#you can hurt and abuse them as much as you want

[l-in-the-light]

This cultural mechanism of denying humanity of certain individuals (most often villains) has a name. Rene Girard wrote about it in his book called The Scapegoat. I tried finding ANY reblog of this post which actually mentions this, but despite scrolling through at least half of reblogs, I couldn't find it, which means even if someone did point it out then it still went pretty much unnoticed.

We all know who or what a scapegoat is. It's that thing or that person, the root of evil, the source of chaos, the troublemaker, the trickster disrupting the long established safety and order (which is, ofc, the ultimate good). If you only get rid of the problematic individual, everything will be okay again. That's how it works. But there's a problem with it. There's never one scapegoat. After one comes another, and another, and another, till you get hundreds and thousands of them and you can't fit them in one neat grave or prison anymore. They keep coming and there will be more and more of them, this will never stop, because it's a cycle. A cycle of violence. If you really want for "things to be okay", you need to break that cycle, instead of finding YET another scapegoat, yet another villain to bury for all of our sins. By sacrficing another villain, another victim, another scapegoat on the altar of society, you only support the cycle to keep on going.

Yes, you heard me right. Villains are scapegoats. But victims ARE scapegoats as well. Anyone we forcefully silence and refuse to give agency to is the scapegoat. The homeless, the LGBT, the mentally different, any disabled people etc. Anyone who fits into a very broad category of "otherness". But here's the catch. Because this category is so broad it's very easy to become that "other". That's why people are willing to go to extreme lengths just to make sure no one sees them as "other". They will deny their disabilities, they will deny they're not like those "others", they will even deny their own struggles, just to fit into the safe mold of "normal". And if you silence yourself just because you're afraid you might be the next one victimized or villainized, you're also a scapegoat, btw. Your inner life and self-consistency is the sacrifice on the altar of society that doesn't care if you actually have a heart. All it cares about is for you to make sure you're "normal", which has a very murky definition too. Who's normal? The one who acts like the majority of others? The one who has the applause? (applause can be shortlived and depends on trends, it's dangerous, you're dancing on the edge). Every time we see someone as the "other" we judge, we're scapegoating them. Yes, all of us, by succumbing to our fear of being judged, contribute to this mechanism. Otherwise the seams of the society might fall apart and we can all turn against each other, we can rip apart the system, they warn us of anarchy, you might get killed in the middle of the street, there will be no police to guard the order, no prisons to keep the bad eggs away from you. Stay quiet, endure, it's for the safety of all of us.

No one should have to carry that weight of the whole world on their own shoulders. Not like this. But we do, every single day.

We're all capable of being bad people and often are. But we also all want to believe we're good. People think if someone didn't get love there's a reason of why they didn't receive it. That belief didn't come out of nowhere. It's internalized violence and judgemental mentality. You prefer to doom someone else as long as it saves yourself from being doomed. You're not only hurting others with it, but YOURSELF as well in the process. You get rid of your true empathy for others, you decide whose pain or suffering is the one "worthy" of acceptance and which is not and needs to be condemned. You can't afford that empathy for anyone else than you after a while, after all you live in constant, silent fear of "being next" if you just stop for a moment and look too long at the scapegoats buried around you. And what you fail to see is that you're also a scapegoat. If we all accept each other and ourselves as "others", if we're all just different people and no one is normal anymore, will this finally break the cycle?

You want to feel like a good person? Of course, we all do. But you can't achieve that if you're too afraid to look into the abyss/mirror and realize you also do bad things. You also need to redeem yourself. You can do better, but it's not easy. You know what's easy instead? Finding a scapegoat and blaming them for their own misery. Literally requires no work, the world will applause you and all you need to do is repeat same words after others. The mechanism works like a perpetuum mobile at this point, it will mostly do this job for you. Just take a stand, deem the villains, blame the victims, ignore the struggles and pain of others.

But here's the catch. If you're too cold, you're also gonna be judged and called a psychopath. That's also a no-no, you're becoming the unacceptable "other" again. You have to show, in specific, allowed circumenstances, that you feel sorry for others. That you know how to choose the "right" side. That you understand "good" needs sacrfices and sometimes you're even expected to cry for them. And if you see those sacrfices as not-human "others", it's easier to accept it all.

Many people claim how scary it is to face certain truths, like "victims can turn into villains too", but the real truth no one wants to face is actually this: we allowed this to happen. We allowed the villains to be formed, all of us. Every time we engage in judgemental actions, every time we police someone dealing with their pain "in wrong way", every time we call someone "born evil". Every time we point a finger and call someone a villain, a victim, a barbarian, the other. By doing that we trap them in endless world of pain and suffering and abuse. They also want to be out of that cycle, but we keep trapping them, by silencing them and adding our own narrative on top. They suffer for our sins. Because they're our scapegoat, the sacrifice we made to keep on going, thinking how good this world is and how much worse it could have been, just look in the right places. Just don't look at the scapegoats too long. They corrupt. Maybe their otherness is even contagious, so stay as far away from them as possible.

You're allowed to be mad about this, btw. Anger is a neccessary emotion, it points at injustice done to you. But the society wants you to throw that emotion away and supress it, so you're tamed and silenced. It might even create a "safe space" to vent it out, by encouragig you into physical activities or taking part in some entertainment, so you can lose your steam in a way that doesn't challenge the system. It's a distraction. (the point here isn't to condemn sport or popculture btw, it just serves as an example, ok?)

All communities work like this. We're all trapped in endless cycle of violence. We bury endless scapegoats under our communities, they become our foundations. After all, nothing unites different people better than finding a common villain, it's us (the good) vs them (the evil). Wait, did I just say "different people"? But we're supposed to be all the same! No, that's a myth. We were all always different. We just have to choose who is "more different than others", so we can unite ourselves against them.

You know what that reminds me of? "We're all equal. But some are more equal than others". Animal farm was about power structures. By accepting easy scapegoats, by abiding to this mechanism, we support the power system that oppresses us. Think about it. Our civilisation is build on this and it would not thrive the way it did without the scapegoats.

And all of you blaming christianity for this instead, you need to understand one thing. What Jesus taught was actually the reverse of scapegoating. “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her”. This is literally Jesus telling people "you all have sinned, so why are you judging them if you don't judge yourself?". What you all mean by christian/puritanist beliefs is how christianity got distorted and institutionalized into a power abusing system called religion. Swallowed up by what it tried to fight against. Always identify the actual source of abuse, instead of doing more scapegoating. I'm in no way inclined to defend christianity (not in the form it exists now), but also if we keep on muddling the truth we will always make the same mistake, so, always dig deeper to avoid it. Thank you.

not to post even more Villains Discourse on main but it really bugs me how people read giving villains tragic backstories as inherently excusing their actions and/or demonizing trauma survivors.

the actual message of Tragic Villains is (almost) always “people who are never taught or given any healthy, constructive outlets for their emotions will often find unhealthy, destructive outlets.” it’s that people who are traumatized and never learn how to cope with that trauma can become a danger to themselves and others. the message isn’t “trauma makes you evil!!!!” or “genocide is okay if you’ve been sad before!!!!” it’s “people need compassion and help to recover from trauma instead of becoming increasingly angry and harming themselves and others in the process.”

this site takes an alarmingly behaviorist and punitive approach to everything and it’s literally the most annoying thing. y’all have this concept that “if we just punish people hard enough, if we just scare them enough, if we just make them feel guilty enough.” that people just Do Bad Things Because They Do Bad Things, I Guess, and Because We Didn’t Threaten Them And Shame Them Enough. but humans are an innately social species. at our very core, we need compassion and kindness. we need healthy relationships with other humans.

you can keep looking at traumatized villains and being like “haha this dumb pathetic sadboi thinks murder is okay because his parents died” but as a survivor myself, unaddressed/untreated trauma absolutely can make you ragey and destructive. i was lucky enough to have support and eventually get the treatment i needed. but it’s not hard at all for me to imagine how, if that hadn’t been the case, that could’ve been me. obviously not on a movie-villain scale like murder or war crimes, but it’s so irritating as someone whose trauma has always manifested as anger to watch people on this site be like “this is just bad writing!!! real survivors/good survivors don’t end up like that the writers just hate survivors and want the audience to condone murder!”

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

Batfam x Neglected Mortal

Kombat reader

Lucid Dreams llll ll

Notes: This is part seven of lucid dreams.

Warnings: child neglect ,child abuse. Mention of killing and blood.

___________________________________________

Sibling are supposed to be Close. Their supposed to know eachother. To share some kind of bond. If not through emotion. Then through blood.

You know that. And yet looking into the teary eyes of your brother you feel useless.

Because you know nothing....you should mean nothing to him. Especially because of how you've always treated him.

And yet his teary eyes search yours for comfort. And you want to give him that. To comfort him. To show him you care....but you don't know how?

If jason was in his place with tears in his eyes. Everything would be easier. You'd hug him. Tell him everything is going to be alright. You'd tell him that you'd revenge his mother....

But Kion is not Jason. You don't know Kion like you know Jason. You don't know the right words to comfort him. But you should.

Your his sister his blood. And yet looking into his eyes. You realize you don't even know his favorite color....

Hesitatently you make a step forward and embrace him in a hug...it's different then any hug you've ever had.

It feels right. Like your supposed to hug him. He's quick to react just like he is when he fights...

His smaller arms wrap around you tightly as if scared that to pull you'll away. You rest your head against the top of his. And you can almost feel how tight his chest is. Because he's trying not cry more.

He's trying not to look weak.

He shouldn't be holding back his tears. Atleast not while with you. Because he's supposed to be your brother. And your supposed to comfort him. But don't know how to explain what your thinking into words without it breaking the comforting silence.

But before long he's breaking the silence. And your heart clenched when you hear his voice break. Because nomatter how much you try to pretend you don't care. You do.

"Please come back......please choose me."

His words are desperately and his hold on you tightens. As if his grip will convince you. You understood what he means when he asks you to chose him. He's asking you to chose him over Jason.

But you can't.....can you?

Your heart hurts and you want to speak but you feel like you can't trust your voice. So you nod.

It's a dumb mistake. Why the hell would nod?nod? The he'll would you agree?

You don't know but you just did. And he sighs and you can tell his chest isn't as tight anymore.

He looks up at you. And his eyes are filled with pain. But also love?

Your emotions confuse you. Why would you agree to go with him? Jason needs you.

But does he? He has a loving family. Something that Kion doesn't. Kion needs you more right?

You sigh you should chose Jason. He's always been there. But then there's Kion. And you've never even given Kion a chance....

And Kion is blood...and he loves like a brother should but so does Jason....

Your head begins hurting and you don't want to think about it anymore. But you don't think about your upcoming headache for long before you see a car far in the distance with their brights on.

Kion hesitatently pulls away from you and begins speaking.

"I'll be waiting for you at the big tower. At the square until sun rise....don't keep me waiting sister........please?"

And his words are desperately as he steps back into the shadows. He knows you don't really want to go with him. He knows you love Jason.

He just hopes you love him more.....

He's gone before you can say anything. And the car that was once into the distance is now much closer. You already know who it is.

And you really don't want to get in but there already infront of you.

"Get in." They say and there voice isn't as rude as it normally is. No, now it's pleading.

You reluctantly get in because your tired and your head hurts.

Getting into the expensive black car. You buckle up and don't spare them a glance. You don't want to talk to them. And you hope they don't talk to you.

But sadly you hoping doesn't stop them from speaking up.

"Where were you planning on going?"

Bruce asks and when you look at him his blue eyes aren't as cold as they usually are. No, now they hold....warmth?

"Anywhere away from my mother and you."

You say and you watch as your words hit him. And he tries to remain stoic but you can tell your words hurt him.

Good. You want him to feel what you've felt for years on end.

Your not angry anymore ,no. You feel nothing for him or your mother anymore. You won't waste your time or emotional on them anymore.

Not when you have much bigger problems.

You can Bruce feels bad. He probably wants to redeem himself. To be a father to you. And that thought almost makes you smile. How pathetic of them to want to change now.

It's too late. And you'll show them soon.

"I'm sorry....for everything."

Bruce words ring throughout the expensive car and the make a shiver roll down your spine.

How long have you prayed to hear those words?

How long have you felt you needed those words?

Oh! but it's too late now.....

"Being sorry doesn't change anything."

Your voice is so sharp. You've never talked to him like that. You've always bowed your head. Always gave in. Always been weak.

Your words hurt him no doubt and he doesn't know what to say. And you want to laugh but that'll ruin your moment.

For once the incredible batman has nothing smart to say? Perfect.

"Fear is a powerful thing....it can make people do cruel things....like hurt a child. Ruin a child.... Neglect a child." You say and he's stunned.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He didn't know that you knew he was afraid of you. And maybe if he'd pay more attention to you. He would have seen how good you can read people.

Even him.

"Your right....and I'm sorry I have no excuse for my actions."

He wants to say something else. Sometimes more powerful then just sorry. But he can't he doesn't know how. He doesn't know how to be your father.

And when he glances at you he can see you don't want him to be your father.

Atleast not anymore.

How long have you looked at him with such hate? How long has it been since you stopped looking at him with respect? He doesn't know.

For once he does fucking know.

You sigh you want this conversion to end. But you don't want to bow your head like a submission pet.

So you speak again.

"You always feared the wrong thing. You always thought I'd hurt someone hurt you or someone in the family.....and for a long time I was scared of myself too...but soon enough I realized that I wasn't a monster. That's just what you pictured me as."

now your words hit stronger then any punch Bruce has ever received.

No longer mister smarter pants huh? You want to say.

But you keep your mouth shut. Not wanting to ruin the sting of your words. He stays silent the whole ride home to the manor.

Finally arriving at the manor you quickly exit the car and make your way into the manor. You see everyone in the living room and they all looked relieved that your back.

For the first time ever you see them look happy to see you. You want to roll your eyes but your grandfather walks up to you with such a loving look that you don't want to seem like a brat.

Atleast not infront of him.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

His voice is quiet and you can tell he's been worried. And that makes you feel terrible. You can tell he knows what happened. He always does.

You've always came to him first. Always. So why not now?

"I just needed some time alone."

Your honest. you have no reason to lie. You could've also said that the first place they would've looked for you is with him. But he probably already knows that.

He nods and he knows he shouldn't push you farther. You can clearly see he wants to say something.

But he holds his tongue figuring its better to ask when your both alone.

You catch a glimps of jason sitting on the couch. He's bandaged up and he's looking at you clearly worried. You wonder if they've told him what happened.

What your mother did to you. Or if they just told him that you ran away.

Either way he's looking at you with the same kindness and adoration he always has. And your heart clenches.

He shouldn't be here worried about you. He should be in bed. Resting. Not worried about you at 2am.

You know that if he wasn't hurt he'd be the first one looking for you.

Your eyes don't stay him longer than a second. Because they can't bare the thought of what your about to do....of how your leaving him.

Everyone in the room is silent. And you couldn't cut the tension with the sharpest sword.

Your the first to speak.

"I'm going to bed." Your voice is strong and everyone knows better then to speak up or decline. But you can tell their shocked.

They probably figured you'd want to stay with your grandfather like you always do when your fighting with your mother.

But you can't stay with him... you know he'll convince you to stay once he figures out what your doing.....and plus you need to pack.

As you walk up the stairs you see jason try and stand as if to follow you to room but dick pushes. Him back down on the couch.

And for once your grateful for something dicks has done.

Because you know that if you were to even talk to Jason for a second you wouldn't leave...

Because nomatter how much you try and deny it...blood isn't thicker than water...

Atleast Not when it comes to Jason.

___________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @dhanyasri , @kore-of-the-underworld , @i-adorehannah , @plsfckmedxddy , @phoenixgurl030 @bunbunboysworld @bat1212 @skepvids @sirenetheblogger @Nervousalpacalady @118gremlin @darktrashpoetry @bitternsweet @kksmush @awawage @coffeemin @feral-childs-word @cens0r3d @sweetprincesscomputer @exactlynumberonekryptonite @rosy-myhouse34 @hebaoffside @sheep-from-rad @time-shardz @vanessa-boo @jellyedkazoo @chinxinsomnia @sillysealsies @nervousalpacalady @gwyneveire @simpingpandas

[awwyeah107]

2024 Fic Recs

Hello and welcome to my fic recs from 2024 post :)

Like in 2023, the vast majority of fanfiction I read has been Tolkien-centric; my hyperfixation is still going strong, lol. I also got into Longmire (the TV show; I haven’t read the books yet), so there’s a handful of Longmire fanfics in here too. And as I said last year, buckle up, because it’s a pretty long post (this one’s got roughly 80 fics, not counting series!).

For each fic, I’ll give a one-sentence summary and then my thoughts on the fic! I’ll also mention whether the fic is a oneshot, doubleshot (2 chapters), or a multi-chapter fic, as well as the fic rating. I’m sorting the Tolkien fics into series, topic-based, character/time/place-focused, AUs & others, and then I’ll put the non-Tolkien fics at the end. I am including in-progress fics in each of those categories.

Credit to @cafekitsune for the galaxy banners used to separate the sections :)

Intro: What to Expect & Fics Legend

Expect: Lots of angst—LOTS of it. I didn’t realize how much there was until I went back through all of these! Also a bunch of fluff and hurt/comfort. Majority of fics are genfic. Mostly Silmfics; some Lord of the Rings and/or Hobbit characters are featured. Most fics are rated T, with a few rated G or M.

Do not expect: Stories with a focus on romantic!Russingon (or any other first cousins x cousins ships), smut, or excessively gory or dark stories. No E-rated fics.

Notes about formatting: Sometimes, the bullet points may be spaced out a little strangely; that’s because Tumblr won’t actually tag more than 5 people at once in a set of bullet points, so I have to space them out in order for people to get tagged properly. When a fic has quotation marks around the summary, that means it’s taken straight from the summary of the fic. Occasionally, I’ll consider a fic to be rated differently for my personal taste than it’s marked on AO3, and in those cases I will mention that. For example: G [AO3 rating] / T [personal rating]. Otherwise, ratings are from AO3.

Fics Legend/Key These emojis are used to denote any stories that have the following elements, and I’ll do my best to put appropriate warnings/mentions of certain potentially triggering topics as well, when needed. Most if not all the stories do have necessary tags or content warnings given by the author, so if I miss something, the author and/or the fic tags should tell you about it. My apologies if I do miss anything.

🔒 Fic only available to AO3 users

🩸 Features somewhat shocking or graphic violence and/or heavy topics (including abuse, severe trauma, mental illness, etc.)

*️⃣ Features background romantic!Russingon or other cousin ships

🏳️‍🌈 Features LGBTQ+/queer ships and/or characters (for those who do or do not prefer to read fics with queer ships/characters. If you have any questions about this, feel free to send me a DM.)

✍️ Fic is in progress/incomplete

Also, this may go without saying, but I feel like it does need saying: Your mileage may vary with these fics, especially those that are not particularly fluffy. So, read what you’re comfortable with, and don’t read or skip what you aren’t.

I will tag authors who are here on Tumblr; I've included multiple fics by the same authors, so I will only tag each author once.

To all the fic authors, people posting meta/analyses, and fan artists: Thank you for sharing your work with the world. Your stories, musings, and art have brought me a lot of joy (and frequently, encouragement) this past year, and it’s still kinda crazy to me that I can read or see it for free. Because you loved canon enough to make something from it, and you wanted to share the results of that love with others. Thank you. ❤️

Series

Annaáuchiwee by @thegreenleavesofspring (Brievel on AO3) & The_Anonymous_Coauthor 🩸✍️ - [Modern AU] The story of how a biker thug scrapes a street rat up off the street and discovers, for the first time in thirty years, that he has a conscience, which leads him halfway across the country and into a lifestyle of love and sacrifice that he had long forsworn. (In-progress series of 4 works, multi-chapters, T) Y’all. Y’all. I cannot recommend this series enough. If you follow my sideblog, @fandomsandfairytales, you have almost certainly seen me posting about this over there. This series is essentially set in the Sons of the Star universe, which is a “sons of Fëanor as a biker gang” modern AU, but it’s a step to the left of that AU. Annaáuchiwee is focused on the modern equivalent of Celegorm, named Riser Way, and his journey (both literal and figurative) to become an honorable man. I absolutely adore the characters and writing in this series. There’s so much: humor (and lots of it), angst (and lots of that too), violence, domestic fluff, thoughtful moments, and so much character growth. I get excited every time I see an update in my inbox! (Warning: The series features a fair amount of violence, and it deals with heavy topics, including trafficking, rape, and child abuse.)

On Elrond Peredhel by @elvinye (leodesic on AO3) ️*️⃣ 🏳️‍🌈 (Russingon + biological son Gil-Galad; prominent in one work) ✍️ - "A series examining Elrond's kidnap-adoption [and Elrond himself] from a variety of different characters’ perspectives." (In-progress series of 13 works, oneshots and doubleshots, all rated T or G.) I enjoy reading lots of different perspectives on kidnap fam, and I love how this series explores a huge spectrum of characters’ reactions to a very Noldorin Elrond. It’s so well-written and gives me major Elrond feels. Seeing Elrond through so many different lenses is really cool; I think leodesic does a great job handling each character’s inner narrative and also showing Elrond as a kind and caring yet assertive individual, no matter what that character thinks of him. If you are into pro-Fëanorian kidnap fam, you’ll like this series!

Quenta Nossëo by HonoraryDawn ✍️ - Elrond accidentally travels through time and space and arrives in Valinor just in time for Fëanor’s birth in the Years of the Trees; Elrond decides to change history and raise Fëanáro himself. (In-progress series of 2 works, multi-chapters, T) This is such a cool series! I love how it changes history, and all the twists and turns throughout! Nature vs. nurture is a key theme in Fëanor being raised by someone other than Finwë, and Fëanor’s development and the way tensions rise differently in Valinor in the Years of the Trees are fascinating. Highly recommend! (I also recommend Fanarts for Preventative Measures by Leira_E, which has several pieces of fan art and fan-written blurbs for the first installment in this series.)

Horrible Goose Fingon by @pearlescentpearl (PandaFlower on AO3) - Fingon, having experienced life in Beleriand, wakes up in the Years of the Trees Valinor and immediately decides to make it Morgoth’s problem. (In-progress series of 2 works, oneshots and multi-chapters, all rated T or G.) Fingon hits the ground running here, and his quick deductions and planning are so much fun to read! I enjoyed his interactions with Maedhros and with Ingwë’s family, and I’m looking forward to more.

Topic-Based

Post-Thangorodrim

I went through a period of time where I was really into rescue-from-Thangorodrim and post-Thangorodrim fics, so here are my top Maedhros-Thangorodrim-trauma recs from this year!

The Shackle by @valarhalla (Elisif on AO3) 🩸 - Fingon rescues Maedhros from the cliff of Thangorodrim. (Oneshot, M) This fic was exactly what I was looking for when I was craving a rescue-from-Thangorodrim fic!!! Masterfully written. It really depicted the sort of state Mae would have been in, neglected and hanging from the cliff as he was. The entire thing is SO angsty and incredibly heartrending and I loved it. (Warning: Graphic descriptions of injury, bodily fluids, and the effects of an extended period of physical neglect.)

Open Wounds by @markedasinfernal (theeventualwinner on AO3)🩸*️⃣ - “Maedhros' post-Thangorodrim recovery.” (12 chapters, M) I devoured this fic over two days and oh my goodness. What an amazingly well-written piece. I loveddddd all of the medical terminology and the very analytical (though never at the cost of emotional, or vice versa!) way Maedhros’ healing was approached. There’s so much angst and tension amongst the rest of the sons of Fëanor and Fingon as well, yet it is borne out of care for Maedhros, and that care is shown very clearly in all their interactions with Maedhros himself. The richness of the relationships in this fic is really beautiful. (Note: Any Russingon in this fic is very, very lightly implied. Warning: Descriptions of injury, physical trauma, and PTSD.)

Whoops, They’re Both Asleep by until_the_stars_are_all_alight - Findékano comes to visit Maitimo when he hears his cousin wanted “Káno” and finds Makalaurë [Kanáfinwë] is already there. (Oneshot, T) A short, absolutely adorable oneshot! It’s only 350 words, but everything is so well-portrayed: the tension between Fingon and Maglor, the way Maedhros is dealing with his recovery, the affection he has for both his brother and cousin. I’ve reread it a few times now and I love it more every time.

No Resemblance by Elisif - Nolofinwë struggles to recognise his nephew after his rescue from Angband. (2 chapters, incomplete, T) This is SO PAINFUL and angsty and so good. From Fingolfin barely recognizing Maedhros for who he was (when Fingon brought him back) to all the memories of young Maedhros in Valinor, it’s shot through with feelssssss.

Dawn by potatoesanddreams - Maedhros’ first sight of the Sun. (Oneshot, T) A proper drabble clocking in at 100 words. I really enjoyed this one—I was fascinated by the second person point of view for Maedhros! The descriptions are so evocative and eloquent.

More About the Things that You Take With by @imnotdyingbutyouallare - Maedhros struggles with Maglor cutting his hair. (Oneshot, T) There is so much gentleness in this fic despite how much Maedhros is still suffering, and so much awareness of each other on both Maglor and Maedhros’ parts, which I loved. Even a “simple” thing such as cutting Maedhros’ hair is difficult for him, and I could really feel the fragility of Maedhros’ state of mind throughout. So, so good!!!

breakdown by @leucisticpuffin 🔒 - Maglor breaks down and Maedhros struggles to comfort him. (Oneshot, T) Oh my goodness, ugh. This is soooo painful and I love it. I feel terribly for Maglor, and for Maedhros feeling so helpless. What an angsty vignette of their relationship in the immediate aftermath of Maedhros’ rescue.

Let them see! by BarbieBlue - Maglor attempts to console Maedhros in a difficult moment during Maedhros’ recovery. (Oneshot, T) I loved reading this fic! I felt the acute frustration on Maedhros’ part that he can do so little and Maglor’s intense guilt. Maglor’s compassion and determination to prove to his brother that he cares is very compelling. (Fingon’s bewilderment at the end is rather hilarious, too.)

Us Against the World by @annoyinglandmagazine (Caranthirwasalesbian on AO3) - It’s the first feast after Maedhros’ recovery, and he realizes only having one hand makes table manners difficult. (Oneshot, G) To me, this fic really demonstrates how much the sons of Fëanor care for each other, and I simply adore it. It’s a beautiful picture of love on a practical level.

Crablor

Oneshots of our favorite singing elf-turned-crustacean, Crablor!

Soft-Shelled Soul by @thescrapwitch (theScrap_Witch on AO3) 🔒 - Maedhros learns from Námo that his brother has been transformed into a crab, and he is determined to find him and bring him home. (Oneshot, G) I really enjoyed this lovely Crablor story! I loved the fact that it was Maedhros and Celegorm who found Maglor—it makes perfect sense to not only have Maedhros, the caring older brother, searching but also Celegorm, the one who knows animal languages. Everything back in Valinor (the reactions! Maglor’s new living space!) are wonderful, too.

The Trial of Crablor Fëanorion by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maglor, in crab form, is put on trial for his crimes. (Oneshot, G) This fic could very well go in my humor section as well as the Crablor section. I found myself laughing throughout, and even typing this I’m smiling just thinking about it. The format of a court trial record is delightful, along with all the shenanigans included for the sake of the record!

lured to be loved by LadyHaleth - Elladan and Elrohir search for their long-lost grandfather…who they discover has been turned into a different form. (Oneshot, T) A sweet adventure! Elladan and Elrohir’s dedication to finding and caring for Maglor is so admirable, and I enjoyed their dynamic as twins and with Maglor. The details in every scene really make this fic! (And don’t miss the awesome art in the middle, since the art and fic were one of the TRSB collabs for this year.)

Humor

to speak, to scream and laugh with the echo by @artandsuffering (Tamatoa (SaltandtheSoul) on AO3) - When Maglor wakes up in the past after the Fourth Age, he decides to make it Sauron’s problem. (Oneshot, T) This fic is SO FREAKING FUNNY. The understated humor in this is incredible, and I love the phrasing throughout. The framing of the atmosphere of Angband as a corporate workplace of sorts (while still being fully in Middle-Earth, of course) simply makes this fic.

This Battle Could Have Been An E-mail by @tilion-writes (Tilion on AO3) ✍️ - A series of emails in Maedhros’ inbox throughout the ages. (4 chapters, in progress, T) INCREDIBLY hilarious. The email addresses, the domains for the email addresses (nargothrond.com! himring.net!), the email sign-offs for each of the characters, the subject lines, the files, the messages (including punctuation and tone of professionalism, or lack thereof) from each character—all of it was priceless.

Please Do Not by @mynameisjessejk - “In which Maedhros has all the foresight of the House of Feanaro and uses it entirely to prevent brother and cousin shenanigans.” (Oneshot, bullet-point, T) This fic is absolutely hysterical. I probably broke something trying so hard not to laugh (I was reading this when there were people around). The phrase “the transitive property of Finrod” still lives rent-free in my head months after I read it XD This fic also turned out to be really heartwarming and gave me many feels. So, so, so good.

How Dare by @catkin-morgs-kookaburralover (ATalkingCat on AO3) - The palantir experiences Pippin picking it up. (Oneshot, G) I laughed out loud multiple times reading this. It’s a short, delightful read with a VERY snarky palantir point of view, and I highly enjoyed it!

Give A Whistle by Prackspoor - “After the sacking of Ost-in-Edhil, the Dark Lord Sauron ordered his prisoners crucified and carried at the head of his army as banners so that their approach would strike fear into the hearts of his enemies; no one could have imagined that the last resistance of the Elven City had no plans to go out quietly… literally.” (Oneshot, T) A VERY humorous, somewhat dark oneshot (with a second chapter solely for references). It’s very Monty-Python-esque, with some direct Monty Python references, so if you enjoy that sort of humor, this will be right up your alley. The sympathetic orc captain point of view is fantastic! (Warning: There’s a few dark mentions/descriptions of torture.)

Romance-focused

Tax Fraud and Picnics by @thesummerestsolstice - Haleth and baby Erestor convince Caranthir to go on a picnic. (Oneshot, G) I’ve got three words for this fic: SUPER. DUPER. CUTE. This fic is as sweet as candy. I adore how much Caranthir loves Haleth, and the light humor sprinkled throughout made me grin (the Caranthir-Turgon arguments over taxes will never not be funny to me).

Mending by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “Caranthir sits by Haleth’s side as she dies and thinks of his family, his life, and his craft.” (Oneshot, T) Very sweet! I loved how the story wove Caranthir’s memories into the present day (pun very much intended), and his love for his craft is so beautiful. I also really enjoyed the visitors at the end :)

Your Eyes Are Like Knives (And I Really Like Knives) by @sweetteaanddragons (Drag0nst0rm on AO3) - Haleth knows that Caranthir is hiding something, and she is determined to find out what it is. (Oneshot, T) I saw that this fic was going to be part of TRSB 2024 a few days before the fics all got released, and I was so excited to read it! I had a fantastic time eagerly devouring it with much excitement and laughter, and as per usual, I thoroughly enjoyed Haleth flustering Caranthir.

Yours Dearly, Most Sincerely by Drag0nst0rm - “Five times Nerdanel had to help Feanaro write a letter, and one time he returned the favor. (And two times they had to write a letter alone.)” (Doubleshot, T) This fic both filled me up with the love Fëanor and Nerdanel had for each other (and their sons!) and ripped me to pieces with angst. The way Nerdanel often balances out Fëanor’s fiery spirit when it comes to composing a letter—and the way he chooses to listen to her!—is wonderful to read; the scene with the third letter practically gave me a heart attack from how adorably fluffy it was. Of course, this makes it all the more heartbreaking when they are apart. A very emotional read all around!

Breaking Into Light by @starspray ✍️ - Glingaereth happens to meet Fingon, the crown prince of the Noldor, and the two begin to take an interest in each other. (4 chapters, in progress, T) I haven’t read any Fingon x OFC fics before, and I really liked this one! Glingaereth and the other original characters stand well on their own, and the chemistry between Glingaereth and Fingon feels natural. I also liked the outside perspectives of the Noldor royal family and the uneasiness amongst the Sindar about the sense of doom following the Noldor.

Nothing in the World is Single by StarSpray - Eärendil and Elwing become friends…and then more. (5 chapters, T [AO3 rating] / G [personal rating]) This is so sweet! I really enjoyed this fic—the easy pacing, Eärendil’s friendly nature, and Elwing’s more reserved personality all combine to make a great read. The descriptions are wonderful, and I liked Eärendil and Elwing’s adventures.

Character, Time, or Place-Focused

Kidnap Fam

What matters is ‘you’ and not the state of you. by @havenotwillnotreadthebooks (EclecticKefi on AO3) - “Maglor contemplates the Peredhel that he and his brother have taken in, then contemplates the effect of this new life on Maedhros.” (Doubleshot, T) This was such an enjoyable read! I loved reading Maglor’s reflections, especially on Maedhros as a father figure to Elrond and Elros. I also enjoyed reading how the twins’ nature as peredhel (and being somewhat eldritch to boot) affects their domestic life with Maglor and Maedhros.

I keep my enemies closer than the mirror ever gets to me by EclecticKefi 🔒 - Elrond and Elros hide in Maglor’s closet and overhear Maedhros and Maglor talking. (Oneshot, T) This fic is both heartbreaking and heartwarming in multiple ways. The two peredhel have seen far too much trauma and suffering in their young lives, but their empathy is really sweet. Also, I’m always a fan of eldritch!peredhel, so I liked the notes of that scattered throughout the story.

On Monsters and Lullabies by Tilion - Maglor is the one the twins like, not Maedhros, and Maglor confronts his brother. (Oneshot, T) I will never tire of the angstiness of Maedhros and Maglor arguing over the twins and the role they play in their lives, nor how Maedhros becomes someone the twins can trust. Maglor’s softness with the twins is so sweet (baby Elrond and Elros are ADORABLE), and the reflections (both Maglor’s and Maedhros’) on how much Maedhros had changed since being in Valinor are really well-written.

And Love Grew by @polutrope (polutropos on AO3) ✍️ - Maedhros and Maglor deal with the aftermath of their attack on Sirion, and Maglor leads their host—including two young peredhel and their caretaker—to Amon Ereb. (6 chapters, in progress, T) A wonderfully complex, angsty, deeply woven tale. Every character and relationship has so many layers, and polutropos does a great job of exploring the darkness of the Oath and the ripple affect it has on the sons of Fëanor, their followers, and the people of Sirion.

And when we’re in the dark, it echoes in your heart by ElectricKefi - Elros unintentionally triggers Maedhros’ Sauron-related trauma. (Oneshot, T) Poor Maedhros AND poor Elros! The idea that the peredhel with Maia blood would bring back Maedhros’ memories of being tortured by Sauron—especially when Elros is trying to help him—is so sad. I loved the instantly-on-alert Maglor who is there to de-escalate the situation, too.

though the shadow closes in by millyfaraway - Maglor and Maedhros strategize to keep Elrond and Elros safe. (Oneshot, T) I really like the dialogue and OCs in this one! The discussion of Sauron and Morgoth’s desire for the peredhel, the plans to keep moving, and the connection Maedhros and Maglor share all flow quite well.

First Age Beleriand

Finwëons & Fëanorians:

Mind the Gap by Tilion - Maglor visits Himring. (Oneshot, T) Loved reading this!! Great characterization of both the characters themselves and their relationship. They are SUCH siblings in this, and I really enjoyed reading them snarking at each other and checking up on each other and seeking to ensure all was truly well. I’ll also never pass up a scene with Maglor braiding Maedhros’ hair.

The Light Behind Your Eyes by Tilion ✍️ - Scenes of Maglor and Maedhros after Thangorodrim. (2 chapters, in progress, T) I love how beautifully this portrays Maglor and Maedhros’ relationship. It balances the past and the present really well. Even though Maedhros is still clearly suffering from his time in Angband, this fic has a calm tone to it, and I can see the healing taking place in Maedhros’ spirit. A lovely read.

Scribbles and Squabbles by @dreamingthroughthenoise (Alantie on AO3) 🔒 - An argument between the Fëanorians, through letters. (7 chapters, T) This was a delight to read! Humorous at times, and heartfelt at others. I could pick up on the underlying hurt and desire to be seen that sparked the argument, and the love and care rising from the letters as things resolved. (The very clear and present sass was quite fun, too.)

Gingerbread Cookies by Elisif - Aredhel and Fingon supervise Idril and Tyelpë while they make Christmas cookies. (Oneshot, G) This is such an adorable fic—tiny Idril and Celebrimbor are so cute, and I loved Aredhel and Fingon’s brother-sister relationship. Their interactions have such fond sibling energy!

A Mere Shadow by Elisif - Maglor comes to visit Maedhros and is reminded of Thingol’s Quenya ban. (Oneshot, T) So good and so sad! I could immediately feel the shift in Maglor’s mood when Maedhros inadvertently reminds him of the ban, and the sorrow oozing from both brothers, as if from a wound.

the raging storm of a foreign war, and a face i'd seen before by @arafinweanappreciation (TelerinJedi on AO3) - Finarfin comes to Beleriand. (Oneshot, T) This fic is short yet so expressive!! I love Finarfin seeing Tol Sirion and him talking about avenging his son in such a terrifyingly calm manner.

Ill-Tidings by TheScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maedhros brings news to Curufin that Nargothrond has fallen. (Oneshot, T) Poor Curufin 😭 This fic has all the dad!Curufin feels!!!! Curufin’s humanity (or elvish equivalent, lol) shines through in this fic in his anguish over his son. His grief and rage are so palpable (and so well-written!).

Too Big, Too Heavy by @hwestalas - Maedhros visits the new High King of the Noldor after the Dagor Bragollach. (Oneshot, T) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Fingon’s grief over Fingolfin is so raw and real, and I love how he tries to keep it together but fails in the face of Maedhros’ calm, devoted friendship. Such a great read.

ever an anguish that pursued by @thelordofgifs (TheChasm on AO3) 🩸 - Maglor tries to save Maedhros from the fire, but he keeps waking up. (Oneshot, T) UGH SO ANGSTY. So so angsty. All of the “what if”s that Maglor dreams could have happened are so terribly sad, because he can see so many ways out that don’t involve Maedhros jumping into the chasm. (Warning: suicide and multiple near-suicide attempts.)

stone on the board by @dalliansss - The Finwëons play games with politics in Beleriand at Mithrim. (Oneshot, T) So good! Love the politicking going on in this fic, primarily between Maedhros and Finrod. Quite an intriguing read.

there's no timer on grief 🔒 by Kat_isaconfusedbean - After Losgar, Amras mourns. (Oneshot, T) This is SO painful. Especially for how short this fic is. My heart aches for Amras (and for Celegorm). I love Celegorm coming to comfort his brother, along with Huan.

Unrepentent by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maedhros will not give up on obtaining the last Silmarils. (Oneshot, T) The Oath has Maedhros in its grip so tightly in this fic (along with his own memories and experiences), and it’s horrifying yet understandable to see him act and think the way he does. I love the dynamic between Maedhros and Maglor in this fic, too.

the ways of birds by @welcomingdisaster (welcoming_disaster on AO3) - “When Maglor is captured in the aftermath of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, he doesn't expect a rescue. (for the prompts maglor + maedhros + "need to keep quiet" & "roadside wound tending.”)” (Oneshot, T) SO MUCH MAGLOR WHUMP. And so much tension, too. I could really feel Maglor’s raw, gritty pain and the ugly experiences he endured. It made the comfort part of “hurt/comfort” that much more relieving when he was, indeed, rescued.

Non-Finwëons:

Mad, Not Angry by AfricanDaisy - Young Thranduil is woken from a thunderstorm, and searches for a source of comfort: his father. (Oneshot, G) SO so cute! I could really feel Thranduil’s panic in searching for Oropher, and then his simultaneous relief and upset when he did find him. The descriptions are vivid and well-crafted, very fun to read!

no vela, no orion by TelerinJedi - A comment from Andreth’s sister causes her to wonder if she is in love with Nóm (or vice versa), and it is harder to have a discussion with him about this than she thinks. (Oneshot, G) The adolescent awkwardness and embarrassment in this fic brings me back to my teenage days XD This is really sweet though, truly. A light bit of fluff!

Second and Third Age Middle-Earth

living arrows sent forth by @balrogballs (timelessutterances on AO3) - Thranduil and Elrond discuss fatherhood at Arwen and Aragorn’s wedding reception. (Oneshot, T) SO. SO. GOOD. I seriously love the phrasing in this one, as well as Thranduil’s and Elrond’s characterizations, their long-held opinions and memories of each other, and their discussion of parenthood. Thranduil is so snarky and Elrond so earnest. Phenomenal all the way through.

rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated by @lighttrls (thunder_and_stars on AO3) - Unaware of elves’ habit of sleeping with their eyes open, Estel finds Elladan unmoving with his eyes open and thinks he must be dead. (Oneshot, T) POOR BABY ESTEL aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. The angst is off the charts in this one; my heart was breaking for tiny Aragorn. I was so glad that his assumption was corrected, in the end.

i'm fine, i prom- by thunder_and_stars - Elladan and Estel are captured by orcs and tortured. (Oneshot, T) Oh my goodness, I wanted to kill each and every orc right along with Elladan. The descriptions of the orcs’ actions, their impact on Estel physically, and the impact on Elladan emotionally were so vivid. It’s some good, heavy whump (with some comfort at the end).

sticks and stones may break my bones by thunder_and_stars - Some people don’t like the fact that Estel lives with the elves. (Oneshot, T) Once again, right there with one of the twins on wanting to beat up people for mistreating Estel. The way Estel tried to hide his injuries and then admitted what happened and what was said and done to him was so sad. Lots of hurt/comfort here.

A Long Way To Go In The Morning by @nocompromise-noregrets (likethenight on AO3) 🔒 - “The night before the Fellowship of the Ring leaves Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir give Aragorn some encouragement.” (Oneshot, T) I really enjoyed this one! Elladan and Elrohir are such good brothers to Aragorn, and the way they lifted his spirits was really sweet. I liked the discussion of mortality as well as the hopefulness that the twins had about the Quest and Aragorn’s success.

Advice Unlooked For by sehellys - Aragorn talks to Elladan and Elrohir when they return from the Wild, and then he goes to the Feast in the Hall of Fire. (Oneshot, T) The descriptions in this one are simply beautiful—and so is the dialogue! I loved the shift from serious to “shenanigans mode” after the twins update Aragorn on what’s going on in the outside world.

Re-embodiment in Valinor

Red, Red Moon (Keep On Rising) by Tilion 🏳️‍🌈 (Celegorm/Oromë features somewhat prominently, especially in the back half) - Celegorm wakes up outside Mandos with two silver-haired elflings and no memories; he sets off to bring the boys to their parents and figure out his identity. (24 chapters, T) This was such a fun fic to keep up with as it got updates! Celegorm and the twins (kidnap fam 2.0, one might say) were incredibly adorable. I loved Legolas and Tauriel’s inclusion, and I highly enjoyed the whole identity crisis Celegorm went through (seriously, it was awesome). Celegorm feels SO Celegorm to me in this fic: cocky, rough around the edges, more caring than he’d like to admit. Overall there’s so much to this fic, and the twists and turns kept me on the edge of my seat.

Hemlock and Niphredil by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “In Fourth Age Valinor, Elrond and Thingol connect over a shared love of gardening and grief for their daughters.” (Oneshot, T) I had never really thought about Elrond and Thingol’s similarities before this fic, and I loved getting to read them interacting and forming a friendship! Both have lost daughters by the choice to give up immortality, yet they have quite different personalities (and a complicated family tree), and it’s beautiful to see them connect through their shared experiences. (It’s also interesting to read Thingol portrayed in a more sympathetic light than most fics—yet not without his imperfections, certainly.)

Memento Vivere (Remember, You Must Live) by Drag0nst0rm - “Maedhros and Maglor have a long overdue discussion of what happened at the edge of that chasm - and what happened after.” (Oneshot, T) UGH so GOOD and so ANGSTY. There are so many emotional beats in this fic, and I found myself bracing for each one. I painfully love Maglor’s instincts when it comes to protecting/taking care of Maedhros after all these years, and how he doesn’t want the people he loves to be hurt because of him—though he has been in so much pain himself, and Maedhros sees that. Really, really good. (Warning: Discussion of suicide.)

White Water Flowing by StarSpray ✍️ - In Valinor and homesick for Imladris, Celebrían decides to build a new one. (6 chapters, in progress, T) This is such a lovely fic!! I’ve really enjoyed reading it. I love Celebrían’s characterization—many people underestimate her, and it’s wonderful to see her bloom after healing in Lórien. She simultaneously has a gentle soul and an admirable tenacity and drive. I also love reading her interacting with members of Elrond’s family and seeing how those relationships develop.

Handle with Care by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “When Fëanor left the Halls of the Dead, he did not expect Mahtan to be the one waiting for him.” (Oneshot, T) I loved this!!! I don’t see a lot of Mahtan and Fëanor interactions, and I really enjoyed reading their conversation. (I grinned at Mahtan telling Fëanor off about Nerdanel. I haven’t seen that before and I’ve really wanted to, so it was quite satisfying.) It’s clear that they both carry a lot of grief, and they have a familiar relationship underpinning everything.

From Ruins We Grow by TheScrap_Witch 🔒✍️ - Fëanor learns how to live again (and how to garden!) when he is returned to life and placed under Yavanna’s responsibility to tend a small corner of Valinor. (7 chapters, in progress, T) I get so excited whenever I see an update for this fic in my inbox! There’s so much feeling in this fic, which is very fitting for Fëanáro’s fiery, intense character. It’s in turns amusing and exasperating to see him humbled by learning a new craft, yet I always find myself rooting for him in his endeavors. I love the relationships he forms with the visitors to his garden, and all the sweet memories of his sons practically make my heart melt.

AUs

In-Universe AUs

An Unexpected Rescue by SpaceWall - Fëanor realizes that someone has taken on the form of his half-brother Fingolfin, and that the real Fingolfin has disappeared. (Doubleshot, T) This is SUCH a cool AU!!! I really enjoyed reading this one. I love Fëanor’s insistence on figuring out what happened and finding Fingolfin, though of course in denial that he cares for his brother deep down. I’d say more but I don’t want to spoil it!

Will You Greet the Daylight Looming? by Tilion - Maglor persuades Maedhros to live. (Oneshot, T) Oh, this fic is terribly, delightfully angsty. I love how Maglor and Maedhros’ relationship is portrayed here, and the vivid imagery really brings it to life. Lots of thee/thou and ‘dearest’ language, too!

Reforged by theScrap_Witch 🔒🩸🏳️‍🌈 (background Celebrimbor/Gil-Galad) - Maeglin survives the fall of Gondolin, and Celebrimbor and others help him to find his way to healing. (20 chapters, G [AO3 rating] / T [personal rating]) What a story. Just—what a story. It takes you on a rollercoaster of emotion and growth and change and just, wow. I am so freaking proud of Maeglin in this fic, and I love his characterization. He digs his claws into life and doesn’t let go, and it’s incredible to see his transformation over the course of centuries. I also loved the inclusion of many other Second and Third Age characters in this story and how Maeglin’s life becomes intertwined with theirs. This fic is angsty and agonizing on so many levels, but it is fiercely emotional and cathartic in good ways too. I really enjoyed getting to follow along with this fic as it was published!

Scion of Mystery by Tilion 🏳️‍🌈 (minor Erestor/Curufin) - Elrond is determined to uncover Gil-galad’s true parentage. (7 chapters, T) Absolutely BUCK WILD Gil-Galad theory. Complete and total plot twist that I did NOT see coming until a few sentences before it was revealed!! Elrond’s shenanigans along the way to uncover Gil-Galad’s parentage were so much fun to read. Features kidnap fam and Celrond, along with other Fëanorians.

Parley AUs This is a subset of in-universe AUs where someone other than Maedhros gets taken at the parley with Morgoth. Apparently this was the year for me to get into parley AUs, and it even inspired me to write my own, lol!

The Price We Pay by theScrap_Witch 🔒🩸 - “In which Makalaurë goes to parlay with Morgoth, Findekáno still performs his dramatic rescue, and Maitimo struggles with both his little brother’s recovery and his responsibilities as king.” (Oneshot, T) This fic yanked out my heart and stomped on it and then tossed it off a cliff for good measure. I’ve read a few different Maglor-is-taken-at-the-parley fics, but oh boy, this one poured on the FEELS. Everything in this fic is heartbreaking—from Maglor’s belief that he is a “pretty bird” meant to sing to Morgoth, to Maedhros’ distrust/fear of Fingolfin, to all of Maglor’s brothers’ pain over his traumatized state—yet there is an undercurrent of hope that slowly rises throughout the story. It’s so well-written, and I highly, highly recommend it.

Despair Like Poison by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - “Thinking that he’s protecting his family, Maedhros rides to the parlay alone, unaware that Morgoth has a different trick in mind.” (Oneshot, bullet-point, T) Sooooo so angsty!! I really can’t say much about this without spoilers, but aaaaaaaaa. Maedhros is firm about his decision to go, but he’s so gentle with his brothers at the moment of departure, which makes what happens after so much worse.

A Crown of Bones by theScrap_Witch 🔒 - Maitimo and Makalaurë are taken in the parley with Morgoth, and Tyelkormo must take up the crown. (Oneshot, T) I really liked this AU! Celegorm has a lot to deal with here, both in being the oldest Fëanorion and being king of their people. The reminder that he can handle himself in political situations and display his power in words—not just physical action—is fantastic, and the way he cares so deeply for his younger brothers and misses his oldest two is heartwrenching.

Boldness Be My Friend by @a-tehta (tehta on AO3) - Celegorm has been captured by Morgoth, and it is up to Aredhel and Huan to rescue him from the cliff of Thangorodrim. (Oneshot, T) This one is surprisingly humorous for being a rescue-from-Thangorodrim fic, yet also sweet! I really loved getting a Huan POV (so cool), and I enjoyed Aredhel getting to be the rescuer. (There is a bit of implied future Celegorm/Aredhel at the end, but it’s mostly, if not entirely, played for humor.)

Modern AUs

Little Stars, Little Souls by Tamatoa (SaltandtheSoul) - Fëanor looks for his second son, who is dressed up for Halloween. (Oneshot, G) SUPER. CUTE. This is some of the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff and I was just gobbling it up. Baby Maglor is the cutest thing and I love Fëanor as a dad here.

the adventures of Elf Guy by red_01 - “A group of friends obsessed with The Silmarillion discovers a guy who bears a resemblance to Maglor—and uncover the truth.” (Oneshot, T) This was so much fun to read (and highly amusing)! The Twitter format was a great choice, and I’m impressed by the dedication to it. I enjoyed the back-and-forth chaos, internet-typical keysmashes and all caps, and references to artists in the Tolkien fandom (e.g., Clamavi de Profundis, “Phobs-style” cosplays).

Cookies by Brievel 🔒 - Girl Scouts visit the Ways’ house. (Oneshot, G) This absolutely delighted me. I love everything about it—the POV of the girl scouts, the way they were all intimidated by Max, a cameo by Nell, Birdie yelling for cookies in the background. It’s so sweet and made me grin so much.

Valentines Flowers by Brievel 🔒 - “Max brings Misty flowers.” (Oneshot, G) Max and Misty are just straight-up ADORABLE. The way they interact and how they familiar they are with each other’s habits shows how comfortable they are with each other. They both are down so bad, and I love to see it. I also love to see Max doing something nice for Misty :)

Other Tolkien Fics

These are fics that didn’t fit into any other category or had less than three fics within each category.

Miscellaneous:

The War of the Ring by @winterinhimring (morwen_of_gondor on AO3) - The sons of Fëanor are re-embodied and sent to Middle-Earth to atone for their crimes during the Third Age when the Quest for the Ring begins. (42 chapters, T) PSA: if you’ve read The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings, you must read this. Required reading. I am only very slightly joking. This story is absolutely PHENOMENAL. I was curious to see what the sons of Fëanor joining the Fellowship would be like, and I was blown away by how beautifully written it is. Y’all. It’s written in the style of The Lord of the Rings books. Like, legitimately. I never knew how much I needed to see the Fëanorions interacting with the hobbits, or showing the strength of ancient Valinorian-born elves in battle, and it all being written in true Tolkienian style is so incredibly wonderful. I can’t recommend this enough.

Joys to Come by @darkfrozenabyss - “Glorfindel, from Tirion to Rivendell.” (7 chapters, T) Loved this fic!!! I love darkfrozenabyss’ characterization of Glorfindel so much. There are so many emotionally powerful, simple and sweet, and feels-inducing moments in this story, and I really enjoyed Glorfindel’s family and how close he is with them!

Years of the Trees Valinor:

Little Father by feanorianswelcome 🔒 - “Maitimo finds little Atarinkë and brings him home for luncheon.” (Oneshot, G) Cute little Curufin oneshot with big brother Maitimo! I haven’t read a lot of Curufin & Maedhros together, so this was enjoyable (and very sweet).

Fine Feathers, Pretty Songs by an_evasive_author - Everyone loves tiny Findaráto (as they should). (Oneshot, G) SO. FREAKING. CUTE. All the fluff for Findaráto! I loved him so much (and the writing style of this fic, too).

Rings of Power:

Look into the Mirror (Tell Me What You See) by Drag0nst0rm - Second Age!Gil-Galad and Rings of Power!Gil-Galad switch places. (3 chapters, T) I have watched one (1) episode of the Rings of Power series, but I have thankfully read enough articles about it that I understand enough to read this fic! It’s a highly amusing and enjoyable read :) The difference in Gil-Galads is quite noticeable, and I loved seeing Second Age!Gil-Galad quite surprised at his (supposed) past actions in RoP, whereas RoP!Gil-Galad is a little less aware of the change in his surroundings (but everyone else certainly is).

Another Skin by crystal_buizel - Second Age!Elrond and Rings of Power!Elrond switch places (based off of “Look into the Mirror (Tell Me What You See)”). (Doubleshot, T) Another swapped places fic! Poor Elrond in both situations, but especially poor Second Age!Elrond. Like the other fic, I can’t say too much about it without spoilers, but this one is also enjoyable, with a bit more angst on the part of both Elronds.

Tumblr Oneshots:

just you wait by @lintamande - “being brilliant in mind and swift in action she had early absorbed all of what she was capable of the teaching which the Valar thought fit to give the Eldar…” (T) I really liked this oneshot! Galadriel in her youth is rather clueless when it comes to social interactions, though she is vastly intelligent in intellectual matters, and I can feel her frustration, restlessness, and pride so strongly in this. Really well-written.

Oropher and Celeborn have a conversation by @amethysttribble - At a party, Oropher and Celeborn talk about the line of Lúthien. (T) SO good!!!! I loved this so much. Oropher and Celeborn’s characterization and views on things make a lot of sense, and I love how their discussion flows. They are the last two of Doriath, and that weight on their shoulders is so evident throughout this fic.

Non-Tolkien Fics

Longmire

A Never Ending Bake Sale by ladygray99 - Walt and Henry spend a casual evening together at The Red Pony. (Oneshot, T) I absolutely loved reading this fic. I feel like ladygray99 really nailed the characters, their relationship, and their mannerisms. Everything in Walt and Henry’s conversation, said and unsaid, felt very natural and relaxed. You can feel the depth of their 38-year-long friendship and how comfortable with each other they are. Although I’ve only seen the TV show and not read the books, I liked how it incorporated things from both. A great read!

Every Page You Turn You’re Writing (Typing) Your Legacy by @cminerva and @whatamess 🔒 - ��For nearly four decades, Mathias has found many reasons to admire Ms. Ruby Mason née Taylor and in that time Ms. Ruby has found just as many reasons to be fond—and so proud—of the man Mathias has become.” (Oneshot, T) Oh my GOSH. This fic is adorable and cringy (in the best way!) and so freaking cute. I highly enjoyed the descriptions of Durant high school in the early 80s, complete with a typing class; although I wasn’t alive at the time, it feels quite realistic. I loved seeing Mathias’ journey through high school into adulthood and the way his and Ruby’s friendship developed over time, from Mathias’ schoolboy crush to his respect for the amazing woman she is. Mathias and Ruby’s friendship has now become canon to me, to the point where I’ll watch episodes and get excited whenever these two characters (who, for anyone who doesn’t know the show, are minor characters and very rarely interact) get to see each other, even only for a quick nod or short smile.

Something New by cminerva - Though they’ve known each other for years, May Stillwater and Mathias Littlesun have never been friends—and indeed, they’ve been enemies before—but perhaps it’s time for something new. (Oneshot, T) I am now a May/Mathias shipper after reading this fic XD I really liked how this not only addressed the (admittedly few) interactions they had in the TV show but also added more “off-screen” ones to give more depth to their on-screen appearances. They have a lot of reason to dislike each other, but I loved how in this fic, they began to see reasons to respect each other and then caught feelings. So cute!

Quigley Down Under

Morning Sun by Brievel 🔒 - Matthew and Cora wake up together. (Oneshot, G) This fic is SO SOFT. I can totally picture this happening as an epilogue after the end of the movie, and I can hear their voices so well. The details are quite lovely. Quigley Down Under is a pretty niche film, but if you’ve seen it, you deserve to read this fic!

I mentioned this at the start, but I wanted to reiterate because I truly am very grateful—To all the fic authors, people posting meta/analyses, and fan artists: Thank you for sharing your work with the world. Your stories, musings, and art have brought me a lot of joy (and frequently, encouragement) this past year, and it’s still kinda crazy to me that I can read or see it for free. Because you loved canon enough to make something from it, and you wanted to share the results of that love with others. Thank you. ❤️

And thank you to all who read this far XD Hope you enjoy some (or all!) of these fics!

Other Fic Rec Lists: 2023 Fic Recs, Fic Recs for Elrond Week 2024 (on fandomsandfairytales)

[bernadette-laurent]

Twisted Wonderland OC

"Don't worry, I'll do what I can…although it probably won't be much." Grade: First year, Class 1-A (special student) Age: ??? Height: 1.50cm Hobbies: sewing Dislikes: loud noises Favorite food: roasted vegetables Least favorite food: cookies. Special Ability: Tactical Intuition (React before the enemy attacks) -sing -create dresses, bags and plushies. Club: Gargoyle Appreciation Club

Small description:

They describe her as a ghost just out of the basement, but she has no bad intentions, she just wants to be happy.

Don't miss her, she comes from a different world so it's normal that she doesn't know anything at all, just guide her and you'll see a sad but sincere smile. She is open to doing all kinds of things (never you dare overdo it) anything is fine, she just wants to be a better person than she used to be before.

She seems to be very lazy, rude or even angry but she is actually a very good person (get to know her and you will see a kinder and more peaceful side) she loves art and nature and will care more about you than herself.

Although he has an exaggerated side, he will alter any situation to get his way.

Background Story:

Bernadette was born from a relationship between young people, they fought daily and the breakup only made things worse.

Her father wanted to be a famous actor and her mother simply wanted to live without complications, when she found out about the pregnancy they immediately separated.

Her father abandoned them and her mother daily got angry or did everything possible to get rid of Bernadette in her womb, although without any success she had her and never took care of her, Bernadette had no limits in her childhood so she was very naughty, until one day her mother looked for her father and decided to abandon her with him.

He had no idea how to take care of her, so he tried to leave her on the streets but he regretted it and took her to his older brother.

The uncle was not far behind, many in the city feared him, no one knew what he did, he and Bernadette lived in an old and rusty camper near the forest, and many abuses towards Laurent began that continued for many years, finally she stopped being the girl without limits and her gaze faded.

When she arrived to her new world she was afraid of everyone at school, she did not trust anyone and was so pessimistic that no matter how much she suffered she never complained because everyone could have a worse time than her… until everyone silenced her and told her that they worried every day about the way she expressed herself and that she should never be afraid of anything.

Extra information: -She failed many subjects in high school at the cost of little work and unjustified absences. -She does not usually shout due to multiple scoldings from her uncle, so when she does so her throat hurts a lot. -Her previous school was divided into men and women. When there were special days everyone got together.

[kngrose]

Bully!sevika with reader and the fawn response. Reader that instead of fighting tries to appease sevika. Instead of trying to run away clings on harder. That does everything she's told. Reader that internalizes sevika's insults can even predict them before she even says them, calling herself useless and a waste of space. Reader that doesn't even raise her hands to shield herself anymore.

bully! sevika

when reader has a fawn response

WARNINGS: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. mentions of harassment, bullying, manipulation, general abusive themes

from roselí ᡣ𐭩 : anonnnnnnnnn. i love your brain.

Sevika would have mixed feelings about this this. Of course, there’s something wholly satisfying about the fact that you submit to her willingly— though she would make you do that regardless— even going as far as to make the job easier for herself.

But there’s a part of her that craves the fight, the challenge, the need to break something.

At first, she found it amusing.

She prides herself on being able to break people, to see them fold under pressure and end up scurrying away at aby given opportunity. But you? You never fight back. Never lash out, or run. Instead, you cling to her. Even as her harsh words cut deeper than a blade, or her hands gifted you another bruise, nothing. No scampering, no fire behind the eyes.

You fold under her like paper in the rain. When she barks an order, you dont hesitate. When she sneers at you, you nod along like you deserved it. Like a pathetic little dog.

Of corse this would arise questions in her. This wasn’t normal compliance. This wasn’t even a work of fear. There was something deeper to it. She could only wonder what could have made you conditioned this way. What poor parenting you had. But she never wonders long; that’s neither here nor there.

Regardless of who scattered your brain into this mess, you were hers to play with. And play she did. What started as amusement for her quickly turned into something darker.

She shot you a glare as you clumsily knocked her drink over, the contents spilling across the table in a way that was almost captivating. "Sorry," you mumbled, your voice so soft she had to strain to hear it.

"Course you are," Sevika shot back, her scarred lips curling into a snarl. She leaned back in her chair, her dark eyes narrowing as she watched you. "You always are."

And you were. You apologized for things you hadn't even done. If Sevika so much as raised an eyebrow at you, you were tripping over yourself to fix it, to smooth it over, to keep her from growing angrier.

Her jaw tightened as she once’s you over.

No fight. No defiance. Just desperation. You didn't raise your hands to shield yourself anymore. You didn't even flinch when her voice dropped to that dangerous tone everyone else feared. Instead, you stood there, wide-eyed and apologetic, waiting for the next insult and clinging to every word like your life depended on it.

Maybe it does.

Sevika didn't like it. Or at least, that's what she told herself. There was no satisfaction in bullying someone who crumbled so easily. So willingly. Someone who doesn’t challenge her.

She didn’t need to exert that brute force that she naturally carried. Didn’t need to use all of the hurtful remarks that had crossed her mind, the ones she’d been waiting to use. Never got to see your face scrunch up at said words. It just wasn’t pleasing.

But then why couldn't she stop? Why did she keep poking, prodding, testing to see how far you'd bend before you finally broke?

Suddenly, a lightbulb crackled in her mind.

"Do you— do you want me to leave?" you asked softly, pulling her from her thoughts, eyes downcast. Sevika stared at you, the usual sharpness in her expression giving way to something unreadable.

"…What?"

"...If I'm that much of a bother, l'll go." Your voice cracked, but you didn't look up. "I-I don't want to get in your way anymore."

Something in her chest twisted, something dark. Darker than she’d care to admit. She leaned forward, her mechanical arm resting heavily on the table. "Don't be stupid." she said, her tone gruff but quieter than before.

You blinked up at her, confused.

"You're not going anywhere," she muttered, blinking slowly. "Just... don't make a habit of spilling my drinks, yeah?" You nod quickly, a faint, shaky smile pulling at the corners of your lips. Maybe she had been wrong about you before, maybe you’ve given her a challenge after all.

She knew how to break you.

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist to be notified whenever i post, xx

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[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

also, something crucially important is that you can let go of what someone did without forgiving them. functionally, it’s practically identical to forgiving someone who you don’t keep in your life anymore (be that by your choice, theirs, or merely circumstances), bc it’s only in your own head either way. you’re not going to hit this person up to say you forgive them if you don’t want to keep that connection open, and you’re not going to hit them up to say you’ve moved on and you’re letting go, either. the only difference, truly, is that choosing to let go instead of forgive the other person centers YOU over them.

if someone isn’t in your life anymore, it doesn’t really matter to them if you privately and internally forgive them or not, nor does it matter to them if you let go or hold on. it can’t matter to them when they can’t know what your decision is. when people say you need forgiveness for your peace, what they actually mean is that you need to let go of what happened and not hold on to anger or pain or sorrow. but forgiveness isn’t necessary to let go of all that stuff.

i’ll never forgive my first two exes for what they did to me, one of them having been overtly abusive (to the point that after breaking up with me, she manipulated my next gf into breaking up with me too so she could lure me back in, and it worked) and the other having been more mild than her younger counterpart but she was simply 18 dating a 14-year-old and expecting her 14-year-old partner to act her age, which was 4 years older than my age at that time. both of these girls, now women, hurt me immensely. and i still have work to do to uncover exactly how much they hurt me and what i can do to keep their effect on me from affecting others around me, through me… but i HAVE let go. i can’t hold that anger and pain and sorrow from 10 years ago anymore. i can’t change the fact that they did what they did to me. i can only tell myself that i refuse to let them continue holding power over me, and release that power by letting go of what they did and their presence in my mind. i did this quite a while ago, when one of them texted me a long rambly message and, instead of telling her how fucked up she was for dating someone 4 years younger than her at 18 and expecting me to act like someone her age, i just told her she had the wrong number and then blocked her. this was about 5 years ago now. at that moment i realised that i didn’t want to be miserable like that. she had held onto whatever hurt she got out of our relationship for like 5 years at that point, to the point she couldn’t be in the room when a movie we both used to love came on and restrain herself from sending me a text, wailing as a wounded animal. i didn’t want that kind of future.

i still think about them both, but i’m over being miserable about it. i have shit to unpack but when i’m done, i’ll be done. i’m not trying to wallow in that. THAT’S what letting go and protecting your peace is about. that’s the core of it. you can choose to forgive them, or you can choose not to, but you can’t wallow in your pain. it’s hard, but you have to let it go. it’ll only burn you more if you hold on.

it’s not about forgiveness. that part is completely optional. it’s about release

Think I used to get bogged down in “do I forgive this person” “do I even out the scales” “should I stand my ground” but really the question I should be asking is “what would be better for me” bc really. What would be better for me in the long term. What would stay true to my self respect and boundaries and values? What would provide the best outcome? What would make the most of our time? Sometimes that’s forgiveness and sometimes it’s not and I don’t think either route is necessarily morally superior to the other so long as it minimizes harm and is fair while also prioritizing your happiness

[arliedraws]

Another question about Sirius' past, do you like it? Or is there something you would change about it Prongsfoot doesn't count that could make Sirius' life more meaningful or more complex?

Hmm… I do like it, but I personally don’t share the interpretation that he was physically abused by his family. There’s a tendency to overlook the power of emotional abuse/neglect. While I never experienced that myself, a number of my friends grew up with parents who fucked them up with conditional love.

I think I like the idea that Sirius grew up in a household where the expectations of him high and incredibly strict. Even if he were to do everything “right,” he still wouldn’t do anything right. Do you know what I mean? I see his parents as constantly criticizing him, constantly letting him know, “This is not how the Black heir behaves” or “eats his food.” Imagine not even being able to sit quietly without someone pointing out that you should be doing it differently. The way you are is never good enough. And then there’s your little brother who seems to do everything right, and they tell you, “See? Look at Regulus. Why can’t you be more like him?”

The best part about this? How can you explain to someone that you can’t stand being home? Your parents ‘love’ you in their awful way, but they never hurt you. They give you expensive gifts. They feed you and dress you. So Sirius keeps it to himself. Especially when you’ve got a friend who turns into a werewolf once a month, what’s there to complain about? You’re intelligent, handsome, charming. I can’t imagine Sirius would admit to anyone that it kills him that his parents are ashamed of him no matter how hard he tried to get them to love him and who he is. Watching my friends work through the same shit is heartbreaking (and also, none of them were imprisoned for having their best friends murdered lol).

I don’t think there’s much I would change since I think it fits him so well and explains his devotion to James—he can be anything he wants, and James loves him unconditionally. So Sirius loves James unconditionally. And that, of course, can create a different sort of beast, haha, but that’s another subject. I do think this devotion is canon—whether or not you consider it platonic or romantic.

The thing I wish we knew more about was what sort of magic he was good at. This isn’t that important—I just want to know. Was he an Ancient Runes guy? Was he good at Potions? Really good at Charms?

[golvio]

Finally got around to seeing all of Apotheosis’ new endings, and I’m still sitting with it days later.

OG Apotheosis was among the bottom of my Princess ranking list since I guess I’m not into the whole Domination bit as some other prople, though I figured there was more to her based on what was already there. However, I wasn’t ready to have my suspicions confirmed in such a viscerally upsetting way in the Paranoid version of the “make her feel what you felt” ending. Like…as initially satisfying as finally forcing her to stop hurting you felt, it stopped feeling like a victory when you actually saw what you’d done to her. You stop feeling like a helpless victim when you understand just how hollow she’d felt inside despite her boasts and your perception of her as untouchable and unstoppable helped reinforce this armor she’d built around herself.

She may have cruelly lorded over you to compensate for her own feelings of helplessness back when she was at your mercy, but you were the one who gave up and ceded all control to her in the first place. Your relationship is a conversation, not a one-sided Pygmalian molding of an empty blank slate, and the two of you built that abusive relationship and unbalanced power dynamic together. On one hand, the prison of your own mind within the role you assigned yourself is far harder to escape than any physical jail and can operate even in her absence, to the point where acting against its oppressive rules seems so impossible that it feels like “madness.” On the other hand, no one is actually keeping you there but you.

This ending and Fury’s “pacifist” ending feel like funhouse mirror reflections of each other—each hurts the other to try to force them to understand the harm they’ve caused and get an apology, but by hurting each other they diminish each other, by hurting each other they hurt themselves. Becoming the warden of the jail where you’re also held prisoner can only give you the illusion of control and freedom, at best. Any “victory” in such a power struggle, no matter how initially triumphant, is ultimately a Pyrrhic one.

And then there’s the “Grace” ending. As much as she’d hurt you, in her last moments, instead of selfishly clutching you to herself tighter for comfort, she hurls you towards the exit, giving you a single chance for a mad, impossible dash towards freedom. She didn’t have to do that, and ultimately there was no point in doing that because the hole she opened sealed itself back up before you could reach it, but she still did it. Despite her embracing her role as unstoppable, untouchable goddess to flee from the memory of her original weak, vulnerable self, deep down she didn’t actually want to hurt you. She missed you and wanted to be with you again, but since all she knew was domination and subjugation, she only knew how to express that through trying to paternalistically control you. When the chips were down and she was being reassimilated into the Cosmic Spaghetti of Shifty’s incomplete form, she finally relinquished control and was able to express her true feelings selflessly.

That…gave me some very conflicting feelings. Don’t get me wrong, I love when finding out more about characters I initially disliked makes me feel all conflicted. It’s just…a lot. Woof.

There’s also this theme of being “trapped inside yourself,” in this case literally when it comes to two fragments of gods living out an allegory for their own imprisonment. It may be true that the Vessels are only incomplete pieces of The Shifting Mound who weren’t meant to function on their own, but Shifty herself is so vast and all-encompassing that each of her pieces is complex enough to be a functioning individual in her own right, which is especially true of the Chapter 3+ Princesses, who’ve developed so much from their experiences that they feel much more like “real,” multifaceted people. If you find Tower/Apotheosis first, then reach Shifty’s heart, the Princess you find there is the version of the Heart that feels most like she’s her own person separate from Shifty, and rejects Shifty’s idea of godhood. Her rejection of “labels” after her being constrained by Shifty’s parameters feels a lot more meaningful as a result.

On top of that…now you understand what it feels to be trapped inside of a “bigger, more Important” version of yourself. If The Long Quiet is you, then your godly meta-body is also the prison that’s keeping both the conscious, individual, mortal You trapped along with the Princess. It’s not like you can just get up and leave because you have no conscious control over this part of yourself. And when you do wake up, you risk losing yourself as you are now to integrate into that greater whole. Is that really worth it, or is there another way that doesn’t require giving up your individual existence? It’s like the flipside of The Empty Cup, too, in terms of foreshadowing the possible “Third Way” you can escape without embracing godhood and staying trapped within yourself, within the role you built up for yourself.

[cry4mina]

DYWTYLM? - Part 8

Take Me Back to Eden - Mina x Fem!reader

Word count: 8k

Angst/Fluff

Summary: Reader cooperates with authorities to trap Nayeon so they can lock her away for good but nayeon has other plans. Mina shows up for you in ways you never thought possible, solidifying your relationship and giving you reinforcement for the idea you already had.

TW: mentions of food, abusive partners, Nayeon is actually insane…death, knives, blood, suggestive moments, angst angst angst.

A/N: I was dragging my feet bc like only one more part after this and it’s basically an epilogue 😭 i fr love this series so much and I know I talk about it constantly but it’s just bc I’m just so proud of it. Thank you for taking the time to read it and I hope you all have a lovely day🖤🖤

A deep breath before entering the familiar building you used to call home, you look back to make sure the police are in their positions in the unmarked cars they drove over in to not tip off Nayeon.

A quick thumbs up to them before shifting your attention over to Mina who is in the passenger seat of your car. Parked in its usual spot, you can see her fidgeting and bitting her nails…she’s just as fearful as you are.

The worry in her eyes was very clear, even from a distance. Distraught over this plan you had concocted with the law enforcement to trap Nayeon and arrest her.

It won’t stop if you don’t stop it.

You are who she want and the sense of responsibility that you feel to protect those you care about is strong. Mina already got caught in the crosshairs…you couldn’t bare it if someone else was hurt by her.

Nayeon waiting for you in the apartment that held all the memories, good, bad, ugly, and even worse - the ones that weren’t yours too. All the energy that was trapped in that space, if the walls could talk, they would scream bloody murder.

9:45pm is when the cops were going to move in on the apartment, you just needed to keep her distracted while they moved into the building…you could do that. Looking down at your phone to check the time, it was 9:29pm already. Distracting her for 15 minutes didn’t seem like too big of a task but the fear of the unknown looms over your head.

What would she do or say while you were in front of her?

Another deep breath, you silently enter the building and make your way to the elevator.

It takes forever to get to your floor, the slow pull of gravity adds to your anxiety as the numbers go up,

1.

2.

3.

Until finally you’re on the floor where this began…and where it was about to end.

Flashes of everything that had happen haze over your mind’s eye, showing memory after memory of what had taken place over the last month.

The note.

The text messages.

The rock through the window.

The banquet.

The hospital.

Everything she had put you through, now about to come to a head as you sulk down the hallway and to the wood that separated you from whatever would happen next.

The front door is intimidating, feeling the same rush of emotions as the first time you came back to this place after you found out about Nayeon cheating on you…but in no way did you think it would turn into this…nightmare.

It was a full blown terror now, seeing who she truly was, her true colors…it was all still so disorienting, even with the time apart. Having a hard time believing this is who she was even though you saw it for yourself.

You watched as she tried to take away your happiness for her own gain, you watched as she selfishly almost murdered not only you, but Mina…and what she did to Jihyo and the people she supposedly loved…all of you put in harms way.

A violent narcissistic temper tantrum was all it was and at the cost of all her relationships.

Taking another deep breath, wincing at the broken and bruised ribs, you take your second to calm down. Needing to keep her here and calm was the biggest thing so the police could do their job.

It’s hard to remain neutral when all you want to do is lash out at her, tell her that she will never be anything to you anymore but you know she’s not going to listen…she hasn’t listened the last few times you’ve said it, you suspect she would only be worse this time.

Wrapping your hand around the knob, you open the door- the creak of the hinges only adds to the tension already built up in your body.

Stepping inside, Nayeon is waiting for you by the counter, smiling and giddy, bouncing in her place with little happy movements- the exact opposite of that you were feeling.

“Welcome home, baby!” Walking towards you with her arms spread to hug you.

Flinching at the action, you take a step back and lift your hands to shield yourself from whatever she might do.

Nayeon stops in her tracks, sniffling and pursing her lips. Her brows furrow harshly, smacking her lips and going back over to the counter where she was when you walked in.

“Are you scared of me, baby?” The pain and sorrow reflected in her question rings through your bones, a dull ache that made its way down your body.

“You know the only reason I’m here is because you threatened Momo and Dahyun…and don’t call me baby.” anger filled words with the sharpest inflection, spewing venom towards the snake.

Nayeon lets out one chuckle, it’s evil in nature and aggressive.

“I figured that was the only way to get you here…Sorry about your little girlfriend. I know you’re probably mad at me for that, but you’ll forgive me in time. You will see that you and I are meant for each other.” wincing as she walks over to the couch, a predator who didn’t feel threatened finding a place to perch.

Nayeon plops into her usual spot and pats the seat next to her, looking you in the eyes to see if they have softened for her the way they used to.

Crossing your arms, the rage swells into fury.

“How dare you?…How can you possibly think that I would ever come back to you after everything you’ve done?!” Voice raising at every syllable.

“You cheated on me, stalked me, threatened to harm people I care about, you pointed a fucking gun at my face, you shot Mina, trashed my apartment, and you think that I’m going to what…just crawl back to you, Nayeon?! You’re fucking delusional!” Screaming at her, releasing every ounce of hatred you had.

A laugh that echoed the sound of pure hell added fuel to the fire the moment it left her lips. Nayeon stood up and walked over to the counter again.

“You don’t have a choice, baby! You loved me once…and you can love me again. Either you stay here with me…” unsheathing a large kitchen knife from the butcher block on the counter.

“Or you lose everyone you love and not just M-Mina…” Nayeon chokes on her name, a single tear falls from her eye.

The admission of her intent to kill only swells your rage more, the fire in your veins fueling every poison laced sentence you spit in her direction.

“Don’t you dare say her fucking name, Nayeon! You don’t get to play sad for the things YOU did…I’m not agreeing to anything you want, Nayeon. Not now, not ever.” Clenching your jaw while trying to wait out the clock but you’re getting more restless by the second.

Nayeon slides a piece of paper over to you, knife still in hand - a silent threat.

It’s a marriage certificate with her name and yours written on it.

“You sign this…” clicking a pen open and placing it next to the contract.

“Or I will take everything and everyone you love away from you…it’s your choice.”

The calmness she has about her is an eerie cockiness, batting her big brown eyes at you like it would make a difference.

Emotional whiplash, the bounce between insanity and the Nayeon you fell in love with makes your chest hurt.

You’re disgusted by her, her true colors are showing in a way that paints her in the worst light and her soft attempts to show you that the gentle part of her still exists.

Looking over at the clock, the time reads 9:40pm…only 5 more minutes. You just needed to keep her here for only 5 more minutes.

Picking up the paper and scanning it over, you look up at her to see the ring you purchased sitting on her finger…The pear shaped diamond in the middle with little diamonds laid into a rose gold band.

The one you bought planning to propose… the one you showed her after you found out about Jihyo…your face twists in disgust.

Pinching the paper at the top, you are sure to look right in her eyes and you rip it right down the center, tossing it mindlessly to the floor.

“Hear me when I say this, Nayeon…I will never marry you. In fact, the most peace I have ever felt was when Jihyo told me she shot you and that you were dead. For that day, I was completely and totally fine. You have terrorized me long enough.” Voice getting shaky as the fear clings to you, chest tightening with each word.

“Look at the lengths you’ve gone…look at how much worse it actually is. You’ve hurt more than just me in this, you’ve hurt Mina, Jihyo, and every other member as well…”

“Had you actually been the person you showed me you were, we could’ve had it all…but you aren’t and you never were…you never will be that and I do not want anything to do with you.” Hearing the words leave your mouth was healing in a way, something you had said to her previously, but she failed to understand.

“I already took her from you. Mina is gone, Y/n. So who do you have now? You need me!” Watching as she gripped the knife like she was trying to strangle it teeth clenched and muscles flexing and her own anger boils over…she’s about to crack.

“SHE STOLE YOU FROM ME SO I TOOK HER FROM YOU! SHE CAN’T HAVE YOU LIKE I’VE HAD YOU!” Slamming her fists down, shaking the counter and everything on it, huffing and breathing heavy while tries to expel the hatred of the one who “stole” you.

Nayeon winces at her own wounds before cackling manically and taking a step towards you, she pulls the knife up over her head and swings down at you.

Dodging the blade, you push her back against the counter.

The shriek released from her was hard to hear, the physical and emotional pain she was going through…you were there too but in a very different light.

“Nayeon! Stop this!” Backing up towards the door, reaching for the knob.

“Don’t you DARE fucking LEAVE! I ruined my LIFE FOR YOU! FOR US!” Another swing of the knife, her heaving breath filling the room as she continues to slash in your direction.

“I’ve been gone this entire time! You have done nothing but make my life a living hell! Put the fucking knife down!” Managing to maneuver around her swings quickly, expertly avoiding the sharp slashes as they cut through the air.

Fear takes over, terrified at the attempts to harm you again. How could it be so easy for her to just attack you like this? Grappling with the extent she would go to get what she wanted, you can’t understand even now how she would be so willing to harm you.

Managing to gain a little distance from her, you watch as her arm cocks back. Dropping to the floor you hear this whistle of the knife and a loud thud in the wall behind you.

The blade sticks into the wall, wobbling from the sheer force she threw it with.

Clock reading 9:43pm - you just needed to get through 2 more minutes and everything would be fine.

“YOU. ARE. MINE.” Throwing anything she can get her hands on at you.

Coffee pot, pans, silverware, the crystal vase…everything.

Dodging most things being pelted at you, the crystal vase hits your back - shattering and scattering all over the floor, a few shards imbedded in your flesh.

Sucking air between your teeth, you reach down to try and shakily pull the shards you can see out. The sound of the blood covered crystal hitting the floor shocks Nayeon out of this jealous filled rage.

“Oh my god…baby, I’m…I’m so sorry.” Rushing over to you with a towel to try and stop your bleeding.

Flinching on her approach, you take a fearful step away from her.

“Stop! Don’t touch me!” Tears now spilling, you move and the shards you can’t reach dig deeper into your side, torturously shredding you from the inside.

“P-please let me help you…” Nayeon is crying and sulking at her own mess, the craziness behind her eyes is still very present.

“No! I said don’t touch me!” sobbing as the terror sinks deeper.

Nayeon suddenly runs at you, swinging her fists violently. She manages to land a few punched on your face and ribs. The pain erupts from your chest, crying out into the living room where your illusion of happiness died.

Not letting you fall to the ground, she holds you up and drags you to the couch only to throw you down on it.

Straddling you, she wraps her hands around your throat and squeezes. Air being immediately cut off, you fight to get her off you.

“If you won’t be with me, then you won’t fucking be with anyone!” Hissed in your face as her digits tighten around your throat.

Fighting with every ounce of strength you have, you attempt to tell her to get off you but her grip is too tight. Tugging and pulling on her fingers, you grasp at her face and arms trying to just breath.

Vision is fading to black, you can feel the blood in your head trying to find a way out - tasting blood in your mouth…was this really it?

What about Mina? Thought to yourself…what about the life you could build with her. Her face flashes in your minds eye, you need to live for her…you can’t give up just yet.

Allowing your body to go limp, you lay still when you feel Nayeon’s hands retract. She starts bawling her eyes out, laying her head on your chest with her hands over her face.

“What have I done?…what the fuck have I done?!” Feeling her body shake on top of you while she sobbed into you.

Bawling your hand up into a tightly woven fist, you swing, knocking her clean off you and onto the coffee table - causing the glass top to break underneath her.

Trying to stand and catch your breath, there’s a heavy knock at the door.

Nayeon stands up, dripping blood from her back - panicking, eyes darting around to try and find her escape.

“You aren’t getting away this time, Nayeon!” Horsely yelled at her through the knocking.

Her face turns beat read, a fury like you’ve never seen before.

She walks over to the kitchen and pulls the knife out of the wall with a sharp jolt - never letting her eyes leave you.

Taking a step towards you, she hears the rattle of the door again.

“OPEN UP, IM NAYEON! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!” The burly sheriff yells, you hear the battering ram slam into the door - it budges slightly.

Nayeon runs at you, wrapping her arm around your throat to get you in her grasps. She places the blade on your throat and is waiting for the door to break.

The wood explodes out of the frame, a million splinters waiting to be had across the floor as the three police men file in, guns drawn and ready to fire.

The problem being you in the way, she was using you as a human shield.

“DROP THE KNIFE!” The sherif yelled, she did not comply.

“Put your guns down or I’ll slice her throat and let her bleed out.” Calmly, almost gentle in nature. How can she have such a calm demeanor, you can feel her heart beating out of her chest as she tugs you even closer to her, metal still to the skin of your throat.

Panic set into you, the adrenaline was too much and your heart was racing. Feeling the droplets of blood gather through the slices and drip down your side, slithering down your body - you hear a familiar voice breaking the concentration of keeping Nayeon’s knife off your skin.

“Nayeon…put the knife down!” An angelic voice rings from behind the men.

Hearting filling with dread as you break out in a cold sweat. No! Why is she here?! She can’t be in this dangerous situation.

“No!” You shouted past the officers.

“Don’t come in here!” Nayeon tightens her grip again, pulling you to get you to stop fighting her grasp.

Already fighting her way in, Nayeon gasps when she sees Mina slowly making her way into the room, tightening her grip on you and scooting the knife up higher on your throat.

Feeling the blade start to separate your top layer of skin, a single drop of crimson descends your throat, the police see this and take aim at Nayeon.

“Mina…W-what? H-how did you?” Mina simply raises her hand at Nayeon.

“Nayeon, let Y/n go…you know this isn’t what you want.” Her voice is so soft…and sweet…this is an awful time to swoon but you can’t help it.

Willingly putting herself in harms way to try and help you, to get you out of this situation. She steps in front of the officers and tries to defuse this.

“You don’t fucking know what I want, Mina! I wanted you dead and out of the picture but it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want!”

Nayeon’s tight grip of you faulters, you wedge your fingers under hers and push them a few centimeters away from your skin so the knife isn’t in contact with you anymore.

This is enough to distract her from everyone else, pushing against you to bring it closer to your throat to keep her leverage.

The push and pull ensues and no one makes a single move, cops won’t shoot because you’re in front of her, Mina is crying and begging for Nayeon to stop when it dawns on you…

“N-Nayeon! If you love me like you say you do…then put the knife down!” Strained and tired, the please escape you.

Nayeon hesitates, her grip loosens for a moment and you take the opportunity to break free - using her own strength against her and launching her back against the window, causing it to break.

Running to Mina, you wrap your arms around her. Safety with a beautiful face, you fight your sobs in the grips of her.

This wasn’t over yet.

“If you are with her…” Nayeon starts “Then I have nothing to be here for…” slamming the hilt of the knife into the already cracked window - the spill of the glass furthers everyone’s focus on her. There is an echo of the glass hitting the side walk down below.

Whipping around, you see Nayeon sit on the window sill, the cops are shouting and you take a massive step towards her.

“Get off the window! Now!” The men yell, but her focus remains on only you.

“Y/n, I love you…I’m sorry.”

“STOP!” Yelled, tearing your vocal cord with the shear force of the scream.

Everyone freezes, silence fills the room.

“Don’t do this, Nayeon. Please.” Begging through tears, you can feel Minas energy shift.

Taking another step forward, you watch how Nayeon is analyzing you…only one way to save this, only one way to save her…not wanting her to take this route out, you were going to see this through.

“Nayeonnie…please don’t do this…if you love me, you won’t do this…” reaching a hand out to her, trying to get her to co-operate by using her own tactics against her.

The old nickname rings through the room, hitting her ears and creating a tense moment of old memories. A sob breaks from her chest, reaching for your hand and locking her fingers with yours.

“Come on, let’s go…we can figure it out together, like we always do…right, baby?” This seems to be working, she’s got her hand in yours, hyperventilating as the ocean pours out from her eyes.

“Don’t you get it, Y/n?” Nayeon sniffles.

“There is no out.” Swinging the knife and slicing you across the chest violently, the unexpected movement as you thought you had her in your grasps by giving her what she wanted.

A loud boom claps through the room as the warm crimson spills out from your skin, it’s a surface wound - thankfully but the blood is still ever flowing.

Looking at Nayeon and watching it in slow motion as the blood spilled from her own chest…her knees hit the ground, dropping the knife on her way and toppled over onto her side - gasping for air and coughing up her own life force.

Instinctually, you rush over to her and places your hand over her would to keep the blood in. The cops call an ambulance, and you try to hold in the tears now that the danger has been quelled.

“Y/n?” Choked out between wheezes and coughs.

“Yeah?” Sadness in the tone of your reply, you never wanted it to come to this…you wanted her to be held accountable but…this is…not what you imagined.

“Can I…ask you…something?” Her voice getting quieter as the sentence carries on.

Nodding your head, a tear breaks free from your eyes.

“Do you believe we can turn into different people?” Almost a whisper this time.

“I watched it happen to you…” replied through the tightness of your throat and the ache of what was happening in front of you.

“Do you wish that you loved me?”

The questions burns in your ears, stinging it’s way down your neck to your chest and down to your stomach.

“…No. I wish I didn’t.” Words hitching as you sniffle through them.

Nayeon lets out a soft chuckle, lifting her had with the rest of the energy she had to wipe the tears from your eyes.

“It’s been so long since I’ve touched your face, I forgot what it feels like…” tears of her own spilling as she chokes on more of her own blood.

“I wish I never reminded myself…I tried to fix it all but…nothing seemed to help.” Breathed through the trauma she had endured throughout this night.

“I’m sorry my love…I’ll be better in the next life.” Coughing and hacking after the sentence only for her body to go limp in your arms, eyes open but staring at nothing as she takes her last and final breath.

Time is frozen for you and you only, the cops lift you from her and move you over to Mina who is still crying and waiting for you with open arms.

“Get her out of here!” The cop instructs Mina, she guides to the door and into the hallway.

“Let’s go downstairs and wait for the ambulance to get here, okay?” Staring at your hands, covered in Nayeon’s blood and seeing your own shirt soaked in a mixture of yours and hers…you come up with responses or even know what to speak out loud.

Mina takes the lead and takes you out of what once was your home, now only serving as a point as a headstone to the memory of Im Nayeon.

—

The sherif and first responders bring down the gurney with the body bag on it, packing it into the second ambulance and sending it off to the morgue.

The EMT responsible for stitching up your chest and removing the shards from your side mentioned to Mina that you were in a state of shock and should be okay in an hour or so, offering to let you sit on the tailgate of the vehicle until you were okay to drive.

Mina never left your side.

Not once since she had you again.

Phone vibrating next to you, rattling against the metal and startling both you and Mina. She picked up the phone, answering it quickly.

It’s Momo.

“Yeah, Y/n is okay. A few more stitches in her chest and she’s in shock but she’s okay…Mhm, yeah…” Mina looks at you with sad eyes, she was going to say it out loud.

“Momo, Dahyun…Nayeon is…Nayeon is dead.”

Silence.

“She was shot by one of the police officers. She tried to kill Y/n with a knife…it’s a lot, I know…Yeah we can meet you there once Y/n calms down a little more…okay…okay text me the address…alright I’ll see you soon. Bye.” Hanging up and sitting next to you.

Reaching over to Mina, you grab her left hand and lean your head on her shoulder. Wrapping her right arm around you, she just holds you closely. Giving you a forehead kiss and cooing that everything is okay now.

The only thing that felt okay, was her.

—

Mina hired people to clean up your apartment, paying the lease and moving you in with her. After a few weeks you and her both were mostly healed, ribs no longer broken…only the physical and emotional scars remain.

Though you lived together, most of your relationship was taking care of one another’s wounds and making sure the panic attacks had someone to combat them but what you really wanted was to build on the already solid foundation.

It was hard.

On both of you.

The girls came over every few days to check in, making sure that you both were doing okay. Momo called you every day, coming over most days of the week to cook for you and Mina.

Appreciating everything that everyone was doing to show up for you, there was a grey wash over you. Something you couldn’t explain, but it was noticeable to everyone…you weren’t as cheery and joy filled as you were…before.

Often waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, panicking from the nightmares of Nayeon holding a gun to your face or a knife to your throat - you would sob and Mina would hold you.

Three months of this was driving you crazy, never truly resting the way that you needed to, you drowned in your head and your thoughts - the flashbacks so unsettling that all you can do is sit still and hope they pass quickly while trying not to cry.

The lack of sleep caused you to not be present more often than not. Unable to hold a conversation for longer than 5 minutes or focus on a tv show, playing video games…food was uninteresting, skipping meals most days- it worried Mina more than she led on.

One particular night, after jolting out of sleep from a nightmare, you got up and put on a robe to cover your mostly naked body before strolling into the living room and wandering to the balcony. Taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs, just taking in the calmness of the night when you heard the door creak behind you - startling you.

Mina steps into the moonlight, still in just her panties.

“Mind if I join you?” The tiredness in her voice made you want to send her back to bed but you knew she was going through the same things you were, but she was trying to be strong about it for you.

Nodding your head, she walked over to sit in your lap, her legs horizontally across your thighs so she could lean into you. Her skin was cold against yours, even with the chill, you welcomed this contact with her.

Throwing part of the robe over her legs and covering her back with the other part as best you could, you both just sit in silence, keeping each other warm and enjoy the night sky together.

Looking up at Mina’s beautiful face, your eyes trace down her body to the scar where the bullet entered…your throat tightens, eyes watering as you bring your finger up and lightly trace it.

“I’m sorry…” choked out through the attempt to keep yourself from sobbing.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby.” Reassuring you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and slipping it up into your hair.

“If I had jus-“

“No.” Cutting you off before you could finish the sentence.

“You did everything you could do. She was the one who couldn’t respect that she made a mistake and took that out on you and I…that’s not your fault…that’s her fault.” there is a hitch in her breath that makes you hold her just a little bit tighter.

Tears streaming down both of your faces, she traces the long sliced scar across your own chest and you sigh.

“My reflection doesn’t smile back at me anymore.” Whispered through the silence of the night, followed by your sniffles and you trying to clear your throat.

The silence continues for a moment.

“Your reflection is missing out…Mine smiles back at me because of you.” matter of factly stated.

“Because of me?” throat closing as you speak the words out loud.

“Absolutely because of you. You are amazing, Y/n…you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner and so much more…you have shown me that even in the worst of times, life can still be great. Look at what we went through together! Look at all what we survived…together. I know that things have been a little rough after the fact, but we are still building…and my intention is to keep building…with you.” Lightly crying in the memory.

“You and I, we can get through anything.” Smiling through the tears she had.

“Y/n, I love you…” cupping your face with her hands and kissing you softly.

The warmth of her love radiated through you, evaporating any doubt or self blame you were having. It was nice not having to question if she was telling the truth or not. Every single display of love was in her actions, though this was the first time she actually said it out loud, you had known for a while.

Lips parting, she placed her forehead on yours, looking you in the eyes.

“Okay?” With a silly tone, eye wide trying to provoke you to giggle.

“Okay.” Smiled back at her.

Rocking in the chair together for a few minutes, you realize that this is what you always dreamed of. The fantasy of having someone who wouldn’t give up on you, the openness to be able to talk about what was bothering you…hope for the future…

Mina, this type of undying love….this was what you wanted.

“Hey, Mina?”

“Yes, my love?” Facing you to make sure you know that her attention was yours.

“I love you too.”

She rests her head on your shoulder and sighs, relaxing her body into yours. This brings a comfort to you that you can’t elaborate.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Feeling her voice reverberate in your chest as she asks.

“I would love to.” Planting a light peck on her forehead before resting your head there.

Continuing to sit calmly in the moonlight together, anticipating tomorrow as you calmly rock back and forth.

—

The brightness of the sun wakes you around 11am, calmly waking up for the first time in weeks. Mina is laying in your arms, still sleeping peacefully with her face in your chest. Not wanting to wake her just yet, you admire the calmness of the morning you’ve woken up to.

Mina shifts in her sleep, leaning into you more, and clinging to you even more. A small giggle erupts from you - feeling her smile into your skin, you stroke her hair.

“Good Morning, beautiful.”

“Good Morning, baby.” Her eyes still closed, tilting her head back and puckering her lips - asking you for a kiss.

Happily granting her wishes, you kiss her gently - a few soft sweet pecks before sitting up in bed. Nails tracing shapes on your lower back as you look over at her.

Bare faced and beaming up at you, you can’t help but think about how you got here. Everything that has transpired, all the heart ache and the worry…all of that leading up to this moment of waking up next to someone who would never dream of putting you through that.

In fact, she cares so much that she went through it with you…hand in hand.

Sighing, you lay back down with her, facing her and brushing a piece of hair out of her face just to tuck it behind her ear.

A bright gummy smile beamed at you sleepily, warmth in its light.

The sun couldn’t imagine the brightness or the warmth that she filled you with. Despite the scars and wounds you had both suffered together, she was still here…in the lowest point of your life she was a consistent ray of shining effervescent light.

“Do you know how special you are, Mina?” Tone turning serious for a moment, first thing in the morning.

“I could ask you the same question.” As she takes your hand off her face, softly kissing your palm before cuddling your arm.

The idea sprang into your head, something thought about in passing but too scared to focus on - you weren’t so scared anymore.

“Did you have anything planned for that date tonight?” Eyebrow raised and lips pursed.

“I was just about to ask what you wanted to do.”

“I’m…highjacking this date!” Jumping up and throwing on a pair of pants and a shirt.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Leaping after you, wrapping her hands around your neck and clinging to you.

“I just highjacked a date, Mina! I have to make it special if I’m stealing it from you!” Smirking at her.

“Anything with you is special.” Kissing from your neck up to your jaw, making you totally weak in the knees.

“M-Mina! Stop trying to seduce meeeee!” The way you whined at her brought out that beautiful smile again.

Grabbing your wallet off the dresser, you hand her one of your cards.

“Baby, why are you giving me your card?” Confusion in her tone and concern on her face.

“Tonight’s date is all on me. All of it. So, do me a favor…” wrapping your arms around her waist and scooting her back to the bed so she’s seated.

“Take my card, go get your nails done and get an outfit for tonight.” Kissing her one last time before heading towards the door.

“But-“

“No buts! Unless it’s yours, then yes…butts.” Blowing her a kiss and slipping out the door.

Her giggle follows you.

—

Getting yourself a new outfit for the date as you were still replacing everything that was destroyed.

A medium grey sweater that hugged you perfectly, some fitted black slacks and black dress shoes. Mina would go crazy seeing you in this and that’s what you wanted.

Walking back to the car, you try not to pay too much attention to what’s across the street from the store you were in.

You hadn’t been there…maybe you should go. You know the number of the plot…

Before you could argue with yourself further you were pulling into the dirt parking lot and stepping out of the car.

Walking down the isles and counting until you hit the one you knew it was at.

Taking a deep breath, you walk to the stone and read it.

~Im Nayeon~

~Forever in our hearts~

Fans had scattered the grave with wreaths, photocards, flowers and candles that had burnt out all their life force.

You were just happy none of the fans were here to see you visiting so you could have your peace in this moment.

The company did a very good job at covering up how it all happened, burying police reports and blaming it on a car accident.

JYP had been collecting letters sent to the company for you, the world not knowing what she put you through…they offer sympathy but it only caused you more suffering. You opted not to read them.

The online comments about you being with Mina were hard to swallow, everyone placing bets on who you’d be with next when they had no idea what you had already been through with Nayeon.

The world never knew what she was or who she was. A secret kept from everyone in order to protect the privacy of Twice and you while you all healed.

Staring for a minute, you drop your head and have a moment of silence with yourself.

The birds are chirping, the sun is bright and you were about to propose to your girlfriend tonight but you were here…somberly staring at the cold stone slab that Nayeon was buried under.

“I’m going to ask Mina to marry me today, Nayeon…I know that probably doesn’t sit well with you.” A dull whisper of wind pushes your hair out of your face as you sit down in front of her grave.

“What you and I had…it wasn’t love…it was never love…and I know that because what you put me through is something I would never put Mina through…I wouldn’t have put you through it either.” Eyes staring to well up in anger and sadness, tears falling and hitting your pant legs with a thick rhythmic thwap.

“But…Mina is exactly what I’ve always wanted…she’s what I thought you were.” Taking a deep breath as you carry on.

“It’s still so hard to wrap my brain around. How did you go from humming in the kitchen and trying to make my coffee perfect to…shooting her and stabbing me? And what you did to Jihyo? I just…” choking on your words, face twisting in discomfort.

“Not in this life or the next…Goodbye, Im Nayeon.” Taking a second to blink the pain from your eyes, another deep breath, you stand up and walk back to your car.

You’ve got some preparing to do.

—

Next to stop for flowers, and then you’ll be ready to go and pick up Mina from your shared apartment.

Though it hadn’t been long since the two of you had been together, it felt like a life time. There was nothing you were more sure about than marrying her.

Grabbing a bouquet of 2 dozen roses, you are officially ready to return back to your apartment.

Pulling into the parking lot and going up the stairs, you hear the shower running. Taking the moment where Mina was distracted, you set up the flowers in the living room. Frilling them out and making sure they were perfect.

Once that was done, you went into the room - removing your shirt and pants on the way and heading straight for the bathroom to join Mina.

Angelic singing echoing against the tile, her shadow behind the frosted glass washing her hair.

Stripping out of your underwear, you knock lightly on that glass.

“Room for one more?”

“Hmmmm, I suppose I could make room.” Winking before stepping to the side and letting you into the drizzle of the shower head.

—

Mina stayed in the bathroom to dry her hair and style it while you went and got ready in the room. Slipping on your new slacks, you grab the sweater and slide it on before brushing it out as a nervous tick.

A spray of the sandalwood perfume you like and a watch, you’re almost ready to go.

Sneaking over to your sock drawer in the dresser and pulling out a little suede box and stuffing it in your pocket quickly.

“I want to surprise you with the dress I got so go to the living room when you’re finished!” Shouted with excitement.

“Yes Ma’am, leaving now.” Stepping out of the room and closing the door.

Thinking it is a little chilly outside, you should probably grab your jacket. There was a charcoal grey peacoat you had that would match, and hand an inner pocket to hide the ring.

Putting the jacket on, you tug the ring out of your back pocket and pop the box open.

It’s perfect.

An oval diamond on a platinum band with two smaller diamonds framing the one in the middle, classy and elegant just like her.

Closing the box, you put it in your jacket and take a deep breath. Nerves getting the better of you as you wait.

It didn’t take long for Mina to emerge from the bedroom. Hearing the door open, you turn your head to see your beautiful girlfriend.

Holy.

Shit.

A bright candy apple red cocktail dress, hair done in large beach waves with a nude lip. The embodiment of heaven blessing you with her presence, elegant and sexy…you were very lucky for so many reasons and very aware of that.

“Oh, wow…” standing up immediately, you walk over to her - jaw to the floor.

Suddenly Mina gasps at the roses set up for her on the coffee table.

“Honey! These are so beautiful!” Running over to them to stick her nose in them and take a deep whiff of their fragrance.

“Thank you.” The eyes she’s giving you sends a chill, jaw still on the floor at her in this dress.

“Can you help me?” Pointing to her back and turning around to reveal her zipper half way down.

Oh, the nerves persist, rattling you to your core. Hands shakily taking the small zipper and tugging it up, you release the metal and hear it rattle.

“Are you shaking? Did you eat today?” Concern in her voice, she turns around quickly to face you, brows furrowed in worry.

“Yes, I did eat.” Sheepishly, trying not to make eye contact.

The warmth in your cheeks gives you away to her.

“Y/n L/n, are you blushing right now?” Her hands go to hips, the smirk she gives you makes you cover your eyes.

“You’re cute when you blush.” Reaching for your fingers to hold your hand.

“You might still make me nervous…” timidly expressed with a chuckle.

“Nervous?! We are just going to dinner, my love! No need to be nervous.” Kissing your cheek and grabbing her shoes to slip on.

Strapped black heels to finish the look off and a black clutch to match.

Catching her eyeing you while she fixes the straps on her shoes, you wink at her and taking the moment of separation to grab her long black jacket out of the closet.

“Thank you for getting my jacket baby, and can I just say…you clean up so well.” Winking back at you as you hold her coat open for her so she could easily put it on.

“Thank you,” kissing her and admiring her.

“Ready?”

Mina nods her head at you, you hold the door for her while she steps out and you’re off on your date.

—

Dinner was smooth, taking her to a fancy steak house around the corner for your apartment. The food was great, the atmosphere was quiet and the conversation was immaculate as always.

Unsure of how you were going to pop the question, you just let the night take you where ever it may.

A glass of wine or two and you were feeling less nervous than before, now it was just a matter of timing.

Unwilling to ask her in public, you tried to think about what you could do or where you could take her that would be romantic and still personal.

“Wow, the sunset looks really pretty tonight.” Pointed out to you as you left the restaurant.

“Do you want to go watch it at the park?” Perfect idea.

“I’d love that.” Smiling up at you as you set off.

The park only being a block away was a big win, especially with her in those shoes. Clinging to your arm the entire way there, you find a bench in front of a stream and watch as the sun goes down.

Mina’s head is resting on your shoulder, still holding onto your arm and sighing into relaxation.

“Hey, Mina?”

“Hm?”

“Well…” the nerves returned rapidly as you start your speech.

“You know you mean the world to me? You’re so kind and caring, intelligent, thoughtful…I really respect and admire the person you are.”

*Deep breath, keep going*.

“Everyday, even the days that wouldn’t classify as great, since I’ve met you, you’ve only added to my life. I’ve grown so much…I value myself more, and I finally know what love truly means. Through out the relationship we’ve built, you constantly show up for me…you are an amazing partner and friend.” Running out of breath, forgetting to inhale and exhale while you talk.

Mina is looking you in the eyes, tearing up as you continue.

“I would not have made it through…the situation we were in without you…and to be honest, I don’t want to know another day without you as my partner. You are everything I dreamed of and so so so much more.”

Standing up and kneeling down on one knee in the gravel, you pull the box out of your jacket, anxiously trembling as you pop it open in front of her.

Mina’s hands cover her mouth as she gasps in shock at the ring, the tears are now freely falling as she covers her entire face with them.

“Mina Sharon Myoui, w-will you marry me?” Quivering through the most important sentence of your life.

Mina is aggressively nodding her head yes, sniffling and choking back happy tears while she extends her left hand towards you.

Slipping her ring on her finger, you kiss her hand and stand up only for her to follow you in a massive hug, sobbing into your neck and squeezing you.

“You are everything to me.” Her tightened throat squeaked out.

Meeting you face to face, placing her hands on your cheeks and bringing you in for a kiss drenched in pure love.

Resting your foreheads together, you’re smiling at each other- holding each other and living right in that moment where you’re supposed to be.

This is what they talk about in movies. This is what the love songs are written about.

This is Eden.

“So, future Mrs. Myoui, what would you like to do for the rest of the evening?” Starting to walk home hand in hand, Mina’s ring finger sparkling in the moonlight.

“Anything.”

“Anything?” Eyebrows raised, she has something in mind.

“Mhm, what are you thinking?” Kicking a pebble on the street as you walk.

Mina can’t seem to shake the smile she has, you share that sentiment.

“I can think of a few things, actually.”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Well, I might’ve bought more than just this dress…and I’m going to be honest, I’ve been staring at you all night.” A glimmer in her eye, a look.

THE look.

“More than just the dress, huh? I’m intrigued.” raising an eyebrow at her.

“…it’s actually under the dress.” Casually dropping the information.

“Drinks before dessert?” as you turn the key to your apartment.

“Whatever you want, soon-to-be Mrs. Myoui.”

[khorneschosen]

Yeah dude most people are cunts about politics. Either you haven't been at this long or you are being purposely dense.

Most people don't even give you the benefit of treating others in good faith after you give them good faith. Frankly I don't have to treat you in good faith at all. And demanding it, is stretching that benevolence.

I gave the right stats, wrong name. I get my latin mixed up from time to time.

Here's the pdf

Enjoy not reading it in any great detail. Also another fun fact, the divide between women and men is the methods of murder used. Men are messy, women however prefer poison, and violence by proxy.

Interestingly, when a woman uses violence by proxy, we don't consider it statistically because technically she didn't kill her husband.

Then there is the sentencing and conviction gap between men and women as shown in the first statistics.

And then on top of that you have the sheer fact that if a woman wants to leave a man destitute, without home, car, money, children and everything else, all she has to do is divorce him and the courts will do that work for her. In short, right now a woman doesn't have to kill a man to take everything from him. Just marry him. Or just live with him for a certain amount of time.

Furthermore, you'll notice an interesting historical trend. When women were killing their husbands in greater numbers was when they had the least amount of protections from abusers and ability to safely leave. Now the situation is reversed where a man due to the Duluth model of domestic violence, a man is left in the spot where if he is abused he will be arrested. If he defends himself or his children he will be arrested, if he locks himself in a room he will be arrested. If his abuser hurts herself in abusing him, he will be arrested.

Don't like it? Start advocating for equal and fair courts that don't take account of gender or atleast stop advocating for the terrible policies you continue to do so.

So in closing why would you expect any other outcome? This btw is another case of pushing for a policy without concern for its outcomes.

Edit now that I have time to reply to you fully: I think I forgot to write a conclusion again so here it is.

The number of wives vs husbands doesn't actually deal with an issue of "validation of murder" as at no point will I say "murder is good" but that "your data is wrong" or that "pointing to the numbers of those murders don't actually address the point of which murder is validated."

To which I would also point out women have been shown statistically to more likely get away with their murder on a claim of self defense. Considering the conviction rate differences mentioned earlier, whether this claim was truthful or ad hoc after the act, remains a question, but does not change the overall fact that the system is more likely to convict a female murderer over a male one.

So your argument is untruthful, incorrectly applied, and wrong. Either way you look at it this was a bad move.

Also, an argument isn't valid or invalid by whether its made in good faith. What matters in debate is how convincing it is, in philosophy whether its true. Truth matters in our argument. Not whether I treat my opponent with respect he will not return in kind.

Good faith must be earned. Maybe you are a vaush fan, someone who treats everyone in the worst faith possible and then complains that they don't treat him in good faith, a good faith he has never close to earning.

Our system's issue isn't and hasn't been the for profit nature of it, but the government regulations. Because previously to the regulations it ran much more efficiently and effectively. But it was purposely mangled by people who vote like you. Because if you mangle a system to the point it doesn't function, then you can advocate for greater control and regulation. Succeed or fail you get what you want.

No its bait. It had nothing to do with the conversation. You could have picked self defense which has a better basis but you chose this.

Also whether you picked it knowingly you have more to say about feminism than about the healthcare debate. Whats more your arguments on healthcare are begging where as you speak authoritatively about feminism. Its clumsy and very transparent.

But I will play ball because Id rather deal with your strongholds and crush them rather lance some pointless boil.

Why destroy that which you don't hold strongly enough to defend?

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-metaphysics/

https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/feminism-epistemology/

Feel free to not read it aswell but frankly see the work it's based on is in the form of kant's critique of pure reason. All post modern philosophy requires the irrational base kant provides for their theories. From modern Christianity, to socialism, to feminism. All of them cite his discrediting of reason in the formation of their philosophy.

Did you not know? Rationality is a tool of male oppression according to feminism.

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/227633936_Gendered_Rationality_A_Genealogical_Exploration_of_the_Philosophical_and_Sociological_Conceptions_of_Rationality_Masculinity_and_Organization

I would prefer primary citations but Im on mobile and the primary works are harder to find as I dont typically read them.

A discussion about the conflict in our ideas. Should we let our abstractions fight in an attempt to gain supremacy over each other while we are just indifferent observers? The standards of knowing whether you are right or wrong are deeply important. How do you know if you are wrong? I have my standard it's philosophical and its existence exists. Disprove that and everything else follows.

Can data be manipulated?

Also till this exact second I thought I was debating a rather effeminate man. Your race didn't come up in how you write.

And how many children are without a parent because of denied medical care, homelessness, police brutality, etc.

If you're going to use "but they have children", be consistent.

[queenofviolenceandnerds]

~~Jason Todd Headcannons~~

Tw- mentions of abuse

•abnormally tall

•I’m talking he was a giant before Lazarus pit

•that only enhanced his height

•6’8-6’11 height range

•any scars he has now faintly glow green in the dark, alongside his eyes

•hair dye won’t stick to the white tuft

•the Lazarus pit messed him up biologically, I’m talking like he can’t get cold

•his skin literally radiates with heat it’s alarming

•due to this he burns off stuff faster so he has a higher metabolism and most medicine doesn’t work or last very long

•his canines are slightly sharpened

•like not full fangs but noticeable point to them

•Greek 100%

•he was raised catholic

•you could cut paper with how chiseled his jawline and cheekbones are

•when Bruce first took him in the media thought he was his biological son by how much this boy looks like him

•book nerd

•like Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe, all the classic authors he loves

•wears reading glasses

•his nails are painted black most of the time

•will wear makeup. Like to cover his scars or guyliner

•probably has his ears pierced

•secret kpop Stan

•big fan of BLACKPINK and ATEEZ

•he has tattoos (Damian designed them)

•acts like he hates kids but he loves them, babies especially, but he’s too scared he’ll hurt them

•bilingual king

•learns languages for fun or to insult Bruce without him knowing

•the worst to play games with

•he will dominate at monopoly

•because of him (*cough* dicks fault *cough*) uno is banned from the manner

•the only person Alfred allows to use the kitchen

•bakes amazing deserts (he has a sweet tooth)

•also makes Greek dishes

•he likes art (he’s not as good as Damian but he can draw)

•King of any video game

•has a good singing voice but hides it (he sounds like Steven Rodriguez)

•doesn’t drink

•however he does smoke

•when he first came back to life he smoked to get over everything, now he only does it whenever he’s stressed

•favorite artist is Paris Paloma

•he cried when he listened to Labour for the first time

•he has a stutter from being hit by the Joker, so he tends not to talk, when he does it’s in broken English bc he doesn’t want anyone to know about it :(

•rbf 10000000+%

•the whole batfam are the masters at rbf

•freckles

•struggled with body dysmorphia and phantom pain

Welp that’s all I got so far. Comment any hc’s yall have

[buckandbobbyweek]

FAQ

What is Buck and Bobby week?

This is a week dedicated to Buck and Bobby from 911 and celebrating their father-son relationship. While a popular relationship, it's not a relationship that people often write about. So, with this event, we make sure there are plenty of new fic for us Buck & Bobby lovers!

What is the schedule?

Today (January 4th) the poll to vote for which month to fo Buck & Bobby week went up and goes for 7 days.

After there will be a poll to determine which week it will be, also running for 7 days.

Once we have a date, I will start working on a form where you can submit prompts and share this. This will be open for around a month. Less depending on how much time is left until the chosen date.

Once the form is closed, I will make a new form where you can vote for your favorite prompts. In the end we need 21 word/trope prompts (example: hugs, navy seal buck, hurt/comfort) and 10 sentence prompts (example: "did you steal my hoodie?", "what do you think you're doing?", "have you eaten yet?")

Depending on how many prompts and the results of votes, there could be a third form with the winning prompts to narrow it down more.

Then I'll make a post with the winning prompts and you can start writing!

And then we'll have Buck and Bobby week :)

Are there any rules?

AI is NOT allowed. Use of AI will end with your posts removed from the AO3 collection and being blocked on Tumblr. AI is theft.

This is to celebrate the father-son relationship between Buck and Bobby, NOT romantically. Romantic fics between them will not be included or reposted.

No abuse or SA taking place between Buck and Bobby. You can for other characters, but PLEASE tag accordingly! Use warning in both the warning section and the tags. I also recommend putting these warnings in an author's note and while posting on Tumblr. These are topics a lot of people want to avoid.

If a fic includes bashing of other characters, please tag accordingly as well. And, obviously, no Buck or Bobby bashing. (It would be preferable no bashing at all, but I'm not going to forbid or restrict you from writing it if you want to.)

No stealing, duh

I can't think of anything else, I try not to limit things. If you have a suggestion, let me know.

Do I have to sign up?

Nope. You can just post when it's time. Of course it's fun to let people know you're participating, but that's completely your own choice.

Can I be anonymous?

Sure! I do have to say a lot of people avoid anonymous fics because a lot of times they're very triggering or hateful to people. But if you don't feel comfortable using a username, it's a great way to still share your work. And I'm sure plenty of people still read anonymous fics.

Do I have to do all days?

Nope. While that is the most fun, if there's only one day you have time or inspiration for, that's amazing as well. You can skip days you don't want to do. It's completely up to you.

Is it limited to fics?

It's not! You can use any form of creativity. Think of:

Art

Playlist

Video edit

Picture edit

Moodboard

Podfic

Poetry

Anything else creative you can think of.

Is there a minimum or maximum word count?

Nope. No restrictions here either. This means you can also submit snippets. Or a full on novel with 100k+ words. Every number is allowed :)

How do I get it into the AO3 collection?

The collection isn't created yet and will be around a month before the event. Once it's created you can find the option 'post to collections / challenges' right underneath 'associations'. In this you search for the name, which I'll post on here once it's created. Once your fic is posted it'll be added to the collection.

I've never posted on AO3 before and don't know how.

I'm planning on making a quick tutorial soon, either on here or on @911buddieweek in which I'll explain the meanings of each parts, like ratings and warnings and the most used meanings behind them. Keep an eye out! If you want to know before I post, you can send me a message.

I have a different question

Don't be afraid to send an ask or message! I'll try to get back to you ASAP. I don't have tumblr notifications on, but I'm chronically online so I'll hopefully see it quickly. (I do like in Europe so if you're not European we might have a different timezone. But you can send it any time you want and I'll see it when I wake up.)

I hope this is enough info! And I'm very excited :)

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]

"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."

"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."

"Don't say 'coochie'."

"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.

"Vagina."

And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.

The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.

"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."

Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."

"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."

Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."

The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.

"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."

Mark's grin is cocky.

"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."

Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.

"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.

"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."

"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."

"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.

"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."

"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.

But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.

"You okay?"

And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.

"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."

Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.

"Yeah, this is a mood setter."

"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.

"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.

Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.

You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.

"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.

The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.

"Move your hand."

Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.

Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.

"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."

You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.

"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.

"No you're n—nahh..."

Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.

"You little... Fuck.."

You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.

And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"So I'm big, huh?"

He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.

"Just fuck me already."

You grumble.

And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.

The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.

"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.

"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.

"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"

"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.

"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."

With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.

His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.

"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.

"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.

And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.

"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.

Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."

Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.

Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.

He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.

Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.

"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.

Inhaling the scent of you.

"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."

His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.

Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.

"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."

And a laugh tumbles from his lips.

"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.

"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.

"And you'd thank me for it."

[k9emote]

"Commonly" Is something said all the time with medical claims due to the fact that the brain really is a mystery, and there are always exceptions. (Very very far and few between. Not thousands upon thousands.) It is also commonly said so that doctors can stay out of trouble if they claim something to be 100% and then by some way they are proven wrong. They want to stay away from being offensive to avoid repercussions. It's seen in a lot of disorder or symptom explanations, even when exceptions aren't prevalent at all.

It is simply the way that the symptom works. Endos have never presented me with a medical reason their mind could split into two just because they wanted it to (as most endos claim.) Or during adulthood when their identity has already formed. It is possible however to not be aware of your system until you are an adult, but that would mean it formed by trauma as a child.

The human brain develops an ego/identity between ages 5-8(ish). If there is intense or repeated trauma occurring, the brain may divide and dissociate to protect the child's mind from complete destruction. There are MRI charts backing this up. See them here

Literal physical evidence of the system reacting inside of the brain, caused by trauma.

Yes, there are religious beliefs that involve pluralism; and that is not my right to speak about it, but if you are apart of the many endos who has watered down "tulpa" to separation from religion entirely, you don't get to speak on it either. It is not my right to decide if religious pluralism is valid or not, but I will say that it is not at all comparable to the OSDID system's functioning that endos mimic.

There are always exceptions. However; that does not mean that anyone has the right to fake a symptom related to a disorder and claim it is seperate.

Let's use this as an example. (My tone is not meant to be patronizing, I just communicate my thoughts better in metaphors.)

June has PTSD, and experiences horrible flashbacks daily. Molly sees this, and decides it would get her attention or would be fun to copy. Molly says you can have flashbacks without any trauma at all. While this COULD be possible in very FEW cases, it's definitely way too unlikely for many to experience it. Molly chooses to say she has flashbacks just because she wants to. This makes June upset, but then everyone starts doing what Molly does. Some say they have flashbacks because of trauma they made up. Some say they have all the symptoms of PTSD, but don't have PTSD at all. June becomes angry because her life and disorder has been watered down so much, that other kids with PTSD are also believing what Molly says, and get hurt or misled in the process. June is called the bad guy.

Endos describe to have systems in the way those with OSDID have it. They claim to have alters with roles, switches (caused by dissociation. A coping mechanism formed due to trauma.), triggers and more. They are directly copying every symptom of DID while claiming not to have it. Alters form to protect. Switches are caused by dissociation and amnesia. The amount of dissociation needed to form separate identities is intense, and cannot be willed upon you just because you want it to. They have invaded our spaces and terms, and have used medical phrases out of context to defend themselves.

Dissociation in itself is a coping mechanism. It is not something that happens just because. If you claim to be a system, that means you experience dissociation and amnesia between alters, which can only be caused by trauma. There is no loophole out of this. It does not happen easily.

If you truly believe you are a system comparable to OSDID with no trauma, you are in a delusion or your mind has hidden your trauma from you.

Delusions happen. Trauma Amnesia happens. I am not saying every Endo is evil. I would have no problem with them if they were not such an invasive, abusive, and misinformed community.

Even if they aren't trying to mock or harm us, they are. Purposefully staying uneducated doesn't make it okay. You have obviously shown that you as well as a claimed endo system cannot respect simple boundaries, seeing as you have interacted despite me saying many times that I want nothing to do with any of you. Endos seek out blogs like mine to belittle and berate. I will be blocking you now as I'm not here to argue. I know what I'm talking about, as I've given my all to be completely educated, and I firmly believe you will either cherry pick and ignore my points, or attempt to prove me wrong with things that do not apply. That is what all of you do.

This about endo supporters.

[windstir]

idk if i've said this here but i really like how gilbert is portrayed as a victim despite everything ... he's TRULY not a perfect person, he's the kind of person that makes you say "okay he does do shitty things he needs to sit down what's wrong with him" and makes things worse for everyone around him MULTIPLE times, he hurts the people who care about him in some way (carl and serge being my main examples, there was genuinely no reason to be doing allat but also does he really know any better???? he's stunted to hell and back in various areas and advanced in areas that he can't even PROCESS properly because of the constant enabling and trauma. he's off the rails, he's awful, his intentions a lot of the time are to HURT -carl- and to push people away in the worst ways possible because he's either scared or angry -serge-)

anyway, abuse victims in media are portrayed as characters who do No Wrong a lot. characters that are gentle, and whose trauma made them softer, who are kind despite it all, who want to be better than the person who hurt them and stuff. you know the deal.

and it's not bad! trauma presents itself in a miriad of ways and that's just how things are, the environment and beliefs are what end up making the change (an abused child without a support net outside of their abuser won't have the same development as an abused child who does have SOMETHING or SOMEONE to hold on to)

gilbert, clearly, is out for blood. his own and someone else's.

because, technically, that's how he was raised. and auguste managed to make an environment that enabled those harmful behaviors (because they were enabling his own!)

when angry, gilbert explodes, he breaks whatever is in his path, and his intentions are to hurt, to break, to cause damage to anyone. auguste taught him that, auguste exploded towards him a lot, gilbert says it himself, he says that auguste would beat him up when he was angry, and those would be the only times he felt loved (it's also shown that auguste would sometimes be kind after he beat him up, but i don't think he mentions this)

(from the backstory chapters):

bonnard: are you sure you can talk like that about him? he's your guardian

gilbert: i just wanted to get his attention. i have to take drastic measures ... or he won't even touch me.

bonnard: what do you mean?

gilbert: when i make him angry (see how he's blaming himself? he's a child here, he's 9!) he treats me with so much violence that i feel like my head is going to be ripped off (because auguste shakes him around violently)

bonnard: i didn't know he was sadistic!

gilbert: and even then ... i prefer that more than when he comes up to me ... but then walks away without trying anything.

sex and assault have also been used against him when angry, too.

so that sort of explains (BUT IT DOESN'T JUSTIFY) why he thought "oh i can do this to carl because i'm mad at him and because i know he wants me so bad anyway. then if it goes badly i can probably apologize to him and it'd be whatever." because that shit has been happening to him FOREVER. and he's been taught to think it was okay.

reading the scene again, you see he's taunting carl, saying that CARL is who wants this, and that this is his opportunity to do whatever he wants and satisfy that need to "possess" him

it's hard to explain a lot of things, but one thing that's clear is that he's using the language auguste and his abusers have used with him before ("you want this, so do it") and he thought carl might've followed along ... then he laughs when carl hits him, saying (direct quote): "hah ... i guess there's still space in you for god. that's great, cling onto him, protect him ... make sure i don't possess you ... make sure the devil (gilbert) doesn't possess you! make sure to tell that to serge, too. he's your best agent, your chosen one. but he needs to know that it's dangerous to get close to me! because I'M the devil that threatens to devour his pure heart! and if he gets close, he'll end up hurt."

a part of me wants to think he's projecting some of his own feelings towards his own abuse, because later on he does admit he feels trapped in his situation, he admits he just let people hurt him because he didn't know any better, stuff like that.

anyway, oof. he's portrayed as the biggest and main victim in kazeki despite it all, unlike auguste, who is very clearly the antagonist in everyone's lives despite him ALSO being an abuse victim (CSA and abuse in general from his adoptive brother)

i think it's nice that he's still seen as a victim despite that, because in the end all of this happens when gilbert is a child, a 13 year old, very poorly socialized and extremely mistreated and dehumanized throughout his life and stuff ......

it's really hard to explain how i feel about gilbert (despite me LOVING his character and feeling a sense of connection) without making it sound like i'm defending his actions because he's genuinely awful sometimes lol what am i even saying atp