#the tenderness of knowing you have these lovely people in your life that would do anything to make you smile

[schlatt-love-bot]

yuck! - schlatt x reader

now listening: yuck - charli xcx 0:01❍─────── 2:19 ↻ ⊲  Ⅱ  ⊳  ↺

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Schlatt was never fond of “love,” the idea of falling in love or being in love with another person quite literally made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the commitment—it upheld a standard within his mind that he felt he would never be able to reach, like he wasn’t a good enough person to be ‘boyfriend’ material. Thinking about the pressure of a relationship, needing to be a support for another person other than himself, the planning of dates, the pressure to get married…it had put his stomach in knots regularly. He did, however, crave the physical aspects of being in love, the tender touches, light kisses…especially the sex aspect of it all. That’s how he got himself wrapped up in hookup culture, needing a sexual release without the expectation of flowers and dinner afterwards. 

When he was young and made this decision, he didn’t really care who he was hooking up with, his numbers weren’t that big on YouTube quite yet, and so he wasn’t really afraid of a subscriber meeting him off Tinder or Bumble and trying to expose him for his personal life online. As his numbers grew, though, his anxiety about being exposed as a one night stand man began to go through the roof. That’s where you enter the picture. You and Schlatt met each other during a particularly boring elective class you both needed to take to get your degrees in college, being partnered for a group project where you learned you both had the same outlook on the class and had similar hobbies. Having met Schlatt during his brief college days, you knew of his commitment issues and never judged him for his one night stand escapades. Schlatt appreciated the fact that you respected him and his lifestyle choices, most people (especially his mother) never understood why he couldn’t find it in himself to settle down. You, however, understood the inner fear he felt towards love and relationships, and you got why he relied so heavily on casual flings to meet his needs and desires.

When he started making it big as a streamer and on YouTube, it just so happened to line up with a time in your life when you became single, after a two-year long relationship you thought had good prospects of being together forever. Distraught, you came to Schlatt, who told you he knew that relationships were a bad idea, and that he tried to warn you about all that before you committed to that “dickwad”. 

“See, this is what’m talking about! Relationships are so fucking stupid…now you’re sittin’ ‘ere sobbing on my couch, for what?” He said, gesturing a hand towards you before bringing his glass of whisky up to his lips, rolling his eyes as he took a sip. You were laying on his couch, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, glaring at him as you knew he knew you came over for comfort, not judgement. 

“Jesus…shut up, dude! I get you’re not into all that stuff…but I thought we had something real. He seemed so genuine…” You croaked, throwing a pillow at Schlatt as he raised his hands to defend himself. 

“Yeah, yeah…he was a real genuine guy..especially when he was genuinely between that other chick’s legs…” he laughed, picking up the pillow to place it back beside you, as he leaned down to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You huffed, crossing your arms as you looked away from him. 

“Not. Funny.” 

“I know it’s not. It’s seriously fucked up.” He said, continuing to wipe away the tears that came, rubbing small circles through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “I told you, you should just do what I do. There’s no pressure..” 

He left it at that, letting you ever so slowly get over your ex with his care and support. The entire time, though, you thought about what he had mentioned—to partake in his lifestyle, how there was no pressure. Soon enough, he came to you with his own proposition. 

“Listen…you don’t have to say yes. I know we’re friends, and I don’t want this to twist that all up…but…I can’t keep seeing randos on these dating apps…the last one started talkin’ to me about L’Manberg after I came on her stomach…” he said, his hand snaking around to his neck as he looked down at the floor, hearing you chuckle at his experiences. “Are you..asking me to be your hookup partner?” 

“If that’s whatcha wanna call it, toots…” 

“No strings attached, right? Just…meeting each other’s physical needs?” You asked, contemplating the idea in your mind. You would admit, you had always wondered how Schlatt was in bed, with the amount of times he had gone out and slept with someone, coming back to you with new stories of positions and other levels of spice you had never considered taking into the bedroom ever before. Not to mention, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, either. There was always a small voice in the back of your head telling you that he was attractive, and that you could change his ways. Plus…you needed your own distraction and to have your needs met while you got over your ex, so what better way than doing that with your good friend, Schlatt?

“Exactly. We still remain good friends…but when we have needs…we meet them, together.” He said, laying out an exact plan that would include rules and consent. 

“Oh, and of course. Not falling in love. Sorry, sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna be interested.” He laughed, writing down the last rule on this makeshift contract he began writing before scribbling his name at the bottom. 

“Of course…of course. Are you seriously making me sign this thing? It means nothing, legally…” You laughed, picking up the pen he slowly pushed towards you.

“Yeah, I mean it’s not gonna legally mean anything, but it’ll show us if things get…tricky…that we started things with the same intentions, right?” He had no idea why he felt the need to draft up this contract of sorts—he was firm in his belief that he would never, genuinely fall in love with someone, but there was a fear about this in the back of his mind. He had himself convinced that it would be you falling for him and ruining this whole ordeal. 

“I guess you’re right…” You said, your voice quiet as you scribbled your name on the bottom of the paper, before meeting his gaze. 

“So…when did you wanna start all this?” 

“Hmm, no moment quite like now, right, toots?” He laughed, scooting closer to you as he placed a hand on your cheek, “If that’s alright with you, of course…” 

His voice trailed off as you let out a giggle, rolling your eyes. You leaned in, kissing him on the lips, leaving him shocked that you initiated without hesitation. 

That was about 2 years ago now, and since then you and Schlatt had come nearly inseparable. The contract still stood—neither of you were to have feelings for one another, but were to support one another platonically other than in the bedroom. The only recent amendment to the contract was when Schlatt decided that the two of you should move in together, so that your hookups could be done on a more frequent basis, as it’s what he “needed.” You were already on the hunt for a new place to live, your old apartment becoming too expensive to live on your own in, so you agreed. 

As time went on, you felt yourself wanting more. Wanting the simple, quiet moments with Schlatt something more than just a fuck buddy. Wishing that when you were in the kitchen cooking dinner that Schlatt would walk by, wrap his arms around your waist, and whisper something nice in your ear. Instead, you were met with the occasional slap on the ass, and a joke about how you’d make a nice housewife, but not for him. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you find a husband, toots.” He would always joke, showing you that he knew you needed something more, something concrete and committed, but also communicating that he knew he wasn’t capable of providing you with those experiences. 

You hit a point where you couldn’t take it anymore, though, taking matters in your own hands. You knew the root of the problem was internal fear Schlatt felt, that he wasn’t a good enough person to be able to be committed to someone, and that he needed to improve himself before being able to commit to anyone. He had gotten so used to his hookup lifestyle, though, he felt no pressure to “improve himself” like he had explained to you years ago, though, and so you knew you needed to start adding that pressure on him. 

“Flowers? Who bought you those?” He said, seeing an arrangement in a vase on the kitchen counter as you were making something at the stove. 

“Oh, no one bought me those. I bought those for you.” You said, nonchalantly, putting down the spoon you were using to look over at his reaction. One of his eyebrows began to raise, as he inspected the flowers once more. 

“Respectfully, I don’t need any flowers, sweetheart, but I appreciate the sentiment. What’s with them?” You shrugged your shoulders, leaning against the stove with crossed arms. 

“No particular reason…just saw ‘em at the store and thought of you. That’s all.” You say, seeing a slight pink tint come across his cheeks. You could tell the gears in his brain were turning, he was trying to think of a logical, platonic reason for why you would do this, but he wasn’t able to come up with one. You returned your focus to the stove, your pot nearly boiling over now from being neglected. 

“Well…thanks, sweetcheeks. Guess ‘m gonna have to repay you for these later, hmm?” He growled, slapping your bottom before going into the fridge to pull out a drink, disappearing back into his office. You sighed, knowing you were going to have to try harder.

“C’mon, don’t you think it would be fun? We live by the mountains, afterall…”

“Stargazing? The fuck do I look like…your boyfriend?” He scoffed, pushing around the pasta you made on his plate, as you sighed, putting your head in your hands. 

“No! God, you’re taking it out of context,” you sighed, shaking your head, “Friends do this type of shit, too, idiot. I just thought it would be nice to get away for a weekend, away from your 17,000 different channels and business ventures, let you clear your head for a day or two before coming back to the chaos.” 

He began to think silently, leaving you hanging. He was trying to figure out your motive, slowly over the last few months he had noticed your attempts to break down his tough, outer shell, trying to get under his skin and grow closer to him. First, he thought you were trying to be a better friend, but now the line between friend and lover was getting blurred, and the more he thought about it, the sicker he began to feel. He was confused, himself, never quite feeling the way he felt about you with any other person before, none of the women he would see quite regularly made him feel this way, either. When he was around you, he felt…domestic. An urge to protect you, keep you safe, and he had no real clue as to why. The feeling in his chest as of late was so foreign, he often wondered if something was seriously wrong with him—he mentioned in passing the other day that he thought he needed to see a doctor, something about having a heart arrhythmia or something. Was it you blurring this line, or was he unconsciously blurring it himself? The idea made him sweat, and so he once again swallowed all the thoughts and tried his best to press forward. 

“Mmm, well..when you put it that way…it does sound kind of nice.” He refused to look up and make eye contact with you as he confirmed plans. You smirked to yourself, feeling as though your intentions were finally setting on him, and that soon enough you could, maybe, call him yours for real. 

“Good, cause I already booked a stay at a nice cabin, ‘bout 15 minutes from here. Go pack your bags and let’s get going!” You say, clapping your hands together excitedly, your things already packed since you were going, regardless of his decision. He began to laugh, shaking his head as he stood up, heading to his room. 

“What the fuck is up with them…” he muttered under his breath, going through his dressers to find a few t-shirts to throw in his bag. 

“Really tryna ruin a good fuckin’ thing, aren’t they…” he couldn’t help himself from feeling a bit angry. He was slowly beginning to realize that you were wanting more, you were getting yourself attached to him not only physically, but emotionally as well, and that you were trying to coax him into believing he was becoming emotionally invested in you as well. It was confusing, to say the least, because on one hand he truly felt as though he was turning a new, uncomfortable leaf—he found himself caring about you, how your day was, how you were feeling, and wanting to connect with you on a level he hadn’t ever connected with someone before, but at the same time he was so stuck in his ways that he didn’t want to think about you as anything more than friends with benefits. His confusion has now shifted to anger, anger that you were trying to get more out of this than he was willing to give, and anger at himself that he was even considering changing his ways for someone other than himself. He finally got his bag all packed, trying to think of this little get away as a break from work, rather than stressing himself out over his feelings and your own. 

He rejoined you in the living room, seeing you checking your phone, keys in hand and your own bag placed on the ground at your feet. You hadn’t noticed him standing there quite yet, rather engrossed in something you were reading on your phone. It was at that moment Schlatt realized his heartbeat was getting quicker once again, feeling butterflies beginning to stir within his stomach. 

Ugh, he thought to himself, I feel like I’m going to be sick…what the fuck is happening to me?

Almost as if you could hear his inner dialogue, you looked up from your phone, smiling at him standing there looking dumbfounded with his bag in his hands. You slid your phone in your back pocket as you picked up your own bag. 

“Ready to go? Let’s enjoy this weekend, hmm?” 

“Let’s get this show on the road…” his voice droned on, trying his best to make it seem as though he wasn’t looking forward to spending a weekend alone with you, not having to worry about anything else. 

Night began to paint the sky full of stars, as Schlatt fed the woodfire heater inside the cabin to keep you both warm overnight. You sat, wrapped loosely in a blanket on the couch watching him, a mug of hot chocolate sitting nicely in your hands. Since arriving at the cabin, you both already had a few rounds of slow fucking on almost every surface you could find available inside. It was an attempt in Schlatt’s mind to solidify that the only connect you two shared was sexual, not romantic in any way, but after the last round when you glanced up at him with a twinkle in your eye, he began to think it was game over—something in his perspective was shifting. You could tell he was working through something internally, usually after a round he would be a gentleman and help clean you up, make sure you’re comfortable before going back to whatever it was he was doing before, but after your last round, he stared you in the eyes for what felt like forever, his eyes widened before he shook his head, grumbling something about feeling disgusted, leaving you alone on the bed you had finally made your way to in the end. You sighed, running your hands through your hair, unsure of whether or not this trip away was going to work or end up in the way you were anticipating in your mind. With the way he was acting, you’d think you did something seriously sinister to him, and he wanted to get away from you forever. Getting yourself cleaned up, you now found yourself on the couch watching him from afar. 

He finally was satisfied with how the fire was going, enjoying the sounds of the crackling wood in the somewhat uncomfortable silence he had created between the two of you. He turned around to see you comfortably watching him, wondering what his next move was going to be. 

“You mentioned stargazing, didn’t ya?” He said, sitting gently next to you, afraid if he came on too strong he might say something he regretted, or you would do something that would solidify the change he was terrified of. 

“Mhm, wasn’t sure if you remembered, honestly…” your voice trailed off, sounding a bit hurt from having your pride bruised back in the bedroom. Him leaving you like that filled you with doubt—maybe he didn’t want to be more than friends with benefits, afterall, and you’ve just been living in a big bubble of delusion. 

“Of course I remembered…c’mon now.” He said, standing up as he gestured a hand to you, offering to pull you up from the couch. You placed your mug to the side, reaching up to grab his hand and stand up yourself. Silently, you followed him as you both adorned your jackets back on, slipping on some boots as Schlatt reached over and grabbed the blanket you were once wrapped up in. You both walked out of the cabin in silence, finding a secluded spot a little bit away from the cabin, but in a clearing large enough that you could make out the stars and their constellations from underneath the trees. Schlatt laid the blanket down on the grass, sitting down before looking back up at you. 

“Are you gonna come down here and join me, or are you just gonna stand there, toots?” He chuckled, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. You let out a breathy laugh, sitting next to him before glancing up at the sky. Admiring the stars together, the silence quickly became comfortable, not tense as it was a few minutes ago. When Schlatt laid down on his back, he tugged at your jacket, signalling you to join him, to which you quickly obliged. Your head on his chest, you could ever so softly hear his heart beating intensely, making a smile creep up on your face. 

“What’s that one called…?”

“Hmm…maybe Ursa Major? Kinda looks like a bear…doesn’t it?” He hummed, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as his other hand continued to point out different constellations above you. You couldn’t help yourself from looking up at him, seeing how the stars reflected in his eyes caused you to fall deeper than you ever thought possible. 

“What’cha lookin’ at?” He said, confused why your gaze wasn’t directed at the stars any longer. 

“Have I ever told you just how…handsome you really are, Schlatt?” You said, seeing his eyes grow a bit wider than before. He felt a now familiar heat creep across his cheeks, as he said a silent prayer that you couldn’t tell just how rosy his cheeks have now become. 

Fuck. Not this lovey dovey shit…

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EDIT: Part 1.5 is out now! Smut, and smut only, so reader discretion is advised! Enjoy~

[thyras]

→ of yearning & longing

PAIRING → halbrand | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 4.9k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → just LOTS of yearning and longing (y'all are probably sick of that by now), angst

SUMMARY → as fate draws you both ever closer, you can't help but feel the aching of centuries apart and what they have done to you.

AUTHORS NOTE → there is a sneaky celebrimbor x reader in this just cause ya know you do not spend five centuries hanging out closely and not have some non-platonic thoughts at times. i may be going on a little hiatus with this for a little teeny bit due to school starting this week. i have lots of homework and will not have time to devote to this, i have a plan for the whole story but i just need the time to execute it and that may be a couple of weeks. outside life calls.

PARTS → one // two // three // four // five // seven

“Is that really where you came from?” The little voice chimed, trembling with wonder. Her luminous eyes, wide as the moonrise over the woods, looked up at you as though you carried the secrets of the stars in your gaze. Her delicate hands clutched the hem of your robe’s sleeve, and in that touch, you could feel her burgeoning curiosity—a flame that, with care, would burn for centuries.

Your fingers traced the edge of an ancient, weathered page, its texture rough yet familiar, like the bark of the trees you once wandered among. The book felt alive in your hands, a relic of a bygone era, steeped in the whispers of the past. You had carried it through fire and shadow, across the tumultuous escape from Beleriand, a treasure nestled beside your husband’s intricate designs and other tokens of a life left behind. This book, though—it was more than mere parchment and ink. It was a fragment of your soul.

The illuminated script told of your people’s beginnings: the Moriquendi’s deep bond with the earth, their whispers shared with the roots of ancient oaks and the flowing rivers. It recounted the tale of Thingol and Melian, whose love was like a song woven into the fabric of Arda itself. It painted a picture of the grand realms of Beleriand—Doriath’s shadowy, enchanted forests; Gondolin’s shining spires hidden amidst the mountains; Laureandor, golden and resplendent under the eternal sun. Every page sang with memory, each word resonating with the cadence of forgotten voices.

“I came from the earth itself,” you murmured, your voice soft but rich, like the hum of wind over a meadow. “Awoke when Eru sang me into being.”

The little girl’s lips parted, her breath catching as she turned the words over in her mind. Her brow furrowed, and her tiny fingers fluttered in the air as she counted, her thoughts as transparent as the clear forest streams. “But that would make you…” she paused, consulting her fingers again, “over five thousand years old.”

A smile spread across your lips, slow and indulgent, tinged with the mischief of centuries. “A lady does not reveal her age, little one,” you said, tilting your head with mock severity. “It is very impolite.”

Her eyes widened, and her small voice rushed to apologize, faltering with earnestness. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Before she could finish, you placed a hand gently atop her head, the warmth of your touch silencing her in an instant. The faint scent of the forests clung to her hair, and it brought memories of younger days. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her brow, a benediction as ancient as you were.

“There is no need to apologize,” you said, your tone tender, carrying the weight of countless ages. “I have lived many lives, seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, and passed through the shadowed woods of Middle-earth. Yet, it is my purpose to pass on what I know, as I was created to be a keeper of memory and a weaver of stories.”

Her wonder deepened, her small face lit by an unearthly glow as if your words had planted stars in her heart. The weight of the book in your hands seemed lighter now, for in her awe, you saw the continuation of the tale, the promise of futures yet to be written.

“Telling wild stories to young ears again?”

The familiar voice carried a hint of amusement, smooth as silver ringing against stone. You turned your head, and there he was—Lord Celebrimbor. His soft brown hair caught the light as he approached, and a genial smile touched his lips. His presence was steady and reassuring, and your own lips curved into a fond smile at the sight of your old friend.

“They are not wild stories,” you retorted, a playful edge sharpening your tone. “They are histories, Celebrimbor.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and rich, and continued his leisurely approach until he stood beside you. His eyes flicked down to the little girl perched beside you on the stone bench. She had been listening with the rapt attention only the young possessed, her small fingers clasped tightly in her lap.

“May I borrow her for a while?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a trace of mirth.

The little girl hesitated only briefly before nodding. She turned to you, her eyes luminous with hope and longing. “Can we continue tomorrow?”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at her eagerness. “Same time,” you promised, inclining your head.

That was all she needed. With a delighted grin, she slid off the bench and ran, her fair hair catching in the soft breeze, flowing like a stream of gold as she disappeared down the path toward the town. You watched her go, warmth flooding your heart, an ache sweet and bittersweet settling in your chest.

All you had ever wanted was a family of your own—a child to hold, to nurture, to guide with the wisdom and love you carried in your light. Yet, unlike Melian and Thingol, such a blessing had never come to pass for you and Mairon. It was understandable. The shadow that lingered on the edges of his soul was not a burden that would be easily tempered. Still, in all the centuries and ages that had passed, the absence of that dream was a hollow place in your heart, a place no other joy could truly fill.

Even if the possibility of his darker nature manifesting more strongly in a child had weighed on your mind, you knew it wouldn’t have swayed your desire. You would have loved them fiercely, shielding them with your light and guiding them toward a brighter path. To nurture, to cherish, to offer a soul unyielding warmth—that was the essence of who you were.

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your reverie, his tone soft with understanding. “You’re still thinking of it, aren’t you?”

You glanced up at him, surprised by his perceptiveness, but his gaze held no judgment. Only the quiet companionship of someone who had shared lifetimes and understood the burdens carried through them.

“It is a thought that never truly leaves me,” you admitted, your fingers brushing absently over the ancient book still resting on your lap.

He nodded, his expression solemn but kind. “Perhaps, in some way, you already have what you seek. In the little moments, the stories shared, the light you give to others.”

Your lips twitched upward in a bittersweet smile. “Perhaps,” you murmured, though in your heart, you knew the longing would always remain.

For now, you let it rest, soothed by the lingering warmth of the little girl’s trust. It was enough, if only for today.

“Elrond has returned with news from the Dwarves,” Celebrimbor announced, with a gentle smile.

You rose smoothly from the bench, the ancient book pressed to your chest as though safeguarding its secrets. The weight of it was comforting, a tether to times long past. Without hesitation, you moved to step alongside him, your robes swaying with each deliberate stride.

Together, you walked, the rhythm of your footsteps falling into an easy harmony, as if the centuries of shared purpose had been etched into the very earth beneath you. You hoped Elrond had brought good news, because the project was dangerously behind schedule. And there was only so much time left.

With each sway of the ship, Halbrand let the movements cradle him, like a lullaby he could not quite hear. He tried to lose himself in it, to let the rhythm of the waves wash away the heaviness in his chest. Yet his mind wandered relentlessly, tugging him back to places he could not escape. Memories, sharp and vivid as the stars reflected on dark waters, flared to life—pulling, aching, longing.

The burn of this mortal form was sharper, more immediate than the last. Where once he had armored himself against emotion, now they coursed through him unchecked, raw and consuming. He ached for you. For the touch of your hands, the solace of your voice, the brilliance of your mind. His soul felt unmoored without you, a drifting fragment searching for its other half.

When he had awakened in this new life, the frost-laden air of winter biting his skin, his first thought had been of you. He had reached out across the unseen threads of the world, yearning to feel even the faintest echo of your presence. He had scoured the vastness of Arda with his mind and heart, desperate for a whisper, a glimmer, a trace of you among the living. But there had been nothing. The silence was deafening.

The thought of your absence had carved an emptiness into him. You, who were among the first to walk this land, who carried the songs of creation in your very being. It was possible—heartbreaking, unbearable, but possible—that you had faded into the earth itself, surrendered to your grief for him. The thought sent shards of pain through him, sharper than any blade.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and his strength returned, faint signs began to emerge, like footprints in the snow. In dreams, he found you. Glimpses of your face, your eyes—those luminous, eternal eyes—would appear to him, soft and shining, filled with the golden light of Laureandor’s unending dawns.

In these dreams, you were radiant as you had been in the days of your joy. He would see you wandering among the gardens of that sacred city, the eternal sunrise painting your skin in hues of warmth. He would reach for you, yearning to touch the softness of your shoulders, to trace his fingers along your arms, to hold you as he had in those golden days. He would try, so desperately, to drink in the memory of your scent—jasmine, lilac, and the faint sweetness of raspberries—an essence burned into his soul as deeply as your name.

But it never came to pass. Before you could even acknowledge that he was searching for you—and you almost had, on more than one occasion—the shadows of Morgoth’s curse would rise, relentless and cruel. They dragged you away from him, shrouding your presence in darkness and sending him back into his own mind. Each time, the pain surged through him like a tidal wave, dropping him to his knees in the prison of his thoughts. He would cry out, his voice raw, begging to touch you, to hold you, to feel even the faintest trace of your light once more.

It was not until he had regained moderate strength, his resolve steeled against the ever-looming shadow, that he managed to push past it and reach you again. This time, the veil parted, and he saw you.

The scene unfolded like a long-lost dream: you, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, your beauty ethereal and untouched by the years. You sat at your dressing table, a brush gliding through your hair with deliberate, graceful strokes, and your lips parted slightly as you hummed a melody. It was a song he knew well—one you had sung in the golden days of Laureandor, when life felt eternal and untainted. He had heard it many times, lying in bed and watching you with quiet reverence, soaking in the warmth of your presence, your radiance.

“Mori?” His voice trembled as it left him, his shadows quaking around the edges of your sanctuary, a fragile boundary between worlds. Yet you did not turn. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment met his call.

Moments passed, heavy and laden with hope and despair, until your movements stilled. The brush in your hand hovered above the table, and your gaze fell to the small jewelry box resting there. Your fingers reached out, trembling ever so slightly as they hovered over the box’s delicate clasp, hesitating as though the act of opening it would summon something too painful to bear.

He stepped closer, his presence behind you a silent echo of who he had been. As you unclasped the box, the faint creak of its hinges seemed to reverberate through the room, a sound both tender and haunting. Inside, nestled in the velvet lining, lay a chain and a ring—the very ones he had forged for you.

The sight of them hit him like a blow, a torrent of emotions flooding through him. The memories surged—of molten metal and careful hands, of pouring himself into the craft, shaping his love and devotion into something tangible. He had made the chain and blue jewel to rest lightly against your skin, the ring to shine as brightly as the Two Great Lamps that they were forged under, unknowing of why he yearned to craft a marvel. All when he was your Mairon. Your sweet Mairon.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered just behind your shoulder, yearning to touch you, to reclaim even a fragment of what they had once shared. But the shadows still lingered, cruelly mocking him, as if to remind him that he could watch, he could ache, but he could not hold you—not yet.

You slammed the jewelry box closed and turned away, the sharp snap echoing through the room. The pain of your mark flared again, forcing you to retreat from the part of him that had once been poured so fully into that ring and chain. The sight of your reaction caused his anger to flare, a shadowy frustration that burned hotter as his eyes drifted to your wrist. The mark there pulsed with darkness, black tendrils crawling like living veins up your skin, a visible reminder of Morgoth’s curse.

But then, in a moment that stole his breath, your hand rose instinctively to the golden chain around your neck. Your fingers brushed over the crimson jewel nestled against your skin, caressing it softly. As if in answer, the darkness on your wrist began to fade, the tendrils retreating as though repelled by the warmth emanating from the chain.

His chain.

It seemed to bring you no pain, even in the face of the shadows. Unlike the jewelry in the box, this piece of his work had not been tainted. He realized with awe that the elven hands that had enhanced it in its making had infused it with a power greater than he had imagined. It radiated warmth, a steady comfort amidst the storm of darkness and shadow that plagued you both.

He remembered the night it was placed around his own neck, a gift for a moment of unity and love. He had been hesitant, even fearful, as the chain hovered above him. He had known its nature—that it would burn him if his soul was not pure of light. The stone would have seared his skin and marked his darkened fingers if the darkness in him had prevailed.

But that had not happened.

In your presence, beneath your unwavering light, he had bathed in something he had thought lost to him. The darkness had been pushed back, retreating into the recesses of his being. For that fleeting time, he had become whole again. He had become your Mairon.

You had turned his heart pure, if only for a moment. And in that moment, his whole being had prospered, the shadows receding as the brilliance of your love and light filled the void within him. Even now, the memory of that time was a beacon in his mind, a reminder of who he had been and who he might yet become.

He had pulled away from your mind, granting you a brief moment of solace. But his absence was only temporary. He returned, filling your mind with his deepest, most desperate desires. Shadows crept in again, curling around you as he reached out, hoping—aching—that you might welcome him this time. Welcome him with your warmth. With your light.

“Nightmares again?”

The voice pulled him abruptly from his reverie. Halbrand’s gaze shifted to Diarmid, whose head had lifted from his makeshift pillow, the dim glow of the ship’s lantern casting shadows across his weathered face. The old man’s eyes were sharp, even in the low light, watching him with a curious, almost knowing expression.

Halbrand hesitated. His instinct was to keep his thoughts buried, locked away where no one could reach them. Yet, there was something about Diarmid’s persistent, uninvited concern that made resistance seem futile. The old man had a knack for prying, for picking at the seams of Halbrand’s carefully guarded silence. At times, it irritated him to no end.

But tonight? Tonight, he found himself willing to entertain it.

“Something like that,” Halbrand said at last, his voice low and rough, as though the shadows in his mind lingered still. He leaned back against the ship’s support the cool air brushing against his skin, though it did little to quell the heat of the turmoil within.

Diarmid’s brow furrowed slightly, his curiosity sharpening. “Dreams, then? Or memories?”

Halbrand’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Does it matter?”

The old man shrugged, sitting up more, but his gaze remained unwavering. “Only if you think it does.”

Halbrand said nothing, his eyes drifting around the cargo hold. The waves lapped against the hull, their rhythm both soothing and relentless, much like the memories that refused to leave him. He could still feel the ghost of you in his mind, the ache of what he’d shown you, the fragile hope that you might yet answer his call.

He exhaled slowly before speaking. “I’ve done evil,” Halbrand admitted, his voice low and rough, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows of the night instead of the old man beside him.

“All of us have done things we care not to admit,” Diarmid replied, his tone laced with a quiet understanding.

Halbrand chuckled bitterly to himself. If he only knew. His mind drifted back to you, to the weight of his greatest sin: the evil he had cast like a shadow over your life. Even now, he could feel the heaviness of your hairpiece tucked into the waistband of his pants, the cold metal pressing against his skin. It was a token he could not part with, tarnished by time and freezing temperatures, yet priceless beyond measure.

He had gone back for it, braving danger and decay to retrieve a piece of you. To him, it was a relic—a tangible fragment of the happiest memory he possessed. He clutched it like a lifeline, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could bask in the light of that moment once more. But that light was gone, and the darkness of his choices had set a path that could not be undone.

His plan, even now delayed, was in motion. And with every passing day, he drew closer to you.

“That trinket you carry,” Diarmid’s voice cut into his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. “A family heirloom? Or perhaps a token of a lost love?”

Halbrand’s eyes darkened as they snapped to the old man, his glare sharp and unyielding. But then, to his own surprise, he spoke the truth.

“It was my wife’s,” he murmured softly, his voice a shadow of itself.

“Lost, then?” Diarmid asked, his expression solemn but kind.

Halbrand shrugged, the gesture dismissive, though the pain in his chest betrayed his indifference. “I am unsure.”

Diarmid nodded slowly. “Did she know of this evil that you had done?”

Halbrand’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. The truth of it was inescapable. You had known. You had always known. And despite that knowledge, you had remained devoted to him, loving him with a fierceness that sometimes bordered on blind faith. You had stood by him, willing to follow wherever he led, even when it cost you dearly.

To be worshipped by the one he loved—by you—had been a divine feeling. One that lingered even now, haunting him.

“Then do not dwell in what was,” Diarmid said after a moment, his voice calm and steady. “For all is forgiven to her.”

But Halbrand knew better. Forgiveness was a lie. He had burned your world down, not once but countless times over. He had tried to repent, to make amends for the ruin he had caused, but when the cost became clear—eternal separation, eternal damnation for the both of you—he had fled. He had run from the truth of what his true repentance required. Not able to accept the words of beings that had once hunted him down like an animal.

“Now you must find forgiveness in yourself,” Diarmid continued, breaking through the silence. “You are here, with the hope of seeing her once more, wherever she might be. All because you have chosen good on this day.”

“And what of tomorrow?” Halbrand asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his doubts.

“You choose it again,” Diarmid said simply. “And then the next day, and the day after that, until it is part of your nature.” A soft smile crossed the old man’s lips, his words as gentle as the first light of dawn.

Halbrand said nothing, his mind swimming with memories of what he had once been.

Mairon had been good. He had loved, deeply and without restraint. He had danced in the light, sung with his whole fëa, and devoted himself to the one who had been his guiding star. Day after day, he had chosen to be admirable, to be worthy of the love you gave so freely.

Sauron, though… Sauron was irredeemable in the eyes of all but one.

Yours.

You had clung to the hope that the light could penetrate the shadow once more. You had believed in him when no one else did, holding on to the belief that the spark of goodness within him still existed. And he had told you once, long ago, that his light was embedded in you, waiting to return to him when the darkness had faded.

But the darkness had never faded.

And now more than ever it crept even closer, begging to swallow him further.

Over the weeks, you had lingered in the hazy solace of your dreams, refusing to wake from the gentle caresses and whispered promises of your husband. His touch, his voice, his presence—it all felt so real in the quiet sanctuary of your slumber. You clung to him desperately, even as he faded, unwilling to release him to the waking world. For when you did, you knew you would wake to the cold emptiness of your bed, the hollow ache in your heart once more reminding you of the loneliness that consumed your days. The sunlight seemed dimmer now, as if mourning alongside you, its warmth unable to pierce the sorrow that wrapped itself around you. His words of patience echoed in your mind, but the longing you carried was shifting—slowly, insidiously—into grief once more. And the shadows whispered to you, their call growing ever louder.

“Everything well?”

Celebrimbor’s voice broke through your reverie, and you startled slightly before turning to him. He stood across the small forge, his keen eyes watching you with gentle concern. You offered him a cheerful smile, though it barely masked the weariness tugging at your features.

“Yes, of course, my lord,” you replied, trying to sound lighthearted.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I can tell when you’re lying, Thilwen.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly turned back to the parchment before you. The last bit of correspondence for the day was nearly finished, and you placed your quill back in the inkpot with careful precision. Blowing on the ink to dry, you focused intently, determined to ignore Celebrimbor’s prying gaze. Though he rarely ventured into matters of your personal life, he worried for you on occasion. He had seen the signs: your faraway stares, the way you flinched at the faintest creak of a door, the late-night strolls through the courtyard where you seemed to murmur to no one.

“I am fine—” you started, but Celebrimbor crossed the room in a few strides and placed his hand firmly on the parchment, cutting you off.

“Go,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute. “You look exhausted. I will finish this.”

“But—” you began to protest, but he shook his head.

“No buts. You’ve been working harder than ever, and I need your mind sharp once the forge is complete. We’ll have plenty of work ahead of us.” His expression softened as he added, “Rest, Thilwen. Truly rest.”

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of his concern and the firmness in his tone left no room for argument. But instead of rising you only sat back in your chair as you moved to rub your eyes, you wanted to rest more than anything but it would only make your grief and sorrow flourish.

“Thilwen?” Celebrimbor prompted with a raised brow.

“I can’t sleep,” you murmured, a shred of truth in the words. Celebrimbor moved to sit across from you. “I keep having dreams.” You paused, hesitating wether or not to even tell Celebrimbor, but he was one of your oldest friends and was always full of wisdom, even more than you. A child of Ilúvatar.

“Nightmares about your husband again?” Celebrimbor’s voice was careful, yet tinged with the barest hint of curiosity. It wasn’t entirely off the mark, though to call it a nightmare felt wrong. If one could call being driven to the edge by the ghostly caress of your husband’s touch a nightmare, then perhaps he was right. But that was none of Celebrimbor’s business.

“Some nights I see the white towers burning,” you began, your voice steady though your chest felt tight. “Others I see fellow elves—”

You didn’t have to finish. Celebrimbor’s hand reached across the small space between you and settled gently on your arm. His touch was soothing, an anchor in the storm of your words.

You weren’t lying. There were nights when your husband’s presence didn’t soften your dreams, when his whispers didn’t guide you into a fragile comfort. Instead, there were nights when the weight of old memories and distant faces overwhelmed you.

You saw them clearly—people you had loved, places you had walked—now all reduced to ruin. The brilliance of their existence snuffed out beneath the crushing weight of your husband’s oppressive hand. The burning white towers haunted you, their light extinguished by shadow, and the faces of those you cherished twisted with pain and betrayal.

Celebrimbor’s touch tightened slightly, grounding you. “You are not alone in this grief,” he said softly, his voice as steady as his presence. But in your heart, you knew your grief was far more complex than he could ever understand.

Because no one but you could love the hand that had wrought such destruction—and still long for it in the dark of night.

“It is alright; all is in the past. We have endured the darkest of days with our kin, and now we look to craft a brighter future,” Celebrimbor said, his voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. His hand gave your arm a gentle squeeze, a small gesture of comfort before his tone turned teasing. “But please, do go get some rest—you look awful, my dear.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound lightening the heaviness in your chest as you stood and pushed your chair neatly under the table. Stepping closer to him, you placed your hand on his cheek in a warm, familiar gesture. Celebrimbor’s smile softened at your touch, a warmth radiating from him that you had come to know so well over the centuries.

For five centuries, you had known his affection. Though it was unspoken and never crossed into anything beyond platonic, it was evident in the way he treated you. Others had noticed, whispering of how his gaze lingered on you longer than it did on anyone else, how his words carried a gentler tone when they were meant for you, and how his kindness toward you surpassed what he offered even his closest smiths.

But no matter what others said, Celebrimbor knew your heart belonged to another. He carried on with his immortal longing for greatness, his own ambitions burning brightly. Perhaps, somewhere in the depths of his heart, he held a quiet yearning for you as well. Yet, he had always respected the boundaries of your devotion, never once letting his affection compromise the steadfastness of your bond.

For your fëa sung for only one being.

The melody you shared with your husband was eternal, unshakable. It was a song that no other could replicate, a harmony woven in the light that existed between only the two of you. Even in his absence, even in grief so profound it threatened to consume you, you knew you would never betray that song. To do so would be to betray yourself.

“I will try to do so,” you said, letting your hand fall back to your side. You turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at him. “Good night, my lord.”

“Good night, my lady,” Celebrimbor replied with a small bow, his voice soft and reverent as you stepped out into the quiet night, carrying with you the weight of an unyielding love and the memories of what had been.

[sombredancer]

The best cdrama of 2024

is The Spirealm. I love it, love it, LOVE IT! Beware of being heavily spoiled ahead! What I was fond of: 🔑It's a nice story about finding love a true friend and a reason to live even if you are very lonely and abandoned by everyone, and it's full of tenderness and jokes. (Sometimes these jokes were so BL that I thought this drama should have been shot in Taiwan).

LQS: *whispers* I'm a dedicated materialist, I'm a dedicated materialist... RLZ: Yeah, yeah, I got it... RLZ: 👀... RLZ: If you are a materialist, why don't you say it to her? LQS: ... LQS: I'm not a that dedicated materialist! RLZ: ... RLZ: RUN! The main heroes are going the whole way from this:

RLZ: If you are not capable of passing even your first trial, you are worthless. to this:

Calmly accompanying each other on their way to the doom. 🔑 I love its lore and the detective part. As far as I watch cdramas, I try to avoid Chinese detectives because they are very fairytail-ish and don't allow you to participate mentally in the investigation. But it's not that case! (Who knew we would find real detective cases in a horror drama!). You can participate in investigation and even find out the truth before the main heroes will, and it's... pleasant. Btw, the mystical detective cases are so different in their levels of horror and mystics that you def will find something to please you even if you are a horror movies hater like me.

🔑 The horror stories were re-made for the adaptation in a very interesting way. Every monster is related to the inner pain of the main hero: they are betrayed, traumatized, abandoned by people they loved, just like him. So he feels pity and sorry for them and redeems them instead of killing. And, moreover, it makes impact throughout the whole story, on the main hero's 11th door as well on his relationship with his lover.

🔑Speaking of traumatized monsters. The first time I ugly cried over this drama was a story of the 4th monster. The monster! Made me cry!

But of course it wasn't the last time I cried my eyes out. The secondary characters of this drama are lovable, too. And the lore mechanics makes the awaiting of death so unbearable painful... You physically can feel the huge weight of characters' despair when they know that they or their dearest will die in a few minutes and there is ABSOLUTELY nothing they can do about it. This level of pain is something else, indeed.

But the most painful scene, where I cried the hardest, was not a scene of someone's death, but a scene of interaction between the main hero and his mother. She told him not to show up again, because she has a new family now, and was about to throw his school dreams and memories into the dump. What kind of mother she is!!😡

🔑And the most important thing about this drama: all detective cases allow you to restore the main story, piece by piece. And this story is about bone-piercing loneliness. The main hero was bullied in school, abandoned by his family and betrayed (kind of) by his best friend. His life was meaningless before he met his partner, the only person who returned to him the reason to live. But he happened to be a monster made specifically for the main hero to accompany him to the 12th door, a virus that needed to get to the 12th level with the help of the main hero to destroy the game. But the main hero's kindness to other un-humans, his ability to understand their pain despite of who they are, melted even monster's heart and made him genuinely love the main hero. It's truly sad that the main hero refused the real world and spent all his years left to make the world of his dreams and to get his lover back, but it's a story about loneliness, so I can't blame him. In his place, I would do the same.

The first meet

and the last. And the last but not least: I adore the technical part of this drama! I love RLZ's costumes! They are classical yet not really standard, make him conspicuous and give a feeling to a viewer that he is someone special. That he is somehow ethereal.

But he is not the only one whose clothes are saying. The White Deer people have their own style as well, so you can understand almost immediately that the characters in strange and pretentious clothes are related. And the main villain's costumes tell a lot about his personality.

And the set designs! They were marvelous! They gave me a feeling of vastness, as if the characters really were in other, spacious worlds.

And the soundtrack! I love it! It's such a shame that iQIYI didn't publish BGM and OST officially. But I found some of the tracks on YouTube. My favorites are the soundtrack to the 4th case: 森川-佐子 here and the variations of the door theme: 门 (变奏) here and 门 (门中门) here. Love it and highly recommend! 💙

[courtfallen]

𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔤𝔬 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯 — on that wintry training pitch? the crystalline snow had caught on the ends of her lashes, and he had found her just as beautiful then, just as headstrong and statuesque. a storm on the horizon he longed to open his arms & wingspan to receive & endure. she had brought a fierceness, a fury, a determination that matched his own. while her air had disarmed him in that first meeting, vyros had come to know her by the sharp and defensive strike of her twin blades against his greatsword, the icy glint in her eyes that so starkly contrasted the fire in her spirit, the velvet dark of her skin.

despite vyros being her mentor, she had been his teacher in many ways. from her, he had learned his place as a warrior and mentor, how to compartmentalize his emotions, to put duty before selfish wants and desires. his longing for her had always been there, somewhere beneath the verglas, but if he had not set it aside and challenged her, would he have succeeded in effectively training her? 

his eyes darken at her words, not because he doesn’t hear the echo of kindness in them, but because he knows in his heart she was destined to be great, and the part he played in her life was small, in the grand scheme; to think she needed him to blossom into the high ruler she was today was a discredit to her character and ability. her rise as the winter court’s ruler was inevitable, not because of the people that flocked to her like waves to the shore, but because of her gravitas, her power, her presence.

so he kept his gloves on, transforming all of that yearn for her into harsh critique and even more punishing practice. tender emotion metamorphized to leveling blows. forbidden touches to demanding barks. unrequited ache to perfect form. perhaps he had done something for her in denying himself so much, and that was the only reason he was here now — at the edge of a precipice he couldn't brave, the bank of a river he wouldn't allow himself to cross. he would stand at the edge of the fire and feel its sting gladly if it meant she was protected, that he lived his life in the service of that endeavor. that was all that was permitted to a warrior, after all. and a gift that he should love, however quietly, who and what he would give his life for.

❝ no matter. you would be who are today whatever the obstacles you faced, whatever shadows flanked you. you can have all of the support in the world, but it comes down to you, desmera. ❞ there it is, that mentor's steel. ❝ and you will not forsake your court, your duty, your birthright. you have my respect and my fealty for that ... among other reasons. ❞ and she would always, even if she turned her back on it all. ❝ i know the mantle is heavy, the shifting a burden on you. i will do whatever's in my power to protect you from that weight. ❞ his eyes are on her now, careful not to drop to her full lips as she speaks. ❝ it's my fear whoever uncovers the truth of it will not share it willingly, will hoard that knowledge for their own gain and not share it for faekind as a whole. it would be too easy a thing for one of prythian's courts to leverage that knowledge for more power. ❞ ochre eyes drift skyward and he lets out a sigh. ❝ mother help us. ❞

there's a twitch at the corner of his lips at her words, a smile that won't bloom, but lives somewhere beneath all those glacial layers, only for her. ❝ i left for selfish reasons, ❞ he admits. ❝ but you know that. and i know myself now, know my directive, my purpose. i belong at your side. ❞

in  her  youth,  desmera  had  been  all  too  certain  that  the  general  hated  her.  that  he  thought  her  spoiled  and  ill  fit  for  a  training  ground.  she'd  worked  twice  as  hard  to  prove  him  wrong,  and  in  recent  years  had  come  to  realize  that  may  have  been  the  goal  all  along.  whether  he'd  done  it  intentionally  or  not  was  a  mystery,  but  the  harsh  training  and  impossible  standards  had  built  the  strength  in  her  that  she  needed  to  survive  taking  the  throne  of  winter.  it  made  her  able  to  withstand  the  fiercest  snow  storms  and  weather  anything  that  came  their  way.  it  allowed  her  not  to  get  lost  in  the  gossip  of  her  court,  of  what  prythian  thought  of  her.  perhaps  it  worked  too  well,  for  the  high  lady  was  every  embodiment  of  ice  now  more  than  not.

desmera's  heart  twists  when  he  compliments  her,  words  she'd  always  wished  to  hear  when  she  were  just  a  trainee  with  a  sword.  now  she  was  his  superior,  and  for  some  reason  the  sweetness  of  his  offering  to  her  has  to  get  tampered  down.  she  can't  let  herself  pick  apart  each  thing  he  says  and  think  it  more  than  what  he  means.  "  i've  been  what  i  was  built  to  be  by  the  people  around  me.  "  she  doesn't  explicitly  say  he  was  one  of  those  people,  he  can  figure  that  out  for  himself.  desmera  still  harbored  this  childlike  annoyance  to  not  give  him  everything.  she'd  done  it  in  her  youth,  part  of  how  she  ignored  the  girlish  crush  on  the  illyrian  warrior  who  hated  her.  but  did  he  ?  he'd  come  back,  and  that  action  alone  had  sent  a  spiral  of  thoughts  into  her  mind  that  she  kept  steeled  away  more  often  than  not.  everything  about  desmera  was  carefully  crafted,  the  walls  of  her  mind  and  her  emotions  fortified  to  withstand  a  blizzard.  

her  eyes  watch  as  he  moves  to  store  his  sword,  why  she's  always  found  the  thing  intimidating  is  beyond  her.  des  was  no  weakling,  but  she  was  rarely  small  when  compared  to  the  other.  she'd  also  never  preferred  great swords,    more  of  a  twin  sword  girl  which  often  got  mistaken  as  a  need  for  more  weapons.  she's  not  trained  in  some  time  with  anything  really,  slowly  being  too  busy  by  court  matters  to  do  what  she  enjoyed.  lailah  tried  as  hard  as  she  could  to  get  the  high  lady  out  to  the  training  grounds,  but  duty  would  always  dictate  her  life.  she  had  little  choice  in  anything  now,  despite  holding  the  highest  seat  in  her  court.  she  wondered  if  the  general  would  lecture  her  on  letting  herself  slip.

"  oh,  i  pray  to  the  mother  i  never  have  to  shift  despite  what  circumstances  we  face.  "  she  hated  it,  not  that  she'd  admitted  that  to  anyone.  in  truth,  she'd  not  really  meant  to  hint  at  as  much  now.  vyros  had  a  way  of  noticing  the  things  she  didn't  say,  finding  the  weaknesses  she  wanted  to  ignore.  he'd  done  it  when  he  trained  her,  would  he  do  it  now  ?  her  beast  form  was  powerful,  but  terrifying  and  exhausting.  she  didn't  wish  to  shift  into  it  again  in  her  lifetime.  when  vyros  moves,  des  picks  her  head  up  from  his  sword  and  watches  him,  dissects  him.  she  had  just  caught  him  in  a  rather  deep  moment,  after  all.  her  worry  was  still  simmering  despite  battling  with  the  need  to  let  it  go  ignored.  "  that  is  not  a  solo  task,  general.  it  is  something  we  are  all  trying  to  figure  out.  "  he  had  a  way  of  taking  on  everything  himself,  and  as  a  member  of  her  inner  circle  she  hoped  he  would  learn  he  could  lean  on  the  others,  lean  on  her.

head  cocked,  she  lets  each  word  he  replies  settle  in  her  soul.  she  always  knew  she  could  trust  him,  even  when  he  was  the  bane  of  her  existence  and  every  star  of  her  annoyances.  being  safe  with  vyros  had  never  been  a  question,  and  so  few  had  the  ability  to  allow  her  that.  "  you  are  free  to  leave  whenever  you  desire,  vyros.  i  called  you  back  because  i  could  think  of  no  other  to  serve  in  your  position,  but  i  am  not  ignorant  to  the  knowledge  that  you  have  your  own  life  and  desires.  "  she  doesn't  want  him  to  go,    but  would  that  be  easier  than  whatever  they  were  doing  ?  "  the  list  of  what  you  could  do  to  be  seen  as  ineffective  in  my  eyes  is  very  small,  general.  it  will  not  be  me  who  releases  you  of  your  service  to  the  winter  court.  "  she  adds.

[youandthemountains]

it probably is insane how much I wish I could express the thing about spones. the vibes about spones. Like there's the joking fun fandom vibes and I love them, I love to play with them, of course of course. but the THING. the CORE to me. i wish i could capture it and share it.

[glitterghost]

Physically, I'm here.

Mentally, I'm lying in the dark with all the friends I think about but have lost touch with, catching up and laughing, and just not missing them like I do. Lifetimes haven't passed. And I'm still with them in the heart of some of the most important times of my life.

[moons-among-distant-stars]

HI!!!!! SORRY IT'S TAKEN ME SO LONG TO RESPOND!!!! BUT I STARTED READING CHAPTER 1 OF OTC TODAY SO I THOUGHT I OUTA RESPOND!!! SPOILER CUT

ooooo yayayayayay im so excited to meet them!!!

aaa im so blinding normal about sif being the sheep!!! cause ya!! ofc he wants to follow!!! ofc he doesn't want to lead!!! the universe Leads!!! we can only Follow!!!!

:((( they can fit so much shame... they need a hug

staaaars starsabovee you best not!! you better not!!!

so fair!!! love projecting stuff on to my favourite characters it's the best (shoutout my own ocs that are like a part of my soul)!! also as a sidenote fuck the capitalist and ableism-upholding notion that like we are self dependant day-to-day? like no we're not?? at all??? and we shouldnt be!! we shouldn't be expected to be!! that's not how humans were built!! we were built for community and support!! anyways ramble over, 7 YEARS??? okayokay i'll trust

hehehehe sif's just silly like that, definitely not because their whole childhood and life and people and culture was erased via wishcraft

OOOOO i wanna know the name!!!! (also i like Kaia! good name!)

I AM IN YOUR WALLS!! CAUSE IT'S COMFY!! SNACKS!!

hehehehe always the last to realize!! and she's so real for that (she's just like me fr)!

oooo okay okay thank you!!! i am not french (i do speak some but it's bastard french, not even quebecois, worse) so i cannot say nothing!! ooo siffrin hazelnut!! w/ calling them saffron that would be sillier, siffrin aveline saffron hazelnut

so siffrin's always been making a home in the house of change, fucked up that vaugarde's house probably reminder him of home while he still remembered home

oooooo lucien florist has islander decent!!! and is a florist!!! w/ the king flower dialogue that's interesting!!! cause in vaugardian culture you only give someone a flower if you like them but in islander culture you can give a flower to anyone who's important to you, i wonder if there's flower language in islander culture!! i wonder what amount of islander tradition got mixed into coastal vaugardian customs!!! i love cultural exchange in worldbuilding!!

DDDDD: how could you do this to me (i will i will, in time lol)

ooooo very interesting!!! are they like bird feathers?? like what kind of bird would they be closer to? (so i can visualize) ooo genetics okay okay trust

YESYESYES!!!! YAAAAAY ISLANDER EUPHRASIE!!!

oooo okay okay!!! im so here for that!! UGH i would actually sob if like the hairbrushing scene he asks mira for help! i would sob at the tenderness of her picking through his feathers, his shame, his self hatred, his last connection to home

THEY DO!!! YAY!!! hehehehe i love that, just a very much no touch stay away :D also it'd be funny if pre the party finding out about sif's wings they just assume that's when he gets his period and so at first try and bring him some stuff to help and he's like ?????

OOOO YAYAYAYAY I CANT WAIT!!!

WOAAAAH i wanna see loop's wings!!!!! :O that'd be so cool!!!

SO TRUE i also hear everyone's voice as the jello stream voices, like i don't hear written things in ppl's voices really but i assocciate them w/ those voices!!

i... i may try to do a shitty little sketch mayhaps.. i do have time this evening, fair warning i am not an artist im just so very normal about these characters (not hyperfixated at all idk even know what that is)

but happy holidays!! and a happy new year!!!!

(also if you want my thoughts on OTC i will happily give my silly little thoughts i've been writing down)

HELLO HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE @moons-among-distant-stars I COMR WITH A PRESENT.

OTC/DEISY RAMBLING!

im not warning for spoilers because im too tired to do that LMAOO but im putting most of this under the read more

So i saw one of ur reblogs to my reblog of ur reblog (a lot of reblog there) and i was like. Im gonna ramble again!! Mostly ab Sif’s wings!! So ya!!

No, Siffrin does not like his wings. They view them as a burden, as he can’t use them to fly, glide, or anything, and for other reasons. One of those being the fact that it’s a connection to the King, as he has wings too. But, it’s also not just with the fact that they’re just there, no, it’s also appearance wise. Their wings have shades suspiciously close to the shades the King’s wings once were before he was frozen in time. I WONDER WHY!! bats my eyes at you aggressively

Siffrin has trust problems when it comes to his wings, too. He’s so ashamed of them that he doesn’t let anyone outside his family see them, and even then that’s iffy on some days. Only a select few can even touch their wings without asking, those people being Isabeau, Loop, Colette, Léonce and Lucien.

Due to this hatred for his wings, Siffrin hardly takes care of them on some days. The only reason he does on most days is because Odile told him to, and Siffrin’s a sheep most of the time, not a shepherd (ouch, sorry Siffrin… LMAO). And when they don’t want to, then Léonce and/or Loop help him with it.

Sure, Isabeau thinks Siffrin’s wings are very cute, and yeah, it helps a little, but it doesn’t fix Siffrin’s insecurity and loathing of them. Siffrin’s self-hatred runs very deep, but, if you want a good side, it doesn’t run so deep that Siffrin would consider getting rid of them. That’d be severing one of the last links he has to his home, and that’s the last thing they want to do.

A. TIME FOR FLUFF!! Grabs you by the shoulders. Since Siffrin has wings, that means that normal clothing… really wouldn’t work for him. Before the events of IBaS,iTaT!ISAT, Siffrin stuck with cutting wing holes into his shirts, but after the loops, Isabeau began helping Siffrin with that, so now, most of Siffrin’s shirts and such are made by Isabeau. Isabeau has offered to do the same for Loop but Loop very quickly denied it and said they’re fine and they don’t need anything when they can steal from Siffrin. Which… is true. They do that sometimes LMAO.

Im giving you more fluff to balance out the angst. I did some thinking a few days ago and decided THIS!!!: Siffrin washed up in Vaugarde at 16 and Léonce found him (already canon) - they very very likely legally adopted him (translation: she did) since he was a child at the time and yk that child needed a guardian, (and fuck, sometimes he still does have you SEEN the stuff he gets into sometimes?) and well, they stuck to her like glue. Léonce’s last name is Aveline, and by proxy, that became Siffrin’s last name. So, technically, Siffrin does have a last name, which is Aveline. I really need to write a scene where Léonce full-names Siffrin in a tone of an annoyed mom 💀 (“SIFFRIN AVELINE.” LMAOO)

Due to the loops, Siffrin totally forgot about this until he went to Kaia with the party. Then he remembered. He has yet to even bring it up with the rest of the group but Odile has pieced things together based on observations of how Léonce treats Siffrin god awfully like a child of her own… so has Isabeau… but the others remain unknowing LOL

OKAY END OF YAP. IF U HAVE ANY QUESTIONS SURROUNDING THIS AU PLS PLS PLS ASK ME I WANT TO YAP MORE.

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[meteorella]

Nerdgasmic Rhapsody

pairings: loser!dom!ellie x popular!sub!reader

cw: flufff!! ellie's an absolute cutie pie. cursing (obv), oral! (r receiving), tribbing (maybe?), nipple play, after caree!!, pet names: sweetheart, baby, princess, that's all i think!

wc: 511

a/n: (intentional lowercase!!!) first ever ficcc omg🥹 i have never ever in my life written a fanfic before so pleaseee don't judge and also feel free to point out some mistakes and stuff!! I take criticisms as i'm sure it'll help me a lot throughout my writing journey :))) can't promise I'll post consistently considering I'm insanely dumped with school works but I'll definitely find time to do so. anyways i hope u guys enjoy this one!! Feel free to hit me w some ideaaasss :3

after you had made it official with the biggest dork on campus—ellie—people would randomly come up to you in the hallways and tease you, not believing how sweet she actually is. after all of your previous relationships, ellie is the only one who genuinely cared for you. despite her shy and nerdy demeanor, she's really fun to hang out with. she'd continuously yap about space, the comic books she's read—savage starlight—and drop all of its lore to you. the whole fucking lore. although you hardly cared. she was too adorable. most of the time, you would find yourself just looking at her sparkling green eyes, topped by her matte, black glasses, her hand gestures, and the soft smile plastered on her lips while she speaks. she's even more beautiful up close. how could others not see that? whilst ellie can be a total cutie pie, you cant deny how fucking insane she can be in bed.

when eating you out, she'd flick her tongue out relentlessly on your leaking hole. firmly gripping on to your thighs, she already knows your next motive. "nuh-uh, sweetheart. keep them open for me." she shoots you a knowing glare before diving back into your drenched core, keeping eye contact all the while. her gaze roamed over your appearance, hair disheveled, eyes rolled back, and completely fucked out. "s-sorry, baby–fuck." you moaned as you clutched onto her dino-printed sheets. so fucking cute. after you'd climaxed for the 3rd time, she'd climb on top of you and slip her tongue down your throat, allowing you to taste yourself as she grinded her own throbbing cunt against yours. your soaking wet pussies rubbing, and creating the most delicious rhythm together. she absolutely loved your boobs. she adored how it just bounces up and down as she rolled her hips above you. she took your nipple in between her thumb and her index finger and pinched them, making you flinch at the feeling. her glasses were all fogged up and crooked, but she couldn't care less. she was too engrossed on drawing out more of those angelic sounds that slips past your lips as she pleases you. "doing s–so good f'me, princess... fuck–so hot." when you had both finally reached your peak, she'd lean down and gently clean up all your juices from between your thighs with her tongue.

she gives absolutely the best aftercare imaginable. the routine would start with cleaning you up with a wet towel, swiping it's soft material across your face, your breasts, your legs, your inner thighs—she had always taken care of you in the most tender and loving way. she loved hearing your soft, exhausted sighs of relief, as you watch her with a smile on your face all while savoring the chocolate she so graciously offered you. after ellie finishes cleaning you up, she would settle beside you, enveloping you in her arms as she wrapped them around your waist. her lips showering your neck with gentle kisses as she whispered heartfelt words of affection. "i'm going to marry you one day."

YAAALLLL OMG I HOPE THIS DIDN'T SUCK TOO HARD😣😣😣🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 i hope u guys enjoyed this one, i really enjoyed writing thisss!!

tags: @ellstronaut

dividers: @khaer @plutism

[valsverse]

𐑺 ˖ ࣪ ࿐ྂ I WANNA BE YOURS | percy jackson x gn!reader

percy jackson looks at you like you were the one who put the stars in the sky.

the son of poseidon gazes at you with so much awe and admiration in his eyes that most people would think you had just defeated a minotaur with your bare hands, or cured cancer or saved the world from total destruction, something that would be remembered for centuries to come. but in reality, all you did was toss a few nuts to the squirrels that scurried around camp. percy jackson looks at you in such a way that even aphrodite herself would point and squeal.

though, he'd never admit to that. the only telltale sign of his infatuation is the rosy tint that creeps up the tips of his ears every time you you pass by, and his lips that struggle to stay in a straight line whenever you flash him that smile—the one that makes his heart leap up and into his throat. even after four years of friendship, percy still hasn't figured out how to sit next to you and not be totally in love with everything you do.

it's as though you have some sort of magic power over him—a power that he's powerless to resist. and as much as he'd like to deny it, he secretly revels in the feeling.

but percy jackson would never confess his desires for you—not when kronos is still actively seeking to wipe out the demigod population. he can't afford to display any signs of weakness.

but it's worth it, he thinks, to risk everything just to wrap his arms around you and plant a kiss on your lips that would set the world on fire. yet he knows he can't—not without endangering you. not without putting you in harm's way. so why is it so unbearable to imagine life without you, when you were never really his to begin with?

and in those moments, when his mind is consumed with thoughts of you, memories of your touch and your gaze playing on repeat in his mind, he's left thinking, 'did i imagine it?' did he dream up the way your touch lingered on his arm as you adjusted his armor? the way you looked at him across the dining pavilion before turning away, as if you'd been caught in the act of something secret and sweet? he must have, right? because you would never look at someone like him with such tenderness. not at someone hot-headed and impulsive, someone with so many rough edges. no, you couldn't have looked at him like that. it must all be in his head.

you couldn't have looked at him the same way he looks at you.

despite his best efforts to conceal it, percy's convinced that everyone can see right through him. he knows that everyone can see right through him. the teasing from his fellow campers has been relentless—nicknames hurled his way, each one more unflattering than the last. romeo, hopeless romantic, loverboy..

loverboy.

he's no loverboy. not some kind of lovesick puppy at the mercy of some unattainable crush. no, that nickname is only reserved for the truly whipped, those who are wrapped around someone's finger, glued to their side at all times. he's no..

and then his head snaps up at the sound of your voice, suddenly alert. and there you are, all dazzling and gorgeous, a beacon in a sea of identical orange t-shirts and jeans. you stand out as though a spotlight has been trained on you alone. which is weird because to most people you're just another camper. albeit, an incredibly beautiful camper, but still, just a camper. so why is he so infatuated with you, specifically?

maybe he is a loverboy.

the realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and he almost groans out loud. can't he just carve his heart out and be done with it at this point? isn't that what the poets do?

but since he never really cared for those dead old men taught in school, like edward allan poe or whatever his name was, he'll settle for just daydreaming now. he'll settle for stolen glances across the room and the brush of your hands as you reach for a book. he'll settle for relishing in your little touches and how your lips shine in blueberry chapstick until he's ready. he'll admire the curve of your nose and the triumphant hugs you give him after your team wins capture the flag. he'll settle for it until it's not enough anymore. he'll settle for it until he needs more.

[hurtblossom]

When we grow old ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!reader

Summary: Interviewer asks you how you see your relationship in the future, and your answer leaves everyone speech less.

Warning: Fluff, people being disgustingly in love, bad english.

This is based of an interview i watched on tiktok, and on Kylie's and Travis's video on GQ

masterlist

Lando and Y/N had been together for almost a year now. From the moment they met, it was as if the universe had aligned just for them. They spent nearly every moment they could together, whether at his apartment or hers. Y/N never missed a race, always there in the stands or watching anxiously from the paddock, her heart swelling with pride. She was his biggest supporter, not just on the track but in every aspect of his life.

For Y/N, Lando was everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner. She was convinced that he was her soulmate, the one she was meant to spend her life with. Nothing and no one could make her believe otherwise. Lando wasn’t shy about showing his love for her either. He spoke about her with a tenderness that made everyone around him smile. Whenever he had the chance to mention her, he did, his eyes lighting up with every word. He defended her fiercely whenever someone had something negative to say about her or their relationship. Y/N was deeply in love with him, and every day, she hoped that he felt the same way.

When Y/N received an invitation to join Lando for an interview, she was genuinely surprised. She wasn’t accustomed to the spotlight; her world had always been more private. Although she had social media, most of her followers were there because of Lando.

And so, she found herself seated in a chair across from him, a gentle hum of anticipation in the air. Someone adjusted the mic on her shirt, making sure her voice would be captured clearly. As she sat there, waiting for the cameras to start rolling, she stole a glance at Lando. He looked at her with that familiar warmth, the kind that made her feel like she was the only person in the room.

"Hey everyone, I’m Lando, and this is my girlfriend Y/N. We’re here with GQ, ready to answer some questions about our relationship," Lando began, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“So, first question: how did we meet?” Y/N read aloud from a card she had been given before the interview. She looked at Lando, a playful glint in her eye. “Do you want to answer that?”

“Yeah.” Lando smiled softly at her, his gaze full of affection. “For those who don’t know, Y/N here is McLaren’s official Social Media Manager. She started working with the team about a year and a half ago, and yeah, I met her during her very first meeting with us, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

“That’s correct, Mister Norris,” Y/N said, her tone light but filled with pride. Lando raised his hand for a high five, and she gladly met it.

“Okay, my turn. What was our first date, and what was our last? And which one did you enjoy the most?” he asked, tossing the flashcard behind him with a playful grin.

“Our first date was when you took me out to an Italian restaurant. You dressed all fancy,” she laughed, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “And the last one was two days ago; we went to your yacht and just sat there, watching the sunset.” Her voice softened, a smile tugging at her lips. “I can’t pick which one I preferred; honestly, every moment with you feels like a blessing.”

Lando’s smile grew tender. “That’s really sweet, baby.”

“Okay, next question!” Y/N announced with a playful energy that made Lando chuckle. “What are three things you love and hate about each other?”

“Well, that one’s easy,” Lando replied instantly. “I love your smile, your eyes, and your laugh. They light up my world. As for the three things I hate… I’d have to say your impatience, how easily you get mad, and the fact that you hold grudges.”

“That was quick,” Y/N said, raising an amused eyebrow. “I guess it’s my turn. So, I love your determination—how you never give up on what you do, even when it seems impossible. I love that you have a big heart and wear it on your sleeve. And your eyes… you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen, and I could get lost in them forever. Now, for the things I hate: you tend to take things too personally, you can be just a tad too flirty, and… your sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor? What’s wrong with it?” he asked, feigning shock.

“You’re just not that funny, baby,” Y/N teased, shrugging playfully, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on my jokes.”

Y/N picked up the next flashcard. “Here’s a good one: What’s something surprising you’ve learned about me since we started dating?”

Lando paused for a moment, thinking. “Honestly, I think the most surprising thing I’ve learned is just how incredibly strong you are. I mean, I always knew you were tough, but seeing how you handle everything—whether it’s work stress, being in the public eye, or supporting me through all the ups and downs—has been amazing. You never let anything break you, and that’s something I admire so much.”

Y/N felt her heart swell with emotion. “Thank you, Lando. That means a lot coming from you.”

She cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice steady as she read the next question. “What’s your favorite memory of us together?”

“That’s a tough one,” Lando said, smiling as he reminisced. “But I think it would have to be that weekend we spent in the countryside, just the two of us. No cameras, no phones, no distractions—just us. We went hiking, had a picnic by the lake, and at night, we watched the stars. It was simple, but it was perfect. It was one of those moments where I just felt… complete.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes misty with tears. “I remember that weekend. It was beautiful.”

Lando reached out, taking her hand in his. “We should do that more often—just escape from everything and be together.”

“Definitely,” Y/N agreed, squeezing his hand. “Okay, here’s the next question: What’s something you wish we could do together in the future?”

Lando thought for a moment before answering. “I’d love for us to travel more, see the world together. There are so many places I want to explore with you, and I think it would be amazing to share those experiences. But more than that, I just want us to keep building a life together, no matter where we go.”

Y/N smiled softly. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, last question,” Lando said, his tone growing more serious. “And this one’s just for you, Y/N: how do you see this relationship evolving?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart beating a little faster as she thought about the future. “Oh, that’s a hard one. How do I see this relationship evolving? Well, first of all, I’d like for us to stay together, to grow old… without sounding like a complete psycho,” she began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion.

“You’re fine; go on,” he encouraged her, his eyes never leaving hers, filled with a deep, unwavering love.

“If one day we end up on different paths—and I really hope that never happens, because seriously, you’re everything to me—I know I won’t want anyone else,” she said, her voice soft but sincere. “But if life does pull us apart, I don’t want us to hate each other or lose all the good memories we made. I want you to remember me with a smile, and I’ll always wish you the best, because I’d never want anything bad for you. You’re my first real love, Lando, and what we have is something I know I’ll never feel with anyone else.”

She paused for a moment, her heart racing as she took a deep breath. “So, with that said,” she added with a little laugh, “let’s just agree to never break up, okay? Because honestly, that would be super awkward and totally heartbreaking for both of us.”

Her words hung in the air, filled with the raw, honest emotion of young love, and Lando couldn’t help but smile at her attempt to lighten the mood, even though he knew how deeply she meant every word.

He was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in. He looked at Y/N, his eyes filled with love and something deeper—determination.

“GQ, I think we’re done here,” Lando finally said, his voice steady but with a clear edge of emotion. “Because what I have to say now, I want her to know it’s real.”

He turned to Y/N, taking her hands in his as if grounding himself in the moment. “You’ve always been the one for me, Y/N. From the very beginning, I knew there was something about you that I couldn’t let go of, and that hasn’t changed. Hearing you talk about different paths… it scares me, because I don’t want to imagine my life without you in it.”

He paused, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand. “But I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not just in love with you; I’m committed to us. I’m committed to making sure that we keep growing together, facing whatever life throws our way. I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll always fight for us.”

Lando’s voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re my first love, Y/N, and I want you to be my last. I want to share every moment, every milestone, and every challenge with you. I want us to look back one day, gray and wrinkled, and say, ‘We did this together.’ Because you’re it for me. You always have been, and you always will be.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting the moment linger. When he pulled back, there was a quiet intensity in his eyes, a promise unspoken but deeply felt.

“So let’s stop worrying about different paths,” he whispered, “and focus on the one we’re on, together. Because I’m not letting go, not now, not ever.”

the end

plot twist : he cheated, so they broke up... men 🍵 (jk😞)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Logan and Wade with shy gn s/o please?

I’m going to assume separate unless told otherwise as poly relationship between Wade/Logan and reader would be cool too, but again unless specified I’m just going to assume it’s separate.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

Wade found your shyness adorable but found your reactions to his teasing and flirting.

And he abuses the shit out of that to his hearts content.

Mouse was a nickname that you were given almost immediately from the moment you met as you were quiet and cute as one too that to Wade it just fit you perfectly.

Wade; stop being so fucking cute!

You: huh?

Wade: you heard me! It should be illegal to be as cute as you! You should be locked up for the thing you do to me, but I’d rather keep ahold of the details because half of them might make you faint little mouse.

You: oh. 😶🫣

Wade will make it a tradition to take you by surprise, whether it be by randomly kissing you, hugging you from behind, playfully smacking your ass, it didn’t matter because your tendency to whine his name out in embarrassment ‘waaaaddde!’ Before hiding your face in his chest as he laughs and whispers teasing words into your ear that only makes your flustered state worsen.

Wade didn’t mind that you were shy, he really didn’t as he found it to be one of the many things he loved about you and wanted to protect, he didn’t want you to feel as though you should have to change to better fit him when he was more content with you being you.

He’s never had as much fun nor laughter in his life like he did when he was with you, and Wade considered himself lucky to have someone as soft and sweet as you that he often times thought you’d be better off without a fuck up like him in your life but he’d kept it to himself, disguising it with humour and teasing you instead.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

Logan finds you being shy amusing to say the least.

It brought his protective instincts out as someone as soft and shy and softly spoken as you would need him by your side 24/7.

He’s your guard dog, scary dog privilege in the form of a very traumatised man who’s became more familiar with pain and heartbreak than the tender affection and touches you give him.

So you found it best to be patient with Logan and give him time to become familiar with your love and affection until he felt ready to reciprocate in his own way. And Logan appreciated you for that and would let you know his appreciation by planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

Logan is a softy with you and while he’s quick to bite back at other people, with you he’s much softer with his words that they’re practically sweet murmurs whispered within your ear, as he held you against his chest protectively as you both drifted off to sleep.

He more or less acts as your voice whenever you felt discomfort, he’d could easily tell from your bodily language and would immediately step in, and voice your discomfort for you in your stead for Logan knew that you’d rather avoid conflict then delve headfirst into it like him.

However Logan would be the type to try and teach you ways to defend yourself and how to stick up for yourself when he couldn’t, this is probably out of his fear of losing someone dear to his heart again, but he wasn’t about to risk looking you when he could give you the tools to keep yourself safe while he was away.

He gives you his jacket, just make sure that the point gets across that you were his and not theirs, after all he’s a possessive man who doesn’t like sharing what’s his with anyone else.

He didn’t care about anyone else, you were the only thing he gave two shits about alongside Laura Kinney (x 23) other then you two, nothing else mattered to Logan. He just wanted you to be happy for as long as possible.

Side note: he’d love it if you and Laura got along, it’ll mean all the more to him.

[vaguely-concerned]

the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

[multific]

His Love

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: You were meant to marry him, thinking he is an unkind man, you kept your distance from him, but soon, you learned the truth. 

As the sun cast its golden rays over the bustling streets of ancient Rome, Marcus Acacius, a bold Roman soldier, crossed paths with you, his soon-to-be wife. 

At first, your heart held nothing but hate for this man, seeing him as a brute and unkind soul. 

However, destiny had a different plan in store for both of you.

In an unexpected turn of events, you discovered that he was nothing like your initial judgment had led you to believe. 

Beneath his hardened exterior lay a heart filled with kindness, compassion, and a burning love for you.

You wanted to explore that.

To see where it would lead the two of you. 

And so, you began to spend more time together. 

You ate together and even went on many walks around the city. Seeing him interact with people made you realise just how kind he was.

Watching him smile spread a warmth inside your heart.

Slowly, the walls you had built around your heart began to crumble. 

Marcus's gentle words and thoughtful gestures slowly melted away your worries, allowing love to blossom inside you. 

In the tender moments shared, he revealed his vulnerability and how deeply he had fallen for you.

One evening, Marcus took your hand and whispered to you. 

"My love, I know that our journey together began with animosity, but I promise you, my intentions have always been pure. I am here to protect you, cherish you, and love you with every fibre of my being."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words. 

"Marcus, I never imagined that behind your cold facade, there would be such a loving heart. I am grateful for the person you have shown me, and I too must confess, I have fallen deeply in love with you."

From that moment forward, your lives intertwined as you embarked on a journey filled with love, trust, and unwavering devotion.

Your wedding was simple. Your family was there, and you had a great time.

But you were just thankful for the journey ahead of you with a husband so loving, kind and handsome. 

In the years that followed, amidst the madness of war and the difficulties of life, Marcus remained your dedicated rock. 

His unwavering support and unwavering love carried you through every storm, reminding you of the depth of his commitment.

Of his Love.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[fos-tis-zois]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

you were still in the early stages of dating nanami kento, but it was enough to know that the serious and stoic sorcerer had managed to steal your heart. Discovering a side to him which came out only in front of you did things to your heart you didn't know was possible. He had made you smile and blush uncontrollably, much to your embarrassment, from the first date itself. He was so gentlemanly that you did not know how to act around this man. But the unforgettable happened on your fourth date. That was the first time you saw him blush, and your heart skipped such a beat that discovering his little love languages became your life goal.

It was a crisp evening, and you had arranged to meet Nanami at a quaint café he frequented. He was waiting for you at the entrance, dressed impeccably in one of his many sexy suits. But today, his tie was slightly askew. As you approached him, you couldn’t help but notice the minor imperfection in this usual perfectly made man and it made your heart smile.

“Hi, Kento,” you greeted him with a warm smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach his tie. “Let me fix this for you.”

Your fingers gently adjusted the tie, and as you stepped back, you were greeted with the most endearing sight. Nanami’s cheeks were a deep hue of red, and his usually composed eyes were struggling to meet yours. You could hardly believe that such a small gesture could elicit such a reaction from him.

Ever since that evening, it became your mission to uncover more ways to make your perfect man blush. You discovered that surprise homemade lunches were one of those ways. One of your biggest love languages was cooking for people you love. Since Nanami always had little gifts sent to you, you thought of taking a cute bento with a freshly baked mini baguette sandwich filled with tender roast beef, crisp lettuce, and a touch of mustard. It was introduced to you by him because of your shared love of good bread and you thoughtfully wanted him to have a version of yours. 

“The life I have doesn’t grant me much care” he said with a faint blush on his face, with a mixture of love for you but the pain his life has given him that it made your heart cry for him. Kento appreciated quality, and when you packed him a meticulously prepared lunch with all his favorite foods, his appreciative, shy smile made your heart flutter. You were determined to make him feel loved, for all he does for everyone.

Nanami is used to being the protector, so you insisted on taking care of him, even in small ways. He would laugh lightly with a rosy blush and hug you from behind as you insist adamantly in front of your big man that you will handle dinner and all he needs to do is have some wine and tell you about his day.

“You’re too good to me”, he would say in your ear, kissing your earlobes. “You deserve this and so much more, my love” you kiss his cheeks as his head sinks deeper in the crook of your neck..

Planning spontaneous dates showed you another side of him. A visit to a cozy bookstore, or a surprise trip to a quaint café during his lunch break would bring out a softer, more relaxed Nanami, whose rare, genuine smiles made your heart skip a beat. He would show you the books he likes a lot, telling you how he’s been looking for their first editions, while you take mental notes to gift him those books later. Taking him out for his lunch breaks also sometimes showed you how stressful his job was, as he vented about his annoying co-worker and the insane morals of the higher ups in his profession. 

“I have never had such ease talking about my life to someone, y/n. Thank you for being here for me." Kento's gratitude often showed in the form of a rosy blush. You longed to tell him what you would do to bring this smile and contentment on this man’s face. 

Leaving heartfelt notes for him became a habit. You’d slip them into his briefcase or jacket pocket, knowing that he’d find them during his busy day. His texts thanking you were always sweet and sometimes accompanied by a shy confession of how much he loved your notes.

But the easiest way to make him blush was simply by being genuinely happy. Your laughter and joy, especially when caused by something he did or said, never failed to bring a blush to his cheeks and a soft, pleased smile to his lips.

Every little discovery about what made Kento blush was a victory for you. It wasn’t just about the cute reactions; it was about understanding the layers of this complex, wonderful man who had become such an important part of your life. And with each blush, you fell more in love with him, knowing that beneath his stoic exterior was a heart that beat just for you.

hopefully first of manyy nanami fluffs. please reblog if u liked it! suggestions and comments are always always welcome! 💖💖💖

nanami art by artist @/xiaoshy_otp on twitter banner by @anitalenia