#they care about each other so much i could cry

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[clare-875]

Hey Clare😙 love your writing so much! Could I request a shanks x jealous!reader, where the reader feels as though their love for is unrequited due to shanks’ many flings (but it’s actually not)? Thank u so much, muah!❤️

Envy (Shanks x Reader)

Pairing: Shanks x Female Reader Warnings: Jealous reader, harassment, alcohol, angst/fluff A/N: I'm so glad you like my stories <3 I hope you enjoy this one! [One Piece Masterlist]

There he goes again.

You watch your Captain from where you sit in a dimly lit bar, lips pulled into a tight frown. The feeling bubbles up within you before filling you so much, you could suffocate. Jealousy. Shanks has a wide grin on his face as once again, beautiful women gravitate towards the red-haired man. Who wouldn't? Your Captain, who was so powerful and skilled he upheld the status of an emperor. Your Captain, the famous leader of the Red-Haired Pirates. Your Captain, so charismatic and charming and frustratingly attractive. You let out a deep, decrepit sigh.

Why did you have to fall for him?

He has an arm wrapped loosely around a blond-haired woman with a model-like body, cradling a drink in his other hand. Two more women sit by him and linger, fighting for his attention. You can faintly hear them laugh at something he said in the distance. Gritting your teeth, you force your gaze to the drink in your hand, swirling it periodically like it could help the turmoil you feel now. It had been the same cycle over and over the past few months, with Shanks flirting and bringing a woman to bed each night you were ashore. Then, that same woman would leave the next morning, his form nowhere to be seen.

With his flings came his distance.

He could barely meet your gaze the following day, and it had felt like there was a greater space between you since his cycle of women had started. It hurt you. Not only because the man you were in love with paid more attention to someone who wasn't yourself, but because he didn't even seem to care about the women he brought to his bed. You felt as though he cherished time with faceless women more than you. You thought the two of you had been friends, maybe even inkling to the beginnings of something more. Countless times have you stayed up late, talking about your dreams. Countless times have you drunk and danced together, laughing uncontrollably. Countless times had you bantered, and smiled and gazed at the other.

All for it to be suddenly lost. Like you hadn't meant anything to him.

This one-sided love, his carelessness. You had been holding out hope that maybe he would look to you like he used to all those months ago. But now you start to see that it is getting helpless, and you feel like you are going crazy. He had entrapped you in your feelings. You knew you had to move on - you can't bear this a second longer - you just didn't know if you could. Faint tears sting your eyes but you force them away. You can't cry for him anymore.

"Hey, you alright?"

Your eyes travel upwards are you are met with the knowing gaze of Benn Beckham. "You know he's an idiot right?" Maybe it was the way he too, was good with women and frequently brought them to bed, but he had somehow seen so clearly that Shanks's flings were getting to you. Maybe you hadn't been hiding your feelings well enough, but you could barely care anymore. "I'm fine Benn, I'm just gonna go get another drink." You smile to the best of your ability and leave him be, walking up to the bartender, hoping you could just drink your troubles away.

It is your turn to order when a man approaches you.

"Hey, I'll get that for you." The voice of a stranger reaches your ears and you look up surprised to see a man offering to pay for the drink you ordered. You weren't necessarily scarse of men approaching you, but you hadn't found the courage to pursue anything amid your feelings for Shanks. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time for a change. "Thank you." You try to push your inner turmoil aside and force your lingering gaze away from your Captain. "No problem." The man is surprisingly attractive, and a polite smile reaches the corners of your face.

His gaze holds keen interest. "You know, you caught my eye the minute you walked in." You smile at the man's sudden boldness, raising a brow as you hold your drink in one hand. "Really?" He grins wide at your amusement. "You don't happen to have a boyfriend, do you?" You feel your heart tug sharply in your chest at his words and suddenly you're fighting a frown. You spare one last glance at your Captain. He was distracted by the woman under his arm and grinning wide. Your eyes dart back to the man in front of you waiting expectantly.

"No, there's no one in my life."

Moments pass well enough, and the man who sits in front of you is nice at least. He just wasn't the man you wanted. Maybe moving on wasn't that easy. You smile and nod and listen intently, you shake your head and pitch into conversation. But soon, you fight a yawn as he speaks mainly of himself and his glory, barely showing the interest he claimed to have had in you. What's more, you realise his boldness quickly, as he closes the space between you with each minute that passes. Maybe it wasn't interest you saw earlier in his eyes, but lust. The smile you keep on your face starts to strain against your skin.

"Hey," your gaze snaps forward as you realise you have been lost in your thoughts, most likely looking into the void. The man in front of you doesn't seem to notice, however, as there is no change in his attitude. "Do you wanna get out of here?" His hand reaches out to touch your thigh, and you suddenly feel ill. You see it then so clearly, that he simply wanted you in his bed from the beginning, most likely to be discarded the morning after. What was it with men these days? You try to maintain your composure and you reach for the hand that touches your skin, removing it promptly from your thigh.

"Actually, I'm good thanks."

You go to stand, placing an empty glass on the counter. "This was nice," you say, "but I should go now." As you move, however, his hand that lingers reaches for your arm. You freeze at the contact, but he is all up in your space again, and his sudden actions take you back. "What-" But he interrupts moving closer to your face. "I don't think so, sweetheart. I like what I see. I want to see where this goes..." A frown instantly marks your face, as your blood pumps hot within you. Does he know who he's talking to? Yes, you may seem like any other woman at the bar, but you were a pirate. A pirate on an Emporer's crew. "Why, you-"

"What's going on here?"

The man freezes. There is darkness that fills the air along with the suddenly dangerous atmosphere. A figure looms behind you.

"I- I-," the man drops your arm instantly, stuttering as fear creeps up on his features. Who wouldn't in the face of an emperor? You don't turn, but you know it is Shanks who stands behind you, and his sharp eyes are trained on where the man had touched your skin. Though you do not see, Shank's face morphs into one of unusual, pure fury. It has the man in front of you basically falling to your feet. "Get out of here." Your Captain's words are spoken low and he places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back into him.

The man all but runs from your side.

There is a tension that lingers in the aftermath, but it is broken by your movements, shrugging off Shanks's hand. There is a brief silence that follows. "I was fine." Your words are muttered softly, and there is a pain that lingers in your chest. Why did it have to be he who came? Didn't he know how painful this was for you already? Shanks watches your darkened expression carefully and lets out a deep sigh. "Look [y/n], I won't stop you from pursuing guys but at least pick better ones-" You turn as your facade cracks, bringing forth anger.

"You're the last person I need to hear that from Shanks. Why don't you go back to your little group, I'm sure they're missing you."

Shanks freezes under the weight of your glare and sharp words. He had never seen you look at him in such a way. You fight your emotions as you look at the surprise in your Captain's face, and you move. You need air, there was no oxygen in this bar and it felt like you were suffocating. "Wait, [y/n]-" But you don't stop, you were tired and hurt and envy filled your senses. Why couldn't he see how much you loved him? Why can't he see how much he hurts you?

"[y/n]!"

Finally feeling like you can breathe in the crisp evening air, Shanks has caught up to you before barely a moment passes. "[y/n], is there something wrong?" His words are what make you break completely. With alcohol still burning in your system and your raging feelings, you finally let it spill. A laugh of disbelief escapes you. "Wrong? You're really asking me if something's wrong Shanks, now?!" Shanks watches wide-eyed as you eye him with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"You've barely spoken to me, let alone looked at me these past few weeks! You have a new woman in your bed every other day! There's nothing here anymore. What happened to friendship? What happened to-" You pause, realising you've spoken too much of your mind, but Shanks's eyes only widen further in surprise. "I liked you, Shanks. I actually thought you-" A tear slips from your eye that you wipe harshly from your cheek, turning away. But Shanks reacts before you can take a single step, and a hand holds you to him before you are engulfed in his embrace.

You struggle in his arms, tears now pouring as you tell him to let you go. "I don't want your pity Shanks! Go! You have people waiting for you inside-" But Shanks doesn't budge an inch, instead all that fills him is utter regret, and shame, and pain. All this time, you liked him too? All this time he had spent trying to push his feelings aside with nameless women, only to feel deep remorse when he saw your face the next morning. All this time he had pushed away your friendship, and the inkling of something more. He had pushed you away because, for the first time, the Red-Haired Shanks were scared. Scared of losing you.

He was a coward.

"Shanks-" The red-haired Emporer can feel his heart clench against his chest at your words to leave you be, but he can't let you go. He won't let you go, he doesn't think he can bear your absence any longer. What torture had he put the both of you through, for no reason at all but his stupidity? Would you even forgive him? "[y/n]... I'm sorry." You freeze suddenly at his words, feeling your heart drop even further within you. Of course, here it comes, the rejection. But Shanks's words are beyond what you thought they would be.

"I like you too... no, I'm in love with you." You feel your breath caught in your throat as you start to shake your head against his chest, fighting to move from his arms once more. "Liar! Then what about all those women you slept with! You wouldn't even look at me-" Shanks quickly interrupts before you spill your words once more. "I thought that pushing you away would make the feeling fade. All those women, they were part of that too. But, [y/n], they're nothing compared to you. Believe me." Shanks finally releases you from his embrace and you scramble back a few steps watching his pleading expression with wide eyes.

"Forgive me."

You meet his burning red eyes with trepidation, but all you see is his sincerity, his regret. You are utterly speechless. Shanks was in love with you? Shanks returned your feelings? You move forward, anger suddenly filling you as you move closer and you swing, one punch right into his chest. Shanks doesn't move or flinch, he merely takes the brunt of your attack though it barely does anything to the emperor. "You, you're telling the truth?" Your words are spoken as though still unsure, and you let your arm fall to your side. Shanks observes your darkened expression, but his remorse does nothing to fade.

"Yes."

One step forward, followed by another, you move once more. Holding the collar of his shirt you pull him down to you with what strength you can muster, and suddenly your lips are on his. Shanks stops in surprise but is quick to pull you close to him and return your fervour. The kiss is angry and passionate and all you had dreamt it would be. Your hands move deep into his hair, and his arms wind themselves around your waist. You feel his warmth and want against you. When you part, it is only because you need a breath.

"You're stupid."

You speak low, but with the lingering joy that fills your senses. You had kissed him.

"You were jealous."

Shanks retorts, murmuring his words into your skin, but you don't miss the teasing undertone. You frown, hitting him lightly in mock irritation. "Shanks, do you really want to be-" But he quickly cuts you off with another kiss to your lips.

"I still haven't forgiven you, you know."

Shanks leans his head against yours, finally content.

"I know."

Let's just say the following weeks are spent with Shanks bending to your every will and want. It takes a while for you to get over the flings that put a gap between the two of you, but soon you forgave him. He couldn't be happier with you by his side. You were all he wanted, and all he could ever want.

[not-rigel]

The color Blue

warnings: SAD, I cried writing this, sevika mourning isha, descriptions of grief

WC: 830

Sevika is sitting in her office, sifting through documents when theres a knock at her door. She grants whoever is there entry. They enter the room carrying a package, it's an expensive looking box and Sevika rolls her eyes at how gaudy it looks. Leave it to Piltover to make their packages fancy for no good reason.

"From the Kirraman estate,"  the delivery person tells her. She hasn't interacted with Caitlyn in months, not since they fought deep in the underground. The arrival of a package puzzles her. But she's had too a long day of failing to agree with the other councilmembers to care too much about anything right now.

Sevika nods to a chair, "Set it over there."

The delivery person sets the box onto the chair then hurriedly leaves the room. Sevika resumes reading over the documents until her eyes hurt and her head aches. She was questioning her strength, how much longer she could handle councilors barring her progress whenever they could. Everytime she felt she was making strides in securing Zaun's future, they'd band against her and dismiss her proposals. She could handle their looks of disgust, she could handle when they mentioned her past with Silco, but she couldn't handle the pressure. She has to do something right by her people or what was the point in being a councilor at all?

Sevika shoves all the papers from her desk, dispirited from all her recent failures. She was so alone and she was falling apart all over again, just like when Silco died. She shoves the emotion down, not allowing herself to feel it until she was ready to unbox it.

Sevika looks over at the package, thinking that she might need the distraction. She leaves her desk, walking over to the chair the box in sat in. She has some trouble getting it open, only having one arm. She can't wear her mechanical arm while up Topside, it's been considered a weapon and banned.

Eventually the package breaks open and what's inside breaks her. Her entire body is uncomfortably hot, like someone replaced all her blood with lightning. Inside the box was Isha's little hat. It was more tattered and torn than it was the last time she saw it. Gods, what did her little baby go through? Tucked next to her hat, was a letter. 

Sevika plucks the letter from the box, unfolding the paper to read the contents.

"I went back to where it happened. Not that I could change anything but just to remember. I ended up finding this and I couldn't just leave it there. I'm sorry I couldnt save her. I heard what she is to you so maybe you need this more than I do.

-Vi"

The note begins to blur then Sevika realizes she is crying. Her tears continue to obscure her vision and wet the letter, smudging the words. She tries to wipe them away with her wrist but new tears replace them immediately.

She can't do this right now, can't have these emotions. She can't breathe. Each word on the paper, each feeling she shoved below her chest came back without permission to choke her. They wrapped their fingers around her throat and wouldn't let go, no matter how much she scratched at then. She needs to fight this off, needs to survive the threat trying to kill her.

Sevika throws her body around, throws anything she can grab. There's no point in it, just run and push and shove until the grief releases its chokehold. But it's not letting go. She can't hear the bookshelf crashing onto the floor, just sees her hand shoving item after item. This usually worked, why wasn't it working this time?

The grief weakens her and she sinks into the floor, not able to stop the tears. It's the worst pain she's felt. But as soon as she lays on the floor, grabbing Isha's hat from where she left it and holds it to her chest, the grief stops choking her. Instead it hugs her back. Isha was too sweet, too beautiful.

Sevika reminisced the moments they had together. Where Isha would fall asleep in her arms, head resting on her shoulder. When Sevika would tease Isha for practically being Jinx's shadow. How Isha mimicked Sevika, making a little cardboard arm to fit over her own and they'd playfight.

Sevika is so proud of Isha but so angry that she was so familiar with violence. Sevika tried all she could to keep her away from it. But that little girl couldnt stay away. Or maybe violence couldnt stay away from her. Maybe violence chased Isha until peace took her.

Sevika forgets time as she remembers Isha for the first time, thinking of every beautiful thing that little girl was. Isha was the color blue. Isha was little rabbit ears. Isha was a head nuzzling into her shoulder. Isha was the reason Sevika fought. Isha is the reason Sevika fights.

[ostaramoon]

lovebird  ➹ dean winchester

【 pairing 】 dean x angel!reader / cupid!reader 【 summary 】 you’re a cupid, you can’t help the natural call to make two beings fall in love. even if it means bringing critters into the bunker when no ones looking.  【 cw 】 fluff, spn lore on cupids is bland so yes i’m adding to it, grumpy x sunshine trope 【 wordcount 】 1.3k

the bunker had been under a quiet hum for quite some time now, sam in the library organizing and filing while dean sat in the war room looking for cases. the older winchester had nearly forgotten about the little angel cas left in their care a few weeks ago. a cupid, to be precise. 

at first he absolutely refused, claimed they weren’t a daycare for heaven’s flight crew. but cas, being a busy man, simply left the brothers standing in the bunker with a smiley little cherub. unlike most angels dean has met, you were sickeningly sweet, incredibly helpless at times, and though he would never admit it— adorable, too. 

you tried to be helpful, like quietly stepping in to do the chores sam and dean argued over. but it’s not like you really knew what you were doing. like the time dean tiredly shuffled into the kitchen one morning, opening the cupboard to find bacon, milk, and eggs stashed in there. when he started on an angry roll of name calling, it was your tear filled eyes and pouty lips that made him shut up quick. that afternoon was spent teaching you what food goes in the fridge. 

or the time you tried to fix up the impala, completely unaware that spray paint doesn’t cover up scratches. when dean strolled into the garage, expecting to take a sweet sunday joy ride just to find his baby had been vandalised, his shouts damn near shook the entire bunker. when he found you with paint stained fingertips and that pathetic wobbly lip, his anger dissipated. you settled on a promise to never under any circumstances ever touch baby again. 

now, as he sits before the glow of sam’s laptop, the quiet begins to feel entirely unsettling. he leaves his spot, heading for the library. when he doesn’t see you taking on your usual little helper tasks with sam his brows furrow. 

“have you seen the little bird?” 

sam looks up from his pile of books and paper, “no,” he shrugs, “i thought she was with you.”

that damn cupid is up to something, he thinks to himself. 

with a sigh dean turns, setting off to sweep the bunker. the kitchen is quiet, empty. at least the food is safe he assures himself. heading down stairs into the hall of bedrooms he finds your room empty as well. as he heads towards the dungeon, the last place he’d expect you as you once described it as dark and spooky, a muffled giggle stops him in his tracks. 

he waits, listening, as he hears it again coming from sam’s bedroom. he quietly approaches the door, gently pushing it open to find you kneeling on the ground with your back to the door. 

“what the hell are you doing, lovebird?” he crosses the room, standing over you and what he can now see to be a pair of brown fluffy rabbits. 

startled, you look up at him with wide eyes, “nothing.” you smile. his heart does that stupid little flutter that seems to only happen when you smile at him like that. all sweet with a pinch of mischief. 

“right,” his brows knit together as he points at the rabbits, “this is nothing?” 

a little humph leaves your lips as you rise to your feet, crossing your arms and looking up at dean with a determined scowl across your face, “i’m matchmaking, if you must know. these two have been hopping around outside for days and i could practically smell how much they need each other.” 

he looks between you and the critters a few times, “yeah, no, we’re not doing this. no rabbits— no animals of any kind allowed in the bunker.”

 his heart pangs as you jut out your bottom lip, eyes growing glossy. damn this pathetically cute little thing. his hands instinctively cup your face, “hey, hey, lovebird. no crying, remember?” his voice gruff, barely masking his annoyance.

you sniffle, biting your cheek to stop the tears brimming your lashes. you can’t always help the crying, cupids are naturally empathetic creatures with no qualms about showing their emotions. dean thumbs your cheeks, giving a light squeeze to one side. 

“but i’m a cupid!” you cry out, “i can’t help wanting to help them fall in love.” 

“rabbits don’t fall in love!” he drops his hands from your face, trying to find his words despite the absurdity of yours. “they mate, like the saying, ‘mate like rabbits’ there's no love happening here.” 

you stare up at him, wiping stray tears as some terrible thought makes your face turn sour. “so, like you?” your voice reflects the absolute devastation you feel at the realization. 

“oh what now?” dean groans.

“they’re like you! mating with no love.” you whimper. it’s no secret dean moves about women with everything except love. it was one of the first things you noticed about him, a spider's web of potential love stories that never takes because he’s swatting them away before anything divine can happen. you could have easily fixed this, but something about dean getting sweet with another woman makes your heart feel heavy. besides, dean asked you specifically not to matchmake with humans while you were on earth. so, the itch to use your skills was killing you and a perfectly innocent set of rabbits happened to be right outside the bunker. 

dean shoots you an incredulous look before shaking his head, “alright, i’m gunna pretend you didn’t just say that, little bird. we’re getting these things out. now.” he brushes past you, reaching for the rabbits far too slowly and aggressively, making them scurry off in opposite directions. 

“great!” you shout, “you scared them! now they’ll never even mate!” you drop to your knees, cooing gently at the fluff hiding underneath the bed. 

dean paces behind you, eyes squeezed shut as he musters up all the patience in the world, “hold on,” he stops abruptly, tilting his head to you, “why are you in sam’s room?” 

a shy smile finds your lips at you meet his quizzical gaze, “sam doesn’t say no nearly as often as you do. i thought if he saw how cute the bunnies are, he’d be on my side and i’d get to keep them and their love babies.” 

as much as dean would love to think your words fill him with nothing but anger and annoyance, your innocently sharp manipulation is rather fascinating. you were right, sam doesn’t like to say no and he was more fond of having pets than his older brother is, but dean would have put an end to this little scheme one way or another. 

as you lie half under the bed now, reaching for one of the rabbits, dean notices the little black droppings peppering the room. sam’s room.

“actually, lovebird,” he smirks, “why don’t we leave those two alone for a bit, see if your matchmaking skills really can work on the wildlife.” 

your excitement at his words makes you scramble off of the ground, peering up at him with a hopeful smile, “really? you think it’ll work?” 

“mhm,” he grins, stealing your hand in his, “let’s give ‘em some space, i’ll watch that reality show you love and let you tell me which ones are fated souls and all that cupid stuff you talk about.” 

➹

you sat with your legs crossed on the couch, dean beside you with a beer in hand and an amused grin as you raddled off all the little quirks that are tell-tale signs of a cupid’s work. on the other side of the bunker there's a clunk of commotion that startles you, but dean hardly reacts, his grin morphing into a satisfied smirk. 

“what was that?” you grab dean’s arm, shuffling closer to him.

“give it a sec.” he responds cooly. within seconds sam is stomping into the room, bewildered and clearly annoyed. 

“why,” he huffs, “are there rabbits shitting all over my room?” 

“oh no.” you whimper, sinking deeper into the couch, hiding your head under dean’s arm. 

“the little angel brought you a gift, sammy,” the older winchester let’s out an uncontrollable laugh, watching his frazzled brother with pure amusement, “don’t you just love it?” 

y'all i am not used to writing without angst or an emotional overtone so pls lmk if this sucks lol

[extremely-judgemental]

This is the last time I talk about Elain (hopefully!). I honestly don’t understand where you’re getting the idea that she is sweet. Elain is polite, like ‘my neighbour is nice to me’ sort of way. That doesn’t warrant how everyone puts her on a pedestal.

Her actions are mostly glossed over as self-preservation, but that doesn’t seem right to describe her behaviour either. At least, not in a sympathetic way. I'm sure there’s going to be an overload of trauma to justify this, because how can SJM’s heroines have mere mediocre problems when they can be abused or have lost a loved one?

I digress. Ever since Nesta’s grooming came to light, the same is assumed about Elain—that she’s groomed to be ‘nice’. That’s not entirely true. Their mother and grandmother focus on Nesta because getting the eldest married well will bring more prospects for the other two. In their mother’s words, Elain needn’t worry because she is a born beauty, and so she is not trained in courtliness or politics. And, Feyre has enough liberty to lock herself in their father’s office. As a middle child, Elain chooses the ‘nice’ mask because it’s what gets her attention in a family full of stubborn heads—her mother, her grandmother, her sisters.

During their poverty years, even if she could do chores, it’s hard to believe Nesta let her given how much she coddles Elain. And, Feyre treats her like a fragile doll. Elain essentially enjoys the best of both worlds like her father without contributing much to the family. She benefits heavily from her sisters’ animosity against each other—she’s the kind one while the other is the bitch. She’s also quick to secure a marriage alliance right after they regain their wealth. This isn’t to say it wasn’t out of love, but the plot is set in somewhat medieval times, where the order in which the sisters marry is crucial—Elain already wed before the eldest leaves a mark on Nesta’s reputation, making it difficult for her to find suitors.

Elain goes her entire life without being blamed or hated by her family, or even the IC. To have gone through all those struggles, having done literally nothing, and still cherished by everyone? Kindness doesn’t buy you that kind of a pass. It’s not her fault that everyone puts her first, but it’s the result of the image she actively cultivates to achieve her means.

This is why the paintbrushes don’t hold much value either. She doesn’t make Feyre’s life easier or take away some of the burdens, but gives her presents and everything is okay between them? This comes off like love-bombing to me—making Feyre feel special so that Elain isn’t the villain. Which worked, as Nesta is the one called ungrateful. When you’re struggling and someone offers you a bit of joy and relief, it is impactful, and Elain’s gesture could have been that if she had contributed to the family. But now, it comes off as manipulation.

And here’s my issue with her betrayal in Silver Flames. No one gives two fucks about what she thinks is best for Nesta. The IC won’t sit around and wait till she’s convinced. If she decides to lock herself in her room and cry again, only Feyre might care a little. Until then, she’s never included in any major decisions and she’s too perceptive to not notice this. She doesn’t even have to side with Nesta, but to pack her things to send her away?

She even goes on to throw in a ‘you don’t have to be miserable’ when Nesta is being imprisoned with a man. Imagine Elain trapped with Lucien to get her out of her funk. Feyre violated Lucien’s mind when he asked for a few minutes alone with her. They were chaperoned by the entire family for one simple tea. Clearly, Elain is not so stupid as to not know what she’s implying. She lets Nesta suffer not out of self-preservation but because she, like Feyre, believes Nesta is hopeless.

Later, she manipulates Nesta into scrying and insults her in front of everyone who hates her. She blames her ‘invisibility’—she crafted for herself—on others. It isn’t about her owning her life, because she could have done the scrying right away without that conversation with Nesta. And it’s not about protecting herself from the IC. Her outburst felt more like her resentment, that she couldn’t handle losing her shield.

There are many who want Elain to stand up to the IC, but the thing is, she has no reason to. When none of her actions are held against her, what would she fight for? The IC’s behaviour is borderline psychotic with Nesta to prove she wouldn’t be welcomed into the family unless she becomes reputable enough to be Feyre’s sister and Cassian’s mate. In Elain’s case, she is already forgiven and accepted.

Though it still falls under the broad term, her self-preservation carries heavy undertones of selfishness and manipulation. It is not even a survival response triggered under pressure. Most of her life, Elain never has to make big choices. She always gets what she wants without lifting a finger. No responsibility at home, more attention from family, the only one to receive her father’s love, her engagement to Graysen, going to Graysen for help, being left alone during the battles, having her own gardens in Velaris, learning to cook, leading a simple life, to be away from Lucien, pursuing Azriel. When exactly is she ever denied in the first place to preserve her happiness?

Also, Elain is definitely not a helpless doe. She is an opportunist. Her ‘kindness’ is a mask to escape scrutiny from others when she neglects her responsibilities. It serves her too since ‘Elain is Elain’.

And that’s fine because these flaws add layers to her character and there’s room for growth. But when the narrative ignores them and paints her as an angel because it supports the glorified hero, that is wrong. We see it happen with Feyre, Rhysand, and the Inner Circle. Elain is underdeveloped, yet she shows prominent traits at major plot points and still is considered ‘sweet’. At this rate, she’s just going to be another bland cutout who can never do anything wrong and is universally loved (like Feyre).

On the other hand, all this masking, the cunning, and the pettiness are great agents for her obvious future bonding with Rhysand who is quite similar. But her true nature has to be acknowledged first, which is clearly not happening in the narrative or the fandom.

There are obvious issues to be resolved in Elain’s character—shedding these traits and loving others without exploitation—but the focus will be on what SJM deems worthy for her plot. Elain went from being content to staying in the background, tending to her gardens, and creating beauty to wanting to step out of her sisters’ shadows. Though she never gave that vibe, it will be shoved down our throats because these leads need to be badasses. At this point, she has more chances of turning into another Feyre with her ‘coming out of the shell’ journey because that’s the only way women can grow in this series. I don’t like Elain the way I don’t like Feyre, Rhysand, or Cassian. She is, and will likely never be, held accountable for anything she does. Nesta has self-awareness, her flaws are portrayed as such, and she makes amends for her mistakes because that allows Feyre to be right again. But what reason does Elain have to be better when she hasn’t done anything wrong until now?

[slytherizz]

~WIP~

Thanks for the tag @kaidynsarell 💚

Dad!Seb Christmas fic which has been sat in WIPs for over a year. (I am aiming to hopefully finish for this year if my job allows me a moment of peace).

rules: share a snippet of a wip, then tag 5 writer friends!

***

Sebastian often wondered what she dreamed about. Each snuffling coo warmed his bare chest. Whisps of dark curly hair now beginning had begun to thicken and curl around her ear. Which he adamantly denied when his wife pointed it out because truthfully he never wanted to imagine she wouldn’t always be this small and bundled in one of what felt like dozens of soft knitted blankets Sweeting had gifted them.

She was not an easy baby. Alice Sallow's first breath was a battle cry. Born stubborn and wailing, challenging the world that now she was here, she would not go quietly. Ominis had asked Sebastian if he was really her father at all and had in fact accidentally swaddled Mandrake by mistake. 

For the first few days, Sebastian did not care how much she screamed. Insisting it was a sign of a strong character. Alice would take life by the horns. A Sallow through and through. 

After weeks with scattered and pitiful hours of stolen sleep between them Sebastian was dangerously strung out. And he wished the horns she would grasp would take the form of six hours of uninterrupted sleep. 

They'd fed her, bathed her, pleaded with her and considering the amount he’d spent on it he was certain the only babies in Britain sleeping in a finer bassinet were muggle royalty. It would not do.

But truely, Alice seemed just as distressed about the lack of suitable sleeping arrangements as her parents. Her cot was too static, her little legs kicking ferociously, unnerved by the offending stillness. The rocking bassinet tipped too far and the motions dizzying and hazardous.

Days pressed into weeks. He and his wife passing ships in the night, sparing the other a quick kiss and a few hours of peace to sleep as they waited for their little girl to wail herself into exhaustion.

Their washing had piled up into a teetering pile in the corner of the bathroom. Dresses, shirts, an endless pile of baby clothes, an old quidditch jersey dragged from the back of the wardrobe in desperation mounting the pile. Sebastian discarded his last shirt so soiled no scourgify charm could fully clean on the pile of mysteriously stained garments he did not have the energy to wash. 

Opened the wardrobe, pulled out all the draws. Empty. Save for a pair of odd socks. The only remaining options at his disposal were his wedding robes or…nothing. 

Tags: @sebastianswallows @writing-intheundercroft @cuffmeinblack @jecksaa @applinsandoranges

[jinxcrownguard]

Not over Piltover's Finest sex scene happened in a prison cell, which feels disrespectful to begin with, but the fact that it happens after Jinx lets Vi know that she's about to kill herself? Something about that is so ghoulish. Like the turn Vi has to "I spent seven years thinking of nothing but you" -> "You're not my sister, you killed her" -> "She's changed" "I'm going to kill myself so I don't burden you any more" *has sex in the prison cell she was held in*

And this could be better taken if the writing behind Vi was good, but it's not she has little motivation in s1 but s2 she's just floating around the plot. She's got no believable convictions, none of her wins or loses feel earned because they happen and then just immediately don't matter anymore [Caitvi Breakup, very next time they see each other they're on good terms, act 3 they don't even have one singular conversation about what has happened] Warwick regaining his Vander memories for two scenes and then disappearing completely right after[WASTED WASTED WASTED CHARACTER] survives the war with Noxus but loses Jinx again because she simply has to breakdown crying at Vander's death [again] at this exact moment. Like the writing makes her feel not just uninteresting but silly like she feels stupid.

Writing for Jinx isn't much better as she feels the most Harley Quinn esqe here than she did in s1, which I didn't like either but she had better writing there. No one cares about Ekko in universe [Main timeline] because no one seems to care that he went missing and returned alive, Jinx blew them both up maybe 4 whole times after finding out he's alive. Vi and Ekko don't share a single line together [but according to ⏳️💣 fans and the writers, that would still but justification enough to waste an entire episode set in an alternate universe where they're thick as thieves]

Anything interesting and nuanced about Caitlyn's story is dropped. Maddie is a spy loyal to Ambessa for??? Whatever reason I guess. They made a point of drawing visual parallels to Vander in Loris only for him to have no impact whatsoever and then dies. Heimerdinger dies but the stakes felt so low that you don't even register it happens really he's just gone. Isha's death is purely shock value and doesn't really matter past a couple minutes in episode 8.

Mel's storyline was whatever like it's not needed whatsoever I can't call it bad but it's also frankly unnecessary like she could have been dead this season and Ambessa's war against Piltover would have felt so much more justified. And speaking of Ambessa, the morally grey aspect of her character is simply gone. Her whole "I do this for my family" persona is dropped for the "I do this for my legacy" persona because then it is easy to justify hating her and the rest of Noxus. She's no longer a mother on a crusade to protect what remains of her family, she's a warmonger in search of lands to conquer and weapons to brandish. No nuance she's just evil she's manipulating our pretty small and frail faves so she has to die.

S1 Arcane no one will ever be able to duplicate you, not even yourself.

[shadowsingercassia]

The Day Hope Died

Rhysandxreader (on the second part)

Warnings: torture, mentions of torture, wing damage (very innacurate from the actual books but anyways), Amarantha (she's a TW herself fr), angst (tell me if i missed anything!!)

Words: 1.2k

a/n: even if people don't enjoy this, I'm proud of it

-------------------------☆-------------------------

Being under the mountain was like living in hell. Rhysand had been forced to do all sorts of atrocities. Invade people's minds and collect information from their memories, torturing them, and killing them with his daemati abilities.

As he sat on the mattress on the bed he was unavoidably sharing with Amarantha, he finally let the tears fall, flowing down his face in thick rivulets. His wings dangled behind him, the talons at the ends scraping against the sheets.

Quiet sobs left his lips, sounding so broken, filled with years of held-back emotions and suppressed feelings. The taste of his salty tears reached his mouth and his hand went to brush them away.

But the tears only fell, uncontrolled. All he had kept shunned down to the depths of his heart escaped, pouring into those tears. His chest ached, his body ached, his soul ached, and the ache wouldn’t go away, sitting heavily on top of his heart.

Rhysand sat there for Mother knows how long, crying, letting it all out. He sat there until the tears dried and the redness in his eyes faded. Yet still, the corners of his eyes prick with tears now and then.

Deep down, there was a sorrow he couldn't calm. A sorrow that would never leave him, no matter how much he wept.

He knew Amarantha would return before he knew it, and then compel him to do unspeakable things anew. Or perhaps she was already there, observing him as he broke while she laughed silently and mocked him.

He hadn’t felt her presence though, and it filled him with a spark of hope. It was always there, prepared to flare up with the smallest chance - yet each time she returned, it was lit out. And every time the hope was dimming. Perhaps it soon would be the time that the spark was finally shut down. Forever. For eternity.

Hope was useless anyway; there was no hope for anyone trapped here. It was pointless, dreaming. Rhysand couldn’t even dream of anything besides the nightmares Amarantha shoves into his mind. He can’t dream of anything other than the faces he has been forced to torture.

And Cauldron, he was a dreamer, a hopeful person. Where was that hopefulness now? Where were the dreams?

At least he knew his family was guarded and out of harm's way. Truly, that was all that mattered to him. Rhysand didn’t care about what happened to him, not at all, so long as his family was secure, he didn’t care if he lived or died under the mountain.

Wiping away the last remnants of his tears, he heard the door unlock, as Amarantha entered the room. “Rhysie, Rhysie… oh, how pathetic you are, look at you, crying,” her voice was full of mockery, yet Rhysand wasn’t infuriated. Instead, he faced her words and accepted them. He knew that in some sense, he was pathetic. In some sense, everything she said is true.

Hence, he believed her, and he forced himself to believe everything she told him. Perhaps the nightmare would end that way. When he finally shows his full acceptance and submission, maybe it will end.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But it all was just a big what-if, and there was no sign of anything changing. It was the same routine, the same days over and over. Wake, please Amarantha. Torment people and then go back to rest, if he could only get a few hours of it.

Rhysand lowered his gaze to the floor, tears blurring his vision again. He used to think that rebelling against Amarantha would make her stop everything. But soon, his naïve mind was proven wrong. So he tried to submit to her desires, no matter how physically sick it made him. At least she wouldn’t torture him, wouldn’t hurt him.

In truth, he was scared of the suffering, scared of her. Everyone was, and everyone is. Because torture is agony and there’s nothing he could do about it.

Rhysand hated whenever she tortured him, he hated feeling the sting of the scars after.

No one there could heal him, Amarantha wouldn’t allow it. So whenever she tortured him, the blood would stick to his skin for days, weeks before he was allowed one single bath. Then, he would scrub his skin raw to rid himself of the blood.

“Just stop crying already you’re such a useless toy,” she starts again, "can’t even do your job right and please me. I should just kill you already.” She added. Rhysand’s chest tightened. His lips pressed into a thin line as if that could stop the fresh tears pooling in his eyes.

He felt her long nails on his wings, the pads of her fingers trapping the talon of his wing between them. Then she twisted it.

A scream tore from his throat as he propelled forward to his knees. His head dropped to the ground, his forehead meeting the cold stone as he felt the tears against his cheeks.

Sharp sensations tore through him again as she twisted and twisted, intending to pull the talon right out of its place. The pain grew stronger and stronger, his screams drowned out by the burning in his throat.

Rhysand felt something disconnect before he heard her voice. “Well, wouldn’t this make such a lovely charm for my necklace? I’ll wear it like jewelry, just like I do with Jurian’s eye,” she stated, her tone cold. The feeling of something utterly wrong consumed Rhysand.

Everything was amiss, Amarantha hadn’t simply torn the talon. She took a part of the membrane with it. He heard the sound of it tear and then it was shoved in front of where his forehead was pressed.

It smelled like blood and as he opened his eyes, his gaze fell on the piece of the leather-like skin of his wing in front of his eyes. Bile stung his throat before he threw up. His wings, his Illyrian wings, the one thing that made him feel alive, now one of them torn, scarred for life. And there was no way of fixing it, no way of healing the tissue.

A door slammed shut and Rhysand realized Amarantha left the room. He lifted his face from the ground and looked at his wing, the top bone completely torn off. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. So much so that he wasn't certain if someone was also tearing his heart from his chest with their hands at the same time.

Once, he had been told to embrace his pain but this was unlike any other. It was a pain that made him feel too empty. He was unable to embrace it because this pain was the kind of pain that came from losing a part of yourself - something he has experienced once too many times.

But his wings were still such an important part of him that he couldn’t bear thinking that now, he wouldn’t be able to fly. Never again, he would ever fly alongside Cassian and Azriel, alongside his brothers. He will never be able to feel the wind as it kisses his face.

He would never feel freedom again.

And maybe that was when all of his hope evaporated. Perhaps, that was the day when this spark died.

Because Rhysand felt utterly helpless, utterly hopeless.

And alone, so alone.

-------------------------☆-------------------------

a/n: part 2 coming soon (with a happy ending)

general taglist: @blessthepizzaman @amara-moonlight @homeslices @flourishandblotts-inc @anarchiii @barb00235

comment '💕' to be added to my general taglist!

Love, Cassia ❤️

[skijumper]

domiel, lillehammer 2024

"I thought we weren't talking anymore," Domen says and Daniel winces, looking hurt.

Domen is sitting on his hotel bed, scrolling on his phone through Instagram when there's a knock on his door. Confused, Domen looks up. He is not expecting someone. Most of the team has already gone to bed as far as he knows and Domen didn't order any room service.

He puts his phone on the nightstand, gets up and walks slowly to the door. Domen's body still aches from his fall earlier but that's nothing compared to what could have happened. Quickly Domen banishes the images from his head. He does not want to think about that. Before Domen can open the door, there's another knock. He rolls his eyes. Whoever is standing before the door, is in a hurry.

Domen opens the door a little and peeks out. You can never be sure. Maybe there's a burglar there who wants to rob Domen. But Domen doesn't have anything valuable on him. A few euros, yes, but otherwise there's not much to be gained from him. Standing before the door, however, is not a thief.

It's Daniel Andre Tande. Domen does a double take, not trusting his eyes. Maybe he did hit his head worse than he had thought. Daniel (or the illusion of Daniel) gives a small smile. "Hi," he breathes, "I wanted to make sure you are okay. Can I come in?" Without a word, Domen steps aside and lets Daniel in. He rakes his head of things to say. Probably "Hey, nice that you are here" or something like that.

"I thought we weren't talking anymore," is what comes out of his mouth instead. Very subtle indeed, congratulations. Daniel winces and Domen considers jumping out of the window. But since his hotel room is on the ground floor, that wouldn't help much. Only wet clothes from the snow.

Daniel turns to look at Domen but he averts his eyes, doesn't want to see the look on Daniel's face. There was a time when Domen loved nothing more than to look into Daniel's face, to see the sparkle in his eyes and to enjoy his smile. But that time is over and it is not Domen's fault. It was Daniel who ended everything, who broke Domen's heart. "With my retirement, things will be difficult between us, we shouldn't see each other," Daniel had said and in that moment, Domen's world had collapsed. Sure, officially they had never been together but Domen couldn't deny his feelings. He had fucking loved Daniel! The fact that he dared to show up here now is unbelievable. Who even gave Daniel his hotel room number? Suddenly Domen just feels anger inside him, slowly rising to the top.

"I saw you fall and I felt so much anxiety in me, it was unbelievable. Of course, I saw you walking away but I just wanted to make sure you are okay," Daniel explains and Domen shrugs. He knows Daniel's history with falls and sure, it wasn't a nice fall but Daniel could stop pretending he cared about Domen. He had clearly shown that this wasn't the case.

Domen put his hands on his hips. "See, I'm in one piece, you can go now," he said in a gruff voice and Daniel sighs. "Look, I know I have been an asshole but I still care about you, you know." Domen huffs at that, rolling his eyes. As if that is the truth. Domen knows better now than to trust Daniel with anything.

Daniel takes a step towards Domen but he backs away. A look of hurt crosses Daniel's face but Domen does not care. Who does he think he is? "You should go now," Domen says again, more urgent this time. He needs Daniel out of his hotel room or he might do something stupid like yell at him or even worse, cry. That would be embarrassing.

"Domen, please. I am sorry, I know I have hurt you and I deserve it if you hate me. But I did what I did for us. How could it have worked between us with me being retired and you in new countries every weekend? We barely would have seen each other. But I realized just how much I have missed you. It deeply hurt me to not be able to hear your voice or see your laughter. I don't know what to do," Daniel confesses and Domen thinks he sees some tears starting to collect in Daniel's eyes. Domen deflates, all the anger suddenly gone. He understands Daniel's reasoning but he can't help but feel like Daniel could have handled it better. Daniel looks so small in Domen's hotel room and Domen believes what Daniel had said.

Still, he is unsure how to proceed now. First, he probably has to say something, right? "Thank you for explaining your reasoning. That's what I would have needed when you had ended it between us. Just an explanation and maybe a sorry," Domen says and shrugs. Daniel nods miserably. "I know, I was horrible."

At that Domen laughs, making Daniel jump slightly. "Oh yes, you were. You know, I told Peter what you have said. He wanted to fly over to Norway and kill you," Domen says and Daniel looks horrified. Well, he should be. An angry Peter is not something you want to deal with, Domen knows this from first-hand experience. He grins at Daniel and the Norwegian seems slowly to relax. "I'm glad he didn't, then," Daniel says and Domen answers, "Me too."

Now Daniel also smiles a little. Shyly he looks at the floor, before he asks, "May I hug you?" Domen considers it a little before he nods slowly. He still doesn't know how to feel, but deep down Domen feels that he wants to feel Daniel's arms around him. When Daniel slowly hugs him, Domen sinks into the embrace. It just feels good to be near Daniel again. Domen has missed this feeling more than anything. Maybe it will never be the same again, but what is happening right now is a step in the right direction.

[hydrachea]

Oh the polycule is so real to me.

[dollypopup]

"Colin should have grovelled more!" "Penelope folded too easily"

I think statements like this typically come from people who like Penelope. . .but don't really understand her. And don't really understand just why she cares for Colin, and just why him groveling would not in any way bring her peace.

Penelope and Colin are kindred spirits in their loneliness, in season 3 more than any others. Penelope had lost her friendship with Eloise, and Colin didn't really have a close friend circle to begin with. Except with Pen. Pen was the person he could put the mask down for, could open up to, (in particular with their 'dreams' discussion) and that's why he couldn't even entertain the idea of giving up talking to her in Season 2. She is a vital part of his life, and holds so much significance and importance to him.

I imagine that's what made their silence over his travels especially painful for him. They spent such a long time talking after Season 1, and he even informs her that her letters were so encouraging, that it helped him heal something inside of himself. That if she could see him in a gentle way. . .so could he. (And he repays this, because he is honest to god out here acting and looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky). But without her presence in his life, he spiraled. Didn't feel confident in being who he is, and thus put on his persona more firmly. We know this because he wrote in his journal that "I want to be less needy, less insecure, while still maintaining the core of my vulnerability that makes me who I am". That he misses his family, that he misses home.

And we know, from the books, that Home? Home is Penelope. Penelope is his North Star, is his guiding force, and who I argue he feels he needs. In his very first scene, he looks toward her house, tries to find her in the window. When he does not, he returns to his family. In the outdoor gathering, he looks for her and finds her, eager to talk. He states aloud that he misses her, and I imagine he wrote it, too. Not hearing back from her over the course of his travels was surely something that hurt him, but he doesn't hold any ill will toward her for it, only wants to reconnect again. In fact, the one and only time he brings up how he misses her and that she didn't respond, she makes very clear the reason why: she heard what he said and it hurt her. And he's ashamed of it.

Colin hears her call him cruel, and instead of ruffling his feathers about it, instead of getting upset, instead of having a chip on his shoulder as I feel so many men would about it. . .he understands why she does so.

Penelope is a woman who has been largely treated poorly in her society. She feels unheard, she feels undesired, and in her circumstances, and I can't help but ask myself. . .has anyone ever truly apologized to Penelope for hurting her, before? Her mother? Her sisters? Eloise, likely, but. . .anyone else? And the way Colin did? Because of all the characters in the show, Colin? Colin knows how to apologize. He has a lot of practice in it. And very importantly: Colin, a man of privilege in his society, apologizes. . .predominately to women. To Marina, to his mother, and multiple times to Penelope.

Ultimately, Penelope wants to be heard, Penelope wants to be understood, Penelope wants to feel desired.

And Colin checks every single one of those boxes. He informs he is not who he was before, and then he proves it to her. He hears that he hurt her, and he comments on it directly. An entire night apart, and he comes back to her 'Because I embarrass you' with 'I am most certainly not ashamed of you', replies to her 'I am a laughingstock' with 'you are clever, and warm, and I am proud to call you my good friend'. He hears her proclaim her own insecurities, and empathizes so deeply with her. He listens. He understands. He makes clear that he cares for her, and that she *is* desired. 'You lift my spirits' 'I seek you out at every social assembly'. That she helps him see the world in ways he loves, that he sees HER and how much she has cared for HIM, that she makes him feel appreciated, that he appreciates her, in turn.

And then? Then? He shows her. He tells her, and he shows her. His actions all throughout Season 3 reinforce this apology. He continues looking for her in every corner of every ballroom, he continues complimenting her, he laughs at her jokes and respects her boundaries, he is ever so gentle with her, he listens to her with an attentiveness that no one else has ever given her. To Lady Whistledown? Sure. But to Penelope? Who else in the entirety of that ton has listened to Penelope the way Colin has?

Absolutely no one.

Penelope Featherington ghosts Colin Bridgerton for months with no explanation, and Colin comes back wanting to reach out to her, and she finally tells him why.

And he apologizes. Because he listens. Really, truly listens. And really truly cares.

I need you to understand how rare that is, even nowadays, but especially back then. That Colin is the kind of man who can put his hurt to the side and realize he made a mistake, that he said something callous, and he adores her, and he can't lose her, and he has to see her and make it right.

Because that's why Penelope fell for Colin. Not because he's beautiful, not for his charm, not for his family. But for his heart. Because he shows her kindness in a world that so often disregards her. Because he seeks her out and tries to understand her, truly hears what she has to say and compliments her, says he's sorry and looks at things from her perspective.

Because he saw her when she was invisible.

Penelope Featherington, who grew up in a house that made cruel jabs at her, has Colin Bridgerton come to her and say he regrets what he said, and that he was wrong, and that he understands why she's mad at him. Penelope Featherington who has so rarely had much of anyone tell her that they're sorry for what they said about her, sits before Colin Bridgerton as he professes how much she means to him. That he cannot even spend a full day away from her knowing they're on bad terms with each other without making it right. That he sees how she is hurting and he has to in any way he can amend it. She is lonely, with no one really in her corner at the start of season 3, and she feels like she lost it all, and Colin comes to her and says 'no, I'm here and I appreciate you and you are special to me, please let me in and let me prove it'. Is it any wonder why after she shakes his hand, she stands in the sun, and she feels the warmth of it, she can smile? That she can breathe, again? That she can be truly content for the first time in the season?

Because Penelope Featherington does not want Colin to beg. She knows him. She knows the tender, full heart he hides behind the new cavalier persona. She knows the soft underbelly of Colin Bridgerton.

He never had to grovel. All he had to do was love her. Assuredly. Fervently. Loudly. Unapologetically.

And he does.

[jamandjazz]

“I love Soda more than I’ve ever loved anyone, even Mom and Dad.” I think about this quote all the time and just kinda cry because oh my god they love each other so much and they’re BROTHERS and and—

[theonewithval]

A "wouldn't risk losing you" kind of concern, when work and personal relationship's lines get blurred

Just rewatched this scene in my native language too because I love comparing translations and Ziva instead of "I saw you..." says "I was afraid you..." ("could be killed by that gunshot", maybe) she was afraid she could lose him so much, she had to do whatever she could to avoid that

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 749: The last Straight Road*

(NdT.: same pun Kinaka always makes with his name and the word for straight road)

Pag 1

1: I....

3: Imaizumi-san!!

4: Go- good work!!

Good work!!

You were taking a long time for this lap

Pag 2

1: Yes, teh, I got a fl-fl-flat- my bike!!

Yessir!!

2: It's the tire!!

4: Only tires can get a flat

Ah- damn, yes, that's right

Right!!

6: I thought something like this might have happened, so I brought these

Replacement tubes, tire levers, and a pump. Use them

Pag 3

2: This is unusual!! I never thought Imaizumi-san was the attentive type – is it just for us!?

Yeah!! I thought first and second years were just not important to him....

3: You don't want to use the,?

We'll use them, thank you so much!!

4: You saved us, teh....!!

That's true

6: Ah, uhm... but..... Imaizumi-san

Earlier you said that

7: Sugimoto-san won't come”, what did you mean?

Pag 4

1: He retired

Pag 5

1: He's still displayed on the board, but

3: There's still time until midnight

If Sugimoto-kun....

4: Please leave the possibility open in case Sugimoto-kun wants to come back!!

5: Onoda insisted

6: Re... tired.....

Sugi..... moto-san....

Pag 6

1: He used up all his stamina and mental strength in his fight against Danchiku, and he was defeated

2: You didn't notice because you've been on the course the whole time

4: Ah... actually, when it got dark, Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san passed us various times... teh

Huh!? That? So at that time-!?

5: You have no time to talk about unimportant things

As soon as you're done with the repairs, run, first years

6: Soon

Pag 7

1: Waa, ye-yes, teh, thank you for the tools

Yeah, there's still 40km

2: If we join our strengths....

Don't cooperate

5: Teh!?

7: From now on, you can't allow yourselves to run like friends

8: Huh....

Our “buddies” stickers.....!?

You have to fight

Pag 8

1: And win the last spot to be an Inter High member!!

Pag 9

1: Fa.... ight....

2: Against.... Kinaka-kun

3: Against.... Rokudai

4: 35km left!!

Gooo!! Kinakaa, Rokudaii!!

Do your best...!!

5: I feel like they'll be able to run the 1000km!!

Amazing!

Ah, but there was no distance between them just now?

Pag 10

1: Fight....

2: The spot as a regular in the two-times national champion, Sohoku....

3: I can't take it by just being friendly....!!

4: And also

5: There's Sugimoto-san's wish!!

Pag 11

1: Wa- wait, please, Imaizumi-san

But.... if in this training camp the condition to become the sixth regular was to finish the 1000km first....

2: Then why did Sugimoto-san and Danchiku-san race!?

4: I came here to give you a message from Sugimoto

5: I think, I think it's necessary, you know

Sohoku is a team that connect and support each other

6: Just like during our first year, you, Naruko, and Onoda, connected your wishes and aimed for the goal

7: And last year Kaburagi ran with Aoyagi-san and carried the team until the mountains on the third day

8: So I think we need it

9: Our third year Inter High members

Pag 12

1: Definitely need a “first year”!!

3: Even if he knew he was making his own situation worse, he thought about the best shape for the team would be

4: He accepted it, and fought

Pag 13

1: For the fifth place

3: Among the first years, those two are left, I look forward to see what they do!!

That's too much food

4: Danchiku probably understood it, too

That's why he fought with all his strength

6: Now you two have to run with the weight of those expectations on your back!!

7: Fight, against your opponent and against yourself!! Use all your strength

Pag 14

1: And pull to yourself that last jersey!!

2: Straaa-

Pag 15

1: Straight roaaad!!

2: - traight!!

3: …. ngh

Ugh.....

4: Kinaka-kun.....

5: Don't cry, Rokudai!!

Pag 16

1: What are you doing, oi!! I'll leave you behind like this!! I'll tear you off!!

If you give up, then it's lucky for me!!

2: My goal has always been the Inter High jersey!!

To get back at those senpai who made fun of me!!

3: To show it to the Onii-san who taught me how to ride bikes!!

So, for that....

6: So I'm telling you not to cry!!

Pag 17

1: But, Kinaka-kun....

It's that your “Straitgh road”, wasn't fast at all....!!

4: You knee? It's your knee, right?

Since when? Since a while ago?

5: Since when we were at about 800km

Pag 18

1: It's a race, Rokudai

2: You should have told me, teh

I didn't notice, teh!!

3: I'm such an incapable former manager, teh....

4: Since when I lost to you in the first years' race

6: I've been thinking that I would definitely not lose the next time we race

7: Even though the truth is that I don't really care about that anymore

So, once again...

Pag 19

1: It's a race, Rokudai!!

3: Let's do it, Rokudai!!

I can't, teh

4: Race me, pedal!!

I don't want to, teh....

5: Fight me!!

I won't pedal, teh

Pag 20

1: Because, if I fight you now, Kinaka-kun, I'll end up winning, teh

Pag 22

1: With that kindness of yours, support our senpai during the Inter High

[sysig]

My kingdom for a "So you say” (Patreon)

[bataranqs]

5 Happy Things

June 30, 2024

Sunday School today was so insanely good that we actually were still in the lesson when the sermon was ended, the kids were so great at listening and engaging in the material today I'm !!! They had SO many opinions and SO many thoughts on the material and were super eager to share all of it!!

Had a 12-year-old girl ask me where I bought my bag which I feel like is such a high compliment. Pre-teen girls know where it's at

In Joy of Life 2 how the Prime Minister doesn't have to leave Dabao behind with Fan Xian but he does out of care for Fan Xian. To protect his future son-in-law. Because he truly cares. Hnngh.

Also Joy of Life 2 because I can't help myself. How the eldest prince is asked why he likes Fan Xian and he says "because he values affection". And when asked to expand, he says "people in the capital value vanity". That he has only seen so little of Fan Xian but he understands. He knows Fan Xian's character is this kind, this loyal. HNNNGHHHHHH.

Started writing an X-Men fic and it's meant to be serious but I'm writing lines that are like "Scott is truly despicable." and I'm like okay but who can take this seriously. His name is SCOTT. It's such a comic book, American name. I don't know anyone named Scott. It's like saying "Garfield is truly despicable" like I can't stop laughing writing this out