#why. am i like this. what does it say about me why do i find such comfort in its concepts

[beanarie]

i never wanted water once part 3

tommy is also breakup baking, prompted by my dear @sanguinarysanguinity

tw: mention of parent death, mention of child abuse

part 1

part 2

~

Gutierrez eyes him on his way out of the locker room. "Feel like no one ever sees you anymore. You coming back to the pickup game or what?"

"Oh." Tommy gives his damp hair one last rub from the towel. "I wasn't planning on it, to be honest. Too awkward."

Gutierrez frowns. "Why?"

"You know," Tommy says, wishing he didn't have to, "Eddie Diaz. I broke up with his best friend."

"Diaz hasn't shown in weeks. Probably got injured. You know how that crew is."

And that. Well. He and Eddie were friends. They became tight very quickly in a way Tommy hasn't experienced with many people. He shouldn't have thrown a connection like that away without at least trying to salvage it.

He sends a text, a polite, generic one asking about his welfare. Worst thing that can happen is Eddie tells him to fuck off and he's back where he started. He fully expects to be left on read.

He does not expect Eddie to tell him he's moving back to Texas because he's given up on his son deciding to come home. Eddie invites him to a pre-going away dinner at a bar and grill before he goes down South for a few days to scout out homes. And, no, absolutely not. But Tommy proposes getting a drink, just the two of them. Eddie very validly explains that he can't spare the time, since he's already started packing up his life and he's working overtime to save up for a down payment. Tommy gets it. He does.

The day after the dinner, Eddie calls him. "Hey, man. I know we're like two ships passing in the night, but I didn't want to leave without a proper goodbye. I still got some more shifts before I move for good, but the time will go by quick. We'll just stay on the line, okay? Keep me company while I go through my kitchen cabinets."

"It's good to hear from you," Tommy says honestly.

"So yeah." Eddie hums. "Why'd you do it?"

"Text you?" Tommy says. "I heard that-"

"Kinard," Eddie says, unamused.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"You just didn't seem the type to flee."

None of you know me as well as you thought you did, Tommy doesn't say. That's not fair to any of them. "I wasn't, in the past. Well, I tried not being that. A couple times. It didn't work out."

"Oh," Eddie says. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"You've got shit."

"Haven't we all?"

"Hey, I am not denying that." Eddie chuckles. "Do you plan on dealing with it, or letting it blow up every good thing you find until you die?"

"Jesus, Eddie."

"What's the point in mincing words? You did something dumb and destructive. What kinda friend would I be if I let that go without saying anything?"

"So what's the weather even like in El Paso? Does it ever get below 100?"

After a groan, Eddie lets Tommy talk about his shit, about Texas, parenthood, and chess clubs, for the rest of the call. Tommy can't say that he'll miss him. He missed him already and now he gets to continue doing so. All of this sucks.

Tommy tries his hand at gnocchi made with ricotta, lemon, and pepper that subsequently almost causes a fistfight during B shift.

Demetra favors him with a warm smile, taking in the large box in his hands. "Tom, right? Welcome! What's all this?"

"Tommy," he says easily, impressed she remembered his name at all. He hasn't been to this slightly dusty community center in five or six years. "Uh, this is garlic knots and mini calzones."

"Well, hey. You're even more welcome than before. Come take a seat."

December is a stupid time to rejoin group, many of the participants close to the edge from a cocktail of seasonal depression, missing dead loved ones, and generalized loneliness. Tommy knew it would be like this going in. He counted on it. Everyone will have so much to say that there likely won't be any time for him to open his mouth. He's not ready to spill. It will help to just soak in the atmosphere of unashamed honesty for a while.

At his third meeting, Cal, a slender guy in his mid twenties with a curly mohawk, keeps bringing up his mother. "She never wanted me to enlist," he says, "and now that I'm back home and struggling, she can't stop being all 'I told you so' morning, noon, and night. She never says it, but she is thinking it."

"Is she?" Tommy finds himself asking. "Or are you putting something on her that isn't there?"

"Maybe so." Cal pops one of Tommy's fried ravioli in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I don't know, I should probably give her a chance, think first about what she's actually saying before I react. But it's hard in the moment, you know?"

"Tommy?" Demetra says a minute later, making him feel like a kid being called on by the teacher. "How's your relationship with your mom?"

"Nonexistent. She died when I was fifteen." He crosses his ankles. "Fell asleep in the car on our way back from an away game and we couldn't wake her up. Heart attack."

Demetra frowns sympathetically. "That must've been hard for a kid to witness."

"I've seen so much worse since then. People shot in the head by machine guns, people covered in burns over most of their bodies..."

Demetra shakes her head slightly. "They weren't your mom."

He ducks his head, pressing his lips together. "True. It's just- That's not- It's not trauma. I don't fear falling asleep and not waking up."

"What do you fear?" Cal asks.

Being left, being hurt, being validated in his belief that no one will ever see him for all he is and choose to stick around. "Standard stuff, really. Clowns, taxes, drivers on the freeway."

He gets a pity laugh, a groan or two, and one outright glare. "Okay, okay." He exhales loudly. "Ending up alone by someone else's choice rather than mine."

"So you're cool with being on your own, as long as you're the one keeping everyone away," Cal says.

God, that sounds idiotic. "Yes?"

"You prefer it like this?" asks a woman about his own age wearing a green bomber jacket.

He shrugs. "It's not ideal, but as far as worst case scenarios go, it's okay. It's fine."

"It's spineless," says a gray-haired man with a Desert Storm hat.

Tommy doesn't flinch. "Yeah, that's kind of an inherent character trait. I keep thinking I got it licked, then it shows up wearing another face. Scared of my dad, so I joined the army and became someone he couldn't hurt anymore. Scared of people knowing I was gay, so I waited to come out until I was surrounded by brand new people. Scared of my boyfriend leaving, so." He pushes at the skin above his knees, kneading it. "So I left him first."

"You fall back," says Bomber Jacket. Her name is Annie or Angie. She has conflicted feelings about dating a man with kids. "It's easy to stop being scared when the thing that scared you is far away."

He hears Eddie. You just didn't seem the type to flee.

Demetra holds up a hand. Tommy's face must be doing something concerning. "No one here faults you for what you did to survive. Is it still serving you, is the question, or is that just what you're used to?"

He doesn't bake when he gets home. He drinks half the beers in his fridge and does a shockingly efficient job of cleaning his house, while drafting and deleting twenty-seven different texts. He then wakes up the next day, and goes to the pickup game.

Gutierrez scores four rebounds on him and doesn't shut up about it for the rest of their next shift. Tommy grumbles, and talks shit, and promises he won't have much to brag about next time.

[vrystalius]

hi! Ive been reading ur fics for a while and i love them sm and hope ur enjoying ur break!

I was wondering if u could write about giyuu apologizing after an arguement?

once again i absolutely love ur fics lol 💗

Apologies

Giyuu apologising after an argument— how does he do it?

Pairing: married!Giyuu x gn!married!reader

“Why can’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m the only one trying here!”

You immediately regretted those words the second they left your mouth. Washing out your mouth with soap won’t wash that expression of your husband from your face, him staring at you in both disbelief and deep guilt. Giyuu knows that he can come off as cold or even uncaring, even to you. It’s never intentional but rather a terrible habit he seemingly can’t get rid off and it keeps forcing him to push people away from him. That’s why it may seem he doesn’t try hard enough to express his thoughts, his feelings.

Despite knowing that you will be understanding and listen to his worries, hold him while you kiss his face until he finally smiles again, all those fears and thoughts that dwell on horrific events he experiences on a daily gone in mere seconds.

So, who should apologise first? Giyuu, or you?

Since your husband left your house after the argument, probably wanting to take a walk or get some fresh air, you had time to think about what to do to apologise to him. Directly talking to him might scare him off and result into him being too intimidated to answer or scurry off to hide somewhere else to avoid you altogether. A letter could work, right?

Composing and thinking about every word, every sentence helped you sort your thoughts out and properly speak about the argument from your perspective while also staying respectful to his own view of the issues. You just hoped that your crow was awake to deliver a letter to your husband. If not, you’ll leave it in your bedroom for your husband to find and read quietly while you waited on him somewhere else.

But before you could prepare a method for Giyuu receiving your letter, Kanzaburo, your husband’s elderly crow, weakly called out to you and ruffled his feathers while resting on your windowsill. A letter was secured around his neck. Gently, you took the bird and put it to rest on your lap, giving him well-deserved scratches while gently unravelling the letter from his neck. It was written by Giyuu, obviously, but before you could read, the door to the room opened and your husband stood in the doorframe, staring down at you in surprise. He eyed you, then the letter in your hands.

“Have you.. read it?”

“No, Kanzaburo just delivered it.”

“Ah.”

You could see the gears shifting inside his mind. He probably overestimated the senior crow and thought the letter would be delivered faster. You scratched the crows head and glanced back to the paper in your hand.

“Should I read it? Or do you want to say everything you wrote down to me personally?”

Giyuu silently averted his eyes, his shoulders sagging and a small frown spreading on his face. He was avoiding to look into your eyes.

“No. I’ll be in the bedroom.”

You watched your husband slowly close the door, leaving you alone with his elder companion. While the crow was contently preparing to nap on your lap, you opened the letter.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

My dearest,

I am sorry. I know I’ve caused arguments again and again because of my silence and my behaviour over all. You feel like you’re the only one trying in this relationship and I’m sorry for that. I thought that if I stayed silent it would be easier for the both of us but that is clearly not the case. I should’ve realised much sooner, but instead I am only doing it now.

I am just too scared to scare you off with my problems and issues since you have your own, just like everyone else does. You are important to me so you always are my priority. My thoughts and feelings can wait, so I stay quiet.

You deserve better than the way I am treating you, you deserve so, so much better. You’ve been patient with me, you stayed with me for so long, through good and bad times. I don’t deserve your love.

I want to do better and I will. Please have a little more patience with me. Please.

I love you, I am sorry that I haven’t said it enough times. I am sorry if you don’t believe me.

Yours forever,

Tomioka Giyuu.

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳༚

💠

Thank you so much for requesting!! I’ve been seeing you interact with my posts pretty often so thank you for all your love and support <33 I’ll happily write more requests for you in the future if you liked this one!

Also, I haven’t forgot about Kyojuro’s thighs request :,) I started writing it and it’s halfway finished— my NSFW meter just ran out and I started writing this instead XD

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally <3

[s4bbatical]

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want | Part 3. (Rivals Declan O'Hara x Reader 18+)

Part 1. Part 2. Warnings: profanities, consumption of alcohol and cigarette use. hints of sex! age gap (reader!22) enjoy!

━━━━━━☆━━━━━━

You're at your desk when you hear the news, the entire office in commotion as Cameron, Tony and Declan appear after the wrap of Declan's newest episode.

"Rupert said yes?" You gasp, smacking Seb's arm. "Fucking brilliant, man." You say, grinning. "Declan's gonna take a chunk out of his neck, it's gonna be grand." You look over at Declan, who's clinking glasses with Tony in his office.

"I'm just grateful our efforts aren't going to waste. Christ knows how much time we put into this sleazy bastard." Seb grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Why you look so down on yourself Seb?" You ask, standing up straight from your previous position of leaning against the oak desk.

"I don't know, y/n. Maybe you can figure that out yourself." He says bluntly, walking away towards the common space.

Your jaw drops slightly, throwing your arms up. "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself, grabbing the back of your neck. You had been turning down Seb's advances on you due to your clandestine actions with Declan, not realizing how much of an impact it really had on the ginger. You knew he liked you a little more than just friends, you just hoped he'd let go of it sooner than later.

As far as you were concerned, still no one knew about you and Declan. You tried to stay focused on your work and not overthink it much, although it was on your mind every minute of your waking hours. Not telling anyone, especially your new best friend Taggie, was taking a toll on you. How does one tell another that they find their dad very attractive, and also have been banging him in his office after hours? It wasn't an easy feat for anyone. You tried to remind yourself that it was okay to have a little fun, as long as no one else knew about it.

You jump slightly as you notice Declan standing by your desk, straightening out your blazer as you nod towards him. "Declan, hi. Congratulations on securing the interview with Rupert." You say, giving him a smile.

"Thanks, y/n. You've been a great help with it all, I wouldn't be as confident as I am without you." He says, a smirk growing on his face. "Would you mind doing overtime on Saturday? To help me with additional flawed research?" He asks, now properly smiling.

"Ah, I would, but your daughter has asked me to accompany her in catering for Baddingham's falconery that day. I'm sorry." You admit, shrugging.

"That's alright. Will you be coming to our home for dinner afterwards, then?" He asks.

You grin, tapping your chin in thought satirically. "Yeah, I guess so." You say, letting out a small laugh.

"Great, see you then." He says, a light tap on your bottom as he walks away.

You gasp lightly, looking around hastily to ensure no one saw. "Unbelievable." You whisper to yourself, sitting down at your desk.

-

As Saturday rolls around, you find yourself bright and early at The Priory, attempting to hold back your yawns as you prepare cheese and fruit platters with Taggie.

"Can I ask you something?" Taggie asks, rinsing a bowl of grapes.

"Course, yeah. What's up?" You say, slicing wedges of brie.

"Do you think my dad should go through with interviewing Rupert?" She inquires timidly, putting the bowl of grapes on the kitchen table.

"Rupert is an asshole. He deserves anything that is thrown at him." You say bitterly out of respect for your friend, and her father.

"Y/n, I don't think he should go through with it." Taggie says, meeting your eyes. "I'm afraid my father will ruin him." She whispers, frowning.

"Taggie," You start, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Where is this coming from?" You ask, worried about her concerns.

"I think Rupert isn't as horrible as everyone thinks he is. He sincerely apologized to me, and I can tell he wasn't just doing it out of spite for me or my father." She explains, sighing. "After you left before the party ended, we slow danced together and..." She trails off, seeming upset with herself. "We shouldn't've, I know. But there's something about him that isn't worth destroying him over." She finishes.

You furrow your brows and purse your lips. "I'm not the one to call the shots on this, Tags. You know that." You say.

"My father listens to you better than me, for some reason." She says, causing your breath to go still. "I don't know why, but I would like for you to try saying something." She pleas. "For me, y/n. Please."

You let out a deep sigh, letting go of your breath. "Fine, I will. Don't get mad if he goes through with it, though." You mumble, reorganizing the assembly of cheeses.

"Thank you." Taggie smiles, giving you a side hug.

"Course." You whisper, it was the least you could do considering what secrets you've withheld from her already.

"Taggie!" Declan yells, entering the kitchen. He is taken aback by our presence, perhaps not expecting you so early in the morning. "Y/n, hello." He smiles. "Have you seen my plaid shirt your mum put out to dry?" He asks his daughter.

"I folded it up in your dresser, dad." Taggie says, causing Declan to nod.

"Right, course. Thank you darling." He places a kiss on her head, secretly gliding his fingers across your lower back as he steps away. "See you girls later." He says, waving as he exits the kitchen.

"Why'd you look at my dad like that?" She queries, nudging you.

"Like what?" You say defensively.

"Like he was a piece of meat." She says, scoffing.

"Your dad's hot, that's not my fault. It's not like I'm doing anything." You exclaim, raising your hands.

"Good, you better not." She says jokingly, grinning at the banter between the two of you.

You laugh, trying to not frown at your inner thoughts.

Only if you knew, Taggie. Only if.

-

Declan is in the office, going through evidence against Rupert as he notices Charles Fairburn reorganizing his office. "Charles!" He says out of surprise.

"Oh, hello." Charles says. "I didn't expect to see anybody."

"I'm researching Campbell-Black and needed something from my office." He says, approaching Fairburn.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Tony Baddingham had Declan O'Hara doing his dirty work." The road of Baddingham's distaste for Campbell-Black is a long one, and quite complicated enough even for you to even know about.

"I have my own reasons for wanting to take that bastard down." Declan interjects.

"You know, in different circumstances, you and Rupert could've been friends." Charles says simply. "Both complicated, both stubborn, misunderstood." He jests, putting down office supplies on his new desk.

"Bollocks." Declan states. "What are you doing in on a Saturday?" He queries.

Charles clicks his tongue, "Moving offices ahead of my grand return." He says, now holding a clipboard. "Apparently, my recent coronary episode makes me a medical liability." He says, referring to the panic attack that happened on New Years. "Which is why Cameron Cook is now controller of programmes and I'm--"

"Head of Religious Broadcasting." Declan says, reading the new plaque on the door underneath Charles' name. He looks back and gives him a look of sympathy.

Charles scoffs. "I can't begrudge her too much. Climbing the greasy pole requires its own set of skills." He mumbles, sitting down. "Especially when the greasy pole in question, lives in Tony Baddingham's trousers." He says sarcastically. A moment of silence passes by.

"How's the heart?" Declan asks, redirecting the conversation.

Charles sighs. "Oh, you know, broken." He goes quiet for a moment. "How's the new journalist, Declan?" He asks, watching as Declan's face contorts into bewilderment.

"What'd you mean by that?" He asks, attempting to act confused by Fairburn's statement. Heat rose to his face as his heart began to race.

Charles gives him a weak smile before speaking again. "I'm sorry for what I saw at the New Year's Eve party. I was out in the garden and wasn't expecting to see you, especially with y/n." He says quietly, Declan staying dead silent. Fuck.

"I'm not telling anyone." Charles adds, seeing the worry in O'Hara's face. "Don't show Tony any weakness, Declan." He abruptly says. "Or this is what you get." He whispers sadly, referring to his new demoted office space.

Declan looks down for a moment, unable to find words as he slowly walks away. He looks back again at Charles Fairburn before he returns to his office, closing the door and running a hand through his dark curls.

Charles knew of Declan's dirty secret, but regardless of what assurance he is given, he has to keep it completely under wraps now. He has to be careful, and so do you.

He notices a folder on his desk, opening it to reveal a note from the sender mentioning of a phone call regarding Rupert Campbell-Black accompanied by a photo. He grins, his worries dissipating as more evidence has landed in his lap. He folds it up tightly, enclosing it in a new envelope with a devilish grin.

-

You find yourself back at The Priory with Taggie later that afternoon, your stomach unwell from seeing all the dead birds that day.

"God, it's astounding how they manage to eat and drink so much while killing those innocent creatures." You say, taking a leftover ham sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

Declan enters the house, returning after his time at the office. "Ah, how was the shoot?"

"Well, they killed loads of birds," You say, swallowing your food.

"But they liked my food." Taggie finishes the sentence for you. Declan chuckles. "Rupert stopped by." She adds, crossing her arms.

You watch in bemusement as Declan reacts poorly. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Is there no place free of that man?" He exclaims, walking away.

Taggie furrows her brows, looking over at you to do something.

You sigh, taking the last bite of your sandwich as you follow her father into the other room. "I'll talk to him." You mumble to Taggie as you pass her.

After quickening your pace, you follow him into the master bedroom, where he begins unloading his blazer. "You shouldn't be so harsh on Rupert, y'know." You begin to say, closing the door behind you.

"And what makes you think you have any say in that?" Declan replies with an edge in his voice, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it.

"Taggie's forgiven him, I think you can let it go-"

"Let it go?! Let go of the fact that he groped my daughter? That my own wife still wants to sleep with him even though he's a horrible fucking bastard?!" Declan yells, aggressively huffing on his cigarette.

"Look, I understand where you're coming from Declan, but this could backfire and then what happens to you, huh? What if he ends up burying you into the ground instead of the other way around?!" You try to explain, holding your place as Declan begins to undo his shirt, tossing it onto the bed. You stare at his torso as he breathes heavily in anger, his chest rising and falling. Time and place, time and place.

"He will not do any such thing." Declan mutters harshly, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray atop his dresser. "You know that Charles Fairburn knows of us, huh?" He says, leaning against a bed post.

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his statement. "What? How?" You ask meekly, guilt mixed with fear rising up your throat from the pit of your stomach. "But no one saw us?" You whisper, beginning to pace back forth.

"Well he did." Declan states flatly. He grabs your arm and halts your movements. "He said he won't tell a soul, but this means we have to keep it controlled or this can no longer happen, y/n." He whispers firmly, staring into your eyes.

"I think I'd rather quit than stop whatever this is." You mumble, turning yourself completely towards Declan.

The two of you stare deeply at one another, Declan placing a hand on your cheek. "I need to control myself." He whispers, leaning in close enough to have his lips hover over yours.

"No one can see us now, Declan." You remind him.

-

The two of you come undone in multiple positions. You find yourself cuddled up beside Declan as he lights a cigarette, inhaling as he strokes your hair.

"Thanks for that, I needed a good fuck." You joke, closing your eyes as Declan hums.

"My pleasure." He grins, inhaling his cigarette once again.

"Wait, shit." You say, sitting up abruptly. Declan looks at you with confusion. "Taggie is still here, she must be concerned why it's taking so long." You say worriedly, getting out of the bed and retrieving your clothes.

Declan watches you with a smirk, his eyes trailing over your exposed body as you shimmy your underwear and jeans back on, following with your shirt.

You run over to Declan's side of the bed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "I'll see you for dinner, Mister O'Hara." You tease, smoothening your hair as you exit the grand master bedroom. He simply laughs, inhaling his cigarette.

You hurry down the hall, slowing down your pace as you look for Taggie.

"Tags?" You yell, eventually stumbling across Declan's study.

She had opened his file of evidence against Rupert, abruptly closing it when she hears you approach. "I-I was just looking through it, I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father." She says hastily, getting up from the desk chair.

"Taggie, relax. It's okay." You say, hoping nothing about your appearance gives away what you had been doing for the past half an hour. "I tried convincing him, I really did. He wouldn't budge, Tags." You admit, sighing. "Maybe you can warn Rupert, I don't know. I think your dad has more dirt on him than we know." You warn, running a hand through your hair.

"Maybe I should talk to him, then." Taggie says, beginning to walk past you.

"No-!" You say, grabbing her arm. She looks at you with confusion. "He seems exhausted, I think he needs to be left alone to be completely honest." You say, hoping Taggie would drop the whole thing for today.

"Alright, then." She says, your grasp loosening on her arm. "I'm gonna start making dinner, then. Care to help?" She asks, walking slowly out of the study.

"Always." You say with a smile, following Taggie out the door.

-

As the evening rolled around, you found yourself around the dining table with Taggie to your left, Maud and Caitlin on the other side as Declan sat at the head of the table.

"This food is incredible, Tag." Maud muses, taking another bite of the dish.

"It's y/n's recipe, actually." Taggie admits, smiling at you.

"Oh, y/n. Lovely job, then." Maud says, sending a smile towards you.

"Thanks Maud. It's my mom's favorite dish. I ate it a lot growing up." You say, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm, American culture doesn't taste as bland as I thought, then." She remarks, taking another bite.

"Be nice, Maud." Declan warns, glaring at his wife.

"Actually, my mom's from Greece. It's Mediterranean, not American." You correct her, trying to hide a shit-faced grin behind your glass of wine.

Caitlin stifles a laugh, earning a light kick of the shin from Taggie.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." Maud apologizes, clearly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay. I agree, American food is god awful." You assure her, taking a bite of your meal.

"So, what's this big interview you've announced on live television about?" Maud says, looking over at Declan.

"Ah, I'm interviewing Rupert on Valentine's Day." He says casually, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"That's it?" Maud persists, raising a brow.

"He wants to take him down, mum." Taggie interjects, Declan scoffing at the statement.

"I'm not doing anything that he doesn't deserve." He emphasizes, taking a sip of his glass.

"Declan, don't you think you're taking this a bit too far? They're calling you the Corinium Butcher, for god's sake." Maud exasperates, putting down her cutlery.

"I am doing the interview the way I want to and that is that!" He states firmly. "Now, can you all get off my arse about it and enjoy this lovely meal y/n and Taggie put together? Christ." He exclaims, picking up his fork and taking another bite out of his dish.

Everyone goes quiet, returning to their meals.

You feel a bit cold in the room, the peaks of your breasts hardening as you realize something dire-- you've left your bra in their bedroom.

You clear your throat, standing up. "I have to use the restroom, if you'll excuse me." You say, hurriedly exiting the room.

You make your way down the hall from the foyer towards the master bedroom, slowly opening the door and flicking on the overhead light as you scan the room hastily for your bra.

You get down on your knees, looking underneath the bed on the opposite side from the door. You see it just within arms reach, stretching your arm out as the door opens.

"What are you doing?" Maud says, causing you to smack your forehead against the bedframe, unable to grab ahold of your bra as you stand up hastily.

"I uh, Taggie was giving me a tour earlier and I thought I lost my ring in here. I was just trying to find it because I realized I lost it when I was going to the washroom." You lie out of your ass, smiling oddly at a very confused Maud.

"Oh, what does it look like?" She asks, not realizing this ring did not exist whatsoever.

"It's small, really small. Honestly it was super cheap it's not that big of a deal!" You force out, making your way towards the door. "Let me know if you find it though, it was from my mom." You laugh awkwardly. "I'm going to the washroom now."

You hastily exit the bedroom, leaving Maud behind as you run into the nearby washroom and close the door behind you. You panic as you stare at yourself in the mirror, whispering profanities to yourself. You wash your hands as if you had dirtied them with your actions, almost afraid to return to the table.

You take a deep breath and open the door, walking back out to the dining table as you practice breathing normally.

Maud had already returned to eating her meal, seeming disinterested in your bizarre behaviors from before.

"Is everything alright?" Declan asks you, referring to your tense aura now present in conversation.

"Yes, everything's fine." You say, taking a sip of your wine.

"Y/n was trying to find a ring she lost earlier in the master bedroom, maybe you can keep an eye out for it too." Maud says nonchalantly to Declan, whose face drops at the mention of you being in their bedroom.

"Is that so?" He asks, coughing slightly as he tries to swallow his food down. "That's a shame. I'll keep it in mind then."

You watch as Maud gives him a puzzled look, her eyes squinting at her husband with suspicion.

"Would anyone like dessert?" Taggie asks, standing up.

"Me!" You say abruptly, also getting up. "Let me help you with that!" You offer, following Taggie into the kitchen.

She suddenly stops right by the kitchen island, causing you to bump into her. "Something's going on with you y/n. You've been acting weird all day. Is everything alright?" Taggie asks, a look of concern upon her face as she grabs ahold of your hands.

"Sorry, I'm just stressed out about the whole Rupert ordeal." It wasn't a complete lie, ever since you landed this internship you've felt like putting your head in a door way and slamming the door repeatedly on it. You couldn't imagine how many grudges these Lords hold against each other, it would've been disputed in an instant if you were back at home.

"I shouldn't have brought it up, I'm sorry." Taggie says, sighing. "I tried getting Rupert to step down earlier at the falconery, but he wouldn't listen. He's convinced my father doesn't have the capability to take him down." She whispers, afraid of her father overhearing the two of you.

You quickly glance into the next room where Declan was speaking to Caitlin, Maud seeming very displeased in the middle. "I don't know if we have any more options, Tags. I think we have to let them go at it." You say remorsefully, looking back at her.

"I'm not giving up just yet." She says firmly, picking up a platter of desserts as you shake your head, bringing out another bottle of wine to share.

-

It was now Friday, February 14th. You and Seb were in mid conversation when Cameron Cook comes barreling down the office floor, yelling about needing coffee.

"You'd think the promotion would make her happy, but she's angrier than ever." You say, closing your folder. Your desk phone starts to ring.

"I'll get the coffee, you get the phone." Seb says, walking around from your shared cubicle.

"Hello, y/n y/l/n speaking." You say.

"Look, I'm going to make this very clear y/n." Maud says on the other line. "I know that you are seeing my husband." She says, causing your eyes to nearly pop out of your skull.

You laugh breathlessly, looking around as you sit down, almost whispering into the phone. "What are you talking about?" You ask, your body beginning to sweat profusely.

Declan's wife has called you, at work, on the day of all god damn days, to confront you about your affairs.

"I found your bra underneath my bed when I was looking for something else." She says, almost sounding too calm for the circumstances she was speaking of. "I know I am one to talk, but I insist if you know any better, that you no longer see him. His work already keeps him away from our family, god forbid someone at The Corinium starts doing the same." She remarks, her tone never wavering.

Your jaw drops slightly, unable to find your words.

"Oh, and good luck tonight. Don't ruin my husband's career." She says, the line going dead.

You are left in dismay, slowly putting the phone back down on the hook. You look around your workspace once more in complete mortification.

"Oh god." You whisper to yourself, getting up to retrieve a cup of coffee to mask the fear building up inside. You couldn't fathom the audacity Maud O'Hara had to tell you to leave her husband be when she was trying to get with every other well-off man in the county.

All personal feelings aside, you knew you had to listen to her wishes in order to keep your job, and Declan's. It would be unfair to both parties if you kept this up.

You shakily pour the coffee pot into your mug, putting one cream and one sugar in after before stirring it with a spoon. You stare at the ground, unable to gather your thoughts up properly as Declan quickly walks past the kitchen with his focus on papers in his hands, taking a step back when he notices you standing idly.

"Y/n, what're doing just standing there?" He asks boastfully, causing you to jump and spill some coffee on your hand.

"Fuck," You whisper, wincing as you quickly run your hand under the cold tap.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Declan says, coming up beside you and placing his hand on yours. "Is your hand alright?"

You turn to face him, giving him a flat tone. "It's fine, thanks." You say, pulling away as you grab your coffee and step into the hallway. "I have work to do."

He grabs your arm. "What work? You've done it all already." He says, raising a brow. "Is everything alright?" He asks, his eyes full of concern.

"What? Haven't you heard the news?" You quip, staring at him with dread in your eyes. You hated yourself for developing feelings for Declan O'Hara. You were smarter than this, and to allow yourself to dig such an emotional hole was the last thing you needed for your brand-new career.

"Everything is fine, Mister O'Hara." You say, pulling your arm away from his grasp. His face drops when you refuse to use his first name. "Maybe you need to ask your wife the same question." You add bitterly, stepping away from him. His eyes widen at the mention of his wife.

"Elvis is about to enter the building." Seb says, him and Daysee both running down the hall past you two.

Declan looks you for a long, silent moment. "We'll discuss this later." He mutters, following them down the hall.

You close your eyes and sigh, walking away towards your desk.

-

You're now standing in the control room, biting your nails nervously as Daysee counts down Declan, now live broadcasting the interview. You exchange glances with Seb as Declan begins with mundane questions before hitting him with mildly offensive comments that will eventually snowball into something worse.

You cover your mouth as Declan brings up the topic of adultery, and how it must do Mr. Campbell-Black well for life within the Conservative Party.

"I'm sorry?" Rupert says with dismay.

"You know, sneaking around, lying, betrayal, sexual degeneracy." Declan lists nonchalantly, as if Rupert was born for such actions.

"Oh fuck." You mumble into your hand, Seb patting your shoulder with a sympathetic look.

"Remember, Declan's just doing his job." He reminds you.

"I'm no longer married." Rupert exclaims.

"Yeah, but you were, for six years! And yet throughout your marriage, your affairs were common knowledge." Declan states confidently, gesturing to the crowd. "I mean, one Gloucestershire peer has described you as 'rather a nasty virus that everyone's wife caught sooner or later.'" Declan reads off of a card.

"Well if you've seen his wife, it's definitely later." Rupert retorts towards the audience, causing everyone to laugh. Declan's jaw vividly tenses on camera.

You sigh putting your head in your hands. "Oh wow, that's great." You mumble to yourself.

"What a fucking arsehole." Seb mutters, crossing his arms.

"And that's the break in five..." Daysee begins counting down.

You nervously watch as Declan composes himself to announce the commercial break.

"That's time for break. When we return, who knows what Mister Campbell-Black might choose to share with us when we return." Declan says through a forced smile, looking directly at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at you.

"...and we're out." Daysee says.

"Thank fuck." You quickly exit the control room, needing to be elsewhere for the next three minutes. As you make your way through the halls, you run into Taggie.

"Taggie?" You say in a quizzical manner, causing her to turn and face you.

"Y/n, I'm here to talk to Rupert. Something's very wrong about this." She says urgently.

"Jesus, Taggie you can't-" You begin.

Rupert appears around the corner with his assistant. "Taggie, what are you doing here?" He asks her.

Taggie walks past you. "You need to go. Just walk out."

"Rupert, I advise you to not do that." You warn him.

Rupert laughs at you both. "Your father's not the first old socialist who's tried to catch me out." He reassures Taggie, putting his hand on her arm. "Whatever you're worried about, it's already out there."

"Taggie, you need leave-" You begin, tugging at her arm.

"No, I know him." Taggie says, ignoring you as she pulls away from your grasp. "He's saving the worst for later. When he wants something, he's ruthless." She warns him. "He'll do anything, I mean, he's-"

"He's just like you, Rupert." You say, pursing your lips.

"Exactly." Taggie says.

Cameron Cook appears, interrupting the conversation. "Minister, we need you back on set. The break's almost over." She directs Rupert, who keeps his gaze on you and Taggie.

"Listen to Miss Cook, Rupert. You have to go." You say.

"Just walk out of the building with me." Taggie interjects, pleading with her eyes.

"Minister!" Cameron snaps, glaring at Rupert.

"Screw this." You say, walking away from everyone. You return back to the control room, slamming the door behind you.

"What's going on?" Tony Baddingham asks, puffing on a cigar.

"Cameron has it under control." You simply say, returning to the corner with Seb and Daysee.

"What happened?" Seb asks quietly.

"Taggie's shown up to try and get Rupert to leave. She thinks Declan has more blackmail on him than we are aware of." You whisper, grabbing the back of your neck as you watch Daysee begin to count Declan back in.

"Where the fuck is he?" Tony says harshly, looking down through the viewing glass.

You hide your face behind your clipboard, unable to watch the scene about to unfold.

"Y/n look, Rupert's back." Seb says, tapping on your back to redirect your attention. You look over the clipboard at the monitors, watching Rupert Campbell-Black sit back down on the stage. Rupert begins to compare the interview to being back on the playing field.

"Seb, I don't have a good feeling about this." You say quietly, covering half your face with a clipboard.

"Just watch, relax." Seb whispers.

"It's an interview, there are no winners." Declan tells Rupert, who gives him a look.

"That's not true though, is it?" Rupert queries, looking towards the audience. "He wants to beat me." He exaggerates, giving a shit-faced grin.

Your eyes widen as Rupert begins to compare him to Declan, putting both of them under the same umbrella metaphorically. Declan brings it back around by repeatedly shitting on Campbell-Black, about to pull out an envelope from underneath his blazer as Rupert does something no one expected; admitting everything Declan has said to be true.

"Oh god." You whisper.

"I remember what it was like, to be the best. And what I was willing to do to stay there." Rupert says grimly. "What are you... willing to do?" Rupert asks in a taunting manner.

Declan goes quiet.

"To your family?... To yourself?" Rupert asks solemnly, the both of them having a stare down as the control room starts to light up in commotion.

You watch in fear as Tony urges Declan in his earpiece to take down Rupert, your eyes flickering between the multiple camera angles on a very, very quiet Declan.

"You're right." Declan finally says. "I'm a workaholic. And when I'm consumed by something... I can be, um... I can be a-"

"Monster." Rupert finishes the sentence, the both of them sharing a stare once again.

Rupert makes a comment about Declan being a better husband than he ever was, which causes you to look away from the screen when Declan argues against it. You couldn't help but feel as if you're one of Declan O'Hara's many flaws.

The interview starts to go in the opposite direction. You look back at the screen, watching Declan pull out his earpiece as Tony becomes enraged.

"If it's any consolation, we've made some really great television." Cameron Cook reasons.

"This would have worked if you'd just done your fucking job!" Tony yells at her, causing the rest of you to side eye him madly.

"Seb, I need to go home." You tell him flatly, putting your clipboard down.

"What? Y/n, the show isn't over yet! Where are you going?" Seb exclaims quietly, confused by your course of action. Daysee also gives you a look of worry.

"I just said home! I'll see you on Monday." You whisper aggressively, leaving the control room.

You hastily go over to your desk to retrieve your bag and coat. You glance over quickly at the viewing room the rest of the staff was in, your stomach tying in knots as the sight.

Heading down the hallway and the stairs, you push open the front doors and end up outside, where a massive group of fans stood awaiting Rupert Campbell-Black's return. They all share looks and noises of disappointment as they see you, an intern on the brink of tears instead of the acclaimed bachelor.

You push through the crowd, hurriedly approaching your car and unlocking it. You sit inside the beater and stare off in the distance. Your cheeks are stained with tears against your own will, your forehead resting upon the steering wheel as you begin to sob mercilessly.

You felt so hopeless amidst it all, no longer sure of yourself as you were before.

-

i will not lie this chapter was becoming so fucking long it's just gonna end up a continuation into the next part... also im lowkey too awkward to properly write out sex scenes because i give myself second hand embarrassment so forgive me this fanfic is plot driven over sex driven (':

as youve noticed ive started to follow by the episode plot line, it makes it easier for me to write and follow. thank you again for the support, and as always keep interacting with my works! keep me motivated ;)

much love,

isabel

[yslende]

Clark lies on the hospital bed, blanket tangled at his feet and his suit still on. The damn suit that still doesn't protect against the kryptonite bullets Luthor publicly mass-produces. The kryptonite bullets that Luthor has been using for years.

Bruce wants to go shake his shoulders around, rattle his brain enough until Clark can put two and two together and add bullet-proof plating to his suit.

The security camera gives him a mediocre view of Clark’s exit wound once he turns on his side. The bandages aren't cutting it; they're already soaked through after fifteen minutes. Barry’s rush job was just that: a rush job. To be fair, everything Barry does is a rush job. To be unfair, it’s still bad.

The report he was supposed to add quotes to stares him down, the cursor flickering accusingly. “The guy was ugly as [expletive],” Hal Jordan said so kindly, on record, about their latest alien dispute. “His feathers were this shit gr,” which is where Bruce's work stops. He eyes it, before rising from the chair in the monitor room.

The walk to the medical wing is short; walk down three halls, turn left, left again. It’s, unfortunately, familiar enough that Bruce doesn't have to check for directions in the winding halls of the Watchtower. He doesn't pass anyone on the way. 

His cape weighs on him like an oil-soaked blanket.

Clark’s trying to sleep when Bruce reaches his room. They're not in the right orbit for the sun to reach them, which is probably why Clark's breath is snotty and ragged. The bandage is leaking, blood running down his side in loose lines over his waterproof suit. He looks pathetic.

“Clark,” Bruce speaks to the empty room, punching through the cracked silence. 

A beat. “Bruce?” Clark lifts his head up. “What are you doing here?”

Making sure you aren't dead. “Your bandage is due for a change,” Bruce says instead. He sheds the gauntlets, placing them on the bedside table, before going to find the latex gloves.

“Oh,” Clark says, rather dumbly for him. “Did everyone else go?” His head thunks back onto the pillow.

“No.” Bruce finds the size L box and snaps a pair on. It’s quiet for a bit, except for the clinks of the tweezers and such. The sounds of someone preparing to sanitize your insides probably aren't very comforting.

He starts stripping the bandage off, ignoring Clark’s hiss of pain. The wound is ugly, red and flush with blood excited to leave Clark's body for once. Bruce douses it with distilled water, again ignoring Clark's cut-off groan. He's looking for any leftover shells or shrapnel, but he doubts—wait.

“Clark,” Bruce says, 12% more urgent than before. “Barry didn't get all of the residue out.”

“Mmwuh?” Had Clark fallen asleep just now? His eyes look bleary. “What, sorry?”

He glares at the offending shell, which is glowing a subdued green. “There's a bullet still inside your wound.”

There's a pregnant pause. “Okay?”

“I need to fish it out. It will hurt.”

Clark's head hits the pillow again. “Can you distract me?” He winces as Bruce spritzes his wound again.

“With what.” Bruce strips the now bloody gloves off, throwing them in the trash and grabbing another set. What is he supposed to say? Distracting Dick typically ensued getting Dick on a topic and letting him talk for as much as he liked. Bruce doubts Clark would find it as effective.

Clark bites off another groan. “I don't know! Want to play Twenty Questions?”

Bruce pauses, the tweezers hovering over Clark's wound. “Very well.” God, he sounds like Alfred.

They sit like that for a second, Bruce frozen in place and Clark silent. “You go first.”

“What questions am I supposed to ask?” Bruce figures it would be impolite to start digging around in Clark's wound so he doesn't have to play this game. The wound gets progressively bloodier.

“Um, something like ‘what’s your favorite color?’ Or something like that.”

“What's your favorite color.” It comes out more like a statement. 

“Triangle,” Clark promptly replies. “Do you like men?”

What. How is he supposed to answer that.

His hand goes forward on autopilot, forcing the ends of the tweezers to butt into the bullet. Clark full-on shouts.

That works too.

clark: do you want to play 20 questions?

bruce: fine.

bruce: whats your favorite color?

clark, laser fucking focused: triangle. do you like men?

[colorquest]

~☆~

D: Hey, hey, how much you wanna bet I can jump from the ladder to that chest without getting hurt? D: I'll land on all fours. M: I'm not sure I really want to bet anything on that, D... S: If there's anyone who could do that, it'd be you Debbie. D: Okay both of those answers are useless to me. D: Vilmr can you at least pretend you don't believe I'll make it so I can rub it in your face when I do? V: ... 🔆 D: Vilmr? S: You look deep in thought Vilmr, what's on your mind? V: I am just starting to wonder... V: If maybe we should ask Maja, if we should be streaming this. D: Are you serious. M: Do you mean from a legal standpoint, or...? V: I am thinking more about our karma. V: What if we are attracting bad company, observing this as skeptics? D: Well then you shouldn't have to worry because you're not the one seeing it. V: I can worry for your safety too, you know. S: It's nice of you to worry for us Vilmr, but I think it's alright. D: Yeah a million jillion people have seen eclipses before and ended up okay. D: Probably. D: I mean how else would we be here right now. V: Mmh... V: Maybe...

S: Oh hey, I know we can't tonight, but... S: You know what'd be fun tomorrow night? D: What? S: We should play night tag again! 🔆 S: Since the moon's so new it'll still be extra dark out. S: I know how much you like night tag Vilmr! V: Only if it's not in the woods this time! V: I hate it when Debbie hides in the trees. V: We can never find her! D: Hey okay, nobody ever said it was against the rules. V: Well I want it to be against the rules now. D: Pssh. D: Not my fault I'm super smart and think like, five steps ahead. S: Well, we could fly down somewhere more wide open if Yuan is around tomorrow night? D: Fuuuuuuuck yes, I'd be so down. M: Oh, I don't think I can tomorrow. S: *gasp* S: Oh my gosh right, tomorrow is your first night at the comic shop isn't it? M: Yeah, but I don't mind if you guys go ahead without me! D: Excuses, excuses... D: If you're scared of getting owned just say so. M: You got me, D. M: My job is just an elaborate ploy to avoid losing at tag. S: Well maybe we could save it for another day and go comic shopping instead? :> D: What the heck, are we gonna be shopping for like, hours? D: We could still play night tag, like, we can do both-- OH! D: Ohhhhh, if we do go though, Michael you BETTER remember to bring that hat. M: Haha, of course D.

S: *yawwwwwn* S: Vilmr, you still seem pretty agitated, are you that worried? V: What do you think? D: I'm not even gonna get innnnnnto this anymore! D: Honestly I think it's just so stupid silly. D: If you don't even believe in this stuff for real, what is even your reasoning this time? V: Debbie, just because I do not worship a moon god does not mean I do not believe in bad karma. V: With or without gods, things are always at play in this universe. V: It is not stupid, not to me. V: What happens if it really is a bad omen? V: What if we're doing something really dumb right now? V: Just to say you got to see it? D: Jeez Vilmr, you gave me your cell so you could avoid talking like this! D: I might as well be replaying Maja's voicemail, you two sound so similar. V: You are impossible! M: Vilmr, we're not the only ones watching this livestream.🔆 M: I'm seeing there's at least another fifty on the same page. M: Do you think they're in trouble too? V: Yes, I do. V: I'm really starting to think this stream shouldn't be up in the first place. V: There is a reason why this eclipse is in such a remote part of the planet. V: Think about it. V: The only places this can even be observed at all are either in the middle of the emptiest ocean in the whole world, or on the furthest edge of all of Halvma. V: Nobody even lives there. V: It's almost like nobody's meant to be seeing this one. S: What do you think is going to happen, Vilmr?

V: I! V: I do not know. V: But it feels like something bad. V: The air is biting all around me, I can feel it. S: Vilmr, I don't mean this in any sort of judgemental way or anything, but... S: You tend to say these kinds of things about a lot of things. S: And things usually end up alright. V: Ah, but see you fail to realise, you use the keyword: "usually." V: As in, not always. V: Sometimes, things still go bad. M: ...you do seem to have some pretty impressive foresight from time to time, I have to give it to you. V: Thank you. D: Okay well nothing's gonna stop me from watching this, sorry not sorry. D: If it means I'll die, at least I did it watching something cool, right Samantha? S: ... D: .........Smumantha...... S: Well now I'm nervous! V: And there is good reason for this! D: Well duh, you scared her into feeling that way! D: -_-!!! M: Okay, I know I complimented your foresight just now Vilmr but I really do think it's... a bit of a stretch? M: This time, I mean. M: Like, uh, aside from the fact that this might be legally dubious, D: enough with that already we gettttt it we get it. M: I think we'll be okay. M: It's not like we're actually seeing it in real life, you know? M: It's just a projection of it, after all. S: Oh, I guess that's a good point. D: Literally such a good point, probably the best point you've ever made actually Michael. V: Blughghhhhhh...

D: It's already about to start anyways, huhuhuhUAHAH!!! S: Ahhh no okay I'm still scared! M: It's just a video Samantha, nothing divine about that! V: Maja förlåt miggggggg... D: No turning back now, scaredyturds!

<[Last] || [Next]>

[thememestrider]

Come Back to Me - Mephiston x F! Reader

Wrote this for the beautiful @solspina : I hope I did your man justice :)

Sypnosis: Following a psychic breakdown, the only person who can bring Mepheston back from the brink is his beloved.

C/W: Blood, angst, reverse hurt/comfort, I've only read Dante's novels so my knowledge of Mephiston is second hand at best, I did do some research and I'm confident in how I wrote him but I apologise in advance for the inevitable ooc and lore inaccurate moments XP, unedited so probably errors and typos scattered about.

Mephiston bleeds.

Blood flows untempered from his nose. It leaks from his ears. The taste of copper coats his tongue and fangs, and tears streaked with red tumble in streams down his cheeks. His soul is bleeding, too. Punctured by the warp, he can feel what little is left of his humanity pouring out into the void to be devoured by the unspoken horrors that call it home.

But he does not stop. He can't. For if he were to fail now, the flagship Covenant of Baal, as well as half of Lord Dante's entire fleet would be lost in the warp forever.

His brothers are relying on him to get them home. Trusting him to get them through the warp unscathed. He must not fail them. He mustn't.

"Lord Mephiston!"

A deep voice made tight by fear breaks through Mephiston's reverie. A space marine; a librarian. Mephiston searches for a name, but his mind hasn't the strength to find it.

"My lord!" the librarian shouts again. "The ritual is unstable. We must leave the warp. Now!"

"No." Amplified by the warp and his own, growing fury, Mephiston's voice booms like a war drum. "Baal is close. I can feel it. A few moments longer and we will be there."

"You'll kill yourself, my lord! Or worse, you'll-"

Mephiston cuts him off with a growl. He knows what the librarian is insinuating; that should he loose control of his powers, he could kill everyone on this ship. The marine isn't wrong, Mephiston understands that better than anyone. But that doesn't stop it from stinging just a little when it is brought up.

Which is why I must succeed now. I must not fail my brothers. I must show them they can rely on me. That they can trust me.

The librarian continues to shout his warnings, but Mephiston is no longer listening. The pull he feels towards his destination is strengthening. When he looks out through the infinite dark of the void before him, he can see Baal outlined in red.

So close.

Pain takes him in a vice-like grip. His body seizes. Daemons rake their claws down his soul. They're feeding off his power, he realises. Preparing to use him as a gateway into the material world. In his weakened, exhausted state, Mephiston isn't sure if he can fight them off.

Through the cloud of psychic agony, he remembers words spoken to him by Lord Dante, just days ago.

"You are my friend, Mephiston, but know this. Should you ever become a threat to this chapter or humanity at large, I will strike you down myself."

Dante had said it as a vow. Not only as a leader, but as a friend. It pains Mephiston as much as the creatures tearing into his soul. He wonders if the librarians are seeking out the chapter master so he may fulfill that vow now.

A daemon sinks its fangs into him. He feels them puncture his hearts and shear through what's left of his strength. He screams. Eyes slamming shut, chest heaving from the pain. His mind is determined to hold on, but his body is failing. The strain is too much. It seems the librarian- still Mephiston can't recall his name- had been right.

"Meph? Can you hear me?"

I am sorry, my brothers. I am sorry, my beloved. I was not strong enough. I believed that I was, but I am not.

Her voice cannot hope to pierce the cacophony that is the warp. Yet, somehow, it does.

"Just focus on me, Meph."

Throne, her voice is beautiful. It was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. Wielding both strength and kindness in equal parts, just like her heart.

"You can do this, Mephiston," she says to him. "You can break free. You always do. Just come back to me. Like you always do."

Mephiston opens his eyes. Amidst the haze of psychic madness, the planet Baal remains tantalisingly near. But Mephiston is not searching for it any more. He's searching for her.

"I love you, Meph," she says. "I love you so much. No matter what happens to you or how much you change, I love you all the same."

In spite of everything he is enduring right now, her words pull at Mephiston's hearts like nothing else ever could. It drive him to go faster. Push harder. Tear his way free from the warp and get back to her. It means cutting the warp-jump short; there will be questions from the captains, maybe even Lord Dante himself. It means failing his duty, failing his brothers. But Mephiston does not care. He would rather fail them all a thousand times than cause his woman pain.

The shift from the warp to the real is near instant, and far less physically taxing that vice versa. Typically, it'd be as simple as opening one's eyes. But Mephiston is weakened, his body on the brink of total failure. The real world returns with the force of a whip, and immediately, Mephiston's world is dominated by agony.

The Lord of Death falls to his knees. Blood spills from his eyes and nose. His long silver hair clings to the sweat pouring off his shoulders and chest. His vision blurs. The room begins to spin. Again, Mephiston feels himself falling. This time, though, a pair of soft, nimble hands catch him.

"Easy, Meph. Easy. I've got you."

Her tone is gentle. Her voice, as soft as her touch. Her body trembles under his weight. In spite of his hurts, Mephiston pushes himself upright so as not to lean on her anymore. She frames his face with her hands. He can see tears in her eyes. "Gauis!" she shouts. "Fetch an Apothecary."

The librarian called Gauis nods and takes off without another word. Mephiston realises he was the same librarian who'd been shouting warnings at him before.

With Gauis gone, it is only the two of them here, now. It's then that she throws her arms around Mepheston's neck and drags him into a crushing embrace. "You silly, silly man," she whispers. Mephiston realises she is weeping. "Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever."

She squeezes him tighter. The sleeves of her shirt are growing stained with his sweat and blood, but she doesn't seem to care. Though he barely has the strength to raise him arms, Mephiston returns her embrace in earnest. "I am sorry, my sweet." His voice is thick with fatigue and emotion. He hates it when she cries. He hates it even more when he is the cause. "I thought I had it. I have done this so many times before, I-"

"I don't care." Arms still wrapped around his neck, she draws away just enough so as to meet his eye. Her hands find the base of his scalp. Ever so gently, she strokes him there. "The next time Gauis tells you to cut a ritual short," she tells him. "You listen. If not for your own safety, then for my own peace of mind."

Mephiston looks at her. Since his transformation, his hearts have lost much of their capacity for compassion. But what shreds are leftover belong solely to her. Every piece of him that is still human, still a man, loves her as fiercely as they possibly can. All of this, he lets show in his face. It almost moves him to tears. "I will," he says. "I promise."

She smiles at him. It's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen. Ignoring the blood plastering his face, she leans in and kisses Mephiston, so fiercely it makes his jaw ache. Mephiston struggles to return it in kind, almost tipping over backward from the force with which she presses into him. He winces as the room sways again. She catches his head and guides him to the floor. "It's okay, Meph. You're okay." Gently, she lowers herself down beside him. "The Apothecary will be here soon. For now, just rest."

Without thinking, Mephiston reaches for her hand. She takes it in both of hers and squeezes it tight. "Thank you, " he murmurs.

She brushes her lips across his knuckles. "You know you don't need to thank me. Not now, not ever."

[radykalny-feminizm]

Don't you realize that male and female are social constructs? They're ideas. Scientists don't even believe biological sex is a thing anymore, we're all just people. Gender is almost like religion, it can change, some people are really sure on theirs and others aren't, forcing someone into one is always wrong. Do you know why you're cis? Do you ever think about the possibility that you're not, about what it would be like to be something other then what you were born as. Would you still feel like a woman if you didn't have a womb, if you didn't have breasts or genitals or estrogen? It was a combination of contemplating these things, and mystical experiences with the goddess Hel that got me to realize I was agender. I thought I would lose certain things when becoming nonbinary and genderless, but I didn't. I don't know about you, but know you can be happy as an enby or a boy, you can be loved, and cherished and comforted as an enby or as a boy. I don't know if you're nonbinary like I am. You might find you really do identify with womanhood, but if you do really want to be a woman, then know that that's the same feeling amab women have. I know what it's like to think the way you do, I used to think that way, and I've had bad experiences with men and with the expectations society has for people with bodies like mine. But you don't have to take your pain and call it womanhood.

I'm not cis.

I didn't choose to be a woman.

I don't identify as a woman.

I don't feel like a woman.

I simply am a woman.

And being a woman isn't a social construct or an idea.

Being a woman is a biological reality.

I was born with a female body. That's a fact. It's not something I can change.

Saying that scientists don't believe in biological sex is a blatant lie. I can't believe that it needs to be said, but male and female bodies differ not only on the outside. We get affected by different conditions & illnesses. We have different immune systems. We have different pain levels. We have different hormones & health issues related to them. We respond differently to drugs and their dosages. Not to mention our reproductive systems and everything related to them. Our bodies are far away from being just a concept.

Being a woman in itself doesn't make me happy or unhappy. Just like being white & Polish doesn't make me happy or unhappy. Those are just facts about me.

And being a woman doesn't mean that I have to look or act in a specific way. What is womanhood for you if you think that males can identify with it? Is it about wearing dresses and makeup and acting silly? If a man does that then he's a woman? And if a woman doesn't do that then she's not a woman? It's absurd.

If you claimed that one can identify with a specific race by acting & looking in a specific way, everyone would (rightfully) say that it's offensive. Racial stereotypes are not okay, but gender stereotypes are fine & valid? Both sex and race are in the same category of material reality.

Being a woman doesn't determine who I am as a person. Being a woman is not a personality trait, just as race isn't. I don't have to do certain things so I can call myself a woman. There are no certain things one can do in order to "become" a woman.

But being a woman does shape my position in society and it also shapes yours, whether you like it or not. You can identify as whatever you want. It doesn't change the fact that society sees you as a woman. You can't identify out of oppression. You can't stop identifying with pay gap. You can't stop identifying with your reproductive rights being taken away. You can't stop identifying with the fact that women are being raped and killed by men everywhere, everyday. Women in Afghanistan can't stop identifying with the education ban.

Goddess Hel won't help you once men decide to take your rights away. Identifying as agender won't either. Stop being delusional for your own sake before reality slaps you in the face.

[author-main]

Okay, Okay haha. This is the entire wip. It probably won't be expanded on.

--- ... ---

Witness: I have an amazing eye for finding and identifying gemstones. I can tell, even from here, that the defense attorney's studded earrings are real diamonds!

Athena: I didn't know you were the type, Boss.

Phoenix: OBJECTION! That statement immediately calls into question your credibility, Witness. If your talent for identifying gems was really that good, then you'd be able to tell that these aren't diamonds, they're cubic zirconia! 

Witness: N-no! Those are real diamonds!

Judge: Defense, did you buy these earrings yourself?

Phoenix: ? No, Your Honor. My friend gave them to me as a birthday gift over five years ago. They told me they were cubic zirconia.

Judge: Quite the gift to receive from just a friend! And to wear them still after all this time?

Phoenix: Well… these are my birthstones, so I don't see it as a strange gift. Diamonds are, actually, but zirconia’s way cheaper. And of course I'd still wear them! I love these earrings, they're from my greatest friend!

Edgeworth: …

Judge: Well, does the prosecution have anything to say about the witness’s mistake? If he claims to be so good at 

Edgeworth: … Zirconia and Diamond are incredibly similar to each other, Your Honor and the earrings are quite small. A mistake such as that could be made by anyone, no matter how talented they are—

Witness: Hold it! But those are diamonds! They glimmer too brightly! The facets are completely different! Zirconia can not be that clear!!

Edgeworth: Urgh…! (I suppose it would only help my case if the witness's abilities were verified. But it might throw the court into a bedlam.)

Edgeworth: I… Your Honor. I suppose it… would be an easy mistake for someone like you or I to make. But my witness can name clear differences between the two gemstones. I believe we should trust his judgment.

Phoenix: OBJECTION! This friend of mine wouldn't make a mistake like that! The costs for zirconia and diamond are wildly different! And a jewelry store would NOT skimp out on the price of a diamond! He would notice!

Edgeworth: Objection… perhaps… your friend lied to you.

Phoenix: Why?

Edgeworth: Mr. Wright, you come from a poorer upbringing, do you not?

Phoenix: Wow.

Edgeworth: It is safe to assume that this friend of yours believed you wouldn't accept diamonds.

Judge: But if someone was so poor, wouldn't the friend think he'd pawn any jewelry he had off? Especially five years ago? I heard his disbarment was quite hard on Mr. Wright.

Phoenix: I—

Edgeworth: Objection! Your Honor! … As the defense claims, he considers the person who gifted him the earrings to be his “greatest friend”. Anyone who knows Mr. Wright personally would know that he cherishes everything he's given!

Edgeworth: … Or it is evidence in a case.

Judge: I see… but the defense’s point still stands, Mr. Edgeworth. Do you have decisive proof that his friend lied to him about the earrings?

Edgeworth: Objection! I don't see how that has any bearing on the trial today—!

Phoenix: Objection! It's incredibly important, because we need hard proof that what the witness claims is true! Otherwise I call his credibility into question!

Edgeworth: URRGHHH!!! (I just wish he'd let this go and we could talk about this later! But I NEED this testimony to go through! And I'm sure if it doesn't, it'll only help his case.)

Edgeworth: …

Edgeworth: The proof… is in my possession. 

Phoenix: It is?

Athena: It is?

Judge: It is?

Edgeworth: Well, not on my person, but the receipt for the earrings’ purchase… is at my house. They are real, recycled diamond earrings.

Judge: A-and why do you have that receipt?! Were you planning on bringing this friend as a witness?!

Edgeworth: (As sharp as ever, Your Honor…) No. I am the friend who gave them to the defense.

Gallery: *Chatter* *chatter* *chatter*

Judge: Order! Order!

Judge: A-ah! I see! B-but! Wh-why would you—

Edgeworth: As the defense said! Diamonds are his birthstone. But I had a feeling he wouldn't accept it, because of their price. So I led him to believe they were cubic zirconia.

Judge: Th-that's still quite the expensive gift!

Edgeworth: What does it matter?! Zirconia, Diamond, it could be the most expensive royal crown jewels! No gemstone will ever come close to being as brilliant nor as precious as Mr. Wright is to me!

Phoenix: …

Athena: …

Judge: …

Gallery: …

Edgeworth: Wait. Wait!

The courtroom erupts. Phoenix goes beet red. The Judge tries to get everything under control.

Edgeworth: ERGO! My witness is 100% correct when he identifies the defense’s earrings as diamonds. His abilities to identify gemstones stands, and the fact he can tell what they are, despite standing some ten feet away from the bench and the earrings being smaller than a fingertip.

Judge: W-well, uh, err… yes, I believe that. Proves the witness’s credibility. U-unless the defense has something to… add? Where is the defense?

Phoenix is under the table.

Phoenix: Th-the defense needs a minute… to regain the feeling in his knees…

Athena: Uhh! We concede! Please proceed to the testimony!

Despite Edgeworth fighting harder to prove the defendant's guilt, Phoenix still wins the case.

Phoenix: He thinks I'm precious…

A wip that may never see the light of day. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this

[prettyshinnythings]

Resurrection Chapter 2

pairings: Sauron x Reader, Adar x reader

Warnings: This is for readers 18+. This chapter contains mentions of smutty activities. There will be smut in the next part if anyone wants that! Please do not read if you're under 18.

This is my first fic on this blog.

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

My breathing hitched in my throat as I stepped from the outside world and into the tent where Adar kept his prisoner king. Inside the tent, there was barely any light, what little light there was came from a dim lamp beside the support beam keeping the tent from collapsing in on itself. Cautiously, I hold my bag to my body, my fingers gripping the sturdy leather of the bag. It had been my idea to bring something to treat whatever wounds the king sustained in Adar’s interrogation. I knew that he could get quite rough whenever he felt the situation called for it. 

Breathing a deep sigh, I take a step further into the tent, allowing the flaps to close behind me, and making the room darker. 

The prisoner doesn’t say anything as I softly walk along the uneven dirt ground. He does not even bother to acknowledge me until I sit on the stool resting in front of the support beam. I set the bag down before sitting on the stool, my eyes finding the man sitting across from me. He has dark brown locks that fall just past his jaw, and his face is handsome, even with the bruising. He lifts his eyes to meet mine slowly, his stubble-covered jaw lifting up in defiance of the pain that I know he’s in. When he looks at me, an undetectable look flickers in his eyes. A moment of recognition that I could not understand. I had never seen this man before, but there was something about him that felt familiar. Even with a cut on his lips, he still manages to smirk up at me. 

“Well, look at you…”

His gaze intensifies as he looks at me over. The dress Adar had suggested for me to wear fit along my body like a second skin. The dark black fabric made me look like I was a member of a lavish court in a wealthy kingdom. The lower cut of the dress seemed particularly interesting to him. 

“... Adar sent in someone pretty to look at. Tell me, love, are you supposed to get me to talk?”

My eyes move from his handsome face to the chain around his neck. Seeing him like that sent a curious shiver up my spine and I was not entirely sure why. Did I like seeing him in chains? I try to shake the thought from my head and force myself to meet his gaze once again. The look on his face has changed slightly, as if he had read my mind. A dark chuckle escapes him as I attempt to remain focused.

“I simply want to ease your suffering, your Majesty. I know Adar can be quite rough when he feels like he is not getting what he wants.” 

My voice is small, and reserved, as I look at him. I attempt to focus on my breathing whilst I do this. Whoever this man was, I felt this pull that I had never felt before. Like the man from my dream. 

My words bring about new amusement on his handsome face. Again, as if he knew what I’d just thought. 

“Have a lot of experience with Adar’s roughness have you? What exactly is an elf doing with a Uruk who is terrorizing my people? Do you love him?”

I feel my stomach turn at his questions. The latter half sounded almost angry as if I was his lover who had betrayed him by being with Adar. I cannot discern what it is exactly that has upset the king, but I do not bite the bait.

“I simply wanted to help you. If my presence is a problem then I will let the guards continue to do what they do to get answers out of you. Though I would hate to bring any more harm to you, your Majesty.” 

Remaining calm, I reach down for my bag and attempt to stand up from the stool. I knew it had been a bad idea to try and get him to talk. But the second that I stand from my spot, he breathes a pained sigh.

“You do not have to go. Forgive me, I am just curious. You do not have to answer if you do not want to.” 

The smirk remains on his face as he says this. His eyes watched me closely to see if I still decided to go. 

Cautiously, I dare to move closer to the king of the Southlands. I sit beside him, placing my bag on the ground near my feet. I do not speak as I reach into the bag and pull out a cloth and a bottle of gin. Opening the gin I take a swig of it and sigh in contentment as I feel the warmth of the gin cascading down the back of my throat. A welcomed sensation that contrasted with the coldness of the tent. I give the king a small smile as I tilt the bottle in his direction, offering him a sip. Hesitantly, he lets me put the bottle to his lips as I pour the gin down his throat. Once I feel like he’s had a few decent swallows I pull the bottle from his lips. 

We lock eyes for only a moment when I pull the bottle away, his gaze seeming to darken at my closer proximity. I feel my breathing hitch and I have to force myself to look away. Turning my attention to the cloth, I pour a decent amount onto the cloth before daring to speak to him. 

“Can I touch you?”

I whisper, momentarily daring to look at him once more. He swallows hard and nods, unable to speak suddenly. With his permission I lean in, my hand holding the cloth on his bloodied lip. He does not flinch when the alcohol touches his skin and I start to clean the spot as gently as possible. I move the cloth from his lip after a few moments before pulling it away from him, the blood almost completely gone. 

“I am sorry that he has hurt your people, my lord. He does not tell me what he does once he leaves the confines of our shared tent. He thinks I am too weak to handle the truth of what he does. What he has his children do.” 

I pour more gin on the cloth and move it to wash his face, clean his face, and softly exfoliate any potential cuts he may have received. Not once does he look away from me, his gaze calculating as he anticipates what I will do next. 

“Adar saved me when I was a younger elf maiden. My parents were both slain and I was the only survivor. He has taken care of me for a long time. I know our pairing seems odd, but he was the first one to care for me and keep me safe.” 

I pour more gin on the cloth and then turn my attention to his hands, carefully cleaning them. He has strong hands. I wonder what they would feel like around my…

I mentally shake the thought from my head before letting it fully form. His voice cut through the silence that had befallen us once again. 

“You look like someone I knew once. You could be her exact copy…”

He pauses as I finish my work. He waits until I put the lid on the bottle and put it back into my bag with the cloth before speaking. 

“... Would you come closer?” 

He asks the question quietly but it is my willingness to comply that shocks me. Without speaking a single word I stand up and move my body to straddle his. Our eyes locked together as I sat in his lap. I am unsure of why his question compelled me to do this, but here I was. Here, mere inches away from his face. 

His eyes move from mine to my lips, the smirk he had worn earlier slowly creeping back onto his face. 

“Show me your chest and torso.”

My breathing hitches as he says this, my mind in a compliant haze. Without any hesitation I pull my arms out of my sleeves. He licks his lips when I pull the fabric down and reveal full access to my exposed breasts. I feel my heartbeat quicken as he watches me pull the fabric further to show the top of my torso. I had been born with scars along my chest and torso. It looked like I’d been cut deeply by something very sharp. My whole life those marks had marred my skin, to the point where I did not wear certain clothing because the scars were so unappealing to look at. 

He seems deeply transfixed by my scars as his bound hands reach out, stopping before making complete contact with my flesh. 

“Can I touch you?”

He asks as I had only moments before. Without thinking twice I nod, watching him closely. Slowly he uses his fingers to lightly trace over the marks on my torso, his brow furrowed as he does. I could not quite understand what the look on his face meant, but there was a pain etched into his expression like I was some ghost he never thought he would see again. 

“I know…” 

I start breathlessly, my body suddenly on edge. I feel a chill move up my spine and my stomach turns in anticipation of what he will do next. A wetness started to form in between my legs. A dark chuckle brushes past his lips, seeming to note the way my body has changed beneath his touch. 

“... I know they’re ugly to look at. I was born with these markings. My parents used to try and cover them up because they are so unsightly.”

His fingertips are light along my body, so light that I almost feel like I imagined them. My comment causes his brow to furrow as his eyes flick up from the markings to my face. His bound fingers lightly move from the marks on my torso to the one on my chest right above my heart. 

“You’re beautiful. Your birthmarks do not take that away.”

My heart skips when he says this and suddenly I am all too aware of how close his lips are to mine. There is an arrogance that moves across his face when he sees that I have fully taken in our current predicament. 

“What do you know of Sauron your majesty?”

I whisper, his lips ghosting over mine. My eyes flutter shut and he chuckles. I am trying to stay on task now that I realized how much I had quickly played into his hands. I was in his lap with the whole top part of my body exposed to him. This was certainly not what Adar had wanted.

Adar.

“Call me Halbrand.”

He rasps and kisses me deeply, my lips are powerless to deny how good he feels against me. I am quick to return the kiss with as much passion as he offers me. I gasp when his bound hands grasp my breast, his thumbs toying with my hardened nipple. He shudders against me when my hips roll against his. My body is desperate for friction. I can feel myself getting caught up in this heated exchange. I would give myself over to this man without a second thought… well until I thought of Adar once again. This time when I think about him I break the kiss and look at Halbrand. My heart is beating so fast that I am surprised that he cannot see the outline of it thumping in my chest. 

“Halbrand… Please tell me about Sauron.”

I pull my head back to look at him, my body’s desire for him reflected in my face. I wondered what he thought of me at that moment. Did he think I was an easy fuck? Or did he feel it too? This strange connection that I could not understand. A dangerous look pulsates beneath the surface of the smile he gives me. He tilts his head back against the wall and I feel the frustration boiling within me at the smug look that overtakes his face. 

“He is closer than you could ever imagine, Sweetling.” 

My eyes widen at the nickname and instantly I remember being called Sweetling before…

In my dream. 

How could he have known about it? 

“Is this funny to you Halbrand? Do you enjoy being locked in here? If you tell me what you know I can speak with Adar. I could convince him to let you go without you befalling any more harm.” 

At this, he looks at me with a raised eyebrow. He looks me over once again, amused that he has given me nothing but I was here partially naked before him. 

“How will you convince him, hmm? Will you suck his cock and tell him how much you love him? Will you let him fuck your pretty little pussy? Is that what you will do? Meanwhile, Middle Earth is suffering, but I bet that does not matter to you as long as you are his whore.”

When he finishes speaking all of the wind in my lungs feels as if it has left my body. Halbrand looked back at me like I had done something awful to him. As if I had betrayed him in some personal way. I cannot stop the tears that form in my eyes at his words. Instead, I get up off of his lap and pull my dress back up over my exposed chest, concealing myself once more. I refuse to look at him as I bend down to pick up the bag, but when I do his hands grasp my arm. I want to pull out of his grasp but find that I cannot. I am too overcome with emotion to push him away. No one had ever said those words to me before. Sure, I knew what the uruks thought of my relationship with Adar. Some loved me, others did not. I knew what people thought of me when they found me standing at Adar’s side. But no one had ever voiced those feelings out loud. 

“Halbrand.”

I whimper, forcing myself to look over at him. The tears in my eyes have softened his expression as he watched me cautiously. 

“What is your name, Sweetling.”

He asks, his tone careful. 

“(Y/n).”

I feel like a child who has been scolded when I speak to him as if I was in trouble. 

“(Y/n), Sauron has taken a new form. I know not where he resides, only that he does not look the same as Adar remembers.”

The information he provides does not have a moment to sink in before Adar’s voice sounds from behind me. 

“Halbrand, do not touch (y/n). She is mine.”

My blood seems to freeze when Adar calls me his. Suddenly, it did not feel as comforting as it had this morning when I had awoken in his bed. Halbrand does let go of my arm and when he does I reach down to grab my bag before walking over to Adar’s side. He peers down at me with an unreadable expression. Almost as if he knew that I had gone too far. As if he felt the shift that had happened the moment Halbrand’s lips were on mine. He pulls me in against him, his hands on my waist. Adar’s lips find the side of my face, but there is no comfort that I feel from the action. 

“She was someone else’s at one point was she not lord father? Or at least someone whose likeness she shares. But you knew that already didn’t you?”

Halbrand’s voice breaks through the uncomfortable tension that had manifested in the room. At this statement, I peer up at Adar in confusion. What could Halbrand have meant? I take a few steps back from Adar, my eyes wide as I look at him. A deep sigh escaped my lover before he glanced past me to Halbrand. 

“During the first age, Sauron had a messenger who became his mistress. The name Morgoth gave her was Thuringwethil. But she was known amongst the uruks who served Sauron as a different name. (Y/n), was the one he loved more than anything. He would have done anything for her, but on the night of his coronation, something terrible happened. He had sent her to take one final message and during that journey, she was killed when she came across the hound of Valinor. Sauron never learned of her passing because I killed him before he was able to learn the fate of his mistress…”

I feel my skin crawl at his words. Not because I was disturbed by them, but because they felt familiar to me. As if my body could recall every memory he recounted. Adar’s gaze finds mine, his lips pulled into a tight line. 

“...When I found you I was shocked by how much you looked like Thuringwethil. Every single part of you is her perfect likeness, apart from the fact that you are an elf. You have her face, her hair, her body, and those same scars that Morgoth had etched into Thuringwethil. When I found you I knew that I had to have you. That having you was the perfect revenge against Sauron and what he put my children through. If Thuringwethil was his true love in his past life then I wanted to make sure that, he would never have her again.”

When he finishes speaking, he takes a step forward, his hand outstretched to take mine in his. I am in shock by everything he has just said, so much so that I just stare at him. My body is unmoving as if I had turned into a statue. Everything I had known to be true had been flipped on its head. Every piece of my relationship with Adar seemed to pass through my mind like a demented illusion. And worst of all, it hurt because I had believed that Adar had loved me for me. Not because I looked like someone he had known. Not because of his anger with Sauron.

“How do you even know that I am her? What if I just look like her?”

I ask in quiet desperation, pleading for some sort of explainable reasoning. Adar gives my hand a squeeze and nods.

“Sometimes, when you dream you say his name. His true name that not many know. You said it this morning when you woke up. I do not believe that is a coincidence.”

My brow furrows as I think back to the name of the man from my dream and I feel my heart stop. Cautiously, I look up at Adar before mumbling feebly. 

“Marion.”

[soni-dragon]

Eye of the Pheonix is actually one of the best merlin episodes because:

merlin and Gwen besties shenanigans; “what’s he actually thinking about” “you”

cold open to the most tender merthur scene

Merlin sleeping outside all knight for arthur

Hiccuping scene and arthur getting so annoyed

“But the perilous lands are… perilous”

“The task is meant to be completed alone and unaided” the start of the best continuing joke of all time

Putting the rest under a cut cause it’s long

Little morgwen moment in the market i love (one of the last we get….)

Cute arthur and gwen scene! Hehe

This is just the shipping episode of all time everyone wins

“You’ll need help” and the first thing merlin does is go find gwaine

smiles “hello, gwaine” “ah, merlin :)”

Immediately puts an arm around merlin

Throws merlin off a roof. this is what merwaine is all about :)

Gwaine is still Gwaine and not whatever the writers did to him after becoming a knight

Bridge guy (Grettir) is great and Arthur’s “no I’m prince arthur of camelot” i love you you’re so dense sometimes

“You need strength and magic” and then gwaine and merlin come along and NO ONE seems to think two seconds more about the implications

“ive been to almost every tavern” “so have i” you’re telling me merlin spent all that time looking for specifically gwaine to help him when he knows arthur is in danger

ANOTHER MORGWEN SCENE (ik morgana just wants her to leave) but we weren’t completely robbed

Arthur not realizing that he feels like shit and thinking hmm that’s weird, this is THE dense, damsel in distress arthur episode

Gwaine is two feet away are you really telling me he didn’t hear bridge guy call merlin Magic

“Strength has arrived the trio is complete” immeidate sword draw

But also the establishment of them as a trio i really love and they never did anything else with it

Gwaine with the flowers :))

THE ENTIREY OF THE FIRE SCENE

*THE* MERWAINE SCENE EVER

“a pheasant” gwaine please

“Why do you want to do this?” cause he’s in love with you merlin

“Same reason as you” (hesitates) (eye contact) “help a friend”

“arthurs lucky to have us”

…

“not arthur” SCREAMING

we’re back to the fond looks

gwaines tiny nod of assurance when merlin looks at him like ??! after he says not arthur

“youre the only friend i have” and i couldnt bear to lose you

Gwen finding out morgana has magic

“she’s changed” break my heart why don’t you (i dont want you to change) BRING HER BACKKK this is making me miss the arc morgana could have had so badly

They caught up to arthur SO FAST goes to show how arthurs going through it

Not wyvern they have four legs actually (tho their designs are cool)

This would have been such a good episode for gwaine to learn merlin is a dragonlord & has magic

Arthur conveniently is knocked out (as always) when merlin does cool magic stuff to save him

When merlin orders them to go and they bow their heads and walk away they look like kicked puppies

The famous arthur waking up to merlins silly little smile and being 100% not appreciative

whatthehellareYOUdoinghere? why can’t you ever just say thanks? augh THANKS!whatforcompLeTlYrUiNiNgThEqUeSt?!

i am supposed to be doing this ALONEEEE

“Are gwen and morgana here too? we going to have a surprise party?” i love you sassy arthur and yes you absolutely should have a surprise party

Do you want us to help you or do you want to do this ~aloneeee~

MERLIN!

The little smile and nod like yeah they got him

“this is a quest merlin not a treasure hunt” well it is sort of- “MERLIN.”

How is that one stone completely sound proof

The cockroaches are icky but y’all have gloves its not that bad you couldn’t even feel them

Set up with the water of avalon and something that actually follows into later episodes

“Merlin.” + arthur doesn’t want to show he actually cares about him vs. gwaine pulling him into a hug

“look what i found” merlin and gwaine shared looks of no you didn’t

The trios conversation at the end i love their dynamics + merlins pause and genuine thanks

Eoin macken looking pretty <33 (he always does)

Merlins little overview of the quest hes so excited awww

Immediate shift to sassy merlin the Duality

I wish Gwen knowing about morgana’s magic would have been explored more i want to see her join gaius and merlin in plotting and going on little quests

Anyways yeah to conclude i miss Gwaine sm :(

[silverynight]

Tempting

Viktor gets startled when he hears rushed footsteps in the hallway, he doesn't even have the opportunity to turn around before someone runs inside and puts his broad arms around him. There's only one person who likes to do that, so Viktor relaxes immediately.

"I thought you were going to be back next month."

"I missed you, Viktor," Jayce whispers in his ear, instead of answering the question.

He tries to turn around on his seat to face him, but his partner refuses to let go of him.

"Jayce, let me see you." Viktor has learned that he responds better to words. Even thought he's not used to tell or ask people what he wants from them, this is the only thing that seems to work with his friend.

Jayce finally steps back, albeit reluctantly, so Viktor can turn around and see him. It looks like he came straight to the lab as soon as the ship arrived because he's tired, hungry, hasn't rested properly in days and it's written all over his face.

But there's something different about him. Before he can think about what he's going to do, Viktor's hands cup Jayce's face; he starts stroking the other man's beard with his thumbs. He's not sure why, but he finds the sensation pleasant and soothing.

It doesn't occur to him that what he's doing might be weird until he notices that Jayce is slightly bent towards him, but completely still. He looks like he's in shock.

"You're touching me," he blurts out, still surprised.

"I am," Viktor says back, realizing just then that he had never initiated physical contact with Jayce, in fact, he has never touched him on his own before. "I'm sorry."

Before he can take his hands off his friend's face, the other man grabs them and presses them a bit harder against his cheeks.

"No, it's fine!" Jayce assures him, looking a bit desperate for a moment. "You can touch me as much as you want."

"Thank you, but we can't stay like this all day."

"Why not?"

Viktor chuckles at that, noticing that he's in a good mood now; he was feeling down last week and he's beginning to think it was because Jayce wasn't at his side.

"I have a lot of things I need to show you," he says instead, trying not to smile when he notices Jayce's pout.

"So you like it?"

"What?"

"The beard."

"Yes, I think you look good with it," he says absentmindedly, turning around to check his notes again.

It never occurs to him, even as a few days pass, that Jayce's choice of keeping the beard might have something to do with him.

Because it doesn't make sense.

But he does notice that he touches Jayce often now, especially when he leans over Viktor's shoulder to comment on something they're working on, and his face is right next to his. It's really easy to lift his hand and place it on his cheek and stroke his chin just to feel the facial hair there so Viktor does that; it quickly turns into a habit that he does without thinking.

Jayce doesn't seem to mind, in fact, he looks a lot pleased with himself now. Viktor is not sure why he's so smug about something like that.

However, after a while, Jayce starts getting strange ideas.

"You should kiss me."

Viktor drops the screwdriver in his hand before turning around to face his friend.

"What?"

"To feel this against your face," Jayce says, pointing at his beard. "Aren't you curious?"

"I wasn't..." But now he is, unfortunately. "I don't see why kissing you would be the best way to try that."

"It is, trust me," Jayce assures him, leaning dangerously close to him.

Even though the mere thought of his partner being attracted to him is ridiculous, the excuse he just used is so stupid that Viktor has no other choice but to consider the first option.

It's a difficult choice; this will probably change everything between them, and they have to keep working together.

But Viktor's rational inner voice is not that loud that particular night; the temptation to feel Jayce's face against his is stronger than anything else.

Without a warning, Viktor gives him a quick kiss on the lips, the rough sensation of the beard against his smooth skin makes him giggle.

"Well, that was–"

"Not enough," Jayce cuts him off before pulling him into his arms to give him a proper kiss.

The idea of Jayce liking him makes so much sense now that Viktor can feel his partner's hungry lips moving against his.

But he's not going to complain about that.

At some point, they have to breathe, but Jayce decides to press more kisses against his jaw and neck. The beard rubbing on his skin sends shivers down his spine each time.

"Let's go to my room," he almost growls, desperate. "Come on, Viktor."

"Wait... we should think about this first. We have a project together."

"It's okay, Viktor," Jayce cups his face before pressing their foreheads together. "We can be life partners too. We'll make it work. Trust me."

Viktor does. He has always trusted him.

"Alright. Let's give this life partnership a try."

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Because some of you are far faster than I anticipated....

Here are the first few pages of next chapter/scrapped pages of the last chapter

WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE READ CHAPTER 37. I AM SERIOUS >:(

ETA: I did add a little extra onto the snippet as a 'sorry' for some of you ToT

She nodded and silently listened as the star gestured to the surrounding glowing trees. “When the order had been finally established, a primordial star decided to give up her spot in the sky, opting instead to stay on earth to guide the order and firmly cement its placement as the bridge between our worlds. It was a move that impressed the other stars, and to show their support for the newly found order, they made the Asterius that you saw in the market. One created and cultivated from the power of each court to symbolize its unity within the order.”

“Was there any particular reason why they chose a tree of all things as a symbol?” she asked, as she stared at the glowing trees, gently swaying in the night breeze.

“Yeah…but what’s with your tone? Trees are cool!” he frowned, almost sounding offended.

“They’re alright…but I mean why do stars take such interest in them if they’re practically everywhere? Surely you guys must have cooler things than just…trees!”

“We do but…Have you ever noticed that no matter how far into the heavens a tree can ascend it must always stay rooted to the earth to survive? It never forgets its origins, no matter how far or great it grows…” he smiled thoughtfully as his foot scuffed against the ground. “Isn’t that something?”

Asha slowly nodded, and turned her eyes upwards “Hmm I guess it does sound a bit more…fascinating when you describe it like that…but why do yours glow?”

The star hummed thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin, “Well, the short scientific and aesthetic answer would be bioluminescence to attract nocturnal pollinators. Plus you can always appreciate their beauty no matter what time of day. It makes the forests nicer, doesn’t it?”

She nodded in agreement, “It does. But what’s the long answer?”

“Well,” he started as he straightened himself. “I don’t know the details exactly but I think it’s also because of their connection to some greater network of energy both with each other and the world around them. One of my nannies would always tell me about it when I was little and couldn’t stop climbing them but it’s pretty convoluted if I’m being honest.”

“A network of energy…” she whispered as her eyes trailed the trees’ glowing roots. “Like your energy?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged before thoughtfully staring at the sky. “I mean they sort of come from our world…so I guess it only makes sense that they would act like that…”

“You know before you told me all of this, I never would’ve thought that something as simple as a tree could hold so much meaning in the grand scheme of things,” she confessed. “Sure there was the wishing tree, but that felt more like a relic than anything else…not some political  cosmic display of diplomacy…”

“You’d be surprised…there’s a reason why most Asterius made today are no longer created by all four courts…”

“They aren’t?” she asked, a bit taken aback as the star shook his head.

“No not anymore, not since Deneb’s asterius came into the picture…”

“Deneb has an asterius?”

“Most members of the royal star families and high-ranking nobles do…but few have a tree as controversial as hers….” he hesitated as if mentally debating over something before he eventually nodded and turned to her. “Asha” he stated suddenly as she straightened herself in sudden preparation. “You remember how when we were in the forest you told me that you knew that the crimson court hated Deneb because of your father’s writings, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, trying not to shift uncomfortably. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she could hear the king’s voice whispering to her. She couldn’t make out what he was saying but she was too afraid to find out.

“Did your father ever state why?” The star asked, thankfully silencing the king’s muffled voice as she shook her head. 

“No…his master had been vague about the situation…but from what I could tell, it seemed as if the bad blood between the two parties was a little more extensive than just the courts…it seemed like it involved the council too…”

“It did,” Cepheus carefully nodded. “But did he say anything else?”

“Well…he theorized that it was the result of some act of defiance she did a few years ago that involved her children…you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I do,” he confessed. “I don’t know if you’ll like the story but I suppose for you to understand anything I’ll need to give you a few details…”

He gestured for her to follow as they slowly began to near the forest. “I’m not sure if I’ve told you this explicitly,” he started as the glowing trees and shrubbery began to surround them.   “but the crimson court and cerulean court have always had a mutual hatred of each other. They’ve led countless wars and battles against each other long before the order,  Deneb, and her children ever entered the picture.”

“Why?” She asked as she ducked beneath a low-hanging branch. “Was it differing philosophies? Scandalous love?” She asked the star who’d somehow managed to put a rather large walking distance between them. “Cultural differences? Why did they hate each other?”

He paused as if listening out for something before she finally made her way to his side, “Differing philosophies and a bloodthirsty competitiveness to conquer the galaxies,” the star frowned and abruptly looked away. Had…had he been ashamed of his court’s past? She wondered before he quietly continued, “Nevertheless it all seemed to come to a head when during one of these battles…the council, being as senile as they were, had grown both tired and indifferent to the constant fighting. So they decided to exercise their powers to ensure peace would prevail, one that, unlike their past attempts, could not be so easily dismissed…” The star sighed, slowly moving his hand as the air around his fingers began to glow a soft misty blue.

Slowly the world around them began to ripple, and blur.

She blinked, trying to rub the uneasiness from her eyes as her surroundings slowly began to come into focus as she looked around. They were still in a forest, that much she could be sure of as the familiar sight of large, thick glowing forestry greeted her.

But where the distant town of Banquo had once stood was gone, and in its place was a seemingly endless glowing body of water. 

Were they…at the beach? No this couldn’t have been the beach, at least not one she’d been familiar with. Her eyes traced along the light blue shoreline as she took one hesitant step forward before rubbing her eyes in disbelief.

The beach was glowing. Real beaches didn’t glow. But the feel of the calm sea breeze passing through her braids had nearly convinced her otherwise.

“Wait…” she started, looking around. “Is this another illusion like what you did with the scrolls?”

“Something of the sort,” the star smiled as he spoke from behind her. “Are you enjoying the view?”

She nodded, before looking around again, “Yeah! It’s…beautiful -,” her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of the star who’s skin was now a beautiful shade of cyan, while his hair was nearly white. 

Was this what a blue star looked like? She wondered, as she looked him over and over again.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring, but it was enough to earn herself an all too knowing grin as the star arrogantly extended a sapphire colored wing. “I was talking about the sea, but if you think I’m beautiful as well, and wish to stare,” he chuckled as another wing revealed itself. “then by all means, my dear-,” 

“What?!” She scoffed, before waving her hands dismissively as she looked away. Thank God her blushes weren’t visible. “Ha! No! No way! I was talking about the beach! Not you! It’s the beach that’s beautiful, see?! You’re just…blue!” 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed teasingly as his now gray colored iris seemed bright with laughter. “Well either way I hope you enjoy either view you choose to partake in….although I must admit asha…. That the sea, is unfortunately not located where your eyes are currently focused.” 

“I know that!” She snapped and sharply turned to face the body of water, hoping to enjoy any semblance of peace that she could get.

[florawrites-blog]

The shift - Sim Jaeyun

Its thanksgiving but here you are stuck in a 24/7 shift with jake a guy whom you could swear you had no idea he worked in the same grocery shop you work in but lets go i guess .

I lowkey yapped here but enjoy lads

Thanksgiving night at Jerry’s All-Night Groceries wasn’t supposed to be exciting. It was supposed to be the dull kind of shift where you rang up frozen turkeys, boxed mashed potatoes, and watched sleep-deprived shoppers scuffle for canned cranberry sauce. But the moment you stepped inside the store and saw your supervisor, Jerry, glaring at his nemesis Martha like she’d stolen his parking spot, you knew this night would be different.

“Congratulations, you lucky ducks,” Jerry barked, gesturing to you and some guy you’d never seen before. “You two are hosting tonight’s 24-hour shift!”

Martha smirked. “Try not to cry about it, kiddos.”

The guy—tall, brown hair slightly tousled, an aura of “I’m too cool for this”—stood next to you with the same amount of confusion. You exchanged a glance, one that said Can you believe this garbage? Then, without much protest (because arguing with Jerry and Martha was like yelling at a brick wall), you accepted your fate.

For the first couple of hours, it was painfully mundane. The cashier beeped endlessly as shoppers stockpiled boxed meals and vaguely Thanksgiving-related knickknacks. You were zoning out, staring at a stack of pumpkin pies, when the guy spoke.

“So, you didn’t even know I worked here?” His voice was teasing, light, and caught you off guard.

You snorted. “I didn’t even know you existed until now.”

“Figures,” he replied with a smirk. “But I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, what? When?”

He chuckled darkly. “The day you flipped me off and called me a ‘vision-impaired asshole.’”

Your jaw dropped. “WHAT?! That’s a lie! I would never—” Then, like a lightning bolt, it hit you: Oh my god, I DID do that.

“Wait, no, no! You were staring at me for like 20 minutes straight! Of course, I thought you were some creepy weirdo!”

“I am that ‘creepy weirdo,’” he confirmed, ringing up a turkey for a confused customer. “But to be fair, you ignored me after I asked you a question. For 20 minutes.”

The customer looked between the two of you, clearly regretting every life choice that had led them here. You waved it off. “Okay, in my defense, I didn’t hear you ask anything, so yeah, you were creepy!”

From there, the ice was broken. Somehow, amidst the holiday chaos, you and Jake—the guy you didn’t even know worked here—were swapping sarcastic barbs like old friends.

In the phone section, Jake was snapping selfies like his life depended on it.

“Dude, you know we’re not supposed to do that, right?”

He shrugged, moving on to the next display. “So what? If customers can do it, why can’t I? Racist, don’t you think?”

“What does race have to do with this?” you groaned, watching as he switched from Androids to iPads.

“Whatever. Anyway, I look good. Imagine someone opens the camera roll and finds my face. They’ll fall in love instantly.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, heartthrob. Let’s hope that’s the legacy you leave behind.”

Jake smirked. “Speaking of heartthrobs… let me guess. You were the teacher’s pet in high school, the kind of nerd who snitched on jocks for smoking in the bathroom.”

“Wow, rude AND oddly specific,” you shot back. “And no, I wasn’t a snitch! I just… knew things. And okay, maybe teachers liked me. But only because I wasn’t annoying like some people.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Jake wasn’t done being ridiculous. He led you to the bike section with a mischievous grin.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, dragging you to a shiny red bike. “You’re learning how to ride.”

“I know how to ride a bike!”

“you quite literally mentioned how bad you are at riding bikes”

“yeah i said I’m bad didn’t say I can’t ride a bike”

“Can you ride a bike without training wheels and streamers?”

“…I hate you.”

Despite your protests, Jake was determined. He adjusted the seat, held the handlebars, and made sure you were balanced. His hands hovered at your waist as you wobbled.

“See? You’re doing fine!”

And then… crash.

You went down, dragging a row of bikes with you. From the security room, Andy the security guard was laughing his balls of knowing he caused this incident by playing “Careless Whisper” on the PA, after seeing how close you and Jake were getting as he taught you how to ride that bike . Jake, however, didn’t laugh. He immediately scooped you up, piggyback-style, and carried you to the first aid aisle.

“You LOSER YOU SAID YOU’D HOLD ME AND NOT MAKING ME FALL,” you muttered loudly as he patched you up.

“Sorry I’m so so sorry , but hey you rode a bike,” he replied with a grin.

The rest of the night blurred into something magical. You shared snacks in the camping aisle, played with Bluetooth speakers, and even danced a little when the store was empty. Jake told scary stories (badly), and you made bets on which customer would complain about prices first.

you also grew this weird yet undeniable tension between you guys that made it hard for both of you to face each other

But as the shift neared its end, Jake grew quieter.

“This is my last shift,” he said suddenly.

You froze. “What? Why?”

“I’m leaving town. Taking a train, starting over in a new city with some friends. We’re gonna try to start a band.”

Your heart sank. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. But you should come with me.”

You laughed, but there was a lump in your throat. “You’re crazy, Jake.”

“Maybe. But think about it.”

you’ve spent few hours speaking about this he even discussed some of his “runaway” plans , and even after sometime passed Jake kept on bringing back the idea of you coming with him which is funny cause why’d he assume you have nothing to do here (you literally didn’t you only took this job to kill time while you had a job search) but it just happened so that it annoys you how he thinks that you have nothing to do here also it’s not like you guys were long time friends or anything so why’d he just ask you to accompany him right?

When the shift ended, Jake walked you to the entrance.

“So… I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry I won’t forget you when I’m famous,” he teased.

“Who are you again?” you shot back, smiling through the ache in your chest. All jokes aside you guys knew you were seriously at the end of the shift when Jerry and Martha both came in looking at you like the first thing they had a whiff of was fart.

As he walked away, you felt tugging at your chest like you knew you didn’t know him for long but cmon how come you see him today for what’s technically not the first time and now you have to say goodbye to him I mean it should be easy but it wasn’t .

But it wasn’t your case only cause as he got close to his car something pulled at him. He turned back, ran to you, and both of you now stood infront of each other his eyes went over your whole figure and just by then out of nowhere he hugged you tight.

“Can’t leave without a goodbye hug, can I?”

“bye bye, jakey jakey”

And just like that, it was goodbye he was actually gone, pedaling into the early morning.

You stood there for a moment, staring after him. Somewhere, Jake was probably cursing himself.

“Shit. I didn’t get her number.”

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Re-skimmed through a bunch of Dune Messiah last night because why not and now I am having thoughts:

The thing that sticks with me most is the tone. It's melancholy, it's eerie, it's unsettled and weird. Cannot think of a more pitch-perfect director for it than Denis Villeneuve. He's gonna nail it.

There is...not that much...actual story? Denis has referred to it in interviews as "a small book" and I'm like my guy it is 350 pages. But there are actually not that many plot beats. It's just that every. single. scene. is WILDLY overwritten. The real challenge of adapting Dune is not the giant worms or the dense complicated worldbuilding or the fact that actors have to say the name "Duncan Idaho" repeatedly with a straight face. It's that there are pages and pages and PAGES of internal monologue that have to be externalized somehow for film.

After a re-skim my gut instinct for "how much story goes in a feature film" is that if you just wrote out the dialogue and action that happens in every scene in the book in screenplay format you'd end up with...maybe about an hour of material? Which is great, actually, because it means there is room to add stuff. Like a whole new independent plotline for Chani if they decide to do that.

It may seem insane to add things to an adaptation of what's notoriously one of the wordiest series in classic sci-fi but it's worth remembering that they added quite a bit to Dune Part Two. Most of the first hour of the movie--almost everything before the worm ride except for Jessica drinking the Water of Life--is stuff that isn't in the book. And it's the best part of the movie essential to making the movie work as well as it does. Yes, they also cut elements from both parts (the dinner scene, the whole plotline where Gurney thinks Jessica is a Harkonnen spy, Thufir Hawat's fate, Leto II the Elder, murder toddler Alia) but I understand why each of those elements was cut or changed in the service of cinematic storytelling.

There's an interview (can't remember which one) with Jon Spaihts, the other co-writer of the scripts along with Denis, where he talks about how Dune is like a stage play, with so many of what would be the big action set pieces happening off-page. I kept thinking about that comparison while reviewing Dune Messiah because in addition to the scenes that do exist being wordy and internal as fuck, an absolutely insane list of major events/reveals/emotionally significant moments happen off-page. The list of things that we don't actually see in the main action of the story, that we're only told about after they happen, includes:

Chani finding out Irulan has been secretly dosing her with birth control for YEARS

People trying to capture a sandworm and take it off planet

Chani and Paul finding out Chani is pregnant after 12 years of trying to conceive

Paul flying an ornithopter carrying his extremely-about-to-go-into-labor partner while blind

CHANI DYING (first time reading I did NOT know this was coming and damn near threw my Kindle across the room at the way the information was delivered)

Alia executing a bunch of people including a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother

Paul walking into the desert at the end

You could add all these moments into a scene-for-scene film adaptation of the book and probably still have room to add more material.

The other thing that jumps out is that Paul doesn't really...govern...much. Like there's this whole subgenre of post-Dune/Dune Messiah-era fic that's just some combination of Paul, Chani, Irulan and sometimes Feyd traipsing around the palace having feelings while vague politics happens in the background, but I forgot that Dune Messiah is actually kinda like that??

There is a whole thread of Paul feeling kind of abstractly bad about being Space Hitler but he does not, in fact, actually do anything about it. And like yes both bureaucracies and religious movements can grow to have a life of their own that seems beyond the control of any one person. But also my dude you are the Emperor of the Known Universe. Someone is signing those space checks for the Endless War budget. You are not powerless here.

The one thing that really, clearly drives Paul to actively do things in the plot is not feeling guilty about having unleashed catastrophic religious war on the universe. It is protecting his family. Chani, Alia, his unborn children, and you could probably throw in Duncan by the end. That is what motivates him to act at key moments, and to want to hold on to power. And hey, y'know, if I'd experienced almost everyone I'd ever known getting murdered in a single night, I would probably get a bit intense about that too! It makes sense from a character point of view!

I'm very curious to see how these threads interweave with each other in the film, because the Villeneuve films put a lot of emphasis on Paul's agency and the fact that he may be constrained by shitty circumstances thousands of years in the making, but he still makes choices within that context. I can't see the narrative allowing film!Paul to get away with the same Poor Little Dictator routine as in the book. There are a few ways they could play this but I think the most interesting one is kinda the way they started going at the end of Part Two. Which is that as soon as you start reaching for that kind of power, then power becomes its own end and you will end up doing increasingly horrific things to maintain it. I think it would be quite interesting if the film shows us Paul not just being like "woe is me" but actively choosing to make the world worse because his trauma-driven fear of losing the people he loves makes him cling ever more desperately to power for its own sake.

If they went this route I think it would make Paul's decision at the end hit even harder. FWIW I actually really like Paul walking off into the desert at the end of the book. I think it brings things full circle with his relationship to the Fremen and creates this beautiful arc going back to the duel with Jamis. He first won a place among the Fremen through respecting their customs even though he really did not want to fight and kill someone he had no beef with. And by respecting the Fremen custom of the blind walking off into the desert, he proves himself to be fully Fremen and protects his children not by making them heirs to the throne but by making them Fremen.

And yeah, to a modern audience here on Earth it can look like "Paul conveniently fucks off and doesn't have to raise his newly-motherless children." And we can have a whole discussion about the unexamined ableism of the idea of someone who's gone blind voluntarily choosing death so as to "not be a burden" on their community. But neither of those readings is really the point here. Within the logic of Fremen cultural values, where the survival of the group as a whole is more important than the life of any one individual ("your water belongs to the tribe" etc.) Paul's choice is a willing and intentional self-sacrifice (see also: fedaykin) that wins him huge respect. There's a line in the book about Paul that's like "He would be one of them forever now" and damn if that didn't give me shivers. Like!! The political-symbolic implications!!! Which maybe I'm particularly attuned to because I just wrote a whole fic about what does it mean for an outsider to become Fremen but hmm something something Paul's final* act not being an exercise of Imperial power but an expression of kinship with an oppressed group and that being the thing that's needed to keep his family safe even if he is not physically present with them...IT IS RICH SYMBOLIC TERRITORY.

(*Yes yes I know about events in the next book. Shush.)

This kind of stuff is why I tend to think Chani may start out in a very different place in the story but the end will still be pretty close to what's in the book. It's too thematically powerful and tragic to go any other way.

But also...if they change things around enough that she is still alive at the end of the movie...I won't be sad about it.

[ghouljams]

how does one become free of insecurity? i’m already doing therapy but i feel i’ve only moved away from hating myself so much i want to d*e into just thinking everyone’s better than me

It's a long journey, but well worth it.

I don't think anyone is ever truly free of insecurity, but I think there's also a lot that is unpacked simply through the language we use to describe ourselves and the jokes we allow other people to make at our expense.

Therapy is great at helping you deal with the big feelings, but sometimes little things get caught in your head and it's hard to shake them. Here are some things that I do to keep myself feeling good, and also some things that I'm working on:

No suicide jokes. I make it a point never to joke about "oh I'll just kill myself" or anything like that because ultimately it just makes me feel worse and nobody finds it funny. It's also a good way to change your thinking and direct your solution brain away from "I'll just end things when shit gets hard." This one is a constant battle.

I compliment myself whenever I have the chance. I take every compliment someone gives me. I pretend to be vapid and self-absorbed. I make kissy faces at myself in the mirror. I tell other people how pretty I am, and I don't fucking care if they think I'm a stupid bimbo because I'm trying to love myself and that's more important.

Being kinder to my younger self. This one feels weird but I found myself being mean to little Ghoul when I was really sad. It feels easy to take out your anger on a kid that didn't know any better, and it doesn't guilt you because that's you that you're hating. But look. You were just a kid. You weren't stupid or ugly or unlovable or evil, you were a kid. I just caught myself calling my teenage self ugly the other day on my way to visit my mom and I had to stop and go "why am I saying this? I was just a kid." And it made me cry a li'l bit ngl, but if felt... idk it felt good in a way.

Don't let fucking anyone tell you, you're not worth it. Does your friend make jokes about how dumb you are? Or how you're so cringey? Or so embarrassing or bad at something or forgetful or WHATEVER? Yeah, fuck that noise. Tell them to stop doing that. Tell them it hurts your feelings and if they still don't stop they aren't your friend, they're your bully. I fucking hate bullies. Don't let anyone talk down to you, I don't care if it was a joke at first, it's not funny anymore. Fuck them.

This is something I'm working on, but when you start fixing one insecurity another will probably pop up. I've been working for a long time on liking how I look, and it's gone really well. But now I'm insecure about my intelligence. So I have to stop myself from calling myself stupid or not answering questions. I just fucking rocked my work trivia party, and Mr. Ghoul thinks I'm smart, so I just gotta keep track of my wins. Sometimes you realize that making yourself secure in one thing makes you insecure about another, but that's ok! There's a learning curve to all of this.

Everyone thinks everyone else is better than them. You don't have to be the best at everything, you don't even have to be the best at one thing! What's important is that you're doing your best. People notice when you're working hard, even if you're not churning out the best product because it means you care about it. Which brings me to

Done is better than perfect. Sure it would be great if you were God's most specialist soldier, but think about how much work that would be! Ok so you're not the world's best knitter, but the scarf you made your friend is their favorite scarf anyway because you made it. So you're not a world class writer, but you had a story in your head and you wrote it down. That's better than it never being written at all. Also just because you think it's bad doesn't mean other people won't think it's a masterpiece. Hell, half of the fics I wrote when I first started this blog I could write better now but that doesn't make them bad, it just means I've gotten better.

We as humans are constantly improving and evolving. Don't let who you are no stop you from striving towards who you'll be in the future. Taking one step down the path towards loving yourself is better than giving up and hating yourself forever. It's slow going, but man I've been doing this shit for a decade and I'm so much happier than I was at 18.

You might think that the more you improve the harder and faller you'll fall back to the bottom, but the lows don't get that low again. You're doing great. I'm proud of you.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Offers Silk Flowers & Osmanthus Tea

Zhongli falling in love deeply with a Human Mortal and has a crisis about it

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / reader is a mortal / reader is implied to be attracted to Zhongli but not necessarily in love with him / he gets yandere thoughts but doesn't take it anywhere because as a 6000 year old god, he can control himself / so he has a crisis over his feelings and friend-zones himself instead

It's hard to imagine Zhongli having a crisis about anything. He's lived so long that centuries worth of memories are compressed into decades relative to the entirety of his life. A mortal's life will flicker by as quickly as a firefly's brief glow, short-lived but breathtaking. He has witnessed the lives of countless, their meetings, their partings, their laughter, and their tears. Just as he sits in the audience of an opera, captivated by what is happening on the stage, he's always been the bystander. That had always been the case until he met you. With you, he's been finding it increasingly difficult to keep himself seated. You tested his patience and tempted his impulses. Before he could withdraw, you had reached out and dragged him onto the stage with you. How could you twirl around him so carefree, so ignorant to his growing dilemma?

"Is there something on my face?" You paused in your chatter, catching him staring at you mid-conversation.

"No." Zhongli replied, smiling softly at you like he always does.

He just couldn't help but notice how your eyes glimmered when you spoke about things that you were passionate about. The sound of your voice, the tremble from the excitement bubbling inside of you, as well as your slight breathlessness as you spoke in a frenzy of words, it tickled something deep inside of him. He could listen to you speak all day, so there was no need to get it all out in one sitting. It wasn't like he would suddenly get up and leave if you took up too much of his time. All he could do was furrow his brow because he couldn't bear to interrupt you.

"Why the frown then?" You paused again to ask. His intense gaze was causing you to become self-conscious.

Because you're frustrating, he wanted to say.

Zhongli raised his fist to lips and cleared his throat, hoping you'd catch the hint. You didn't, instead reaching for the teapot to refill his cup.

"Drink some tea, dear. Your throat is the one in dire need of moisture."

You flushed. "Now that you remind me, I am a bit thirsty."

"There is no need to rush. I have more than enough time to hear all that you have to say." He reassures you.

Everything about you was endearing to a painful degree. The way you talked, the way you laughed, even the way you're currently gulping down your tea could land him in an abrupt daze and have his heart beating at a slightly faster pace.

He constantly found himself occupied by thoughts of you as of late, even while he was not in your presence. These emotions grated at his mind, carving out a hole that could only be filled by your presence. Your blissful ignorance to the way you affected him was almost cruel, but what was an inexperienced god to do when he had fallen so helplessly for an equally clueless mortal?

A late bloomer, now that's something few would ever dare call the Lord of Geo. This petrified seed took six thousand years to crack, but at least it sprouted, right? Seeing mortals fall in love over and over, one would think it'd be apparent to him if those tender emotions were to one day bloom from the crevices of his own heart, but no, that would be giving him too much credit. He hardly knew what to do with himself in this aspect, much less you.

For all the broad knowledge he had accumulated, nothing could've prepared him for falling in love with you. He was used to taking his time, admiring every detail along his solitary journey. Never did it occur to him that he was not going slow enough, that he could possibly want to slow down even more, to the point of complete standstill. You were the inconspicuous bloom by the road that had managed to convince him to stop in his tracks. Every moment he spends in your presence, he fights the impulse to tear you from your stem. It terrified him to come to terms with what had taken root inside his heart and it would no doubt terrify you as well.

A part of him longed to imbue himself into your every waking second in an absurd attempt to prolong the limited time you had. To a mortal, a few decades was plenty, but to a god, it would never suffice. Even if you were willing to let him, your life was not something for him to wring. The right thing to do would be to leave you be, let you continue thriving undisturbed. Perhaps he should distance himself to preserve what semblance of a platonic friendship he managed to achieve with you. He was not about to let your impression of him sour with these unpredictable complications.

This was truly a dilemma only a lovestruck god could have.