#we will see that healing become more and more evident

[kawaiichibiart]

I think we need to talk about the fact that two of Mafuyu's trained cards depict her as a nurse, but that's the only thing they really have in common.

Because looking at them next to each other, you can really see a difference. And I don't mean design wise or anything like that. I'm very specifically talking about Mafuyu herself.

The first has her tangled in vines and thread. Like she's being held down, wouldn't you agree?? Everything behind her is bright and blending in together. Her uniform is also light (in the trained card). And when you see what it actually looks like, different shades of gray (some with purple tones) it feels clear that she's being affected by thet white light. It gives off the feeling of "This is good. This is good for you. Your clothing are a pristine and light in color. The flowers, leaves and vines are all bright, making them beautiful."

And the way she's sitting looks almost as if she was either forced onto the ground or like she wants to escape but doesn't know how. She's stuck. And again, with the vines and thread, she's being held down. Trapped. And just looking at her face, she looks like she wants to cry. Like she wants to cut/snap those vines and threads holding her down but can't.

But the second? She's so much happier in the second. The room is darker but the lighting still makes it bright. But rather than bright white like the first, it's blue. She's on the ground, but she isn't struggling. She's wearing brighter colors. Her uniform is blue. Like, actually blue. Blue and pink. And considering when this takes place. After she opens up about her feelings. After she runs away. After she tells her dad what she wants and how she feels, and unlike her mom, who tried to guilt and manipulate her, he apologized...

It doesn't surprise me that in her second trained nurse card she looks happy. She looks like things are looking up. Like things can be better. Like maybe she can be who she wants to be. She's on the floor but nothing is tying her down anymore. She isn't struggling anymore.

In short: it looks like she's healing.

[comicaurora]

If you were a sci-fi writer, how would you solve the Fermi paradox? That being the discrepancy between evidence for alien life, versus the likelihood of their existence? (basically. If alien so likely, why we not see?) The Dead Space series has an amazing cosmic horror solution, but i'm curious what you're brain could come up with!

There's a lot of possibilities, some more interesting than others.

The speed of light and the distance between inhabited stars makes it prohibitively slow to detect, make contact with, or reach any star with alien life. It doesn't matter if we're not alone, our corner of Space Reachable Within A Human Lifetime is so comparatively small that we may as well be. We're all blindly wandering through an infinite desert, calling into the void. Space exploration is a long game, and on that timescale, even whole civilizations blink out very quickly. If we manage to catch a signal and follow it, we might find nothing on the other end but ruins - or an asteroid field where a planet's orbit used to be.

The universe is too young for us to find anyone else out there. We're the first. How will we shape the galaxy to make life better for those who come after us?

The life that formed on Earth is terrifyingly invasive. The atmosphere and ocean is choked with monocellular life, and its surface is coated with a mass of multicellular organisms finding new ways to devour one another. Even extinction events don't keep down the biomass for long. If life on other planets looks anything like us, the problem isn't going to be detecting it. It'll have gotten everywhere. The problem is going to be not immediately getting colonized and eaten alive by it. And if life on other planets DOESN'T look like us, our whole planet is probably a class 1 biohazard and contamination risk. Multicellular earth organisms contain microcosmic ecosystems that proliferate explosively when they die. If anything inside them can find ANYTHING to eat, it's over.

Life evolves frequently, but always in oceans. It is extremely rare for any alien life to leave that ocean and adapt to life on land. Without this step, the jump to space exploration - even space contemplation - becomes infinitely more unlikely.

Monocellular life is seeded on planets from an outside source and allowed to self-cultivate and grow until the biomass reaches a certain volume. Then the farmers return to harvest it.

There is not a single other species on our entire planet that humans can actually reliably communicate with. It takes tremendous amounts of training to make an animal capable of recognizing even a handful of words, and very few of them can use them. Humans can't even communicate with other humans with 100% clarity, even if they're using the same language. When we find alien life, if we even recognize it as anything resembling life as we know it, we have absolutely no way of communicating.

Space colonialism has been disallowed by the space geneva conventions due to massive past tragedies, parasitic exploitation of worlds and senseless loss of life. Human expeditionary efforts are being watched warily through targeting sights.

We've known about radio communication for less than 200 years. We haven't yet figured out the medium through which all advanced civilizations communicate.

Alien life exists in abundance, but the vast majority of it is extremely tiny. We wouldn't spot an anthill on a satellite photo, and none of their ships are large enough to survive passage through our atmosphere.

Earth's oxygen atmosphere is an anomaly, and our first and most enduring extinction event. The explosive proloferation of cyanobacteria and their oxygen photosynthesis irreparably altered the planet's prebiotic atmosphere and wiped out everything that couldn't handle the sudden massive increase in a highly reactive and flammable gas. Earth is considered highly toxic and unstable, though recently detected increases in methane and CO2 might signal that nature is finally beginning to heal.

[class1akids]

"I like food"

I saw many posts people saying how random Shouto's line is about praying at Touya's altar and realizing that he likes food - and I wanted to point to how it helps wrapping up his arc.

Shouto is saying: "When I was praying at Touya's butsudan (Buddhist altar), I suddenly realized something, I liked eating food. I realized there's more to me than just the person I want to become."

Food was a "negative space in the Todoroki family, so liking food was not evident to Shoto growing up.

In Shouto's flashbacks with his family, we never see him eat food. His only memory tied to the kitchen is the kettle incident. We know from Natsuo that Shouto ate alone, a diet prescribed by Endeavor, no doubt all geared towards maximum performance, rather than enjoyment. Not even knowing your siblings favorite food is the ultimate symbol of how dysfunctional the household was.

2. Food was a positive space in Class A - tied to comfort, bonding, friendship

In class A, Shouto starts eating with Iida and Midoriya after the Stain incident. Food becomes comfort, connection, sharing, caring, teamwork, etc. He experiences things like using his fire to prepare food together, eating together, cleaning up.

Many memorable Shouto-scenes are tied to Class A eating together (e.g. heroes cry too) and he connects to Inasa over a discussion about favorite foods (udon vs soba) which is a theme that carries over to his endgame with Touya

3. As the Todoroki family tries to reconnect, food plays a central role

As the family changes, they attempt to reconnect around the family dinner table (the famous sluuurp scenes). But Todoroki dinners end in a disaster - still they are useful bringing to the surface important conflicts and trying to communicate about them (another important theme discussed in Shoto Rising).

There is more in the light novels: Shoto's and Rei's decade late reconnection as Rei offers him a little kid strawberry milk that she remembers he liked when he was 5, and their attempt to connect with Natsuo ending up in a mush of ruined soba - it's all out of sync.

4. Food as a symbol of lost time and broken futures

Food is also very central for the hopes of a happier future: Enji's dream of his family at the dinner table, Natsuo's regret about years of missed meals, Shoto wanting to share noodles with Toya, all culminating in the heartbreaking realization that they have the same favorite food they'll never get to share.

5. Food as a symbol of processing grief and healing

Praying at the butsudan (the Buddhist altar at home set up for a deceased loved one) involves the preparation of offerings of food and drinks, which then the family eats afterwards. We see this practice referenced in Ch 249 when Enji prays at Toya's altar.

So Shouto making a reference to it is a shorthand for telling us that Touya died at some point, Shouto is still grieving him and just like Deku and Ochako, he's trying to make sense for himself out of their short encounter. So wanting to learn how to make chopsticks and bowls (a traditional Japanese craft of woodwork and applying lacquer, often involving intricate patterns) implies that he wants to bring Touya the perfect offering, but also that he's finally stepping outside fully of the framework Endeavor created for the family, where children are cast into roles of heroes, villains and by-standers, masterpieces and failures but never human beings. He's thinking about what connects him and Touya together and who they would have been in a different story.

6. Shouto's personal arc

Shouto's character was always about balance. Balance between past and future, ice and fire, duty and family, etc. So crafting chopsticks and bowls to elevate good food connects the grief and survival guilt with healing and growth. It is both a tribute to Touya's memory and a new possible hobby to express still undiscovered sides of himself.

It fits the theme of the chapter "More" - as it focuses on what lies beyond being a hero, reaching a goal, working hard and how Izuku, Ochako and Shouto have been transformed by their experiences of trying to save their villains.

But it also fits Shouto's personal arc that was about discovering who Shouto really is. Earlier in the chapter, Shouto refers to being constrained into the framework of a bigger story, where his choices are bound to happen. As a hero of the sidestory of that manga, Shouto has no choice but decide what kind of a hero he wants to be (not-Endeavor, like All Might, reassuring, family hero). Encounters with his family helped crystallized this image of himself.

But now that he's being released from this story, he can look outside of the framework of a hero manga and discover those "more sides than just a hero". And Touya was the last encounter - the last piece of that puzzle. I think there is a parallel in how Tomura destroyed much of hero society - Touya also destroyed the foundations of the Todoroki family, so something different can maybe built.

Without Touya, I think the family would have kept at trying to piece themselves together in a tense, fake kind of peace to keep up appearances. If nothing else, Touya's actions tore through that need of saving face - leaving them all exposed and grappling with the harsh realities of their actions. But I think it also allowed the younger siblings to step outside the cage their parents created for them and build things better from scratch. It allows them to find more sides to themselves outside of the logic of the Todoroki household.

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part five)

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Danny sat back with a wince, watching as Bruce and his butler (The man introduced himself as Alfred) collected themselves. Jason's book was now sitting on a shelf, displayed for everyone to see. Bruce's desk was moved back into place, and the chairs were repositioned. There wasn't any evidence of what had just occurred.

"would you like me to get you a rag, young sir?" Alfred asked, turning to glance at Danny with a raised brow.

Danny lifted his hand and gently touched his nose, hissing when it stung and throbbed. Pulling his hand back, Danny found his fingers covered in blood.

Well, that was going to be hard to explain later...

"yeah, thanks." Danny finally agreed, moving his hand back to hopefully keep more of his blood from staining his hoodie. His ectoplasm was just begging him to heal it, but he held back, watching as Bruce turned to face him.

The man was no longer crying his little emo furry heart out or blinded with rage. Instead, he was standing still with a calculative gleam in his eyes. Danny just knew the man was going to do a background check as soon as Danny left. (Or when Danny wasn't paying attention, he was Batman after all. Who knows what he was going to do?)

It's a good thing there was nothing that connected him with Phantom. Besides the drop in grades and convenient absences, but that can be excused by the trauma of his accident and all the ghost fights. Otherwise, Danny would be screwed.

No one besides Jazz and Wes has been able to figure it out, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He's retired now, or well, was retired. He might be getting back into the crime-fighting part again, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep from getting pulled back into ghost-fighting and dealing with the occult every day.

He could handle following Batman around at night and punching a few goons here and there, but the ghost fights? The world ending catastrophes? The annoying cult summoning? He didn't think he could handle it again. And sure, if there was no other option he would go out and protect the world. (It would be very shitty of him not to if he could do something when no one else could. He lived here too, you know.)

But that's not his job anymore. No, that's what the Justice League is for. (was for... He had forgiven them for not being there for him when it mattered. They were here now. So it was fine. No, it wasn't) They're the ones who are protecting Earth now. They're the ones who have to drop everything and help save the world. Not him. Not anymore.

Maybe he could think of this as a really shitty vacation? Then once he's sure Batman is stable and that Tim won't do something stupid, Danny could go back to Amity and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he could even go to college?

"Why are you here?" Bruce asked, his calculated eyes still boring into Danny's head. Danny, having gotten used to ghosts popping up and speaking to him at all hours of the day, didn't flinch as he glanced back up at Bruce.

"To keep you from killing yourself, seriously dude. Did you not hear when I told you earlier?" Danny spat, pointedly wiping the blood off his chin.

Bruce barely even moved, but Danny could tell he had winced. Sensing people's emotions was going to become one of the more useful powers he had, wasn't it?

...

How long was his nose going to bleed, again? Didn't broken noses stop bleeding after a few minutes?

His core flared in annoyance, finally making him remember a very important fact.

He was half dead. As in his body doesn't heal or change without the influence of his ectoplasm. This means he's going to keep bleeding until he either doesn't have any blood to bleed or he lets his ectoplasm heal it.

Great.

That's not going to make Bruce suspicious at all. Nope. Definitely not.

Focusing on his nose, Danny let his ectoplasm rush to the area and start healing it, but held it back before it could do more than stop the bleeding.

Alfred entered the room not even a second later, "here you go, young sir. Just hold it there for a minute while I prepare my med kit."

Danny grabbed the rag handed to him and pressed it to his nose, ignoring the sharp pain. He watched as Alfred placed his med kit on the side table and started digging through it. After a few minutes, Alfred leaned back and pulled on some gloves.

"let me have a look," he demanded, turning to kneel in front of Danny. Danny sighed, removed the rag, and leaned forward to let Alfred get a closer look. The man clicked his tongue, but gently grabbed his face and studied the injury.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly in the background, looking like a child waiting to get scolded. Good. He was a grown-ass man for crying out loud, he should get scolded for breaking Danny's nose.

"Alright, this will hurt," Alfred said, moving his hands to gently rest next to Danny's nose. Danny, having dealt with many broken noses before, looked away from the older man and stared Bruce dead in the eyes.

With sure but quick movements, Alfred straightened his nose with a loud crunch. Bruce's eyes narrowed as Danny bit his tongue, keeping any other sign of pain to himself.

"There," Alfred sighed, "it was a clean break, so you'll only have to keep some gause on it until you go to the doctor. Master Bruce?"

Bruce grunted, before finally looking over to his butler. "I'm fine, Alfred."

"good," Alfred nodded, "then I shall put on some tea. In the meantime, I recommend you two have a civil conversation."

Danny leaned back, taking the wet rag Alfred handed to him, and cleaned his face. Now that his nose looked normal, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to start healing it. He didn't plan on seeing Bruce again anytime soon, so any bruises or swelling he should have, won't matter.

Alfred finished placing his medical supplies away and held his hand out for the rags, once Danny gave them to him, the man swiftly left the room. bruce will probably want to test his blood later now that Danny thinks about it. Well, that's definitely something Batman would do, Danny thinks.

Oh well, it's not like his blood would reveal anything. It's literally just his human blood. Now if he was bleeding as Phantom? This would be a whole other problem.

"Who are you and how do you know who I am?" Bruce grunts, stepping closer to Danny in an attempt to be intimidating. And it would have been if Danny hadn't just watched the man breakdown ugly crying not even thirty minutes ago.

Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back in his chair and huffed, "I told you this already. My name's Danny. I'm here to keep you from killing yourself. And it's pretty obvious who you are if you just think about it." Because it was obvious. Once Tim pointed it out to him, that is.

He wasn't about to just tell Batman that though, Tim didn't deserve to have the man breathing down his neck just for being smart enough to figure it out.

Before Bruce could respond, Danny's phone rang once, twice, then stopped. Glancing at the clock, Danny found it was only six. This meant, it was either Sam texting him to figure out where he was (which wasn't likely, since he usually disappeared in the mornings) or it was Tim.

Grabbing his phone, Danny unlocked it and was met with a message from Tim.

TIM: thanks for listening to me.

Before Danny could send a response, another text came through.

TIM: when did you want to meet up and discuss a plan? DANNY: tomorrow, after you get some sleep. TIM: I did! I took a nap! DANNY: not a long one. TIM: I'm not tired though! DANNY: Then pretend to sleep or something, I don't care. Could you just make sure you sleep before I text you tomorrow? please, kid? TIM: whatever. you're not even that much older than me, you know that right? Danny: sure kid.

"Who is that?" Bruce suddenly asks, making Danny glance up at him.

Shit, uh... "The kid I'm babysitting later."

You know what? That works. And it's technically true.

Bruce just hummed, allowing Danny to turn back to his phone.

TIM: I'm thirteen! DANNY: Yeah? Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen. Anyone under the age of fifteen is a literal baby. which makes you? that's right. a child. and what do children need? Sleep. They need sleep, Tim. TIM: I'm not a child! and if you've forgotten; I still have all the evidence proving that you're Robin. I'm petty enough to release it. DANNY: Go ahead. If it'll make you sleep at night.

Tim left him on read after not responding for a few minutes. Bruce had wandered over to his desk to work on something, probably Danny's background check.

Sighing, Danny sent a text to Sam letting her know he'd be busy for the rest of the morning and to let Tucker know. Once that was done, he shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up. Bruce glanced at him for a moment before going back to what he was doing, leaving Danny to look around the office.

Pictures were hanging on the wall, books covering the shelves, and random objects covering everything else. Basically, Bruce's office was filled with all sorts of things. Things that could give Danny an idea of who Bruce was as a person. Something he was going to need to know if he planned to stick around and help him. which he was. because he'd promised Tim that he would.

Reaching out, Danny picked up one of the photos and examined it. It was Bruce, Alfred, and some boy Danny didn't recognize, though they looked eerily like him. They could even pass as his clone if you squinted.

"Hey, Bruce," Danny started, "Who's this?"

Next

[rebeltarot]

YOUR UNIVERSE ➕ Who are you becoming now, and who are you meant to become?

"We can’t become what we need to be by remaining what we are."

[3 piles] ・ [3 decks] ・ [10 cards for each pile] ・ [letters, signs, songs]

Hello friends! It's almost International Women's Day, and I am so excited to share this reading with you. We are focusing on who you are becoming now, and who you are meant to become! Are you planning on rebranding yourself? Definitely let me know. I hope you'll enjoy this reading as much as I did doing it. See you on the other side! 🤭🤭🤭

Painting: The Rehearsal of the Ballet Onstage - Edgar Degas (1874)

Helpful Links: How to choose your pile ➕ Request a reading

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

© rebeltarot 2023-2024 - all rights reserved ・ do not steal, copy, change, or redistribute my content.

PILE 01 ➕

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

E, blank, E, I, 8th House, North Node, Cancer, "be fearless, change is good"

Song: BESIDE U - MONSTA X, Pitbull

CARDS

Tarot: 10 of cups, the wheel of fortune, 7 of pentacles, king of cups

Oracle: pioneer, the spymaster, deer, Martyr, the brawler, moose

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 01, and welcome to your reading. Currently, you are becoming someone with overflowing cups. You have much love and happiness to give and share with others. It feels like you are aligning with who you are and what brings you joy, which leads to fulfillment and a sense of belonging. I see harmony playing a huge role here. You are finding your balance and being at peace with yourself. This new version of you that you are growing into is collecting a lot of good karma. Things are moving and developing in your favor. You are in the midst of a transformative stage that leads to a lot of luck and positivity. You are going to become someone who welcomes change and strives to move with integrity. You are sharing your wealth, and you are swimming in your own passions and good fortune. It's so interesting to me because, essentially, this describes a creator, someone who is open to new experiences and open to trying and creating new things that others have not done before. It also reminds me of cycle breakers. This new version of you holds a lot of empathy and grace. You are learning and unlearning a lot right now, and I feel like you are going to be smart with the knowledge you attain. There is still a sense of distrust here, meaning that while, yes, you are growing into this person with an abundance of love to give and happiness to experience, you are not yet fully trusting that reality. Meaning that you are still in the beginning stages; it's new to you. You have figured out a lot of things, and positivity is already manifesting for you, but it feels like it has not been long enough and you have not collected enough positive evidence vs. the negative experiences. It feels fragile still. You are, however, being a lot more gentle with yourself. The person you are becoming right now wraps everything in love. Your first go-to move is to meet the situations you encounter with tenderness and compassion. You are healing right now with the power of love, and the person you are growing into can see the light and good in all things and situations. The reason is that you are finally seeing your self-worth, and you're acknowledging your grace. Beautiful. 

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

You are meant to be a seeker, someone who keeps searching for new ways and new opportunities. You are not meant to sit idle; instead, you are supposed to become a person who is continuously striving for new ways and solutions. A thinker and a pioneer. You are meant to dream and implement. To move past illusions, find multiple ways and solutions to problems and situations. You are meant to be a dreamer and an idealist. Someone wise and diplomatic. Holding a lot of compassion and being devoted to the good and beautiful things in life. You are meant to become a person who can balance the head and the heart. Being of service to yourself and others is your cause and purpose in life. You are meant to use your knowledge and creativity for that. You are meant to help and support those around you who are hurt by bandaging them up and guiding them towards empathy. Helping others confront themselves and their lack of compassion and grace for themselves and others. You are meant to let your head and mind reach to the stars, yet stay grounded on the earth. Listening to your inner knowing and your attained wisdom to guide others through their journey. You are meant to be a guide because you have learned a lot and know a lot. 

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

© rebeltarot 2023-2024 - all rights reserved ・ do not steal, copy, change, or redistribute my content.

PILE 02 ➕

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

D, I, C, T, S, Aquarius, Venus, 6th House

Song: Out of luck - Tkay Maidza, Lolo Zouaï, Amber Mark

CARDS

Tarot: 7 of wands, the emperor, 6 of wands, 6 of cups

Oracle: hawk, athlete, the heir, sea turtle, advocate, the poet

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 02, and welcome to your reading. You are becoming a person with a lot of stamina, capable of persevering through challenges and competition. You can protect yourself; you are willing to work on yourself and do the difficult things if it means that it helps you progress and grow. You are not backing away from a challenge; instead, you are running towards what scares you. I see you becoming someone who is disciplined and who creates stability and success. You can rely on yourself, and you take charge and control over your life by putting in the action needed to move forward. Truly impressive. You are also becoming more observant; you are taking in the information you can collect, and you are opening up your vision to any signs around you, guiding you, and relaying a message to you. It's like you have gotten rid of the blinders that kept you from seeing, and now you are going through life with 20/20 vision. You can determine your priorities and focus on them by eliminating any distractions. You are being honest with yourself and working with who you are instead of against you. You are aware of your 'weaknesses'. Honestly, the work you are putting in right now is truly valuable and opens up a bright future for yourself. You are allowing yourself to succeed. The person you are becoming is not afraid anymore of success, and you are stepping out of your way, ascending to new heights. Whatever limits you might have had before, you are transcending them. You are developing your willpower and strength of spirit, which makes you honestly unstoppable. You are now seeing your unseen potential, and you are wearing that crown without any hesitation.

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

You are meant to be someone who is in harmony, in alignment, and able to pivot when need be. The person you are meant to become is a winner; you are meant to experience success, win, and gain public recognition for your efforts and fame. You are meant to progress, grow, and move forward. The person you are growing into is confident in themselves; you are meant to walk with your shoulders straight and your head held high. You are destined to be someone! The fame aspect can be global or related to your industry or community, but either way, you are meant to be acknowledged. You are predestined to be an inspiration. I feel like this heavily relates to childhood dreams and innocent intentions. You are meant to be someone joyful, someone who looks back on your life with happiness. You are supposed to be someone who holds a lot of goodwill and can reach out their hand to others with positivity and appreciation. I see you being meant to be a protector. You are destined to master finding life's flow and to be in harmony with the rhythm of life to unfold your path. You are supposed to become a hard-working person who perseveres. Your mastery of yourself will protect you and lead to a lot of happiness and fulfillment. You are meant to inspire others to put compassion into action as well as be an advocate, someone who uses their public attention and recognition to channel it into growth. To advocate for important causes that allow humanity as a whole to move forward and transform. Through your connections and through your words, you are meant to lead with vulnerability and honesty. With the feather pen, a part of this pile is certainly meant to become writers or public speakers of some sort. Some might become poets or musicians, too. 

Your reblogs are highly appreciated. Thank you so much for supporting my work!

© rebeltarot 2023-2024 - all rights reserved ・ do not steal, copy, change, or redistribute my content.

PILE 03 ➕

Disclaimer: All Tarot readings on this blog are meant for entertainment purposes only. My Pick-a-card readings are based on my knowledge of the tarot and my intuition. Tarot is a divination tool and should not be considered a replacement for medical or professional guidance. It is not intended to be used as such, and any choices made in response to my readings are your own responsibility. All interpretations are speculative, and whether you believe in it is your choice. Readings are for self-reflection purposes only; take what resonates, and leave the rest. My readings are timeless unless stated otherwise.

CONFIRMATION

Signs and confirmation that this is your pile. This can be anything from your initials, astrological placements, significant messages or signs, places, songs, etc. Please use your discernment.

A, A, O, N, Aries, Mercury, 9th House

Song: is it new years yet? - Sabrina Carpenter

CARDS

Tarot: 9 of wands, 5 of wands, Knight of wands, 3 of cups

Oracle: dragonfly, mystic, the founder, owl, don Juan, the dancer

WHO ARE YOU BECOMING NOW?

Hello, Pile 03, and welcome to your reading. You are currently becoming resilient. Nothing can stop you as you courageously persist through whatever challenges you are met with. You are mastering setting boundaries, and you are guarding yourself and your peace. I do feel like you are becoming someone who does not shy away from conflict or opposition. Instead, you are welcoming diversity and opposing opinions to strengthen your muscles. What's interesting in your pile is how magic plays a big role both in who you are becoming now and who you are meant to become. The owl and the dragonfly are both associated with that keyword. You are openly embracing transformation and change. And you are courageously letting go of the past, allowing the magic of nature that is in you to highlight your brilliance and your blessings. I also see you embracing the divine more intimately in your life; take this however it resonates for you. For some, this talks about religion; for others, it talks about spirituality; and for another portion, it relates to practices such as tarot, etc. Either way, you are growing closer to the divine and embracing your inner wisdom. I see you also building something valuable and stable. You are founding something and birthing something brand new to you that has not existed before. I see you laying sustainable and stable foundations and building yourself a community that will last. You are heavily investing in your "village.". 

WHO ARE YOU MEANT TO BECOME?

Who you are meant to become is someone inspiring and energetic. Your future self is supposed to take inspired action and follow your intuition. You are meant to be impulsive and adventurous, spontaneous, and take on any challenge that presents itself to you and that you find interesting enough to face and engage in. I see you being meant to play an integral part in a community of people that you have built, creating new things together, brainstorming, and birthing something essential in union with other people. It could very well be a community of something. Either way, it's magical and relates to your inner vision and wisdom. You are meant to choose to see the truth and see through deception. You are destined to let the past go and make room for a better life, so you can experience the good life. The person you are meant to become is supposed to rise because magic and wisdom are your birthright. I also feel like you are meant to lean into your seductive qualities. You are charming and persuasive; own that. You are destined to be free and to dance to your beat. Self-expression and inner strength are really big factors in who you are meant to become. To show up authentically in a one-size-fits-all world takes a lot of courage and strength, and you are destined to do exactly that. Show your true self and follow your intuition; it will never lead you astray. 

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[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 41, part three

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Brotherhood of Man

Somehow, after the multi-layered shit sandwich of betrayal that happened in Nightless City, Lan Xichen manages to convince his two besties to swear brotherhood with him and each other. Lan Xichen's Polyamory 101 class apparently didn't tell him that forcing a vee to become a three-for-all is a bad idea. Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao are bonded by only two things: 1. loving Lan Xichen 2. hating each other.

Nie Mingjue is great at letting bygones be bygones, as we can tell as he glares all the way through Jin Guangyao's skull.

Next we jump to Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao playing the song of clarity for Nie Mingjue, with Lan Xichen in a particularly sexy set of ultra-fancy robes.

NMJ keeps his eyes shut so he won't have to see the extreme eye fucking that's going on right in front of his salad.

Check out his cool candle holders, by the way.

I can't help but think...is this how Lan Xichen is spending his time while Lan Wangji is in forced seclusion? Lan Xichen didn't attack any elders, so there's no reason he shouldn't be enjoying himself, but he's gone all in on the fuckboy life while his brother is seriously struggling. The Lan brothers seem a lot less close after Wei Wuxian's death interlude and I wonder if this is part of the reason.

(More behind the cut!)

We take a tiny break from empathy during this section so that Lan Wangji can check Wei Wuxian's qi.

He does, and goes to play healing for him. He does not react like WWX is lacking a core, despite doing the magic wrist check that would tip him off if that were the case, so I add this to the pile of evidence that WWX 2.0 does have a (shitty) core in his new body.

I like this little scene because Lan Wangji is clearly worried, emotional, upset - he's doing his little sour-lemon frown and he's intensely focused on Wei Wuxian while he plays healing - but he's not trying to wake him, and he doesn't say anything about his own concerns once Wei Wuxian is awake.

Grown-up Lan Wangji is still not a fan of these unorthodox cultivation activities, but he respects WWX's choices and focuses on supporting him, not stopping him.

Play Misty For Me

Next, empathy shows us Jin Guangyao playing for Nie Mingjue in a 1-on-1 session in JinLintai. I guess this is like dialysis, where Nie Mingjue has to waste a shit ton of time going back and forth between home and JinLinTai to get cleansed.

It seems like Lan Xichen could have picked a better person to train in playing the song of clarity. I know Nie Huaisang's wussy core might make him a poor candidate, but surely there's someone in Qinghe who could do the job? Or send a series of Lan disciples in an exchange student arrangement? But Lan Xichen would rather force these guys to hang out together.

Lan Xichen may seem like he's being wilfully blind, or plain stupid, but I don't think that's what he's about. He's aware that both of these guys are, from a certain point of view, bad people. Nie Mingjue is driven by rage and a rigid sense of justice and social hierarchy; Jin Guangyao is consumed with self-interest and will use any means to achieve his ends.

Good guys Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will also use any means to achieve their ends - attacking elders, raising the dead, and whatnot. What all four of these not-Lan Xichen people have in common is that they go to extremes, too high or too low, there ain't no in-betweens.

Out of the darkness, into the light Leaving the scene of the crime Either I'm wrong or I'm perfectly right Every time

Sorry, but Billy Joel is part of my cultural heritage as a Gen X person.

Lan Xichen embodies a combination of Confucian and Buddhist values, I think; he wants the people he cares about to chill the fuck out and find the middle way, and also to be truly brotherly toward each other. He tries to achieve this through gentle nagging and also by modeling the behavior he wants to see, creating opportunities for peace and balance. Unfortunately at the time Empathy is showing us, he's unware how extreme and unbalanced his own feelings for Jin Guangyao really are.

At some point, Jin Guangyao starts playing the altered version of the music, and we have a series of kind of weird cuts where 1. the Song of Fuck You is playing on the soundtrack while Lan Xichen is teaching Jin Guangyao 2. NMJ starts to hork up some blood in the 1-on-1 session but finishes horking in the trio session. I think this is meant to show that it was a progression.

Meet Me Outside

Empathy jumps ahead to Lan Xichen trying to warn Jin Guangyao about Nie Mingjue's declining temperament, saying that if it wasn't for JGY playing for him every day, it would be super bad, or words to that effect. He is interrupted by Nie Mingjue showing up to yell at Jin Guangyao. Was Nie Mingjue eavesdropping so that his head could recall this later in Empathy?

I'm inclined to see the dynamic among the three of them at this point through a lens of domestic violence. Lan Xichen stands by helplessly while Nie Mingjue makes it clear that he's in a rage and wants to take it out on Jin Guangyao; JGY calmly tells Lan Xichen to stay behind while he goes outside to take a beating. That's not just optics; Nie Mingjue attacks him the moment they're alone. The fact that NMJ is drunk on resentment is only partly the fault of Jin Guangyao's musical poison; a lot of it is his own choice to do saber cultivation.

Lan Xichen may remember similar interactions with his parents. He's certainly having a trauma reaction instead of stepping into this situation from a place of strength. He's protected Jin Guangyao from NMJ before without any difficulty, but the changes in NMJ's temperament and possibly the loss of Lan Wangji's companionship have put him in a weaker state of mind, it seems. And he himself may have been the target of Nie Mingjue's anger at times, too.

The Ragening

After dodging the first swing from Nie Mingjue, Jin Guangyao asks him why he's mad. The gist of NMJ's beef is this: Xue Yang escaped from the unclean realm. NMJ (correctly) blames JGY. Now Xue Yang is imprisoned by Jin Guangshan after a trial or something, in which Chang Ping retracted his earlier accusation. So they can't execute Xue Yang because there's no evidence against him. (Why can they imprison him for life with no evidence, then? Seems sketchy).

Nie Mingjue says that Xue Yang has a piece of Yin metal, and that's why Jin Guangshan is keeping him alive. JGY doesn't affirm or deny this, but he has to obey his dad, so he can't kill Xue Yang just to please Nie Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue tells him to stop doing that thing he does.

You Doing that thing you do Breakin' my heart into a million pieces Like you always do And you Don't mean to be cruel You never even knew about the heartache I've been going through

Jin Guangyao has to intuit what Nie Mingjue is talking about, which is apparently that JGY is being calculating and manipulative.

He proceeds to rip NMJ a new one for believing that everyone can be as rigteous as him when he has his noble birth and high cultivation to depend on. JGY points out that he himself doesn't have early cultivation training or a good family background to draw on. He also gives us a little bit of specific info about his position in the clan, saying that Jin Zixuan's death didn't give him a clear path; Jin Guangshan would rather bring back another bastard son than allow Jin Guangyao to succeed him.

Presumably he's talking about Mo Xuanyu. Before you feel sorry for JGY, remember that he caused Jin Zixuan's death specifically so he could claim his place in the line of succession.

Nie Mingjue says, dismissively, that he's only refusing to kill Xue Yang because he doesn't want to risk his position in the clan. Nie Mingjue says this like it's a bad thing: like Jin Guangyao, who he fired quite a while ago and totally doesn't work for him, should go against his father's express orders and kill a guy, without evidence, because Nie Mingjue thinks that would be more righteous. I gotta say, Nie Mingjue is a real piece of work.

Nie Mingjue acknowledges that he himself has killed a fuckton of people, but never for his own advancement. Jin Guangyao challenges him with words that have a little flavor of Wei Wuxian's way of thinking: did everyone you've killed deserve it? Are your standards fair?

Then he heads firmly back into villain territory by saying "sacrifices must be made for greatness" which has Nie Mingjue asking why he doesn't sacrifice himself, instead of killing other people? (Shades of WWX challenging Wen Zhuliu) Jin Guangyao replies with an emphatic nope, which inspires Nie Mingjue to kick him down the stairs and attribute his poor character to his mom's line of work, for not the first time. If I was in charge of Jinlintai, I would put a safety gate up there.

The bottom of these stairs is kind of an important place for Jin Guangyao; he's been kicked down them twice (that we know of) and each time he stood up 100% ready to kill the guy at the top of the stairs. Although he took a super long time to actually do it in the case of his dad, I'm pretty sure JGS's fate was sealed in that moment....just like Nie Mingjue's is sealed here.

Side note: In the show, JGY starts musically poisoning NMJ while they are still ostensibly getting along fine, whereas in the book he waits until NMJ has kicked him down the stairs and insulted his mom. CQL Jin Guangyao is just more forward-thinking, I guess.

After fixing his hat, Jin Guangyao walks up the stairs calmly explaining to Nie Mingjue how he fucked with the song of cleansing. This causes Nie Mingjue to qi deviate while the Department of Questionable Visual Effects messes around with extra copies of Jin Guangyao in AfterFX.

Not to be outdone, the Department of Questionable Practical Effects has loaded up the front of Nie Mingjue's torso with exploding blood squibs, because apparently that is how they interpret "all his meridians were broken." (We won't talk about the various non-cultivation-aware translations that say "all his veins were broken.")

Nie Huaisang shows up - running up all of the steps at Jinlintai. From where? Did he run from Qinghe? How did he know Nie Mingjue was in trouble? If Lan Xichen told him, why isn't he here too? Presumably he is still busy checking the guest list for the next conference, per JGY's request.

Jin Guangyao grabs Nie Huaisang and holds him out of harms way while vigorously pretending to be upset while Nie Mingjue points his saber at them. Nie Huaisang interprets this as NMJ not recognizing him (and if you've seen Fatal Journey, you know this is a fair interpretation) but it might be that he's pointing it at JGY to encourage him to let NHS go.

This Is The End

Next we see NMJ all tied up on a table in Jinlintai, with corpse poisoning marks on his neck. Someday I will learn exactly when these happen, what they mean, and how everyone who has them gets them, but today is not that day. (Remember when Wen Qing got them while WWX was playing angry flute at the rocks behind Qinghe, and then they went away when he stopped playing? And how this was never explained?) Xue Yang is walking around him with Baxia and half of the yin tiger seal. He can't control him without the whole seal so JGY says to kill him.

In case all of Xue Yang's behavior seems super random, it's actually not; his project is turning high-level cultivators into controllable fierce corpses. Where Wei Wuxian controlled his fierce corpse Wen Ning with kindness and turnips, Xue Yang uses fancy brain nails. With Nie Mingjue, he presumably hadn't developed the technique yet, which is why they can't subdue him to use him. And he failed to get the nails into Xiao Xingchen or Wei Wuxian's heads. So basically the entire project was a bust, given that he didn't deploy Wen Ning for anything, and Song Lan just followed him around an empty town. This is what happens when you get too attached to a particular creative vision.

Camera Operator: hey now!

Xue Yang uses Baxia to chop Nie Mingjue's head off, which has to piss Baxia off. Xue Yang says Nie Mingjue is finally obedient, which is only sort of true, since he'll be coming back for revenge in sword-spirit form in the live action, or in naked dismembered corpse form in every other version of the story.

Friendly Neighborhood Paperman

This murder causes Wei Wuxian to snap out of empathy back into his paperman body, and accidentally pull NMJ's head's eye covers off, revealing eyes that don't look a goddamn thing like actor Wang Yizhou's eyes, but this head has had a rough few years.

Jin Guangyao is right there in the storeroom with him; it's a good thing he didn't think to have one of his chats with NMJ's head during the 30 minutes WWX spent communing with it. He chases Paperman around slashing his sword through the furniture and knocking shit over.

Among JGY's many evil traits, perhaps the worst is the way he wastes storage space. Look at all these shelves with 2 or 3 books on them.

Paperman makes his way over to Suibian where it's displayed on a shelf, and hops onto its hilt while JGY watches. He smirks at WWX's failure to draw the sword, but eventually Paper WWX does draw it, surprising JGY. Suibian fights him remotely for a bit while WWX gets away and makes his way back to Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji trade arm clasps while Wei Wuxian gives him a sitrep, and then they run off to find Nie Mingjue's head.

Because there is no limit to Wei Wuxian's sex appeal, Lan Wangji instantly beats up everyone who gets in his sweetie's way. Lan Xichen shows up, a little alarmed at the attacks on the guards but still on board with their plan.

Lan Xichen deploys his most dramatic stair-climbing flourish to show that he means business.

Eventually Jin Guangyao shows up, and they ask to see his secret chamber. Jin Guangyao tries to explain that it's not, like, a secret chamber any more if you let people come in and look at it.

Apparently there IS a limit to Jin Guangyao's sex appeal, because Lan Xichen puts his foot down for the very first time and tells him, not asks him, to open the room.

...while Wei Wuxian smirks like a kid whose sibling is the one getting yelled at for a change.

Before Jin Guangyao can answer, Su She shows up, saying it's not cool to demand entry to a clan leader's bed chamber, as if Lan Xichen didn't have his own embroidered bathrobe alredy hanging on a hook in there.

Lan Wangji and Su She greet each other nastily, and Wei Wuxian calls him out for copying Lan Wangji, which ends the episode.

Soundtrack: I Go To Extremes by Billy Joel, That Thing You Do from the movie That Thing You Do

Bonus: Liu Haikuan's beautiful hand

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 20

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), smut!, Soldier Boy having ejaculation problem, language, disagreements

Word Count: 6343

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You kept Ben and others in the dark about the fact that you weren't healing like a supe as the days went by in peace and quiet. You weren't sure why precisely, but you decided that it would be best to wait to discuss the situation in detail with the doctor or learn what had happened from Mindstorm.

Except for the moments you were with Ben, you'd always wished you weren't a supe and could simply live like a regular person in the past. When you two were together, you were cool with being a Supe. You handled his strength whenever he touched you, battled by his side when he needed you, and didn't really care what you were as long as you didn't age like him.

But inevitably things were different. You have to remain a supe in order to defend yourself from everything and everyone. You were aware of it. That's what you wanted. If you weren't a super, you really didn't know how to live a normal life. You couldn't even recall the last time you experienced physical weakness. Neither were you accustomed to seeing bruises on your skin. You sighed with annoyance as your thoughts raced at the possibility of you stopping becoming a Supe at any moment. What happens if your body suddenly loses all of its strength? Even though you still had your powers, you still needed to exercise caution.

In fact, you weren't sure whether that was simply an excuse about that you needed to be a supe. Perhaps all you wanted was to stay alive. You had no idea what your own heart was actually craving. You didn't want to find out, though. 

Butcher had informed Ben and you earlier in the morning that he had located the doctor in charge of Supe Studies for Vought. Ben had given you a strange look, as if he had sensed something, since your heart was beating so quickly. You needed to be prepared for whatever was ahead. It was something you had to embrace. 

“Tonight, we're going to the doctor. It is not very helpful that he is residing at Vought Tower. Although he is well protected, we can still cope with it while we have the strongest supes, right?” With a cunning grin, Butcher said, emphasizing the phrase ‘most powerful’ as though he intended to hurt you. 

You remained silent. You could still tear him in two without even trying your hardest. Of course you wouldn't. Butcher and how to beat him till he bled were among the numerous improper thoughts that sprung from your wounded pride. Ben would undoubtedly die from intense pleasure if he could see your thoughts. 

“Homelander will be there,” you said, tracing your fingers over the table and the page you were doodling on in front of you. Ben was deep in thought as he sat next to you, examining the bizarre things you were sketching randomly. 

“Yeah,” Butcher said unsurely. “Unless his attention is drawn on something different.”

Cutting off Butcher's ambiguous remarks, “What do you mean?” Ben asked. It was evident that he was impatient. 

You knew Butcher was ready to come up with something risky since he was staring at both of you and Ben. His expressions were now easily interpreted. 

“If you use your nuclear chest and explode somewhere, he will come to you. Since everyone will be concentrating on you, Annie and Y/N will be able to sneak into the cave, speak with the doctor, and also obtain more Temp-V.”

“You seem that you thought about this too much,” Ben interrupted; his tone remained cautious, and he showed little interest in Butcher's bold proposal. It was sufficient, in your opinion, nevertheless. 

Ben and you both gave Butcher a startled look. You were now curious about his real intentions. Ben's tensing up was palpable as soon as he learned about the member of the team who had betrayed him. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from Ben's chest. You watched him abruptly get up and go toward Butcher in a way that was almost menacing, but you did nothing to soothe him. 

With perplexity, you glanced at Ben. It was risky for the two of you, but you had agreed to take the chance and trust that Butcher would be able to divert Homelander's focus. You had to know the truth. You got frustrated with Ben's attitude now, remembering how he promised you weeks earlier. You could always count on him to let you down. What's happened is that it stopped being surprising.

“How about if I say that I found Mindstorm?”

Ben questioned, “When?” 

“Why do you care? But he's concealing rather well, I have to admit. He must be scared as fuck since you appeared,” Butcher said, but Ben did not care about this fact. All people who betrayed him better be scared. 

Ben said, “Fine,” in a controlled tone that surprised you and Butcher alike. You weren't prepared for him to give up so quickly. “Y/N is not going to Vought Tower, which means I'm not going to blow up anywhere." She will accompany me to Mindstorm. We don't need the doctor.”

“What?” you said, puzzled. He would never gladly embrace Butcher's idea, of course. Watching Ben was determined to go after his own plan, not giving a damn about your thoughts nor contemplating, you shot him a furious glare. “You are not in a position to determine this. It's all about me.”

“I know,” Ben strongly stated. He turned to face you and froze for a second when he noticed how you were staring at him. “But it's too risky for you. This is not what we're doing. Discussion is over.”

You firmly responded, “No,” and furiously dropped the pencil on the table. “We are exactly doing this.”

Butcher sighed with irritation as he observed that you and Ben were prepared for another argument, and he considered his next move. “How about me and Y/N go after Mindstorm and Soldier Boy meeting the doctor himself?” he finally suggested. 

Neither Ben nor you said anything, but Butcher's suggestion didn't seem right. Ben was clearly considering his options attentively while you watched him. You couldn't tell what his real intentions were or whether he truly intended to keep his word. You were discouraged.

Ben firmly stated, “She's not going to Vought Tower without me.” He was determined not to do anything Butcher asked of him and willing to listen to you neither.

“If you think you can kill Homelander and the others there in a very short moment, why not?” Butcher provoked him.

You stated serenely, hoping Ben would understand. “If something goes wrong, I'll be blamed by the public and Vought once more.” You thought he would understand that you were not interested in joining him in his war. All you needed were answers. “You're not going to come with me, and you'll bring Mindstorm. You said you would help me, Ben.”

Ben stared at you for a long time, confused by your cool, composed statements. You knew it was difficult for him to accept the obvious, yet you wanted him to think carefully and not ruin this. 

When he turned back to face you, you were startled watching him think about every possibility. After all, he didn't enjoy following instructions since, in his mind, he was a strong, alpha leader. He was clearly making an effort to maintain his composure in the face of your provocative tone, and you have to agree, it was entertaining to see him struggle.

Ben didn't want to give in and accept Butcher's foolish and dangerous idea, but he was becoming powerless as he saw you almost beg him with your eyes to keep his word. Ben had no idea as to why you would be willing to pay a visit to Vought Tower without taking into account the events that had occurred decades prior. It seems like yesterday when you were deceived and put in a box. Given your physical conditions lately, he might sense your anxiety even at that distance. He would never let someone hurt you ever again. No fucking way. 

Ben added, “And you know I'll keep my promise,” not wanting to say anything more or let you go there by yourself. “But not in that way.”

You sat in your chair and waited for Ben as he approached you. It took you a whole minute to blink before he walked your side. Ben's desire to touch you was overwhelming him, driving him insane and causing him to think filthy stuff, but all he managed to do was touch your chin to get your attention. “Together, we will go to Vought Tower. We can catch Mindstorm another day.”

“I think he's always on the move.” Ben's hands slipped to your chair and caressed your hair from the back when Butcher interrupted. You found it amusing that he had been playing with your hair when his voice abruptly became harsh. Ben had a strange way of being both gentle and tough at the same time.

“How do I know that you're not trying to separate us or trick her?” Ben exclaimed. His explanation of the situation was significantly different from yours. You wouldn't deny that you were grateful that he was careful for you this time and didn't trust Butcher or anyone else.

Ben continued, “I would kill you,” even before Butcher spoke a word. You could tell he despised everything because of the way he spat out the words. You knew that he would murder Butcher. 

Your heart flooded with relief, and you forced yourself to keep yourself from soothing him—his body temperature was changing minute by minute—in an attempt to provide him some peace. It was another problem that needed to be resolved quickly. You made a self-promise to support Ben in this matter as well, not knowing if he would suddenly explode again. Of course, it was after you discovered the truth about yourself. 

“Look, I'm offering you an opportunity to talk to Mindstorm and her to see the doctor, but you are accusing me of something I never ever considered once. Aren't you an ungrateful baby boy?” Butcher remarked, making Ben even more tense.

“Yet,” Ben went on. “I won't allow her to go to the Tower. Fuck Mindstorm. If he attempts to flee again, you'll locate him.”

You firmly said, “Stop it, Ben,” as you stood up and moved away from his gaze. He didn't say anything about that. He needed to keep the promise that he had made. This was something he owed you. You took a long look around the room and considered all of the options and risks. “I'll go to Vought Tower with Annie and Kimiko, and you'll blow somewhere up and then bring Mindstorm.”

“Don't give me orders, sweetie,” he eventually muttered. His look had somewhat changed, and he made an effort to seem as gentle as possible, but it was obvious he was struggling to hold his shit together. Good. “We'll do it in my way.” 

You sighed, “Your ways hurt me enough,” interrupting him before he could say anything more. You had to find a way to stop him arguing, not because you wanted to bring up past events while you were discussing the plan. 

Ben stiffened at what you said, unsure of how to protest anymore, even though he knew that was what you wanted and that it would be difficult to change your mind given how anxious you were about learning the truth about your condition. Even though Ben didn't want to do it at all, he did his best to remain composed and gave you a nod before you left without saying anything more and went upstairs, leaving him alone there with Butcher. 

Butcher was filled with joy as he watched Ben battle to avoid exploding the whole house. His jaw clenched while his heart filled with regret and watched you leave the room without even looking back. You possessed a unique kind of power over him, which he didn't even complain about anymore.

“She knows how to shut your mouth, huh?” Butcher made a quick remark to irritate Ben even more. It would be preferable to toy with Soldier Boy's fury going forward if the idea wouldn't make him blow up anytime and get him killed. 

“Your blowjob-addicted mouth is going to be your undone one day,” Ben said. He waited and pondered you and everything for a while after taking a sip from the half-filled bottle of wine. If something went wrong, he would murder anyone. He wouldn't blink.

“Okay,” Butcher said, not wanting to die today at the very least. “I'm going to pick Kimiko and Frenchie up. You two be prepared in thirty minutes.” 

You were almost finished putting on your supe suit when Ben pushed open the door and entered. When you sensed Ben's pulse pounding with passion and excitement, you couldn't help but feel the same way.

Ben pushed the door open and entered just as you were about to finish donning your super suit. His lips parted with astonishment as his lips curled with a smile. You were tempted to do the same as you sensed Ben's pulse pounding with passion and excitement. It had been so long since you put on your suit that you could not even recall when you did so. With all the iron on your breast and the small iron details on your skirt, you looked like a warrior, and so you'd never really liked it.

Even though you didn't feel like a danger on the inside, you chose to wear your suit to show that you were one, even though it would have been ideal if you had simply worn your regular everyday clothing.

Ben's amazed gaze made you take a long breath, and you glanced at him for a moment before realizing it had been a while since he had put on his own suit as well. You were too preoccupied with living your life like any other human being, devoid of conflicts or battles for reasons.

Ben said, “I didn't think you'd put on your suit ever again,” before shutting the door. You were relieved that this time he had not given you a speech about your opened door.

You answered, honestly, “Me neither.”

“Why?” Ben queried. “I thought you didn't want to be seen as a threat. You don't want to deal with Vought ever again, right?”

Glancing down at your naked legs and the cleavage-revealing breasts, he thought you looked like a goddess. He's always thought highly of you, but right now he was also becoming aroused at every step you took and every breath you took, wanting to touch you and pull you onto the bed behind you. His hardened cock was already straining and pleading to be freed from his pants, but all he could manage was to come nearer to you. His heart beat with passion, recalling how you let him cum within you days before. It wasn't a proper sex, but it felt better than any other sex.

You answered, “Yeah,” and Ben moved forward to stand in front of you. You didn't notice Ben avoiding contact with you for so long when you were in your suit and alone in a room with him; therefore, your body was betraying you with expectations and intense need.

“But I want them to know that they will pay for what they have done to me,” you softly said. “I want them to know that I am a threat to them if so.” Your own voice had taken you by surprise. When you did speak, it was quite quietly, but you were very serious. This was something Ben knew.

You just wanted to live in peace and quiet moving forward; no plans to exact revenge or anything like that. But there was no way you could be alright with it if they'd done you anything unforgivable.

Ben's lips curled up proudly and gladly at your reply. He was almost enjoying this small war because he was prepared to murder anyone who betrayed him, placed him in a fucking box, and indicated to destroy him. He was prepared to tear down Vought in every way. But the thing that most thrilled him was that you were prepared to do this with him as well, just like in the old days, as if you were still in a relationship. To Ben, it never altered.

Ben realized, as he glanced at your suit, how fond he was of the way you looked. Whatever was going on with you didn't matter now; you looked just as strong as him.

“And they will pay for it, I promise.” Ben said, “But I still don't want you to go there alone,” he added before you could say anything more. You were conscious of the risks. “If you are exposed to that damned gas again...” Ben went on and then inhaled deeply. Your body stiffened at the mention of the gas; you would never forget or be able to forgive all the torment you had to endure.

You said, “Would you save me again?” That was a surprising thing to ask, but you had to know. “If something goes wrong.”

Ben said straight away, “Of course I would,” in an authoritative and clear manner. “I'd blow up the entire fucking tower up on their dead bodies in a second.”

You eagerly questioned, “Do you swear?” not knowing if you would believe him or not, but wanted to hear it from him none the less.

“I fucking swear,” said Ben. His fingers were now hovering near your thigh. It was difficult for you to ignore his pooking hardness, but you tried, at least though your pussy had other ideas. You couldn't even identify the precise moment when the two of you grew close.

It was difficult to keep your hands apart as you let him touch your back and run his gloved fingers over your outfit. Because of the extreme stress, your body began craving things that it hadn't desired months before. There was simply too much tension that needed to be eased.

“Do you regret it?” Ben asked abruptly, leaving you perplexed.

“From wha-”you murmured, but you knew what he meant by the way he stared at you. “I never do anything that I might later regret, Ben. I mean, generally.”

Following the events in the automobile a few days prior, you had never spoken. In actuality, you were relieved that Ben never brought up the subject of your sexual interaction with him. He seemed to be understanding or patient, you could tell. In your own ways, you were both experiencing internal conflicts. You still didn't understand why, one night, he came in much too much and didn't become erect when you touched him. Your life is full of many issues that needed to be resolved at first.

He said, “Understandable,” in a calm voice. “All I have to tell you is that I will always be wanting you. You never think otherwise.”

You were briefly left speechless by it. He didn't wait for a response, and you had nothing to say.

Ben's lips drew closer to yours, his hands tighter around your abdomen as he gauged your response. Your hands grabbed his neck and drew him closer as his lips captured yours with lust and need. Your heart was racing as his gloved hands pressed your body onto his firm cock. With your tongues meeting as though you had been waiting for this moment for a very long time, you parted your lips to let him in.

Like his body, yours required release and some level of relaxation. It was just too stressful. For you both.

You moved yourself closer to Ben as he continued his desperate kisses, pushing him to go all the way and take control. As soon as he got the message, he quickly had you lie on the bed behind you while lifting your body up and continuing the kiss. Your legs were completely visible to him since the skirt of your suit was already too short.

After giving you a few gentle bites, Ben eventually pulled back to savor the moment. His hands gripped your ass cheeks and gave them a firm squeeze, causing you to moan with bliss.

He used to treat you really harshly because he knew you wouldn't break or whatever, but today, even though he wasn't holding back on his strength, he seemed strangely gentler. You got used to his aggressive and rough demeanor, so you were irritated to see him acting a little more cautiously now and wondered if it was only because you were not as strong as you had been.

You tried to express your wish for him to be rougher with you by tightening your legs around his hips and giving him more forceful kisses in return, even if you didn't say so.

Ben was growling and pressing his hardness between your legs; his hands were gripping your underwear beneath your skirt, lowering it already, which was proof of his impatience.

When your clothing prevented him from reaching your tits, he tried to give them a firm squeeze without breaking the iron chest plate on them, and he made a dissatisfied moan. It was evident that he was struggling not to rip it off. He knew you enjoyed a lot when he played with your tits, but you didn't have much time to take it off.

You took a deep breath as Ben kissed every inch of your body where his lips could reach. You wanted to do it and get rid of all the worry and negative ideas in your body, even if you weren't entirely sure if it was the right thing to do at that particular time. For a little period, you wished to clear your mind. Ben must have had the same thought.

He indicated to you that he intended to suck you there before entering you by lowering your panties and then moving down lower on your body. But you stopped him.

You exclaimed, “No time for this,” and grabbed onto him with quivering hands in order to stop him.

He grumbled, “We have eno-“ and then attempted to convince you. Once more, you stopped him.

You snapped, “No,” and put your fingers on his trousers, beginning to unzip him.

“Impatient?” Ben murmured as he saw that you were eager about freeing his hard cock while you worked nervously on his pants.

His lips once again captured yours, preventing you from speaking, and he helped you. Ben made another move to remove his chest plate so he could be more comfortable and intimate with you as he lowered his pants just enough to free his cock. But you stopped him once more. After all, that wasn't necessary.

It wasn't that throughout previous sexual interactions, you were always naked. On the contrary, Ben rarely ever takes off his suit when he takes you since you always want to avoid getting caught. He was usually tough and quick in these situations.

You gasped when he took off his erection and felt its weight on your clit. Knowing what was coming up next had both of your hearts pounding like crazy.

With little time, you had to move quickly. You lifted your hips to indicate to Ben that you were ready, but he only gave you a short glance before giving you a gentler kiss that you weren't particularly fond of at the moment.

He began stroking his cock, stopped kissing you, and tried to swallow his own groans. Touching the star sign on his suit with your shaky hands, you placed them on his back while you waited under him. Ben checked your facial expressions very carefully to make sure you were completely okay with this, and he saw no hesitancy, which gave him a sense of ease. You simply waited under him, eager and needy.

“Ready?” he muttered. He parted your legs a little wider and pressed your body against the bed a little further. He did not take off your panties, even if they were a little of an obstacle. He was quite okay with taking you like this while you were still wearing it.

You merely nodded to him and said, “Yes.” It seemed like you were already leaking there. Already, you were clutching your walls like a cat in heat.

Ben stroked himself once more and muttered, “Look at me,” pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. That's when you realized that you were holding your breath.

It felt as though you two were going to experience your first-ever sex, like you were two virgins. Wondering whether Ben thought the same thing.

With eagerness, your lips parted as you obeyed. Your hands traveled to his large arms and biceps, wanting to feel a little flesh too. You were shamefully wetter knowing that you could still bear his strength at the highest level, and the sensation of his strength beneath you was making you feel even more excited.

You nailed his arms through the cloth and couldn't contain your groan as he shoved the tip of his cock within you. Ben's tightened jaw showed that he was trying to contain himself from making a loud sound.

Ben could not help but breathe heavily this time as he continued to press in your tight hole, feeling as though you were dripping there.Your shaking legs weren't helping either.

Ben groaned and said, “Relax a little, baby,” but you were unable to stop clenching around his big cock and lost control over your pussy. You could feel his lips on yours.

You groaned, trying not to clench around him. “I'm trying.”

Ben could not wait any longer and, unable to contain himself, shoved his cock inside of you with one single push that you both moaned in your mouths. His mouth found your neck and began to give it bites there.

This time, stunned by your tightness, he couldn't help but groan when he pushed his all. Ben wasn't sure if he could control himself because of how tightly you clutched him. After all, he hadn't properly fucked you in the past fucking forty years.

Sighing into your neck, “Fuck, I missed your tightness; I missed this so fucking much,” he waited inside of you to feel every part of you and enjoy the moment. But you were moaning underneath him to continue. You needed that release so much it was killing you.

“Don't stop,” you said, impatient for him to get moving. Your heart was on the verge of bursting.

Ben's hands tightened around your hips, his head buried in your neck. Just the way you wanted, he drew his cock back and gave it a really hard shove inside again. He groaned, and you moaned loudly at that action. You were so desperate to feel some flesh that you lowered the cloth around his neck and gave him the same hard bites and licks that caused you to tremble in ecstasy as your hands stroked his arms and shoulders through the fabric.

Ben waited, feeling your wonderful, soaked tightness around him. It was difficult to resist shoving his cock quickly and roughly inside of you. He wanted to relish this moment, look into your face, and observe every expression you made to remind himself how much he missed you in every way—after all, it had been decades. But he'd do everything you asked, and you were being desperate. Nor did you have any fucking time.

Ben repeatedly thrust his cock in you with strong motions as you pushed him to act quicker. His hands squeezed hard on your hips, listening to your little groans and watching as you bit your lips in joy. He started to fuck you harder and quicker.

It was not an excellent sign when he felt himself coming closer because of the incredible and tight way you clasped around him.

“Ben!” you cried out, sensing that you were almost there. Your hands were trembling with pleasure and excitement as they rested on his shoulders. All you needed was a little bit more. All you needed was for him to give you a few more hard strokes while fucking you.

Ben forced himself not to come first until he made sure you came first as he fucked you hard and deep, causing the bed to shake beneath you. He could feel you tighten around him. It was fortunate that he could hear you become more loud since no one else was in the home.

Yet it wasn't helping at all. The little sounds you were making, the way you held him close, and the way your cheeks flushed with pleasure... He was getting too close.

Ben was doing his hardest not to cry out, but he was unable to control himself when you begged him, “Ben, please,” like a whimper, and your fingers tugged his hair a little too hard.

Your eyes opened wide in shock as he gave you one last stroke, and he thrust all of his length into your pussy, filling you up with his thick white ropes between swearing and a loud growl. You waited for him to empty his balls in your pussy as your hands loosened over his biceps.

He was filling you before he had even completed ten strokes. The way his body was shaking on top of you as he spilled himself in you made your eyes wide in shock.

Ben was breathing heavily on your skin and grumbling softly on your neck. Your hands found his back and caressed the star emblem on his suit, and all you could do was wait for him to finish.

To your amazement, he moaned, “Fuck, sorry,” into your neck as he kept filling you up. His voice was shaking. You were perplexed by his response since it sounded regretful. The closer he got, the more tightly he gripped your hips as though you may break free at any second.

He had previously refused to allow you to finish. You didn't know why it was important right now.

You simply said, “It's okay,” not sure how you should respond. It felt awkward when you realized it was over already. You waited for Ben to finish since it was unclear what to do at this point and the air was thick.

Ben didn't feel any better coming inside you so quickly; he had just fucking entered you. Wearing the suit he's always admired, you were there, underneath him, ready for him to take what he'd needed and wanted and yearned for weeks, but he felt awful, and his pride had been broken again. Fuck, he thought to himself. He didn't know what was going on with him these days. His cock must have missed you way too much; he could even know it seemed.

For the first time in his life, he looked for anything to say—anything to at least soften the situation and cover up his wounded pride—but he had no idea how. Not being able to get hard was not as bad as it was. He may have failed because he didn't jerk off earlier. He didn't know a single fucking thing right now.

He only needed to make you come around his cock, but he had failed once more. In spite of your pleas, all he did was leave you feeling unsatisfied. He was unable to contain himself for even five minutes. Ben's constant confidence began to fade from him.

Ben was still breathing heavily on your neck, and he tried to speak, but nothing came out. He never liked to feel powerless, but as you were waiting for him to draw his softening cock back, he did feel powerless. Although he felt physically satisfied, this didn't make him feel any better; instead, it made him feel even more annoyed, stressed, and unsatisfied.

You finally had the guts to make the first move, and your hands left his back. You put one hand to your underwear and attempted to lift it, giving him a message to pull back so that you could break the tension and be ready to go. As you waited for Ben to realize what was going on and withdraw his cock from your pussy, your face started to flush.

Ben took a big breath and cautiously and gently removed his cock from you when he got the cue. You wanted that release badly, but there was nothing you could do. Your walls tightened with expectation once more. Perhaps at a later day.

Ben was staring at your chest as you adjusted your underwear, and he tucked himself back into his pants, trying to get your attention away from his intense stare. Ben was looking between your legs, where his thick come was dripping, before you pulled your panties back. He should have put his hot cum back in your pussy. His erection was screaming for him to be put back in you, so he could fuck you some more, but there was absolutely no time.

Ben said in a rough voice, nervous, “I couldn't hold it back,” and he zipped himself back, waiting on top of you and refusing to let go. Seeing your dissatisfied, confused, and reddened face was an unbearable source of pain. “I didn't do it...on purpose.”

You whispered, “It's okay,” in a trembling voice. Ben was still between your legs, and you wanted to straighten your skirt too. It was time to make the air softer. “It's not the first time.”

It looks like it didn't help any better, Ben stated, “No, it's not,” a firm voice said. You had no idea what he really meant. “I will fix this as soon as we get the job done.”

You wondered how much time you had left if you offered a second time. You had a total of thirty minutes, and now you must have around twenty minutes remaining. But you weren't sure if it was appropriate to offer it. Ben didn't seem to be interested in going inside you again tonight, so you waited for him to initiate it.

You licked your dry lips, whispered gently, “Okay,” and watched him eventually retreat.

Ben surprised you with a strong and soft kiss before helping you to stand up. He withdrew without allowing you to kiss him back. For a brief time, your gaze met. Whatever had occurred was unimportant because, let's face it, you weren't teenagers and it was simply sex. A quick one. You had done it right more than a hundred times with Ben. Actually, only with Ben.

You felt awkward knowing that Ben's seed was still inside of you, but you were too busy to take a quick shower. Ben finished fixing his own suit and hair and remarked, “Remember to be quick there and don't take any attention. You are a Supe after all, to frighten him well and make sure he shits in his trousers so he will share all he knows.”

It relieved you to see him bring up a different subject.

You complained, sounding irritated, saying, “I know what to do,” since Ben was giving you advice. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

His, “Good girl,” were accompanied by a wink.

His gaze was now and then resting on your suit and again on your skirt. The look on his face hardened. “I didn't know that skirt was that short.”

“It has to be because of the washing machine.”

“I can see your lovely ass cheeks from here,” he scowled, making you turn a little around yourself.

You said, adjusting the skirt slightly, “Stop exaggerating.” You saw Ben was carefully glancing at your legs and skirt, so you changed the topic and asked, “What happens if Homelander doesn't come to you?” He wasn't pleased with how much skin you showed.

“He will. I'll make sure to explode good and nice.” He attempted to make a dirty joke, but he didn't smile at all. Instead, he caressed your arms to comfort you.

“But make sure you don't hurt anyone, Ben,” you firmly stated, placing your palm where the star emblem was on his belt. “I'm serious.”

“Of course not,” he said instantly, as if you had just uttered something ridiculous. He sounded puzzled.

Even though you knew he should exercise caution as well, you remained silent. Perhaps you just didn't want him to believe that you were also worried about him. Actually, all that worried you about his chest was the enormous and potentially lethal power it held. After all, he was still unable to find a means to control it.

“Do you think you can handle Homelander there?”

It seemed better to question him about his strength in order to provoke him.

“Are you really questioning my strength, sweetie?” He asked amused, trying to disguise the fact that your suspicious tone had hurt his pride. “I will tear that lab product apart, and you'll be watching on the TV.”

“If you say so,” you said, giving him a little smile.

Ben continued, “By the way,” clearing his throat and carefully placing his gun in your palm after removing it from his suit. “You take this. Since you are not carrying a pistol, it may be useful.”

You mumbled, “I'm a supe, Ben,” but you refused to return the gun to him. “Every part of my body is a gun itself.”

“Oh, yeah?” Ben chuckled and bit his lips sexily, “Don't even tell me.” You've tried to hide your embarrassment, so just roll your eyes at him.

“But thanks anyway,” you said as you tucked the firearm in your suit.

You both heard Butcher returning just as he was about to speak, so you knew it was time. You left the room before Ben got his shield from the corner. All you wanted was for today to be over already.

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated. Let me know what you think please <33

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[baronessblixen]

Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him. 

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions. 

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters. 

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile. 

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked. 

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving. 

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it. 

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,” she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like. 

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future. 

“It’s good news.”

[rubyclover]

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

[thewinterpoet2]

ROXANNE

Jake Peralta x Reader

In which the reader is a secret vocalist outside of work as a detective in the 99th precinct, Jake becomes suspicious which leads to feelings rising to the surface.

WARNINGS: Swearing, themes of crime, theft, interrogation.

Word count: 15,654

Y/N~ Your Name

L/N~ Last Name

The first time Jake started to become suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

It was nearing Christmas which meant crime in Brooklyn had reached a new level of stupid, leading every Detective and Beat Cop to internally curse every black Friday sale to hell for eternity.

The squad of the 99th Precinct tended to be divided around the holidays, Boyle sprung into action, in true Boyle fashion, buying ridiculously expensive gifts for, well, everyone.

Santiago spent countless hours writing Christmas cards, and for the fifth year in a row, apologised incessantly to an exhausted UPS driver as she reluctantly returned all her holiday gifts for Captain Holt.

Gina loved Christmas and celebrated, to some, in what would be a very unusual way. But in her defence, setting up a PO box for her fans, meant she could have a very cheap Christmas. Thrifty and entrepreneurial, that's Gina.

Whereas, some members of the squad weren't as keen on Christmas. We know how Jake feels about Thanksgiving and with no suprise, this translates to his views around Christmas, too.

Rosa Diaz, although she hides it very well, spends Christmas with her family every year. Now her sexuality was out in the open, the healing her family went through have led, thankfully, to a much closer relationship. Rosa would never say this out loud, but knowing that they're fighting in her corner, is the best gift she could have ever asked for.

Oh, but if you asked she'd definitely tell you to "Mind your own fucking business before I get involved in yours" and according to her, "you definitely don't want that, do you?"

Jake Peralta was a great detective but a tricky human being. To put it bluntly, Jake hated Christmas. He hated carols, trees, "little scary elves that show up everywhere", and most of all, romcoms. Jake despised hallmark romance films. Was it because he was single for the 8th Christmas in a row? Who could tell, but he'd certainly deny it if anyone had the courage to ask.

Y/N, was definitely the wildcard out of the squad, especially when it came to the holidays. She'd told every detective the same bullshit tale of how she was going back to England to see her family for the holidays, how her least favourite gift is socks, how more than anything she hates carolling. Because, jesus, no one wants to hear her sing!

Detective L/N was a liar, for many reasons. Yes she was from England but she actually didn't mind socks and the biggest lie of all, maybe she'd convinced the detectives they wouldn't want to hear her sing... But her bandmates and their followers definitely did.

See, Y/N wasn't just a Detective, she was a trained singer, performer and songwriter. After work she tended to dodge Shaw's to head to band practice or straight to a gig, not that anyone had figured that out of course.

Not yet anyway.

Tne first time Jake became suspicious of Y/N was on a random Thursday in December.

Jake and Y/N were in the middle of interrogating a perp, nothing too gruesome or inhumane, a couple counts of petty theft and something that would hopefully have led to a new lead about a future bank heist.

William Dobson was his name.

"Why do all these perps have such boring names, why isn't he called Franco Goldminer"

Peralta turned around, slamming an evidence file onto the nearest desk. Y/N looked unamused at the topic of conversation but not surprised, it was Jake after all.

"Because I'm pretty sure 'Franco Goldminer' is A) too obvious for a criminal B) kind of ironic and C) sounds like an idiot that still lives with his mum in his 30s"

Jake's eyes twinkled at her quick and easy retort, not that she'd have seen that of course.

"Nah I stand by it, he's got a dumb name"

Scoffing Y/N stopped reading the provided statement, sighing in conclusion, rubbing her face with her hands,

"So we've got nothing, Jesus."

Peralta let out a sigh of annoyance,

"L/N why don't you go talk to him, I'll watch and see if he opens up to you"

Giving a cheeky grin he continued,

"I would say you could try annoy him into talking but you basically do that anyway"

Slapping his shoulder Y/N walked straight back into interrogation, ignoring his laughter trailing behind her.

William looks up at Y/N, recognition dawning on his face.

Fuck, this wasn't good.

"So Dobson, recount the night of the 16th for me again, seems some details don't match up from the tapes-"

Mid sentence you're cut off,

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

Y/N made a sound of aggravation at being cut off

"Small world, lots of people. Anyway the footage shows a different time to the one you claim you-"

"Roxanne on 5th right?"

Shit, shit, SHIT. Y/N's blood ran cold at the name of the club she performs at, it's nice to meet fans, just not in the middle of an interrogation.

Fuck she had to play this off cool, nochelant, like nothing happened.

"I don't care about your personal life Dobson, you're here because you're a criminal. Distraction techniques won't work with me, I don't recall being your best friend, Sir"

Awesome she thought, professional and managed to get an insult in at the same time.

"aren't you in that ba-"

Slamming her file onto the table

"Jesus give it a rest you don't know me"

Y/N's voice came out high pitched, aggravated and very, well, unlike her. This was enough to peek Peralta's interest from behind the glass, this wasn't the Y/N he knew, his coworker who hated anything boring but rarely took risks.

Hands up in defeat, Dobson backs down and the interrogation continues as it was before, absolutely useless.

What Y/N didn't know is Peralta was on the other side of the glass, a puzzled expression on his face;

This was the day Jake Peralta made it his mission to investigate further.

"Who are you Y/N?" He mumbled.

A few weeks later, Jake stopped going to Shaws with the squad.

This in itself was confusing for his fellow detectives, Boyle was practically heartbroken thinking that he'd done something to scare his best friend off.

This led to Boyle doing everything he could to try and entice Jake to their bar, regardless of how weird it was.

Boyle is Boyle, he's very extra, but he's got such a big heart and that's all that mattered to Jake.

However, Charles' interference was only causing Jake more stress, his plan needed to be a secret to be able to make this work.

It was a Friday night, the day before New Year's Eve. Y/N had requested annual leave tomorrow, something that was rarely granted on holiday's (thanks again New York) Jake managed to find this much out from a single conversation with Gina, oh, and because the holiday schedule was on a public server but that seemed too easy.

If he wasn't suspicious before, he definitely was now, something was in the water and he simply had to know what was going on.

It's not like Jake was OBSESSED with Y/N, he just wanted to know her on a more personal level and she made that incredibly difficult.

"I like to keep myself to myself, work is work, home is home. Keep them separate"

Her beautiful voice repeated the devastating series of words more times than he'd have liked to have heard them. Never. None. No thanks.

He'd invited her to Shaw's so many times he'd lost count, he'd asked if she wanted to watch Die Hard at his apartment, he'd even asked if he could do more overtime so he could spend more time with her. In the 6 years he'd worked with her he'd made absolutely zero progress, it's hard to fancy someone that doesn't acknowledge your existence.

Jake thinks Y/N is perfect.

Plain and simple.

Starring at her, lost in thought. He thinks about her eyes, how he wishes one day she'd look at him with the same love and happiness he looked at her with. He wonders what their kids would look like, okay Jake that's a bit far you're sounding a bit like Charles, he internally scolds himself.

"JAKE" Y/N snapped her fingers to get his attention, a look that can only be described as concern adorning her features.

"Huh? Oh yes, yes. I agree, yes let's do that. Whatever it was you said" He rambled at the speed of light, pretending to have acknowledged the last 20 mins that don't exist in his mind.

A smirk grew on Y/N's face, something he barely saw but made him feel like the room just got 20 times hotter.

"Oh so you were listening, yeah? Fabulous, so we can go ahead and schedule the hip replacement..."

Jake's eyes grew wide, babbling out some incoherent nonsense he managed to find two words; "HIP REPLACEMENT?"

Y/N couldn't hold back anymore and cried with laughter, barely being able to form any words.

"I was talking to you about someone I booked using their need for a hip replacement as an excuse, I joked she could use yours" wiping away tears, Y/N's laughter dies down seeing his daze and confusion.

"Are you okay, Jake?" Starring him down, he does what he does best, panics.

"I have to go" Jake stands up bolts out the room at top speed, leaving a very concerned Y/N.

Y/N has always liked Jake, he's bubbly, silly, but cares so much about everyone in his life, he'd go above and beyond for anyone and that's something you can't buy. She has wanted to let him into her personal life for a while but mixing personal and professional has never worked in her favour so she stops herself from letting things get weird and complicated again. Life is as complicated as she makes it after all.

Tomorrow Y/N's band were performing at Roxanne again for their NYE party, she was debuting the title song of their new cover album. Y/N has always been such a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, so "Go Your Own Way" definitely made the cut, providing, Jamie and Simon (her bandmates) were okay with that of course. She was excited, finally time to let her hair down and shed any stress from work.

Jake, after running out at top speed, took to his phone, made a few calls and booked a table tomorrow night for nine people.

At Roxanne.

Jake, Charles, Rosa, Amy, Terry, Captain Holt, Gina, Sully and Hitchcock.

And Y/N had no idea.

Well, neither did anyone other than Jake. This was going to be interesting.

The morning of NYE came and Y/N was ecstatic, eating breakfast at lighting speed, grabbing a coffee, brushing her teeth and then heading to the subway, felt like seconds. You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun.

Y/N arrived at Roxanne at just gone 1pm and immediately hugged Jamie who gave a huge grin seeing her arrival.

"Hi baby! Don't you look a treat, you excited for later?"

Blushing and hitting his shoulder Y/N laughed at his brash complimenting.

"Yeah, yeah, save it Jame, where's your boyfriend? He better not be hiding, we're fucked without him"

"Right here gorgeous"

Y/N jumped and let out a sharp gasp seeing him right behind her.

"Don't scare me like that, dick!"

Laughing he pulled her into a hug.

"Ready to blow the world away with your pipes tonight angel?"

Laughing gently she said "As ready as I'll ever be, right let's practice idiots. Then we can grab some food before we have to change"

Y/N had her mind free from work and Jake, but for Jake, well that was another story.

To Jake this was a stakeout, he had no idea whether he'd find a Mafia organisation or nothing at all. He phoned up Roxanne to ask about the event but all they said was to "Check the damn website, it's not 1942 anymore" and the website hadn't been updated in months.

Jake was terrified.

An afternoon turned into the evening and soon Y/N was slipping on a red sequined dress, black knee high boots, two lace black gloves, smokey, dark makeup and her hair was in curls, ready to take to the stage.

Roxanne was bustling already and it had only just gone 8, she was on in 30 mins and this was their moment.

Warmed up and excited, adrenaline coursing through her veins, she jumped up and down to hype herself up, she had got this.

Jake on the other hand, was only just getting ready, nothing too extravagant just a classic shirt, no tie and a jacket, but a clean jacket so it counts, right? The table was booked for 9 and he had no idea what was going to happen or what would be uncovered.

5 minutes to their opening call, Jamie, Simon and Y/N were all hugging and hyping up each other, knowing this was going to be the performance of a lifetime.

The crowd are cheering already, the bar is stacked and there's no space in the room, the floor is filled to the brim full of people and the only remaining space is one singular table on the balcony of the club, a reserved sign sitting neatly in the center.

"LADIES, THEYDIES AND GENTLEMEN, TONIGHT WE TAKE YOU INTO THE NEW YEAR IN STYLE, YOU KNOW THEM, YOU LOVE THEM, IT'S 'CRIME ME A RIVER"

Running out onto the stage, the heat from the stage lights hit Y/N and then everything changed, her body felt warm and she'd never felt more comfortable. The first notes started of Go Your Own Way and she took a breath then started to sing.

Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?

The crowd scream at the sound of her voice, the sweet melody carrying through the entire club, out the doors, into the night.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

How can I

When you won't take it from me?

Y/N can't help but think about Jake as she sings, music really is true to the heart and god what her heart wants more than anything is him.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

Jake and the squad pull up to the club, Terry already confused about why they're at such a random location on NYE when they could be at Shaws or "somewhere that doesn't look straight out of the Rocky Horror Picture Show"

Squeezing through the crowd blocking the entrance to the club, Jake heard Amy gasp.

"Oh my god, Jake"

"No fucking way" Rosa chimed in.

"This is unexpected" Gina remarked.

"Terry did not see this coming" Terry exclaimed.

Tell me why

Everything turned around

Packing up

Shacking up is all you want to do

Looking at his shocked colleagues, Jake followed their eyeline to the stage, seeing Y/N he unconsciously held his breath. She looked out of this world, so out of character from the person he shares a desk space with, but at the same time, she'd never looked more, her. His heart beating faster than the beat of the music, he turned to look at the squad once more, seeing Rosa's smirk, Amy's disbelief, Terry's enjoyment, Boyle squealing like a child at Jake's reaction.

"Oh Jakey, I knew you liked her, I knew it, I can't wait to be best man at your wedding" Charles then carried on monologuing but it all drowned out to Jake who only heard Y/N, oh boy, could she sing.

If I could

Baby, I'd give you my world

Open up

Everything's waiting for you

During this moment he imagined Y/N was singing directly to him, his heart fluttered and in that moment he knew he had to tell Y/N, he just had to. Or he'd explode.

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

Go your own way

All the squad started pushing past the crowd to try and get as near to the stage as possible, ignoring their table completely (well apart from Hitchcock and Scully) cheering, dancing and having a great time. Enjoying every second.

On the last note of Y/N's performance she took a breath and basked in the screaming of the crowd.

"THANK YOU! MY NAME IS Y/N AND WE'RE HERE SO YOU CAN HAVE A GOOD TIME, DO WE WANT A GOOD TIME?"

Hearing a scream of "YES" she continued by saying "OKAY SO HERE'S OUR NEXT SONG, THIS ONE IS A BIT DIFFERENT, IT'S MORE OF A POWER BALLED, ARE WE READY?"

But before the first note could be sang Y/N made direct eye contact with Jake, who was fondly shaking his head in disbelief. She smiled widely and blushed a deep red.

She knew they'd talk after, and he did too. But for now she'd show how she loved him by showing him who she really was, Unapologetically and he loved nothing more.

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this fic, might do a part 2, if you want to be added to a taglist or if you want a part 2 full stop please let me know:) unedited so it's definitely not perfect haha. Enjoy!

#jakeperalta #jakeperaltaxreader #brooklyn99 #brooklyn99fanfic #brooklyn99jake #jake #jakeperalta #jacobperaltaxreader #xreader #charlesboyle #rosadiaz #amysantiago #captainholt #terryjeffords #ginalinetti #scully #hitchcock

[toournextadventure]

movie night viii

Summary: Tara finally starts to believe that it's possible to heal and move on.

Word Count: 6k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, Scream typical violence, scars, trauma Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v) (pt.vi) (pt.vii) (pt.viii)

It had become apparent to Tara over the past two months that you were impossible to deal with.

She knew she couldn’t be too frustrated with you. After all, your nonstop talking had been put to a halt by whatever injuries had been inflicted upon you. The frustration was evident in your eyes when you would try to write down a response to something before the topic changed. More often than not, you never got a word in.

And, Tara would admit, she felt for you. Not only had your regular life been turned upside down because you couldn’t bicker back and forth with your family, but now? Now you had to deal with the fallout of Ghostface. A fallout that not even she and Sam had gotten over, and their initial attack was over a year ago. She distinctly remembered her own feelings immediately after, and now you had to deal with those feelings without even being able to tell anyone about it.

You tried. God, Tara knew you tried. You would do your best to write how you felt, or even draw a picture, little kid style. But it never worked, and you got more frustrated than she did about the whole thing. You would get irritated and storm off, locking yourself in the bathroom for hours at a time on bad days.

There were days Tara tried to help you act like everything was normal. Yes, you still had wounds you were recovering from, but she tried to act like nothing had happened. Putting on your favourite movies, playing your favourite scores when cooking, whatever she could think of. During late nights of studying or working, she would make sure to leave plenty of kisses on your cheek, the top of your head, your hands, everywhere she could reach.

She didn’t know what you two were exactly, but she tried.

It didn’t stop you from hiding away from her. Mercy had told her to help you change your bandages, especially before you had the stitches taken out. Yet every time she offered, you quickly shut yourself away and didn’t come back until everything had already been cleaned and changed. It made her feel like you didn’t want her around, like you didn’t want her help. Tara knew that wasn’t the case, but it very much felt like it.

The only thing you let her help with was cleaning all the damage from the gunshot. The gunshot that Gale still couldn’t talk about, and that you pretended didn’t exist. Hell, if Tara and Sam didn’t practically force you to let them take care of it, you would’ve let it fester. All in all, Tara felt utterly and completely useless.

“Give ‘em time,” Martha had said one night while you were all at your parents’ house for dinner. “They’re a bit too proud to accept help.”

And she was right. You didn’t ask for help. Not even when you started dragging Tara with you to your last appointment with Mercy. She knew it was about time for you to remove the bandages once and for all, but after how you had hidden from her? Well, even Sam agreed it was fair to assume you wouldn’t be bringing company. But then you had practically refused to let go of her hand the entire trip, and Tara was more than happy to stay.

“You sure you want Pipsqueak here?” Mercy asked. The wink eased the slight annoyance bubbling in Tara’s chest.

Your eyes darted to the side before you nodded slowly.

“Then here we go,” Mercy said.

Tara tried not to stare, she really did. After all this time, she knew it would be a sensitive topic for a while. But she hadn’t seen your smile in weeks. She hadn’t been able to see your crooked, toothy grin after a battle of wits with your family. There had been no closed-mouth smile when your favourite movie score surged through the speakers.

You hadn’t even been able to kiss her.

Okay, that last reason was a little selfish, but Tara didn’t really care. She had been through hell and back not once, but twice. Her first real girlfriend had tried to kill her before then attempting to kill her sister and Sidney fucking Prescott. If anyone deserved to be a little selfish, it was her.

At least that’s what she told herself as she tried to keep her eyes off of the slightest glimpse of scar tissue. Don’t humiliate them, she thought to herself as she waited patiently - or not so patiently - for you to turn around. The small smile on Mercy’s face when she tossed the bandages was comforting.

“See?” Mercy said. “Still as fetching as ever.”

Tara didn’t have to see your face to know the exact look you were giving Mercy. Judging by the set of your shoulders, you were giving her your best, most unimpressed look that you could muster. Complete with a downturn of your mouth and a single raised brow that was convincing enough to get even Sam to hush at least once.

“Don’t give me that look,” Mercy said, confirming what Tara already knew, “I’m sure your little girlfriend would agree too.”

Now that. That had your entire body stiffening almost painfully. There was an instant, immediate tension in your back. Tara knew if she simply walked forward and touched you, there would be nothing but the hard surface of muscles that wouldn’t, or couldn’t, react.

Would you ever be okay with her seeing you again? She hoped this was temporary but… what if it wasn’t? What if you realised all of this was too much and she wasn’t worth it? Tara had only truly had you for a short time, she couldn’t lose you to Ghostface. He had taken too much from her already.

“I’ll leave you two for a bit while I finish your paperwork,” Mercy said with a smile that was directed at Tara.

She left the room swiftly, leaving you and Tara alone. It wasn’t the first time she had been left alone with you since the incident. But it was the first time she had been left alone with you without the bandages as a barrier. She wanted to see you, to see what carnage you had endured for the simple sake of keeping people safe. Did you know that just the fact you had done all of this for everyone else made her feel so uncomfortably warm that she wanted to scream just to feel something different?

“Do they hurt?” Tara asked after a little too much awkward silence. Her footsteps were the only thing echoing through the room as she stepped closer. Hopefully not too close to make you uncomfortable.

She heard your squeaky attempt at speaking. In any other situation, she would have laughed first. Teased you, “just now going through puberty?” Part of her wished she could tease you about it; at least that would mean you were okay and back to normal. You cleared your throat.

“Not much.” 

The first words Tara had heard you say since she had bid you goodbye outside the abandoned movie theatre. Your voice was weak, croaky, almost even painful sounding. But it was you, and the fluttering in Tara’s chest had her trying to catch her breath.

Just her luck, she had left her inhaler at your apartment.

“What are you thinking?” Tara asked when you stayed silent and still didn’t turn around.

“I think,” she heard you exhale. “I think I’m nervous.”

Nervous. A feeling Tara knew all too well even if she managed to hide it. It wasn’t something one could just look past, not when the underlying cause was Ghostface. What would other people think? Would they look at you and see nothing more than scars and trauma? It sat in the pit of your stomach, festering until you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball as the world passed you by.

But it was also a feeling that she had managed to keep under control when you were around. Even before Ghostface. She would never have admitted it, of course, but you always made her forget, even momentarily, about all the scars, and trauma, and insecurities left behind. You had made her feel like just a normal kid again.

Wait. That gave her an idea.

“Remember that first date in my apartment?” She asked, stepping a little closer. Not in front of you, not yet, but behind you so she could brush her fingers against the back of your arm.

You shivered.

“When Sam walked in on us?” You asked. It almost sounded like you were smiling.

“No,” Tara said with a huff, “when you cooked and pretended to watch Pearl with me.”

“Oh.” You nodded your head slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Remember what you said to me?” She asked. She inched closer and slid her hand up, resting both on your neck as gently as she could. “On the couch?”

You sighed heavily. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Do you trust me?” 

There was a moment of hesitation, and Tara’s mind started running through every possible way to backtrack and act like this hadn’t even happened. But then you nodded slowly, once. It was like all the pressure around her heart lessened and she could breathe, at least for the moment.

“Then close your eyes.”

Tara couldn’t see your face from her current position, but she gave you more than enough time to close your eyes. Only when your shoulders relaxed under her hands did she try to shake the thoughts out of her head and maneuver herself until she was standing in front of you.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Maybe some deep, horrific, dark scarring that covered your entire face. For all she knew, maybe you didn’t even have a bottom jaw anymore. Each thought that crossed her mind was worse than the last. What she saw, the fresh scars stretching from the corners of your mouth to the middle of your cheeks? It wasn’t as gruesome as she was expecting.

That didn’t mean her heart didn’t break inside her chest at the sight of the still-irritated skin. Underneath her fingers, your pulse raced; she understood that too. Slowly, gently, she let her hands move up your neck, feeling every inch of skin she could. If she really focused, she could almost feel your trembling. Her hands stopped their short journey when they cupped your jaws, holding you carefully even though she was still worried you would break.

How could she possibly convince you that the scars changed nothing about how she felt? You were still hers. Someone she would trust with her life. That she had trusted with her life. How she admired you for staying with her even through the literal threat of death? That she was in- that she admired you so?

There was only one thing that she could think of that would possibly convey everything she was feeling. Tara exhaled slowly before she leaned forward and ghosted her lips over yours. You stiffened under her hands, but she didn’t move. She wanted so desperately to kiss you until you couldn’t think, but you had to make the final move.

You exhaled sharply through your nose. It tickled her cheek. But then you relaxed, and your hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer until you could return the kiss. Genuine, almost hungry, like you were letting out all the pent up emotions from the past six weeks. Like you were trying to convey everything you hadn’t been able to say.

“Don’t fuck in my office,” Mercy said, appearing almost out of nowhere.

Tara jumped, but your grip on her waist stayed firm. She quickly hid her head in the crook of your neck when you turned to face Mercy to do… well, honestly, you probably flipped her off. If Tara knew anything about you, it was that you would jump at any opportunity to harass your siblings, and now? Oh, now you had free reign again.

“Told you she’d still like you,” she heard Mercy said.

You simply pulled Tara closer.

—---

“What happened to your back?” Tara asked.

You froze with your toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. There was a single speck of toothpaste on the corner of your mouth, and she wanted to reach forward and brush it away, but she knew the scars were still sensitive. Thankfully, you did it yourself and licked it off. Which then left more toothpaste, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

“You said only girlfriends got to know that information,” she continued, “and I’m very much a girlfriend now.”

“Are you?” You asked. That stupid smile gave you away, but she made sure to elbow you in the side for extra measure.

“Your side bitches don’t count,” Tara said. “They’re not girlfriends.”

“I can barely keep up with you,” you chuckled, “how am I supposed to keep up with multiple?”

“We’re getting nowhere,” she mumbled before continuing to brush her teeth.

Your body shook with silent laughter, but you otherwise stayed silent. It was a peaceful evening routine that you both knew not to interrupt. Tara did everything she needed to, you almost did more than her, and it was nice. Comforting, even. You both moved around the small bathroom in sync, never getting in the other’s way. Something that, surprisingly, hadn’t taken long to achieve.

But the question kept nagging her.

“Tell me what happened to your back,” Tara demanded again even as she crawled into bed beside you.

You lifted your book just high enough for her to wrap an arm around your waist, being careful not to jostle you too much. As much as you claimed the mostly-healed injuries didn’t hurt, she knew better. Especially when you flinched when she got too close to the scars.

“You really wanna know?” You asked without taking your eyes off the page.

“No, I’m asking because it’s funny,” Tara said with a huff. “Yes I want to know.”

“You’re so aggressive,” you said. Tara wasn’t looking up at you either, but she heard you putting the book down. “It’s not even that exciting.”

“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her head. “I just want to know now.”

“It was just a meet-up gone bad,” you said. Your hand rested on top of hers; it was warm. “I followed Martha to meet a client who turned out to be a narc.”

“And you got shot,” Tara mumbled to herself.

“I’ll admit,” you continued, “I don’t think he meant to actually hit me.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’d be committing career suicide,” you chuckled. “No one survives shooting a 10 year old.”

Tara didn’t find it as funny. In fact, she didn’t find it funny at all. You were a child; hadn’t even hit puberty yet. And you had already been making runs with your family? She knew your family, there was no way in hell they had known you were following. They weren’t stupid, they took everyone’s safety seriously. If Martha had known you were following, she wouldn’t have continued.

You were young, you could have died. Did you ever stop to think about that on those nights when you were uncharacteristically quiet? Did it ever haunt you that just one wrong decision, one case of curiosity had nearly gotten you killed? Because it would haunt her. It would haunt her until the day she died that she could have missed out on having you around, simply because you had been curious.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you said as you pulled her closer into your side.

It didn’t matter. The scar hurting now didn’t matter because it had happened anyway. You had gotten hurt anyway. She could feel you moving with each breath, but you almost hadn’t had that. You were alive now but what if?

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” you said softly. She felt you kiss her forehead and closed her eyes. “I promise.”

That was a rather bold promise to make. Especially because she wouldn’t let you go anywhere even if you wanted to. You were hers, and she was yours, and nothing was ever going to take that away from her. Not again.

—---

“They got blood on my new shirt,” you whined for what was probably the 10th time since you had started the walk from your apartment to Sam’s.

“I told you not to wear it to work,” Tara said even as she smiled at your ridiculousness.

She knew you had known better, because she had gotten you the shirt. A fresh, pastel pink button up that looked rather stunning on you. But you had decided to wear it to work because “I don’t want to come home and change,” and what happened? Dicky got you into a scrap and now you had blood on the cuffs.

“It was Dicky’s fault,” you mumbled. “I had it handled before he butted in.”

“I’m sure you did,” Tara said, reaching over to grab your hand in a half-hearted attempt to stop you from fidgeting with the cuff of your left sleeve.

The rest of the walk was spent in a comfortable silence. You kept squeezing her hand, pulling her this way and that to keep her out of the way of most pedestrians. Granted, it helped that everyone gave you both a wide berth; your scary dog privileges had increased tenfold thanks to the scars. At least it gave you a bit more confidence in them.

“So,” you said as you knocked on Sam’s door three times. Always three. “Who is this new boo?”

“Someone from back home,” Tara said with a shrug. “I think they went to school together?”

“Sounds suspicious,” you said with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. “Sure they can be trusted?”

“Without a doubt,” Tara said.

You hummed in reply before the door opened. Sam gave you the most polite smile she could muster before pulling Tara into a hug. If she heard your grumbling complaint, she didn’t say anything. But that was okay, because Tara got a little tighter squeeze before she backed away.

“Give us one second,” Sam said.

“We’re gonna be late,” you called through the door that Sam had left open. “If Ma interrogates us, I’m throwing you under the-,” you froze when they both came back. “-hey!”

You pointed directly at Kirby, brows furrowed and your mouth practically hanging open. Tara couldn’t tell if you were surprised, angry, excited, anything. She just knew you were feeling something. At least until Kirby smirked at you as she pulled her jacket on, and your expression turned into a pure frown.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” You asked, your accent coming out in earnest. “You can’t come.”

“Yes she can,” Sam said as she ushered everyone out of the apartment and locked the door. “You already said we’re late.”

“How you doin’, Vitale?” Kirby asked.

“You better put that badge away, Reed,” you said. Tara felt your hand grab hers and give it three squeezes. “This is a family dinner.”

“This is pleasure, not business,” Kirby said as she similarly took hold of Sam’s hand. “If you ignore the badge, I’ll ignore the blood on your sleeve.”

“I really liked this shirt…”

Tara tried not to laugh as you looked down at your sleeve, that frustration instantly transforming into upset. You chewed on your bottom lip until you were all back on the street. But you regained your composure quickly and pulled Tara forward until you could lead the way.

Everyone was, quite frankly, glad that you were leading the way. Sure, Tara and Sam had been to your family’s house a few times, but that didn’t mean they could tell anyone how to get there. Which was probably due to the fact that you took them in a different direction every. Single. Time.

“You are a guest,” you said when you finally marched up the steps of an indiscriminate brownstone. “Everything said in this house is sacred.”

“I’m not here to learn your sketchy family secrets,” Kirby huffed. “It’s a safe zone.”

“Damn right it is,” you said definitively.

But you continued to stand there, scuffing your shoes against the ground. There was something else you wanted to say, Tara could feel it in the slight trembling of your hand in hers. You were turning clammy and your tongue impulsively licked out to the corners of your mouth. A habit you had picked up on once the bandages were off for good.

“Thank you,” you said softly, “for coming with Sam.”

Tara’s head tilted slightly. That was rather big of you. Not that you hated Sam, quite the opposite actually. But you both had this predestined sibling feud going on that neither one of you was willing to budge on. And now you were being nice? To Sam’s girlfriend, of all people?

“Thank you for having me,” Kirby said with a kind smile that you made a point to reciprocate.

“If any of you mention that again, I’m killing someone,” you said quickly before turning around to open the door.

That was much more like it.

The house was pandemonium, as it always was. Kirby seemed hesitant, but everyone else acted like they practically owned the place. Thankfully, Sam was wise enough to keep hold of Kirby’s hand and guide her around the house to find Ma and Pop. You, on the other hand, pulled Tara with you to the kitchen where Martha and Mercy were cooking.

“Thought you’d never get here,” Mercy called out. “Hey, T.” A smile in Tara’s direction.

“Did you know Sam’s dating a fed?” You asked immediately, letting go of Tara’s hand to start helping. “She could do so much better.”

“You know, Sam said the same thing when I brought you home,” Tara teased.

"Us too,” Martha said. She looked so much happier now that she was no longer pregnant. Tara couldn’t really blame her.

“You love me,” you said with a smile before planting a quick kiss on Martha’s cheek.

“More and more each day,” Mercy said.

Tara enjoyed spending time with your family. She loved the chaos that came with it, even as she listened to the children screaming and running around upstairs. You all gave each other hell for every little thing, digging into the little wounds that you all left open for the intent of digging. Your brothers were the worst offenders, and you gave it just as ruthlessly.

But she couldn’t deny, it was nice to hear them remind you that you were important. Their tones had changed quickly after the whole Ghostface incident last year. They had tried to tease, to keep up the image. All it took was one poorly timed joke for you to practically explode, practically devolving into tears.

Now, they made sure to remind you how much they cared for you. They would still tease, sure, and they still took it a bit too far at times. Tara couldn’t complain, you started it just as often as they did. But no one could deny that you just seemed all the happier when you were occasionally reminded of the fact that yes, they loved you. Yes, they had played it off well, but they had nearly lost their minds when you had been hospitalised.

“You two go set the table,” Martha said, pulling Tara out of her thoughts and back to the present.

"Come on," you said softly. You handed her half the plates before walking past her. And of course, as usual, you kissed the top of her head on the way.

Tara would be the first to admit she hadn't given you a proper chance in the beginning. Yes she had her reasons, and no she wouldn't go back on them. Even now, the aftermath of Amber would have her waking in a cold sweat, pushing you away in case it happened again. She couldn't be hurt like that if she kept you at arm's length. It was something she was working on with her therapist.

But now? Now that she had given you a proper chance to show her that you were both more than just each other's drunken hookup? You were extremely physical. Not inappropriately so, but always holding her hand, or touching her back, or sitting so close your thigh pressed against hers. You talked a lot of shit, but you showed your affection through touch.

And Tara? Oh, how she lo- adored you for it. Every time she was stuck in her darkest thoughts, with her biggest fears, all it took was your touch to bring her back to the surface. To know that she wasn't alone, and you weren't going to leave. All her fears and worries and insecurities were nothing you weren't willing to help with. You showed her what Amber never could.

You truly cared for her.

“Hey T, I think your chair’s over there,” Joel said with a pointed finger. Tara followed until she saw exactly where he was pointing.

“You’re a dick,” she said as she did her best to shove him aside.

“The kid’s table is perfect!” He called out. “It’s your size!”

“Yeah, come on, Auntie Tara!” More than one kid cheered. 

Tara would be honest, she didn’t even know which one it was, she was still learning everyone’s names. All she knew was that there were five kids, one of which was too young to talk. Three spouses that she was friendly with, but didn’t talk to. Except for Linda, who always kept her updated on if you had been into the police station again or not. You always let her know, of course, but it was nice to hear someone else say you were safe.

Slowly, and with no one stopping their conversations, everyone sat down at either of the two tables. She made sure to smile and wave at Chad, Anika, and Mindy, who were thankfully being watched after by Gale. You frowned when Gale sat as far away from you as possible. Gently, Tara placed her hand on your thigh and gave it a comforting squeeze.

She didn’t even try to keep track of all the conversations going on around her. The kids were, thankfully, too busy eating, but everyone else continued. You managed to hit up a conversation with everyone at the table, sometimes even yelling to the other table to include them too. Hell, at one point, you even struck up conversation with Kirby, who was sitting directly across from you.

Even though you had made it a point to harass Kirby, Tara could still see the slightest upward tilt of the corner of your mouth. Most had admitted - without you around, of course - that they couldn’t detect your teasing as accurately anymore thanks to the scars. They gave you a perpetual smirk or smile that was hard to look past. But she could tell.

And you were finding clear joy in teasing Kirby.

Tara had to look away to stop herself from laughing with you. She looked down at her plate and pushed a few things aside; as delicious as it was, she wasn’t exactly in the mood. Something warm brushed against her knee, but she settled quickly when she realised it was just your hand. Oh, the embarrassing comfort you could give her with a simple touch.

“Anyone ever call you Joker?” Kirby asked.

Oh no.

“Not twice,” you said with a raised brow as you took another bite of your dinner.

“Only to scare the kids,” Dicky chimed in with a full mouth.

“Or threats,” Alfie mumbled with a nod without looking up.

“How’d you get them?” Kirby continued. “Deal gone bad?”

The few of you at the table slowed down, heads turning slowly to look at Pop. He was sitting in his usual spot, with the usual cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth. The look he gave Kirby was scrutinising and, even though it wasn’t directed at her, even Tara felt herself shrink under his gaze. You squeezed her knee again, and she quickly reached down to grab your hand.

“Are you asking as a fed?” Pop asked slowly. “Or family?”

“You’re Sam’s family,” Kirby answered without hesitation. “Which makes you my family.”

“That’s so gay,” you mumbled. That stupid, endearing smile was back and you didn’t even try to hide it. Tara did her best to kick you under the table, but you just smiled even bigger.

Pop nodded slowly before raising his brows at you and gesturing toward Kirby with his head. You cleared your throat and sat a little straighter in your chair. With a roll of your shoulders, you looked back at Kirby.

“It was Ghostface,” you said with a shrug that tried a little too hard to be casual.

“What?” Kirby asked, her head quickly turning to look at Sam.

“Last year?” You continued. “Surely you knew.”

“You kept that from me?” Kirby asked.

“Oops,” Dicky said before trying to choke down his laughter. Which he failed miserably at.

“I wanted to leave it behind,” Sam tried to explain.

“You are in so much trouble,” you mumbled.

“I’m guessing you caught him?” Kirby asked, slowly turning to look back at you.

“Caught him?” You asked. Underneath her fingers, Tara felt your thigh tense up.

“We don’t catch criminals,” Alfie said.

“Plata o plomo,” Dicky said.

“Okay, Escobar, calm down.” If there was one thing Tara appreciated, it was your insistence on turning things into jokes even after the incident. “We killed the sons of bitches.”

“You shot them really quickly,” Sam said.

A question popped into Tara’s head as the entire scene replayed through her mind. She had done her best to act like it hadn’t happened - outside of therapy, at least - but Sam brought up a good point. You all had shot them almost immediately. That wasn’t how it usually went.

“Why did you shoot them so fast?” Tara asked.

You inhaled as if you were going to answer, but quickly shut your mouth and looked back down at your plate. She squeezed your knee lightly before your leg started to bounce. It was a nervous habit that you rarely displayed, at least out in public. Usually you kept it reserved for the apartment where no one could see the internal turmoil you so desperately wished to hide.

“Your little “movie algorithm” says to hear ‘em out, scuffle, and win, right?” Alfie asked.

Sam, Tara, and Kirby nodded slowly in response.

“This ain’t a movie,” Dicky said.

“Because the movies don’t matter,” you said.

Kirby pointed in your direction. “No they don’t.”

Your leg slowed its bouncing before coming to a restful stop as conversation turned back to normal. The frown that had attempted to make an appearance turned back into a hesitant smile as everyone started to laugh and talk and scream once again. And the entire time, Tara could do nothing but look at you with only a single thought in her mind.

—---

The sounds of your movie came through the shitty little speakers you had hooked up to your TV. Martha had brought the kids over so she could do some work, and you had agreed in an instant. Without consulting Tara, who had planned on having a wonderfully exciting evening in.

She shouldn’t have even been surprised, being interrupted was basically foreplay for you both at that point.

“Why is Auntie Tara so grumpy?” The oldest asked. Which in turn made Tara even more grumpy. She was starting to hate these kids.

“Because she didn’t get what she wanted,” you said with a poorly concealed smile. “So now she’s upset.”

“Do you need a hug?” The middle one asked.

She knew she had to be nice to the kids, she knew she did. But she very kindly wanted to tell those kids to fuck off. What she needed was to resume your previous activities and to have your hands on her skin. She needed a kiss and a genuine fuck.

But no, that wasn’t allowed, she had to babysit a bunch of kids that weren’t even hers. Meanwhile, Sam and Kirby had forever been excused from babysitting duty because they were… well, they were honestly shit at babysitting. Which was rather ironic considering Sam used to babysit as an actual job back in school.

Clearly she had played the system better than Tara had.

“I would love a hug,” is what she ended up saying.

She was glad she did, because that kid? Gave amazing hugs. Clearly he had learned from you, because he hugged the exact same way. Arms over the shoulders and chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t help but smile into the kid’s chest when he squeezed her a little tighter before letting go.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” she said.

The movie continued to play on, and the kids moved from the couch to the floor. You had both decided to play it smart and make a pallet in front of the TV. It wasn’t anything big or special, but some blankets and pillows? Oh man, the kids ate that shit up, they almost didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Which left plenty of space for you to lay down on the couch and pull Tara down with you. Your chest pressed against her back while your arm snaked around her waist. It left her with a comfort that she couldn’t quite place. She felt safe when you held her like that, like nothing could get to her because you were there with her.

The whole situation was entirely too domestic. You were holding her, the kids were nearly asleep on the floor, and she felt safe. It made her feel like she was home. A warmth spread through her chest and she could practically feel her heart beat in rhythm with yours. Was that what it felt like? Was that what it really was?

Should she say it?

“You’re thinking really loud,” you whispered into her ear. The kids were completely passed out. “What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

She shouldn’t say it.

Maybe she should.

It could backfire.

But what if it didn’t?

“I love you.”

She thought she would have to wait for a response. That you would stiffen, back off, try to play it off like you either hadn’t heard her or you wanted to change the topic. But you giggled - practically giggled - and shifted behind her. You pulled her just enough so she could look at you and that stunning smile of yours.

“Oh thank god,” you said. “I thought I was going to have to say it first.”

“What?” She asked.

“I was gonna tell you ages ago and got cold feet,” you continued.

“And you just didn’t tell me?” She asked. You both fell silent when the kids shifted, but they quickly settled once again. “What is wrong with you?”

“I can’t let you win,” you answered quickly. “I need you to chase me back.”

“I-” she closed her mouth quickly. She supposed you were right; she had let you make the first move time and time again. But no way in hell was she going to admit that to your face. “You’re a dick.”

“I love you too,” you said, your smile impossibly bigger.

Tara rolled her eyes. Of course you would turn this whole love thing into a competition. Maybe it was one of those things she loved about you. Instead of letting you know, she just grabbed you by the face and pulled you down into a kiss that tasted of the capri-sun you had stolen from the kids.

She was glad you were the one she loved.

[sorcerous-caress]

Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?

Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye

[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]

[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]

Karlach

She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.

As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.

Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.

She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.

Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.

She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.

Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.

You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.

Laezel

She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.

As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.

Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.

She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.

But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.

Wyll

While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.

He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.

Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.

Halsin

His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.

Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.

But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.

He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.

Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.

True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.

[ghostofashina]

"An affair from which gold arose and shadow too was born"

This was clearly about Lands Between and Lands of Shadows, how these two places coexist in different aspects. But also, I think it can give us a nice perspective about Godwyn and Messmer births.

This is just a small theory I made while trying to built up a timeline, because these two births tend to blend into the other and I think it's on purpose. And I know, where Melina fits in this? I still think Melina is one of the youngest of the pack, as a secret weapon of Marika recalling Messmer's kindling being out of her reach, but this is another theory for another post. Now, I'd like to bring a small theory about Godwyn being the child born from the seduction and the betrayal.

SOTE SPOILERS ahead.

We know, for certain, Godfrey was Marika's true first Elden Lord. But, even it being a common sense that Godwyn was their firstborn, there's actually no true evidence claiming he was born before the omen twins. Except that now, after one piece of dialogue in the DLC, can shows us this and a little more.

First things first. Messmer's dad still is the great mystery of Shadow of the Erdtree, and again I think this is on purpose, because considering Godfrey's evidence, the game wants to tell us he was already there when Messmer came to life. And I, personally, don't think neither Radagon or Godfrey are Messmer's father. I think, in a parallel to christian God, sacrificing his son for the sins, Marika birthed Messmer alone — and Melina, that's why they both share a vision of fire and are direct siblings.

According to Marika's own words: "[Radagon] Thou'rt yet to become me. Thou'rt yet to become a God. Let us be shattered, both. Mine other self."

Knowing that Marika comes from the Shaman Village, and that her people was "grafted" to each other in seek of the divine, he is a part she divested herself later in the story and Messmer was some sort of manifestation of this, but not necessarily a child of Radagon.

And I guess we can agree Messmer was born in the Lands of Shadow, because he knows very well the sins committed against his mother and her own modus operandi. He was there before her godhood and that's why Godfrey's offspring got the title of first demigods. And Godfrey, too, was there with Marika since the start.

I won't get into the timeline of events, because it's a mish-mash in game, and I don't have the tools to explore assets and files. But, one thing that the DLC gives importance is the act of a vow. And we know Marika and Godfrey did a vow.

Leaving his past of Hoarah Loux, Godfrey took Serosh upon his shoulders to ease his bloodlust and accept the role when he sworned a vow with Marika to become a Lord. Which can reminds us of the Secret Rite Scroll, found in Shadow Keep.

"A lord will usher in a god's return and the lord's soul will require a vessel."

We can argue here about the roles of vessel and soul, because it feels Godfrey became the vessel to the Beast Regent (some sort of lord), which recalls the amount of lion representation in Hornsent culture. So, I tend to think that Serosh was part of the "betrayal" in order to ascend Marika to godhood with Godfrey as her lord consort.

That's when I imagine Godwyn was born. After the vow, to consumate the idea of Godfrey being named a lord of the golden lineage once Marika achieved godhood and started the Age of Erdtree.

If we recall the Minor Erdtree, left to the matriarch at Shaman Village, it's said:

"Secret incantation of Marika Only the kindness of gold, without Order."

I can see this as Miquella divesting himself of St. Trina, his love. Marika bathed her home in gold, knowing there was nothing left to heal. Alongside with her braid, it was a departing gift, because she was leaving for a new era. She is leaving her kindness of gold, to built the order. Godwyn was her last act of kindness of gold before the Order. That's why we have so many evidences he, alongside Messmer, was her beloved child of gold.

Going deeper, once we advance the questline of Hornsent Grandam, she tell us a very specific dialogue line, that can show us why Godwyn was curseless when he was born, different from his siblings.

She spoke of a omen curse. Curse upon her children, each and all. Messmer as her own flesh and blood, which I believe, carried the grafting curse upon her people over and over again, being a vessel to an outer god "grafting" into Marika's child. But Godwyn was curseless, because he was conceived outside cursing eyes, in secret. He was born of a vow that, once came to common knowledge, was called "the seduction and the betrayal" in the eyes of the Hornsent.

The birth of Godwyn was the start of her ascension to godhood. The affair from which gold (golden lineage, golden order, the golden prince) arose and shadow (abyssal serpent "shorn of light", shadow keep, shadow tree) too was born. And everything about them is represented of golden and shadow. From the eclipse to the golden ring in their symbols (as we see in the Death Knight's cloak or battle axes and alongside Messmer's spear and flame). So, I keep thinking they both were born at Lands of Shadows. One to purge her enemies and protect her kingdom, the other to represent a new era and maintain her glory. Godwyn is the Golden and Messmer is the Order.

[bloodlust-1]

༻ 3 Nights ༺ part 6

Gortash x fem Tav — mini series Explicit 18+

Summary: Gortash invites Tav to stay 3 days at his palace for the sake of an alliance. Reluctantly, she compromises for peace and it becomes an experience they won’t forget.

Part one -> here <-

Tav and her companions made their way to the lower city, the weight of recent events heavy on her mind. She had just helped Astarion in killing Cazador, a task that had taken its toll on both of them. It ached her heart to see Astarion so depressed in the days following the encounter. Despite her own inner turmoil, she had prioritized aiding her companions over fulfilling her treaty with Gortash by postponing killing Orin. However, Tav was aware that the time has come to prioritize Orin’s death, today.

As Tav walked with her group, engaging about their next target, Gale suddenly interrupted with a sense of urgency. “Tav, you’re going to want to see this,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. As he extended the Gazette, the newspaper’s headline caught Tav’s attention. “It’s not good,” Gale added gravely.

Tav scrunched her eyebrows in confusion as she read the front headline of the newspaper: “Adventurers or Absolutists? All you need to know.”

She crumpled the paper between her fingers, she irritated my whispered to herself, “No, no, no, no…” She looked up at her friends with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, “Who would write something like this? Those damn journalists, always peeking their noses into things they don’t understand!”

"Shit. that damn Gazzette... well at least the paper didn't mention what we looked like. But we don't have enough time before they do." Karlach added as she peeked over Tav's shoulder, frowning at the text.

"Damn it." She ripped off the first page, folding up the paper and stuffed it into her pocket. "For as much as I would love this fix this now, we need to get going. I bet Orin has something to do with this." Tav started to walk ahead of everyone.

“Wait, where are we going?” Gale chimed in, running from the back to accompany Tav’s side.

“To the sewers, we’re killing her today.” Tav held her head high, her vision blurring red with anger. The injustice of it all had reached a boiling point, and she could no longer tolerate the slanderous rumors that spread like wildfire.

"Oh, what fun!" A small giggle left Astarion's lips. "But please, do watch where you step. It smells vile down there." Despite the evident disgust on his face, there was a slight hint of excitement in his eyes.

In the city, the wait has finally come to an end. The bloodshed in the name of Bhaal would no longer taunt the people. What started as a rather tedious quest turned into a ritual with pure malice, culminating in the lifeless body of Orin in its inhuman form - a sight straight out of the hells. Killing Orin was no easy task; it required everything they had to take her down. Tav, witnessing the evil firsthand, realized that Orin was even more twisted than Gortash. Finally fulfilling Gortash’s request to rid the world of Orin, Tav now prepared to pay him a visit. But first, she sought healing from Halsin after nearly exhausting all her strength in the battle against Orin.

~

“Thank you, Halsin.” Tav calmly spoke to him as his hands glowed in pure magic, his hands cleansed her body of any pain. Only leaving behind the small cuts and bruises.

“I really hate seeing you like this. You should not be the one covered in bruises.” He had a sadness in his eyes. No woman should be bruised to this extent.

“Well you know we really haven’t gotten much of a choice lately. I’m just glad we have someone like you here with us.”

Halsin’s gentle touch and intense gaze had a calming effect on Tav, relaxing her body and mind. The silence between them was noticable, and Tav couldn’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful eye. Tav found herself drawn to Halsin’s intelligence and the way he made her feel like he was always looking out for her well-being. Not to mention how handsome she found him.

However, there was something about Halsin that didn’t quite click for Tav. Perhaps it was his almost fatherly demeanor, or the fact that he was always so sweet and caring. Whatever it was, it made her feel like she had to be careful around him, like she was constantly on edge. Tav was able to be as raunchy as she wanted around Gortash, which made her feel more comfortable to voice her feelings around him. Even if it was mostly banter.

Despite that, he was pleasant eye candy. Her eyes matched with his for a moment before embarrassingly averting her gaze away. Halsin chuckled to himself from the flush of her cheeks. “All done then.”

Halsin instinctively withdrew his hands and took a subtle step backward, his eyes lingering on her figure as he assessed her. “You’re truly beautiful,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that was unmistakable. He always worried about her health and it always felt nice to be valued by him so dearly. He did make her nervous everytime something flirtatious left his mouth.

“Thanks so much again. I’ve got to clear some things up, I’ll be heading out for now.” She looked at him with grateful eyes, giving Halsins hand a slight squeeze in return with a smile. He returned her gratitude, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Oh no, it’s okay Halsin, really. You’ve done enough. Rest.” Tav patted his hand before grabbing her bag. She opened it to reveal Orin's twisted red knife, its blade covered in old dried blood and adorn with a nether stone. Tav ripped out the stone and handed it to Halsin, “Take this and keep it safe while I’m gone.”

Halsin took the stone and simply nodded to her favor. Tav was grateful to have such loyalty. Her eyes wandered to his biceps before shaking herself out of that naughty head space, “thank you.”

“You have a sparkle in your eyes as of lately. Though— I know it isn’t for me. Who is giving you such a spark in those eyes?”

Tav’s voice quivered as she spoke, “I— Halsin, there’s nobody…” Her words trailed off, leaving an awkward silence in the air. Shit. Tav felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, wondering if Halsin had caught on to something. Frantically searching for an excuse, she stammered, “Maybe it’s because of everyone’s company that I’m so grateful for.”

“Perhaps.” He once again smiled with knowing eyes at Tav before walking back towards his tent.

There was still daylight outside, and Tav had plenty of time to visit Gortash, even though it had been a week since she properly visited him. He had been popping up unannounced to talk to her whenever he caught her alone throughout the city. Tav was sure he wanted to speak with her, especially after Orin’s death.

Tav dressed down in a loose-fitting brown blouse and paired it with fitted pants to create a balanced look. Her hair fell loose, falling just below her hips. With her traveling bag in hand, she started her small journey to the palace, determined to prove to Gortash that Orin was no longer a threat and that their deal could finally be fulfilled. She had, after all, taken care of Orin, ensuring all business between them.

Upon entering into the palace Tav immediately called out for him. Yet, no response. Tav scoped the halls of the palace and called out a servant, “Hey, do you know where Gortash is?”

The servant, startled, responded, “O-oh, lady Tav! It’s you… He’s in his chambers.”

Tav thanked the woman before heading to his room. She’d never been in his chambers and it felt a bit too personal. As she approached the door, her heart quickened with anticipation. Should she simply open the door and enter, announce herself, or linger outside until he noticed her presence? The array of choices overwhelmed her momentarily, but Tav ultimately keep a high head and opened the door. She called out his name before hearing thunking noises hit the floor.

“Who dares to barge—“ Gortash stormed out of the bathroom, his body drenched from head to toe, a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets rolled off his black locks and plopped onto his collarbones, leaving behind a trail of glistening beads. His eyes blazed with irritation as he confronted Tav, who stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth agape in disbelief.

She caught a glimpse of the trail of hair that ran from his chest down to his groin and disappeared into the tucked towel. As her eyes followed the path, she instantly averted her gaze. Turning around, she focused on the door, trying to distract herself from what she had just seen. “Fuck! You don't have to come stomping out half naked!“ Tav’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her face, making her feel like she was melting in her boots.

“My favorite assassin, how have you been?” Gortash completely disregarded the fact that he barely clothed. His demeanor was nonchalant and pleased to see Tav at this moment. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Instead of walking away to cover himself, he walked over to Tav’s turned back. “I was waiting for you to come tell me good news. So—“

Tav took a deep breath before answering, "Orin, she's dead." With a steady hand, she retrieved the blade from her bag and turned back to face Gortash, the weapon glinting in the light. His eyes flickered momentarily to the knife before returning to her face, his gaze piercing and intense. Tav felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the deep scar on his chin, her mind racing with the desire to trace its path with her fingertips.

Gortash’s expression softened as he accepted the knife from Tav, there's a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He casually discarded the weapon, letting it clatter to the floor without a second thought. His attention then shifted to Tav’s clothing. The blouse was far too big for her, and it masked her femine figure turing all her delicate curves into a shapless jumble. Not even the color suited her in the best way possible. Gortash thought he'd rather see her in a bra than the ugly shirt. He spoked up with a sense of cockiness, "I hate this color on you. Actually— the entire shirt is not flattering, really."

Tav’s mouth fell open in a mix of shock and offense. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I came here to tell you the greatest news you'll ever hear in your pathetic life, and all you can do is criticize my clothes? How classy of you,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with disbelief. Tav rolled her eyes in frustration. It seemed like he always found a way to ruin any moment of connection and attraction. “And for gods sake, put some damn clothes on…”

"The dagger— It's a lovely souvenier, dear." Gortash added as he dug into his drawers for clothes and sloppily dressed himself despite judging Tav for her unflattering blouse. "It's good that you came, I want to hear all about that fight." The shift in his demeanor caught Tav off guard – was he truly intrigued by her battle with Orin? It was an unexpected moment of connection amidst their otherwise mundane interactions.

"oh, sure..."

~

As they walked, Gortash led Tav to the back of the palace, where a vast and stunning garden awaited them. The garden was adorned with an array of bushes, flowers, and lush greenery, creating a picturesque scene that left Tav breathless with awe. Gortash, observed her reaction, tilted his head, and stared in approval by her response. It was a moment he could speak with her out of the stone walls, one that he knew he would never share with anyone else.

“You are a force to be reckoned with,” Gortash remarked with confidence as he looked at Tav. “I am glad that you are on my side.” His words carried a sense of trust and appreciation, hinting at the possibility of a newfound understanding between them. Tav had just completed an exceptionally important task for Gortash, and it seemed that this act had solidified a bond of trust between them. Perhaps she wouldn’t betray him after all.

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure killing her." Tav admittingly let the dark thought slip her lips. The weight of her words hit her, and she widened her eyes in realization of what she had just admitted. Instantly, she flashed an embarrassed smile at Gortash, acknowledging the sudden darkness of her confession. “She gave me one hell of a hard time… she almost killed me, to be honest,” Tav confessed with a tinge of sadness in her voice. She lowered her tone as she continued, “She turned into this— monster. It was like something straight out of the hells.”

Tav had to grapple with the impact of the horrific encounter with Orin. The weight of her words lingered in the air, painting a vivid picture of the intensity and trauma Tav had to endure. Tav felt a bit defeated in the moment, this fight took a lot of her mentally and physically.

In the midst of a tense atmosphere, Gortash chuckled at Tav's grave confession, "Am I rubbing off on you, little hero?" His words injected a small sense of light into the heavy air, although he could discern the challenge in her eyes. Seeking to reassure her, Gortash offered his support, "If there is ever a problem, you can come to me. After all, we are allies now, offically." A tinge of his voice felt cocky and playful at the end.

Tav smiled slightly and nodded her head to his offer. She felt like he was actually being genuine for once and it was a good palette cleanser to what she was used to.

They walked down a carved out stone path into the garden side by side. They were silent for the most part admiring the scenray and company. Tav bite down on her lower lip as many thoughts flowed into her head. Mostly that she now felt insecure in the baggy blouse she wore that he clearly hated so much. It felt strange to suddenly care about what he thought of her appearance.

A fleeting image of Tav’s face crossed his mind as they walked in silence. Gortash was captivated by the delicate features that seemed out of place in the harsh world he ruled. Gortash peered over his shoulder to peek at her. He found himself admiring how silky her hair was and how it curled at the end.

Gortash’s thoughts of Tav were a dangerous indulgence, one that made him vulnerable in a way he couldn’t afford. Yet, he couldn’t deny the allure of Tav’s beauty, a beauty that seemed to defy the darkness that surrounded them. Even in the brown top that consumed her natural curves, Tav was like forbidden fruit in their small bond.

But in rare moments of vulnerability, Gortash found himself lost in thoughts of Tav’s face, her silky hair, and the longing that stirred within him.

During their time apart, he watched over Tav with a keen eye, particularly noticing the stares of her companion. These stares were not just casual glances, but rather intense, lingering looks that seemed to bore into her very being. Jealousy crept under his skin like a slow-burning fire, fueled by the memories of that wizards lustful stares.

Gortash’s voice erupted abrasively from his thoughts, catching Tav's attention. The question that followed was rather random, laced with a hint of jealousy that lingered in the air. "Whose that pathetic wizard in the group? He's always staring at you."

Tav tilted her head up questionably as she stopped in her tracks, “He’s my friend. And what does it matter with you anyways?” She crossed her arms with curiosity.

In a flat, lifeless tone, Gortash elaborated his jealous statement, “Because he thinks he stands a chance with you.”

Tav was taken aback by the harshness of his jealousy. She couldn’t help but mock his behavior, “Maybe he does? He’s intelligent, sweet, and far from a homicidal maniac.” Tav playfully teased him, “What? Do you really think you stand a chance?”

Gortash let out a small, evil chuckle as he grabbed Tav’s wrist and pulled her body closer to his. His hands firmly grasped the top of her hips, closing the gap between them. With a menacing expression, he brought his face dangerously close to hers and whispered in a mean tone, “Do I not?”

Tav's eyes widdened from his advances in surprise and then responded flusteredly with a firm “No.” She shook her head in denial softly.

His index fingers traced sensually around her hips. “That’s hard to believe when your face is like this. Such big eyes that plead,” he said, gazing into her widened glossy eyes. His tone was filled with domination.

Tav could feel his gaze drilling into her, could feel the heat of his body radiating towards her. She closed her eyes, her heart racing as she waited for him to make his move.

And then, without warning, he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers lightly, then finding a sweet spot. Tav's pulse raced as she felt a rush of excitement. Kissing so openly during daylight. But Gortash’s gentle touch was reassuring, and she found herself melting into his tighten embrace.

Their lips moved together, soft and dominating, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. They gasped for air between heated kisses. Tav felt a rush of emotions, her heart pounded in her chest as she wrapped her arms around Gortash’s neck, deepening the kiss. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, locked in a passionate kiss.

As they kissed, Gortash’s grip on her tightened, pulling her closer to him. Tav felt a surge of desire, her body responding with goosebumps from his touch. Her knees grew shakey, and a growing heat tickled her body. Gortash held any additional weight that Tav lost in her legs.

His hands slipped down to her thighs, scooping her thighs up to wrap around his slender waist. Tav’s hands lovingly caressed the sides of his stubbled face, as their lips hungerly devouring the bitterness away. Tav finally traced the pad of her thumb over the deep scar on his chin.

Gortash held her body close, propping her against the nearest pillar. His hand gripped her neck, firmly holding her jaw. He pressed his hips against hers eagerly, causing Tav to let out a soft whimper of surprise. “N-Not here, not now,” she whispered.

“Isn’t this what you want— To surrender to me? " He huskily asked between the kisses. he whispered, his voice filled with desire. His intense gaze locked with hers as he spoke. Gortash's brown eyes fell into a half opened state.

Tav giggled softly against his lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The look on her face was a sight to behold, a mix of playfulness and determination that made Gortash’s heart race. She couldn’t give in so easily to have him devour her so shamelessly in his garden, not when there was still so much to explore and discover.

Tav teased him in a whisper, breaking free from his hold and taking a step back. “I never surrender, you should know that,” she said, her voice firm and seductive. Her feet touched the ground once more, and she stared flirtatiously up at Gortash, her eyes daring him to try and catch her. “I would rather watch you squirm for it.”

Tav blushed through out the teasing smiles. She reached into her pocket and unfolded the ripped newspaper article, "I expect you to fix this however."

“Mmm, tempting.” Gortash clicked his tongue in the lost of her warmth. His eyes fixated on the news clipping, he took it softly from her hands.

"Thank you— Enver." Tav smiled confidentalty at him, her hands were clasped behind her back as she began to walk backward, then turned around completely to leave the palace. Tav enjoyed keeping him on his toes. She noticed how easily he aimed to please her, and she was keenly aware of the power of her desirability over him.

To Be Continued ~

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Shout out to the ones who’ve been following this story! You guys give me so much inspiration to keep the updates coming🫶🏼 hope you enjoyed gortash kisses, mwuah.

Next part here

[torchwood-99]

A Change in Circumstances

As Eowyn's desires for liberty were intertwined with her desires for battle, her rejection of warfare at the end of the narrative can be read as a rejection of liberty, and an acceptance of her feminine cage.

However, across the narrative, peace of war, healing over violence, when possible, is treated as the ideal, and Eowyn is far from the only character who decides that now the battle is won, to dedicate herself to healing and tending the earth.

The question is, is Eowyn's embrace of healing and gardening an acceptance of her cage, of her socially dictated role according to her gender, or does she still manage to break free of the cage she dreaded so much, and achieve liberty, even now the fighting is sone.

What I'm looking for here is evidence that Eowyn's circumstances has significantly altered, and not just in that the world now has peace and the cage has become more comfortable, but that the aspects of her life that created the cage are now gone.

A none too significant part of her cage was Eowyn's own depression, fed on by Grima's manipulation. The mental cage she was trapped in we can see has most decidedly been broken down by the end of the narrative, as she has now found joy and hope. However, Eowyn's depression did not exist in a vacuum, nor did Grima alone hold responsibility for her despair, as Gandalf spelled out.

‘My friend,’ said Gandalf, ‘you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

Gandalf goes on to confirm that Grima did prey on Eowyn's unhappiness and encourage her disgust for her own house, but even without Grima, Eowyn's role and position was one of frustration and dishonour.

Let's look at this summary of Eowyn's position, and how it encapsulates how the expectations of her gender resulted in her her feelings so trapped.

you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields

She was confined to the house, for the most part. Physically, she was caged. She also lacked Eomer's opportunities for catharsis, to go out and confront the horrors plaguing their people, instead forced to stay behind and wait for whatever was coming to come.

She lacks a freedom of movement. The very first words we see directed to her is a dismissal, an order to leave the room.

And you, lady, leave him a while with me. I will care for him.’ ´ ‘Go, Eowyn sister-daughter!’ said the old king. ‘The time for fear is past.’ The woman turned and went slowly into the house.

You can feel her reluctance, yet silently Eowyn does as she is ordered. Her movement is utterly dictated to her by others.

she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man

Eowyn had skills, courage and abilities that would have made her an excellent leader. Yet her sex required her to live in subservience. Her role was not to lead but to serve. Even when Theoden is cured and Grima banished, she is stuck in servitude.

At ´ the king’s board sat Eomer and the four guests, and there also waiting upon ´ the king was the lady Eowyn. They ate and drank swiftly.

The contrast between Eowyn and Eomer's positions are clear. Eowyn servies, Eomer sits. Eomer can dine with the king, but Eowyn must wait on him.

This is the second time we see Eowyn after she was dismissed from the hall, the care of the king transferred from her to Gandalf. She isn't desired to confer on Grima's fate, something she would have perhaps more right to have a say on than everyone but Theoden, but she is allowed in when Theoden needs someone to serve him at dinner.

Even when Eowyn does finally get granted some leadership responsibility, it is in a position no one else asks for, and she is only chosen after Theoden has petitioned literally every other man present to take the charge, and has confirmed that if he and Eomer die, he intends to throw his crown to the masses, than recognise her as heir.

‘Behold! I go forth, and it seems like to be my last riding,’ said Theoden. ‘I have no child. Theodred my son is slain. I name Eomer my sister-son to be my heir. If neither of us return, then choose a new lord as you will. But to some one I must now entrust my people that I leave behind, to rule them in my place. Which of you will stay?’ No man spoke. ‘Is there none whom you would name? In whom do my people trust?’ ‘In the House of Eorl,’ answered Ha´ma. ‘But Eomer ´ I cannot spare, nor would he stay,’ said the king; ‘and he is the last of that House.’ ´ ‘I said not Eomer,’ answered Hama.

Theoden doesn't refuse to grant Eowyn this position, but he does so after literally asking if anybody else would like to rule in his stead, and having forgotten that Eowyn was even a member of his house.

So as well as being stuck in a role that she loathes, the man she endures such unhappiness for barely even notices it, or notices her. She gets very little credit or recognition from him.

whom she loved as a father,

She loved Theoden. She loved him and was unable to heal him or spare his suffering. She couldn't go out and fight for their kingdom, and she couldn't protect him in their own home either.

watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

As well as being pained for his suffering, Theoden's "dishonoured dotage" seemed to reflect upon her. Her role, one already of servitude, was made all the more ignoble.

in the middle of the dais was a great gilded chair. Upon it sat a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but his white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids from beneath a thin golden circlet set upon his brow. In the centre upon his forehead shone a single white diamond. His beard was laid like snow upon his knees; but his eyes still burned with a bright light, glinting as he gazed at the strangers. Behind his chair stood a woman clad in white.

The first time we see Eowyn, she is standing behind Theoden's chair. She is the "great woman behind the great man". The injustice that she must be "behind the great man", unable to let her own greatness stand for itself, receive its own credit, and instead forced to settle fr Theoden's reflected glory, is bad enough, but it's even more galling that at this moment in time, the "great man" isn't all that great.

Eowyn has the potential for greatness. Eowyn knows she has the potential for greatness. But because she is a woman, she is expected to stifle her own potential, to wait upon a man and act as a facilitator for his greatness. And if he isn't achieving greatness, then his own failure is reflected on her.

more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.

That closing line leaves us with an image of Eowyn, not as a person, but as a tool. Something to be used, something to be pushed down to prop someone else up. Something that does not receive credit or mutual support, because it is an object, not a being, with hopes, dreams, ambitions or desires for itself.

Her own self is denied, she is instead pushed into the role of caretaker or "dry nurse", a role that both she and Tolkien affirm is one she isn't suited for, but must take on, because she is a woman and it is her duty to care, and to care without expecting reciprocal efforts from her male kinfolk. She is a woman, she is nurturing, she is happy to live her life in silent, gentle service, even if she isn't.

Eowyn herself speaks out at her frustration, and reveals her fears for herself.

A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’

Eowyn's people pass their history on through songs of great deeds. Eowyn knows full well that if she never achieves a great deed, something she is fully capable of, she will be forgotten. Her brother, her uncle, her cousin, all of them will go down in legend, but she, despite all her labours, despite all her efforts, will be forgotten.

This is a fate that has been, and has continued to be, inflicted in women all throughout history. This isn't a minor complaint, it's a major injustice, one that Eowyn feels bitterly.

To be barred from martial feats don't just deny Eowyn a place in her people's history, but also in the brotherhood and camaraderie shared by the soldiers who face terrors together.

‘Behold the White Rider!’ cried Aragorn, and all took up the words. ‘Our King and the White Rider!’ they shouted. ‘Forth Eorlingas!’ The trumpets sounded. The horses reared and neighed. Spear clashed on shield. Then the king raised his hand, and with a rush like the sudden onset of a great wind the last host of Rohan rode thundering into the West. Far over ´ the plain Eowyn saw the glitter of their spears, as she stood still, alone before the doors of the silent house

We see the friendship, the encouragement, the noise and the passion shared between the soldiers. Eowyn sees this too, but she is frozen, alone and left with silence and emptiness, because she is a woman and has no place in their world.

So this is a break down of how gender roles have created a "cage" for Eowyn. The question now is, does Eowyn escape the cage, or does she move from one cage to another, more pleasant, more comfortable cage.

Let's get an easy one out of the way. Does Eowyn win renown, and establish her place in her people's history?

Yes. Very much so. She won the Witch King, she rode to battle in Gondor's defence. This does not go unacknowledged.

So Theoden and Eowyn came to the City of Gondor, and all who saw them bared their heads and bowed;

But Eomer said: ‘Where is the Lady Eowyn, my sister; for surely she should be lying beside the king, and in no less honour? Where have they bestowed her?’

(Eomer-a nice shift from earlier, where the expectation is that Eowyn wait upon the king, now she is credited the right to lie beside him in equal honour, and this before Eomer knew of the Witch King)

Alas! for her deeds have set her among the queens of great renown.

(Aragorn)

but I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have yourself won renown that shall not be forgotten;

(Faramir)

In that day Eowyn also won renown, for ´ she fought in that battle, riding in disguise; and was known after in the Mark as the Lady of the Shield-arm.

(Appendices)

Eowyn's desire for battle wasn't just in battle itself, nor the more selfless desire of fighting for her people and loved ones, although her defence of Theoden shows that was a strong factor, but also to ensure she left a legacy of her own behind. In slaying the Witch King, this was accomplished. She basically hit the target with the first arrow.

This also clears up another question, does Eowyn get any credit. Are Eowyn's efforts, Eowyn's contributions, Eowyn's skills, recognised and celebrated, and is Eowyn celebrated for them? She does, she is renowned, she is beloved, her people will remember her, those around her recognise her for what she has achieved.

That when she and Theoden were carried through the streets of Minas Tirith, the people bowed to them, and that Eomer insisted she deserved to lie in equal honour to the King, signifies she has stepped beyond Theoden's shadow, no longer the great woman behind the great man, but stands as his equal, recognised for her own greatness.

There is also a hope that what she was before, and who she was before, are also recognised.

Then Eomer was silent, and looked on his sister, as if pondering anew all the days of their past life together.

Eowyn's elevation from their uncle's walking stick into fully fledged person didn't come about only after she earned that right through battle. Eomer is forced to reconsider everything he had assumed about her, rethinking the days that had come before and what that had meant for her. This is promising for the days that follow.

So, Eowyn's accomplishments in battle, her defeat of the Witck King, see her emerging from the role of "great woman behind great man", with her skills and abilities celebrated, but is this a fluke? Is this a one off, and is Eowyn to now content herself with retreating back into the shadows, and waiting on another man, basking in his reflected glory? Now she has done her deed in battle, and like many others would prefer peace and healing, is she content to do so in her suitably "feminine" position, one of servitude and obedience?

Faramir gives us the answer to that.

Then Faramir laughed merrily. ‘That is well,’ he said; ‘for I am not a king. Yet I will wed with the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will. And if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden. All things will grow with joy there, if the White Lady comes.’

There doesn't seem to be much of a suggestion that Eowyn's role with Faramir is to be one of obedience. Faramir is deferring here to her will, twice.

Crucially, when he speaks of his hopes for their future together, who is it that will be celebrated, who is that is centred? It is the "White Lady", for whom "all things will grow with joy there".

While gardening and healing are seen as more feminine pursuits than fighting, the right and desire to be recognised and celebrated for one's accomplishments is seen in itself as something masculine. To be noticed, to be seen, to be rewarded, to be publicly acknowledged, is seen in itself as something masculine, whereas modesty is considered a feminine virtue. This is not a virtue Faramir is expecting of Eowyn, or Eowyn shows little inclination to adopt.

When Eowyn declares a desire to be a healer, for all that healing is seen more "feminine" than fighting, (yet in itself less "feminine" than nursing", and is a role that establishes Elrond and Aragorn's power and authority) in doing so, she is rejecting the "ultimate woman's role", and that is embracing a life dedicated to being her husband's helpmeet.

Becoming a healer will require to take on duties and work that will distract her from tending full time to her husband, her husband's needs and her husband's desires. She will be there for him, but she is not going to be living her life in orbit around Faramir, as she did around Theoden. She will have work and duties, interests and goals, that exist beyond the domestic sphere. That exist beyond Faramir.

Is Eowyn intending to give herself over to the "feminine" virtues of servitude, modesty and obedience? Is her existence going to revolve around a man, tending to his needs, looking after his house and children, seeing to his emotional and physical comfort, so that he is free to step out and change the world, leaving her behind to content herself in his reflected glory?

No. Not one bit.

On the question of "feminine virtues", is Eowyn also going to be caged by the expectation that she, as a woman, take on the burden of being family caretaker alone. After all, she is the woman, Faramir is the lord and provider. Is it to be her task to tend to serve and his to lead?

The first time Eowyn meets Faramir, she recognises that he is at once a skilled and powerful soldier, and yet also she sees the gentleness within him.

And she looked at him and saw the grave tenderness in his eyes, and yet knew, for she was bred among men of war, that here was one whom no Rider of the Mark would outmatch in battle

He possesses a combination of "masculine" and "feminine" virtues, power and gentleness, and while he is capable of using both, you rather gather that he takes greater joy using the latter.

though her words were still proud, her heart faltered, and for the first time she doubted herself. She guessed that this tall man, both stern and gentle, might think her merely wayward, like a child that has not the firmness of mind to go on with a dull task to the end.

This combination of "masculine" and "feminine" attributes seems to cause Eowyn to question herself and her desires, in a way that the "masculine" orders of Theoden, Eomer and Aragorn failed to do.

Faramir, being both gentle and strong, "masculine" and "feminine" is someone Eowyn can show her underbelly too, reveal her own gentleness, because he will not see that as a cause to doubt her strength.

Faramir, for all that Eowyn fears she comes across as a child to him, willingly meets Eowyn on equal terms. He draws her attention to the fact they are in the same situation;

‘I myself am in the Warden’s keeping,’ answered Faramir.

and speaks to her as a fellow soldier,

You will be better prepared to face it in your own manner, if while there is still time you do as the Healer commanded. You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.’

After establishing he is willing to look on Eowyn as a fellow soldier, he also reveals himself capable and willing to take on the role of housekeeper and dry nurse.

‘Your window does not look eastward?’ he said. ‘That can be amended. In this I will command the Warden. If you will stay in this house in our care, lady, and take your rest, then you shall walk in this garden in the sun, as you will; and you shall look east, whither all our hopes have gone.

Eowyn, who has chafed at being charged with "finding the bedding" for the men, in order to free the men up to go and rule and fight, has her bedding and domestic arrangements organised by Faramir. Faramir doesn't begrudge listening to her domestic concerns or tending to her domestic comforts. He also arranges clothing for her, and he does so willingly.

It is Faramir who heals Eowyn, but he doesn't heal her through practical application of scientific knowledge, the "masculine" way of healing someone (if we consider how the stereotype is "man is doctor, woman is nurse), but through tending to her emotional and domestic needs.

Under his care, Eowyn softens up, but she gains gentleness for having been shown some, and still she is "queenly". Still she is proud. Her first response to getting engaged to Faramir is to mock his people and their snobbery towards her own.

Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor?’ she said. ‘And would you have your proud folk say of you: ‘‘There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor to choose?’’ ’

Even in a moment of great romance, she is challenging and sharp, there's now an additional humour and joy to it. No terms of endearments or reverence for Faramir. She calls him neither "my lord" nor "my love", but "Man of Gondor".

In the engagement scene, Faramir and Eowyn both declare their visions for the future.

I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,’ she said; ‘and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.’ And again she looked at Faramir. ‘No longer do I desire to be a queen,’ she said. Then Faramir laughed merrily. ‘That is well,’ he said; ‘for I am not a king. Yet I will wed with the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will. And if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien and there make a garden. All things will grow with joy there, if the White Lady comes.’

Eowyn's vision for the future revolves around herself, her dreams, her accomplishments, her role. Although she is turning away from the "traditionally masculine" role of warrior in favour of that comparatively more "feminine" role of healer and gardener, she still does the "masculine" thing of focussing on her ambitions, her wishes, her contribution to the world.

What's more, taking on the role of healer allows her to move on from her prior existence of a dry nurse, her former sense of helplessness, tending to Theoden's emotional needs and comforts, without being able to heal or fix the problem at hand. Confronting a problem, tackling it, instead of easing the symptoms.

Faramir's vision, by contrast, fits the "feminine, domestic" model of revolving around romance, around the person he is in love with. Faramir's vision focusses on the domestic and romantic, Eowyn's vision focusses on goals and ambitions.

Faramir's vision for the future is a vision of life with Eowyn, and Eowyn doing amazing things. Eowyn's vision of the future is also a vision of Eowyn doing amazing things. Faramir is only mentioned in a coy little hint, that she no longer wishes to be a queen.

This is not a case of a GNC woman embracing gender roles after being "tamed" by an alpha man. This is not a trad-wife happily submitting to a trad-husband. This is not a marriage where the division of labour is split clean down "masculine" jobs and "feminine" jobs, where outwardly there seems to be a balance but is in practise crushing at least one of their souls, but a partnership where both parties are capable of taking on the "man's" work and "woman's" work as needed.

Eowyn is given credit for her own skills and achievements. Eowyn is freed from a life as the "great woman behind a great man". Eowyn no longer has the sole responsibility of "woman's work" and "woman's virtue" on her shoulders. That is several key bars to her cage gone.

So, does Eowyn have freedom of movement, is she physically free from the house, and is she still barred from the bonds of camaraderie we see her denied at the beginning of the narrative?

Eowyn's ability to move as she wishes is a consistent struggle for her. First we meet her, she is silently sent from the room, walking slowly, but moving nonetheless. That encapsulates her entire existence. She is sent away, she is left behind, she is told stay, she is told go.

Eowyn finally gains some freedom of movement by travelling to battle, but only through disguise. After her identity is revealed, she is once more restricted in her movements, forced to remain in the Houses of Healing.

However, when Eomer asks her to come to him in Cormallen, she refuses.

And Eowyn did not go, though her brother sent word begging her ´ to come to the field of Cormallen

That Eomer is "begging" her, as opposed to commanding, indicates that something of a power shift has occurred. As king, Eomer is in a position to order Eowyn's presence, yet instead he not only asks, he begs, he humbles himself in his wish for Eowyn to come to him. Eowyn refuses. It's a small thing, but it's a tentative step towards her openly taking charge of her movements.

The next patriarchal figure to try and command her movements is the Warden.

I bid her farewell, and may she suffer never hurt nor sickness again. I commend her to the care of the Steward of the City, until her brother returns.’ But Eowyn ´ said: ‘Yet now that I have leave to depart, I would remain. For this House has become to me of all dwellings the most blessed.’

Here, Eowyn rejects the Warden's decree. He tries to pass her into the "care of the Steward", transferring authority over her from himself to her future husband, until Eomer returns, but Eowyn refuses, and chooses to stay in the place she finds most comfortable. That she is intending to become a healer too makes you wonder that if she is planning on beginning some of her training as a healer there.

And Eowyn said to Faramir: ‘Now I must go back to my own land and look on it once again, and help my brother in his labour; but when one whom I long loved as father is laid at last to rest, I will return.’

When Eowyn returns to Rohan, she does at her own will. Once more, she takes on the "masculine" role of leaving behind her love in order to do her duty to her country, returning only when her work as she sees it is done. Faramir takes on the "feminine" role, the role of Arwen, waiting for his love to return when she is free to do so, and her work that's keeping her from him is complete. Until she has buried Theoden and helped rebuild Rohan, Faramir and being with Faramir has to take second priority.

Faramir also takes on the feminine role again, when he remains behind at Edoras after Aragorn leaves.

Aragorn and his knights, and the people of Lo´rien and of ´ Rivendell, made ready to ride; but Faramir and Imrahil remained at Edoras; and Arwen Evenstar remained also,

Faramir has work and responsibilities in Gondor, but he chooses to stay in Rohan for a while to be with Eowyn. That Arwen also stays behind, also draw further parallels between herself and Faramir

Just as Faramir hinged marrying Eowyn and going to Ithilien with Eowyn on Eowyn's will, Eomer declares that the marriage between Faramir and Eowyn is taking place because Eowyn wills it.

Hear then all my guests, fair folk of many realms, such as have never before been gathered in this hall! Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Eowyn ´ Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be troth-plighted before you all.’

Eomer and Faramir, the two most important people in Eowyn's life, the two figures who might most readily enact patriarchal influence over Eowyn, have both affirmed that Eowyn's will, her actions and her movements, are for her to determine.

Rather like the Warden, Aragorn slips into old patriarchal attitudes;

‘No niggard are you, Eomer,’ said Aragorn, ‘to give thus to Gondor ´the fairest thing in your realm!’

treating the marriage as a deal between Eomer and Faramir. However, Eowyn speaks up, and reminds Aragorn whom this marriage is actually for, centring herself.

Then Eowyn looked in the eyes of Aragorn, and she said: ‘Wish me joy, my liege-lord and healer!’

Her address is respectful, but she looks him in the eye, taking an equal, not a submissive pose, and makes a demand of him, instructing him to wish her happiness. She isn't playing the silent and demure bride, passively being passed from family to groom, she is blunt and assertive, the agent in her own destiny.

Is Eowyn still excluded from the friendships enjoyed between the male characters?

Eowyn, I would not have this world end now, or lose so soon what I have found.’ ‘Lose what you have found, lord?’ she answered; but she looked at him gravely and her eyes were kind. ‘I know not what in these days you have found that you could lose. But come, my friend, let us not speak of it!

Faramir is Eowyn's love interest, but before she falls in love with him, she views him as a friend. The romantic bond between them is one strengthened with real friendship and mutual experiences.

Eowyn's most evident and important friendship is that between herself and Merry. She and Merry rode into battle together, and together took down a terrible monster. When Eowyn awoke from the Black Breath, one of the first things Eowyn did is wish to hear of Merry and ensure he was rewarded.

And what of the king’s esquire, ´ the Halfling? Eomer, you shall make him a knight of the Riddermark, for he is valiant!’

Our final image of Eowyn, the last time we see her, she is bidding goodbye to Merry, alongside Eomer, and affirming her friendship to him.

At the last before the guests set out Eomer and Eowyn came to Merry, and they said: ‘Farewell now, Meriadoc of the Shire and Holdwine of the Mark! Ride to good fortune, and ride back soon to our welcome!’ And Eomer said: ‘Kings of old would have laden you with gifts ´ that a wain could not bear for your deeds upon the fields of Mundburg; and yet you will take naught, you say, but the arms that were given to you. This I suffer, for indeed I have no gift that is worthy; but my sister begs you to receive this small thing, as a memorial of Dernhelm and of the horns of the Mark at the coming of the morning.’ Then Eowyn gave to Merry an ancient horn, small but cunningly wrought all of fair silver with a baldric of green; and wrights had engraven upon it swift horsemen riding in a line that wound about it from the tip to the mouth; and there were set runes of great virtue. ‘This is an heirloom of our house,’ said Eowyn. ‘It was made by the Dwarves, and came from the hoard of Scatha the Worm. Eorl the Young brought it from the North. He that blows it at need shall set fear in the hearts of his enemies and joy in the hearts of his friends, and they shall hear him and come to him.’ Then Merry took the horn, for it could not be refused, and he kissed Eowyn’s ´ hand; and they embraced him, and so they parted for that time.

Once more, Eowyn is bidding someone goodbye from Edoras. The contrast between that first image of Eowyn, standing alone, left with silence, as the men ride out together, and this final image, Eowyn standing with Eomer, jointly bidding goodbye to their friend and her brother at arms, giving him a fine gift that will "set fear in the hearts of his enemies and joy in the hearts of his friends, and they shall hear him and come to him". is striking.

Far from being consigned to the sidelines, the last we see of Eowyn, she is joining in an embrace between herself, her brother and her brother at arms.

Far from being left behind to emptiness and silence, she is in the midst of a warm and passionate embrace, celebrating a bond forged through deeds, suffering, courage and triumph.

Finally, does Eowyn have "open fields" and "horses"? With her freedom of movement allowed to her last, she is no longer confined to the house. That newly gained sense of freedom is made all the more apparent through her planning to move to Ithilien, the "garden of Gondor", where she will love "love all things that grow" and "grow a garden". No longer is she caged, mentally, socially or physically.

In conclusion, Eowyn has gone from being in the shadows, a "great woman behind a great man", to being recognised for her own greatness. She has gone from having her every move dictated, to now taking control of her actions, answerable to her own will. She has gone being near constantly caged in the house to thriving in nature in the Garden of Gondor. She is side lined no longer, but celebrated and embraced at last by those around her.

Eowyn's circumstances have changed drastically, and not just through the land being at peace, and being tied not to an old man in need of a nurse, but a handsome and virile warrior, but through her own position, her own rights and freedoms, which had once been severely limited and impacted by the sexism in her patriarchal culture, having significantly improved, freeing her from the cage that she lived in such fear of.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I need to see more content of Color matching Killer's freak, and not just in terms of suggestive themes.

Obviously he's not direct or loud about it, obviously it's not easy reading that off of a person like him, but I imagine Killer would pick up early that Color's a bit of a freak cause why the hell else would he be trying to help him so much? Freak recognizes freak. Freakception. It's just kind freak on fire vs knife freak, that's what this has become.

Color is the subtle kind of freak. There is always a 50/50 chance that if Killer's got an urge, Color's gonna indulge it and act like he always does in the process. He is a "go with the flow" kind of guy on the surface until he decides to rip off that facade. His friends already know how freakish he is to a certain extent but it's people like Killer, Epic, and Delta that truly do vibe with it in their own ways.

Killer would want more of it and look for ways to encourage Color's "dark side", Delta would compete with it, and Epic would think of any punchline to add to how hilarious he finds it.

This is a group of equally as unhinged men.

The signs of Color's freak would be evident to Killer long before he decides to take up Color's offer in leaving Nightmare behind. He would pick up those signs and use them against him, specifically during arguments or fights where Killer accuses him of having crude ulterior motives.

And Color giving him little to no reactions on that basis would not only infuriate Killer but also fascinate him even more than he already was. Cause he can't always tell whether or not a comment set something off in Color's mind, or if there really was nnothing.

And then as time continues to pass, that is when Killer's observations start to make sense. He and Color are a lot more alike than he previously thought, well beyond the "we both used to be Sans and got fucked over by the same stupid kid" commonality.

They both have deeply-rooted trauma from two of the same fucking child. While Color was eventually provided with the resources to start healing, Killer was routinely denied those resources.

Perhaps Color has one of those warped bouts of hyena-like laughter too, except while Killer has it casually, it's a red flag coming from Color as it's indicative of a panic attack, complete breakdown, or weak attempt at stress relief following either of those things.

They both struggle at showing vulnerability because of their trauma. Killer hides that in multiple shitty ways while Color has had several years of therapy and a solid support system and because of that developed a stable "fake it till you make it" mask for only the worst case scenarios where he can't catch a break soon enough. (He's had to use that mask A LOT in dealing with Killer before he left Nightmare)

Think Stage 3 doesn't have enough reasons to regard Color as a source of safety? They've both got distinct animalistic traits and behaviors, and Color dedicated the patience and time to let Stage 3 learn that at its own pace. Stage 3 finds a mutual understanding with Color that it can't with anyone else BECAUSE of the effort and comfort Color provided.

And what about the fact that they've both lost their sense of identity and since gaining freedom had to gradually make a new one with the shards they managed to salvage? They both aim to keep some aspects of "Sans", but can never truly be "Sans" again. They've both grown past the point of ever being the exact same as they were decades, perhaps hundreds of years before.

In various ways both before and after escaping their traumas, they are both in constant physical, mental, and emotional pain. Some conditions simply have no cure, no medication to soothe their symptoms.

They are so similar yet so different. So of course Color would match Killer's freak. Under calm and casual circumstances he'd agree with (Stage 2) Killer's accusation of him being a masochist and Killer would be caught off guard because he was aiming to make Color angry. But instead Color gives him that simple admission with no strings attached.

Like golly gee fuck, Killer, it's almost like he has to be one in order to cope with the amount of agony he deals with every day. Speak for yourself, motherfucker.

Unhinged freaky old men is where it’s at.

People look at the chromatic crew and think Color’s the odd one out, that he’s the hinged one, but definitely not.

Bro probably finds it comforting and reassuring when killer licks away his tears 💀. Mans would be so willing to indulge nearly anything killer wants to try or do, and he’d likely enjoy most of it.

Need more of Color matching Killer’s freak and rolling with it. Wonder if Color ever surprises Killer sometimes.