#there were times were repressing my feelings lead to me lashing out and making everything more painful

[catwouthats]

“Feelings that seek nothing in return will always become twisted”

Girl calm down with the quotes this is a short lesbian Isekai anime 😭

[feelo-fick]

Headcanon: Chilchuck and his Bad Takes on Literature

i think chilchuck would be like my mom in the sense that he wouldnt like sad stories. dont get me wrong, cautionary tales? absolutely fine. they serve a purpose to him which is to tell people "dont be an idiot and do this or else something bad will happen"

generally sad or angsty stories though? no point to him, and in his perspective its really confusing how people just read things that make them sad. like whats the use of reading something if its just gonna make you sad. whats the lesson? its not even real so it doesnt help anyone.

whats the point in making yourself cry when you could just avoid that entirely by not reading it at all?

but the one of the biggest reasons why sad stories exist is to let you release all the built up grief in you. to send you something to let out all your emotions in a healthy way. catharsis. empathy.

even when i dont relate to the tragic experiences in some stories, several ones ive read have lead me to realize that im in a bad situation or that im following in the footsteps of the character suffering. its like a wake up call.

and making yourself cry isnt inherently a bad thing. if crying allows you to let go of building pressure and tension in you then thats good!

but chil wouldnt see that. of course he wouldnt, hes avoidant of most situations that would allow him to release emotion, and fearful of letting his mature (read: repressed) persona slip.

hes someone that runs away to quick comforts and distractions at the earliest sign of issue. hes already been in too many horrifying situations, dealing with another is a pain. and he knows denying everything and refusing to look at the situation doesnt help, but it definitely provides a quick and easy happiness in the comfort of ignorance.

because of this, reading something made to make one empathize with and confront these bad emotions is defeating the point of his cowering. if he faces his issues, even if only through the perspective of a story, he'd have to deal with acknowledging that things are bad and need fixing, and he'd feel terrible and guilty in the moment - which of course is the worst thing that could happen to a person (his thought, not mine).

which is why i find the concept of him being/becoming a tragedy himself at the same time as this headcanon soooo interesting. imagine the irony of him bashing on the protagonists of tragic stories for acting on emotion and impulse rather than logic, when he himself has fallen victim to irrational thinking while in grief.

cause... thats what people do when they grieve. they lash out, make bad decisions, ruin themselves, ruin others.

for a tragedy to be prevented, the protagonists would have to change fundamental parts of themselves, and act perfectly rational when under extreme stress. and chilchuck holds himself to these kinds of unrealistic standards because he unwittingly believes he can handle it all.

he cant, obviously. we see it for ourselves in his relationship with his wife. they were doomed from the beginning by chils already-established avoidance and lack of emotional vulnerabiltiy (and whatever else his wife had going on).

this is all just to say that if you told him about orpheus and eurydice, he'd probably be one of those idiots trying to point out the "plot hole" that he couldve "just not looked back" and "just trusted her"

i dont understand. whats the point in reading tragedies? the protagonist is stupid, anyways. why would you take bitter medicine? why subject yourself to that?

i think its just a bad story.

[crimson-camellia]

Ruby’s Despair Arc

The voice acting performances from Miles and Lindsay down to the last line were so chilling and visceral.

Alright let’s talk about this. I know that the breakdown from the episode (may just be the beginning of it too) has been analyzed a lot. So my thoughts: in short, it was really well done and raw.

Ruby has the burden of the world on her shoulders, and is now living the worst moment of her life currently. She, according to Lindsay, doesn’t know how to healthily process her losses and trauma and turmoils. “[Ep4] Her subconscious is telling her, “here are all the ways you feel you failed not only as a person but as a team leader’ ”

The moment where she finally begins to vent is when Weiss calls her attention to lead again (Ruby’s interpretation of “Right, Ruby?”) and to agree with the Blake and Yang’s words towards Jaune after the flood. Throughout the volume, Ruby’s been placed in situations where she has to lead like, for example, literally carrying her team for almost three episodes. There was no time to slow down and let her feelings catch up. Her team has tried to reach out, but they’re either interrupted (which was very frustratingly noticeable in this episode) or Ruby shrugs them off and refuses to open up. Unfortunately the negative emotions coming from both Jaune and Ruby reacted with each other; Ruby lashed out towards her teammates and also clearly projected her insecurities and repressed emotions.

To Weiss, “Gotta find someone who isn’t just going to screw everything up!”—> I believe this is a callback to how unaccepting Weiss was to have Ruby as a partner then leader. Ruby now genuinely feels that all she has done was screw up everything, proving Vol1;Weiss right, and now throwing it in her face. (It would have been chilling if she said something like, “You were right, Ozpin making me the leader was a mistake”)

To the Bees, “Maybe even finally getting our feelings sorted out!” —> I see this as her lashing out (in some jealousy) that the Bees worked their feeling out (and are happy together) and she has done nothing for herself, therefore can’t be fully and honestly (yet) excited about their new relationship. Also, others pointed out the parallels between Blake and Ruby and now that Blake in this volume have taken the most charge and acted like the leader, especially in the first two episodes.

To Jaune, I don’t know why the writers are having us wait so long after RWBY and Jaune’s reunion to finally have Ruby learn Penny’s true cause of death on the bridge. Jaune is coping with his losses and actions in his own way, but he’s not making progress and refuses to change his mind about the tree-he’s basically in a stalemate at the moment- he has been for however long he’s been in Ever After. To hear Ruby call out the uselessness of mourning his “make-believe friends”, is when he finally lashed out and fed into her anger, saying what he’s been holding into for years for him that finally caused her to take off alone.

I’ve seen some theories popping up in places that state Ruby might try to sacrifice herself to the tree in order for the others to leave. The lyrics from the song “Trapdoor” is another look into her mental state too. She might’ve left to pursue Neo or find a way to the tree or back to the blacksmith even or maybe just to swing Crescent Rose around.

(I can say more, but that’s the short of it)

[crimeronan]

Can you explain the appeal of Julian Blackthorn? This is a genuine question because I read the books and came away utterly bored by him and unconvinced of his moral greyness as opposed to like, Adam Parrish’s. He seemed so one dimensional to me but I want to know if I’m Wrong TM considering I tend to be very very biased toward my favourite characters and bored by the rest, and my favourites were Mark and Kieran. So maybe I just didn’t pay him enough attention??

it’s been a while since i wrote any earnest tsc meta but cringe culture is dead and the chance to infodump about my julian thoughts has me vibrating where i’m sitting so.  yes okay.

technical stuff

(aka: things pertaining to How The Story Is Constructed)

cassandra clare’s characterization has become much stronger just in general since she first began writing the series like twenty years ago

perhaps most importantly: the more recent stuff i’ve read from her has involved characters who actually grow, change, and learn from their past mistakes 

rather than repeating the same stupid decisions over and over again

and over and over and over some more

seriously take a shot every time someone in tmi miscommunicates or self-destructs in ways They Have Learned Not To Do for no real reason. u will die of alcohol poisoning

in tda this shines ESPECIALLY with the evolution of mark, kieran, and cristina’s relationship, but that’s a separate post

clare’s trademark is also the angsty traumatized jerkass love interest with a secret heart of gold

the woman is almost singlehandedly responsible for draco in leather pants and the proliferation of this kind of character type in fandom and teen lit. this isn’t a criticism it’s me marveling at how if you commit hard enough to a single trope you truly can change the world.  follow your dreams

sad jackass with a heart of gold isn’t an Inherently Problematic Character Type

but poorly done it can lead to relationship dynamics in which one partner is constantly being hurt by and then forgiving the other despite them making no real effort to change, because they are narratively absolved due to being sad

(there’s a lot of this with earlier jace content.  in some ways i think will was later created specifically to be a same-archetype protagonist who actually does get called on his shit and grow. that’s also another post)

also if all of your sexy male love interests are tortured jackasses with a heart of gold then people start calling you a one-trick pony

enter julian blackthorn!

from the very start everything about him is designed to be the INVERSE of the heart of gold jackass.  which immediately makes him interesting just from a meta perspective

(mark and kieran are also both alternate angles on this time-honored archetype.  mark gets the heart of gold and kieran gets the jackass and then they’re both much more deeply messy than that.  yet another post)

julian is kind, self-sacrificing, empathetic, artistic, emotionally supportive, responsible, and favored by old grannies everywhere

so a completely nonthreatening milquetoast guy, right

immediately forgettable if you’re only here for the dramatic conflicts and shithead antics of clare’s other protags

except that he is A Mess

and that he has structured his priorities very carefully, and they are as selfless as you expect from The Hero (TM) but they are also Not Heroic (TM) and they do not align with the moral framework The Hero (TM) is supposed to use

moral ambiguity in characters always exists in relation to their narratives imo. you mention adam parrish - trc’s narrative already mucks around in different ethical shades of gray, and adam falls on the canon scale about where julian does on his canon scale.  both more willing than the average pov character to do the ruthless thing or make the fucked-up choice if the ends justify the means; both with an intensely strong sense of internal priorities that they adhere to at all costs, both so unbelievably fucking down for murder; etc

i do think there are ways julian’s choices could have been pushed even further, but considering the number of readers who hate his guts already, i can see why clare opted not to go for the most controversial possible conflicts

so we’re flipping the narrative

instead of seeing this angsty bad boy and peeling back the layers of his trauma to find his heart of gold, we’re seeing the put-together selfless family man and peeling back the layers of his Responsibility Mask to expose the rotting husk underneath

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

THAT IS FUN AS FUCK

then when julian DOES lash out in hurtful, uncontrolled ways, he has significantly more narrative justification for it than most of clare’s protagonists (will elaborate in characterization thoughts)

julian is also interesting as fuck because of how his struggles allow for a more in-depth look at the failings of shadowhunter society, something that’s also sorely lacking in clare’s earlier work

his apparent amorality is simply the result of him making pragmatic and impossible choices because he has been faced with fucked-up ethical dilemmas since age 12 Because Society Has Failed Him

which opens the door for narrative exploration of how and why he’s been failed so badly & what needs to change

i also love that he has such a coldly calculated way of analyzing situations and allowing harm to occur when need be, bc a lot of clare’s early protagonists have such a bad case of Rush In And Get Myself Killed Because I’ve Got Feelings About Impulsive Heroism syndrome that i wanna push them in front of a truck

probably there’s other meta narrative stuff i could say but i’m stopping myself and moving on to character analysis

characterization stuff

(aka: reasons why i’m also attached to him in a vacuum)

i don’t read him as one-dimensional at all tbh

u may feel the narrative pushes “ruthless julian blackthorn” too much without delivering enough actual ruthless julian But i don’t think that’s the same as having only one dimension

from the get-go, the big question centered on julian is always “how far are you willing to go?” and the narrative pushes the stakes slowly higher and higher to continuously test julian’s “the price is always justified” mindset

he has a far more layered and realistic response to trauma than clare’s early protagonists - trauma affects every single aspect of his personality and how he conducts himself, and the effects vary depending on the circumstances

his conviction that he has to be the perfect parent to his siblings because they will fall apart if they see him show weakness??  rooted in how he feels like he’s fallen apart since losing the stable adult support he once relied upon

his willingness to hurt semi-innocent people, commit coldblooded murder, manipulate people using political leverage, allow harm to befall any stranger if it protects his family??  rooted in how he has already had to ask himself how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and how his family is his only source of stability when the world has never done Shit for him

his conviction that he has a darker heart than anyone else because he killed his possessed father, even though intellectually he knows he was saving his brother’s life??  rooted in having no means of processing this trauma and being unable to voice his feelings for fear of backlash from a deeply non-understanding society

the way he represses every single negative emotion he ever has, to the point where emma - his actual literal magic soulmate who can feel his emotions - is startled to find him hurting or angry??  once again all about how he has to be the perfect father or he’s failed completely

the way his anger is so totally disproportionate to different situations and the way his negative emotions can only come out in completely uncontrolled breaks??  all that repression baybey.  this kid has not processed a single bad feeling in five years.  every single real grievance and petty annoyance has been festering indefinitely inside him like a slowly spreading infection

julian’s arc involves him needing to get thru being his worst self to actually start to heal

as in, he has to actually learn to acknowledge his feelings, take care of himself, lean on his family, and let other people take some responsibility

he also has to learn that in his quest to be the perfect emotionally controlled authority figure, he has not actually learned how to control or deal with his emotions. like. At Fucking All. good god

the narrative setup is also about asking “how far are you willing to go?” until the answer is finally “not this far.  not this far”

and once he reaches that point, he has to reevaluate everything about how he weighs his priorities and morals and plans, etc

(i also like that emma has a perpendicular arc in which she’s always the one tempering julian and telling him “no we can’t go that far” until she’s willing to do something horrific that he absolutely won’t and HE has to stop HER. very sexy)

it’s also just really nice to have a character who’s learned to relate so well to literally every single member of his family while still having a very detached ruthless interior consciousness. i have similar feelings about how adam teaches himself to love people, but with julian it’s spelled out more explicitly in canon & it’s a more central character theme

i’m sure i’m also forgetting stuff here but this post is long enough so i’m gonna say good enough

and like i said in the tags on my other post, there are things i’d personally write differently if it were my story - plot points i’d shift, character contrasts i’d up, themes i’d explore differently, pacing i’d adjust, etc.  i have plenty of ways i could be nitpicky and editorial about the effectiveness of julian’s arc.  but i also don’t feel like writing them out at the moment & none of my critiques on effectiveness have an impact on the core appeal of his character 2 me.  he’s so fucking good

[skullsandwineglasses]

Remembrance of Things Past - Eps 1-10 Impression/Rant

Not really a first impressions post since there are only 2 episodes left, but as I’m waiting on the last few episodes, I thought I’d rant a bit about the drama here. 

First of all, I agree with everything that AvenueX said in her review of the first 6 episodes. Her review is what prompted me to start the drama. I needed a realistic slice of life drama to balance out the idol drama that is You Are My Glory (which I’m also waiting on for new episodes), and ROTP seemed to fit bill. ROTP is just so good.

I binged ROTP in 3 days. It could have been 2 days, but I started it at 2am on a Wednesday night, so I didn’t get very far the first night. Each episode is about 75 minutes long, so almost the equivalent of 2 regular lengthed episodes, but not quite. 

I cried during the first two episodes. The character development is just phenomenal. You really feel for Jing Jing’s character even though you’ve only seen her character for an hour. There are little moments throughout the drama that made me tear up too, like when the girls were celebrating Nan Jia jie’s 36th birthday and I got emotional over how close their bond is, or moments when the girls reflected on their aging parents and how we often take our parents for granted. 

Plot pacing and structure

The plot is tight and well-paced, and each girl’s storyline is interwoven well. Sometimes they’d cut between simultaneous scenes between the girls to compare and contrast what they’re each going through. For instance, when Xu Yan is having an argument with her boyfriend, the drama will also cut and flip back and forth to Qiao Xi Chen going through problems at her workplace. When Xu Yan makes up with her boyfriend, the drama cuts to QXC and Nan Jia being romantically pursued by Jian Yi Fan and Ou Yang. It’s interesting to see how their lives mirror and differ from each other. 

Because the storylines between the girls are so interwoven and keep flipping back and forth between each other, it makes it hard to skip scenes because you can’t just skip an entire segment or else you’ll miss something important in all 3 storylines. I can see that this might be a little annoying if you have a preference for one of the girls and want to skip someone else’s storyline. But I actually like seeing all 3 of their stories play out, so I’m not bothered by it. 

Another aspect about the plot’s structure that I appreciate is how they use the mystery behind Jing Jing’s suicide as a throughline for the drama. Up until episode 8ish(?), each episode ends with a question about Jing Jing’s life prior to her suicide and the next episode opens with the girls trying to find an answer or a clue to it. The girls and we the audience learn more and more about Jing Jing with each episode. However, episodes 9 and 10 deviate from the structure a bit and so the drama has recently been less and less focused on Jing Jing’s story, especially after they found out that she had depression. The drama seems to imply that her depression due to the stress of living in Beijing was the main factor that led to her suicide, while the successive unfortunate events that happened on her birthday was the trigger. 

Characters

I like all the main characters in the drama, albeit some a little more than others, which I’ll explain. I think the 3 male love interests are a little too perfect though, and so I guess this slice of life drama is actually a little idealistic after all. 

Xu Yan - My least favourite of the four girls. She’s materialistic, but not as spoiled as I though she would be. But it does annoy me how she keeps picking fights with Shen Zi Chang, when he’s just trying his best. He’s so tolerant and patient with her. He apologizes, they make up, and then the cycle repeats. It’s just a very unhealthy relationship, and I’m tried of seeing them fight and make up. 

EDIT: So, I started writing this review when I had only watched up until episode 9, but now that I’ve finished episode 10, um, wtf?? Xu Yan made a bad choice and got scammed of all her money, her friends try to comfort her, loan her money, and tell her not to repress her emotions like Jing Jing. And then she just lashes out at them saying they have no right to comfort her because they were the ones who caused Jing Jing’s death. Xu Yan starts off blaming QXC for not knowing that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and then she blames Nan Jia for being a bad older cousin. She blames both of them for being ignorant of Jing Jing’s depression and only caring about themselves. QXC (rightfully) retorts back than Xu Yan knew all along that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and yet Xu Yan never told anyone, so she’s just as guilty as all of them. Honestly, I was sympathetic towards Xu Yan before, but she was just so ungrateful and entitled in that scene. What right does she have pointing fingers and assigning guilt to people? And to weaponize Jing Jing’s death against them? That’s just cruel. The argument between them in that scene at the end of episode 10 just felt so random and out of place. All of a sudden, Xu Yan points out all of these problems she has with QXC and Nan Jia, when all they’ve ever done is pamper her. Also, you can’t blame QXC for dating Lin Rui even if Jing Jing liked him first, and not to mention that QXC wasn’t even aware. QXC might not have even chosen to date Lin Rui if she had known. But it happens all the time between friends where your friend might date someone you like. All’s fair in love and war, and there’s no first come first serve rule when it comes to dating.

Jing Jing - She becomes more complex as you learn more about her. She puts her friends first and is fiercely supportive and protective of them. We get a glimpse of how far she’s willing to go for them she pulls a butcher knife from the kitchen and points it at QXC’s debt collectors in the first episode. Her friends see her as being really open, expressive, and bubbly. She’s the first one they each go to whenever they need help with a problem or want to show off an achievement. But in reality, she’s really secretive. She hides her feelings to keep her friends happy, and when they slowly uncover her secrets, she becomes less and less recognizable to them, as though she’s been living a double life all along. 

At the end of episode 10, Jing Jing is described as the “hole in the tree” that everyone goes to to share their secrets, but they forget that she’s also a person with her own secrets to share, and she’s not just a tree hole to serve others. Can we blame the friends for not paying enough attention to Jing Jing and only using her for emotional support? Yes and no. It’s complicated. We should always do more to try to care for others and to be more attentive to them, but at the same time, it’s impossible to completely know a person. I purposely hide parts of my life from my friends because I don’t want them worrying or judging or commenting. So I would never expect them to be able to figure it out, and neither do I want them to figure it out. I think it’s interesting that the drama is exploring the friends’ self-imposed guilt, but I don’t agree that Xu Yan should be the one to point it out them and to be Jing Jing’s spokesperson. Xu Yan positions herself as Jing Jing’s heroic and righteous advocator, when really Xu Yan is the most problematic person out of the three remaining friends. 

Also, after seeing how the friends interact, they don’t feel narcissistic. Yes, they each readily vent about their problems to each other, but they also ask about the other person. It’s not one-sided. Xu Yan talks about her problems with her boyfriend, but she also asks and cares about what’s happening in QXC’s life and vice versa. Nan Jia is more mature and is busy with her business, but she always takes the time and effort to help her friends. All of their conversations are reciprocal and they are genuinely interested in each other’s lives. So, I don’t think they have a major communication problem or that they don’t care or that they’re ignorant. Which again, makes Xu Yan’s accusations in episode 10 feel even more unfair. 

Ji Nan Jia - Jing Jing’s cousin and also the oldest of the three girls (about a decade older). Sassy, witty, unapologetic, confident. She’s who you’d think of when you imagine a successful, independent, career-driven woman. She’s extremely annoyed by her mother’s nagging to get married. But she herself is trying to figure out whether she actually wants to find someone to settle down with or if she just wants to beat her biological clock and have children while she still can. She’s pursued by Ou Yang, ten years her junior, and he’s absolutely enamoured with her. He seems to be unconditionally in love with her, which is what I meant when I said that the male leads in this drama seem too perfect and idealistic. But I like Ou Yang though. He’s adorable. 

Qiao Xi Chen - The main character of the four main characters. Like Nan Jia, she’s also quite sassy. In some ways, she’s like a younger version of Nan Jia. QXC is also very career driven and competitive. She’s confident and believes in her abilities, but she also gets easily overwhelmed and emotional (like when her stress and nervousness prevented her from being able to give her proposal presentation and she ran out of the room. I’ve definitely felt that way before my committee meetings). QXC is a character you can self-insert as because she represents the everyday employee who struggles with the long commute to work and tries to stand out and make a name for herself in the company. QXC is also extremely paranoid, which is understandable when you’re a woman living alone in the city. I know what it’s like to have to briskly walk home late at night and constantly having to look over your shoulder to make sure no one’s following you, or having to check your hotel room before you change, or having to make it seem like you’re not the only one living in your apartment. QXC is smart, logical, helps people when she can, but is also reasonably selfish when she needs to protect herself, like when her co-workers try to take advantage of her or throw her under the bus. She’s a character everyone can relate to.

She and Jian Yi Fan also make such a cute pairing. I love all their interactions. I love how Jian Yi Fan can’t help but smile when he’s with her, but he tries hard to clamp it down. I love how QXC is aware of her own attraction and easily admits to to Xu Yan that she does have feelings for him instead of beating around the bush. And I especially love the awkward but adorable confession scene in episode 8. Such great banter and play on words (”你是什麼意思” “沒意思” “你對我是不是有意思?”). The drama did a great job of depicting the frustration of trying to guess whether someone likes you when they seem to be sending mixed signals. A lot of dramas that don’t focus on romance seem to do a better job of showing romance than idol dramas that focus on nothing but romance. I grew up with TVB dramas, and in most of them, romance is usually secondary to the main plot, but I always loved the romances in those dramas.

Like Ou Yang, JYF is such an idealistic love interest. He’s so supportive of and attentive to QXC. I haven’t watched too many slice of life dramas, but To Dear Myself and My Best Friend’s Story both had flawed (and sometimes even irredeemable) male love interests. This drama’s rose-coloured glasses definitely reduces the amount of performative angst, but it also makes the drama a little less realistic. The men in Jing Jing’s life aren’t villainized either even when you expected them to be sinister. I think the most antagonistic character is Lin Rui, but even he’s made to be sympathetic. In fact, nearly all the characters in the drama are sympathetic characters because many of the choices they made were forced because of the situation they found themselves in, and what they did was an act of self-preservation. And so, you can’t hate them or blame them. 

Acting and Dialogue

I mean, what’s there to say? The acting and dialogue just sucks you right in. I love it so much. The characters are so animated and charming because of how well the actors delivered their lines. I’m not a mandarin speaker (I’m a cantonese speaker but learned mandarin afterwards), but even I was able to notice the colloquialism and slangs and idiosyncratic ticks in speech that made the dialogue feel so real and alive. The actors had great comedic timing, and when they cried, you could feel how vulnerable they are. 

Lastly, I also like the little “life lessons” they include at the end of the drama where there’d be a voiceover by one of the actresses and they’d muse about life. One of my favourite musings when when they talked about what it means to have a sense of security. For some people, having a sense of security is about having a certain amount of money in your bank account, or having someone waiting for you to come home, but a sense of security isn’t something tangible or physical that you can achieve or possess. It’s a belief. It’s a belief that you’re able to face any problem and that life will go on. It’s a belief that the one that you love will be faithful and supportive. It’s a type of belief that allows you to be confident to face uncertainty. And thus, a sense of security is something that only you can give yourself. I really like that little food for thought because it’s a great reminder to be self-dependent and to not rely on external gratification. Que sera sera. What will be will be. Don’t get too hung over on failure and don’t let stress dominate your life. 

Note: Watching this at the same time as You Are My Glory is extremely humbling. YAMG is an idol drama, and so they make the romance look so easy. Heck, idol dramas make being a protagonist easy. The protagonist is destined to stand out from the crowd. It’s easy to be noticed. It’s easy to cause a change in the status quo. But ROTP is a reminder that we’re all practically nobodies in the big city. It feels impossible to make an impression when there are millions of other people living almost the same life as you are. There’s nothing special about you, and it’s hard to find meaning and purpose. Obviously, the drama shows that even when it feels like you’re trying to swim upstream in a big city, we each have a life worth living. We may feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to our friends and family, we’re their world and they’re ours. I think it was Camus who said that we should find meaning in the face of absurdity. Live in spite of how absurd and meaningless things feels. Anyway, this drama gives you a lot to think about, even though I don’t really like the melodrama they’ve recently added to drag the plot (*cough cough* that explosive argument scene at the end of episode 10 that I keep ranting about). You’d think that a 12-episode drama wouldn’t have filler, and yet here we are. 

[sinsbymanka]

Rubatosis from fun word prompt for any Anders-centric ship of your choosing?

Hello! For the @dadrunkwriting challenge. I wanted to do a little bit more for this but I’m trying to stay short. I may come back and add to it. 

Rubatosis: The Unsettling Awareness of Your Own Heartbeat

Pairing: Anders & Merrill 

Rated: M to be safe 

CW: Blood Magic 

Two weeks passed since they left Kirkwall, and Anders still hadn’t gotten used to Merrill’s neverending chatter. 

Maybe it was because he, for the first time, found himself alone with the woman. There was no Hawke to redirect her inane questions to, no Varric to engage her in friendly banter. It was just two of them and Anders has never felt less talkative in his life. In fact, he could use some good, proper silence to plan. To think. To try and come to terms with his new life. 

“What do you think that cloud looks like?” Merrill asked. 

Anders looked up at the blue sky and the white, puffy clouds drifting lazily across it. He didn’t scream. Barely. 

“Hawke’s drooling mabari,” he answered sarcastically. “And a big, juicy steak.” 

“Really?” Merrill looked over her slim shoulder, eyes wide. “I thought it looked like a fennec myself.” 

She turned that bright gaze back to the sky and squinted into the clouds. “I suppose I could see the steak, though.” 

Anders barely repressed a hysterical laugh. How had he ended up trekking across the countryside with Merrill of all people? 

Easy question. He blew up the Chantry, and everyone that was unlucky enough to be in it, before Hawke sent him packing just before Templar reinforcements showed up. Anders was a fugitive now, and he couldn’t afford to be picky when Merrill was sent alongside him to help him get as far from Kirkwall as he could. One companion was about as good as any other. 

“I really don’t see the mabari at all. Are we looking at the same cloud?” Merrill asked. 

Maybe the Templars would have been preferable. 

Before he could summon the proper retort about Merrill and her ridiculous games, non stop talking, or any of the other things that had done nothing but annoy him since their escape from Kirkwall, he heard the clatter of hooves on the dirt road behind him. 

Merrill froze and Anders followed her lead. They both looked over their shoulders at the sound of thundering hooves just in time to hear the accompanying shouts of men and women. Angry men and women. 

“I knew that innkeeper was looking at us strangely,” Merrill murmured. 

Anders barely heard her over the roar of blood in his ears. The fear always came back like this, sudden and intense, causing his stomach to turn and bile to rise up his throat. The sound brought back memories, metal armor and stone walls too high to climb, a lake separating him from the world outside… 

“Run!” he yelled. 

Merrill didn’t need to be told twice. They both sprinted from the road just as the figures of men and horses came into view. Anders heard the triumphant shout as they were spotted, felt the sucking drain of their powers around him, the popping of his ears. 

“Duck!” 

Merrill hit the ground just in time as the smite flew over their heads. She scrambled up in a moment, staff in hand. Her eyes flashed, deadly and sharp as the blade at her hip. She hollered something in Elvhen as Anders shoved himself up off the ground before it burst into a tangled forest of thorns. 

Then her fingers closed around his arm and she pulled him onwards into the cover of the trees. He twisted around as a male scream pierced the air just in time to see a templar dragged to the dirt in his shiny armor. 

That meant he wasn’t looking forward when Merrill dragged him right into a low-hanging branch. It whacked against his head with a worryingly hollow hunk that almost drove a laugh from his lips. 

Irving always said his head was empty. 

“Ooops!” Merrill chirped. “Sorry! Humans are just so tall.” 

“I’ll be a lot shorter if you take my head off,” he huffed breathlessly as she dragged him onwards. Despite his height advantage, he very much felt like he needed to keep up with her as they raced into the forest. 

Branches hit unprotected skin with the same sharp bite as a whip, snagged at his cloak and shirt. He barely had time to regret the mending he was going to have to do before Merrill bit off a sharp Elvhen oath and skidded to a stop. 

The forest floor in front of them abruptly ended in the jagged edge of a cliff. Below them, nothing but a rocky ravine. Anders stood on the edge of the precipice, Merrill’s hand still latched on his arm, and the sound of clanking coming closer. 

“There’s a way around.” She sounded so determined, so sure. “We need to-” 

Her eyes blazed green as the ivy climbing up the ledges, reminded him of the brightness of the soft grass beneath his feet on the days they left Kirwall behind. The freedom of being out from behind the city walls, the blue sky above. Knowing he’d never be back in the circle again. There was some peace in that, even if the alternative was death for being an abomination. 

In the grim tip of her pink lips, Anders could see the same grim reality on Merrill’s face. No matter what happened, she’d not be taken alive either. No use for a blood mage in a proper, respectable circle. 

“No.” His tongue darted out to lick at his lips and he felt Justice’s power crackle beneath his skin. “I think we’re trapped like nugs in a sewer.” 

“I do like nugs,” Merrill murmured, already sliding into a stance prepared to attack and defend. “And you do like sewers.”

“I do not!” he protested quickly. 

It was the last thing he said before the templars burst into view and they had no choice but to fight for their lives. A blast of energy from him sent them skittering backwards like iron-clad beetles into Merrill’s vines, but they kept coming like roaches ready to feed on their corpses. 

Sweat dripped down his forehead and burned in his eyes. Lightning sizzled, ozone around him crackled. Beside him he heard Merrill’s staff thunk against metal, heard the distant scream of another templar being toppled over the cliff behind them. 

Then a blade appeared in the corner of his vision and he lashed out with his staff, catching it in the enchanted wood. He grunted, forcing the other man back with all his wiry strength. 

He never saw the silence coming.

It hit him like a fist, dropped him like a punch in the stomach. His vision swam, his ears popped. Anders scrambled to reach for the last vestiges of his mana, but it was gone, gone. Justice, his magic, the noise of battle, everything was fading. 

Above him a blade shimmered in the afternoon sun, piercing the clouds. Anders’ heartbeat thudded in his throat, his fingertips. He counted the remaining beats, wondered how long it would take to count the very last one. 

Would he even feel the very last one?

A shrill scream. Then something sizzling. The smell of iron and the splash of something warm against his face. 

Then screams. So many screams. His heart thudded uncomfortably and he looked around as men began to drop. They clawed at their eyes and began to utter prayers to Andraste, the Maker, anyone to save them. But their Maker went silent long ago and there’s nobody to save them from the blood bubbling over their lips. 

A blood mage, after all, can’t be silenced. Maybe that’s the real reason the templars killed them on sight. 

Merrill’s hand dug into his shoulder, pulling a fistful of feathers from his coat. “Anders! Anders get up!” 

He staggered to his feet and reached blindly for Merrill’s hand. Their fingers twisted together and she pulled him upwards. He caught sight of blood dripping down her pale skin, the bright fury of her gaze. 

And then they ran. 

xx

It took him far too long to realize there was too much blood. It slid down to where their fingers were entwined, dripped onto the ground. Merrill started to weave and stagger before she slumped against him. 

Only then did he notice the horrific gash in her thigh, through the thin leggings she wore. He caught her in his arms and held her to his chest as her eyes fluttered closed over her pale cheeks, vallaslin stark on her cheekbones. 

“Oh don’t you dare,” Anders rasped, slowly lowering her to the ground. “I swear on Andraste’s dirtiest knickers, if you make me go tell Hawke I got you killed…” 

“It… it’s not so bad,” Merrill insisted, a bold statement considering the sheer amount of blood soaking her clothes. Anders tried to summon mana to his fingertips, only to come up heart wrenchingly short. 

He had nothing. Nothing. And Merrill… Merrill needed healing. Merrill needed healing or else…

“Anders-” she whispered. 

He tugged his cloak from his shoulders. “Where’s your knife?” 

“Anders, it’s okay. Hardly hurts at all.” 

“That’s cause you’re going into shock.” He pried her blade from her hand and sliced a long strip from his cloak. “You’re not stupid enough to cut into your own artery are you?” 

“Templar,” she murmured quietly. 

A templar blade to her unguarded leg, probably at the same time he got hit with the silence. And yet she used that blood to bring them all to their knees. Anders didn’t know whether he really disapproved. 

Merrill’s eyes shut, her chest rose and fell shallowly. He quickly tied the makeshift tourniquet around her thigh, watching her face. “Merrill! Merrill, you gotta stay with me. Talk to me.” 

They fluttered open one last time, fixed on the clouds above them. A small, soft smile graced her lips just before unconsciousness claimed her. 

Anders thought he knew all the iterations of silence, the way it settled in your bones and drove you slowly insane. The way it haunted you, the way it comforted you. But he had never heard silence like this before. Silence so pristine he heard his own heart begin to fracture as his fingers flew to try and staunch the bleeding that continued with each faint beat of Merrill’s own. 

If she survived, he would never complain about her talking ever again.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 13

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual content (18+)

A/N:  i should make it a game out of finding musical references in my chapters. hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

   - Well, if it’s any worth .. I don’t think half the names I’ve heard given to you do actually have any truth to them.  

She had the softest look in her face and for the first time Sebastian couldn’t pin point if it was because she was being truly honest or if the sleepless nights had started to weight on her complexion. Nevertheless, there was no wavering in her voice, no shadow of a doubt, no fear, no nothing. She was just there looking at him with the same innocence she looked at everything in life. He thought that no matter what he’d done in his youth, in his childhood or early adult years, he must’ve done something good for she was standing next to him either she should or shouldn’t. 

    - C’mon ... - he stepped off the chair, softly wrapping his hand around hers before taking off to the lift, grabbing an umbrella on his way in. Y/N starred at him in confusion as he pressed one of the various buttons on the lift’s panels. Nevertheless, she remained quiet, softly examining every single detail of his face from his eyes to the stubble that had grown from the last time she had seen him. Lowering her gaze, she inspected her his hand wrapped around hers which brought another surge of heat to her face leading to her looking at any other thing rather than that.

The lift stopped and opened in what looked like the terrace. Sebastian was the first to step off, opening the umbrella as she stepped off the lift and onto the rainy night. Holding her closer to his side, he walked all the way to the terrace’s railing which gave a breath taking view of the Upper East Side’s night sky with all its bright lights. 

   - It is not Paris but I thought you might enjoy it. - he looked down at her but she had her eyes on the city landscape and how beautiful it looked when it was being rained upon. 

   - It’s beautiful, Seb ... - her eyes widened as her mouth decided to speak without going through her brain first. - I mean Mr. Stan, Sebastian. You should probably go to bed, I mean, it’s been a long day. 

   - I’ll go to bed if you come with me. - Sebastian smirked at Y/N who had to blink a few times to wonder if she had heard it correctly. Oh no, absolutely not. Gwen would have her head on a stick and even if she didn’t Y/N had absolutely no idea how to go about and do bed business. - Not like that, Y/N. 

   - Well, I ... I have to go to bed because ... because of Gwen.

   - Because of Gwen? - he furrowed his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as she rushed over to the lift pressing the button with as much might as she could. Sighing, he walked to the lift that had quickly arrived. - Alright, because of Gwen. 

  - She might need my help, Sebastian.

  - I’m sure she’ll need help hiding the hickeys made by my staff. - Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning around to look at him. - You surely know she’s not very discreet?

  - You can’t tell her that you know, she’ll think I told you and she’ll be mad at me.

    - I don’t really care about who Gwen brings into her bed. Besides, I would never get you in trouble ... - he lightly picked her chin staring at her beautiful yet worried eyes at the thought he would tell Gwen he knew about her affairs. Y/N bite her bottom lip, lashes fluttering before he leaned down to kiss her. She would like to say she was caught off guard but she really wasn’t as her hands lightly gripped onto his unruly brown locks. 

They continued to kiss as if they were protagonists of a Jane Austen novels who constantly had to remain apart fear of being discovered by society. In some sense, they sort of were and Y/N was very conscious over the fact that they were kissing in the lift that could open at any second. It wasn’t until he bit her plump bottom lip that she was taken from her dazed pink romantic daydreaming state. The unfamiliar sensation led her to let out a small high pitched moan which she hoped wouldn’t have been recognised by the mob boss. Unfortunately to her, it was very much heard and he started to move his lips from hers to her chin, jaw and then neck, igniting the fire even more. She could feel his lips sucking on her collarbones which would for sure leave a few marks but Y/N was much too lost on how well it felt to worry about that. 

   - Seb ... Sebastian. - she choked another moan from coming through. What was she doing? This man was about to be married to her friend and she was very close to hitting second base with him. However, her self control seemed to want to disappear whenever his lips kissed her very soft skin or whenever he bite softly into her skin. 

   - Well, angel, I said I’d never get you in trouble. - the lift dinged and he stepped away from her, smirking at her tousled appearance and plump lips before taking off to the stairs and up to this bedroom leaving Y/N to regain her breathe against the wall of the lift.

How dare him?! Her most primitive self asked, livid that he had left her in such state that she didn’t know if to follow him into his bedroom or kick the wall of the lift. However, her more careful and let’s face it logical side was telling her to go to her bedroom and lock her door before she could do anything wrong. 

Without much thought and attention to her more primitive self, she climbed up the stairs and rushed into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. It wasn’t like Sebastian was gonna barge into her bedroom and take her right then and there. Not that she would mind it. However, she knew that right now she had no self control. Whenever that man stared at her or did anything, her self-control seemed to perish and suddenly she was this loose moral woman okay with an extra marital affair. Not that he was married. 

After pacing around in her bedroom for what felt like a full hour, trying to tire herself out of the high he had put her in, she eventually stripped off her clothing before sliding under her very comfortable duvet, closing her eyes and hoping her brain would be kind enough not to dwell on the lift events during her dreams.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rather heated up, heart hammering into his chest as he concentrated on that beautiful memory of the very polished, very repressed Y/N in that sinful appearance. God, he knew he couldn’t just do things the way he would do them if she was literally anyone else. It wasn’t like Sebastian believed Gwen would harm Y/N, god no. That woman had a terrible aim and talked more than acted, however, he could see Mr. Forrest clearly having an issue with “the most loyal employee” having an affair with his daughter’s fiancé. Not that he cared about what Mr. Forrest thought but he wanted Y/N safe. She was the last truly kind person in this business he knew and he would protect her with his life. No, with Y/N he had to carefully tip toe and curb his enthusiasm and desires. 

Nevertheless, he’s hot, he’s on fire. He felt as if the hottest day of the summer was nothing compared to how flustered and flush he was feeling right now. There was no question as to him having thought and even dreaming about the handmaid in less than polite scenarios, certainly normally on her knees being delightfully submissive to him. However, he had never gotten that close to the actual dreams that haunted him at night constantly awaking him with something to deal with.

Too consumed with his desires, he turned on the TV hoping it would daze him to dreamland which it eventually did. 

Hours later, Y/N was the first to awake up, groaning at the sunbeams that coursed through her bedroom and hit her face. It was light enough that she couldn’t sleep so with a spring in her step, she jumped off her bed and walked to the bathroom. Normally she would’ve just entered the shower with little to no thought but this morning she stopped by the mirror, noticing the hickeys that were very prominent on her neck and collarbones. She felt that familiar heat creep up to her face, moving slightly so she could look at the marks better. Her fingers softly traced the bruises, a slight curious smile forming on her face. 

This curiosity was quickly brought down as she remembered who had caused them. Sebastian. Sebastian Stan as in the man promised to the woman she had sworn her life to, or at least had lived her life to so far. Pushing that thought away from her head, she entered the shower, turning the water on. She rubbed the water off her face, her mind going back to when she was with him, the feeling of his lips tracing her collarbones and neck still ghosting on her skin and that newly found heat returned to her.

Mindlessly, she brought the shower head to her body, letting the water cascade down her back and torso until she lowered it to her lower part, gasping slightly as the medium pressured warm water hit her clitoris. She gasped, leaning against the wet tiles of the bathroom wall, as the water hit her pleasure spot bringing the new and exciting sensations up to a new height. Her head slightly slide down the wall as she brought the shower head closer. The emotions would’ve reached a catharsis had it not been for someone knocking on her bedroom door. Afraid and not expecting the knock, she dropped the shower head out of surprise and turned the tap off.

Wrapping herself in one of the monogramed fluffy white towels that existed in every single bathroom in the penthouse, she paced to the door, partially opening it to see Sebastian’s cerulean eyes staring directly at her. 

    - Good morning, angel. - his eyes lowered to his initials on her white towel. This made his ego grow, there she was wearing his own initials on a towel covering her nude body. - Don’t you look ravishing?

   - Shush ... - her eyes widened as she looked around the hall. - What if Gwen heard that?

   - I’m gonna forbid you to mention her name whenever we speak, angel.

   - You’re the most impossible boy. - she stabbed his chest with her ring finger, holding the towel up with her other hand. 

   - Don’t be mad at me, angel. - he placed his hands on her waist, successfully entering her room and closing the door behind him with his foot. - I couldn’t do anything else with you in a lift, you deserve better. 

   - There is no anything between us. You’re engaged. 

   - Don’t you wanna kiss me? - he caged her between the wall and him, hands resting on both side of her head. - Be honest. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld​ @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan

[transmasc-slykinnie]

Part 2 of my expirence with jazz

How I left and why

I'm sorry how delayed this has been my mental health has been in the gutter and my system was a mess for awhile and I'm not doing that great still but it's bearable now

So ever since November me and jazz were on and off with her leaving me when I had covid and on new years with me begging for her to stay cause it felt like I genuinely didn't have anything else in my life and needed her. All this was on tumblr and I don't have those screenshots anymore so fhakdgw

Next time we encountered wasn't really by my plan but I blame myself, because I have been holding back my system and trying to it caused everyone to breakdown and finally snap and one of my new alters that had formed snapped at her on January 30th/my birthday and called her out how she had groomed me (this alter will be unamed 1 because I still don't know much about them and we keep our distance and 2 they wish to not be a part of this) and this again was done on tumblr but I don't have access to those screenshots or account, jazz kept apologizing over and over and that day my headmate/alter called her out she apologized over and over and asked something like "do you need me to talk to Brutus again?" I don't remember exactly and I apologize, a lot of this stuff is hazy and I tried to repress /g

I don't feel too comfortable sharing what went down in my headspace and my system at least right now so I'll be skipping those parts, sorry

A couple days later I checked my tumblr to see my dms blown up with jazz apologizing and talking about how she'll kill herself and at the time I was still attached to her so reading back on what happened I was just horrified what went down and I apologized for my system rightfully lashing out at her and everything just so she wouldn't feel bad or couldn't blame herself or something, I just wanted her to be happy cause again at the time I loved her/p

She let me stay for a couple days because I wanted to make sure she was alright and I was under the impression she was going to want to be friends again because she let me nuture her back to health and didn't block me etc but when I kept talking about it and saying how I changed (which I did because I had to learn the hard way how manipulative and abusive jazz is) and she said no which lead me to be confused because if she didn't want to be my friend why again was she using me for her and why was I once again there at her time of need but she couldn't do this one thing for me, at the time I thought well maybe if we're friends I'll get over her gr**ming me and I can still be her friend, I was really just going through it and the way jazz had changed my mindset was unhealthy leading me to not care about myself etc etc. There was a lot of back in fourth of "I changed I can help you lets be friends again" and "no we can't" and even some s*icide attempts and manipulation on my part which I regret sincerely and everyday I strive to never be like that or do that again. When finally she agreed to be friends again until I got better in February or something like that. I'll make a follow up to this because how long this post already is I'm sorry if anything was dragged out or too short I kinda just wrote everything down as fast as I could so I didn't have to think about it and thought this part would be the easiest to get out since I don't have to really dig for screenshots but just give context and story behind the scenes

[artificialqueens]

Cause After All This Time, I'm Still Into You (Taywhora) - Winter

a/n: it’s been a lil while but i decided to start posting here again, i put this up on ao3 and my blog but i figure i’d cross post for the anons i saw wanting taywhora, hope y'all enjoy <3

thanks to pink-grapefruit-cafe for betaing :)

Before they were living together, A’whora thought Tayce to be flawless. Literally, where were the flaws? It wasn’t that she had any issues, far from it, but she had one vulnerability and she rarely showed it.

She was terrified of bugs. More specifically, spiders but any insect around her and A’whora could see the sense of unease in her eyes.

It took a screaming Tayce bolting into her room to take her eyes off her sewing machine. The noise made her jump, messing up a stitch in the action. Her roommate stared at her, eyes wide with a mix of fear and shock.

“A’whora! I went to get in the shower but there’s a spider in there, can you please get rid of it.”

A’whora stared back blankly, shrugging before returning her attention to her work. As much as she wanted to help Tayce at any opportunity, her work held most of her attention at this time of day.

“Don’t ignore me, lass! Please, Aurora.” The pleading tone in her voice caught her off guard. A’whora frowned, she wasn’t keen on bugs but she could throw a shoe at a spider if it pleased Tayce. It helped that she was utterly adorable, nervously staying behind her as they walked to the bathroom to get rid of it.

“Fucking hell! It’s huge.” A’whora recoiled, she’d expected something stupid like a daddy -ong-legs but this spider was around the size of her hand. Staring it down made her feel nervous but the terrified Tayce muttering words of encouragement made her remembered what she was doing this for.

She held the shoe in her hand, whacking the creature with all the pent-up fury she had from years of repressed lesbianism. She hit it repeatedly for good measure, glancing over at Tayce to gauge her reaction before erupting in giggles at the shock on her face.

“Fuck, you look like you need therapy.”

“Don’t we all?”

A’whora glanced back at the mangled corpse of the bug, she cleared it up with some toilet roll to her disgust. Picking pieces of dead spider wasn’t her ideal Thursday afternoon activity but seeing the gratefulness of Tayce’s face made it worth it.

“Oh, you’re such a doll. Thanks ‘Rory you’re a lifesaver.” With the affectionate nickname, Tayce pressed her lips to A’whora’s cheek before heading off to prepare for her shower.

Oh. She enjoyed that a little too much.

—

Tayce was a private person by nature. She was fine with being expressive, it was something she couldn’t control. But she didn’t let people push past her boundaries. It had worked for a long time until A’whora came around and melted everything with a flutter of her lashes.

She’d never admit it, and risk boosting such an ego, but Tayce’s weakness was the rude blonde she lived with. Something about her felt comfortable. She was home, someone Tayce never felt a need to fake things around. If she wasn’t into a conversation or just wanted to be alone, A’whora understood. Sometimes she got lonely, it was something that went unspoken for months. Just the occasional day where Tayce was all over A’whora much to the latters annoyance.

For her part, A’whora never pushed her away. She’d whine a bit about not being able to do her work before returning the attention and trying to keep down a smile when Tayce would lay her head on her shoulder, quietly making her desires known before wrapping her arms around her waist to pull her into a long embrace.

You know. Normal friend stuff.

It happened to be one of those days, Tayce could feel herself going too far into her head. She needed someone next to her to take those thoughts away, but A’whora had been complaining about how busy she was for days. Tayce had barely seen her, and it hurt to think that she would shake her off if she went to find her.

She tried to reassure herself, this was ridiculous. She wasn’t dependent on her roommate. She had a life and friends, but something about being with A’whora soothed her to her core. The internal debate kept on, though her feet decided for her as Tayce realised she was stood outside the door of A’whora’s sewing room

She opened the door to see her roommate hunched over her sewing machine, brows furrowed as she concentrated hard on constructing the outfit. The creek of the door caught her attention, her eyes flying to Tayce stood in the doorway.

“You alright there lass?” A’whora looked the woman in front of her up and down. Something felt different but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Tayce walked over silently, perching her head on A’whora’s shoulder as her arms wrapped around her waist. They sat there, soundlessly embracing without much care for the world. A’whora was vaguely aware of the work in front of her but the warmth that Tayce radiated was intoxicating. She could never fight being held by her arms.

“Is today one of those days where you need attention?” Tayce let out a hum of agreement, not quite able to find the words to describe her feelings. A’whora understood enough, lightly pulling at her wrist and leading them to the couch. Her instinct was to reach for a comfort snack, grabbing the jar they kept of Percy Pigs for things like this.

Though she tried to ignore the growing feelings, she wasn’t against something happening between them.

That was an understatement, her heart stammered when A’whora turned to her with a small smile and shining eyes. The smaller girl had a resting bitch face, her natural state was sourer than most people could handle but Tayce never found her looking like that unless she was annoyed. When they were alone she was a different person, so much more sweet and loving than anyone else could know.

She envied how easily A’whora opened up to her, it took some time but she’d fully let Tayce in within a few months of living together. It’d been almost a year and a half and that was still something the brunette struggled with. She wanted to tell A’whora everything, about the loneliness and the way she felt unfulfilled despite her cool demeanour.

“Rory, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, you can tell me, anything babe.”

“You’re the only person who doesn’t make me feel alone.“ Tayce tried not to show hesitation in speaking her feelings, instead, leaning her head into A’whora’s shoulder. The warmth of her roommate was enough to distract from most things going on in her head. Though she loved the affection, A’whora realised it was a defence mechanism. If she couldn’t see a reaction then she wouldn’t have to deal with it. That was an interesting way to think but she wasn’t really in a position to judge.

“Tayce, if you ever feel alone, I’m here alright? We get each other better than anyone else. I’d never let someone I genuinely love feel like shit if I could help.”

Tayce let out a muffled sigh, moving her head to still lean into the blonde’s shoulder but be able to speak clearly.

“Someone you genuinely love huh?” Despite clearly being meant as a quip, Tayce’s voice was far too fond, dripping with so much affection it made A’whora’s heart swell. She was thankful Tayce couldn’t see her reaction from where her head was, she wouldn’t live down the blush that took over her face from the comment.

“I love you too, don’t think too hard about it. I can feel you blushing.” Tayce laughed, poking her in the ribs to a delightful giggle from the smaller girl.

It amused her how they’d occasionally get like this, separate from the world stuck in the bliss of each other and yet not wanting to speak a word of their actual feelings. It was painfully obvious there was something between them. Lawrence loved to comment on the sexual tension but Tayce thought it ran deeper than that. There was so much comfort in their relationship, it didn’t make sense to most people.

From how flustered she got, A’whora had to have some kind of feelings for her. Tayce never wanted to pry, she liked where they were at.

Or she was scared to lose it and didn’t want to risk it on the off chance she read it all wrong.

A’whora saw the thoughtful look on Tayce’s face and wanted nothing more than to kiss it off. The timing felt wrong, another day they may have closed the gap but the emotions were too raw. It felt like she would take advantage of her roommate finally letting her feelings out.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. It was late by the time A’whora realised Tayce had fallen asleep, arms still tightly holding her. Moving would be cruel, seeing the taller woman so peaceful was rare. She enjoyed the warmth that Tayce always emitted, it always put her in a near euphoric, calm state. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep with her, content to cuddle like this for a long time.

—

Tayce felt groggy, noting where she was situated on the couch with A’whora in her arms before anything else. She realised they must have fallen asleep at some point, cuddled together in something heart-achingly domestic.

She grabbed her phone, realising it was almost 3 am and that her body would kill if she slept the night on a couch that was too small for her. It could just about fit A’whora when she reclined on it but Tayce’s feet always dangled over the edge uncomfortably.

She lightly tapped A’whora, who let out a sleepy murmur before placing her head back onto Tayce’s chest.

“Get up A’whora, we need to go to bed.”

The smaller girl hummed, finally sitting up. The sight of her rubbing her sleepy eyes was enough to make Tayce want to squeal. Maybe it was the tiredness but she just wanted to hold A’whora close to her until the end of time and hear her let out her little sleepy noises and cuddle into her chest.

The blonde stood up, about to walk to her room before Tayce tugged at her hand.

“No, with me.” Her words came out softer than she meant, her voice tender and tired. A’whora just nodded, letting Tayce lead them to her room and nestle into her bed.

The smaller girl poked her leg with a small laugh, eyes lighting up in amusement at the jeans still on her.

“Are you really going to sleep in jeans?” It took Tayce that long to realise she still had denim clung to her legs. The fatigue had gotten to her, brain too fuzzy to process it. Begrudgingly she got up, throwing some pajamas on, glad the darkness masked her body. She threw a shirt and short A’whora, muttering that she should get changed too.

The darkness wasn’t only hiding Tayce, her roommate held the clothes, sleepily blinking at them before she realised what was happening. She felt grateful that the blush on her face wasn’t visible, the feeling of Tayce’s clothes on her made A’whora’s heart tighten. Soft, little domestic moments that her roommate wouldn’t think about in a few minutes. They were what she cherished most.

The brunette made her way back to the bed, pulling the smaller girl into a tight hug before letting her head settle back onto her chest. She was slipping from consciousness but quietly hoped this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened. She’d like to sleep next to A’whora more often.

The morning came quicker than either would have liked, wanting nothing more than to stay cuddled up but not ready for the implications that came with that. Tayce woke up first, nestling herself back into the warmth of her bed after attempting to move only to find a sleeping A’whora curled into her.

The blonde didn’t wake up as gracefully, she stirred shortly after but bolted up at the realisation of what had happened. Tayce wanted to put her head back down and cuddle more but the blush that erupted on the other woman’s face told her all she needed to know.

“I asked you to, don’t start freaking out and apologising. It’s fine.”

A’whora shrugged, hiding her face in Tayce’s shoulder with a slight grumble. She wasn’t ready to deal with the day and gave in to the warmth the brunette provided.

They got up later, not thrilled to separate but knowing they needed to. The previous night left unspoken. Maybe that was better for now.

—

Though she was just as bad, Tayce found it hilarious how long A’whora took to get ready. It wasn’t because she took a long time doing everything. She just faffed around while getting ready and ended up taking an hour longer than she meant to.

The time wasn’t for nothing, A’whora finally came out of her room looking so beautiful it left Tayce speechless. Her outfit was nice, a black blazer and trousers. It wouldn’t be that amazing on anyone else but the way it fit around her curves made Tayce’s heart speed up. She looked hot, blonde hair in its natural wavy state that looked like it would be euphoric to run her hands through.

“Tayce? You’re awfully quiet there.”

“You look ethereal.”

A’whora looked taken aback by how sincere Tayce sounded. She would tell the smaller woman if something was off but seeing her speechless was something new. She must have done a damn good job.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, when aren’t you breathtaking though.”

“Little old me? Breathtaking? You’re too kind, Aurora.” Tayce played coy, batting her lashes with fake innocence as her roommate let out a soft laugh at the act. It was something she’d do all the time, but that never meant A’whora’s heart would stop fluttering every time she did it.

Taking another glance at her as they prepared to leave, Tayce wondered how she was going to get through a dinner with her notoriously teasing friends and A’whora looking like that. She could hear the remark Lawrence would make about their sexual tension, maybe a small comment from Tia about how, for her namesake, A’whora didn’t look like a whore. The usual fun things.

She’d make it through, somehow.

—

“Christ, Bims, I’ve never seen you so covered up.”

Tayce was greeted by the sight of a modest-looking Bimini sitting with a few of their other friends as she and A’whora made their way to the table. A modest outfit for them was just not having much skin out, though their legs were still out it was something different.

“Tayce, you look like a rich bitch who’s about to go kill her husband and run off with her new girlfriend. Speaking of the new girlfriend, hey A’whora.” Bimini shot back, the table erupting into laughter at the quip. Tayce glanced at the girl next to her, whose eyes had fallen to the floor trying to hide the blush quickly forming on her cheeks.

“Who me? That’s quite a high compliment. Though I wouldn’t trust this bitch to keep a secret like a murder plot when she can barely keep her mouth shut when someone wears something ugly.”

A’whora laughed at the comment, despite being unable to manage a reply. She huffed a bit, lightly jabbing Tayce with her elbow and praying it came across that she just didn’t care for the joke.

“Oh lord, we can’t go out for anything with these two without the sexual tension following them. How’s that been going for you ladies?” Lawrence interjected, getting another round of laughter from their friends.

“I’m just trying to look at this menu, you all are hounds, get your minds out of the gutter.”

“The only sexual tension Lawrence knows is watching Ellie with her Monster can,” A’whora paused, “and being jealous of the monster can.”

Tayce let out a howl of laughter that caught the attention of their table and the other people surrounding them. She didn’t care for the eyes on them. Her attention was on the blonde looking proud at her joke. There was something about the way A’whora would puff out her chest when she made someone laugh like that, she couldn’t take her eyes off her.

Ellie arrived soon after, utterly bewildered by the taken aback look on Lawrence’s face and the giggles coming from the rest of the table.

“What happened here?”

That was a hard question to answer. No one wanted to out Lawrence’s feelings, though there was nothing else to explain it. Bimini just shrugged, saying something about A’whora being surprisingly funny. Tayce didn’t pay them much attention, she felt a hand make its way onto her thigh. A’whora wasn’t looking at her but she could see the small smile creep its way onto her face as a hand came to rest on top of her own.

The night went pretty easy after that, jokes aplenty but no one paying too much attention to the way Tayce kept sneaking glances at A’whora or the way their hands hadn’t moved until they’d gotten their food and found their way back after.

Bimini had given her a curious look at some point, they clearly knew something but left it unspoken. Tayce didn’t know if she could handle another comment about them looking like a couple and the utterly flustered A’whora that would look to her to throw something back.

She’d have to get A’whora better at handling comments when she was flustered. It was cute how she lost the ability to speak if it was particularly bad, but the brunette hated to always be the one to deny things and keep the banter going.

—

Tayce felt light as A’whora leant against her, sat on a bench in the station waiting for the last train to bring them home. They’d both drunk a little too much, sober enough to walk and talk but minds fuzzy with the wine and a light fog of tiredness. The blonde had her head leant on her shoulder, trying to let her brain rest from attempting to stay social while progressively getting more drunk.

The wine did interesting things to her, it didn’t taste as bad as most alcohol though she still didn’t like it. Drinking enough left her floating, consciousness a little fuzzy but still attentive enough to navigate herself home. Her reaction times slowed, Tayce found this very amusing as she took a second to blink and realise she’d been tapped on the shoulder. It was cute to see the cogs whirring in her brain as things happened around her.

Tayce herself wasn’t near sober either. She could hold herself together better than A’whora but a much softer side of her came out with the wine they���d had with their meals. She wasn’t acting on it but seeing the fuzzy state of her roommate made her want to squeeze her into her arms and protect her from the world. A’whora was always cute but the curious glances she gave everything was enough to make anyone love her.

A’whora felt another poke on her shoulder, turning to see a laughing Tayce mimicking her confused expression before laughing harder.

“Bitch!” The smaller girl shoved her lightly, making Tayce fall into the arm of her chair mid laughter.

They progressively got a little more aggressive with their game. It started with Tayce pushing A'whora back, the latter scurrying off to avoid it before lightly shoving Tayce as she stood up to chase after her. Pushes were punctuated by uncontrolled giggles from the pair as they continued.

Tayce saw a chance to win, shoving A’whora into the wall behind them, leaving her pinned to it with Tayce in her face. She realised the implications of this but the pure look in A’whora’s eyes was enough to sway any doubt. She really was adorable.

Though it took a second to realise exactly where Tayce was and how close their faces were, A’whora moved her hand, running it through Tayce’s hair with a loving smile adorning her face. She leant into Tayce’s hand as it cupped her face, lightly inching their faces closer together until she could the warmth of her breath on her face. There was a slight smell of wine on Tayce’s breath but A’whora knew she had the same. It didn’t dissuade her as Tayce closed the gap, pressing their lips together in a kiss that had been a long time coming.

Things moved, they deepened the kiss, ignoring the world around them. The only thing that A’whora saw was Tayce, her beauty effortless and the loving side spilling out of her the longer they stayed that close.

Tayce jolted out of the kiss eventually, leaving a shocked A’whora frozen to her spot. Tayce grumbled something, whipping around to the train behind them and pulling A’whora in before she had time to blink.

The taller woman let out a sigh of relief as they managed to board just before the train left the station. She turned to the blonde to see her still staring at the door of the train, confused about how quickly everything had transpired.

Tayce pulled her to the seats on the train, sliding into the window seat to let A’whora lean on her. It was then she realised her hair had stayed soft and wavy, and finally listened to her heart and started running her hands through it. A giddy feeling built up as the smaller girl leant into it, such a soft smile on her face that Tayce just wanted to kiss her and get her to grin more and more.

So she did.

Tayce took her face up from its resting place on her shoulder to let them have another go at a long kiss without being interrupted by transport. A’whora leant into it, kissing Tayce back with her heart pounding in her chest.

They broke apart for breath, A’whora’s face in a smitten smile. Something in her eyes was the most tender thing Tayce had ever seen and it made her pull the girl into a tight hug.

“You’re so cute,” She mumbled into the top of A’whora’s head as she cuddled into Tayce.

They stayed entangled together until they had to get off, Tayce peppering A’whora with kisses as she smiled giddily and giggled at the rush of compliments Tayce would spout when they broke apart. It was messy and drunk but that made the feeling feel more sincere. It didn’t have to be perfect, to be kissing A’whora was enough for Tayce to feel like she was levitating.

A’whora was too distracted by the warmth of the taller woman to realise when they pulled into their stop. It took a light tug at her hand for them to get off, though A’whora wrapped her fingers around Tayce’s hand, refusing to let it go. They stayed hand in hand for the short walk home, the blonde was surprised she was walking fine but the cold evening air started to sober her enough to walk straight and navigate with Tayce rather than being pulled along.

Getting in was another matter, the door opened fine but the minute she walked through the door Tayce felt A’whora’s hand leave hers. She wanted to go tug on her hand once more, cuddling into each other in the warmth of her bed but something left her rooted to the floor, staring helplessly as her roommate walked into her room.

Or she would have, had she not noticed Tayce still stood in the doorway staring at her.

“Tayce? You just gonna stand there? At least make sure you take your makeup off.”

The sudden words made her jolt up, realising she was still fully dressed with a full face of makeup planning to faceplant into her bed. A’whora took the initiative to take the lead for once, leading the taller girl by hand into their bathroom and handing her some makeup wipes before getting to work on her face.

It proved to be a difficult task, Tayce leaning over to kiss her as she took it off and getting her lipstick on her cheek every time.

“Tayce! If you want to kiss me at least take your lipstick off first.”

“Oh so if I take it off I can kiss you as much as I want?”

“Yes just stop leaving lipstick on my face.”

Tayce turned to her with a sly grin, pressing her lips to her cheek once more but making sure to make a mess of it, placing softer kisses across her face with a giggle. The annoyance A’whora felt subsided with the quiet laughter that bubbled out of Tayce. She couldn’t be mad at anyone that cute.

Thankfully the brunette began to take off her makeup, focusing on that rather than pestering her roommate. It didn’t take long for the tables to turn, as A’whora turned to her after finishing with an unreadable expression.

“You’re so pretty. You’re so fucking pretty.” Her words sounded completely smitten, something Tayce was sober enough to notice but nowhere near brave enough to address.

“You think so? Like this? I wouldn’t call sitting in the bathroom tipsy with no makeup on my best moment” Tayce let out a soft hum, she felt pretty all of the time but of all the times to comment on it why now? Why while they were still tipsy and with her freshly taken off makeup, she didn’t feel particularly pretty, but the look in A’whora’s eyes said everything she needed to know.

“Yeah, I like your freckles,” A’whora said quietly, moving to place a soft kiss on Tayce’s cheek before making a daring dart for her lips.

It was different from before, they were both sober enough to know exactly what they were doing but neither wanted to stop it. Tayce wrapped her arms around A’whora’s shoulders to steady them as they deepened the kiss.

When they parted, A’whora let out a soft yawn, reminding Tayce of the time, and the fact they were both tired from everything. She picked up the smaller woman, carrying her over to her bed, throwing some pajamas at her, and cuddling into her when they both were changed out of their smart clothes.

Lying there with A’whora curled into her side was when she realised something. She’d avoided her feelings for this long, not reading into things. But being here with her felt so right. All the kisses and little compliments they’d thrown at each other over the night making them both feel warm and fuzzy inside.

She wanted this, to fall asleep next to the blonde and wake up to her, groggy with sleep and not wanting to get up just yet. She wanted them to stay in bed, cuddle up and maybe doze off and sleep more if the day allowed it.

She wanted A’whora. That was all Tayce needed.

The smaller girl hadn’t spoken a word since they cuddled up together, her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, she looked to be sleeping, so Tayce didn’t mind speaking her thoughts.

“I love you.”

A’whora didn’t respond at first, continuing to stay put in her spot in Tayce’s arm before she got a muffled reply.

“I love you too.”

—

Tayce felt her heart flutter at the sight before her when she awoke. A’whora was cuddled into her side, head laid on her chest with an arm flung over her stomach. Her leg followed suit, flopped over Tayce’s, locking her into a close position that she didn’t have the heart to disturb.

She wanted to soak in the warmth of the person cuddled with her but the sharp headache became more obvious the more she sat there. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to get pretty drunk on wine but it ended well enough. Her memories were fuzzy but she could make sense of it all. They’d kissed. A lot. Tayce wished she could feel the sensation sober but that carried too many implications for her hungover brain to handle.

There was one downside to sleeping next to A’whora, she was a light sleeper. Tayce knew the minute she tried to get up no matter how careful she was, the smaller woman would groan about it being too early and proceed to notice what had happened. She couldn’t find it in herself to deal with that right then and there but the throbbing in her head demanded her attention anyway.

Sliding her way out of A’whora’s grasp hurt. She wanted nothing more than to pull her in further, pepper her with soft kisses to wake her up, and stare at her adorable sleepy face.

Somehow Tayce had avoided waking her up, maybe the alcohol had taken a toll on her too. Whatever happened she’d complain about it soon enough, it would be for her own benefit if Tayce grabbed her a bottle of water with the painkillers she was getting.

A’whora started to wake up with Tayce out of the room. She felt like something was missing. Someone. Her tired mind couldn’t quite figure it out but the sound of someone walking into the room was enough to satisfy her, grabbing for the person as she sat on the bed.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Tayce murmured as A’whora leant over to go back to cuddling into her. She assumed the smaller girl was still asleep but the way she nuzzled into her chest and let out a muffled yawn.

“Rory?” Tayce felt her heart start to race. She was awake, she’d heard Tayce calling her cute and was making the conscious decision to stay cuddled into her.

Looks like she’d have to deal with this, no matter how prepared she was.

A’whora let out a hum of acknowledgement that Tayce felt vibrate into her chest. Her position was going to make any attempts at conversation a lot harder.

“Tayce? Cuddle me.” Finally letting out some words, the blonde curled up closer to her. Tayce felt her heart skip a beat as it came out as a muffled whine. Not a question, not the demand she might have meant it as, a quiet question that pulled at her heart that was followed with a sleepy sigh that melted it.

“I will, but you need to take these pain killers for me, this hangover will kill you when you wake up properly.”

Tayce laughed at the face A’whora pulled as she begrudgingly moved from her position to take them. She grumbled something incoherent before looking at Tayce with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

She leant over, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before going back to her place on Tayce’s chest.

A’whora kissed her like it was nothing. Was it something? Was Tayce overthinking it? Absolutely, but that wasn’t the point.

A’whora kissed her. Her roommate. The adorable little blonde was cuddled into her, having kissed her cheek like they were dating. It was too perfect, so domestic it was all she ever needed.

It only took a few more minutes for a soft grunt to come from her chest. A slight pout formed on A’whora’s lips and she muttered about a headache and lifted herself from the comfort of Tayce’s chest.

“Hey, Tayce?”

The brunette turned her attention at the call of her name, staring at A’whora who sat there silently. She stared back for some time before doing something a lot more daring than Tayce ever thought her capable of.

She kissed her again, this time on the lips. Tayce deepened it, one arm falling around A’whora’s waist while the other fell through her soft hair, keeping her close.

Her theory was right. Sober kisses were just as incredible as the drunk ones. The perk was that she’d remember this one.

“Good to know you like that, helpful information.” A’whora giggled, she delighted in the way Tayce’s eyes widened as she pressed another light kiss to her cheek. Her head felt fuzzy, whether that was from the hangover, the tiredness, or Tayce she couldn’t quite tell.

“You hound, You’re going to be chasing me for kisses every hour of every day now I just know it.” Tayce felt lightheaded at the affections. Something about the ease of it all made her stomach go fluttery with feelings she wouldn’t be too quick to disclose.

“That’s your fault for being so kissable. Not my fault.”

The cheek of her roommate was amusing, the brunette held back a snicker. She wanted to laugh it off, the flirting was fairly common between them. The kisses threw her. She just wanted to take a second, process everything that was happening before continuing but a certain blonde loved to keep her on her toes.

“You’re so dumb.”

Tayce could hear the tenderness in her tone, painfully loving and sappy. It would disgust her if she saw it in anyone else, that level of lovey was not something she wanted to hear. But it was A’whora. The little idiot who could brighten her day with a smile, the one who she bounced off of better than anyone. The person she would trust with her life. She couldn’t stop the way her heart pounded at the littlest affections between them.

So why should she?

“Cool it, lass, I know you love me.”

“Maybe so, wouldn’t you like that”

“Yeah. I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Aurora…” Tayce melted at the hopeful eyes staring at her. They broke through any walls she had left. She couldn’t find the words. She loved A’whora but saying it was something else entirely. So she showed it, pulling her in for a longer kiss.

A’whora felt all her feelings without the need for words. It was told through actions, the way Tayce’s hand ran through her hair, before circling to her jaw to stroke it softly, angling her into a deeper kiss. Her love was in the way their foreheads stayed pressed together as they fell apart. The shine in her eyes as her face lit up in an unconscious smile.

The way she let go, letting her love flow into everything and not trying to hide it.

“I love you too, Tayce.”

That was it, those were the words she’d wanted to hear for so long. It was a wave of warmth and euphoria that she never wanted to stop feeling.

“Come on, I love sitting here with you but I’m hungry and I think it’s time for beans on toast.”

Tayce finally moved, hanging her legs over the edge of the bed. If she didn’t attempt to move now they never would. Though she would come back later to cuddle up with A’whora for as long as she could, eating was important too.

“You’re insatiable! It’s always beans on toast with you.”

“If you act like that you won’t be getting any.”

With that, Tayce stood up and started walking to the kitchen only to be stopped by a sudden weight leant onto her back. A’whora laid her head on her shoulder with a content sigh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The quick response surprised both of them. Tayce hadn’t expected it to come out so soon, it would still be time until she could say it with the ease A’whora did, but that was fine.

A’whora loved her, that was all she ever needed.

[etjwrites]

OC Backstory - Emotion Edition | Week 5: Free/Courage

Week 0: Introduction || Week 1: Fear || Week 2: Joy || Week 3: Disgust || Week 4: Sadness || Week 5: Anger ||

Is it over already? This was so much fun! I really enjoyed participating and reading everyone's pieces. Thanks to our wonderful hosts @cirianne and @kosmosian-quills  for putting this on! These prompts filled my mind with layers upon LAYERS of backstory, and really helped me flesh out Brom as a character. Afallon is so much better because of it! 

You probably stumbled upon something between the last prompts, that moved you. An idea that didn’t really match the prompt. A backstory character that deserved exploring. A question that stayed unanswered. For this week, I encourage you to look for these questions and explore them, write on them, and tell me about it!

In keeping with the theme of this event, I chose yet another emotion, the story behind which I'm excited to share with y'all! Brom is about 14 here. (I started writing this and it wouldn't stop. Help.) @yourocsbackstory​

“These paths look treacherous,” Brom said, glancing nervously back at the way they'd come. He and Prentice had been traversing the numerous twists and turns of Hyphantria's revered caverns for quite a while, looking for all the secret entrances. Each time they explored the maze-like tunnels, they went a little farther, a little deeper.

Prentice waved a hand dismissively. “I've a sure foot.” He tapped the top of his boots with his walking staff. “Furthermore, how often have we quested here? These caves are as familiar as mine own hands.”

“We left familiar behind two chambers ago,” Brom reminded his friend. “I'm actively adding to our map as we progress.”

“If on the map, 'tis familiar,” Prentice rejoined. “No matter how new the path may be.” He patted the crystal-studded wall to his left. “In fact, I almost feel at home.”

“The whispering,” Brom said, unease, twisting in his chest. “It's stopped.”

Prentice quirked his head, listening. “Why so it has,” he said, brows knitting together before sheer panic stamped itself onto his features. “Brom, run!” He turned and dashed back through the tunnel, Brom following, the both of them slipping and sliding and cutting themselves against the sharp-edged walls.

Beneath their feet, the earth started to rumble, and dread seized Brom's heart. Would they die down here in the bowels of Hyphantria, ground into dust by the ceiling collapsing upon them? He pushed faster, past Prentice, towards the sparkling glimmer that marked one of the other large chambers whose tunnels would lead them back to the surface.

A sharp cry made him whip around and jerk to a stop. Prentice had fallen, struggling to regain his feet amidst the wobbling, unstable ground. A stalactite shook loose and crashed to the ground just where his head would have been, had he not managed to roll away in time.

Brom staggered towards him, hand outstretched, when the earth shook mightily.

Prentice flung himself at Brom.

Too late.

With a great, groaning sigh, the floor gave way, and Prentice tumbled deep into the newly formed crevasse.

“Prentice!” Brom screamed, dropping to his hands and knees, swaying with the sudden shuddering of cavern. He called his name again, peering desperately into the dark. But while the softly glowing crystal shards that lined the Shalott caves could well enough light the paths and tunnels they'd been exploring, their gentle luminescence was unable to penetrate the deep, yawning blackness that fell away in front of him.

He called again and again, but there was no answer. Either his friend had fallen so far he could not hear him, or he been knocked insensible upon landing. Neither scenario was desirable, and Brom squeezed his abruptly burning eyes shut, refusing to consider the possibility that Prentice might be gone.

No. He had to be alive. Had to be alright.

Ominous rumbles filled the sharp-toothed cavern, more stalactites falling during a particularly vicious quake.

The wisest thing to do would be to run, to flee to the next chamber and worm his way through one of the escape tunnels until he could see the sky once more.

But Brom couldn't leave Prentice here to die. He would be the worst kind of coward if he did that. His first and only friend in all of Hyphantria, who risked all manner of danger to sneak him across the boarder on occasions such as these, and showed him many of the wonders his mother's country had to offer. Brom would save him. Or die trying.

“Give me strength,” he prayed. He thrust trembling hands into his pack, withdrawing his climbing rope.  He kept up the silent prayers. He felt so utterly alone, the jarring earthquake shaking and horribly distorting the natural light of the caves so he could barely walk. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” he breathed, reciting the verses over and over even as his hands shook so much he could barely fasten the clips in place.

Brom tugged hard on the rope once he had tied it off, looping it around for added strength. He looped his climbing pick around his hands, aware he could lose a limb if it snagged in the wrong place, at the wrong time, yet horribly afraid to lose his means of retreat. With one of the picks he struck the vibrating wall, breaking off some crystals, which he tied about his arms.

“Prentice!” he called once more, and again received no answer. “Please be alive,” Brom prayed. “I need a miracle right now.”

Then he turned around, and—clinging to the ropes—lowered himself into the black abyss.

Brom descended for long minutes, the crystals lashed about him providing the faintest light. He steadily climbed deeper, the glow from the ceiling above diminishing until it felt like a distant memory.

This far down it was cold. The quake continued to rage, and Brom grew ever aware of a powerful thirst that made dizzy. But he dared not let go of the rope, not even to slake his needs.

His feet touched ground. He'd reached a small ledge.

Brom relaxed for half a moment, and then a terrible jolt flung him off its crumbling edge. He hit the other side of the crevasse hard, the breath knocking out of him and leaving him gasping as the rope tied around his middle yanked him to a stop. He hung there, dangling in the air, fingers barely able to brush either side.

Thankfully his picks had stayed attached, so he struck out with them, painfully aware that he'd run out of rope, and yet hadn't found Prentice. Brom gulped. He would have to climb up again and unloop the rope.

Ascending seemed to take twice as long, and Brom's arms were shaking when he reached the top. Everything was cast in an eerie blue and white glow, and Brom could feel that time was running out. If he didn't find Prentice soon, the falling stalactites might well block their path home.

Once he had the rope unfurled to its full length, Brom ventured once more into the place that had swallowed his friend. He passed the spot where he'd had to stop before and kept going, deeper, and deeper, the chill of the abyss freezing him to his bones.

And there!

Prentice's walking stick was wedged into a narrow part of the crevasse, two bloodied hands clinging to it.

Brom started crying.

One of Prentice's hands slipped, and he swore at Brom. “I didn't hold on this long for you to lose heart at the finish!” His voice was horse, likely from screaming. The shock had hit each of them in different ways it seemed.  

Ignoring his friend's harsh words, words that were driven by the terror in Prentice's eyes, Brom rappelled down closer. He gathered up the slack in the rope and looped it around Prentice's waist, securing it using a knot his father had once taught him.

“You can let go,” he said, testing the rope to make sure it still held fast.

“I confess, I cannot,” Prentice said, shaking his head minutely. His clothes were torn to shreds, like he'd scraped against the walls the whole way down until his stick had caught, and he had cuts and freshly-formed bruises adorning his entire body. One of his eyes was swollen shut, a jagged cut bisecting it that stretched from his cheek to his temple.

“One hand at a time,” Brom said, getting his hand under Prentice's and shifting it from the stick to his shoulder. He did the same with the other, and the next instant Prentice was clinging to him, limpet-tight.

A massive shudder rocked the cave at that moment, and the gap widened, Prentice's stick dislodging and spinning away into the darkness.

If I had been but a moment later, Brom thought, unable to repress the full-body shiver that twitched through him. He slid one of his picks into Prentice's hand, slipping the loop over his wrist twice.

“You must help me climb, I have not the the strength to lift us both.”

“Aye, 'tis time that I cease clutching you like a babe,” Prentice said, the words meant to be joking. The fine tremour in his voice spoiled the effect.

They struck out together, Prentice and Brom, inching their way up until they reached the cavern floor. Mercifully, the distressing bucking had stopped, and they lay on the rubble-strewn ground until they caught their breath.

“Thank Heaven,” Brom uttered aloud, and Prentice nodded solemnly along.

“You saved my life, Brom,” he said.

They rose to their feet and began the arduous, limping walk back to the escape tunnels.

“I owe you a great debt. I should never have placed you in this position. I . . . I almost killed you. I would not have begrudged you had you fled and left me behind.”

“I wanted to,” Brom admitted, shame flushing his skin. “At first. I was so afraid.”

“But you did not.” Prentice paused for a moment and clapped Brom on the shoulder before they resumed their trek. “I really thought I would die. I screamed and screamed, but you didn't answer. Or I couldn't hear a response amidst the earth's pain. The longer I held on, the more I began to wonder if I were mad for simply not accepting my fate. I had myself near about convinced that I should just let go.”

“Then I saw you, descending into the pit like the Archangel Michael himself. You could have died rescuing me. You looked as terrified as I felt. But still you threw yourself into the unknown. For me. In the greater world, we are yet seen as boys, but Brom—I tell you truly—you are the bravest man I've ever known.”

They turned a corner, and the bright sun greeted them.

Additional thanks to everybody who has read and commented on my work for this event. Y'all rock!

Tag Crew: @adie-dee @writtendevastation @catharticallysarcastic @francestroublr @crystallized-ink

[sidespromptblog]

The End For Him... For Them

Summary: They say that chasing after someone for years can be exhausting and mentally draining, but Logan has been the one giving the chase for centuries with no end in sight as his companion the chaser sees no problem to their game going on and on for however long they exist.

But Logan does, he doesn't want this life anymore.

So the truth comes out in surprising ways.

Warnings: Logan needs a hug, Logan is willing to let Remus kill him, Flashbacks, and Logan gives up.

Word Count: 4300

AO3 LINK

In the beginning, there were two gods created for the earth. 

One of the wild. 

He was the god of all of the creatures that roamed the earth, both feral and tamable creatures alike found shelter with the god. He was protective of those under his care, willing to slay anything and anyone that overstepped their boundaries, or for any perceived slights against him or his wards. He controlled the rate at which trees, vines, and grass took over the dead that died on his lands. He was responsible for the decay that would bring about new life, and he was said to be just as untamable as the creatures in his dominion. It was said that no other being alive or dead would be able to match him, that his savagery would be unparalleled by all of the pantheon, and that he would spend his days alone with nothing more than his creations to keep him from the brink of madness itself. 

Then there came to be a new god on earth. 

A god of the sky, of the sun, the stars, the moon, and the clouds.

For eons they wrestled with one another, the god of the wild trying to catch the stars and moon, trying to protect his creatures from the harmful rays and heat of the sun, and to lay claim to the sky. Since their very creation, they were made to oppose one another, as opposites in almost every way. The god of the wild holding his dominion over all of the earth, and the ground that had come with it.  As well as the god of the sky, and everything that came with his claim. They were equals, as the power of one was just as equal as the power of the other. 

They were meant to chase each other for all of eternity, one never allowed to catch up with the other.

Until...

“Please Remus,” Logan openly begs without a hint of shame to his voice, and just the sound of it, the mere idea of Logan begging him for anything is enough to make that primal thing in his chest writhe and thrash. It hurts... it hurts in a way that he’s never had to know before. It hurts to hear Logan begging like this, just as it hurts him to see the resignation in Logan’s eyes. With the knowledge that Logan isn’t going to fight back, and it hurts so much worse when the other man bares his neck to him. He has to clamp down his jaw at the sight of the tears that slowly make their way down Logan’s face. “Whatever you do...just make it quick... Please.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Logan wasn’t supposed to give up, and just let this happen. 

They… they were supposed to chase after each other for eternity, or for as long as their lives would allow them to. 

Something between a growl and a whine builds up in his throat the longer that he stares down at the other, for the life of him… he couldn’t recall just how long the two of them had been there. With Remus having seized Logan’s wrists firmly pinning him to the ground, and leaving him with no way to escape. Before his nails had scraped against Logan’s skin, leaving little shallow cuts wherever he had touched the other man. 

But now…

His touch was softer than the actual ground that he had Logan laying on, his claws just barely grazing the flesh that they had once been so savagely ready to tear into.

With little to no effort, Logan could easily slip away. Just as he had done for the past hundred years, leading the chase on once again. But this time… Logan didn’t move, he didn’t kick his feet out to get Remus off balance, and he didn’t surge up to try and escape. He just… laid there, with his throat open and awaiting whatever Remus would do to it, as if Remus could do such a thing. 

The whine that he had been repressing slipped out, “Don’t,” Remus softly warned, leaning his head so very close to Logan’s throat as he rested his forehead against the pulse point that had lept like a jackrabbit the moment his canines had gotten close. Logan was scared, there was no denying that. “Please don’t.” He whispered again, unable to stop himself from giving the other’s neck a soft nudge, as if he were no more than a mother wolf trying to get her cub out of the den. “Don’t do this to me, you…” Remus’ throat seized for a moment as every feeling he had been tussling with for over a century slammed into him all at once. “You know I can’t do it…”

Move! He silently begged the other, wishing that he would do anything other than just stay there awaiting a death that Remus couldn’t give him. Move please! Just go!

“You’ve been wanting this Remus, since the very beginning of our creations.” Came Logan’s gentle words, as the other man’s hand easily slipped out from under Remus’ claws. Not to escape… but to gingerly clasp the back of the other’s neck, rubbing the rigid tendons and muscles with his thumb. As if that could possibly make Remus kill him any faster. “I am giving it to you… so take it.” 

The very thought of doing so is enough to make Remus sick. 

He doesn’t want it, not like this… or ever really. This had been their game for who knew how long, Remus would chase him throwing wild threats and Logan… he would evade and throw back his own clever words. Words which would make Remus’ heart drum wildly in his chest, as the thrill of the chase was on once again. 

“I’m going to catch you!” Remus roars as his feet scrape the ground, his shoulder aching from where Logan had ducked under him at the last minute and led him to collide with a stone wall. “And when I catch you, I’m going to tear open your pretty throat and bathe in your blood you mistake of man and science! You can’t escape forever!” He had already shaken off the earthy dust, his injuries, and aches no more than meaningless drivel in the back of his mind. 

Ahead of him Logan laughs, a carefree and honestly… a beautiful sound if he had ever heard one. 

“You may try,” The other man bares his teeth in a sharp smile that is full of way too many teeth, Remus adores the sight of it. He’s going to wear it as a necklace someday he just knows it. “But if need be, I can give you a few months to catch up, old man. Having a little trouble… rising to the occasion?” And with his roar of rage and with that laugh… Logan is off, his steps infinitely faster than even the quickest movement that Remus could ever make. 

He has a feeling though, that Logan only slowed down for his benefit. Not that he’d ever admit to such a thing.

“Why?” He asks, shaking himself from the decades-old memory that had seized him in that moment. “Why this? Why now Logan? After so long… why?” 

There’s a sad smile on Logan’s face, the kind of smile that isn’t suited for the Logan of his memories… of that sharp wit that he had come to know and love. It makes him want to seize the other’s neck, and just shake and shake until something either pops loose or Logan starts acting like himself again. He doesn’t like the sadness in those eyes, just as he doesn’t like the way that the other’s thumb is still rubbing the muscles of his neck as if that by some miracle would make his questions go away. He doesn’t know what the burning sensation in his stomach is, but just like this moment right here… 

He doesn’t like it. 

Logan’s hand falls flat against the base of his skull, his fingers threading through his long braided hair his fingertips running over every bead that had been incorporated into it. There’s a look there that he doesn’t understand… it’s warm. “Remus…” Logan says his name like its the last thing he’ll ever say, “I am so very tired… I...I…” If he had been panicked before, he was now horrified as tears welled up in the other’s eyes, just barely clinging to his bottom lashes. “I don’t want to fight you anymore, I’m exhausted of this chase, no matter how you may be enjoying it. I want more from my existence than this… I…” The man that Remus had come to know since his creation swallowed thickly, “I am in lo-.”

“Shut up!” He snarls baring his teeth harshly against the other’s neck, his hands pressing quickly and efficiently over Logan’s mouth before he can so much as utter another word. “Shut up!”

“Do you ever get tired of chasing me?” Logan had asked one day, his legs dangling over the lip of the cave that Remus had found himself licking his wounds in. The view of the ocean was amazing, which was partially why he had come here, to begin with. “I mean… you never catch me. So… why do you keep going on and doing it? Doesn’t it get boring knowing how it will end? I’m always faster, so… why haven’t you given up?”

A rough snort is Logan’s answer, tying his latest scrape up with reeds and a healing salve Remus can’t help but to glare balefully up at the feet he can see swinging over the edge. He knows that without a doubt, Logan would be up and out of the way before Remus could even throw himself at those ankles. Either way… his feet hurt too much from the constant running, so it's not like he’d be able to get too far if he did give a chase to the irritatingly deep sky god. He hates how right he is about this, and he hates how much the other’s words make sense in this moment. But either way…

He has his own answer. 

“It’s not the outcome,” He gruffly answers, as he sparks a small little campfire into existence with the snap of his fingers. “It’s how you get away each time that makes me come back, each time… there’s something new with you. Some new trick that you’ve learned or had hidden up your sleeve, it… makes you interesting.” He confesses a warm bubble of something lingering in his chest. “If you weren’t interesting I wouldn’t give a chase… or I’d just kill you and be done with it. Find some other god to chase, or settle down in the wild again.” 

He’s not entirely sure if he means it or not. A part of him says it just so that Logan will get the hell out of his cave so that he can eat and sleep, and then again… another part of him wants to answer the other god’s question as much as he can. 

There is never a lot of time for the two of them to talk when Logan’s being chased, and this is probably the first time in decades that they’ve just sat down and not tried to kill each other. 

But even so…

“Are you done?” Remus can’t help but snap, the swinging of those legs distracting every time that he tries to settle down. “I am busy when I’m not chasing you everywhere. You know… things to do and people to decay.” 

Logan doesn’t answer him for a long time, and for a moment Remus is absolutely certain that the other god is either just ignoring him or has replaced his legs with a decoy so that Remus makes a fool out of himself. It’s only when he hears Logan sigh, and the other’s legs shift out of view that he knows that Logan finally got the memo. However, he hasn’t left yet, evidenced by the small wrapped up package that’s dropped down mere seconds later, just smelling it he can tell that its a mixture of clean nonpoisonous berries meant for him to eat. He doesn’t want to admit it… but it puzzles him, as he cautiously makes his way forward and snatches up the offered gift. 

On the roof of the seaside cave, he hears Logan’s feathery light footsteps walking away as slow as can possibly be. “Remus,” And there’s a pause on the top of the cave. “Take your time healing… I’ll still be here when you’re done. Sleep well.” 

And just like that, he’s gone. 

Remus likes to say that he doesn’t remember about that day and the gift that Logan gave him, but in all honesty… he very much does. 

 Remus’ sharp canines sink into the unscathed slope of Logan’s throat just the tiniest bit, and in an instant, without even giving himself even a second to think about it or the blood that he can just barely taste on his tongue… he jerks his head back. There, the first mark he’s ever made on the sky god with his fangs alone is a series of shallow cuts, with beads of dark red rising to the surface before sluggishly dripping down his collarbone and disappearing into the fabric of his deep blue and silver top. They’re relatively small by comparison of what they could have been had he actually bitten down, so small to the point where it honestly barely even counts as an injury. It’s certainly nothing compared to the accidental injuries that Remus had done to himself while chasing after the god underneath of him. 

But it’s a wound nonetheless.

His blood doesn’t even smell like blood, it smells like the ozone after a lightning storm. Of fresh rain on an open field when the mice and moles finally come up from their burrows to have a good drink. It smells like everything and nothing all at the same time, so much from just a shallow and small wound.  

But... 

The sheer amount of horror and guilt that abruptly slams into him at the sight, smell, and taste of it is almost devastating as he lifelessly slumps against the other god’s chest.

A low keening howl leaves his throat feeling more like shards of glass, “No,” He whines, butting the top of his head against the underside of Logan’s jaw in a desperate bid to lick the wound to stop the blood flow. “No, nononono…” The god of the wild mumbles as his hands slide from Logan’s mouth, to the sides of his head in order to wrench the other’s head back more for a good look at the tiny cut. 

It’s so small, and otherwise inconsequential. But coming from him....

“No!"

“Remus…”

There’s no telling what it could do to Logan. How it would affect him. Or if he'd even die from the slightest wound that he got from him. 

“Remus.”

He could actually die. 

“No!”  

“Rem-” 

"What do you think happens to us if we die?" Logan curiously asked as he patiently tapped his foot in front of Remus waiting for the god to regain his senses before their chase continued as per usual. Once again it was one of those times in between their chases when Logan always had so many questions about him, it was his most intriguing and yet most annoying quality all at the same time. "Do you think we'd get remade into our domain? Like I'd turn into a cluster of stars, if you actually managed to kill me. Or would I just cease to be?" 

Remus groaned as he rubbed his aching head from where he had impulsively bull-rushed Logan head first, closing his eyes he saw stars of a different kind. 

A smile curled onto Logan's lips as he leaned down just a little in order to be face to face with the god of the wild. "Would you howl and cry for me at night? Would you howl at my moon and stars?" Remus fought back the urge to snap at Logan's nose, as the other's smile turned melancholy. "I'd mourn you. In your waterfalls, in the earth after a storm, and in the cries that your animals would make. I'd mourn you, even if you wouldn't do the same for me…" 

There was that look again. 

That deep far away look that Remus had never been able to pin down before, it was a look that had oftentimes left him feeling very perplexed about the god in front of him. It was a look that told him, had Logan not been created to be the sky god… he would have been someone incredibly smart for who he was. He might have been the kind of guy who didn’t have anything to do with the stars and everything involving the sky.

Like an astronomer. 

"Damn you," He openly cursed, as he surged up, just to have Logan step away as soon as he did. "Don’t.” He openly and rather darkly warns, in Logan’s eyes there is clearly no love lost between them, but in Remus’ eyes its another matter entirely. “You don't know a single thing about how I'd mourn." His mouth ran off before his mind could truly catch up to him, as he stubbornly and rather sluggishly brought himself back up to his feet. "I'd fucking mourn." But just not in the way that Logan would ever expect him to. 

The whole earth would be silent for the stars if they never were to shine again, Remus would ensure it. 

Without Logan… meaning would have no meaning. 

There is no warning for what happens next. 

As Logan surges up, clasping Remus’ head between his hands and slams their mouths together cutting off the panicked flow of disjointed words that the other god had been babbling at the bite on his neck. It is anything but pleasant given that it’s his first time, and even more so considering that Remus’ first instinct is to snarl at the pressure on his mouth, his clawed fingers curling almost possessively down the curve of his neck and around his shoulders leaving a trail of white lines where they touch. Regardless of how Remus reacts afterward, Logan at least has the satisfaction in knowing that the other god is no longer panicking himself into a stupor. Or more importantly...  

He’ll no longer feel bad about ending the sky god’s existence now. 

Except… as inexperienced as both he and Remus are… the kissing doesn’t stop, not that Logan is complaining about that. It’s animalistic, what with the way that Remus’ tongue drags over Logan’s lips, as if trying to taste every little bit of him, with the way that his sharp canines nip and bite at his lips and jawline something much more satisfying happening, and with the way that Logan isn’t even being pinned under the god of the wild. What with the way that his arms have securely looped under the sky god’s body bringing him firmly against Remus’ chest, and in turn his warmth. 

They had never touched like this before, for Remus it was a surprise to feel just how cold Logan was to touch. It was like trying to touch a cold gust of wind, or even worse… touching the chilled body of a dead creature that had been dead for days. There wasn’t a spot of warmth to be felt on the other god’s body, unlike Remus, who felt absolutely blisteringly warm with the heat of the earth’s core. In all honesty…

It was the first time that Logan had felt warmth like this, and not have it chased away with his own internal temperature. 

He couldn’t help but to melt under that warmth, as his eyes closed blissfully and his head tipped back, even more, exposing even more of his unmarked neck to the other god. It didn’t matter if he would die right then or not at all, not if Remus kept holding him like this with a grip so strong that it was practically guaranteed that he wouldn’t fall. Despite everything that he had thought in the past, or even just assumed of the other, his grip and his warmth… it didn’t hurt. It was like feeling the sun’s rays through the shade of the trees, with the promise that he wouldn’t get burned by it. It felt comfortable and it felt… safe. Safer than any of the close calls he’d ever had with Remus, and safer than when he’d just been pinned under the other god mere moments ago. 

Speaking of which though…

“Don’t stop,” He whispered the moment that Remus’ lips moved from his mouth down to his neck, “If you hate me… then kill me right here and now with as much swiftness and painlessness that you possess. Please.” He asked.. no, begged again of the other. There was no being transparent about it now, and there was no sugarcoating things now that he had already done the impossible and kissed the god of the wild. 

His opposite in just about every way imaginable. 

But even so… that didn’t stop the deep savage growl from curling up from Remus’ chest and right into his throat, so that it vibrated against Logan’s own. His teeth that had scraped against Logan’s throat with each brutal kiss, were now bared once again, the pearly whites glinting dangerously against the setting sun of what would be their crossroads. And just as quickly as it had come, the bright and brilliant hope that had burned in Logan’s chest was almost instantly smothered with the dark snarl of Remus’ teeth that swiftly and rather remorselessly wrapped itself about the sky god’s esophagus. There was no mistaking what it meant, and there was no mistaking the end either. 

Remus had promised that he would tear open his throat, he had sworn multiple times that he would do such a thing. There was no use crying about it, and there was no use lamenting about it either. He too had promised that he would give Remus exactly what he wanted out of their confrontations.

And he would. 

But even with all of that, Logan still couldn’t bear to look. As he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the tears as he allowed himself to go limp once again. He would be ready when it would happen, and he would not cry. 

He would not cry.

He. Would. Not. 

“I am in love with you.” He whispered, allowing himself this one small moment of weakness, as the tears that had been clinging to his bottom eyelashes finally fell. “I love you, as the moon loves the ocean…” 

Forever. 

A low guttural growl rumbled through Remus’ throat, “I said shut up.” He mumbled, as he sat up practically dragging Logan up with him so that he remained firmly squished against his chest. Logan could feel the pounding of the other’s heart against his own, it was racing practically galloping behind that ribcage of his in the way that could only describe one emotion. Horror. “I said that I couldn’t do it before,” Remus said against his neck, nestling and nuzzling his face against the lines where his teeth had accidentally sunk in. “You think that I’m going to do it when I already feel the same?” 

In that moment, all of time itself seemed to slow down.     

Never in a million years would he have thought that those words would Remus’ mouth, sure the other was always headstrong about his feelings and his innate need to hunt him down for whatever reason. But never would Logan have assumed that Remus would be actually willing to admit it out loud, maybe as more of an understood thing if the other god didn’t kill him, but never an openly and shamelessly admitted confession such as this. It went against practically everything that he knew about Remus in general, but then again… how much was that really, if he had honestly thought that the other god would kill him? 

“Really?” He nervously asked, still not daring to believe it just yet, not after so long. Not that Remus would ever hold it against him. “No tricks, like with your brother and the snake incident?”

“No tricks.” Remus openly promises.

He sees it, for the first time. That pale yellow dusting of blush, the color of sunsets and the stars passing over Logan’s freckled cheeks. He sees the hope that was always missing in the vacant stares that the other god would sometimes give him whenever he had his questions, and it fills him with a deep warmth that could never be matched by the actual temperature of his body. It’s relief he knows, its the one emotion he knows enough about, given that he’s felt it every time that Logan has successfully evaded his attacks and threats. It’s no less overwhelming than it was before than it is now, but he counts that as a plus.

It means that he cares.    

Logan swallows thickly, “Good.” The sky god says rather bravely.

And this time, without hesitating their lips crash together once again. Only this time Remus rolled onto his back, allowing the sky god to pin him down to the earth as his cold lips explore his. All while keeping his hands rather firmly on the other’s hips, now touching him as much as he had wanted to in the past. There’s nothing to stop either of them now, not as they fully fall into one another.  

Just as it was always meant to be.

[sapphicambitions]

like when I say I think Luke Castellan is gay I don’t mean it as a cutesy “don’t u wish ur fave was gay” kind of way I mean textually and seriously I believe he was gay. 

I could cite the petty stuff like “he only had female friends growing up” and “he clearly never showed interest in women even though many women were interested in him” or “he is one of the few people in the series who didn’t actually have a serious love interest / partner” or whatever but i feel like it’s actually much deeper than that. Luke was a young person who had a difficult and strained relationship with his parents. He saw how flawed the system was and how it was treating people like him, and sought to change the system, give power to people like him, and start it all over. (Yeah, he fell victim to people who influenced him to the dark side but that had nothing to do with his gayness, imo.) He just reminds me a lot of characters like Nico and Catra from She-Ra: repressed gay with a strained relationship with parental figures, angry and willing to take down the world. In this essay I will-

.......like no but seriously

Luke had a very troubled childhood because of his mother’s damaged mind, and the fact that she was constantly having fits and telling him how terrible things were going to be for him. When Luke is (angrily) describing his childhood to Hermes he says: “You could’ve helped me when she was having one of her fits, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate. When I used to hide in the closet so she wouldn’t find me with those glowing eyes,” like!!! he even mentions hiding in a closet (let me find the subtext where i want it)  but seriously, you know what’s one of the first things my mother said to me when I came out to her? “You know how much harder your life is going to be, don’t you?” So then Luke ran away from his home and found a new family, one that looked out for each other and loved each other more than their blood family ever did. This is a queer narrative!!

And with Hermes, it was all sorts of fucked up. His father kept him at a distance. Made Luke feel like there was something wrong with him, like he didn’t love him. His dad made it very clear to him what his expectations were of him, tried to encourage him to be a great hero, like all the heroes before him (when he was talking to him about sending him on a quest and Hermes said “You will get a change to be a great hero before…”) but Luke didn’t want to be the person his father expected him to be. He wanted to be something new, something true to himself. Luke was always burdened down with the weight of his parent’s expectations, both the expectation that he should strive to be a perfect hero and the knowledge that his future was doomed. 

So one time i was at a bar with friends and me and the only other queer person there were talking and he was like “gay men and their dads, you know what i mean?” and I was like “yeah also gay women and their moms” and we had a whole discussion about growing up with a certain set of expectations of who you’ll be from your parents and the gendered expectations they have for you and having to crush all of that when you come out to them and navigating the difficulties that come with that when you want to be your own person so like there’s your real world comparison / evidence for that argument

ALSO Luke ran away from home but then kind of immediately went to Camp Half-Blood where he was shoved into the Hermes cabin with all of his siblings and undetermined kids and then still expected to scrape part of his food in the fire and be thankful to his deadbeat dad. That would suck! He was already harboring all of this rage inside of him, and then he went on his quest. Saw the world. Was exposed to other schools of thought. He understood that he was just being used as a pawn. He came back a different person, he didn’t quite fit in at camp anymore now that he’d seen the world. Kind of like when I went off to be gay at college and then came back to my childhood home and had to be straight around all my high school friends. just saying.

Luke saw the flaws in the system, the way the gods ruled the world. The way the gods treated their children and how much it hurt them. He felt so betrayed and hurt and abandoned by his dad and all the gods, so instead of sitting with it, he thought “I can do better.” Luke sought to rebuild the world, scrap it all and start new. Start with new leaders who took better care of everyone, who did things completely differently than the way it was done before, and raze anything before it. We’re going to ignore the fact that he was influenced to the dark side for a moment because it’s not related to this essay, but I also feel like this is a very queer narrative. (how many times can i say that phrase in this essay) Seeing the flaws in the way the world is treating people like you and wanting to do better. Luke said (this not an actual book quote more of a dramatic sentiment): “I won’t be used and I won’t be who you want me to be. I will become my own person and there’s nothing you can fucking do to stop me. I will make a new world, better than before, without you, for people like me, and I will tear down the walls of the previous world if I fucking have to” and i just think that’s very gay rights of him.

A thing that I’m a big fan of is seeing specific character types and relating them to each other. For example: our fave Nico di Angelo and Catra from She-Ra. (If you haven’t seen She-Ra, she’s the DEFINITION of an angry repressing gay) We can see from Nico’s narrative and from Catra’s narrative and also just straight up my own personal narrative that sometimes when you’re gay and repressing and afraid of becoming the person you are warned against, while also knowing that you were meant for more but maybe not quite understanding what that more is yet, and overall just want to feel accepted and loved as who you truly are but not receiving that, it can tend to make one lash out in angry and irresponsible ways. It can make one isolate themselves from those they previously were close to. It can lead to irrational and impulsive choices for all the wrong reasons because you don’t feel right and you don’t know why. Not at all saying this is the same across the board for queer people, it’s just something that honestly happens to some people and I can relate to when i see it in characters. 

I see that in Luke. He is weighed down by everything his parents want him to be, both good and bad, and is trying to scrap the world and make a new one for people like him. He wants to take his turn, pushing aside anyone who’s hurt him. Luke was someone who was constantly being torn apart by the world and just wanted to feel safe and secure in who he was and the world he was in. He was acting in anger and fear and hurt and revenge for his childhood and because he still felt like there wasn’t a place in the world for him. He lashed out against his father and his family and his friends and pushed them all away. Sure, he had some friends at Camp Half-Blood, but Annabeth’s devotion to him was not enough to make up for like, all of his childhood trauma. First everything with his mom and then being on the run for so long and then meeting his dad and then losing Thalia (which also fueled his anger and hatred of the gods but like we knew that) and his quest and just everything. He was dealt a cruel hand and he didn’t handle it well. Not that that has anything to do with him being gay but I’m just lamenting over the tragedy of his life. Anyway.

Also not to quote the Lighting Thief because it’s not technically in Rick’s canon but i still think they perfectly understood the characters so I’m including it, but the idea that Luke has tried to be a good kid, he’s tried to do what was expected of him, he’s done everything they ever asked of him, but it didn’t pay off. It didn’t matter. It still wasn’t a world he belonged in. “you know this world will never be ours as long as our parents rule over the stars” and “it’s time to make the world our own” strikes me very much to the tune of LGBT activism. once again ringing in that idea of “if you won’t make the world better than i will do it with my bare hands” he also sings “the gods were never on our side, so i think it’s time we watched them fall” which gets to me every time because like he was just a kid! he was just a kid who had so much hurt and anger inside of him and he went about everything the wrong way but he was just a fucking kid! 

also YES to be petty and shallow but while Annabeth and Thalia refer to luke romantically, he never mentioned the same for him. Kelli the sexy monster hits on him during Battle of the Labyrinth and was clearly interested in him and he pushes her away without any hesitation. IN FACT the only demigods referenced on Luke’s ship are Chris and Ethan (why we didn’t see any of that trio, I’ll never understand), with Ethan working much closer with Luke and being a major player in the Titan War. (also I think Ethan is queer too but that’s a battle for another day.) And Rick LOVES romances. pretty much every character gets paired up with someone in the original series (percy and annabeth, grover and juniper, even Clarisse and Chris) which is fab thank u rick for my percabeth rights but Luke is the only character who does not get a girlfriend!! because he’s a homosexual!!!! you know what other character didn’t get paired off in the original series??? NICO, a known homo!!!  i do think that luke is a case of “accidentally written homo” because this was before rick saved the world and gave us nico’s coming out and really started pushing for queer rep in the books (thank u again rick!!!!), so I’m allowed to find my gay subtext in the original series, thank u very much!

listen all im saying is that my favorite character narrative is “angry gay coded villain who is repressing and lashing out at the world because of it” and i truly believe luke fits into that narrative and I stand by my argument.

Thank u for attending my TED Talk

[yandere-daydreams]

Soft Yandere, Momo pAmpering the ever loving shit out of her winged darling please? With lots of kisses and cuddles and petting her darlings wings

Wings are such a universal desire, everyone seems to want them. I can’t blame you people, either. They’d be so useful, for the symbolism alone.

TW: Physical Abuse, Implied Kidnapping and Threats of Physical Harm.

~

She kept you in a cage.

Momo would deny it until her lungs gave out, but she’d never been good at lying, especially not when she was lying to you. It would’ve taken a blind man not to see the bars on your windows, the furniture hanging too high off the ground for anyone but you to reach, the ceiling too high and the room to narrow to resemble something besides an enclosure for the animal she swore she didn’t see you as. Everything was silver or porcelain or shining, decorated with the luxury Momo had always tried to repress, before. She wouldn’t tell you how much anything cost, but chains so strong couldn’t have come cheap.

Even now, as you sat in front of her, you doubted she cared for anything but the wings on your back. It’d become a daily ritual, between the two of you. Whenever Momo returned home, she’d come into your prison and call you away from whatever you were doing, insistent on caring for your more bird-like aspects. The process was meticulous, calculated, each brushstroke and pulled feather taking more thought than it should’ve. She was always like that, so constantly careful with you. Not that Momo’s caution had ever stopped her from grabbing at your skin until it bruised.

Momo’s voice was soft, when she spoke, bordering on inaudible. Like speaking too loudly could hurt you. “Patrols were so stressful, today, I hardly got back to my agency on time,” She explained, letting her hands run over the arches of your outstretched wings. It still took considerable concentration to not lash out, to keep them from flapping or lifting you off the ground or rejecting Momo’s contact. They were weapons, to you, allies you could trust and did trust. But, now, you dug your nails into your palms and held them still.

Things never ended prettily when you tried to get away from her.

“You get it, right? I knew there would be petty thieves and criminals, but god, there’s just too many to handle, some days.” You could see her in your mind, shaking her head with that light frown pulling at her lips, but you didn’t dare answer. Momo didn’t seem to care, leaning forward as she continued, a hand resting on your shoulder from behind and urging you towards her, allowing Momo to kiss the leading edges of your closest wing between words. “I’m always so happy to come home to my little angel. You know that, don’t you? I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

You forced a grin, if only out of habit, dropping it as soon as you realized she wouldn’t notice. Still, you let your wings flutter in the way you knew she loved, the smile soon pushing against your feathers giving you enough confidence to shift around. Momo chuckled as you curled your wing around your side, wrapping it over yourself like a shawl, her calmness coming as more of a relief than it should’ve been. Still, you didn’t let yourself do the same, remaining as rigid as you’d ever been. “Yaoyorozu-”

Her smile faltered. Your other wing pressed into your opposite side, defensively. Reflexively.

“Sweetheart,” You corrected, pausing to let out a nervous chuckle. “I… I was wondering if we could go for a walk? I’ve been stuck in my room for days, and I just want to go outside for a few minutes, if that’s alright. I won’t even try to do anything, you can use the weights, if you want to!” Letting your excitement get ahead of you, your wings retracted, tucking into your back as you reached for Momo’s hand. “Please? I need some fresh air, it feels like I’m losing my mind-”

Before you could finish, she was standing, towering above you and looking so much bigger than she had, moments ago. Automatically, you moved to get up or take off or do something, but her heel was embedded in your midriff before you had the chance, knocking you onto your side and slamming you into the floor, a harsh crash echoing from somewhere in your ribcage. She knew you were frail, compared to any normal person, that a strong gust of wind could overpower you, but Momo didn’t seem to be in a gentle mood. The whimper came out before you could choke it down, your self-pity only growing more justified as you tried to curl into yourself, your efforts proving pointless with another grind of Momo’s foot, another oh-so collected glare.

“I’m sorry!” The apology was as instinctive as breathing or blinking, flowing as swiftly from your lips as the tears did from your eyes. “I won’t ask again, I’m sorry-”

“Bullshit.” There was no trace of sympathy, no kindness or love or affection, only Momo’s coldness and your terror. Even then, at the peak of her rage, she made a show of inhaling, clenching her fists before letting the tension slowly dissolve from her body. She put on a neutral expression, but it was forced, cracking at the slightest hint of resistance. You wondered if she was going to kill you, for a moment, but Momo had never been that merciful. “If I let you go… out there, you’ll run. You’ll run and fly and you’ll take away my angel. I can’t let you do that. You understand, don’t you? I won’t be able to keep going, without you.”

You didn’t answer, keeping your eyes closed and biting your cheek, the taste of blood soon washing over your tongue. Momo nearly growled, the next kick landing on the small of your back, knocking you onto your chest as she stepped closer. “Do you understand, (Y/n)?”

“Yes!” You nodded furiously, disregarding the chill of the tile floor against your cheek, the twitch of your wings as they fought to stay still. “I understand, I don’t want to go outside!”

Instantly, her demeanor changed, the loveliest smile she’d ever worn spreading over her lips as she kneeled. You thought she would cup your cheek, for a moment, run her fingers through your hair or do anything you might’ve been able to write off as ‘comforting’, but her hand went straight to your wings, petting over the smooth surface as if it was the most delicate thing in the world. “Still, I don’t think we can take that risk. You know how much it hurts me to hurt you, but…”

Without thinking, she tugged at the edge of a primary feather, grinning a little wider at the resulting whimper.

“I think it’s time to make sure you can’t fly away from me.”

[ijustchangedmyname]

Menajerimi Ara Episode 10- A Few Thoughts (Or A Rant)

Okay, so I've been watching Menajerimi Ara for a few weeks and the reaction to the last episode was what made my feelings boil over and finally forced me to voice my thoughts. I was taking numerous notes while watching which were mostly me fangirling over Dicle and Feris but I hope I sound coherent.

I'd like to start off with how much I adore Dicle. I have loved many female characters over the years (e.g recently Eda and Ceren, of Sen Çal Kapımı) but Dicle is the one I relate most to. It was her character that drew me into the story and kept me hooked. I love that she's sensitive, expressive, hardworking, quietly confident yet humble. She cries but she keeps powering through. I absolutely adore her and just want to follow her story to see her succeeding and being happy.

Rating War and Social Media

The reason that really made me write was the brief snippet I got into the fandom's reaction while going through twitter to follow the live translation. I very rarely go to twitter for fan discourse because it's too fast and crazy for my taste.

While I am glad that the day change grabbed ratings and the social media fandom is crucial in getting their views heard and making the hashtags trend, I was genuinely surprised by the few tweets I passed over regarding Emir's introduction and how the tracks were being written.

I completely agree that the writing did seem contrary at times to me. The characters seemed to be taking inconsistent decisions on the whim of the writer just to cause drama. Also, the it was more focused on the personal lives of the managers rather than the industry drama.

All of this just reinforced the reactive and extremely volatile nature of the Turkish TV Industry and the instant lashing. But it made me realise how rigid we as an audience have become.

People arguing that they want the original writing and arcs, and especially "Dicbar", while at the same time arguing that the real reason they're watching is not for the romance but the industry behind the scenes.

This was particularly reflected in the reading of Emir's character and twisting his actions - partly by the writer because he was introduced entirely as part of a triangle- to make him out to be a controlling person who will prove to be an abusive partner. I mean the reach. It leached all joy out of watching for me.

I dearly hope the writer does NOT take this direction and turn him into a psychopath or a typical antagonist down the road.

Viewing Experience

@howaboutbucky writes AMAZING reviews of the episodes and I wait eagerly for her insights each week. In her last one regarding Episode 9, she hit the nail on the head again. *chef's kiss*

I'd like to build upon what she mentioned regarding MA going the dark path of only trying to bank on woman on woman hate and tension by writing Gulin and especially Beren as they have been doing. I think Dizis suffer the same issue that romance novels in general do. The primary audience is women and it invites alot of scrutiny of women's actions by women themselves. Everything is nitpicked.

What truly angers me though is that even here if men are secondary characters or evil or have no growth arc they are still given a free pass to dwell in more shades of grey than female characters ever do. Because the writers are busy writing cliche tracks and we as an audience are busy picking it apart while male characters get to enjoy even the benefits of being ignored.

Dicle and Selflessness

As I said, Dicle has been my absolute favourite character and I loved that they had managed to balance this quality so far. However, I feel like she is going to fall victim to the 'melek gibi' leads that usually populate dizis. Her selflessness was bordering on stupidity in this episode. I liked how her honesty and goodness was shown as positive in the Burcin episode while in the first one her good intentions with Tuba backfired. How she was going to give up her job to make Kyrach's life easier but then decided that she wouldn't. I loved that she referred to "becoming a little shark" at that point as Kyrach had predicted. I wish the show would keep this balance and show Dicle's greatest strength is her greatest weakness and how she struggles to retain her integrity in the industry. That is what made me emotional.

In this episode, it didn't make me feel, her "selfless" decisions made me mad. What put me off even further was how everyone kept lauding her selflessness, as if the audience would'nt have caught on had not every character bashed us over the head with it. It was as bad as everyone apologising to Beren.

I actually would've like if they portrayed how Dicle's decisions were actually mostly selfish. Who is she to tell Barış to go make up with Beren? As a friend, that is overstepping a line. Her asking Kyrach to make sure Beren was not fired was a way to make herself not feel guilty.

The only time I thought Dicle was being herself was when she balked after finding out Feris had brought her to set to be apologised to. Dicle HAS been established as wanting to avoid conflict since the start. Emir was right on about that.

Barış

Honestly, I wish they'd give us more insight into Barış career, have him do fun friend things with Dicle or just not show him atall and we'll assume he's off with Beren or his friends or whatever. To have him just stand around and be jealous is agonising.  @likeablehades and @nawaazishein did a wonderful post about Barış recently. I loved his character since the start, not to ship but just to follow his growth.

Emir

Right off the bat, Emir was written to be the complete opposite of Barış in his mannerisms, in everyway. And you know what? I liked it. I was excited by it. We were going to see another younger actor's experience close up, who was confident and comfortable with his stardom.

I wanted to find out his backstory and what kind of struggles he might face. I sincerely hope that we get to know him more not just in a love triangle but as having a growth arc of his own. I think just using him as a triangle is a reductive reading of his character by the writer. (and the audience)

I love that he's slightly icy yet straightforward. He seems mature and not emotionally constipated??

I'm sincerely hoping we get to delve more into his character and see how his and Dicle's arcs intertwine.

Parallels

I'd like to mention Barış and how he shows emotion. He has said himself that a scream builds inside him. It's interesting how he initially comes off as impulsive yet on closer examination he actually refrains from reacting right away most of the time, especially with Dicle and what we see is him hitting breaking point due to repressed feelings and then taking rash decisions.

In a way I find him similar to Dicle that he avoids confrontation, especially romantic, unless pushed hard. Throughout Barış doesnot show his emotions in the moment. He only broke up with Beren through a scene they were doing.

Perhaps it's a side effect of being an actor. He takes his craft seriously; analysing a scene, understanding a character and then embodying the emotion that fits. I think it carries over to him receding into an observer role in key situations (such as with Dicle on the terrace in Ep 10) and trying to decide the perfect response.

Another thing is how Dicle and Emir parallels Dicle and Barış; thete is a role reversal for Dicle.

I think we tend to get too attached to the first love interest. Personally, I'd love it if Barış and Dicle actually became great friends. (although a waste of chemistry :"( )

From the start, Dicle went into that relationship expecting something romantic and I never felt that she was equal. Whereas with Emir she has always been professional. Dicle doesn't avoid confrontation with Emir ever since he openly pointed out he was testing her. She never gives under pressure.

With no expectations, it feels more of an equal push and pull in their interactions even if they are not romantic.

Some random thoughts I had while watching:

- Dicle looks FIRE in all her scenes. 😭😭😭❤❤❤❤

-Emir is so firmly in the clientzone lol.

- So Dicle is 22, Emir is 28. How old is Barış?

-I love the head wagging Chynar does everytime he's happy and something has been accomplished!!! (at Dicle after she told Burcin the truth and at Kyrach when he told him about Buse being hired.)

-I do womder why Barış doesn't have any friends? :"(

-Aah Feris ahh canim benim.

- I wish we'd get to see small snippets of Dicle talk to her mother more. Not only when she has a problem. I'd love to see what she says to Leyla about her work mom.

-"Other girls might like it." I don't understand why we have to put down other girls in order to be considered strong.

- Julide serving looks!!

- Honestly why is Barış with Beren?????

He has no interest. None of the younger people are in love in this show, it's just infatuation. Beren and Dicle's with Barış.

- Ugghh Deniz Can Aktaş ♡♡♡ That head movement he does as Barış. And the smile. I adore.

- Meral suggesting a BECHAMEL BOOK LMAAOO

-Is "you didn't answer my question" going to be Emir and Dicle's "phrase"?

I love that she's buying a cookbook aaah!!

- And most importantly- WHO IS LEAKING INFORMATION??!!!!!

I can't shake the feeling that it is Gulin.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘wreck my plans’ chapter 9: that’s my man

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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          Sherlock tossed his phone on the sofa as Molly tucked hers away in the pocket of her coat, and he cradled her face in his hands, willing himself to believe she was really here, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt. “You’re here,” he murmured, still not quite believing it. Leaning down and pressing his lips to hers, Sherlock felt her wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, opening her mouth to him. A warm, spine-tingling sensation washed over her down to her raised-up toes as his tongue met hers, their noses brushing. “Mmm!” she sounded as he guided her inside the flat, his lips unrelenting, not wanting to break from hers. He backed her up against the door, effectively closing it.

            He withdrew his tongue in favor of small, soft brushes of his mouth against hers. Molly nuzzled her nose with his, cold meeting warm, and he pressed a kiss to the tip of it. “Molly,” he sighed happily. “My darling,”—he kissed the corner of her left eye—“my heart.” He kissed the corner of her right eye.  

            “I love you.” They spoke in unison, both laughing in relief. Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers briefly as he removed her gloves. He lifted her left hand, glancing down at it to find there was no longer a ring on her finger. It all had felt too good to be true, he had to be sure. She slid her bag off her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor.

            Sherlock stroked her cheek with a feather-light touch of his fingers. He was having a hard time believing she was really there—that she had chosen him. “Do you realise how long I’ve dreamt of this?”

            Tears welling up in her eyes, Molly shook her head. “Tell me.”

            “Since staying with you on my last night in London,” he confessed. “I could hardly bare to leave you.”

            She closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks. Their conversation in the stairwell had a whole new meaning to her now. She hadn’t been imagining things. An ache bloomed in her chest as she realised she had broken his heart that day. “I missed you so much,” she told him.

             He took a moment to wipe her tears away. “I missed you too.”

             Molly rose up on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, gently tugging on his bottom lip. He was sure that if heaven existed, it couldn’t compare to this. “I have to be honest: I wasn’t so sure you’d still want me after everything,” she said quietly.

             With a shake of his head, chuckling, Sherlock dismissed her fears. “Of course I still want you. I will always want you, Molly. If it makes you feel any better, I was thoroughly convinced you didn’t love me. I was sure it was unrequited. I was afraid to hope for more.”

             “What on earth made you think that?” she asked.

             He smiled sadly, leading her to the sofa so they could have this conversation as comfortably as possible. “You were set to marry a man who was my opposite in almost every way. I thought you couldn’t possibly love or want someone like me. What else was I supposed to think? I felt I should back off, so—“    

             “You avoided me for three weeks,” she finished, understanding his reasons why.

             He nodded. “I just wanted what was best for you.”        

             Molly locked her eyes on his, wanting to get her next words through his brilliant head. “You are what’s best for me.”

             Her words took him by surprise. Sherlock wondered if she was right. He really was too critical of himself. “I’d say sorry for wrecking your engagement plans, but…”

             She laughed. “Sherlock Holmes, you can wreck my plans any time you like.”

             He gathered her in his arms, holding her close to him, leaning his head against hers. “Stay with me?”

             Molly snuggled up against him. “I thought you’d never ask.”

.

.

             As she readied herself for bed, Molly had trouble processing all that had happened in the last few hours. That shell of a person she had been for so long disappeared. She didn’t recognise that girl anymore. Looking at herself in the mirror, her hair wild from having his fingers in it and her lips slightly swollen from his kisses, she realised she didn’t recognise this version of herself either. But she did find she preferred herself this way. Molly felt braver, happier. Her eyes held a sparkle that lit up her entire face.  

             She dug through her bag in search of pajamas, her face flushing when she realised all she had with her were two nightdresses. One was cotton and long in a t-shirt style and the other a small mass of light pink satin with black lace trim, and a cheeky slit on each side. Her fingers immediately grabbed the cotton one, but she made no further move to change. Molly took a deep breath. No more fear.  

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              Sherlock lounged back against his pillows not quite certain he wasn’t dreaming. He felt nervous all of a sudden, though he hadn’t a clue why. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared a bed before, but then again, there would no longer be anything separating them. He’d be able to hold her if he wanted to. The thought overwhelmed him, making his heart ache with all the love he felt for her. This was why he had always repressed his emotions—it was too much for him to handle.

               But this was Molly. She knew him better than anyone. If anyone understood, it would be her. The thought calmed him considerably. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of. She loved him unconditionally. And she taught him how to love unconditionally—taught him how to love her. It would be okay. He knew she’d make sure of it. No longer did he only trust her with his life, but he now trusted her with his heart which began beating wildly again when she walked into the bedroom wearing a lovely combination of satin and lace, her hair falling over her shoulders.

               “I—I can change,” she told him, beginning to lose her confidence. “It was either this or—“

               Sherlock shook his head. It hadn’t occurred to him she’d be nervous too. “You’re beautiful, Molly.” He lifted the duvet for her and she hesitantly slipped in beside him, into his arms. He pulled her close against him, their noses touching. “That wasn’t so scary was it?”

                “No,” she admitted with a smile, feeling silly for having been so afraid for no reason. Her fingers reached up to sift through his hair, twirling his onyx locks around. His hitched breath caught her attention and she removed her hand from his curls to cradle his face, her thumb lightly tracing his cheekbone. “Are you scared too?”

                Of course she’d pick up on it. Sherlock was relieved to know he didn’t always have to voice his thoughts or feelings. She just always knew. “Maybe a little,” he admitted reluctantly. “New territory and all. I’ve no experience in this area. I’ll muck things up eventually.”

                “Everybody mucks things up all the time. Do you think I have any idea what I’m doing?” she laughed. “We’ll be okay, I promise. It’s just a matter of learning our way together. I’m not saying that things won’t get difficult at times, but it’ll be okay, all the same.”

                Sherlock didn’t appear to be too convinced. “You really think so?”

                She smiled like she knew a secret he had yet to discover. “I know so.”

                Molly slid her hand to the back of his head and pulled him down gently, a warm touch of her lips, the tip of her tongue peeking out to part his. Molly placed her hand over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. She lightly touched her tongue with his, soon exploring his mouth. Goosebumps arose on her body when she felt his mouth leave hers to place kisses along her jaw, down her neck, her collarbone, the slight swell of her breasts. “Mmm, Sherlock…” Her toes curled against the sheets.

                This, she thought. This is how it feels to be truly loved. Molly let out a happy sigh, feeling the warm trail of his kisses along the curve of her shoulder as he made his way back up, stopping to meet her eyes. “Hello,” he smiled, satisfied at her pleasure.

                “Hi,” she breathed out, definitely not regretting her choice in sleepwear. This was the man she loved, the man she chose for herself, and it thrilled her to know he chose to love her too. Molly struggled to keep her eyes open, batting her lashes sleepily.

                Sherlock settled himself on his back and she settled her head on his chest, an arm thrown over his stomach. He held her tight, never wanting to let her go again, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep well, darling.”

                It was the last thing she heard before drifting off comfortably in his arms.

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: whew! Lots to say, lots to make up for! I hope you’re all still here? After a whole lot of life happenings, I finally set a hard deadline for myself to get this done and here it is (on my 23rd birthday no less, bc that’s exactly the type of motivation I need)

First of all, I’m so so sorry for leaving so suddenly and for so long. The short of it is a very bad mix of family tragedy, extra stuff at work, and then a quick health scare made finding time to write this year veerrryyy difficult. But I’m back!! And I promise, even if we can’t ever make it back to that 2 posts a week schedule (I mean, I’ll try my best!!!), I won’t abandon this story completely. I love it so much, I have so much still planned, and hopefully *peers out* if you’re all still here with me, you love and miss these lovesick dorks too. 

And thanks so much for the messages and comments in my absence too! They meant everything to me <3 

And so in true fanfic community fashion, and because I do believe you’ve all waited long enough: Enjoy this ~3K, mostly smut chapter as my apology. Also, the first bit is taken from a prompt by @mo-nighean-rouge about guys and their girlfriend’s scrunchies, so enjoy that too!

And thank you all again, for not giving up on me!

Claire’s probably not drunk, Jamie only knows one dance, and as always, the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think!

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Four: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Five: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Six: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eight: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Nine: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Ten: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eleven: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twelve: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Thirteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Fourteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] Part Fifteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Sixteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Seventeen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Eighteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Nineteen: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] | Part Twenty-Two: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] | Part Twenty-Three: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]

Part Twenty-Three: Timing | Chapter 5

“You’re like—really bad at this, huh?”

“I’m trying no’ to step on yer toes.”

“Ohhh,” Claire giggled, “Is that why we’re dancing on the off-beat?”

“Och, aye.” Even in the dim light of the hotel’s reception hall, he could already see the effects of her last few drinks painting her face in faint dustings of pink. “And it doesna help that ye’ve drank a bit more than I have.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, not disproving his statement in the slightest.

“I’m not drunk.”

“Never said ye were,” he chuckled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. “Though, ye’re skin’s a bit warm, lass. Are ye alright?”

“It’s these damn curls. It’s too bloody hot!” She sighed, stepping out of his arms to reach up and shake out her hair but losing her balance in the process.

He rushed to steady her, laughing shamelessly all the while – and even more so when he saw her thoroughly displeased expression.

“I’m fine,” she said before he could even open his mouth.

He nodded, definitely believing her as he released her waist and put his hands up in good faith.

With a great deal more care this time, she gathered her hair up and away from her neck with a huff.

Poor wee thing.

With little more than a flick of his wrist, he was holding out a hair tie to her.

She blinked once. Twice.

“What is that?”

“Christ lass, how much have ye had?”

A moment to enjoy her pout at him.

“No, I know what it is. Why do you have one, I mean.”

It was his turn to blink at her then.

“I always carry one for ye, ‘round my wrist in case ye need it.”

More and more, her reactions – or in this case, lack thereof – did nothing to refute his overall judgement of her inebriation. It was a full 9 seconds of a genuinely blank, only slightly baffled, expression; he counted.

“You what—?”

She shook her head, seemingly gathering some semblance of coherence as she cupped his cheeks with both hands and kissed him.

“You—” She tried again. “—are a god amongst men, James Fraser.”

He chuckled, his hand skimming the back of her neck as he returned the kiss in thanks.

“Shall I help ye wi’ that, mo chridhe?”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” she said over his insistence otherwise, pushing away from him and wobbling slightly on her heels.

Resigned and as irretrievably smitten as ever, he stepped around and let her back prop against his chest, steadying her by the waist as she tied her hair up.

The lights hanging above them changed into a soft blue haze as the raucous swing faded into something far gentler.

“Oh, we can do this one!” Claire said suddenly, turning in his arms and urging him to start swaying. Jamie, like so many other times since he met her, gladly let her lead.

He snaked his arms around her waist, sliding over the soft fabric hugging her hips as she smoothed her own hands past his shoulders and, tucking her head under his chin, draped her arms down his back.

She was right, it was no more a dance than the drunken stupor some of the bride’s relatives had already fallen into. Though just a touch more romantic, he supposed.

He held her close, feeling the calm rise and fall of her chest against his, as even and relaxed as it was right before sleep. Wholly vulnerable and entirely safe, just like he always felt with her.

A laugh floated above the music from across the room where Jamie could see Willie and his new bride feeding cake to each other. The fairy lights delicately hung around the hall cast the newlyweds in a soft glow and Jamie felt like he was watching the end of a movie, except that he knew – had countless childhood memories – with the leading man.

Willie was the youngest of his extended cousins, just a year younger than Jamie himself, and Jamie easily recalled the image of a much smaller, pudgier version of the groom stumbling to catch up with Rupert and Angus as they jaunted around the grounds of Lallybroch every summer.

Jamie didn’t know the bride though. As frequently as their childhoods intersected, he and Willie were never close enough to share much about their personal lives save the informal summer catch-up. Willie had met her at school in America; a point well-discussed, if discreetly, by nearly every relative he’d spoken to today, plus Jenny whom always swears she’s not a gossip immediately before proving herself wrong.

She seemed lovely though, with a big laugh that filled the room and – as far as Jamie could see as he held Claire and watched the dessert table – lit up Willie’s eyes like the child Jamie remembered. Of course, the Mackenzies were steeped in tradition and no stranger to gossip, he mused, whether it be a foreign girl marrying the clan’s youngest son or—

He stopped himself too late and swallowed the thought the same way he reigned back the tension that rushed to his fist

—or a lifelong farm boy marrying the clan’s only daughter.

He flexed his fingers and opened his palm onto the small of Claire’s back, pulling her closer to erase the tension completely.

Not that it mattered in the slightest, but he did wonder whether to expect the same kind of discreet – or even brazen – disdain from the Mackenzies for Claire if—

When—

Then an entirely different thought supplanted and overrode everything else.

She moved against his chest slowly, then pushed back to look up at him and only then he realized he had said her name out loud.

---

He was staring at her again, in that unnerving way that presented his thoughts to her, his emotions, just past a veil of inscrutability. Like he himself wasn’t sure he wanted her to know the sheer depth of whatever storm was brewing behind his blue eyes.

More often than not, she wasn’t on the receiving end of this mask. At least, not without pretense. The last time she could really recall not being able to divine his thoughts was their anniversary spent huddled under a blanket in the estate’s backyard.

“What is it?”

“I—” He wet his lips, swallowed, and Claire watched carefully. Watched how his eyes looked straight at hers, and yet seemed as though they were seeing so much more than what was right in front of him.

She waited, 8 full bars of music before he chuckled and shook his head. His warm hand at her back pressed their bodies together and he flexed his fingertips into her skin as his head bent to her ear.

“Ye look absolutely stunning in that dress, mo chridhe.”

Something inside Claire deflated, but she smiled nevertheless as her shoulders released some unwarranted tension.

“Finally found your words, have you?” she said, butting his nose with hers.

“Aye, I have.” He lowered his voice to a soft rumble that Claire could feel pressed up against his chest. “I lost them for a moment, in that mystery of a bra ye’re wearing.”

She stifled a giggle into his shoulder.

“I’m serious, Sassenach,” he went on. “Just how in hell is it holding everything together?”

“Double-sided tape, and a prayer?” she offered, pulling back slightly to peer up at him from under her lashes, and lowering her tone to match his. “Of course, you’re welcome to find out for yourself.”

She felt his repressed groan travel up to his throat, and saw vestiges of that same sentiment in the narrow and quite incendiary glare he gave her.

Now it was her turn to wet her lips.

Then the spell was broken. He tutted at her, tilting his head to one side slightly as if sizing her up.

“’Such a shame, lass,” he tutted at her, “As drunk as ye are—”

“What?” She blinked at him. “No, I told you I’m not drunk, Jamie.”

“Aye, ye are,” he insisted with a shrug. His voice was casual but his eyes, Claire could see, were sending her a different message entirely. “It’s really too bad but, I guess we’ll have to get ye back to the hotel room, aye? As soon as possible.”

Understanding bloomed as quickly on her face as his air of aloofness dissipated. 

“Well,” she said, trying in vain not to mirror his wide grin. “I suppose if you think so.”

“I do,” he said softly, squeezing her hand in his.

In 30 minutes’ time, they had made their obligatory rounds of congratulations and goodbyes, narrowly avoided Jenny’s insinuating remarks, and piled themselves into a cab.

And 25 minutes after that, Claire had Jamie pressed into a hallway wall with her fingers systematically mussing his once perfectly groomed hair.

“Sass—mm—Sassenach!” he struggled between her relentless lips. “We havena—gotten to the room yet.”

He had been right, goddamn him. Claire was just tipsy enough to feel uninhibited. Her blood was boiling, and she couldn’t find it in herself to give two shits about any guests that might decide on an after-midnight stroll through the hall.

She bit his lower lip and revelled in his groan, lathing it over with her tongue as one hand left his hair and travelled downward to untuck his shirt.

He caught her wrist and pulled gently on her hair, making her whimper in protest. 

“Ja—Ah!”

Claire suddenly felt her feet leave the ground as Jamie threw her bodily over his shoulder.

“Jamie! Jamie, put me down!” She was dangling over him helplessly and began to pummel her fists into his back and kick her legs to no avail.

“Keep still, lass,” he laughed, pressing a quick kiss to the fabric-covered arse situated right next to his cheek. “Or ye’ll kill me ‘afore we get to the room.”

“Likely!”

She wriggled against him all the way to their door, finally stilling as she heard the telltale beep of their key-card lock.

Achingly slow, Jamie let her slide down his front and they both inhaled sharply when her leg brushed up against the length of him.

One breath.

The click of the door handle.

Another breath.

Then the world turned on its axis and Claire found herself pressed into the other side of their door, her eyes only briefly taking in the sight of their hotel room before they closed in rippled pleasure as Jamie sunk his teeth into her collarbone.

“Christ,” he murmured into her skin as his lips travelled lower. “I’ll have to go to confession for all the thoughts I had of ye during the ceremony.”

His stubble scratched at the soft skin between her breasts and she arched into him, turning any remark she might have had for him into a sweeping gasp.

Her arm rose to tug at her straps, but Jamie caught her wrist and pinned it to the door just above her head, pressing himself harder into her as his knee slid between her legs.

“No lass. Keep it on.”

The deep rumble of his voice shot straight to her core and she rocked shamelessly onto his insinuating knee. That familiar ache between her legs was getting more urgent by the second and she knew it could take one quick turn of her heel to have him on the floor, hers to ride. But—

“I have to—Wait—” She gasped, at war with herself as she pushed Jamie back by the shoulder.

Jamie came back up immediately, searching her eyes for whatever was wrong, but she shook her head.

“You did want to see how this bra works, and I’d much rather have it off anyway.”

She wiggled her hand until he released her wrist and took one step back, his other hand never leaving her waist as he watched her pull the straps down past her chest.

“You’ve gotta untie the—”

He understood and began loosening the ties between both pads. Slowly, methodically. She watched his brow furrow as he mentally worked out the strapless, backless contraption for himself.

The strings came loose, and Claire heaved a full-chested sigh of relief. One that quickly turned into a squeak as Jamie’s finger lightly traced the outline of the pad.

The curious quirk in his eyebrow suddenly felt all the more erotic as he closed his eyes, bent his head to the side of one breast, and slowly pulled at the adhesive, lathing the irritated skin with his tongue as more and more of it was revealed to him.

Now Claire’s breath came in short spurts. Her head fell back, and her hands came up to thread in his hair as he massaged and kissed and nuzzled his way across her chest.

Finally, he peeled off the last bit of adhesive, stopping to give the contraption one last look before casually tossing it over his shoulder. Then, very gently, he replaced the straps at her shoulders and pressed a delicate kiss to each.

A gesture Claire would otherwise find heartbreakingly sweet, had his previous work not rendered her heaving and near-sobbing with her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

When he at last came up to meet her eye, two equally molten stares dared each other to move.

“I told ye I wanted to take ye in that dress.”

She rose on her toes, closing what little space they had left between them to butt her nose against his.

“So take me then.”

His mouth was on hers in an instant, her head thudding softly against the door as his whole body enveloped her, consumed her like the fire she’d willingly walk with him into.

The heat of his palms felt like it was searing through the fabric as his hands skimmed up her thighs, bunching the dress up around her hips. With few words but so much more between them, she kicked off her heels to wrap her legs around his hips.

Lightning darted through her as she rubbed against his hard length on her ascent, and Jamie groaned into her hair. Very much liking the sound, and more so revelling in the knowledge that he was as helpless in her arms as she was in his, she pressed her back into the door and rolled against him again.

His jaw clenched, his fingers pressing into her hips as he took long and measured breaths, and Claire was elated, alight with renewed desire.

And very likely as intoxicated as he’d thought she was. Not that she’d admit that to him.

In a flurry of moans and blind stumbles, she felt her back finally hit the mattress as her legs dangled off its side. Jamie’s hands on her hips pulled her closer to the edge, once again bunching up the dress, and she was lost in a haze until she felt the tickling of Jamie’s hair and stubble against her inner thighs.

“Fuck,” she swore as Jamie ran one finger down her panties. He hooked that same finger under the cloth and pulled at it slowly.

“You should be off to confession after this as well, lass,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose and chin back up her legs.

“Oh shut up and—” The last of that sentence was lost in a gasp as his tongue prodded gently against her inner folds. His hand, which had since been drawing meaningless patterns on the back of her knee, travelled up to spread her legs further apart just as he pressed the flat of his tongue onto her core.

Her hips bucked up off the bed then with a sharp groan and she could feel the bloody bastard smirking as he brought his other arm down across her waist to keep her steady.

Her teeth were nearly puncturing her bottom lip as she tangled her fingers into Jamie’s hair and pulled.

Placing a kiss just under her navel, he rose up to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Ready, I’m—” she started, trying to speak and refill her lungs at the same time. “I need you. Now.”

The look he gave thoroughly erased all her hard work as her breath rushed out of her again. He stood straight, eyes never leaving hers, as he made quick work of his belt.

“Ye dinna have any idea what you look like right now,” he said, voice thick with feeling.

The more pragmatic side of Claire’s mind – wherever it was at the moment – could take an easy stab at the thought; dishevelled and sloppy, and in an alarming state of undress. But she knew – and frankly, could see – Jamie’s mind was decidedly somewhere else.

“Spread out like that, Sassenach.” She could feel the deep timbre of his voice leaving goosebumps up her arms. “Waiting for me, wi’ yer hair all mussed and yer chest heaving—Christ—I’d gladly burn in Hell just for the privilege of seeing ye’ so.”

She inched herself further onto the bed as he finally bent to join her, pulling away just slightly as he leaned in to kiss her.

She smirked.

He rumbled.

“Tease.”

In less than a breath, she was lost in insistent lips and warm, roaming hands steadily making their way downwards until, like all her cells converging onto a fixed point, she felt his thick cock press into her.

“Mmmgh—Jamie!”

Instinctively, she hooked one leg around his hip and gasped greedily for air as he buried his head into her neck.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, dancing to the only choreographed rhythm she knew Jamie had memorized, a timing and movement he could never get wrong as he answered every twist and curve and grind with his own. Keeping in time with a single heartbeat shared between them. 

Moans and sighs accented their growing crescendo, higher and higher as he pushed in deeper, faster, until Claire crested. Her back arched off the bed, feeling weightless and shapeless, if only to better mould her body to his as she shattered around him and carried him off with her.

By the time Claire opened her eyes again – minutes or hours after – Jamie was peacefully snoozing beside her, his lips in a wide smile that tugged sharply at her heart. With eyes firmly shut, he reached, found, and tucked her neatly under his chin with a content hum.

“Jamie…?” she whispered. One bold hand came up to smooth down his hair, all the while waiting for his eyes to open.

When they didn’t, Claire snuggled closer into him, pressing a soft kiss at the base of his neck.

She hadn’t forgotten, even through the haze of alcohol and everything that followed.

“Jamie?” she tried again, louder, to no response.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stared at her like that, back at the reception, though she hoped the next time he did, it would be the last.

She smiled, comforted in the fact that whenever it happened to be, it was one of the few things in her life that was inevitable. She could – and would – safely let the tide deliver her there with the utmost faith in its certainty.

“It’s already a yes,” she said softly, into the night, “all you have to do is ask.”

[End of Part 23]

Read Part 24