#this felt like a necessary thing to think about in a story where life-taking and personal autonomy are central topics

[trainwreckgenerator]

ok i KNOW this is an insane topic to make a tierlist about but i was thinking about milsiril again so. dungeon meshi characters ranked by how pro-euthanasia i think they are

clarifications:

"pro-murder" here doesnt necessarily mean "likes killing". this chart is about how each character views the ethical ramifications of taking a human life, and some of the people in "pro-murder" are there because they would kill someone outside of a combat situation if they thought it would have a greater benefit, such as saving the lives of many others. the rest of them (like thistle, cithis, and the orcs) are there because they are ready to kill whenever to get whatever they want, which is a very different ethical stance but still fits in the same category for the purpose of the chart.

"pro-euthanasia" means having no qualms over killing something/someone if there is an absolute certainty that the individual will never be able to regain a livable quality of life. this is the only category outside of, uh, murder, that doesn't necessarily require consent for the euthanasia to be carried out.

"it's an option" characters would perform euthanasia if asked, or would otherwise condone consensual euthanasia.

"only in the most extreme" characters would only consider the option as an absolute last resort, once every other possibility had been exhausted. these characters would keep someone alive against their wishes to try to save them.

"absolutely against it" characters would never under any circumstances kill someone they didn't want dead. they would sooner let them bleed out or otherwise suffer against their wishes than perform requested euthanasia, and would protest the performance of consensual euthanasia by others.

[olive-main]

oooo if you’re interested would love to see your take: reader is Azriel’s mate, nobody knows. The inner circle keeps trying to set him up with females (including Elaine & Gwyn). They like reader but don’t view her as an option for being his partner. Lots of angst, she’s hurting, she overhears them saying she’s not an option for him. Up to you what happens for her and Azriel. Loved your last story, and that you wanted more angst ideas!! And if this isn’t what you’re looking for, all good!

Between Us Alone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel’s mate overhears a conversation that shakes her confidence in their hidden bond, but he reminds her that love, even in shadows, is unbreakable.

Wc: 1.2k

A/N: Annndddd welcome back to our regularly scheduled programming. This time I come with the gift of some fluff (with angst ofc bcs duh—who do y’all think I am?) Enjoy the happy endings while they last…..evil laugh

——

The corridors of the House of Wind were quiet, save for the faint hum of conversation that drifted from Rhysand’s office. You’d gone looking for Azriel, hoping he might steal away from his “boys’ night” early and join you at your shared apartment.

A secret, the two of you. Hidden in plain sight. Quite fitting for Rhysand’s spymasters.

It was exhilarating at first—the quiet smiles across rooms, the fleeting brushes of hands, and the stolen glances when no one else was looking. But there were cracks now, small fissures of insecurity that made you wonder if keeping the bond private had been the right choice.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared Rhys’s office, voices clear now, though you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were about to knock when you caught the sound of Cassian’s boisterous laughter.

“Oh, come on, Az,” Cassian said, his tone teasing. “You’ve been spending all that time with Gwyn. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Gwyn’s sweet,” Rhysand added. “And she clearly enjoys your company. You’d make a good pair.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the words hitting you like a physical blow.

Azriel’s reply was quieter, almost unreadable. “Gwyn is a friend. I’m not looking for… that.”

Cassian scoffed. “You say that now, but it’s been centuries, Az. When was the last time you even tried to let someone in? Gwyn’s perfect for you—kind, strong, clever. She gets you.”

“She’s not the only option,” Rhys said smoothly. “There are others. Nesta’s mentioned a few priestesses who would be good matches.”

Cassian nodded in agreement. “There’s also Y/N.”

You pressed your hand to the doorframe, your breaths shallow as you heard Cassian say your name.

“No, I don’t see them together. They rarely speak to each other outside of missions and a few shared words at dinners.” Rhysand says with a shake of his head as if the thought of you and Azriel together was the most unlikely thing he could think of.

You shouldn’t have stayed, shouldn’t have listened, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. They didn’t mean to hurt you—you knew that. You’d always been on the periphery of their circle, a friend but never a true equal in their eyes. Azriel’s shadows had been your sanctuary, his quiet love a solace you cherished.

But to hear them speak so casually, as if you weren’t even a possibility…

Azriel’s voice cut through, firm and unyielding. “I don’t need you to play matchmaker. I can handle my own life.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Cassian said, clearly amused.

“Drop it,” Azriel snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

The room fell silent after that, but the damage was done. You turned and fled, the ache in your chest twisting tighter with every step.

—

The space you shared with Azriel was small but cozy, tucked away in a quiet corner of Velaris where no one thought to look. It was your haven, the only place you could truly be yourselves without prying eyes or whispered questions.

But tonight, it felt suffocating.

You sank onto the couch, wrapping a blanket around yourself as the doubts clawed at your mind.

This charade was necessary. You both knew that. If they ever found out you and Azriel had been together for months—years, now—it would complicate everything. Not just for him, but for you.

As Azriel’s partner, you worked in the shadows as he did, your work as vital and delicate as his own. Secrecy was second nature to you both, and you’d agreed early on that revealing your bond—to anyone—was too risky.

You’d thought you could handle it. But moments like this, when they talked about Azriel’s love life like you didn’t exist, like you weren’t his, made you question how much more you could endure.

You told yourself it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. He hadn’t encouraged them. He’d even told them to stop. But the weight of their words lingered, stirring fears you’d tried so hard to bury.

What if they were right? What if Azriel deserved someone like Gwyn, someone who could stand beside him without the need for secrecy?

You didn’t hear the front door open, too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar sound of Azriel’s footsteps until he was standing in front of you.

“Something’s wrong,” he said immediately, his hazel eyes scanning your face. His shadows swirled around him, restless and sharp. “What happened?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just tired.”

His brow furrowed, and he crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You looked away, your throat tightening as you tried to hold back tears.

“Y/N,” he said softly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“I went to Rhys’s office,” you admitted quietly. “I was going to find you, but… I heard you all talking.”

Azriel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What did you hear?” He already knew. There was only one part of the conversation that could’ve had you so distraught.

You swallowed hard. “They… they were trying to set you up with someone. Gwyn, mostly. Rhys mentioned others.” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “They said I wasn’t even an option.”

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his shadows curling tighter around him.

“They didn’t mean it to hurt me, I know that” you added quickly, seeing how Azriel was ready to go back and pummel his brothers. “They don’t know about us. But… it still hurt.”

He exhaled sharply, standing and pacing the room. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “They had no right—”

“They care about you,” you interrupted. “They want you to be happy. And maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d be better off with someone like Gwyn. Someone who—”

“Stop.”

The word was a command, sharp and unyielding. Azriel crossed the room in an instant, kneeling before you again. He took your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t you dare doubt this,” he said fiercely. “Don’t you dare doubt us.”

Tears spilled over, and he reached up to brush them away, his touch achingly tender.

“You are my mate,” he said, his voice breaking. “You. Not Gwyn, not anyone else. You are the only one I want, the only one I will ever want.”

“But they—”

“They’re idiots,” he said flatly. “I’ll deal with them. But don’t let their ignorance make you doubt what we have.”

You searched his face, finding only unwavering certainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said, his voice softening. “More than I thought I was capable of. And I don’t care if they don’t see it. I see it. I feel it.”

A broken laugh escaped you, relief washing over you like a tide. “I love you too.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could shield you from the world.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never wanted you to feel like this. I thought keeping the bond private would protect us, but if it’s hurting you—”

“It’s not,” you said quickly. “Not really. I just… I needed to hear this. To hear you.”

He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours. “You’ll never have to doubt me again.”

——

Aren’t they just so sweet *sigh*. Thank you for reading <3

Requests are still open ;)

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where soap is medically discharged and doesn’t really have a “purpose” anymore. He enlisted so young, and had been in the military for so long that he’s got no fucking idea what to do next. In the end, he moves in with his oldest sister and her kids after his brother-in-law passes away suddenly.

While getting his feet back under him, he takes up drawing again. More seriously this time than just doodles on paperwork and scribbles on briefing notes. But real illustrations. It starts as a way to keep his hands occupied while idle at home, but then it becomes an actual hobby of his. He gets better and better, watching YouTube tutorials to learn things he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

It’s his 15 year old niece that gets everything rolling. She (without his knowledge) sets up a social media account to share his art. But a very specific series of art. See, he started illustrating the stories his 5 year old nephew told him. And the art, just like the stories, are mindblowing. Soap didn’t do it for recognition, but his niece insisted on sharing his work with the world.

The account starts to get a following, and when his niece shows it to him he nearly has a breakdown. But then he sees the comments. Parents of kids who feel seen in his art. Young self taught artists feeling seen through him. A whole community of people who connected with his work on such a deeper level than anything he’d expected. So, begrudgingly, he lets her continue to post.

Then comes the storefront. With prints and merch and all sorts of wild ass things he’d never dreamed of. And while the income is modest, it still an income. For a while, a part of him had felt guilty for “mooching” off his sister (despite her protests to the contrary) and now he can really start contributing to the household. Plus, a little bit of each sale gets squirreled away for his niece and nephew. Since without them, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening.

And then the email comes. It’s innocuous at first, something he’s gotten a number of times. The sender asks him if he’s willing to illustrate for an upcoming project with a children’s book author. They’d seen his work online and thought his style would match perfectly with the book. Initially, soap was going to politely decline the offer. As much as he’d come to accept the minor fame he’d gotten online, he didn’t think he was good enough to actually illustrate something for a traditional publication. But then he sees the sender’s signature.

S. Riley.

Not much was known about Riley as a person. Their personal life, much like their first name, was kept down tight under lock and key. But their books were beloved by so many, including Soap and his family. Riley wrote on topics that not a lot of other children’s book authors dared to touch, and not with the deft and delicate hand necessary to properly tackle them. Things like parental abuse, neglect, trauma, death; there wasn’t a subject Riley was scared of, and there wasn’t a subject that they handled with anything less than the utmost grace. Their book on dealing with grief and loss had gotten Soap’s niblings (and his sister, to be perfectly honest) through those first few months after their father’s death.

So, despite his misgivings and anxieties, soap accepts.

(Across the country, one Simon Riley waits with bated breath to see if his nephew Joseph’s (and his) mysterious favorite artist will say yes. For no other reason than professional curiosity. It definitely has nothing to do with the briefest glimmer of a bright blue eye caught in the corner of a recent post.)

[schattenhonig]

The A in LGBTQIA+ doesn't stand for aspec because they're not repressed!

(please read the disclaimer at the end of this post)

Ummm, excuse me? Would you mind telling me what your definition of repression is, then?

Because I feel repressed when a doctor asks me about my sex life, and if I say I have none, it gets marked down as a symptom without being asked if I suffer from it.

I feel repressed when my gyn tells me I can't get a hysterectomy yet despite losing so much blood on every period that I need to take iron supplements all the time, because I could change my mind about not wanting children (which is a whole other post, I know, but it's most likely linked to sex).

I feel repressed if I can't use dating apps or platforms because my sexuality doesn't even exist there, and the one time I tried, I got called names because I didn't want to meet for because it was clear where this date would go, despite my explicit "what I'm looking for".

I feel repressed when I think about how recently a paragraph was finally abolished in my country that considered sex a vital part of a marriage, basically entitling the spouses to having sex with their partner (both gender neutral, because entitling people to having sex with somebody else by law is wrong. It's basically a rape permission).

I feel repressed when I can't watch any film or show without it being about love and/or sex, no matter if it fits the narrative and furthers the plot.

I feel repressed when I plot my own stories and automatically put a romantic couple in there as main characters, even though I have no idea why this would be important for the plot. Not even my own stories, my own thoughts are mine.

I felt repressed when I was asked accusingly in a relationship if I wasn't missing something before I even knew asexuality as a spectrum was a thing, and having to lie about this being a side effect of my medication instead of genuinely not feeling attracted to someone in this way.

I feel repressed when I can't tell people I'm not sexually attracted to them because they will take this personally no matter how well I explain myself.

I feel repressed when everywhere I look there's advertising relying on naked skin, suggestive posing and objectification. Why are expensive cars still presented by women considered beautiful and tempting? It's not like that's necessary to convince people of spending so much money on a thing that gets you from A to B. Couches with women in smart dresses and high heels. That's not what a normal person looks like on a couch. But the worst is a truck in the town where I live: it's from a small fruit and vegetable stand, so whenever I see it, it comes from the warehouse, delivering groceries. On it is a woman clad in very little, presenting fruit. I'm sorry, but why? Does a misogynistic picture convince you of the necessity to avoid scurvy?

I feel repressed when I tell people and get the answer "you just haven't found the right person yet", because there are two possible assumptions from that point: I'm either not trying hard enough (so it's basically my own fault) or something about me is not right, appalling even (which circles back to I'm not trying hard enough or frames me as a victim of my genetics, upbringing or circumstances to be pitied).

Do not tell me how I feel. Do not try to tell me everything is fine and I shouldn't complain or ask for acknowledgement if everywhere I look, I'm reminded of how odd, how weird and how not normal I am. How much it inconveniences you to even acknowledge my existence, let alone respect any of my traits, views and choices.

And while I can only write from my own asexual point of view, I wrote this with all kinds of flavours of aspec in mind, so I'm explicitly including aromantics, aroace people and every shade of the spectrum in this. Not all my examples may apply to you, but I hope you can find something to relate to.

ETA: please feel free to add your own experiences of repression!

[billfarrah]

One of my favourite things about Young Royals and its characters is how much it romanticizes being utterly ordinary.

Stories often focus on characters who are exceptionally good at something or who are more ambitious than the average person. Even in the teen shows I’ve watched, these young characters always seemed to have their dream career and dream university figured out at a young age and I could never relate to that because I had none of those things figured out as a teen. It always felt like pushing this narrative that teenagers need to have their entire lives figured out before their brains are even fully developed.

None of the characters in YR seem particularly ambitious and in fact, the main character’s journey is a story of anti-ambition. When he is introduced to Simon, it is precisely Simon’s ordinariness that draws Wille to him. Sure, Simon is a very talented singer, but it’s never indicated within the series that he has dreams of being a pop star. It’s just something he likes to do. Simon is motivated by very ordinary things - he wants to do well in school so he can have better opportunities for himself, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to hang out with his friends and play video games. He’s a dedicated student but not necessarily valedictorian. It’s not his ambition that Wille is drawn to but his integrity and kindness and warmth.

Wille had a chance to be extraordinary - to be Sweden’s first gay king - but being extraordinary has never been Wille’s ambition. Wille’s ultimate goal and dream within the series’ narrative is to be free to make his own decisions and live his life as he pleases. He just wants to kiss his boyfriend and get drunk at parties and live his life one day at a time instead of spending every moment of his life preparing for an inevitable future he doesn’t want. In the end Wille is extraordinary not for his ambition, but for his bravery to reject the expectations thrust upon him and throw himself into the unknown and see where it takes him. Wille had a whole future in front of him as crown prince and future king - he’d never have to work a day in his life and would have people advising his every move - and he rejects that. This lack of ambition is not portrayed as a moral failure, but a necessary step in Wille’s journey to personal self-discovery and fulfillment of his own desires. His desire right now is simple - be free with Simon, but that doesn’t mean his dreams end here forever. He deserves peace and tranquility after all the trauma he’s been through without having to worry about where or who he’s gonna be in a few years. He deserves time to just exist.

None of the characters know where they’re going when they drive away at the end. We as the audience don’t know what careers if any these characters will find themselves in, but that’s also not important to this story. The series is saying you don’t have to have everything figured out when you’re 17 and you don’t have to do something just because your parents think they know what’s best for you and even if you don’t know exactly what you want to do, that doesn’t mean you don’t have the agency to know what you don’t want.

It’s not a moral failing to want the simple things in life or to be ordinary, and I love that Young Royals celebrates that. It shows the beauty in simple moments that feel revolutionary to a person - touching the person you love, forgiving someone and making amends after a hardship, whooping with your friends in a car as you drive into the summer and celebrates them. Ultimately these are the moments that make life worth living.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

I've only watched the first 5 episodes and I'm obsessed! I am convinced that there is no part Jesse Lee Soffer can play that I won't love. I went to binge on some content for him and couldn't find anything (Big sad). So, I had to make sure he had at least one story. I'm still learning his character so this is probably not perfect.

Wes Mitchell Key 

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking. The relationship wasn’t new but had been long distance since the beginning. Now you were standing in front of his apartment door, one travel-on bag thrown over your shoulder. You had jet lag from the flight all you wanted was a hot shower and any flat surface to sleep on.  

But now standing here anxiety twisted in your stomach clawing its way up your throat. You reached in your pocket pulling out a key. It felt heavy as lead in your palm and caught the light in the shine of the new metal. You had never used it before and half wondered if it would even really work in the lock. 

You and Wes had been officially together for eight months after steadily talking for three. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wes had trust issues. He didn’t talk about his childhood much, but the random snit bits that he had shared you knew it had been on the rougher side. He was slow to trust and despite his apparent mastery at reading suspects needed blunt direct talks to know where he stood in his personal relationships. 

You two hadn’t seen each other in person more than a handful of times. It had forced a strong foundation built on communication and genuinely enjoying the other company as opposed to falling into bed together because it was easy and lonely. Wes had openly admitted that he tended to do that in a lot of his previous relationships because he “wasn’t good alone”.  

It had been a major red flag and forcing you to keep the pace slow. He was charming, funny, and incredibly good looking and you didn’t want to get your heartbroken.

It didn’t stop you from falling in love with him.

Neither of you had uttered those words yet. Wes didn’t seem like the type to make that proclamation without meaning it and you didn’t want to back him into a corner. 

The feeling of him keeping parts of his life separate from you had caused more than one fight. It always happened in the same pattern. You would bring it up, he would acknowledge that he did it and promise to try harder to be more open. For a while, he would and it would get better but he always seemed to hide behind that last layer of protection. His reflex to protect himself at any cost. You loved him and tried to be patient with what he was working through but the pattern was incredibly frustrating.  

The last one had stuck pretty well. When he came for a week's visit, he had given you his key. He hadn’t said it but you knew it was his way of showing how much he trusted you. You couldn’t help but wonder if it had been an empty attempt to appease you. After all who would go across the country to actually use the key?  

You had only been to his apartment in Budapest once and he came to see you three times. When you met him, you didn’t even have a passport. While seeing each other hadn’t been frequent, the sex was always absolutely mind-blowing. 

Now you felt like quite the hypocrite as you had been hiding your own struggles from him. Things had gotten so bad, so overwhelming at home that you had packed a bag and paid for a flight on a whim. You couldn’t even remember if you packed underwear. Your brain had been like watching static on a TV and it was only halfway through the flight that you remembered that Wes wasn’t even home. He was currently in the Netherlands.  

You felt a gaze fall heavy on you. You look over your shoulder to see a man watching you stand in front of the door holding a key and making no attempt to open it for way longer than necessary. You scrabbled to put the key in the lock and let out a grateful yet slightly surprised breath of relief as the key twisted in the lock butter smooth. 

A glance back showed the man's suspicions seemed settled as he headed down the hall. Then you remembered the alarm and rushed in to type in the password letting your bag carelessly fall to the ground with a heavy thunk. You watch in anticipation after typing the code in. Wes would be the type to constantly change his code but the light turned blissfully green.  

You turned around to see the almost obsessively neat living room. It had a modern feel but it felt only half lived in like Wes hadn’t completely moved in even though he had been living there for over a year now. It looked exactly the same as when you had been there last. The only difference is the lack of pillows and blankets thrown on and over the couches. It was clear that he had done that for your comfort when you had been staying there.  

You stared blankly into the space. Should you call Wes to let him know you have invaded his home? A yawn forced itself from you and your exhaustion came over you in another harsh demanding wave. It had been over a 12-hour flight and you hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Thoughts of calling Wes were easily forgotten with the promise of sleep.  

You walk into his room and are washed in the scent of his cologne and aftershave still barely clinging to the enclosed space. It brought a soft comfort to you. A tease of his embrace. You paused thinking about how awful you must smell and all the germs you had no doubt gotten from the shared space of the airport and then the plane. Your fickle mind had you turning on your heel to the shower turning the water hot.  

As you rinsed off you noticed the only product that Wes had was a 3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. You didn’t even have it in you to care as you scrubbed yourself down with it only unconsciously noticing how awful it made your hair feel. You dried off sparing only the bare minimum amount of time towel-drying your mess of tresses before climbing into his bed. You sank into it with a sigh cocooning yourself in his blankets and before you could think twice you were out like a light. 

Wes entered his apartment quietly. Resetting his alarm before heading to the bedroom. He set his bag down gently as he headed to the bed. He sitting beside you brushing the still damp and tangled tresses off your face. You barely moved still deep in sleep. His eyes analyze you worriedly before leaning down and dropping a soft kiss on your forehead. 

Wes had been gathering his things when his phone had chimed alerting him that someone was at his door. He glanced briefly at his phone thinking it might be a person walking too close to his door or a package arriving he had forgotten he ordered. He had done a double-take when he realized it was you. You hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by.  

He thought maybe it was a surprise visit. It had been a while since you had seen each other in person. The long flight explained why he couldn’t reach you the last few times he had called. He quickly dismissed that notion. You knew he was still in the Netherlands doing a job and he had given you no idea of when he would be back because he hadn’t known himself. If that wasn’t enough there was your slumped posture, hair thrown haphazardly up in a messy bun with thick chunks of hair escaping, only one carry-on bag thrown over your shoulder. He could feel your exhaustion through the screen, not the excitement you usually had when finally getting to see him again. 

He had watched with growing concern as you just stood at his front door with the key in your hand. You stood that way for so long that he thought his video might have frozen. It stung when he realized it was indecision. He had silently willed you to open the door but still you stood unmoving.  

His stomach clenched with guilt. It was his fault that you were hesitating. You had told him you felt like he had a life he didn’t want you to know. That he always had his walls up. He knew the truth and accepted the burden of trying to fix it. He thought he had been doing a good job and that it wasn’t a big deal.  

Watching you fight with yourself if you were truly welcome in his home or if you would be invading it spoke louder than your words ever could. They cut deeper too. Far past the walls that he had spent his life building. He was just about to call you and tell you to go inside when your head whipped backward clearly startled by something. Then you turned back with purpose and put the key in the lock. It didn’t give him the relief he was hoping for. You hadn’t chosen to go in, you had been pushed too. How long would you have stood there without that nudge? 

The flight home was short but it felt long. His mind was in fix-it mode and whirling with what was the right thing to do when he got home. He wanted to talk to you about your relationship. There was nothing more he wanted than you being around. How deeply he cared for you. He wanted to know what that hesitation meant to you about your relationship because he knew what it meant to him. 

Even though Wes desperately wanted that to be the first thing he did. He knew it wasn’t the right one. He needed to find the underlying cause of what would cause you to spontaneously fly across the country. What had happened? And how did it build up that fast? Hadn’t he just talked to you a few days ago? You had been a little quiet but it had been late your time so he hadn’t thought much of it. Had he missed something so major? How long had whatever it was really been going on? 

Wes tried to suppress his worry not wanting to alert the team that you were there until he knew what was going on. He knew an attempt to run when he saw it, he had done it enough himself. When the group had asked if he wanted to get some drink before they had all returned home, he had feigned tiredness. He had beelined for his home. 

Wes smoothed the blankets over you gently, considering his options. He sighed deeply standing up. You looked vulnerable and small twisted in the blankets and curled up into a ball. You were in a deep sleep. You had barely moved since he had walked in. It wasn’t worth waking you up.   

[gffa]

*slams The Glass Abyss down on the table* OKAY, I HAVE FINISHED IT AND I HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY.

In a lot of ways, this was a complicated read for me and I think the best way to describe my feelings on the author's take on Mace is that we diverge at the fork in the road that is, "Who is Mace Windu without his internal balance/his connection to the Force?" but that, as we walk along separate paths, I can still see the author clearly from where his path takes him and where my path takes mine. Like walking on separate sides of the street, still in view, just not perfectly aligned.

Further, I think my biggest criticism of the book is one I have to give a caveat of my caveat to, where I very much felt the absence of the Force in this book and as a presence in Mace's life. That, as he's being unbalanced and has trouble reaching the Force, it's not a bigger deal. That there's very little sense of spirituality connected to Mace's connection with the Force.

But the caveat about this is--that's kind of necessary for the story that the author is telling, because I think this is a book about Mace walking alongside the road of another life that he could have had, that he finds a connection with the people and romance (which I think is furthered by how thin the romance felt because it was serving a point about Mace's life more than it was a fully-fledged romance, in my opinion) and family--and that that life is valuable, that that life has love and warmth and connection and righteousness.

And that Mace Windu still chooses the Jedi.

That he would not be anywhere near as complete a person as he is without the path of the Jedi.

I think ultimately the point of the book is to give Mace that other path so that he can realize, yes, he did choose the Jedi, yes, the Jedi were loving and fair with him, yes, the Jedi are his family, yes, being a Jedi is what fulfills him even when there are other options. That those other paths are valid and yet the Jedi is the path for him.

There are things I would quibble with in the writing (primarily that I think there has been more joy in Mace's life than the author writes), but beyond that I think this book is incredibly thoughtful towards what I really needed it to be--that, while it may not mean the same thing in a galaxy far, far away, we're still reading it from our society and Mace Windu is a Black man and that comes with a lot of underlying context, especially when it comes to his anger.

This book felt to me like it was always aware of that, that the author (probably as a Black man himself) didn't shy away from that there was a riot of feelings in this character, that he felt protective anger and was a lethal warrior, while also being stern of face much of the time, things which are often demonized in this character, but here it was always in service of how that gave Mace depth and made him both a worthy central character and a good man. Mace cared deeply and part of that care was his anger that he turned towards Vaapad (which has been recanonized now!) in a way I ultimately found very fitting on a grand scale.

I was nervous going into this book, because Mace is a character that I'm so invested in and feel protective towards because of the shit that gets flung at him, and I feel like this book and I were at the very least in the same chapter and often even on the same page together with regards to him. I always felt that this book loved Mace as a character even if I might disagree on some particulars, and let me tell you that was a joy to read.

There are so many moments in this book that were an absolute joy to read (there are two different scenes between Mace & Anakin that sent me over the moon), so much of Mace's value of the Jedi and his path as a Jedi are at the heart of the book--even when it might not seem like it, ultimately the point is that, yes, Jedi can and do question their path, because they want their people to be certain this is the right one for them. This is a book about separating Mace out from that path, both physically and psychically, and having him rebalance himself and recognize that being a Jedi just is who he is and who he chooses to be, every day.

I can only give my view of this book and I will admit to stumbling a time or two with it, but by the end of it, I felt it was incredibly supportive of Mace as a character, that it was very Jedi-positive (even when it might not seem like it, it's usually going somewhere with the structure, somewhere I was vindicated by), and that the author wrote some absolutely banger lines that I'm going to be screaming about in a liveblog and that the worldbuilding was so good, I wish the author had had more space for building Jedi stuff.

It's an absolutely wild ride of a story (the action was really good and the harshness of the fighting added a necessary edge to the story that I thought worked really well for what the author was building with Mace's character), the story sailed right along smoothly, and I'm satisfied with what we got of it, I would definitely recommend to Mace fans and even Jedi fans. A few caveats about how I would let the story play out if you get wary in the middle, that it's not perfect, but that it's good and it loves Mace Windu as much as we do.

[parkerluvsu]

Could u write some Patrick angst where you guys are in a solid relationship but Patrick tries to breakup w reader bc he’s never been in a genuine relationship so his own insecurities take over? Happy ending tho if possible🥹

yes i can <333 sorry this is long and it kind of takes a while to get to the point i hope you like it anyway 😭

- as long as you've known patrick he's been known as a "playboy", previous room mates attesting to the fact that a new girl was leaving his room every night. patrick didn't know what he was looking for, there were no common links between his flings and he didn't care, he would buy them a drink and nod at their stories before he invited them back to his room, sending them on their way once he got what he wanted.

- you met patrick through a mutual friend in college, you didn't see too much of him because he was always late to class or never even showed up. of course, his grades started to slip and his parents noticed, immediately looking for a tutor for him and settling on you, since you were "friends". as it turns out it's pretty hard to contact someone who doesn't even have contact names for people, just " brunette from bar" and "chick from biology". you finally got a hold of him and told him the arrangement, he didn't like it (to be expected) but his parents threatened to not support his dreams of becoming a tennis star if he didn't get good grades, so he settled.

- outside of his frequent escapades, patrick was a nice person, he actually did listen and ask questions the whole time you were explaining problems to him. once he actually get to know you a little bit (simple things like how you always complain about being thirsty but never bring a drink, or only use pens and never pencils, not caring if it's more trouble when you make a mistake), he respects you and your time more and doesn't skip lessons as much and actually does his homework.

- once you become friends on a bit of a deeper level, not just tutor and student, he talks to you about tennis, eventually inviting you to come watch him play. usually he's playing doubles with art, but you personally prefer the days when he's playing solo, you really get to focus on his talent and passion for the game that way. and patrick comes to look forward to seeing you in the stands at his games, art makes fun of him and pushes his shoulder whenever patrick gets distracted. he notices a weird feeling in his stomach when he does find a moment to look at you, smiling at how you're biting your nails and leaning forward on your seat.

- that night, patrick invites you to come to his victory party, he reasons that you helped him archive this victory by bringing peace to his academic life so of course you should come. you spend the night sipping on a drink in the corner of the room, given you only knew patrick and art, who were surrounded by admiring friends and family. just when you were picking up your coat and keys to leave, patrick was able to escape his fans and come over to you, his brows furrowing as he sees you're about to leave. "what do you think you're doing?" he asks, "you haven't even said hi tonight", if you were looking closer it would almost seem like he's pouting. you explains that you're tired, you don't really know anyone and honestly you'd rather just be in bed. "well lemme walk you to your car then yeah?", he helps you to put your coat on, ushering you out the door into the quiet street, ignoring your argument that it's really not necessary, fighting back with "a pretty girl like you shouldn't be walking alone late at night" and that shuts you up as you walk next to patrick, neither of you saying anything. it's a comfortable silence though, and you think back on your time with patrick and realize you've never really felt uncomfortable with him.

- once you get to your car safely you lean against your car to continue talking to him, thanking him thoroughly for walking you to your car, even though he had to leave his own party. maybe it was the glasses of champagne you had at the party or the way his skin glowed in the moonlight but you leaned in and kissed his cheek as an act of thanks. as you opened your car door to leave patrick did something he's never done to a girl, he made the first move, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. he didn't know what it meant for your relationship but he didn't care in the moment, all he knew was how soft your lips felt against his. when he pulled away it was clear you were both quite awkward, so he gets you into your car and told you he'd text you the next day. and another first, he actually did text you the next day.

- from then on your relationship blossomed, for how experienced patrick was, he wasn't experienced in the more romantic aspects of a relationship, but just like you taught him chemical symbols and equations, you taught him how to have an actual healthy relationship. but still, patrick feels like he should know all these things already, you shouldn't have to ask for flowers or ask to go on a romantic date, you should be with someone who knows how to treat you right. about 4 months into your relationship he couldn't stop himself from thinking this way, knocking on your door right after practice and praying you'd answer. when you do, he makes you sit down on your bed and explains the whole ordeal, ending it with "you deserve someone better than me, that can treat you better.. we have to break up". you're immediately confused, the reason that he wants to break up is so stupid you feel like you need to slap him. you don't, of course but you certainly give him a firm talking to, reminding him of all the things you love about him and he feels like crying, his head falling into your lap as he holds your hand. he'd never imagined being in a relationship like this, and he promises to make you feel as lucky as you make him feel everyday <33

[dogearedheart]

At The End Of All Things

"You know, Dean, I–" Cas pauses, his brows furrow. "I don't want you to feel like you have to carry this all on your own, because you don't. We're all stuck here. We are all hopeless and scared, and– I know it isn't much, but...I am glad it's us." "Yeah, I– me too, man. Me too." And who was Dean to want more than this? - or - The world is ending, and there is nothing Dean can do about it, but he isn't alone. He has Cas. They have each other. Dean just needs a little time. Because this story is, above all else, about hope.

Read more on Ao3

if you want to read a story about Dean and Cas at the end of the world tiptoeing around their feelings until they don't? well, this is the fic for you.

Snippet under the cut:

Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that leaks into his bones when he arrives and realizes that the lights in the cabin aren't on yet. He shakes his head and laughs at himself. This is ridiculous. Dean closes the door behind him and turns on the lights. It takes a few moments before the lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling turns on with a faint click. 

The place is decent. Most of the cabins have a similar layout, a big living room with a small kitchenette situation, a bathroom, and a bedroom or in Dean's case two bedrooms. They had managed to make themselves at home the best they could with what they had, and living with Cas turned out to be much easier than Dean had thought. In the shelter of these walls, it almost felt like they were living a normal life. Cas and Dean had spent hours on their shared sofa, planning and researching ways to stop the end of the world, but they'd also spent an equal amount of hours just talking, drinking, and simply... being. Dean justified their little roommate situation as something necessary for them to make progress in their big plan to get Sam back. So sharing a cabin with Cas had been, above all, a matter of convenience. 

"Are you going to stand there all night?"

Dean jumps slightly at the sound of the voice he'd recognize anywhere. "Jesus- fuck, Cas!" He puffs before turning around. Dean catches sight of his friend's silhouette – all broad shoulders and messy hair – in a corner of the room. 

"You look terrible." 

Dean can hear the amusement in Cas' voice as he pushes himself from where he is currently leaning against the doorframe of their bathroom. He walks a few steps in Dean's direction, and Dean moves without thinking, meeting Cas halfway, taking him in a tight embrace. Cas returns the hug without hesitation, and Dean feels his body relax against strong and comforting arms. On instinct, he buries his face in the crook of Cas' neck and takes a deep breath. Cas smells like cedar wood and smoke, he smells like soil and sweat.

Dean is finally home. 

"Good to see you too, man. You look–" Dean begins, but stops when he gets a better look at Cas under the artificial light of their kitchen. He glimpses at the dried blood on Cas' temple, then the black eye, and his busted bottom lip. 

He grabs Cas' shoulders, maybe a little too roughly, "Woah, what the fuck happened to you, man?" 

Cas just shrugs, eyes tired, but a soft smile adorning his lips. He loosens his grip around Dean's shoulders and takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides. The loss makes Dean frown, his hands move up on their own accord. It takes him a second to realize what he is doing, but when he does, Dean relaxes his face and crosses his hands over his chest. He leans against the kitchen counter behind him instead. 

Smooth, Winchester. Real smooth.

[hangesdarling]

before i let you go — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x fem!reader SYNOPSIS. You see your lover for one last time before being betrothed to a man you don't love. CONTENT. arranged marriage, implied abuse, unwanted pregnancy, cheating, angst, implied sex, pain, me putting unnecessary symbolisms WORD COUNT. 1.9k A/N. I miss Hange sm it hurts. I miss their love and now I know no one can give me the same feeling as they are. I regret thinking I'd be happy with someone else. ANYWAYS IM BACK. IDK HOW LONG BUT I MISS HANGE SM 😭 please bear with my shitty writing, i haven't written in three months 😭

Staring at your wedding dress, you should have felt excitement and anticipation of the comfort the future holds. Of being a wife and a mother. It was what the women around you taught you should become. However, the longer you stare at your wedding dress, the more your vision seems to blur. Suddenly, the floral walls of the new home where you sat seem to melt, pouring like wax into the polished floor. The birds sing outside in the warm morning as your world crumbles. In a fortnight, you will lose your last name, your life, and your most beloved. 

Your fingers clutched a nearly crumpled letter, the rim of your eyes hot with unspilled tears. Gently, you smoothened the letter in your hands, reading the words scrawled for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It read:

Let's meet again for one last time. — H

Hange. 

A whisper left your mouth as if saying it louder will draw attention. It was freeing to utter their name again. Hange. Your beloved. The one you'll be leaving behind in a fortnight. 

-

Marriage has always been a necessary insurance your family knew of. You grew up surrounded by mothers and wives telling you about security and eventualities alleviated by finding a man to marry. Usually, it will be someone from the Military Police, or a merchant. The more they tell their stories, the more their romance sounds like tragedy in your ears.  A tragedy that doesn't kill you but wears you away and diverts you from loneliness by having responsibilities. You're happy. You should be happy to be with a stable man, picked and approved by your parents. He will give you everything, money, and misery. Maybe you'll have enough time to learn how to love him when you don’t have to worry about money. 

However, all life has offered you so far is sadness and a growing human inside of you. It was too premature to stir yet its presence pervades your whole being, floating on the surface of your mind. The child belongs more to your fiancé’s than yours. After all, it was a product of trying to claim you, of him knowing that your heart belongs to someone else. He can do nothing about your heart so he planted something of his own inside you thus ensuring you'd stay. It hurts to think, it hurts to remember. You threw a shoal over your head and wished for any thought other than what you currently have. You just hoped that the brown of your child's eyes would be more like Hange's than its father's. 

-

You crossed over a green field overlooking a meadow littered with pink and oranges, sometimes, red flowers. The beauty of spring. The grass dancing around your ankles. It reminds you of the beautiful springs you spent here, something you need to leave behind too. 

Your footsteps grew light and slow as you reached Hange’s doorstep. Before you even knock, all you want to say is a thousand apologies for many things it'd take you ages to name. But the moment Hange saw you, there was no bitterness in their face but longing. They held you in a tight, wordless embrace. Their arms and hands spoke of how much they had longed to see you again. At that moment, you held them just as tight. You expected anger and bitterness from them. They've loved you for many years only for you to come one day at their doorstep pregnant and to be married to someone else. Their anger would have comforted you because that's what you think you deserve at every waking moment. And you felt more terrible knowing that they still care after all the pain you've caused them.

It wasn’t right.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say. No amount of apologies will take back all that hurt.

Hange didn't say a word and only pulled you inside where it was warmer. Your knees weakened, you wanted to kneel in front of them and apologize again. Your guilt was too overpowering that it didn't feel right for you to stand on the same level as they are. But as crippling as you felt, they still held you in their arms, you let them touch you the way they always used to. It felt selfish getting comforted by someone you hurt and yet you found yourself in their bed again. 

Your lips found theirs, your hands holding them like they'd slip away any second. A cry bubbled from your lips from how much hunger and yearning you felt for them the time you were apart. You wanted to erase all the traces of touch imprinted on your body that weren't from their hands. You longed for the time you were theirs and no one else's. How come it went to a time where only your love belongs to them? 

"You got here without trouble, right?" Hange asked as they pressed a kiss on your neck. You got what they meant and nodded. None of the people working for your fiancé followed or noticed you or so you hoped. 

"That's good," Hange tucked a stray hair from your face. The pain and longing shone through their eyes. "I miss you."

I'm sorry.

All you wanted was to apologize, the heavy burden in your heart remained knocking and present every time you looked at Hange. 

"I miss you too," you managed to say without crying. All the happiness that breathed life into your existence remained frozen in the past. It hurts to think that the traces of that life will vanish the moment you step out of their house. Why does your last happiness remain in a fleeting present? Gone in a blow of a wind? 

You cherished each touch, each kiss that made you shudder in the sheets. Only Hange loved you despite the way you want to crawl from your skin, to love even the parts of you you're too ashamed to acknowledge. 

Take me back. Take me back to what we used to be, you cried, your soul wailed. 

You held Hange close, blankets thrown over your bodies. You gazed around the room, capturing the place in your memory. Their rustic furniture, papers, and books were all over their desk, both your clothes were strewn on the floor, and a purple flower sat at their bedside table. You took Hange's glasses from beside the vase and gently wiped the lenses with the blanket. 

"You never clean your glasses," you said. 

"You always notice when they're dirty," Hange smiled. "And overclean them."

Hange noticed your smile, not loaded with grief for once. Just like the old times. 

"I wish I could always clean them for you," you muttered, checking both lenses again before putting it back near the vase. 

Hange chuckled, a smile crossing their lips as they paused. A contemplative, almost painful pause. Their momentary silence retrieved your attention. 

"Only if we can run away. Outside those walls and perhaps, beyond that. You can stare at flowers all day and I get to stare at you."

Their laugh sounded pained as if the happiness that should come with it got stuck in their throat. 

Hange shook their head.

"What am I even saying?" Their smile remained wistful. "You'd be a lot better back there. With a family, with kids. You told me once you want a kid. And a flower shop."

Their smile grew, remembering you tending to their garden. Or how they grew your favorite flowers but never admitted so. 

"You said you're opening a flower shop. How is it going?" Hange asked, the painful stirrings on their insides were masked by curiosity. 

You're finding an answer somewhere in your head. But the few words you found phased out of your mind the moment you look into their eyes. Their soft, warm brown eyes gazed at you with pure, pained love. You hid in their chest, trying to bottle the tears like you used to. But the heaves and sobs came and only grew louder the moment Hange held you to face them. 

"Y/N..." they muttered, wiping your tears the way they used to. They kissed you and rubbed your back to soothe you. That's all they can do despite their wishes to be more. They cannot stop time or slow it down nor they can shape both your circumstances. 

"I want to be with you," you sobbed. "I love you and your little experiments. I love picking flowers in a field on a Sunday morning while you read books or pick insects to show me." 

Your words gushed and spilled, the truth you wanted to deny yourself overcoming you. 

"I love it when we try to eat what's left of your burnt pancakes while overseeing your garden. I love the flowers you grow for me. I love the times we sneak out like teenagers so my parents won't see us," you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears spilling past your lips as you spoke. "I love waking up next to you in the morning. And when you come home safe to me after every expedition. I love that you still care for me even when we had fights, even when I complied with that marriage, even when I'll be married to someone else."

Hange listened, their hand gently stroking your hair. 

"And I hate that nothing good lasts forever because something at least should. You were my happiest infinity and yet I left you. What will I merit from a life of temporary comfort when my happiness resides with you?" 

Hange wanted to comfort you but didn't know the right words to appease the hurt housed deep inside you. You were still the same girl they loved, the girl who dreamed of a quiet life with them. 

"I'm sorry," you sobbed finally, uselessly wiping your tears. "I'm sorry you loved me."

"I don't regret that," Hange muttered with a kiss on your forehead. 

"But I do," you told them. "You’re better off with someone else.”

They sighed, enclosing you tighter in their arms. 

"I'm happy about what we had," they smiled. You can feel their voice right at your ear as you press your head against their chest. Something you've taken for granted for many years. "I know it feels miserable for us now. But it won't always be. That, at least, is comforting, isn't it? I'll be okay, knowing that you'll be happy eventually."

"I won't be," you cried. 

"Then come back to me when that time comes." Hange knew it was a bold thing to say. They can't visualize a place where you'd be happy together without someone or something trying to break it apart. But they had to try. If they can battle the uncertainty residing outside the walls of Eldia, maybe they can do the same for the relationship they hold dear. 

"I will," you answered. It was equally bold as their proclamation. You wonder if those promises will ever lose meaning. If coming back to your most beloved is even an option at all. Even temporarily, the hurt waned from your heart and was painted over by an irresolute hope. You pressed closer to their heart and said, "I'll see you again."

-

The sun filtered through the pink curtains, shining a warm hue against the sheets. You trimmed the flowers sitting by the window, the white petals complementing the purity of their surroundings along the floral patterns on the walls. You are in your new home. A place you should teach yourself how to love despite the affliction laced with every item. 

Your musings were cut short as you noticed a new paper on your desk. It was a fresh sheet folded in two, the embeddings faintly showing through the back. You didn’t need to open it to know who it came from. As you sit down to open the letter, you realize that the floral patterns on your walls are pink lilies of the valley. 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: reading together

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“If I didn't love you so much, I'd probably be strangling you right now,” you muttered, watching from your spot on the couch as Spencer broke the spine of the book he had just gotten.

Although you two were very skilled readers, which had brought you together in the first place, your book care habits were very different. You could stand him writing in the books and bending the pages, but the first time you saw the man break the spine of a book you almost screamed to stop him. You were the type who opened the pages only as much as necessary, loaded them into a special bag, and used only post-its and pretty bookmarkers in them.

“I already told you that this is more comfortable and gives life to the books”

“It doesn't give them life, it kills them” you sobbed dramatically, while you raised your feet a little so that he could take a seat on the couch and once he was, he took care of placing your legs on his lap “What is this one about?”

"Physics. I want some distraction”

“Oh, sure,” you laughed ironically, as if it were common to read physics books to clear your mind.

You had been reading, for a couple of weeks, The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks, because the movie was one of your favorites in your youth and you wanted to know how much the book delved into the story of both lovers.

You were used to these kinds of moments with him, because since you had started living together your literary discipline had improved, so you tried to continue with your reading while he started his.

Everything was fine until you tensed when you felt his hand coming down from the cover to hold your leg firmly. You looked down from your book and a shiver ran through you when you noticed that he was able to hold all the flesh of your limb with those hands; big, calloused, and warm, always so expert at touching you just the way you wanted. But Spencer was so focused on the book that he didn't seem aware of what he was doing to you, not even when he started to slowly stroke you with his thumb.

You tried to shake the distraction from your mind and focused on the printed lines, the only sound being the turning of the paper pages in your lover's book. Spencer's fingers traced patterns and drummed on your skin, to the point where you got used to it and stopped paying attention to the tickling he was doing with it.

“What happened to you here?” Spencer asked suddenly, feeling interrupted by curiosity to know the origin of the bump his fingers had touched. You closed your book slightly and looked up to see what he was talking about.

"That? I think it was from a fall when I was little.”

“Sometimes I'm surprised to think how many things I still don't know about you,” he murmured, with unexpected sentimentality. His hand went up and down your leg while he maintained a thoughtful attitude “You are like a book; I think I know you well enough and when I look at you again you have a different meaning or I find something new about you”

“At least I hope you don't break my spine” you laughed and you heard him laugh too. You readjusted yourself on the couch until you were sitting next to him and you placed a kiss on his cheek, so he took the opportunity to surround you from the side “No one had ever compared me to a book.”

“I like being innovative,” he said, quite proud of himself, feeling how you fit better against him.

Once again one of his hands remained busy on your body and with the other he kept the book open, taking a little more time than usual to turn the pages. You carefully opened your reading and continued to enjoy the tragic romance the story told, having your own happy romance at your side.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

[lyneys4]

primordial dream

lyney, reader-centric drabble

warnings: based on lyneys character story 4 — attempted suicide.

‘He felt he had no right to pour out his mind to others, and yet he must carry on with gritted teeth, for the price of a fall from such heights was more than he could bear.’

Your job was a difficult one. Having to consult the ones with regret in one long dream. A massive therapy session as you liked to call it. Today wasn’t any different. But you never expected to see the happy smiley magician that was talked about so fondly along the streets of Fontaine.

Floating in air was the first feeling he experienced. ‘Did I die?’ was his first thought. Embracing what he thought was death he felt a little regret. It was lonely floating in the clouds.

“Oi you there!” a yell that knocked him out of his trance. “Get down! What are you a balloon or something?” he instantly fell to the ground with those words.

‘Woah is this heaven,’ he thought to himself. He was surrounded around abnormally large forest of rainbow roses. Something you would never see in the real world “No you’re in purgatory,” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh so I’m dead.” he just seemed to accept it? Shouldn’t he know death feels different?

“Are you serious?” you asked him. He nodded his head not understanding a thing around him. “Oh I guess you are.” you looked at him stunned. “Get up,” you reached a hand out to him. “You’re not dead, or in purgatory.” He sighed.

“Did you wanna die?” you asked. “No I’m not entirely sure,” he honestly confessed. “Wow no one confessed their regret that easily. Usually they try to justify it.” you replied.

“So where am I?” he asked. “Not sure,” you shrugged. “It’s your world you know.” — “But why?” he asked. “Why did you jump?” your words conflicted him.

“I don’t know if you’re here to stop me from taking my life but all I feel right now is shame,” he blurted out coldly. “And it’s not helping me.” you realised your mistake. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that was out of line.”

“Lets have some cup of tea,” you lead him to what seemed to be your house. It was a large hollowed out Zaytun Peach. Like the ones in those fairytales where fairies lived and tended to the fauna of Teyvat. He stepped inside of your house, taking a seat at the table infront of him. “Miss Fairy, are you from Sumeru?” he asked. You were busy making tea when shot you that question.

“No? Don’t I look fully Fontainian?” you looked down at your dress which did not resemble one from Sumeru. “Uh no you do,” he scrambled to explain himself worrying that he offended you. “You live in a Zaytun Peach? They’re from Sumeru.” — “And they’re sooo yummy too!” you finished making tea serving it on the table, you grabbed out a basket of fruit as well. “Oh and Miss Fairy, where is that from?”

“Well, in fairytales, fairies live in hollowed out fruits?” He explained himself. “Being a fairy would be so cool. But I don’t have wings.” You sipped your tea. “Hm, I should really get to know you. What’s your name?” you asked. “Lyney,” he answered, “Yours?” You put a finger on your lips, “That’s not necessary. Miss Fairy will do.”

“Well?” you looked at him expectantly. “I’m not sure why I’m here or what to do,” he sighed taking his first sip of the tea you served. “This tea is quite tasty.”

“Ah, I got a lost one this time,” you lower your head in exhaustion. “What was that suppose to mean?” he questioned, but not in the ?! type of way it felt more like that … ?? type of way. That caught you off guard.

“You don’t understand a single thing here and I feel bad.” you sighed finished your cup of tea. “Should we go down memory lane? What do you wanna do?” Thinking hard about what he wanted to do you waited patiently for a response but none came out of his mouth. He just stared at you blankly.

“Ohhh okayyy,” you awkwardly try to fill in the silence “I’m not sure what I want. I know I want something but I can’t put my finger on it.” he confessed.

“Maybe that’s your problem.” you sighed. “I don’t get it?” he replied. “A mask.. Freminet said something like that.”

“Ohoho we’re getting somewhere!!” you smile excitedly as the world shifted to an empty opera house. “What happened?” he looked around confused. Just a minute ago he was in a Zaytun Peach and the next second hes standing on a lit up stage with you sitting directly across from him in the audience.

He observed the area around him while you sat on your chair expectantly. “Are you gonna put on a show or what?” you said. Around him was a bouquet of rainbow roses and a hat. Lyney placed the hat on his head grabbing the bouquet of roses.

“Point to a seat,” he told you, you looked around and point to the middle seat near the far left of the Opera House. “Watch this rainbow rose teleport,” he grinned — taking a singular rose from the bouquet, he wraps his hand around it making it disappear. You turn around in your seat to find a Lynette plushie holding onto the rainbow on the exact chair you had pointed to.

“Wow!” you were truly amazed. You haven’t seen his tricks before in person. You looked back at him, his expression wasn’t how people usually described ‘emptiness’ — his face was dull, eyes full of emotion.

You stared at his face while he was still fixated on the Lynette plushie. “Miss her?” you asked. “I do, maybe I don’t wanna disappear.” he sighed. “I’m full of charisma and passion right?” — “Yeah, until it’s too much for you. You struggle to even figure out what your feeling.”

“I don’t get it?” — “No one ever gets it,” you replied. “Well that’s stupid your like an all knowing fairy can’t you tell me what I’m doing here?!” he spat out.

“Sorry didn’t mean to interfere.” you apologised, “But you seemed too lonely for me to not do anything — you need to let people help you. ‘Father’ cares about you, Lynette and Freminet are waiting for you. You need to wake up,”

“Wake up?” he muttered. One thing you forgot to mention was your time in people’s dreams is limited. “Sorry I have to go now.” and you were gone in a blink of an eye. “Miss Fairy! Where did you go!?” he panicked.

Lyney ran out the Opera House to be met with a cliff. It reminded him of the day he received his vision but Lynette was here, so he ran the other way towards the Opera House but it was gone, instead he was standing infront of the House of Hearth.

Hesitant to move forward he takes smalls steps towards the doors and knocks on it, “Lyney? What are you waiting for,” a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in a long time. He turned around to see Caeser, the man who had taught him so much about magic. “You have so much ahead of you,” he embraced Lyney into a hug.

“Lyney?” ‘Father’ called out from inside the House of Hearth. “It’s time to eat, Lynette and Freminet are waiting on you.” Letting go of the hug Lyney was in, he entered the House of Hearth being greeted with his family, “Lyney why are you crying?” Freminet asked, “Lyney!” Lynette screamed out. That didn’t seem right? “Lyney!!” she yelled out one more time. Lyney’s eyes finally opened.

‘But just before he could plummet, a hand grabbed onto him — and from it, he felt a familiar warmth that drew his soul back into his body, steadying "him" within himself once more.’

“Oh my archons,” Lynette held Lyney tight embracing him in her arms, “I’m sorry Lynette,” he muttered. “Let’s go home,” she held his hand firmly as they walked home, it was awkward between the twins not wanting to talk to each other about what had happened.

Walking through the Court of Fontaine there was something that had caught the twin’s eyes. A shop filled with crystals, jewellery and rare goods, through the window they could see ‘Father’ and a girl sitting down drinking tea. “Is that ‘Father’, it’s so late at night?” Lynette said. “Who is the girl next to ‘Father’?” Lyney asked. The girl sitting across from ‘Father’ drinking tea was the same fairy he had seen just minutes ago.

“Y/N, I think, people say she’s like a miracle worker blessed by the Gods.” Lynette replied. “Y/N… I think we should go, we’re way past curfew,” Lyney’s hand still in Lynette ran with her to the House of Hearth.

“Oh! Arlechinno, aren’t those your kids?” you pointed towards the running twins. “Lyney.. thank you very much.” she thanked you. “He was a tough one honestly,” you sighed. “I don’t think you’re use to treating people your age, since you work with older clients.” Arlechinno commented. “Really? I didn’t notice he was my age.” you replied in surprise. “Well, i’ll pay you accordingly. Thank you for helping my kids.” you nodded as Arlechinno made her way out of your shop. ‘I wonder how he’ll grow up to be like?’ you thought. ‘Maybe we’ll cross paths again and not in a dream this time.’ you smiled at your thoughts finished the last sip of your tea.

[jimmy-j-james]

Any chance you could make a part two of Venom!Reader x Price, or a similar idea with Soap/Ghost? I think it's such a cool prompt

VENOM AU W/ SOAP AND GHOST

- Ghost x M!symbiote!reader & Soap x M!symbiote!reader

- Proofread:

- Genre: ???

- Synopsis: Drabbles on what it’d be like if Soap and Ghost had you as their symbiote, or more specifically their first impressions.

A/N: If anyone is wanting either drabbles for other characters, or full stories like Price’s, do request!

⚠️ Simon’s part is a bit graphic and more aggressive in nature⚠️

════════════════

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

Simon had found you while on a lone mission. The task at hand was simple. Walk in, grab the valuables (this case being the illegal scientific subjects), and get out.

Of course, the Brit wasn’t as lucky as the one tank for grabs was broken, the symbiote no where in sight.

The sight was a panic alone, but what further presented as eerie was the obscene sounds of wet flesh from above.

As Simon raised his gaze, he was shocked to find a black inky blob drop down onto his face. Pained noises escaping the man as the unlabelled thing forced its way into his maw before disappearing into his body.

Panting and shaking, Simon calls in the incident, called back for evac and an immediate check up with the base’s doctors.

The checkup had gone awful. He was sweating, hungry, and aggressive. Feral, that’s how the doctors described him.

They sent him in for an MRI, which had only caused more harm. In a strange fit of rage, Simon had even destroyed the machine. God knows how he had the strength to do such harm..

The strange behaviours only continued though. From general hunger to thoughts of cannibalism.. he’d express his concerns to Price again, earning himself a necessary time in solitary.

Pounding at the walls, screaming things he’d swear was out of his control. He felt insane and drained.

Lying back against a cold stone wall, that’s when Simon met the parasite. He had thought it was trick of the eye, but no.

A slick and slimy tendril traced out from beneath his sleeve, snaking down onto the floor as grasping hold of a small mouse that had been idly picking through rubble.

Simon watched out in horror as the creature strangled the small creature. Inside he thought back to the men he had killed in similar ways, but something about the way this small mouse was slowly being killed.. it scared him.

The tendril slowly retrieved the dead mouse, dragging it up to the head it had poked out from Simon’s shoulder.

The crunch alone scared traumatized the Brit, shooting up in a panic as he banged on the door desperately. Shouting out about the alien.. something passers would ignore on claims of him being insane.

“You are scared?” A low, raspy, and grotesque voice calls out from behind Simon, another small tendril slipping up his neck, beneath his mask. “They will not help you like I can. You want love, I can be that.”

The tendril is cold to the touch, dragging goosebumps along the man’s skin. A stuttered exhale leaving Simon’s scarred lips. He can’t help the way the touches relax him, an unexplainable phenomenon.

“You like this?” The creature purrs, almost tauntingly. “You humans are such needy beings.”

To you, Simon was a needy man. He practically lived off your touch and praise. Completely and solely dependent on you.

It was such a contrast to his past shell of being. The old Ghost, the one that would berate him for being so clingy to this alien.. but to him, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you.

He fed you his victims, devoted his life to you. Saw upon you as a god rather than a parasite. A blessing even.

No one knew if it was a good or bad change for the bloke, but one thing was certain. Don’t bother trying to remove you from his body. If you were to be removed, either you’d let the man die, or he’d let himself die. Both of you needed each other, and no one could take that from you.

════════════════

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

John had found you after running loose within a crash site. He had happened to pass by the crash of your ship, to which you had taken it upon yourself to use him as a host, without his knowledge of course.

He hadn’t noticed until days had passed. He was constantly craving weird things.. chocolate at first but then live animals. Next was the ungodly fevers he faced. Constantly sweating, and not your average amount either. Drenched head to toe in the stench. It was so bad to the point he was forced on medical leave, forced into bed rest while studied by the many doctors on base.

All was fine until they had him in a MRI. He freaked, or more so, whatever possessed him did. It was painful and traumatic. Seeing the sickly black mess slide across the floor. The doors were immediately locked, trapping him inside with it. Better him than the whole base, huh?

It’s what caused the alien creature to reattach to his body, to the life source it needed. It was what provoked the first verbal contact with said being.

“They want to hurt us.” It echoed throughout the Scot’s thoughts. Causing the man to stammer and desperately disagree.

“M-me? No, no, no! They’re after you!” He argued in turn, accent heavy in the moments of his panic. “Steamin’ jesus- get out of my body! Out of my head!”

To anyone else, the man looked absolutely insane. Fisting into his Mohawk, screaming on into an empty room. He remained like that, all until the other being spoke again. An grotesque tendril slipping out from his wrist, wrapping around one of his fingers.

“They don’t understand you like I do, John.”

The knowledge of his name alone had Johnny choking up. He was scared beyond belief. This had to be some cruel joke, maybe even the side effects of a bad concussion? But no. This was real. The thing was real. And he was stuck with it.

You thought of Johnny as the perfect specimen. Destructive and dependent of social praise. But those things didn’t matter anymore, he had you!

You kept him alive and well, refusing to detach from the Scot without harm caused. You truly were a parasite to him.

It had taken him awhile, but he had eventually learned to accept and care for you. Truly the perfect specimen.

════════════════

[theyoungeragrippina]

✨ 15 gentlebeard fic recs ✨

i have spent the last month trawling the pages of ao3 for you, dear reader, to find the best ofmd fics. all the works on this list:

are longer-form (generally 40k+)

have no steddyhands (simply not my thing)

are generally, all around brilliant (well-written, had me kicking my feet and giggling, laughing, or crying)

are complete!

part 2 and part 3

A Heart Unsated by roughwinds

48k, explicit

"Stede Bonnet has just moved into Orange Crescent. There’s a house on the corner, opposite Stede’s own, with a garden full of flowers and a gleaming motorbike on the driveway. He’s forgotten to buy sugar.

Edward Teach has his morning disturbed by his new neighbour. Enamoured at first sight, he invites Stede round for a chat, and then another, and then another.

This is the story of them."

man i normally avoid fics with lots of alma and louis in them because its just not for me, but literally every second of the family bonding in this was so wholesome i was forced to change my entire mind.

all you left me was a pearl by @sightofsea

88k, mature

"1717. The Golden Age of Piracy. Stede Bonnet sets about wooing the love of his life through any means necessary.

Things do not go as planned."

every day i wish for a precise memory erasing potion to be invented so i can read this again for the first time. i would devour like 2000k more words of this if it was offered to me. brilliant.

forgive & forget by @fool-for-luv

44k, mature

"It hits him then, like a wave breaking on sand, loud as thunder when it crashes, then trickling away into little rivulets flowing back home, murmuring one word over and over and over. Ed.

The problem is, Stede doesn’t recall ever having met anyone named Ed."

so sweet and wonderful, and i wish there was more.

#gentlebeard is trending! by regional_catastrophe

41k, teen

"In which Stede accidentally convinces the pirating world that Gentlebeard (or Blackbonnet or Stedward; there's a poll) is canon, reunites his crew, and gets his boyfriend back."

hilarious & silly & great, but also the most compelling notes of any fic i've ever read. a proper learning experience.

if music be the food of love (then darling, you're a feast) by @fool-for-luv

107k, unrated

"“Hey, so, those two, right, they get together in the end?” Ed asks.

“I would protest spoiling it, but I think it's rather obvious, isn't it?” Stede says. His nose wrinkles as he smiles. “The tension is certainly there from the beginning. It just takes them a while to get there.”

“Good. Would have been a shit story otherwise.""

i love sassy stede and i love ed who is a grump and i love that they share one single braincell at any given time.

If You Were Mine to Keep by @mysterybees

162k, explicit

"Caught between the gallows and the end of an English sword, Ed accepts the Act of Grace: marry into the aristocracy, leave the English ships alone, and live to sail another day. But who in their right mind would ever agree to marry the mad devil pirate Blackbeard?"

Worth every second of tiredness I felt after pulling an all nighter to finish reading.

It's Only Right by hexuponye

53k, explicit

"A modern AU based on Imagine Me & You, in which Edward is a florist who does the flowers for Stede's wedding."

mary gets to be a little silly sometimes too as a treat.

pliocene by unfortunatelyobsessed

75k, mature

""man, it's just ocean for miles.” Ed motions out to the waves, where there is no sign of any sort of ship, their small dinghy pulled far up on the sand. “I told you when the clouds look like seagulls you take fuckin' cover. Goddamn ocean mutinied me.”"

william golding wishes he did something this brilliant and significant when he wrote Lord of the Flies. the best deserted island story.

quite a career shift by @stedesparasol

157k, explicit

"Stede's been posting book reviews on Youtube for two months now. It's taken him that long to finally get a comment, and the person it comes from is rather unexpected."

rip stede you would've LOVED booktube. furious i can never really watch his content.

Semaphore by komodobits

124k, explicit

"Talking things through as a crew is easier said than done, and honest communication has never really been Stede’s strong suit. When it comes to Ed, he is willing to try."

so good that i was properly and truly laughing and gasping and 'oh no-ing' out loud while i read it.

Such Joie de Vivre by @louciferish

94k, explicit

"Professional thief Edward Teach is tired of hole in the wall apartments, shitty pub food, and skipping town every few months to keep the cops off their tail. He’s well past the age he meant to flee the country and retire, and all he needs is One Last Job to set him up for life. When he hears that some rich bastard outside of town has just the sort of treasure he’d trade his good knee for, Ed sets out in disguise to get the lay of the land."

i (so so foolishly) avoided reading this for a while because i simply didn't think i was one for nanny aus. i was so, terribly wrong. don't make the same mistakes i did. showstopping. incredible stuff.

The Chains of Flowers are Fragile Things by @grandmastattoo

62k, explicit

"Stede can't see the shop he's inherited from his late father as anything other than a burden, another insult added to a life that's going nowhere fast. Then he meets the charismatic man who owns the tattoo studio next door, and Stede finds himself forced to consider the idea of home."

maybe i love tattoo shop owner ed fics, sue me. i love this stede and i love his embarrassing mistake tattoo.

The Love Experiment by karawrites

65k, mature

a married at first sight (aus) au. i didn't know i needed it until i read it.

Water/line by @the-gentleman-mermaid

60k, teen

"During a raid on a smuggler ship, Ed finds a merman named Stede locked in the hold."

So good that I would actually pay the author real person money to do a similar story but where Ed is the mermaid.

Where the Daylight Begins by @xoxoemynn

116k words, explicit

"Modern day AU slow burn featuring a pining Ed, a clueless Stede, found family, roughly a million animals, and a very magical house."

This one sort of gave me House on the Cerulean Sea vibes; it was so much fun and genuinely necessitates a proper use of the word whimsical.

[petalsprompts]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒; 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒓.

change pronouns, tenses and other details as deemed necessary. & please specify muse when sending to a mumu.

To   truly   love   another   person   is   to   accept   that   the   work   of   loving   them   is   worth   the   pain   of   losing   them.

And   in   time,   as   we   all   do,   she   admitted   all.   She   admitted   she   was   dead.

The  rooms  felt  larger  at  night,  as  though  the  house  itself  had  inhaled  deeply  as  the  sun  disappeared,  expanding  as  it  held  its  breath  for  the  morning.

It  was  an  emptiness  that  called  out  to  be  explored.

Though in truth,  her  first  look  at  [location]  yielded  no  discomfort,  no  foreboding.

People  are  superstitious,  especially  in  the  country.

So,  now  it's  a  story…  these  small  children  in  that  huge  house  with  their  dead  parents,  and  now,  their  dead  governess.

It's  okay!  You're  okay,  you're  okay!

I  cry  three,  maybe  four  times  a  day  around  here.  Five,  if  I'm  really  being  honest  with  myself.

I'm  going  to  start  counting,  and  it'll  be  your  turn  to  run  and  hide.  And  I'll  find  you.

She   would   sleep,   she   would   wake,   she   would   walk.

You   have   to   promise   me   that   you’ll   stay   in   your   room.   Don’t   leave   your   room   at   night.

It's   like   every   day   I   feel   myself   fading   away,   but   I'm   still   here.   I   don't   really   understand   how   that   is.

Nightly,   in   fact,   those   first   few   years,   a   dark   carriage   led   by   a   red-eyed   horse came to [location],  but he  was   denied   so   often,   in   fact,   that   Death   would   not   venture   there again.

You’re   slipping.   Stay   with   me.

She's   waiting.   And   at   some   point…   she's   gonna   take   me.

'Dead'   doesn't   mean   'gone'.

If   you   can't   feel   anything,   then   I'll   feel   everything   for   the   both   of   us.

People   do,   don't   they?   Mix   up   love   and   possession.   I   don't   think   that   should   be   possible.   They're   opposites   really:   love   and   ownership

You   know   what   life   is   really   all   about?   Keys.   See,   people   are   like   locked   rooms.   They’ve   all   got   different   locks   and   you’ve   got   to   guess   the   shape   of   their   key.

It's   scary,   I   know.   But   you   have   a   past,   and   you   have   a   future.   Now,   I'd   argue   you   can   count   on   both.

Any   of   us   could   die,   at   any   moment.   Or   we   could   forget   our   entire   lives,   which   is   like   dying.

This   memory   one   of   my   favorites.   I   don’t   find   myself   in   this   one   often.

One   day   at   a   time   what   we've   got.   It's   all   everybody's   got,   when   you   get   down   to   it.

He   has   spent   too   much   of   his   life   alone.

Where   would   we   be,   we   wretched   people   without   the   generosity   of   our   betters?   And   luck

Change   is   emergent…   by   the   time   one   realizes   it   has   arrived,   it   has   already   set   its   teeth.

From   here   on   in,   the   shadows   get   deeper,   the   nights   get   longer.

We're   heading   into   the   dark,   and   we   have   to   hang   onto   each   other.

You   said   it   was   a   ghost   story.   It   isn't.   It's   a   love   story.

Death   is   something   to   mourn,   not   fear. 

I   wouldn't   leave   without   you,   and   I-I   won't   leave   without   you   now.

All   things   fade.   All   things.   Flesh,   stone,   even   the   stars   themselves.   Time   takes   all   things.   It   is   the   way   of   the   world.

You're   right   there.   You're   right   there,   and   I   can't   even   touch   you!   I   can't   smell   you,   I   can't   feel   you.   It's   not   fair,   it's   not   fucking   fair!

There's   a   difference   between   feeling   good   and   feeling   alive.   The   two   aren't   always   the   same.

You   couldn't   see   me,   not   right   away.   I   had   to   figure   out   a   way   to   make   it   so…   so   that   you   could   see   me.

The   others,   they   say;   "stay   away   from   her."

The   beast   had   lurked   indeed,   and   the   beast,   at   its   hour,   had   sprung.

Everyone   is   exhaustive.   Even   the   best   ones.

The   living   must   decide   what   they   can   or   cannot   bear.

We   can’t   count   on   the   past.   We   think   we   have   it   trapped   in   our   memories,   but   memories   fade   and   they’re   wrong.

Toss   in   offerings   to   drive   away   evil   spirits,   bones   mostly;   build   a   pile   of   old   bones   and   burn   away   the   shadows..

The   world   is   fierce,   but   you   are   fiercer.   And   someday,   you   will   move   mountains.

I   wasn't   going   to   ask   you   if   you're   alright   because   I   don't   like   being   lied   to.   So,   what's   wrong?

It's   so   quiet,   it's   so   quiet,   but   she's   in   here.   And   this   part   of   her   that's   in   here,   it   isn't   peaceful.   It's…   rage.

Humans   are   organic.   We   are   meant   to   die.   It's   natural.   Beautiful.   And   it   all   breaks   down,   and   rises   back   up,   and   breaks   down   again.   And   every   living   thing   grows   out   of   every   dying   thing.

He   stayed   at   her   side   until   she   was   buried,   and   he   loved   her   the   whole   way.

I   have   this   feeling   like   I'm   walking   through   this   dense,   overgrown   jungle,  and   I   can't   really   see   anything   except   the   path   in   front   of   me.

But   I   know…   there's   this   thing   hidden   out   there.   This   angry,   empty,   lonely   beast.   It's   watching   me.

[red-elric]

i think what a lot of ppl miss about the nuance when it comes to the retcon is that the POINT of it is that its a bad ending. homestuck is designed to be a tragedy and it was never going to end well; its frankly ridiculous to try and shoehorn in a scenario where none of the current main characters are dead when the story is ABOUT death. its not narratively satisfying at all like this! but thats not what the kids wanted (and, more to the point, thats not what the FANS wanted. newer fans DEFINITELY miss the fact that homestuck was written as a conversation between hussie and the fans, a conversation that turned into an argument halfway through and led to a lot of things being taken in bad faith on both sides. but i digress; this is a watsonian post)

the retcon powers are very VERY explicitly described as the ability to change the alpha timeline. the 'whats supposed to happen' of it all, the premeditated narrative the story was written to fill. conversely, when aranea used the ring of life to come back and meddle, she is explicitly described as 'causing a doomed timeline.' and like, the thing about doomed timelines is that theyre meant to happen as much as theyre meant to be fixed. theyre how paradox space accounts for and incorporates time travel, and the existence of the doomed timeline is often NECESSARY for the alpha timeline to function. thats how you get davesprite, thats how the aradiabot that brought gamzee's honkHONK code back from his crazy murder timeline contributed to doc scratch's creation, thats why every dead dave helped the alpha timeline dave figure out what to do. if vriska was meant to have never died in the first place the timeline wouldve been doomed long before game over. the ring went to the wrong person, and thats the kind of simple fix sburb was expecting to solve with some time travel to get things back on track

the ring was supposed to go to someone else. probably vriska! from the alpha timelines perspective, it wasnt that long after her confrontation with john that she really changed and grew as a character. that she became someone who deserved a second chance. imagine: john uses his retcon as normal time travel, the way sburb comprehended it through the limitations of its code. he takes the ring before aranea can, goes to the dream bubbles, and has another conversation with vriska. maybe she doesnt even really want the ring anymore, and thats exactly the kind of thing that would convince john to give it to her. and she agrees, because he tells her terezi is waiting for her. they go back, they have the final fight, and people die. maybe they dont come back. but its the group of characters who earned the ending, who we watched grow up for three years

but thats not what happened, and it was never going to be what happened, because as narratively satisfying as it could have been? john and terezi wanted something different. john wanted everything to be OVER and terezi wanted the chance to make a different choice, even if it was wrong. theyre selfish; theyre kids. theyre tired of being characters in a story, of someone else pulling their strings. thats what typheus's choice was about, you know? and john made the wrong choice. some other version of john could have fixed things the "right" way, had our john decided to die instead. to accept the consequences of the doomed timeline and let pardox space fix it. hell, between roxys first instinct to just sit and let the void take her and terezis pointy horns offering a counterpoint we have some pretty blatant devil/angel on the shoulder imagery! and john making the same wrong choice he did when terezi first told him to fly to the seventh gate, except this time there was no davesprite on angel wings, no one left alive he cared about enough to listen to. because as much as john felt like he was SUPPOSED to fall for roxy, the girl version of his fathers lover, someone strongly associated with his half of karkat's shipping chart but without the complication of being a lesbian, someone HUMAN to repopulate the world with cut out of his apocalypse movie fantasies...... terezis way of thinking has always appealed to him more. because as much as he pretends its not true, john doesnt like to take things lying down, and he doesnt like when other people do either. he gets bored! hes attracted to the danger and morally grey self confidence terezi and vriska exude, so. he listened to terezi, and they brought vriska back.... without any of the character development she had gone through.

and its a bad ending, because of course it would be. and thats the point :) it was stupid to think two kids could meddle with the fate of the universe and it was stupid to think that these kids could have a happy ending so easily. but can you really blame them?