a bitter pill to swallow. It's a story where everything that could go wrong went wrong, but the characters still managed to fight their way to a better ending by choosing kindness. At its core, MDZS is a testament to choosing compassion over cruelty no matter how tragic and hopeless life gets, no matter how long the journey gets. Even though the happy ending is more personal and only applies to the specific characters, even though we don't actually get the promise of their society becoming a better place - we still have the hope that Wei Wuxian's second chance brings. The hope that sometimes, no matter how cruel the world is, some people who deserve it still get their happy endings. That's what makes MDZS such a memorable work of art. That's why it stays with you.

[wisteria-cherry]

(quick lil drabble hi)

(haven’t proofread lol hope for the best)

(feel free to comment + give ur thoughts :)

“he held her”

dad! bakugo x f!reader

bittersweet, pro hero! dad! bakugo, established relationship

when bakugo sees his daughter in graduation robes, bachelor degree in hand, he freezes.

he stares at her, his little girl, and wonders how she fit in her robes so perfectly because he could’ve sworn she was still small enough to fit in her high chair. he remembers it vividly.

bakugo remembers when she had her crib, when she would wake up and cry in the middle of the night as he walked into yours and his and her shared bedroom after a late patrol and how he’d slide his gloves and gauntlets off and put them on the middle of the floor, even though you always chastised him for it. he’d wipe the sweat secreting from his hands on his pants hastily as he walked over to the crib, shushing her quietly so she wouldn’t wake you up because god knows you needed the sleep. he’d pick her up and hold her and hold her, watching her face that had his vermillion eyes and his blonde curls and your lips and nose. he held her.

bakugo remembers when she was new to the world of school and she was playing soccer. she scored a goal, her first goal of the season and the winning goal of the game. he remembers convincing kirishima to cover his patrol because there’s no way in hell he’d miss that game for anything. he remembers when she threw up her hands in celebration and sparks came from them. he nearly cried in pride as she pulled her arms down and stared at her hands in shock. her face lit up and then she immediately looked to her parents. bakugo looked at you. you were looking at him and your expression was just as bright and beautiful as his daughter’s. his daughter ran up to him, encasing him in a tight hug. he held her.

bakugo remembers when she was a teenager and things got complicated. he finally got number one hero. he was consumed by pride and he wanted to keep his position so he can be number one and provide for his family as number one. his daughter decided she wanted to be a hero, too. bakugo started working more, taking on more shifts, staying later at the office. he came home late almost every day. his daughter began to doubt his resolve to spend time with her and her mother. he remembered marking off his daughters birthday on the calendar, determined to make her party to make it up to her, but then a huge office building was under attack that same day and every hero in the area was called to the scene. bakugo missed the party. when he came home, his daughter was crying on the front doorstep. he was at a loss for words. his daughter wasn’t. she resented him. he wanted to hold her. he didn’t hold her.

bakugo remembers his daughter video calling him while he was away on a mission excitedly telling him that she’d gotten into her dream college. he went on many missions abroad and he didn’t remember how but they mended their relationship through video calls and spending time together during the few times he was home. he remembers going home the next day and you and him and his daughter celebrated. he remembers being secretly thankful that the college was close— she’d live at home for college in order to save money, despite knowing that her family had more than enough of it.

bakugo remembers the college years, where she thrived. you would often tell your husband that you saw his work ethic in her— passionate and unrelenting. he took it as a source of pride. he remembers her being in the top of many of not most of her classes. he remembers when she’d come into his office at his agency and do her homework while he wrote reports. he remembers hating her first boyfriend but warming up to him ever so slightly when she pulled bakugo aside and whispered, “please be nice to him, daddy. i really love him.” he remembers the night her first love dumped her and she cried so hard that night. he was going to go straight out the door and destroy the pathetic boy when you grabbed his wrist and he turned around to face your gentle expression. he remembers you telling him that she doesn’t need him to destroy her ex-boyfriend, she needs bakugo to be there for her. so bakugo was. and he held her.

the memories are there, but where did the time go?

“i did it, daddy.” his little girl beamed. “are you proud of me?”

bakugo wants to cry. he tries not to cry. he prides himself on being a rock for his family, being a rock for his girls, wife and daughter. he feels trusted and valuable when you or his daughter come to him in tears and he’s able to diminish them.

but he cries anyway.

and he holds her.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

hshshs it seems this gacha wants my soul ,,!! can i also pull for starsending robes deuce ? it's a 50/50 ,, :o

Jamil Viper: Bittersweet

Hello Venaue! ☆

Thank you so much for pulling on the Gacha of Love ♡ I'm sorry to say that you lost the 50/50, but congrats on getting Starsending Robes Jamil! Here is your card, enjoy! ♡ (It was almost Floyd, but the wheel stopped right before it could go over the line lol ♡)

If you would like to pull on the Gacha of Love too, you can find the event here ♡

"Do you like Name, Jamil?" Kalim suddenly asks one day, the two of them alone in the Scarabia sitting room. Jamil tensed at the question, knowing he's done good at hiding his affection for you. There's no way anyone should have noticed, let alone Kalim, Jamil shaking his head as he kept his face neutral.

"No... why?" He questions back, doing his best to stay calm. The feelings he had for you were private, hidden in the depths of his heart. He may no longer deny them to himself, but there's no way he was letting Kalim know, already imagining what his reaction would be. The last thing he needed was Kalim intervening, let alone playing matchmaker.

Kalim perks up at his question, a smile coming to his face as he shouts, "Oh! So you're alright if I ask them out, then?" taking Jamil by surprise. He knew Kalim had been spending more with you recently, fighting the urge to frown as the memories came back to him. If he had known it would lead to this, he wouldn't have...

He wouldn't have let it happen, his mind finished for him, feeling too bitter to speak. Of course Kalim had to fall for you, the only person Jamil wants, the one he's in love with.

He just can't have anything, can he?

"..." He stands there silent, his arms crossed as his expression grew dark, matching the inner turmoil he felt. He turns without saying a word, ignoring Kalim as he left, making his way towards his room.

"Jamil?" Kalim calls out, wondering if he said something wrong. Jamil turns for a moment, his eyes flashing with resentment before he schools his features, calmly saying, "... Do what you wish. I can't stop you." closing the door.

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

[neteyamyawne]

🫀— Another Love

༄ Pairing : Lo'ak x Fem!Na'vi!Reader

༄ Summary : He slowly falls for another and all you can do is see him be happy with her like he was once with you.

༄ Warning : Jealousy, slight one-sided love, falling out of love, emptiness (emotional), sadness, confrontation.

༄ Prompts : Falling out of love.

༄ Word count : 1.2k, proof read.

༄ Note : This is me first time writing for lo'ak so idk much 🥹 I'm improving for him!

༄ Glossary : [Tiyawn] - Love, [Yawne] - beloved.

◦ Angstmas || Masterlist

You saw it, of course you did, anyone who wasn't lo'ak saw it loud and clear…

Your favorite leather armband? Gone, the river stone choker? Gone and nowhere to be found until you saw Tsireya wearing it. The inkling of downfall starting from the smallest of things.

The swimming lessons were always him and her paired up, at first it was you, the one who left her forever home for him to come here, to an unknown clan and living in between unknown people, just for his love… your love..

His eyes were unfocused as you say near the coast with him, though his hand rested on your thigh, his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought, it was like, he was your lo'ak anymore.

“Ma lo'ak… are you okay? You seem distracted” his eyes snapped back at your face, a sheepish smile forming in his face as he squeezed your thigh softly.

“Yeah, yeah I'm good, Tiyawn” he whispered before his eyes trailed back to the shallow waters, where Tsireya taught the metkayina children how to ride the ilus and for a moment you thought if he suggested to go for a walk on the beach for a certain reason.

She looked splendid, everything a female should look like, the small shell at the crown of her head, the neat braids that cascaded down her back in tight curls would easily make anyone fall in love with her and from the way she sat close to him, her hand on his chest during breathing practice and his breath would stutter at her touch Every. Single. Time.

The dots were connecting but you weren't ready to admit it, it was hard to accept the fact that the one you love the most was falling out of love with you “Lo'ak, what's going on?? I know you're hiding something… I know”

He was startled by your confrontation, a look of guilt spreading over his features, though he looked unsurprised by your question, which only meant one thing, he anticipated it.

“I- I… it's nothing, y/n forget about it, it's stupid” he looked away embarrassed, he didn't want to say it, who would when they knew it would break the heart of the person who left everything behind for them.

“It's Tsireya… isn't it?” Your words grabbed his attention so fast it almost snapped his neck, eyes wide in surprise and resentment… not for you though, for himself.

He shakes his head worried about how he would be able to explain about this complicated feeling but if he saw deep enough, the answer was right there… the ocean eyed, metkayina princess.

“Y/n, No, it's- it's not… i mean yeah but-” he was struggling to form words as his eyes darted between you and her as if he was watching a ping-pong match.

But your heart sank deeper with every second of his hesitation, a void yawning open in the middle of your chest as you clearly saw the love on his face but it wasn't for you, as much as it broke your heart, it wasn't for you.

He was miserably failing to explain his side but you saw the yearning in his eyes for her, a bittersweet smile graced your lips and your hands trembled, so you fisted them as you spoke the next words “Go to her, It's okay… Go to her”

The stunned silence on his face was enough for you to break down right then and there, you loved this man with your entire life and this is how it ends? You let go? But it'll only hurt more if you hold on, though…

“Sweetheart- what are you saying…? Go to her? Are you sure?” That's when the tear slid down your cheek and his frown covered his features, knowing that his truth was your end, but what hurt the most is that he asked ‘are you sure?’ he was ready to go, there was no point in holding back.

It felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest and shredding it into ribbons with your own two hands as you simply hid your pain behind a smile and teary eyes and nodded “yes, Lo'ak, go to her… as you want, you can go to her… i guess your love wasn't as strong as you said it was”

The hesitation and guilt was written all over his face as he saw the tears in your eyes, the hurt in your voice, nothing but regret filled him as he never thought this day would come “I'm so sorry… So damn sorry” he held your hand tightly but there was no warmth in it, his words were like Ash in your mouth, they meant nothing to you now.

“Just go… leave, go away” your eyes averted back to Tsireya who was unaware of the conversation, anger simmered in your chest but it didn’t cover the hurt that caved your chest, the jealousy that raged in your mind but you hid it well.

Lo'ak frowned, the little braids that framed his face falling away from his eyes, getting up from his spot beside you… biting his lip nervously as he knew he fucked up big times “Yawne, I'm really sorry… I hope you understand… I'm-”

But you got up "stop it please! Just go away! I- I don't want to talk, please!" and left, not wanting to hear the reason why you failed to be the one for him, it was all a mistake, a mistake to leave your home for the person who you thought was your everything, a mistake that he would be your love forever, a mistake to ever think he'd never leave you for someone else.

His heart sank as she watched you walk away after the truth was out, he felt terrible, HORRIBLE, for breaking your heart after everything you did for him but he couldn't keep you leading into a ditch after he knew his feelings were lost for you and held onto another and with a defeated sigh he walked towards Tsireya, with a smile, as if nothing happened and he didn't just leave you, the person who left her whole life behind for him, for the girl he met a few months ago.

Even when you walked away from him, sobs leaving your lips silently, you couldn't help but stop and watch from behind a boulder with tears glistening your cheeks as the smile he once gave you shone brighter when he looked at her instead, the look he gave you once now almost glowed with love for her.

Were you not worth it? Did your sacrifice mean nothing to him? Was it that easy for him to forget you and move on? After you spent years loving him? The questions swirled in your mind but there were no answers to justify them as the person you saw your future with left you with just your thoughts in a clan where you don't know anyone and had to live with his family to top it off.

You were foolish to think that he would keep loving you… but were you? Is this what you deserved? To be left alone and broken in a place you don't know anyone, away from your home and family and betrayed by the person you trusted the most? No, but your heart still broke as you say the on golden shores of metkayina but nothing seemed so colorful as it was to you before this happened…

Ho Ho Ho : @cryinginthemoonpool, @luvv4j4ybe11, @xylianasblog, @plooto, @itchaboi-itchyboy, @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @thewiltedpeony, @neteyamswillow, @danniackerman, @hotdsworld, @zafrinaxyz, @xstarsdiary, @moondaisye, @puddle-nerd, @eywxveng, @minnory, @neteyamssyulang, @tavsianus, @ele-sme.

• Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next two angstmas fics!

©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

What if MC saw death coming and was planning to fight it all along?

(Bear with me, my creativity levels are low so it looks like we're getting some impromptu self-insert MC lore/Arcana plot study -)

I understand a lot of why the MC is written the way they are - some of it is necessary for the plot, and many plot points themselves are necessary to set up an MC so vague that any reader would be able to see themself in them. But it's so easy to let a vague character become a passive character, and I'm not a passive reader. So here's my reconstruction of how Drue handled the Red Plague xD

What if the disagreement with Asra wasn't a fight? What if it was two best friends staring at the same problem and knowing, as different people, that they had different solutions to offer?

What if Asra left, not just because they valued their safety, but because in line with their own working style they thought they'd be able to help most by taking a step back and checking in with old connections for new approaches to curing the Plague?

What if Asra asked Drue to come with him out of a desire to see him safe, but already expected and respected his decision to stay where he could make the biggest difference?

What if parting ways didn't happen on an emotional high as a lover's quarrel got too intense, but was instead planned by two friends helping each other tackle the same problem from different sides?

What if they both knew and openly acknowledged what Drue was risking when he chose to stay, and that Asra's actions were in some part fueled by his fears?

What if Drue stayed up late the night before Asra left to help him pack, each of them playfully threatening the other to stay safe - that's their best friend they're taking care of?

What if Asra quietly mumbled "You'd better not die" and Drue shot back with "Like you wouldn't bring me back so you could kill me for it yourself!"

What if that led to a very sleep-deprived, 2 AM promise that if Asra wandered too far and got lost, Drue would find them and take them home, and if Drue got too close to the Plague and died, Asra would bring him back?

What if the reason Asra still feels so torn about leaving isn't because they feel like they abandoned their friend? What if that night is achingly bittersweet to them, because they felt how openly, platonically, and purely loved they were even while their own romantic feelings stayed hidden and unrequited?

What if Julian and Asra already knew about each other and had good opinions of each other because of how highly Drue spoke of them, either in letters to the magician, or over drinks after an exhausting, discouraging day treating patients?

What if Nadia came to recognize him, if not directly know him, because he was always perched on the top of a bookshelf in the library bumping his head on the ceiling as he devoured encyclopedias?

What if Muriel came to distance himself from him, because Drue was the only person who heard the Scourge rumors and ended up seeing his actions for himself in a desire to investigate?

What if the reason Muriel still doesn't want to connect with him (until he's forced to) is because the last time he saw Drue's face was in the Coliseum stands and he can't bring himself to face him or talk about it?

What if Lucio's resentment towards Drue goes way further back than the ritual, to his ongoing habit of sticking his nose where it didn't belong and investigating/confronting all his shady deals?

What if, when the letters stopped and Asra returned, the idea to resurrect Drue came from that unhinged pact and not from a refusal to acknowledge reality?

What if Drue as a conscious ghost was able to work in small ways, flipping book pages with a light breeze or sending the Countess dreams of Lucio's planned ritual, comforting and reassuring his friends that this was a path he was ready to take with them?

What if the only time Asra went rogue was when the moment came to strike a bargain, and they volunteered half their heart to pay the price when the planned offer wasn't enough?

What if Asra's relaxed attitude towards Drue's dependency on them as his caretaker didn't come out of comfort with being needed so badly, but instead out of the knowledge that he always had and always would be as independent as life would let him?

What if Drue as the MC didn't use his resilience to roll with life as it happened, but instead took Fate by the teeth because he had loved ones to live for and way too much stubborn spite to fall asleep that easy?

Just my thoughts :3

[seineko]

it's kind of mind-blowing how the scene that is an almost line-to-line copy from the book to the drama can be so completely different.

lan wangji meeting wei wuxian and a-yuan in the novel and the drama is kind of similar, but the underline is so different.

in the drama, it is the reunion of two friends, two zhiji's, whose relationship has strained over the course of a war and it's aftermath.

in the novel, however, it is the meeting of two people who could've been something. meeting of two where one longs to be able to help the one he loves and regrets the way he treated the said person and one who found a small piece of his old life before everything went into flames. it's full of regrets and the entire scene itself is so bittersweet because you remember that this is the most civil conversation they both had in ages that was not woven with threads of misunderstandings and insecurities.

wei wuxian from chen qing ling knew that lan wangji at least cared for him at one point. it was a matter of a best friend being worried. for lan wangji to show up at yiling for 'night hunt' means wei wuxian had the chance to talk to a friend, a somewhat constant in his life before things went into shit.

lan zhan from mo dao zu shi never got to tell wei ying that he even cares for him, wei ying never knew that lan zhan was never worried about him becoming evil but rather worried more about how much the resentful energy will affect his well-being. and for lan zhan to show up at yiling means wei ying was met with an acquaintance who he once wanted to be a constant but the circumstances and decisions on both their parts never let them be.

whenever i overthink about this series, i feel like sobbing in the shower. which is exactly what i am going to do right now. goodbye.

[aloesarchives]

JJK Drabble #1

Tw/Warnings: Angsts/Bittersweet, mention of one minor death, Fem!Reader & Fem! Pronouns

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

I was way too inspired by @rosipuree(PLEASE FOLLOW THEM OR READ THEIR WORK) "Haunted" that I wrote a quick blurb with my personal Take/Idea based on their work. I'll make a poll if you guys want me to make this a mini series or not.

Y'ALL PART ONE IS OUT RN: HERE

I always wanted to write about Reader being in a relationship with Toji but it becomes unhealthy because Toji hasn't moved on from Megumi's Biological mom and just angst. So here is my take on how I'd imagine this Toji x Fem!Reader angst with Megumi x Fem!Reader(platonic) bittersweet.

So you're seeing Toji but Toji is still obviously mourning Megumi’s mom. 

You are aware Toji really misses her and only truly loves her. His grief turns into rage whenever people mistake you for being Megumi’s real mom, you have a moment with Megumi, or god forbid he finds out Megumi calls you Mama in front of Toji so you correct Megumi every time. Arguments between the two happen because of it, heated ones which leaves you doubtful and alone. You take care of Megumi for the first three-four years of his life but leaves because Toji wasn’t ready to love love you and didn’t want to stay in a one-sided relationship. Megumi was clueless of your permanent absence once you leave but because he thought you would came back. Megumi asks for you continuously, staring at the door every time to see if you would come home. When Toji told Megumi you weren’t coming back at all, Megumi cried so hard that night the only way he got sleep was crying himself to exhaustion. 

 You treated Megumi like he was your own son and cared for him the best you can. You never made it your intention to replace his wife and Megumi’s bio mom. In fact, the thought of your intentions being seen as such made you anxious and nauseous. The efforts and lengths to have Megumi not refer to you as his mother, even though you were the only motherly figure he will ever have in his life, was both admirable and heartbreaking. You were a mother to Megumi, whether he was your blood son or not, but out of respect for his father/the man you were seeing, you kept it to a minimum. Toji knew it was all his doing. Feeling guilty for not treating you better and deservingly at that. What makes it worse was he didn’t try to save your two’s relationship at all and let you go. Breaking your heart even more because him not taking action means he never loved you enough to make you stay. 

Toji still hooks up with Tsumiki’s mom, taking her last name before splitting with her. Tsumiki’s mom was never home so Toji tries to care for Tsumiki on top of Megumi. Megumi never forgot about you and he still misses you dearly. It' to the point he keeps a hidden picture of you and him when you still were around, the only picture he has of you. He hides it from Toji because he knows he’ll take it away from him. Megumi ends up holding such resentment he has a deep grudge against Toji for making you leave and not loving you. It’s pretty bad to the point Tsumiki comforts Megumi at times when he cries about you, wishing you were here to take care of him and Tsumiki. He wishes for you to come back. Tsumiki tries to help Megumi by making him recall his memories of you. To which he speaks so fondly and happily when you take care of him. Megumi is happy that he has Tsumiki as family but his grudge against Toji is so strong that he doesn’t view Toji as his dad, just some guy that’s there with the father title. Becomes estranged to his own father because Toji’s never home often. Even for almost a decade, he never forgot your name or your presence. That’s how much he saw you even if you weren’t there for long and moved on with your life. Highkey Megumi doesn’t blame you for leaving his father. To him, Toji doesn’t have the right to love someone else if he was going to hold onto the memories of his late biological mother for so long that it hurts people in the process. He knew you were unfortunately one of them, one of the good ones that didn’t deserve to be punished for someone else’s lack of emotional maturity and healing.

Megumi and Tsumiki grow up and dorm at their respective schools. Megumi is dorming at Jujutsu High and went on a day trip with his class. As he’s walking through the streets, he spots a familiar figure in the crowd, you. After 10 years, he finally sees you again. He reaches out and sees it’s you. You haven’t aged at all, or at the very least gracefully so. But you were holding your baby daughter in your arms, meaning that you moved on and had another family of your own. You were surprised to see Megumi, telling him how much he’s grown. He wants to hug you, cry into you, call you Mama one more time. But something inside of him tells him not to. Even though he gets the closure he needed from many years of wanting to see you again, he still yearns for you because you’ll always be his mother. The only one he has. Seeing you with your own child makes him happy knowing you are happier with the family you always wanted deserved. And yet he can’t help but imagine it was him you were holding, not your daughter. Holding him in your arms, being his mom, and calling you mama one more time.

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[llondonfog]

No pls 😭 i hate the idea that raising Silver was a fun experiment out of curiosity to see if he could love a human or not, and that the answer still isnt clear. I hate the idea of Silver, the son of their enemy, being raised to be nothing but a soldier to serve Malleus in some poetic irony. I feel there’s love there but I’ve almost been transported into Silver’s mind where everything is melancholy and unclear. Does he matter as much as I believe he does 😭😭😭 or is it just a cruel tale of some foundling human always meant to be put somewhere else when the fairies are done with them

The thing is, is Silver capable of accepting the fact that Lilia's happiest moment is Malleus' hatching? Yeah, of course, who wouldn't. The man suffered for years, absolutely driven mad with guilt over Meleanor's death and the fear that he wouldn't be able to keep his promise and hatch the one thing that remained of her, the proof of her existence and love. He had to hatch Malleus, because Meleanor believed that he could, that he somehow carried enough love in those tired, aching, and emptied bones, a love that she saw in him when he couldn't even believe it of himself. If he couldn't, it would be one more insult to her name, a failure yet again, a last betrayal of her trust that he couldn't afford and wouldn't survive.

So that weeping? He's so damn dizzy with relief and love and affection for this silly creature inside that's a symbol of the love of the most important people in his life, how could one react in any other way? How fragile and vulnerable, to know that the happiest moment in Lilia's life is to realize after hundreds of years, he was capable of that love all along.

And Silver sees this— he sees the lengths that Lilia went to in order to hatch Malleus, the horrible abuse he stoically suffered from the Senate, the massive disrespect for all that he had lost and sacrificed. Of course he'd accept that this is Lilia's pivotal moment, the bittersweet reward for centuries of despair.

But on the other hand, Silver; a boy who has lost equally, if not more. He's been cast out of his own time, four hundred years into the future, where everyone and anyone who might have known him or his family (save for Lilia) has been long since dead, the kingdom he might have ruled long crumbled to dust. Is it even a footnote in the history textbook he reads? Is there any mention of the Knight of Dawn, of Princess Leia? Anything at all besides the ring in his hand and Lilia's memories to prove that they existed, that they were real, that they loved and wanted him as much as Meleanor had loved Malleus?

All he has, all he's known, is Lilia. Lilia, who found him, who woke him from the spell as the one fated to truly love him. Lilia who thought of killing him upon learning who had sired him, Lilia who raised him to be a guard, to serve those his father once stood against. Lilia who wondered if he could ever love a human, a question that I agree hasn't fully been answered (or acknowledged by Lilia himself) if we are to associate the fact Silver still bears the effects of the sleeping curse with the belief that either Lilia hasn't called him his son and confessed his love, or if Silver still struggles with self-love himself (and we can get into a whole debate over his self-worth and his view as a sacrificial tool, that's an endless discussion).

Lilia . . . whose happiest moment has nothing to do with the boy who calls himself Lilia's one and only son.

And regardless of how I fully understand why Malleus' hatching is that moment, it's still so fucking sad to me.

Your whole life is centered around this one person whom you love more than anyone else— your short, human life— and in reality, you didn't even feature in that person's dream. We only saw Silver's past due to the blot, memories that were completely out of order and not in sync with Lilia's true dream at all.

And Silver will never harbor resentment over this, he will always place his family and loved ones first, but damn it, I can be a little miserable about it. All that trauma we went through with the last update, and now we learn that finding Silver and learning to love the son of his greatest enemy (the son of the person that killed Meleanor!) wasn't Lilia's happiest moment?

Was it just for the poetic irony? I really hope not. I really hope that TWST gives the conversation that Lilia and Silver need to have the due gravity it deserves, because Lilia needs, whether Silver realizes it or not, to look that boy in the eye and tell him that he loves him, he's always been his son, and no matter what their pasts may show, he's been Silver Vanrouge all along.

[autistichalsin]

Yes, Halsin's arc had romance and leadership and trauma and redemption for past mistakes and war and society vs nature and "pain of altruism" themes...

But his arc was just as much about a man's search for family as anything else.

Every bit of Halsin's arc was about him protecting someone he saw as family.

Act one was his family at the Grove- "the Grove became my family," he says after telling the player he lost his parents and any other family he once had long ago. If they are saved, he makes what he feels is the best choice for them and appoints a new leader of the Grove like a parent letting another parent have custody when they know they aren't the most capable caregiver. If they are sealed off by the Rite of Thorns, Halsin grieves the loss of his home and the people inside. If they are killed, he mourns too, and in either case he can't bring himself to go back and he joins the player's camp. And if they are killed by the player and he doesn't die first, he comes to kill them in retribution.

The Grove helped him through the trauma of the Shadow Curse, it helped him learn about himself as an Archdruid, it helped him realize where his heart lay- and where it didn't. Halsin loves their companionship, but hates his leadership role when it extends beyond paternalism; "it is a terrible burden," he says. He feels too comfortable in the Grove, too separate from nature, and considering how much the leadership role is tied in to his trauma over the Shadow Curse, it's no wonder he resents it. He just wants them as his family, not as his underlings.

Act two was about Thaniel. "He made me who I am today," he says. Several devnotes make it quite clear that Halsin's feelings are paternal ones, towards Thaniel and Oliver both. When he says he thinks it will be good for them to have a friend in each other when he's gone, a devnote says, "a little bittersweet: the kids are growing up." When he notes later that the two play together often in his meditations, the devnote says "proud 'father'."

It makes sense in more ways than one; not only is Halsin paternal to these two particular beings, but then, as a Druid, Halsin is a caretaker to nature itself. As the spirits of the land, of course his feelings would be doubly so, especially given their history.

But before he gets to this point, act two is about searching for family he fears losing- he is terrified for Thaniel and doesn't know if or how to save him. This is the core of his entire arc, really- his arc continues after this, but Thaniel was the most important part of his arc. He is restless and anxious before, and once they do find him, he relaxes again.

Act three is half for the player, whether a friend or a romantic partner. "The Grove became my family... and now I have you," he says as the player gets to know him. The player, who protected him, showed him kindness, saved him from the goblins and now saved his not-quite-sons from the Shadow Curse. The player who, if in a romantic relationship, lets him admit he felt lost before and helped him find himself, ease his burdens. The player who either expresses condolences for the loss of his family or (in a presumably well intentioned if slightly obsessive way) tells him he's better with them anyway, still indicating that he is wanted. The player who lets him show his playful side again, who tends to his needs just as much as the other way around (clearly an uncommon dynamic for him to be in)... He gets to find parts of himself he hasn't in a long time. And as he finds a romantic family again, he gets to start turning his thoughts to the future again. As he can tell Wyll if one plays as him, "we'll need new life when this is over." The player gives him his future back, whether a friend or romantic, along with the family bond he misses after leaving the Grove. It's an even more free, open family than at the Grove, since here he's not forced to take a leadership role and hold himself to a higher standard.

The other part of act three is Halsin seeking family in community. He sees the vulnerable in the city of Baldur's Gate and feels a connection with them- especially the children, but also the refugees. He sees how they're hurting, and he develops a dream "of a better future for those who need it," as the devnotes refer to this arc. Halsin is a person who fundamentally can't stand to see suffering, especially in the young, and the worse he hurts from seeing Baldur's Gate, the more determined he is to help them. This isn't just an act he takes out of duty as an Archdruid, though that is part of it, but it's also the act of someone who loves people and wants to help them. And he is rewarded for it- "Daddy Halsin, [the orphaned children] call me." Halsin, with his endless, deep love and empathy, finds a place where his efforts to help the defenseless allow him to find more love and connections. He gets to take on a fatherly role to nine wagon-fulls (depending on what size of wagon we're talking about, that could be dozens of children, maybe even HUNDREDS!) of children, teaching them about the traditions that are important to him, while also filling the hole left by his parents' absence- by keeping them and their beliefs alive in his interactions with what are now effectively his children.

At his core, Halsin is a lonely person throughout canon, who craves more connection; at this point in his life, it's primarily romantic love and paternal love he wants to give. Act one shows him in a situation where he has neither, and while he's not UNhappy, he's not happy either, and is all too happy to abandon his duties because it's not where he's meant to be. Act two gives him Thaniel, who he is overjoyed to finally free from the Curse, but he isn't meant to linger thanks to the battle against the Absolute. And then act three gives him the player (even if not romanced, he still feels a deep connection with them and vice versa) and, in the end, children he can finally be a father to, even if it's in a slightly different way than he imagined. And that is where he finally finds happiness and purpose.

It's a really wonderful progression for him, I think.

[stellamalonesolaria]

BTS Jeon Jungkook x reader | oneshot (drabble) | the sentimental sanguinary |

pairing: husband!jungkook x wife! fem reader

genre: angst, established relationship au

warning: mild swearing

summary: the crucifying tale of love entwining hearts of many.

author’s note: this is a very vague drabble. lmk if you think this needs a part two?

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1. exordium

y/n’s pov:

i stare at the picture of my husband and i, taken on the day of our wedding. my gaze, lowering from our faces to our wedding rings on our fingers. i feel suffocated looking at this image which captured one of the best moments of my life filled with pure bliss, love, and laughter. i get teary-eyed after being hit with a bittersweet wave of nostalgia. those ecstatic days of my married life where jungkook and i genuinely displayed the affection we harbored for each other overwhelmed me-i wish they could just return somehow. i wish things could go back to the way they used to be.

"momma?" i finally snap back to reality after my daughter christiana-my first child calls out to me.

i take my eyes off my 'picture perfect' wedding picture and look at my daughter. "yes, dear?" i reply back to her. she flashes me with the brightest smile and hands a blanket over to me.

she then proceeds to say, "momma, please give this blanket to dada, he's sleeping on the couch.. again."

i sigh. "yes, i'll be sure to give this blanket to him sweetie and now go get some sleep too, you have school tomorrow", i strictly tell her this as i squeeze out a warm smile to her.

she smiles back. ah that's my cute daughter.

i take the blanket from her tiny hands and then head towards the lounge area in my house.

i spot my husband sleeping there as usual. i roll my eyes as i go over to him and cover him with the blanket.

in the process of draping him with the sheet of cloth-i take note of his facial features-he might not be the friendliest creature on this planet, but he sure was the most handsome one.

i bend down with an intention to plant a kiss on his cheek-after all, he does look adorable while sleeping.

but i hold myself back from doing so. i can't show an ounce of affection towards him even for a little while. sure, maybe i'm a huge egomaniac or just frustrated from all these built up differences between the both of us over time which eventually resulted towards the destruction of our once so sweet marriage, either ways, i am not in love anymore or so i think, but all i feel for him is momentary love and most of the time-all i feel for him is resentment and sheer hatred.

narrator's pov:

you head towards your room after this and sleep on your bed, alone.

the following morning, you wake up and freshen up to make breakfast for your children-as they have to attend their school, so a scrumptious meal is a must.

you visit your twin's room-the room of your children (christiana and ivan)-to wake them up for school.

y/n’s pov:

"wake up, kids."i scream for the millionth time, hoping they would at least open their eyes, but no, i get nothing, not even a single response.

i'm close to losing my temper, but then Jungkook walks in the kids' room.

"christiana. ivan. wake up. mom has been calling you for quite a while now."Jungkook scolds.

christiana and ivan wake up listening to their dad, i scoff and comment, "so, i see how it is. you guys only listen to your dad and not your mom." although, i said this, but i internally thanked Jungkook for being a savior and finally waking my kids up for school.

i smiled at Jungkook-not even hoping he'd smile back as it had always been so futile to even expect anything from him-but to my surprise, he actually did flash a smile to me.

what happened to him? like i'm astonished as to how a person can just drastically transform into a better being overnight

Jungkook contemplates the puzzled look that has been plastered all over my face. he laughs and says,"dumbass, i'm your husband. why would i not smile back at you."

my eyes widened, listening to his statement. did he just read my FUCKING mind? or maybe i'm not so good at making a poker face-see that's the problem with having a canvas of a face which just articulates every expression and figure artistically drawn by my brain.

"also y/n, i've been meaning to speak to you."

i shot a glance at jungkook indicating for him to continue further.

"uhm... so i was thinking how about we go on a cruise? i'm receiving a promotion from my office and i wanted to celebrate with you."

i feel unsure of this idea-not because it would be very awkward but also because i dont know for sure whether the firm i work for would let me take a few days off especially right now-since it's divorce season baby.

i look at his pleading eyes.

i sigh.

"jungkook. i'll talk to maya about this. if she grants me a few days off-i'd be able to accompany you."

jungkook looks at me intently. i furrow my eyebrows, indicating for him to speak. clearly something pissed him off.

he doesn't speak. he just continues staring right into my eyes.

we both don't break eye contact.

—————————————————————————

comment for a part two (if required because i’ve an entire story planned but i don’t know if i should pan it out on tumblr yet or not?)

[creepy-friday]

Ok ok

Hear me out

👀

Imagine if the Proxies were in any type of relationship with Y/N, and Y/N isn't a proxy or maid or anything.

And Y/N got pregnant 💀

Brownie points if the baby is a girl-.

Notes: the reader is in an established relationship with them,and kept the pregnancy a secret until the only option was for the baby to be born

Warnings: pregnancy mentions,yandere tendencies in Brian's part,mental illness in Toby's and misogyny in Tim's

Special thanks to @spookyravioli for the inspiration♡

"Oh.Oh." Toby's first reaction is shock and slowly the feeling of dread would start to overcome him

He never imagined himself as a lover,let alone the tought of becoming a parent.Toughts of his own father started to beat him up,and insecurity spread trough him like a disease

He needs A LOT of reassurance in order for him to not break down.During the pregnancy he would be very supportive partner and would try to keep you as happy as possible

He bought a shit ton of books,from parenthood guide books to kids ones that he would often read to calm down

When the daughter was born,multiple thoughts entered his brain."I'm a father now." sounds both bittersweet and scary to him

This was the time when he started to take medicine for his outbursts,not only for him,but for both yourself and the baby's sake

As much as he wanted to not traumatize his daughter,he couldn't help but make her be constantly on edge

She wasn't afraid of him,but rather wary,slowly understanding that her father wasn't always in the right place

Despite his early efforts,I can see as the daughter grows up she would start to resent him from all the things that he hides away from her to the way he seems off putting

Because Toby's workplace is a demanding one,I can see him completely giving up on meds and having angry withdrawals because of it

That's why it will be up to the daughter to either sugarcoat the way her father is or to step up and overgrow him

Surprisingly,Masky's first tought isn't to go buy milk.Instead,he takes his time to reason with you and to list all the complication the baby will come with

He tries to be a good lover to you,he really doesn't want the of risk losing you because of his shitty moods,that's why he genuinely tries to not stress you out during the pregnancy

Tim will take care of anything you need,even if he would mutter something under his breath,all he does is for you.In his mind,if he loses you he will lose himself as well,that's why he's so eager to please you

After getting into a verbal fight with half of the hospital personnel,he almost lost his mind when he heard that he was having a daughter

He grew up distant for a while,and was passive aggressive while taking care of the baby,as if her whole existence's worth is based off her gender

After he became warmer to you he became colder to the daughter as time flew by and she grew older

"It's because you're a girl" ; "This isn't a girl's job" ; "Are you really going to wear that?Unfit for a girl"

I can see the daughter growing up to break down her father's stereotypes,but at the same time battling with his inner demons

She might have addiction problems and become obsessive over subjects she can have control over

If the mother doesn't do anything about it,I can see the daughter having a history with battling the same type of mental illness her father had

Brian knew all along about your pregnancy,and secretly enjoyed the tought of something or someone to keep both of you forever together

After all,the baby is the living proof of your love,that's what he believes

He made sure you're kept safe and get the best health care from other women doctors/nurses,he doesn't trust male personnel

Brian was an implicated parent,altough he heavily wanted as little communication as possible from you and the outside world

From the time the daughter became a toddler,he started to grow those sick ideas into her little head about how ugly society is

As time flew by,he already convinced her that all men are beasts,and that the only safe resort she has are her parents

He not only made both yourself and your daughter paranoid,but made sure that the others would avoid interacting with both of you by saying things like "oh,my wife became mentally ill because of pregnancy complications..please do not stress her out"

If the daughter grows suspicious about her father's occupation,she would keep it a secret from her panicked mother and would try to figure it out herself,all while trying not to give Brian any clue about it

Brian genuinely thinks he made a safe space for his family,and without the reader's reasoning I can see both the reader and her daughter having a limited life inside the cabin and the forest

[veespee]

Firebrand HCs

Firebrand is like,,, one of my favorite characters, and he's not talked about enough. (and i don't support Ad*m R*sner btw)

-LOVES goth literature. He 100% reads Edgar Allan Poe every morning while drinking black coffee. (if they can eat or drink in the Collective realm)

-Also loves goth music. I just generally HC him as a goth. I feel like he'd love Bauhaus especially, and maybe London After Midnight, Christian Death, but also mostly classical music. He'd be more of a traditional goth.

-He has a complicated relationship with HABIT. He doesn't like him, he probably can't even handle him. HABIT is loud and pretentious, he needs to show off how great he is and how powerful he is, while Firebrand doesn't need to do all that. He's quiet, he speaks just a few words, and that's all you need to know how knowledgeable he is. And i feel like HABIT respects that, in a way, and of course Firebrand respects HABIT for the fact that he saved Firebrand from the Collective. So there's just,, mutual respect, i guess, but they definitely wouldn't get along just hanging out like friends.

-I feel like his face would look pretty horrifying with how burned he got, but like… in a tragically beautiful way? Like sure, his face is deformed and burned, but that was something he had to suffer through. And from that, he got knowledge. And with that knowledge, he strived to help his other versions, so they wouldn't end up like him. He shows them how deformed he looks, encouraging them to not make the same decisions and end up like him, which i view as,, tragically beautiful, i guess? It's bittersweet, that he uses his appearance and trauma to teach his other versions not to make bad decisions. (hence the quote: “I am now something that I shouldn't be. A rogue god. I belong, and yet I don't. An abomination of existence. Trapped in this awful form.”)

-Def has written poetry before. Or a book. I just feel like he loves literature in general, and after being kept in the Collective for so long, in isolation, that's his only way out. He tries to keep his emotions inside, and writing is the only way to get his emotions out without going insane basically.

-He has a fascination with humans and mankind. Not in a positive, but not in a negative way either. It's more… curiosity, and some respect, but also some resentment. He's curious about what humans could accomplish, as he watched a lot of things evolve. (i'm not sure for how long Firebrand has existed, but i'm assuming since the Collective was created, which was in World War 2 so let's just say 1940s.) He watched scientific progression, he watched society socially progress, but he also witnessed war, genocide, opression. He's fascinated with it, as time is linear, unchanging in the Collective realm, while for humans.. they move, they change, they evolve. He can not. His purpose is one, to do the Administrator's dirty work, “stuck in this awful form”, “a rogue god”.

thank you for reading!🖤