#you see her fragility with her strength; her weariness with her grace

[narcissusneverknewme]

I am not immune to the same fallacies and failures of judgement my fellow men are subject to. I am superior to them because I am More right than they are though

[tulipatheticee]

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

------------

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips. 

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

[crazymiddleearthlady282]

Cherry Blossoms: Fili x Y/N- Fili POV

Word Count: 1092, I think

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, FLUFF, all the fluff!!!

A/N: I loved writing this one and getting a different view from my general Kili x readers that I do on google docs. Btw this is my first time posting one soooo it might be kinda cringey. Plz let me know in the notes if there's anything I should work on!

The sun dipped below the peaks of the Misty Mountains, casting long shadows across the emerald green meadow. I sat beneath a magnificent cherry blossom tree, its branches heavy with delicate pink blossoms. The weight of the crown, newly forged, surprisingly heavy on my brow. Erebor was ours, reclaimed from the dragon's clutches, but a strange emptiness gnawed at me, a yearning for something more than gold and the weight of kingship.

I thought of y/n, her laughter echoing in the halls of Rivendell, the way her eyes, the color of a stormy sea, would light up when she spoke of Elvish lore. I, the warrior, had found myself drawn to her quiet strength, to the way her mind seemed to devour knowledge with an insatiable hunger.

I imagined evenings spent poring over dusty tomes, our voices a low murmur in the firelight. Long walks beneath a canopy of stars, our conversation meandering through history, myth, and the mysteries of the world. The thought of such a life… it wasn't just a dream, it was a faint, impossible hope. A hope that quickly flickered, remembering Thorin's stern disapproval of such… distractions. Thorin, ever the king, believed my focus should be solely on rebuilding Erebor, on forging strong alliances, on ensuring the dwarves' prosperity. Romance, in Thorin's eyes, was a luxury for lesser men.

A rustle in the tall grass startled me. I drew my sword, my hand instinctively reaching for the hilt, before I recognized the figure emerging from the shadows. It was y/n.

Her face was pale, etched with a weariness that mirrored my own. But her eyes, those stormy seas, held a flicker of something I couldn't quite name - perhaps concern, perhaps something more. "Fili," she breathed, her voice a whisper.

Time seemed to slow. The setting sun, the rustling grass, even the distant murmur of the river faded into the background. There, before me, stood the woman who had haunted my thoughts.

"Y/n," I replied, my voice rough with surprise. "What brings you here?"

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I… I heard whispers of your victory. And I… I wanted to see you."

A strange warmth spread across my face, a fragile hope blooming in the desolate landscape of my grief. The journey had been arduous, but we had survived. Perhaps this was not the end of our journey, but a new beginning. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was still beauty to be found in the world. I quickly pushed away the thought of Thorin's disapproval. My own happiness mattered.

I gestured towards the space beside me beneath the cherry blossom tree. "Come, sit."

As she moved closer, a shower of delicate pink petals fell around us like snow. I noticed the way my cloak brushed against her arm, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through me. It wasn't the cold that made me shiver. It was something else entirely.

I watched as she sat, her eyes drawn to the distant peaks, a thoughtful expression gracing her lips. The setting sun cast a golden glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheek and the way her hair, the color of spun moonlight, shimmered in the fading light. Petals from the cherry blossom tree rained down around us, creating a magical, ethereal atmosphere.

"It is beautiful here," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Indeed," I agreed, my gaze fixed on her. "Erebor is beautiful, but sometimes… sometimes it feels too grand, too imposing."

She turned to me, a curious expression in her eyes. "And what do you seek, Fili? In this vast kingdom?"

I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the yearning that had been growing within me. "Peace," I finally admitted, "and… and something more."

I saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a mirroring of the emotions that swirled within me. The silence that followed was not awkward, but rather a comfortable hush, filled with unspoken words and shared glances.

Emboldened by the growing intensity of her gaze, I leaned closer. The scent of cherry blossoms and spring filled the air. I could feel her breath on my face, warm and soft. I longed to close the distance between us, to feel her lips brush against my own.

And then, I did. I leaned in, my eyes closed, and pressed my lips to hers. It was a fleeting touch, a tentative exploration, but it ignited a fire within me.

But before I could respond, a voice boomed through the meadow, "Fili! What in Durin's beard are you doing?!"

Kili, his face a mixture of shock and amusement, stood a short distance away, his hands on his hips. The moment was shattered. I pulled back, my face flushed. I looked from Kili to y/n, her cheeks tinged with a blush that rivaled the sunset.

Kili, ever the mischievous one, grinned. "Found yourself a sweetheart, brother?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement.

I, flustered, could only stammer, "Kili! You… you startled me."

She managed a small smile. "It seems we were… interrupted," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Kili, ever the observer, raised an eyebrow. "Seems like it. Well, I'll let you two lovebirds get back to, well, you know what." He winked, then turned and strode away, whistling a jaunty tune.

I watched him go, a mixture of annoyance and amusement washing over me. I turned back to y/n, my face still flushed. "I… I apologize," I stammered. "Kili has a… tendency to appear at inopportune moments."

She smiled, her eyes sparkling.

I leaned in again, my eyes searching hers. This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense, a yearning expressed in a single, passionate movement. I tasted the sweetness of her lips, the faint scent of wildflowers in her hair.

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

She noticed a piece of hair in front of my ear. She smiled caringly and swept the hair behind my ear. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and my breath stifled. "What's wrong?" she said anxiously. "Do you really not know?" I smiled at her with a small smirk in a slightly surprised way. "Know what?" she asked. "How sensitive and delicate a dwarf's ears are." I said. "O-Oh!" she said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-" she began to stress. "No, no, it's alright." I said reassuringly. I slowly leaned in towards her, getting lost in her lovely, e/c eyes.

I gently brushed my lips against hers, a slow, tender kiss that deepened as I lost myself in the sensation of her lips against mine. I tasted the sweetness of her breath, the faint scent of wildflowers in her hair.

She sighed softly against my lips, her hands finding their way to my shoulders, pulling me closer still. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a declaration of love whispered on the breeze.

However, she now knew the thing about dwarves, and she caressingly stroked my ear before running her hands through my hair. I freely moaned into her mouth, and I could feel a grin forming on her lips. I pulled away slowly. "I love you, Amralime." I said sweetly. "I love you too."

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Gladiator 2

I believe the greatest burden of any sequel to an already successful original film, is the task of trying to make a successor worthy of the name that can surpass the original and meet all expectations. The all too easy trap of relying heavily on the nostalgia bait of reminding you that the sequel is connected while running through all the greatest moments and repeating their beats is prevalent in most. We all know that original Gladiator was a perfect film that is still used as a verb to gauge the quality of spectacle and storytelling and rightfully so. Like you, I asked the most important question once this film was announced: Why? Why make a sequel to a film that did not need one? Yes, there are more stories about the gladiatorial games and the many times Roman has fallen, rebuilt itself and fallen again, but is it necessary to frame this story in the confines of an already untainted legacy? Well I'm here to tell you that not only does this film fall into the trap formally mentioned, but it does show the fragility of the political landscape of Rome at the time. I just wish this film followed another path or different set of characters not related to the first film. It does deliver on what I've sorely missed in cinema and that is the epic feel of large scaled sword and shield battles that are dirty and blood soaked fun.

Paul Mescal stoically leads the familiar story branch of this multi-layered plot as Hanno. I liked his tenacity and raw intensity within the confines of the many fight sequences he expertly handles. He was a driven man and I loved his attitude and unwavering conviction. Paul brings the right amount of strength and compassion as the film progresses. Pedro Pascal delivers a great and more reserved performance in many ways as General Acacius. I loved that he was a reluctant combatant and leader in the Roman campaign to conquer all. There is a weariness in his eyes that was expertly explored many times and I loved that he got a moment of repentance with Hanno. Connie Nielsen continues to exude her regal and elegant nature from the first film, but now as a more seasoned and plotting Lucilla. She repeats the same plot again in this film, but there is a caveat this time around that has been seen many times in other stories. There is an emotional reunion in the film that I liked and Connie delivers a stellar performance in it. Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger were fantastic as the twin Roman Emperors Geta and Caracalla. Geta was the more unchecked ambitious one while Caracalla was more debaucherous brother that wasn't all there mentally. Their dynamic kept the tension of the political game alive and showed why they were never really fit for their roles as Emperors. Denzel Washington delivers his most slippery and slimy performance as Macrinus. It has been a long time since I have seen Denzel dive deep back into the villainous role and he was ever so riveting and playful. He was the pure definition of "taking advantage of a fragile situation and navigating how to come out on top". He was quick, efficient and devilish in his smile.

The score by composer and long time collaborator, Harry Gregson-Williams, was fantastic and as epic as it should be. It comes to life in the action sequences and especially in the more emotional moments. The gladiatorial fights are a highlight in the film as they provide story and spectacle, but also you see the many references to the original film. As I said before, I love the sword and shield genre of film and very few can handle it with grace like this director can. Where the film falters for me is the constant reminders of a better film that I just rebought on 4K Bluray Disc. The reunion story was a weaker part for me as I was more interested in how the politics of Rome were being executed. There are multiple vengeance plots happening and it all kind of felt clumsy in toward the end as we rush to the finish line. In the end, I was entertained by it, but not floored by it at all. Director Ridley Scott is a master at creating epics, but this is one film in his filmography that I wish he never touched. Let me know what thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[finalfantasyandnerdiness]

Sparring

Ages ago, @imlilyyfromff13 gave me a prompt about sparring. I wasn’t sure how to fit this prompt into anything in-verse since I’ve only written it in That One You Might Remember AU, but then... crack happened? I don’t know, man. I just don’t like the Amazon Warrior garb. 

Fandom: Lightning Returns Pairing: Hope/Light, ish? 

”Do you seriously think I would ever wear something like this?” Lightning exclaimed. “In public?”

Hope’s facial expression—or lack of thereof—didn’t change even the slightest. “It will strengthen your physical attacks. This armor could be of use against enemies with a high affinity for magic, since they tend to be more receptible to physical damage.”

“I don’t know how you define ‘armor’, Hope, but this,” she gestured vaguely at the small but strategically placed plates of metal, “is not it.”

“I’ve added a lot of features to it. I’d say it’s one of my best garbs so far, actually.” A small smile graced his lips. “I just want to keep you safe, Light.”

His innocent demeanor would probably have fooled just about everyone—a teenage boy, proudly presenting his latest invention—but Lightning wasn’t “everyone.” She knew that the boy in front of her was, in fact, not a boy at all. He was a full-grown man, and he’d just given her an outfit that was in no way, shape, or form appropriate at any location other than a beach—or in the bedroom.

“How weak do you think I am?” she snarled. “Do you really think I’m desperate enough to wear something like this for some extra strength?”

“I honestly don’t see the problem.” For a moment, his façade flickered. His gaze strayed from her face and wandered down her body, lingering just a millisecond too long on certain areas. The corner of his mouth twitched, turning his boyish smile into something completely different. “I think it suits you.”

Lightning’s cheeks flushed. Anger, embarrassment, and a mixture of feelings that she wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole washed over her like a tidal wave. She clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms.

“So you think I need extra strength, huh?” she said. “You think the Savior, chosen by Bhunivelze himself, isn’t strong enough?”

A young boy would probably have flinched at her harsh words. Hope, though, just let out a weary sigh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

On some level, she did, but her rationality had left the building the moment she felt her face turn red. Lightning didn’t do embarrassment, but she definitely did rage.

“Go ahead, then. Have at it. Show me how weak I am.” She summoned her blade, which somehow managed to do a better job at covering her bare skin than her so-called armor. “Let’s spar.”

Hope’s weary look turned into pure exasperation. “Light…”

“I mean it. You’ve got a high affinity for magic, right? You’re exactly the kind of opponent I apparently need to wear something like this for. Prove it.”

She leaned into her fighting stance. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, and her heartbeats pounded against her eardrums. Deep inside, she knew she was overreacting, but Lightning Farron really, really didn’t do embarrassment.

“I’m not going to attack you,” Hope said firmly. “Calm down. It’s just a garb, and I’m not going to force you to wear it. You should rest. Tomorrow—”

Hope’s dismissive tone made the last, fragile layer of Lightning’s self-control crack.

“If you’re not going to attack,” she said, “then I will.”  

She raised her blade and pounced. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she approached her partner-turned-opponent. Her body moved with the smooth efficiency of a well-oiled machine. She was the Savior—not some underwear model floozy. She was strong. Stronger than she’d ever been. She didn’t need…

Hope didn’t move an inch, but his facial expression changed as she rushed toward him. Like a veil being lifted, something deep inside of him seemed to reach the surface. Suddenly, there was nothing about him that resembled a teenage boy anymore. He didn’t even resemble a man. When she met his gaze, right before the inevitable collision, a spike of true fear joined her fury. The raw power radiating from her partner’s eyes… It wasn’t human.

Hope whispered something under his breath. The world turned black.

*

“Light? Are you okay?”

Lightning groaned. She tried to open her eyes, but quickly changed her mind. The bright lights of the Ark burned like acid against her retinas. She was lying on the floor, and while she had absolutely no memory of how she’d ended up there, she could certainly guess. She’d tried to prove a point, and it had misfired. Hard. Her body ached as if she’d been run over by an adamantoise—and her head felt like said adamantoise had decided to stomp on it.

Hope murmured some healing spells, and with frightening speed, the pain receded. She finally looked up, and found him kneeling next to her. His innocent façade was back up again, and if she hadn’t known better, she could have taken him for a concerned teenage boy.

She did know better, though. The mental image of his change of appearance right before he’d cast that spell flashed before her. Just the thought of that unfathomable power she’d seen in those green, glowing eyes made her shudder.

“I’m sorry.” Hope gave her an apologetic smile. “You surprised me. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“It’s… it’s okay.” She cleared her throat. “I’m the one who started it. We’re good.”

With a helping hand from Hope, she managed to get up on her feet. Her head spun a little, but thankfully, her legs didn’t buckle under her weight. After receiving a blow like that, she considered that a win. She wasn’t entirely sure what spell he’d used on her, but it had been strong.

Way too strong.

She shook her head, trying—and failing—to cope with the thought of what her partner might actually be capable of. “I think I’ll have that rest now.”  

“Good,” Hope said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough sparring for today. I don’t think I could pull off a spell like that again.”

“No more sparring.” Lightning didn’t doubt for a second that the last part of his statement was a straight-out lie, but she didn’t comment on it. There were other subjects that had to be brought up first, after all. Like the fact that she did, apparently, have some gaps in her techniques regarding opponents with a high affinity for magic.

“So, I…” She bit down on her lip and swallowed her pride. “I guess I’ll keep the garb.”

Hope’s gaze, once again belonging to a definitely human and definitely adult man, lingered on her so-called armor—and, most of all, the skin it didn’t cover. The corner of his lips twitched.

“I’d like that.”  

[the-ginger-avenger]

Hey, @advisortotheadvisor! I was your Sisters Grimm holiday person, and I wrote you a little fic about Red bonding with some of the Grimms. Hope you like it!

-

Red doesn’t remember much about her family. Those memories of before-before the Wolf, before the Scarlet Hand, before the Jabberwocky- are as insubstantial as smoke slipping through her fingers, leaving nothing behind but the barest flickers of emotions.

She remembers her grandmother the most. Those memories are clearer, polished with a shine of fondness, edged in sorrow and grief. Her grandmother, with her face perpetually lined with stress and weariness, but her eyes that shone with a steely determination. Her grandmother, as firm and unmovable as a mountain, but still filled with compassion. Red remembers her in the smell of baking apples, remembers her in the freshly baked bread that melts on her tongue, remembers her in the sound of a roughened laugh.

She barely remembers her parents, though. What they sounded like, their likes and dislikes, their personalities, are all smudged and faded. No matter how hard she tries, she can't remember much about them.

What she does remember, with vivid clarity, is the day they left her at her grandmother's. She hadn’t realized they were abandoning her, not until weeks later when they never came back, and even then, she hadn't understood. Not fully. But she remembers the look on their faces, that last time she saw them. There had been no anguish, no grief, no remorse.

There had just been relief.

Sometimes she lies in bed and turns those fragments of memories around in her head, trying to find some good in them. Some good moments to cherish. Some good moments to hold on to, there must have been some good. But all she can see is that day at her grandmother's, that relief on their faces before they left her life for good.

Relda’s house has always felt like home. There has always been something right about that cute home with its wraparound porch, its living room crowded with stacks of books, its walls always echoing with noise, but Red walks around on eggshells. She moves through the house quietly, tries to blend into the background, tries to be as unobtrusive as she possibly can. She doesn’t argue, she doesn’t make a mess, she does her best not to be a burden. She wants to belong, she wants to stay, she wants to be good enough for this family, but she knows, better than most, just how fragile family can be.

And she knows it’s only a matter of time before they leave her behind.

-

She feels the most at peace with Mr. Canis.

She has always felt that way, even when he still had the Wolf inside him. He was never the villain in her mind, never the monster, but the hero. Even through all those years of grief and torment, all those years battling the Wolf, he still remained good.

He makes her want to be good. To be caring. To be selfless. To be as brave and as strong as him. But there are so many days when she doesn’t think she’ll ever be as strong as him.

She gasps awake one night from a dream, fangs sharpening behind her lips, her fingers tapering into claws. The details blur in her mind, but she knows it was one drenched in blood, pain, anger, one filled with the desire for violence. Her heartbeat jackrabbits in her chest, a fierce pounding against her bones, and it doesn’t race out of fear, but adrenaline. The dream didn’t carry the weight of a nightmare, not like it should. The fear comes after, along with the realization that the dream wasn’t hers, not really. 

And the terror that follows that realization, the knowledge that even in her sleep, the Wolf is still fighting for control, feels choking. 

She’s out of the bed before she fully makes a conscious decision to move and flees out into the hallway. She’s trembling by the time she makes it to his room, a full body shiver that’s bone deep. The door opens before she can knock and he stands in the doorway, bushy eyebrows low over his eyes, blinking the last dregs of his own sleep away.

She wonders if her eyes are ice blue, glowing faintly in the dark. She wonders if he can see the Wolf writhing under her skin, clawing for freedom, but he doesn’t seem concerned as he steps to the side and ushers her into the room. He never seems concerned. He always has this firm, unshakable belief in her. A steadfast belief in her ability to control the Wolf, to do good. Hope from a man who’s been through so much pain, who has felt so much grief.

She cherishes his belief in her like a gift. Like a beacon that guides her out of her own fears, and already she can feel herself begin to calm.

It takes an hour of meditation before her hands stop shaking and after he helps her draw the boundaries between her thoughts and the Wolf’s, her wants and the Wolf’s. Reminds her that they are not one, they are not the same. He helps her rebuild the barriers between herself and the monster, and by the time she feels fully grounded, the sky outside has started to lighten.

She feels guilt over keeping him up so late when he gets so few restful nights, but he places a hand on her shoulder before she can apologize and gives her a small smile. There is a stronger reassurance in that gentle squeeze, in that small smile, than any words can bring.

-

The Wolf is never dormant.

Mr. Canis warned her it was a relentless creature. It will always be looking for a weak point. It will always search for freedom. Fighting it back is a constant struggle, and sometimes it is so very draining.

And today she’s afraid she won’t be able to hold it back.

She stretches out on the living room floor, tucked between two stacks of books, and tries to lose herself in her drawing. She hasn’t seen colors since taking on the Wolf, but she still finds comfort in drawing. There’s always been something grounding and peaceful in the act of creating a piece of art. But not today. Irritation coils tighter and tighter in her chest, smells are too strong, sounds too grating, and all the deep breaths she takes, all the mantras she repeats in her mind, don’t seem to help.

It also doesn’t help that she can feel Puck staring at her.

He’s just come back from a few months of traveling with Jake, and he’s fallen back into the flow of the house, of the family, with the ease, self-confidence, and sense of belonging that she yearns for.

He sprawls out on the couch, taking up all three cushions so Daphne has to perch on the armrest, though Sabrina stubbornly sits on his feet. Daphne has been talking about some new spell she’s learned and while Sabrina listens, but for the past five minutes Puck’s attention has been on Red. She’s never seen him so still before, so his gaze feels more pointed, and she thinks he can see every crack spiderwebbing across her control. That he can see the Wolf breaking through.

With no warning, he jerks his feet out from under Sabrina and dodges the throw pillow she tosses at him with far more grace than should belong to someone who routinely rolls around in the mud. He gives Red a pointed look before heading upstairs.

He’s halfway up the stairs before he calls over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”

For a brief second, her irritation flares and she considers ignoring him, staying downstairs out of spite, but that would be rude and her life here is still so fragile, still so new. Despite her foul mood, she still doesn't want to risk anything.

She follows him up the stairs and trails him into his room, her irritation shifting into confusion. His room, as always, is awe-inspiring. No matter how many times she’s been here it still takes her breath away. The sky opens up above her, not a single cloud in sight, even though she knows for a fact it’s storming outside. The long grass ruffles in a gentle breeze, a cool brush against her skin.

Puck stands beside her, plants his hands on his hips, and says, “Well, get on with it.”

She glances at him, confused, but he shrugs a shoulder and flaps a hand towards the field and the trees rising in the distance.

“Go. Run. Scream. Roll in the mud a bit. You need to loosen up.” She tenses at his words, at the rebuke, her mind spinning through all the ways she needs to do better, before Puck grins, eyes lighting with mischief. “You’re almost as uptight as Grimm.”

The comparison catches her off guard, as does the teasing tone, and her mounting panic cuts off under the surprise. She’s watched Puck and Sabrina trade insults that leaned more towards fond teasing enough that she recognizes it in his tone. Not a rebuke, but a joke.

His wings unfurl from his back, and with one smooth, languid flap, he’s airborne. "You need to relax. Have fun."

He’s halfway to the trees before she unglues her feet from the ground. She follows him at a slow, hesitant jog, before she starts getting faster, and faster, and faster, careful to use her own strength, her own speed, and not any of the Wolf’s.

It should feel like a bad idea, this frantic race through the grass. It should feel like giving in to the beast and its restlessness, but it doesn’t. The Wolf is a creature of rage and violence and there is none of that in this. She races into the trees, fast enough to make her legs burn, her breath to rasp, to dissolve all the tension and the fear that have been steadily growing in her chest for days, and all she feels is a burgeoning joy.

She breaks through the treeline and slows to a stop, gasping for breath, when something lands on the ground at her feet. It takes a moment for her brain to register that it’s a bag filled with Puck’s signature slime bombs, just before one splatters on top of her head. She glances up, spluttering in surprise, her nose curling at the stench, to find Puck grinning down at her, another slime bomb held in his hand, a dare in one raised eyebrow. Red only hesitates for a moment before she snatches up her bag and the game begins. She doesn't know how much time passes as they fling them at each other. Every one of his hits her, but she ends up laughing too hard to aim, so most of hers miss him.

She’s covered in slime from head to toe as they make their way back downstairs, but the grin is still stretched wide on her face. Daphne squeals in delight when she spots her and starts telling Red all the ways she can use the slime to style her hair, while Sabrina moves to punch Puck’s arm, even after Red tells her it’s fine. Everything’s perfectly fine. She feels a steady, buzzing warmth, the Wolf long forgotten, and she’s happy enough that she doesn’t even mind the smell.

-

Daphne never gives her the chance to feel out of place, never gives her the chance to blend into the background. She has always made Red feel welcome, but Red also knows that's just who Daphne is. She chats up strangers in the diner, makes friends with everyone in school, adopts every stray animal she finds outside. She is kind, and she is friendly, and wonderful, full of love and joy, but that doesn't mean she loves Red like a member of the family. Red is just someone who happens to live in the same house. She's just someone who happens to be there when Daphne wants to talk to someone. 

Red firmly believes this until the day Daphne marches up to her and asks if she can fix Red’s hair. The request catches Red so much by surprise that she can only nod her head. Daphne's answering grin is bright and contagious as she grabs Red's hand and all but drags her into her room.

Daphne is a whirlwind, all noise and light and unbridled joy, but in this moment it’s more subdued. She sits behind Red, more still than she’s ever been but talking a mile a minute, and Red sits still and stiff, afraid that any wrong move will shatter the moment. She's seen Daphne and Sabrina do each others hair on more than one occasion, that steady ease and familiarity they have for each other filling her with an ache of longing strong enough to take her breath away. She feels that longing swell in her chest now, feels that desire for this to mean more than just an act of boredom. 

Daphne combs through Red’s hair before she begins to braid it, talks about school and friends and drama and magic lessons, and coaxes Red into the conversation, and Red can feel the tension uncoil from her shoulders. When Red's braids meet Daphne’s seal of approval, they switch places and Red starts working on Daphne's hair. Red has never been good at carrying on a conversation, but the words come easy to her now, and she feels a bit of sorrow when she finishes the last braid, already mourning the loss of this moment.

But Daphne drags them both to the nearest mirror, and the two of them try different poses before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.

Daphne slings an arm around Red's shoulders and beams at their reflection. "There," she says. "Now we just have to do Sabrina's hair and then we'll all match. The entire town will be talking about the three Grimm sisters and their awesomesauce hair."

Red brushes her fingers across her braids. “Awesomesauce,” she echoes around the lump that forms in her throat. Daphne’s words echo in her mind, and the smile that curls her lips stays on her face the entire day.

-

Of all of them, she thinks Sabrina will be the one to kick her out.

Red doesn’t blame her. Sabrina has an unshakable love for her family that Red has always admired. She cares fiercely for the ones she loves, and she does everything she can to keep her family safe. Red is dangerous. There is no guarantee that she’ll be able to keep the Wolf under control. Her being in this house is a danger to everyone Sabrina cares about, and she understands if the other girl doesn’t want her around.

A nightmare wakes Red in the middle of the night. It’s different from the ones she normally has. There’s no blood, no death, no fear. There’s just the hollow ache of standing in an empty house, searching every room for people who left a long time ago.

Her chest constricts and she pushes herself out of bed fast enough to make her head light. She slips out of her room but hesitates in the hallway. Part of her wants to see Mr. Canis, but she knows he didn't sleep well the night before and she doesn't want to wake him, so instead she heads downstairs. She'll get a glass of water, she'll give herself time to calm down, to realize how ridiculous she's being, and then everything will be fine.

She heads into the kitchen and almost runs right into Sabrina.

Sabrina blinks at her in surprise as Red mumbles a quick apology and then frowns.

“Everything okay?” Sabrina asks.

“Yes,” she stammers. “I just . . .I couldn’t sleep.”

Sabrina’s lips twist into a wry smile, one eyebrow rising. “Sure, me too,” she says, and Red notices the dark circles under Sabrina's eyes, the haggard expression on her face.

For a moment, she hesitates between asking Sabrina if she's okay or pretending she doesn't notice. She cares about Sabrina, she wants to know if she's okay, if she needs to talk, but she also knows Sabrina doesn't normally like for people to pry. 

In the end, Red just jerks her head in a stilted nod and slips past Sabrina into the kitchen. She's grabbing a glass when Sabrina calls out her name. 

She turns to find Sabrina hovering in the doorway, scowling at a spot on the floor. “If you ever want . . .if you need . . .” Sabrina sucks in a frustrated breath, her gaze traveling up to the ceiling. “Talking sometimes helps. And I know what it’s like . . .”

She trails off into an awkward silence but Red can fill in the rest. She knows what it’s like to be abandoned. She knows what it’s like to cling to your family tight enough to hurt, afraid they’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. She knows what it’s like, watching someone die right in front of you.

Sabrina crosses her arms, shifts on her feet, uncrosses her arms again. Her eyes drop from the ceiling to meet Red’s, and her shoulder twitches in a shrug. “You know, if you want.”

Heat prickles the back of Red’s eyes and she furiously blinks the tears away, knowing they will only make Sabrina mortified. “Thanks,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

Sabrina nods her head and gives Red a small but genuine smile before she slips out of the room.

It’s easier falling back to sleep, and Red spends the rest of the night dreaming of nothing, comfroted in the warm knowledge that someone cares.

-

These are the ways they love her.

Hours of meditation. Bedroom doors open in the middle of the night. Pranks and jokes and gifts made just for her. Listening to nightmares and worries. A surprise dinner of her favorite food.

Slowly, Red stops walking on thin ice. She stops forcing herself to blend into the background. Stops searching their faces for the same tics, the same expressions, she vaguely remembers on her parents’ face that day they left her at her grandmothers.

Relda’s house has always felt like home, and Red stops doubting that feeling. She stops fearing that they will leave her behind or reject her. The Grimms are her family and they will always be there for her.

[himluv]

Inevitable Update

Fuck it. We’re celebrating up in this bitch. HAVE SOME SMUT! (Set directly after Never Again).

Reminder, you can read Inevitable from the beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998044

They walked back to the forward base in silence. Varric and Dorian walked ahead of them, close enough to defend in case of a threat, but far enough to afford the couple some privacy if they wanted to talk.

Riallan did not want to talk.  After her visit to the Fade, her body was exhausted, her heart weary. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, twining and tangling in whirlwind fashion, too fast to keep up with. The Nightmare, the Divine, Alistair, the tombstones. One after another, endlessly circling and pulling her under. The only thing keeping her head above water was Solas’ fingers laced through hers.

He walked in silence beside her, closer than he normally would. His hand was warm and dry, like the desert at night, and focusing on his skin against hers calmed her somewhat. She dreaded reaching the forward camp, when all eyes would be on her and he would let go of her hand to vanish into the background.

Except, he didn’t.

He glanced at her as they entered the camp, checking to see if she was ready to face the Inquisition. She nodded that she was, and when she loosened her grip on his hand, his tightened.

He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back. “Come,” he said, the word all the encouragement she needed. They stepped into the forward base side by side, hand in hand, and she took all the silent strength he offered.

Soldiers nodded to her, their eyes flicking to Solas, to their hands intertwined, and then back. There were gasps, whispers, money exchanged hands as bets were settled, but there was no outrage. No condemnation at the two apostates. And there was no outcry, no demands for her time or her attention. It was as if Solas were a barrier between her and the Inquisition forces.

Still, the relief was palpable as Solas raised the flap to her tent and followed after her. She had done all she could that night. Let the Inquisition fend for itself for one evening. Let the mantle of Inquisitor fall from her shoulders. Let her just be Riallan for a little while.

Solas lit the candles with a careless gesture. “Are you hungry?” He asked as he helped her unbuckle her armor. It wasn’t a task she truly needed help with, but his hands seemed unable to be far from her.

She knew she should be hungry, but she wasn’t. She shook her head.

Concern flickered across his face, but he nodded.

Once free of her armor and dressed in her customary leggings and oversized tunic, she sank onto the pile of blankets in the center of her tent. Normally, her field tent had just enough room for their two bedrolls and their supplies, but the Inquisitor’s tent in a forward base demanded something much more grand. She had a cot in one corner, a desk in another, and even a wash basin and mirror along one canvas wall. The first thing she had done the night before was lay out her bedroll and the bedding from the cot onto the floor. She would be much more comfortable there, even after all these months sleeping in a bed in Skyhold.

“Would it be too much to ask for a bath?” She smiled, meaning the words as a joke.

Solas frowned down at her. “Perhaps in a desert, vhenan. I can inquire with—“

She took his wrist in her hand. “I was kidding.” She chuckled, but it wasn’t as heartfelt as usual.  “Lie down with me?”

His mouth smiled but that little crease in his brow never moved.

She tugged on his hand and he sank to sit cross-legged in front of her. “Stop worrying,” she said.

“I cannot.” The candlelight lent his face a warm glow, playing across the long slope of his nose. “I worry about you, Ria. No matter how hard I try.”

She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry, Solas. I needed you to stay, I —“ His palm, warm and dry against her cheek stopped her.

“I do not blame you, vhenan.” A little frown, that crease in his brow deepened. “You made the right decision. Even if I could not see it at the time.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He shook his head, once and so softly, more to himself than to her. “I fear we are well past the time where either of us could hope to avoid heartache.” His tone was light, offsetting the grim words, but his eyes carried a different weight now. A familiar one. He held her gaze as his thumb traced her jaw and then her lower lip.

She kissed him, swift and sudden. She expected to surprise him, but Solas met her desire, his fingers grasping the back of her neck and drawing her into him. Riallan’s hands roamed, bunching in his tunic, scraping his scalp, tracing an ear. And with every touch, every little gasp she pulled from him, it felt like her blood had set aflame.

She let out a little yelp as his hands moved to lift her onto his lap. He laughed, low and breathy against her neck and Riallan’s head spun. She dropped her head back, bit her lip, and sighed as his mouth explored every inch of her throat.

“Is this real?” She asked.

“Yes, vhenan.” That throaty chuckle again. It was such a rare and beautiful sound.

She rolled her hips against him and a wave of heat crashed over her at his moan. He pulled her closer, his fingers digging into her hips. She grabbed at his shirt, slow at first, but he didn’t protest as she lifted the hem. Instead he obliged her, raising his arms to let her pull the tunic over his head.

This was new territory for them. They occasionally helped each other out of their armor, saw and felt bare skin when one of them needed healing, but this feverish removal of clothing? Only in her dreams.

But she wasn't dreaming, not this time. The fire of his touch proved that. His hands, those long, artist’s fingers, crept beneath her tunic to rove over her skin. It was the most forward he’d been since that afternoon in the Forbidden Oasis. Not that there had been much time alone for them since then. But still, it’d been weeks of heated glances, lingering touches, and too brief kisses. She needed this.

Especially after the day they’d had.

It seemed, for once, that Solas agreed. Usually he was so hesitant, unwilling to initiate contact beyond a kiss here and there. But tonight he felt resolute, desperate even. And that worried her. As badly as she wanted this, wanted him, this wasn’t like him.

Riallan pulled back, her hands on each side of his face. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide to leave the barest fringe of sea grey around them. His lips were bright, even against the flush of his face in the candlelight. He looked amazing, suddenly so real beneath her touch.

“Vhenan?” He blinked. “Is something wrong?”

“Are you sure?” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve never… We haven’t — I just want you to be sure.” She was an idiot. She had stopped them so she could babble half sentences and ruin the entire mood? Riallan sighed and looked down at their laps.

Gentle fingers lifted her chin. “I am certain, Ria,” he said. He kissed her cheek. “I thought the worst today.” His lips pressed to the other side of her face. “And all I could think was that the last words I ever spoke to you were in anger.” A brush of his mouth against her forehead. “That your last memory of me would not be one of love.” His voice was low, rough and fragile.

She shuddered at the sound, at the emotion, a display so rare for Solas.

He kissed her, his mouth tender against hers. There was no rush, no desperate heat, just longing and need and relief. She melted against him, her arms looping around his neck as she deepened the kiss. They went slower, relishing in one in other, in the fact that they both still lived.

Impossibly.

With sure fingers, Solas tugged at the hem of her tunic, and once it was off and tossed across the tent, any lingering doubts Riallan had went with it. He did not hesitate. His touch was firm, decisive. He knew what he wanted and he would have it, if she would let him.

She gasped when his hands found the edges of her breast band. She had longed for this, for him to be so bold, to feel his hands on every inch of her skin. But now that the moment was here, she couldn’t seem to believe it was real.

And then the breast band was gone, tossed aside like her tunic, and his mouth moved to her chest. Her world narrowed to where his tongue pressed against her flesh, how good it felt, how his merest touch suffused her entire body with warmth.

He released her, the air suddenly cool against her skin. “I would make amends,” he said. The emotion in his words was still there, but something dark thrilled in his voice. A promise. “Isalan sera na aron tuelan.”

She didn’t understand everything he said. Something about lust and touch and the Creators. But she didn’t need to understand. She got the meaning just fine: he would make up for lost time. She nodded, she wasn’t really capable of more than that at the moment, and kissed him.

His tongue met hers, explored her mouth, teased her lips, as he tilted her back and laid her onto the blankets. Then his mouth traveled. Down her chin, her jaw, trailed along her throat to pause at each breast. A flick of his tongue on each nipple made her arch and writhe, and the smile he graced her with was utterly predatory.

It had been too long since a partner had made her feel this desired. Too long since she had craved someone as much as she craved him.

Her leggings went next, his stare transfixed as she wiggled her hips free of them. His touch was slow, reverent. Fingertips blazed along the tail of her vallaslin, claiming the territory as his. Marveling at the shiver that rolled through her. Solas’ eyes soaked her in, watched her every movement as if he could draw his pleasure simply from the sight of her.

“Please.” The word was a hush of breath on her tongue.

He smirked, all wonder replaced with stark hunger. His touch ghosted along her skin, those eyes watching for her frustration, glinting when she caught her lip between her teeth. Riallan closed her eyes and focused on the feel of those hands on her body, the casual touch that ventured up her thigh until it was intimate enough to make her moan.

“People will hear, vhenan,” he said. There was a smile in his voice.

“Let them.”

He hummed at that and then pulled her small clothes down her legs. More rapid-fire elvhen, too fast to catch, too low to hear, his breath against her skin as he bent down to press featherlight kisses up her leg. Then Riallan’s world went white as he tasted her for the first time.

She’d dreamed of this moment. Fantasized. But neither had ever captured the worship in his eyes. The shiver of elvhen that poured from his lips, spoken in reverence against her most sensitive places. The tremble of his fingertips where they bit into her hips.

Heat swirled low in her belly, spiraled, taut and desperate. “Solas.”

He hummed against her and smiled at her gasp.

“I — Fenedhis, emma lath, I…” Her eyelids fluttered, her sight flickering from the dark brown of the canvas above her, the flash of candlelight, the spread of the wolfish grin on his face as she fell apart around him.

She shuddered and shook, heat and light crashing through her in delicious waves until it was all she knew.  

Solas sat back and watched blissful agony wash over his vhenan’s face, consumed by the sight. The smell of her arousal overwhelmed him, the taste of her thick and cloying on his tongue. For the first time in his long life, a lover had conquered him completely. In that moment there were no Elvhen besides her. No Elvhenan to restore. No betrayed kin haunting his every step. There was simply Riallan.

He had not felt so free in millennia.

As her trembling eased, Solas trailed one hand across her skin to resume the work of his tongue. Tiny touches, light and wondering. Asking, was she ready to continue? The whimpers that came with each flick of his fingertip were answer enough.

And yet his hands hesitated at the lacings of his breeches.

This was the final piece. The last barrier he had built up between them, his heart’s last remaining defense. She would never know whole truth of him, he vowed then never to be Fen’Harel when he was with her, but that didn’t mean those truths wouldn’t belong to her. If he did this, if he succumbed to the desire decimating them both, he would surrender his every truth at her feet. If he relinquished his burdens, she would take them up, whether she knew it or not.

“Solas?”

Dark eyes stared up at him, wide and wanting and worried. For once he couldn’t bring himself to allay her fears. In the dim, flickering light of her tent, he was guileless and raw, nothing more than her apostate lover. Nothing more than that name on her lips.

“Let me help,” she said. Riallan sat up, delicate fingers on his lacings, twining with his until they worked together to remove this last obstacle between them. The breeches slid off his hips and she made to lie back, but his hand on hers rooted her in place. He kissed her fingertips, her palm, her wrist and the crease of her elbow, guiding her down with each press of his lips.

He breathed his love against the crook of her neck, tasted the salt-sweet warmth of her and relished the tiny gasp, the curve of her body against his. She made it painfully clear that she wanted him, needed him, and at last he admitted that he needed her too.

For months he had lied to himself, had denied her touches and her skin and the heat of her body pressed to his. He’d believed it was in her best interest to maintain his distance, even after he’d declared his affection. That it would protect her in the long run. But he knew now that was just another selfish excuse.

He was merely protecting himself, as ever.

But after watching her die, again, he couldn’t bear to imagine spending this night alone. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to know her body with his every sense and to let her know him in turn.

“Please.” The word fell from her lips, a chant, breathless and needy. He caught the word on his tongue, pressed his mouth to hers and relished in the heat of her kiss. Her nails bit into his hips, begging him closer.

Solas obliged her.

He stifled a moan and watched her eyelids flutter. Her lips parted, the heat blossomed on her cheeks for once not from embarrassment but from pleasure. Yet again he was struck by how real she was under his hands. Riallan was vibrant, visceral and all-consuming. She tethered him to this world in a way he had never known, in a way he didn’t think he could ever un-know.

His hands roamed, as if they hoped to map every inch of her body in the course of one evening. He moved gently at first. There was no need to rush, he reminded himself. There was time, for now. For this.

But Riallan had different ideas.

Her hands pulled him close, urged and pleaded, guided and instructed how she wanted to be loved. Solas had never known a lover so confident — love-making in Elvhenan was a languorous thing, much like everything else — and Riallan’s urgency thrilled him.

He’d thought to go slow, to cherish this moment, but as she moved with him she moaned and bit her lip and looked absolutely devastating in her passion. A millennium alone was far too long to withstand such perfection.

So, he gave her what she wanted. He worshiped at her altar, whispered his truths in elvhen so fast she could never understand. He gave her everything he had to give, body and spirit.

And though it terrified him, it was the sweetest surrender.  

[beingevil]

if there be thorns, Guardian Yang AU

title: if there be thorns 

pairing: none here 

Rating and warnings: Gen

author’s notes: In honour of a very special day, for Neon’s Guardian Yang AU. You can read it on Ao3 here!

summary:  Annerose POV,  set largely after Yang goes missing.

 So it is now, months away from Reinhard’s arrest, that she recognises the look in Reinhard’s eyes as he descends from the carriage. She has known her brother from the day he was born, she knows his hundred different tells better than anyone else: 

wordcount: 1690 words 

Even the Kaiser’s palace walls cannot keep the whispers out.

When Reinhard was taken into custody after the attempted assassination, Friedrich kept that knowledge from her, whether out of a misguided sense of kindness, or to keep her sweet and compliant – she did not know, and it made little difference either way.

 His court had no such reservations.

 It is Benemunde who first springs the knowledge on her like a steel trap, gleefully detailing how Reinhard had been taken away in chains, fighting the guards like a mad dog.

 It had taken much to listen with a pleasant, detached interest, to nod and smile, to thank Benemunde for telling her how Reinhard was getting along.

 Perhaps if it appeared she did not care, she would be less of a weapon against Reinhard.

 There is little enough she can do in the Kaiser’s grasp, but she can do her utmost not to be turned into a weapon against her brother.

 Life under her father’s hand had taught her all too well not to show weakness, and here in the Kaiser’s court of vipers she knows she needs every lesson she learned and more.

 She finds a quiet joy in Benemunde’s dissatisfaction, knowing she had denied the Marquise her satisfaction, as the other woman storms off, loudly calling her a disgrace.

 After all, she learned long ago never to act as if the names hurt her.

So it is now, months away from Reinhard’s arrest, that she recognises the look in Reinhard’s eyes as he descends from the carriage. She has known her brother from the day he was born, she knows his hundred different tells better than anyone else: the haunted circles around his fever-bright eyes, the rigid set of his mouth before he shapes it into a brittle smile for her and everyone watching.

 It seems he has dressed today with little care for how he looks. His blue coat seems carelessly rumpled, and the edges of his cuffs appear to have been worried at.

She knows why. His life has been transformed since they last met. 

The Kaiser’s walls had not kept those rumours out either.

The cravat around his neck is at odds with his ensemble, its cut a little too old. It must have been cream-coloured, once, but time has turned it off-white and its best days are clearly far behind it.

 Her musings on Reinhard’s odd sartorial choices on this day is interrupted by his approach.

 She puts her arms around him as he nears her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into his ear, hidden from the guards by the crook of her arm and the curve of his shoulder. When his arms close convulsively around her, she has never more wished to be able to speak freely to her brother. But they are ever under the gaze of the Kaiser’s men, and both of them know to be careful.

 Yang had been good for him, Reinhard’s complaining about his strange ways and fussiness notwithstanding. It had been good fortune that Annerose had learned long ago not to expect for either of them.

 She had thought that the savage wildness in Reinhard calmed, however momentarily, during his time with Yang. At their last meeting, she had smiled to herself as her wilful brother poured Yang tea as if he had done it a thousand times, even as he complained to her about how Yang couldn’t do a thing for himself, not even getting up in the morning.

 Then Reinhard had reached out and adjusted Yang’s cravat over Yang’s feeble protests – it had gone askew somehow – all the while deploring his choice in clothing and chiding him for not paying heed to Reinhard’s suggestions for suitable palace fashion.

 She had liked him, the quiet unassuming man whom court politics had unexpectedly thrust into their lives. She too knows what it is like to be plucked from the world you knew and thrown in the midst of a court where every smile could hide a dagger. She liked that Yang never made it seem like he expected anything of her or Reinhard, not even conversation, for even silence was comfortable around him.

 Above all, she appreciated that Yang was a safe pair of hands for her brother. It did not escape her that Reinhard, in his own way, turned towards Yang like a flower to the sun. She had thought it was good that finally, Reinhard had an adult in his life that he could trust.

 But Yang is gone now.

 And in her brother’s place is a wild creature that looks out at Annerose from behind his fevered blue eyes.

 She leads Reinhard to the conservatory, where heliotrope blooms in dreamy violet clouds. Deep magenta fuchsia hang their heavy lantern blossoms from the trellises, vivid petals tumbling down the conservatory walls. Hydrangeas unfurl their storied petals here, and honeysuckle trumpets grace the air with their sweet fragrance.

 Over and under it all, the scent of the Kaiser’s prized roses perfume the air. Summer is approaching its peak and so are they, petals of the deepest crimson, the palest pink, the purest white all unfolding to the air.

 Reinhard barely seems to notice. He is standing right next to her, but he might as well be a thousand miles away.

 In a way, he is.

 Never has she more regretted that they cannot speak freely here.

 She pours him tea, amber liquid swirling in its gilded cup. He glances once at it and not again, and she knows then who he must be thinking of.  

 Under the table, she reaches out and takes his hand.

 His nails are ragged to the touch, and there are healing scars scattered across the back and sides of his hand, recalling to her the destructive rages he would fly into as a child. How many fragile things already been consigned to his rages?

 How much more could he bear before he too would shatter?

 He rests his cheek on his hand, the very picture of an indolent, spoiled noble.

 “The weather is so very hot recently,” he says. “Sister, I do think that the next two or three weeks would be a perfect time for a sojourn into the mountains. I hear Freuden would be a wonderful place.”

 The question is in her eyes as she smiles at him, wondering what game he intends to play this time.

 “Did you not summer there last year?” He continues, without waiting for her answer, “If you go, I may join you there too.”

 Under the table, his hand tightens almost convulsively on hers.

 She laughs gently to give herself time to respond.

 “Dear Reinhard, whatever it is you wish, I shall certainly endeavour.”

 “Do,” he says, and his fingers once again close, painfully tight, around hers.

 She knows for certain then that he has no intention of joining her there.

 When he takes his leave from her, he rests her head on her shoulder for a moment, and he is her brother Reinhard once again, running into her arms with skinned knees and bruised knuckles from yet another fight.

 But her brother fights different battles now, far beyond the schoolyards of their childhood years.

 This time he is wounded with hurts she cannot heal.

 She would like to believe that he can draw strength from her presence like this.

 She embraces him and strokes his hair gently. Briefly, his shoulders shake as she holds him.

 It is all the emotion he allows himself in her presence that day.

 “Be well,” she says, reluctantly releasing him.  

 “Always,” he answers, smiling.

 There is a strange fey light burning in his eyes, one she knows too well.  

 He takes his leave, striding to his carriage without looking back.

 Never once has Yang’s name crossed their lips.

 She wonders what her brother has become, what new creature birthed in tragedy and resolve now loosed upon Odin, planning his vengeance.

 It is then that she remembers where she had last seen the cravat around Reinhard’s neck.

 It had been around Yang’s neck.

 They had laughed, all three of them together, on that day a lifetime ago.

 She sleeps poorly that night. Soon after midnight, she wakes to watch the moon traverse the sky until the dawn greets her weary eyes.  

A week later, as Reinhard has asked – no sooner, so as not to arouse suspicion – she seeks the Kaiser’s leave to holiday in the Freuden mountains, away from the summer heat.

The Kaiser grants her request, of course. She asks him for so little, after all.

 Here, where mountain ranges cradle her villa, alpine springs feed the lush green gardens and their wildflowers.

 Though she has been here before with the Kaiser, the silence feels different this, portentous as it weighs on her shoulders. There is bite in the cool winds as they tug at her skirts and echo through the ravines.

 She waits for news, but never expected it to come on wings this swift.

 Even guarded in the heart of the mountain fastness, the news reaches her, through the newspapers and the whispers from the villa’s servants.

 The capital has been plagued by a sudden rash of unexplained accidents and deaths – odd, for their frequency and occurrence, amongst the mid-ranking military and minor nobles. Stabbed, shot, poisoned – they meet their end through means as varied as their victims.

 Annerose is not naïve enough to fail to see Reinhard’s hand in this – the timing, the coincidence, fits all too well.

 A mysterious letter arrives at Neue Sanssouci which evidently threatens her safety, the Kaiser has her guard doubled as a result and asks her to be watchful. He has decided she is safer in the mountains than she is in the palace, a decision she knows Reinhard arrived at weeks ago.

 Her heart aches for her brother even as she wonders about his purpose – are all these deaths to lay at a dead man’s feet? Yang would never have wanted this for him.

 One day a letter from Reinhard arrives, and in its wake, when she returns to the heart of Odin, everything has changed.

[sol-korolevas]

[until the earth dies with the sun]; part i of ii

pairing: v x reader

warning(s): angst angst angst, slightly spicy hot stuff but not much 

tagging: @malanoches @kyarymell @pointedly-foolish

you don’t believe loving someone is a choice. your affection for v never blossomed from a free will. some may call it fate, that fickle little aspect of life, that compelled you to fall in love with v. others, the hopeless romantics, called it destiny. 

but what separated fate from destiny?

if you asked yourself this a few months prior, you would have shrugged your shoulders and said: “i don’t know.” 

because right now, all you could remember were the high-pitched squeals of cancerous demons and the trail of bloodshed they created.

most horrifying of all was the world reshaped into this dizzying mosaic of blood and gore—a twisted version of eden.

just moments ago, griffon came to you, urging you to follow him. 

but suddenly something ripped out from the ground, a creature wrapped in chains and locks, sending the bird soaring down the path you came from. though it was characteristic of him to run, you knew that he was providing a distraction, too. 

you couldn’t curse these monsters to hell when you were in a version of it. sore and tired, you walked through the twisted path, full of decaying flowers and twisted roots. fleshy dirt gave away as your feet sank in, heralding nightmarish groans from deep below. shivering, you wrapped your bare arms around your body and tilted your head, hoping griffon would be coming soon.

you hoped everyone was alright.

you knew dante and nero would be fine because they were strong. even nico had her own fortitude and luck; that van she drove was a weapon itself. 

the person you worried the most about was v, who despite his fair share of powers and his ability to summon demons, was crumbling.

your heart pounded as you started climbing a steep red slope that reminded you of half-dried clay. the sudden break from cacophonous noises to serenity thrust your mind into a false sense of peace. 

the serenity beckoned you to slow down and sag to the ground with a heavy exhale. suddenly, you began thinking about the past—about your home and about him. 

life was so much simpler beyond the demons and the fighting. you remembered the days where v collapsed into your arms, tired but full of affection. his head would dip into the crook of your neck, a muffled groan slipping out of his lips as he traced patterns against your skin. 

poetry suddenly became romantic and quintessential in your life. just like v’s presence and the sudden blossoming love you gave him and he for you. 

you couldn’t deny that you had first fallen for him for his appearance alone. unlike nero and dante, v was always fragile, with an air of mystery surrounding him. wherein he lacked in strength, he was skilled with grace and finesse. 

while you admired him for his beauty and intelligence, you also felt intimidated by him. so when the truth spilled that v liked you despite your normalcy and humanity, you were both ecstatic and terrified.

how could such a creature as refined and alluring as him came to love you, a simple human? how could he choose you, a person who never loved anyone before?

for a long time, you knew not his reason behind falling in love with you. perhaps there was no reason as, after all, love wasn’t a choice.

slowly afterwards, v moved in with you and in return, you learned more about him–but not all of him. 

he was always prone to bouts of lethargy after a fight. you held him as you basked in his warmth, loving the way he nuzzled against you. your hands wandered through his locks of black hair, feeling him quiver with pleasure.

“for he calls himself a lamb. he is meek and he is mild. he became a little child.” v’s soothing voice spilled out, drawing invisible marks on your skin as he brushed his lips against it. he shifted and you took the moment to lean your back to the wall while your legs stretched forward.

he followed, drawn to your body with a gaze unrelenting and firm. for a moment, you felt your heart stop and then reignite with a thunderous chorus of beats as he cupped your cheeks and drew in for a kiss. 

the motion was slow and unhurried. he tasted like night and the earthy sweetness of a flourishing garden. it should’ve made you wonder why his kisses always felt strangely hypnotic but it didn’t. instead, you felt restless, every kiss from him peeling open another layer of yourself for him to see. never had you felt so naked but so alive and powerful. 

in return, you wanted to encapsulate him into an embrace until nobody knew where you began and where he ended. 

you don’t speak as he pulled away, only because you don’t see the need to break this moment full of grace and love that v was weaving. 

a smile adorned your face until you notice something on his cheek: a scar. yet it was similar to a porcelain vase or the cracks of a dry landscape; his skin looked like it may scatter into the air. “v your fa-” you stopped, a gasp tearing out from you before v placed one slender finger upon your lips. 

“your line should be: little lamb, god bless thee,” he told you calmly. beneath the darkness of his green eyes, you could see the warmth. you could also see something else, just a feeble glint of it, but it was deafening to you. v knew, of course, he knew of his state. but he didn’t care to show it. 

instead of pursuing the matter, you decided to relent and change the subject. setting your hands on your lap, you straightened your back.

“do you think of me as...god?” your voice was tentative, almost meek. if you were any other person, you might have felt pride, if not a bit odd. for this powerful man who commanded demons thought of you with such awe and worship. but you weren’t anyone else, you were uncertainty in love, a confused creation in love, lust, and loss for words. 

(v once commented that you were a poem yourself. too strange and unfathomable for the poets, dead or living, to describe.) 

“if you would like that,” he answered. “if god is kind and gentle, then it must be you.” a soft smile curled onto his features. then you felt him take your hand in his. “as for me, i am but a lamb, humbled under your touch,” he paused, lifting up your hand to press a kiss upon your knuckles. “or i could be the tiger. i can destroy and ruin for you, if you so much as ask.” his voice drifted off, just as his teeth skimmed the tender skin of your hand. there was a lilt in his last words, delicately teasing a promise he could fulfill so long as you uttered a word.

gulping, you felt heat blossom upon your face. dark and warm, a sweetness that dripped into tight coils within your stomach as you watched him. for a moment, all concern vanished into an electric sensation that jolted your limbs into movement. you tugged him close into a dizzying kiss. v was always pliant when you kissed him first but this time he melted into it. 

he felt so soft, so unlike that of a battle-weary soldier. as for you, you felt strengthened to layer as much of your love onto him as possible. there were no boundaries tonight, only the desire for him. 

in one split second, v cradled your cheek, tilting it up to lick at the bottom of your lip. “how would you want me tonight, dear (name)?” he asked with a sultry purr. 

you felt his knee scrape against your inner thigh, before settling where you wanted him the most. but no, that wasn’t enough; you wanted more, more, more of him. so you drew your lips toward the shell of his ear, one hand curling around the lapels of his jacket. 

“i want you like the day you were born,” you told him in a heated whisper. “naked and desperate for touch.” 

you were awoken from your memory by a distant rumble. each passing tremor was felt underneath your fingers as you looked around. then you remembered why you were here so you stood up, gaze trailing up the steep path covered in red. 

with the phantom remnants of the memory still clinging onto you, your body felt heated and it trembled. the sliver of sweet coil persisted in your stomach, up until you heard a faraway growl that signified a demon’s presence. all loving memories and the feeling they gave birth to disappeared as your mind came into reality. 

you needed to get out of here. 

the last time you saw v felt so long ago. he had something to accomplish: to see to a certain demon’s end, that was what he said. v had always been driven by his hatred of evil and his mission to eradicate all evils from this world. but that time you noticed the flicker of something in his eyes. there was determination, but a sense of letting go, too. that time, you wished you never knew him so well like that, because v was always honest with his emotions and desires. as for you, you had the irritating ability to truly know others. 

“all evil must be purged, they–” before he could finish he almost lost his balance, body swaying as if ready to fall. you were quick by his side, clothes sticking to your body by a mixture of blood and demonic body fluids. 

you winced as you saw his skin crumbling like dust as you touched him. at first, you debated on sitting him down, but v was quick to notice as he brought your body towards his. 

he pressed himself into you and you held one arm around him. you couldn’t look at him anymore so you settled on some distant sight. “you need rest v,” you told him. you never wanted to scold him but your voice came out as such, intermingled with worry. 

at first, you thought he may refuse. but then v looked at you, his quiet eyes beholding everything that would blossom when they gazed into your eyes. he nodded, a movement that you almost missed. 

“one last time, for the both of us,” he said softly, yet desperately. “help me take these off, i-i want you to hold me without obstruction.” 

his request was responded by a weak whimper from you, fueled by an overwhelming spell of confusion and love. still, you obliged if only to spend more time with him. somewhere in the distance, griffon trilled for the first time. you could have felt warmth in you but instead, you felt a growing coldness and despair. you knew something was wrong the moment you reached for his jacket and peeled it back. 

he had always been thin, but when you shed his clothing you noticed the bruises and scars that accentuated his physique. watching his body covered in not only bruises and scratch marks but also cracks made you want to drag him out of this battle. even still, you knew that he wouldn’t let you and that the best you could do was offer him affection in this trying time. 

there was something poignantly tragic about v’s existence, you realized. that maybe he was only put here, in this world, to accomplish a certain task. even v knew that his chapter in this story may be coming to an end. perhaps that was why he took this moment to be near you. he was so close to you when you started removing his clothing. he was so close you could see every littlest scar and crack, and every bumps and ridge on his skin. 

when his upper clothing were all discarded onto the muddy earth, he took you into his embrace. v was always odd when it came to physical affection; he much preferred feeling you with his naked body, and if it was in your room, you would be naked too. 

he held you tightly as if he wanted to imprint your body into his memory. you too wrapped your arms around him, hoping in some way that this moment would last forever. 

“come back to me v, don’t go,” you said quietly, sighing against his skin. v visibly tensed and for a moment, you did as well. 

then he forced himself to relax as he pressed a chaste kiss to the shell of your ear. “i love that you love me and i, too, love you (name).”

there was a finality to his words, but you forced yourself to listen quietly. closing your eyes, you laid your chin upon his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. 

(what separated fate and destiny, you realized, was a tragedy.)

and then, with a heavy burden upon him, v bid you farwell, calling for griffon to escort you somewhere safe. but you knew that regardless of where this safe place was, only v was the safest for you. this was a memory bitter and sweet for you to remember, but it satisfied the silence that was your trek upwards. 

your body shivered as the temperature dropped sharply. though you were cold and alone, you still hoped that you could see v again. nero and dante had several near-death experiences before, you thought, so v will be okay. 

you could almost hear his silky voice nearby you, a note on the passing wind. briefly, you stopped, closing your eyes and breathing in the scent of the air. it’s close now, with only a few more steps to take. quivering, you stumble forward until you finally reached solid ground. the first in what felt like hours, just as your body gave away. distinct noises of wings lured your wavering stare into the sky. the dark shape of griffon hung in the air, watching you with emotionless eyes. 

“hey, hey you wi’ me there?” he asked, voice penetratingly loud and clear. you smelled fetid stench clinging onto his feathered breast, implying a recent battle with demons. 

you ignored him for a moment, eyes scanning the half-charred battleground. no solid corpses, only the empty husks of human victims drained of their blood. you were too tired to match griffon’s voice in its loudness and clarity, but you willed yourself to demand an answer from him. “where’s v?” 

“he left uh...something t’ attend to,” the bird replied with an angry squawk. 

for a moment, you felt your legs giving down as the thought of moving deeper into the area sent a new wave of terror into you. but then you noticed a movement, two forms that you knew well, but not the ones you wanted to see. 

the black feline and his titanous companion came out of the darkness, but there was no v behind them.

griffon perched himself on top of the towering behemoth, nightmare, before saying, “look we know v wanted us to keep you here but ya gotta know somethin’, somethin’ v wanted to hide from ya. go through this place and make yer way up. don’t worry, no demons will bother ya.” 

fettered by the will to see v again, you wrapped your arms around your body and followed griffon’s words. before you disappeared into yet another unknown, you threw a glance to the three demons. 

“don’t worry about us, we got somethin’ to do. now go!” 

griffon’s words were firm, a far cry from his usual quips and mocking jokes. something was clawing at the back of your neck, urging you to ask more questions. instead, you relented and made your way forward, wondering what you will see. 

so you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment just as you saw a distant shape of light ahead. while you desperately wanted your prying thought to be false, a part of you had already accepted it. 

the trek felt longer than it looked. by then, your legs were boiling with an aching need to rest, but so too was the rest of you. from time to time you threw your head back, hoping griffon and the rest were going to appear. a sinking thought occurred to you that that may have been the last you would ever see of them. it wasn’t a good thought, but you still needed to move forward. 

when you finally stepped out into the open field, you saw something that turned your insides into ice. 

v stabbing his cane into the body of a fallen demon. 

dante running towards him just as a ray of light enveloped v and the creature. 

and then, as you attempted to make your way to the light, it vanished and in the exact same spot stood someone else. 

not v. 

not the demon.

but a man. 

“great things are done when men and mountain meet.”

v’s soothing voice seems to drift into your mind as you watched the stranger. in that moment, you didn’t know why you remembered those words, but v had recited them the last time he was in your house. clutching at your chest, you attempted to move forward, only for your feet to get caught in a raised root. 

“don’t move, hide.” again, you heard v but you couldn’t see him. panicking, you looked around hoping that some part of him was still here–lest you were becoming mad. 

you quickly ducked behind a gnarled root, body pressed against grimy substances as you clasped your hands to your mouth. your chest rose and fell in heavy motions just as your mind replayed the scene over and over. 

v was gone. he was gone and he was, he was–

for a while, you didn’t notice the way your body carried you away. there was a disconnect between your physical and mental self that numbed you. an invisible hand strangled you, taking root within your brain. 

shock had you in a chokehold as you stopped, one hand planted on the wall of a dilapidated building drowned in alien plants and dried blood. while you could return and watch the aftermath, a part of you just knew. 

that v was no longer in existence.

[silverxblade]

One day, you were crying because you had a nightmare that felt way too real. Elesis was passing by your door and heard your sniffing; then she came in to comfort you. After talking, she ends up sleeping with you with your head on her lap (she was caressing your hair). You're awake. Do you stay as you are and enjoy her warmth or do you get up and take her to her room? Also, how do you feel about having her caressing you?

「  Drabble 」

                              ⚔  ▸▸ Sins are forever STAINED upon the soul.

            It ached and twisted, tugging at your life like playing a dirge tune of despair. It burns on the conscious, screaming at his mind like a screeching harpy. Never letting restful sleep to comfort weary body, as it continuously ravages him, in the form of nightmares. Faceless phantoms, angry eyes. Harsh and hurtful words flung as those fingers accusingly points at him. Rightfully they are; he was G U I LT Y as the blood stains on his hands. Lament and despair at the fate and destiny dealt with him, in misfortune cards. Hands that never could win.

                    But only embrace and endure…

                                  And endure… and endure… until it B R E A K S him.

               Into tiny little pieces of shattered glass. The fragility of the human heart, it aches in multiples of ways, it was suffocating to breathe. In the end. Lass Isolet always finds himself retreating to his wrong, face full of tears, hidden from his companion… in a silent cry. To end this misery bestow upon him. It was so  U N F A I R . Screaming at himself why must this happen. The cold, and rigid personality adopted to push away the hurt, emotions only made him weak and hinder his performance of redemption. Pangs of pain ravage his heart, and eyes continue to gaze at him with morbid scrutiny. Knowing too well what they thought of him.

                          「 “Traitor. Dirty little traitor. TRAITOR TO HUMANITY!”」

                                                                    ‘Murderer! Monster! Freak! Just die!’

               Cover his eyes, look away. Hide the shame. All futility in an attempt to keep up a brave bravado, to water through the hatred and anger. Atonement was what’s left to do. Asking for forgiveness is what he can do… can ask for. At the cost of his life… no matter how pathetic and worthless he is. Powerless and  W E A K, with strife to stand up… even if his strength is waning. Lass does try. And kept trying. But it’ll never cover the hurt. Tonight like any other night, a nightmarish hateful gaze of the very people he swore an oath to protect, the haunting of soulless innocents he’d slaughtered clawing at his dreams. Lass could never win. Only to hold himself, before falling apart at the seams. Hidden from others, in the dark of loneliness…

                  Tears seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

                                   It was useless to cry, such as the fragility of being a human.

                 Lass H A T E D it. Incapable of containing his emotions. So he let out the tears, the dam broke. Let out the hurt he’d held in for so long, suppressed it as far as he could. Pretend he was okay, playoff cool as possible. Until he broke again, weeping his eyes out until there are no more tears left. Men aren’t allowed to cry, a soldier has no business with emotions, but to fight and die for their cause. As long as no one sees… he’s A L L O W E D. If only… prying his face from the shadows, warm and soft hands, callous from gripping a weapon for so long. Pull up to stare into compassionate red eyes. The salvation to his pain, the soothing to his hurt. in a gentle voice, comforting him.

                     「 “Lass, you know you are allowed to cry.” 」

                                         Tender caress was the soothing aloe to his burn.

                 Can he be selfish? Please, pitiful begging, feeling like that small child once more… reaching out toward the fading shadows of his brother’s tailcoat… to help him from this place. Only to have hope shattered and C R U S H E D  without mercy. Lass hides his face into her neck, tears falling drenching her night pajamas with patches of wetness. He held her, loving the tender and care caresses being graced to his wounded soul. Let him be selfish… and hold her for the night, holding her for dear life. She is his world, his savior, his salvation… the guidance of the light, with the burning fire through the darkness.

             「  “I cried too, we’re only human.”」 He didn’t let her go for the night.

                                                  …it was then, he’d come to a startling conclusion.

                  Lass Isolet was in love with Elesis Sieghart. Unfortunately… it was impossible for them. There will be nothing will blossom from this feeling. It was D O O M E D before it could start. That was when he was fifteen. Since he’d joined the cause and Elesis Sieghart became his savior and light. The one person, he would die for… and follow through Hell and back. Lass would only admire afar, be beautiful in his dreams.. and cherished every moment he has with her. And memorized her warm smiles and burning ablaze passion… because she’ll never know, how he truly felt, it was best it remains this way. No matter how many decades later, he’ll still love her, she is… his world. Thus his feelings would be buried…

                           …Nothing would come out of it, he’s just.. an abomination.

[edelwoodsouls]

family (can be a goddess and her alien daughter) - part 1

I have no plan for this story but it was about to be deleted from my notes on ao3 and its 2:30AM and I am Tired so we’ll just have to see where this goes

Tags: Mom!Diana, Genius!Kara, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst

Words: 1,920

Also on Ao3

From the mountain Diana can see the comet the moment it breaks the atmosphere. It's small for a meteor, a strange metallic colour which shines silver in the light of the slowly rising sun. Fire snarls around it, roaring louder and more violently with increasing speed and volume.

It's heading straight for Midvale.

Diana wants to curse. Its only dawn, but the mountain is still crawling with people who want to avoid the intensity of the midday summer sun. A middle-aged couple are ambling up the path only a few metres ahead, discussing the pros and cons of marshmallows as a breakfast food; behind her she can hear the vague chatter of a school group.

The comet is still gaining speed, and now she can make out the glint of glass and metal - it isn't a comet at all. She's never seen anything like it - shaped and sleek, clearly designed for travel over great distances. Such an elegant object should surely move with more grace; instead it spins, tumbling in freefall without any sign of control.

She's still dressed in her civilian clothes, and of course this is the one time she decided to leave her costume in France. It's been two years since she came out of retirement to stop Slipknot, and the world has been as quiet as the world of men can ever be. She's not the only superhero in the world anymore, what with the appearance of that obnoxiously brightly-coloured man in Metropolis and the whispered rumours of a bat man patrolling the streets of Gotham. She's allowed herself to relax, to take a step back, letting the weight of the world rest on younger, less weary shoulders.

The couple disappear around a bend in the tree-clad path, and before she can think better of it Diana launches herself into the air.

She hasn't flown in a long time - hasn't allowed herself to - and the feeling takes her breath away. The wind tugs at her hair, whilstling past her ears like a whisper. At that exact moment the sun crests on the horizon, drowning the world in a dazzling pink-tinged light reflected off the side of every building in the city.

In moments like this, Diana almost feels like she's home.

The crack and roar of fire streaking across the sky breaks the illusion of peace. The ship has reached its terminal velocity, flames streaming out behind it like a tail. She has seconds to intervene before it crashes into the town hall.

In the end she guides it in the direction of the mountain. It groans, as if pushing against her efforts. Fire licks at her arms, but she barely feels the heat, barely notices as the sleeves of her clothes begin to smoke. The descent is entirely out of her control now, and it's all she can do to cling to the metal of the ship as they tumble.

She lets go at the last second, crashing straight into a tree. Cracks echo in her ears like blasts of lightning as the branches snap under her weight, wood scratching at her now-bare arms.

She comes to a stop, finally, hitting the earth with a thud. The breath vanishes from her lungs, a huge branch pinning her chest and impaling her stomach, and for a few seconds all she can do is lie there, desperately trying to regain her senses. She can't recall the last time her body ached quite this much - every limb and joint feels like lead, weighted and unmovable. It takes every ounce of her strength to shove the branch away from her; it goes flying down the hill.

After a few tries she manages to tug the snapped wood from her stomach. The hole left behind is a gaping red chasm that makes her shudder - it hurts to move and breathe - but it will heal quickly. She tears a strip from the bottom of her ruined shirt, tying it tightly around her torso. In seconds the material is soaked, but it will have to suffice; suddenly she can hear screams. They split the air, ringing and weighted with more grief and pain than Diana can bear to listen to.

They're coming from the same direction as the ship.

Diana's heart plunges, her body frozen in shock. This forest is private property, clustered at the bottom of the mountain - there shouldn't be anyone here.

And yet there is.

She makes it to the clearing in a matter of seconds. It's more a crater than a clearing, the mud and earth displaced easily on impact. The trees surrounding it are singed or smouldering, the ones under it flattened and splintered; they didn't stand a chance.

Now that it's stationary Diana can see the clear craftsmanship of the not-meteor. Despite its horrific arrival, and her own attempts to alter its course, the outside is pristine but for a few soot marks. It's shape is streamlined, made of a silver metal Diana can't quite identify. The glass set into the top half of it is fogged up with black, but she can still make out the vague flickering of movement within.

The screaming comes again - from inside the pod.

She jumps into the crater, then hesitates. She has no idea what could reside inside this tiny, inocuous, destructive ship. It is undoubtedly alien, and she has seen enough in the past few years to know that not all who visit this planet come in peace. The thing inside could be dangerous - it could put humanity at risk.

Nothing that dangerous could have a scream so heartbreaking.

Diana curls her fingers into the glass, hooking them around a tendril of metal and wrenching. It takes a tremendous amount of strength, but eventually the metal gives way and snaps. She throws it away behind her.

She doesn't know what she was expecting to find inside. A creature of some kind, with green skin or two heads, maybe. Human pop culture has influenced her more than she would like to admit.

She definitely isn't expecting this.

The girl inside the pod can't be older than thirteen human years. Diana can see the girl's body is thin and malnourished, even obscured as it is by the loose, pristine white dress she's wearing, curled in on herself and shaking with violent sobs. A curtain of straight red hair obscures her face; small hands clutch at her ears in pain.

With no glass between them the screams are infinitely louder, and Diana can feel her heart fracturing with every second.

She kneels, unsure of what else to do, and reaches a hand out to - she's not sure what. Comfort the girl? Let her know she's not alone?

Whatever her intentions are, they don't matter, as the second her fingers make contact with the girl's bare skin she freezes, her head shooting up to look at Diana with piercing blue eyes. There's a chasmic depth to those eyes that makes her want to shiver - eyes she recognises from the mirror every morning, eyes that can't - shouldn't - exist on a girl so young.

"Ta- tanahn rip?" The girl stumbles in her words, sobs still spasming in her lungs, but Diana has enough experience with language to know from the way her mouth forms the syllables, the way they slip off her tongue like water, that this is her native language.

But to Diana they're nothing but sounds.

It throws her momentarily. She's never encountered a language she can't speak; this girl's language is alien to her in more ways than one.

She moves slowly, wary of startling the girl, whose body now shivers with tension as the crying subsides, and puts her hand on her chest. "I am Diana."

The girl blinks, eyes wide and flickering between the hand on Diana's chest and her face. "Die-anna," she says slowly, rolling the syllables slowly. Then she puts her own hand on her chest. "Khap nahn Kara Zor-El."

"Kara?" Diana asks, picking out the one word from the girl's sentence which sounds most like a name and hoping for the best. "That's a beautiful name."

The ship whirrs and beeps suddenly, startling both Diana and the girl, who after a second of hesitation tears her eyes away from Diana to look at the screen in front of her. Symbols flash and fly, strangely shaped characters Diana can't understand.

Her eyes are drawn to the one she does recognise, emblazoned in relief on Kara's chest: the symbol of Metropolis' resident alien superhero, Superman. Shaped like an S inside a diamond, it's hard to forget.

Her thoughts are distracted when the ship starts speaking. "Iwahzrham," the voice is crackling and full of static. "Rth Ehngiuo."

Things begin flashing on the screen again, and Diana realises with a start that they're no longer alien to her - they're English. The information flashes almost faster than she can comprehend, but Kara's eyes flicker back and forth across the screen with incredible speed.

As soon as the stream of information ends, the screens going black with a quick, unhealthy-sounding fizz, Kara blinks, wiping her eyes and sniffing before looking up at Diana. "I... I am Kara Zor-El, of Krypton."

The words are fractured and awkward in her mouth, but they're English. Diana stares at the girl, unable to quite comprehend what has just happened.

"What is Krypton?" she asks, shoving her amazement down so as not to frighten the girl - she knows well enough what it's like to be watched like a freak of nature, a dancing mokey in front of a circus audience.

"My home." Kara says slowly. She begins to stand up, but her legs shake and give way under her. Diana reaches out instinctively, holding the girl up. Lifting her out of the pod, she sets her down gently to sit on its lip.

"Your planet?" Kara nods. "Are you okay?"

Kara cocks her head to the side for a second. "My body is not impaired."

Diana decides not to push - she can easily hear the tremor in Kara's voice, and there's a fragility to her figure, on a knife edge between stability and shattering into a million pieces. "Can I help you?" she asks instead.

"I must find my cousin. I am here to protect him."

"Your cousin?"

"Kal-El."

The name sounds familiar, ringing bells somewhere in Diana's head, the answer just out of reach. Before she can voice her suspicions, however, she hears the tell-tale screech of sirens in the distance, the rhythmic, struggling roar of engines speeding uphill.

Kara flinches, clasping her hands over her ears as she looks wildly around her. "Iovis ulahdh," her voice breaks with pain. "That sound. It's so- loud."

"Come with me." Diana reaches her hand out. "I can take you somewhere safe. We can find your cousin." She's not sure what's possessing her to do this, but this girl is alone and scared. Tragedy and heartbreak seem to be sewn into her very bones; every move is weighted with a grief-filled heaviness, yet at the same time a strange lightness, as if each takes her by surprise. Diana can't simply leave her to fend for herself.

Kara doesn't even hesitate, taking hold of Diana's hand instantly. Her grip is strong, clutching like a lifeline - Diana is pretty sure her bones would be cracking, splintering into shards under the pressure, if she was human.

"Hold on," she warns Kara. Just as the first emergency vehicles crest the lip of the creator, Diana launches the two of them into the air.

[dolorousedditor]

Untitled Robbaery

(Haven’t posted much writing here lately so here’s a glimpse of a side project that grabbed my attention last summer)

Basic premise follows the SuperTullys. Cat and Edmure do right or fuck up in the best ways possible.

ROBB

He shouldn’t be here.

Standing within a ruined castle, sweltering beneath the midday sun, all of this only deepened his unease.

The yard was overgrown and much of it filled with the crumbled stone of a collapsed keep. Although little save its broken foundations remained intact, the castle’s massive curtain walls still stood, marred only by the unchecked spread of moss and vines, which crept up the stone like tendrils.

There’d be no need for ladders or ropes to scale these walls. Several castles here in the Westerlands had fallen to him after such assaults. Yet Robb could not claim credit for the devastation wrought upon Tarbeck Hall.

The lions did this. House Tarbeck joined with the Reynes of Castamere in rising against Casterly Rock.

And Tywin Lannister destroyed them for it.

Grey Wind stirred at his side, the direwolf answering the grim thoughts with a whine. Unlike his friend, Robb could not afford to let his worries show. Not while his bannermen were near. Galbart Glover, Ser Wendel Manderly, Ser Patrek Mallister, Dacey Mormont, he caught all glancing at him now and again. Looking to their king for guidance, wisdom, strength.

Expecting everything of him.

To be king is more than a title to boast. It is a duty. One judged by deed and how we face the whirlwind.

None stared with the intensity of Lord Rickard Karstark, whose severe features betrayed his impatience. The lord knew as Robb did. That Tywin Lannister had crossed the Red Fork and was at this very moment rushing to drive them from his domains. The lion had taken the bait but few had been in the mood to celebrate. Not with the ironmen ravaging the North.

Karstark was not alone in disdaining how he’d handled Balon Greyjoy’s treachery. The lord’s mood had soured further when, instead of taking the fight to their foes, Robb brought them here.

As he adjusted his crown, he sought the reason for their diversion. The sun had made the circlet of iron swords hot to the touch, yet his lady mother’s face remained cool and impassive as they waited. Lady Catelyn wore a gown of blue and red, the colors of House Tully, as she stood proudly beneath a Stark banner. While it flapped in the gentle breeze, the Lady of Winterfell did not waiver.

Until their eyes met and she raised an eyebrow.

“They will come,” Lady Catelyn said, sensing his thoughts. “We were early after all.”

“No, we were wary. If this is a trap, let them try and spring it with my men dug in and ready.”

He’d led three thousand to Tarbeck Hall. His archers ringed the walls, his cavalry arrayed on a hill to the east, and the Blackfish’s outriders watched all approaches for any sign of treachery.

That gnawed at him. For he was already guilty of considering a betrayal of his own.

“Lord Tyrell and his family have not come so far to act recklessly,” the lady continued. “Were that his intent, we would not hold such esteemed guests.”

The hostages she spoke of were cousins to Lord Mace Tyrell and a son of Lord Mathis Rowan. All members of the escort that accompanied Lady Catelyn to the battlefields of the west.

He’d sent his mother to the Reach to seek an alliance with Renly Baratheon and his southron allies. When word came of Renly’s death and how Stannis was willing to war against his own brother to secure the throne for himself, his hopes were dashed. Hence Robb’s surprise when, while his army raided the lands south of Casterly Rock, their outriders did spot an equal force marching north towards them. Not army of lions, but one of roses.

To find his mother among them came as a shock, yet it paled to that he felt to hear the proposal she carried.

“I cannot marry Margaery Tyrell. I am promised to another,” he would remind her. “A betrothal you arranged for me. One sworn in good faith to Lord Frey.”

“I had not forgotten,” Lady Catelyn did reply. “Nor has it slipped my mind how that betrothal was strangled from us by Late Lord Frey. A man who extorted our family when he should have done his duty by my father. What loyalty is owed to a man who shows none himself?”

“There is the duty I owe myself. To do the honorable thing,” he had said. “Would Mace Tyrell truly want a man so callous to wed his daughter?”

“Renly served well enough. Mace and the Reach lords were willing to aid him in usurping Stannis’s claim and Renly did not prove himself half as worthy as you. No Stark has done what you’ve managed in generations. The realm holds its breath at every move the Young Wolf makes.”

“What are my bannermen to think should I make this move? To abandon a sworn vow?”

“Your men are drunk with victory, Robb. They’ve grown accustomed to it. Now with the North under attack, they’ll hunger for vengeance against the Greyjoys just as they do the Lannisters. A marriage to Margaery Tyrell gives you the strength to sate their bloodlust. Wed this girl and the war is yours to win.”

She need not have said so. He was not so blind as to see the opportunity being handed him. A Frey wife won him four thousand men and a fragile kingdom. A Tyrell bride could deliver twenty times what the Freys had and help him deliver on all he’d promised he would as king. Not only to his men but to his family.

To himself.

His mouth was dry and heart heavy when he gave voice to it all.

“I want to get back to the North. To Bran and Winterfell. To have my sisters returned to us and justice done by father,” Robb had stared deep into his mother’s eyes at that. “But we both know he would be ashamed of me even considering this. Freys have died for me. They’ve fought by my side.”

“And many more may die should you reject this offer out of hand,” Lady Catelyn countered as she wrung her hands. “Your father was not perfect, Robb. He had his faults and, as deeply as I grew to love him, he did dishonor me. Still I loved him. Men served him. And he did all in his power to protect you and your brothers and sisters. Would he be proud of this? No, likely not. But he would understand. He would risk dishonor if it meant doing right by his people. By his blood.”

Robb suspected his mother would have been disappointed at how tempted he was all along. He forced remorse at the prospect of dishonouring the Freys, his mind so clouded with thoughts of the finest knights in the realm at his beck and call. With his memories of leaving Bran and Rickon behind at Winterfell, or watching Sansa and Arya depart for the south. Then came his father and the other dead. Eddard and Torrhen Karstark. Daryn Hornwood.

With Tywin Lannister approaching and the Greyjoys loose in his homeland, more were sure to fall.

Thus he agreed to meet with the Tyrells. To discuss their proposal as well as get their measure.

And to glimpse the lady who offered him both doom and salvation.

Robb’s nerves were so on edge that he nearly started when a call came down from the walls heralding an approaching party.

There were no gates left to Tarbeck Hall so the newcomers entered with ease. The Blackfish led them on, the older leather-clad knight holding the Stark banner high. He and Robb’s other guardsmen looked plain indeed compared to those of the Reach. As finely as the riverlords and westermen dressed Robb was taken aback by how lavish and vibrant the Tyrell party was. Among the many knights and lords two grabbed his attention almost immediately.

The elder of the two was tall and broadly built, with a well-trimmed beard and surcoat bearing two golden roses. His younger companion shared many of his features and even Robb noted the lithe, golden-eyed man to be among the most handsome he’d ever laid eyes upon. All this despite the dark circles beneath his eyes and weary expression he bore.

“Southron flowers,” Lord Rickard grumbled to Galbart. He did so just quietly enough that their guests remained ignorant of the slight. Robb did not altogether disagree, for he much preferred his wools, leathers and furs to silk and satin.

Gods and this is how the men dress, I can only guess at the frill and pomp of the women…

“Your Grace!” His uncle barked from atop his horse. “Allow me to present the sers Garlan and Loras Tyrell. Good knights, before you stands the Young Wolf! King in the North, King of the Trident, Lord of Winterfell! King Robb Stark!”

“Well met, King Robb,” Ser Loras dismounted and bowed. His brother quickly following suit.

“On behalf of our father, the Lord of Highgarden, we congratulate you on your many victories and offer condolences for your terrible losses.”

“I thank you for both, Ser Garlan, Ser Loras,” Robb gestured to his mother. “And for bringing my mother safely back to my side.”

“It was our pleasure. The Seven know our sister found great comfort in her company.”

“Comfort and joy, Garlan!” A melodic voice called his attention back to the gate where more riders were arriving.

He saw her then. Flanked by twin Tyrell guardsmen and riding upon a hickory mare, ca one of the most beautiful women Robb had ever laid eyes upon. Her softly rolling curls of thick brown hair matched her lively eyes and her body was both slender and shapely. His eyes lingered upon it. Unlike the Tyrell brothers, this lady was not dressed in a grandiose fashion. Her gown was a simple green, with golden stitching about the sleeves and bust. Pinned there was a rose wrought in gold, though its loveliness paled to the wearer.

Or the shy smile she offered as Ser Loras helped her dismount. Then it was Ser Garlan’s arm she took to stand before the northern party.

“My son, allow me to introduce the Lady Margaery Tyrell,” Lady Catelyn said. This bid Margaery to curtsy before him, those lovely eyes falling to the ground before seeking his again.

“It is an honor, my king,” the lady stayed low, “may the old gods and the new grant favor upon you and your sword.”

“As I wish for you and your family, my lady,” he said. Still she did not rise so Robb held out his hand to take a hold of hers. Her touch was warm, her fingers lightly running across his to take hold of his hand. Such gentleness felt most welcome after all these months of war.

A memory of Theon at the Crag came back. Of how the Greyjoy heir smiled as young Jeyne Westerling helped tend the wound Theon had taken in storming her castle.

“Well worth that arrow to enjoy such a fine woman’s company,” Theon had jested and sent the young lady blushing from the room.

“You’re ruining your heroic repute,” Robb had replied. “The men are saying you took that arrow to spare me. That couldn’t be so. Not after you cursed me for sending others to treat with Lord Balon rather than his own son.”

Theon’s smirk had faltered then.

“I knew Lady Stark didn’t trust me. Finding out my brother felt the same…”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. Lord Balon has only kept the faith when we hold something he values.”

“You mean when you hold a sword over my head,” Theon had snapped. Rubbing at his bandaged arm he had met Robb’s gaze fiercely.

“There was no blade at my throat when I pushed you from harm today. None when I named you a king. A brother. Would a mere captive do all that?”

“I did as a king must, Theon.”

Those words were likely less comfort to Theon than the soft bed and care Robb left him to at the Crag. The captured castle was meant to be place for Theon to heal yet soon after became his prison, for once word came of the Greyjoy betrayals he sent orders that Theon be held there. Some like Lord Karstark had demanded Theon’s head in response but Robb had defied them.

For the nonce at least, he lamented.

That was another hard decision awaiting him. Like that the Tyrells brought with them to Tarbeck Hall. Though to look upon Margaery Tyrell was to dull its harshness.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Margaery said once he’d released her hand. Suddenly a bereaved expression crossed her face.

“Dear brothers, I must say we have been poorly served in the word we’ve had of our host.”

“Oh?” Ser Garlan raised an eyebrow.

“Among all those testaments to his warrior’s skill and glorious campaigns, I recall no mention of his handsome bearing. If the truth was known most maidens of the Reach would forget his youth and name him the Comely Wolf.”

Dacey Mormont’s snort was nearly covered by Ser Garlan’s chuckling. Robb was bemused by the flattery, which was a rare occurrence in an army of northmen.

“That may give my foes the wrong impression,” he pointed out and brought a mirthful glint to Margaery’s eye.

“Do you imagine they’d expect someone taller?”

[mygreatestflaw]

There is nothing simple about loving the girl with the guarded heart.

She is not convinced by flowers and fancy dinners, nor won over by compliments and praise. In the beginning she is a slow dance, one step toward you, another step back, as she learns to trust the ways of your heart and the strength of your arms. The dance may be slow but it cannot be rushed, for she will sense the impatience of your steps and the way they fall out of time with hers. Dance with her. Follow the measure of her steps and in time, she will soon look to follow yours.

She will not show you her heart all at once, instead offer you a little at a time, unhurried and watchful of the way you hold each fragile piece. She longs for you to understand how much it takes her to show you these pieces; for you to trace your fingers over the scars left behind from others, to feel the whisper of your breath against her neck as you promise to hold her heart with more care than those who came before. There are parts of her heart that remain unreachable, parts she has buried under layers she will never reveal. Love these parts of her, the parts unseen, the shadows of her soul. For even the sky knows without darkness, the stars cannot adorn us with their light.

She will watch you closer than you realise, listen to every word you speak and weigh it against every action, searching for inconsistencies, seeking the truth of your word and the intention of your heart. Not because she can’t trust you, but because she is cautious, alert, wary; the stories of her past still etched upon her mind. She isn’t ready to trust her heart with you. Not yet. Not until she knows you are a man of your word, a man of steadfast hands and unchanging ways.

There is a part of her that will always remain a little detached, ready to run if she thinks her heart will get damaged again. She no longer believes in second chances, having used all of them on those undeserving of such grace. To hurt her means to lose her, for she would sooner be alone than risk losing the life she has fought so damn hard to rebuild with her own wearied hands. She isn’t there because she needs you. She doesn’t need anyone. She’s there because she has chosen you, because she wants you, because she believes you are worth the risk. And all she asks is for you not to prove her wrong in the chance she has taken, for it has cost her more than you know.

She will need more reassurance than most, she will need you to stay present, available, mindful of her scars. She will think too much, talk too little, cry too often, ask too many questions, struggle to rest in your love. She is complex. Complicated. Perplexing. Sometimes difficult.

But beyond her guarded heart lies a soul that contains the wonders of the universe. One that longs to live and love with abandon, that desires connection and intimacy and to be in relationship with someone who sees both her beauty and her scars, and knows how to fall in love with both.

She holds within her a fierce spirit; brave, strong, courageous, unrelenting; yet is also the quiet and the calm, a place to take shelter against the fury of the wind on storm-filled days. She is nurture, she is passion. She is a touch of madness against ordinary skies, a vulnerable heart with a fearless soul, a barefoot warrior who follows no trails but sets her own path.

She is grounded in her truth, accepting of her flaws, far from perfect but closer to real than most. She is wildflowers and ocean currents and meadows that dance upon the breath of summer winds, uncontained in earthly beauty and free in spiritual grace.

Broken, she knows what it means to suffer. But out of the depths of her suffering, she has come to understand love. And her guarded heart waits for the one who understands it too.

No, there may be nothing simple about loving the girl with the guarded heart.

But every day you choose to love her, she’ll prove to you why she’s worth it.

[cspiers808]

WHAT IT MEANS TO LOVE THE GIRL WITH THE GUARDED HEART Sep 2, 2017 What It Means To Love The Girl With The Guarded Heart. There is nothing simple about loving the girl with the guarded heart. She is not convinced by flowers and fancy dinners, nor won over by compliments and praise. In the beginning she is a slow dance, one step toward you, another step back, as she learns to trust the ways of your heart and the strength of your arms. The dance may be slow but it cannot be rushed, for she will sense the impatience of your steps and the way they fall out of time with hers. Dance with her. Follow the measure of her steps and in time, she will soon look to follow yours. She will not show you her heart all at once, instead offer you a little at a time, unhurried and watchful of the way you hold each fragile piece. She longs for you to understand how much it takes her to show you these pieces; for you to trace your fingers over the scars left behind from others, to feel the whisper of your breath against her neck as you promise to hold her heart with more care than those who came before. There are parts of her heart that remain unreachable, parts she has buried under layers she will never reveal. Love these parts of her, the parts unseen, the shadows of her soul. For even the sky knows without darkness, the stars cannot adorn us with their light. She will watch you closer than you realise, listen to every word you speak and weigh it against every action, searching for inconsistencies, seeking the truth of your word and the intention of your heart. Not because she can’t trust you, but because she is cautious, alert, wary; the stories of her past still etched upon her mind. She isn’t ready to trust her heart with you. Not yet. Not until she knows you are a man of your word, a man of steadfast hands and unchanging ways. There is a part of her that will always remain a little detached, ready to run if she thinks her heart will get damaged again. She no longer believes in second chances, having used all of them on those undeserving of such grace. To hurt her means to lose her, for she would sooner be alone than risk losing the life she has fought so damn hard to rebuild with her own wearied hands. She isn’t there because she needs you. She doesn’t need anyone. She’s there because she has chosen you, because she wants you, because she believes you are worth the risk. And all she asks is for you not to prove her wrong in the chance she has taken, for it has cost her more than you know. She will need more reassurance than most, she will need you to stay present, available, mindful of her scars. She will think too much, talk too little, cry too often, ask too many questions, struggle to rest in your love. She is complex. Complicated. Perplexing. Sometimes difficult. But beyond her guarded heart lies a soul that contains the wonders of the universe. One that longs to live and love with abandon, that desires connection and intimacy and to be in relationship with someone who sees both her beauty and her scars, and knows how to fall in love with both. She holds within her a fierce spirit; brave, strong, courageous, unrelenting; yet is also the quiet and the calm, a place to take shelter against the fury of the wind on storm-filled days. She is nurture, she is passion. She is a touch of madness against ordinary skies, a vulnerable heart with a fearless soul, a barefoot warrior who follows no trails but sets her own path. She is grounded in her truth, accepting of her flaws, far from perfect but closer to real than most. She is wildflowers and ocean currents and meadows that dance upon the breath of summer winds, uncontained in earthly beauty and free in spiritual grace. Broken, she knows what it means to suffer. But out of the depths of her suffering, she has come to understand love. And her guarded heart waits for the one who understands it too. No, there may be nothing simple about loving the girl with the guarded heart. But every day you choose to love her, she’ll prove to you why she’s worth it. By Kathy Parker

http://christinasuire0817.blogspot.com/2017/09/what-it-means-to-love-girl-with-guarded.html?m=1

[mauvaisxander]

Fanmix Masterpost

All my fanmixes sorted by fandom under the cut. I’m working on putting all my old fanmixes on it now, and will be updating it as I make new mixes. 

Agents Of Shield

     Daisy

          Fault Line

          Lies Made Visible 

     Daisy/Fitz

          Walk The Line

     Daisy/Simmons

          The Great Unknown

     Daisy/Trip

          Change The Weather

     Fitz/Simmons

          All My Broken Heartbeats

          A New Equation

          I Follow You (Deep Sea Baby)

     Trip

          These Small Hours

Anna Karenina

     Anna/Vronsky

          Constellations And Dreams

Arrested Development

     GOB/Tony

          This Could Be Magic, After All

A Song Of Ice And Fire

     Ashara

         With Grace In Your Heart And Flowers In Your Hair

     Brienne

          I Am Not A Maiden Fair

     Brienne/Jaime

          Only Love Can Save Us Now

     Daenerys

          My Voluntary Blindness

     General

          Put On Your War Paint

     Robb/Theon

          A Shock Of Death

     Sansa

          High On Lullabies 

     Theon

          Blossom Every Broken Part

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn

     Johnny

          Kick Drum Heart

     Sissy

          Aching To Pupate

Buffyverse

     Andrew

          Let The World Spin Madly On

          TV Taught Me How To Feel

     Andrew/Xander

          Big Crush On You

     Angel

          The Fragile Substance Of This Soul

     Angel/Buffy

          This Is Not The End

     Angel/Cordelia

          I Loved A Girl (Who Said That I Could Change The World)

          Miles From Where You Are

     Angel/Darla

          Darkest Hearts

          The Undone And The Divine

     Angel/Faith

          All My Love

     Angel Investigations

          What I Stand For

     Angel/Spike

          Nothing More Sadistic 

     Anya

          Cinder And Smoke

     Anya/Xander

          A Tightrope Tragedy

     Buffy

          I’m Only Human

          Looking For Heaven (Found The Devil In Me)

     Buffy/Faith

          Love Hunt Me Down

     Buffy/Spike

          Damage Control

          Dark Little Heaven

          Fire In The Water

          Love Me Mercilessly

          Take My Hand

          You Are Second Hand Smoke

     Connor

          Monster

     Cordelia

          Shed My Skin

     Cordelia/Doyle

          Going Going Gone

     Dawn

          Boundless And Beauty

          Keep On Dreamin’

     Dawn/Xander

          Speechless

     Drusilla/Spike

          A Dark Waltz

     Ethan/Giles

         Oxford Comma

     Faith

          Clouded With Dirt

     Faith/Giles

          Perfect (In That Fucked Up Way)

     Faith/Willow

          Walking Into Fire

     Faith/Xander

          A Dime A Dozen Kind Of Love

     Fred

          Don’t Lose Yourself

     Fred/Gunn

          I Love You (I Always Have)

          You Light Up My World

     Fred/Wesley

          I Ache For You

     General

          At The Bronze

          Darkest Before Dawn

     Giles

          A Sinners Heart

     Giles/Lilah

          Without An Honest Heart

     Illyria

          Phoenix Throne

     Illyria/Wesley

          A New Empire

     Lilah/Wesley

          Complementary Colors 

     Oz/Willow

          A Perfect Fit

          You Picked Me

     Scoobies

          A Life Worth Fighting For

     Spike

          Battle Born

     Tara/Willow

          Dreams Of Starry Nights

          Every Moment Was So Precious 

     Wesley

          My Lying Technique 

     Willow

          Darkness I Became

          Twilight Galaxy

     Women

          Bright As The Sun And As Bold As The Moon

          My Own Hero

Bully

     Cliques

          Just A Stupid Kid

     Gary/Jimmy

          Shades Of Wrong

          Strange Type Of Chemistry

     Gary/Pete

          All That You Are (Is All That I Need)

Cabin In The Woods

     General

          Doomsday

Choices Stories You Play

     Kenna

          I Won’t Run

     Kenna/Raydan

          I’d Follow

Chronicles Of Narnia

     Caspian/Edmund

          Until The Stars Fall

Community

     Abed/Troy

          Holding A Heart

Cougar Town

     Laurie/Travis

          Hearts Given Freely

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

     Greg

          Never Wanted To Stay

     Nathaniel/Rebecca

          The Chase Is All You Know

     Rebecca/Valencia

          Not Fade Away

Dead Poets Society

     Neil/Todd

          Nothing Like You And I 

Dollhouse

     Adelle

         Last Call For Sin

     Adelle/Dominic

         Falling From Your Grace

     Alpha

         Our Vintage Misery

     Alpha/Echo

          A Taste Of Poison Paradise

          Dirty Little Damsel

     Bennett/Topher

         Two Atoms In A Molecule

     Echo

          I Don’t Exist

          Memories Fade

     Echo/Paul

          Gravity Sings

     Epitaphs

         This House Is Falling Apart

     General

          Go Back To Sleep

          We Do What We Must Because We Can

     Mellie/Paul

          My Sweetest Downfall

     Sierra

          Pins In Your Fingers

     Sierra/Victor

          You’re My Everything

     Topher

          Afterglow Of Rapture

          Dead Hearts Are Everywhere

          What Fine Design

     Whiskey

          Weary Of This Melody

Don’t Trust The B In Apartment 23

     Chloe/June

          All The Violent, Sweet, Perfect Words That You Said

Downton Abbey

     Branson/Sybil

          (You’re) The Home My Heart Searched For

     Edith

          I’ve Been Waiting (For My Planets To Align)

     Thomas

          Love Is Just A Lyric In A Children’s Rhyme

Durarara!!

     Anri/Masaomi/Mikado

          By Mistake Or By Design

     Izaya/Shizuo

          Violent For You

Fallout

     Charon/Lone Wanderer 

          You’re My River

Firefly

     General

          We Stood Up

     Inara/Mal

          The Dizzy Dance

     Kaylee/Simon

          Memory Of Home

          The Bed Of Stars

     Zoe

          I Fought The War

Friday Night Lights

     General

          God Love Your Soul And Your Aching Bones

     Jason

          Strength In Pain

     Jason/Lyla

          Too Much Is How I Love You

     Jason/Lyla/Tim

          Carousel 

     Julie/Matt

          She Is The Sunlight

          Wonderstruck

     Landry/Tyra

          I Will Love Until

     Lyla

          Heart Full Of Mess And Lore

     Lyla/Tim

          Burn Me Up

          Never Gets Dull

          Our Love’s The Only Truth

     Matt

          Looking For Wisdom

     Vince

          Everybody Loves Me

Friends

     Chandler/Monica

          I Could Live On Your Love

Geek Charming

     Dylan/Josh

          Movie Loves A Screen

Hannibal

     Will

          Blood On My Name

Harry Potter

     Dean/Seamus

          Makes My Heart Scream Colors

     Harry/Hermione/Ron

          Our Hearts Are Joined

     Hermione/Ron

          The Key To Your Heart

          Will You Be The Queen? And I’ll Be Your Clown

          You’re My Favorite Book

     James/Lily

          Head Over Feet

     Luna/Neville

          Love Planted Deeply

     Percy

          The Higher I’ll Climb

     Remus/Sirius

          Born A Lion

          Lines Of Lightning 

     Ron

          The Call

     Sirius

          Ghosts That We Knew

How I Met Your Mother

     Barney

          That Boy Is All About Fun

     Barney/Robin

          A More Uncertain Future

          Change My Orbit

          Your Perfect Disaster

     Lily/Marshall

          Growing Old With You

     MacLaren’s Gang

          High 5 (Friends Til The End)

     Ted/Tracy

          I’ve Missed You But I Haven’t Met You

          Under My Umbrella

In Your Eyes

     Dylan/Rebecca

          Echo

iZombie

     Liv/Major

          You Mean The World To Me

     Liv/Major/Ravi

          More Than Life

Kill La Kill

     Elite Four

          Dire Dreams

     Ryuko

          Meaning Of Resistance

King Falls AM

     Ben/Emily/Sammy

          My Heart In Your Hands

Les Miserables

     Bossuet/Joly

          A Drop In The Ocean

     Combeferre/Jehan

          Our Own Constellations 

     Cosette/Eponine

          Spoken Words Like Moonlight

     Cosette/Marius

          Sunlight In A Jar

          Sweet Love

     Courfeyrac/Marius

          Finding Something To Do

     Enjolras/Grantaire

          Our Hands Clasped So Tight

          You’re The One (I Had To Meet)

     Jehan

          Marvelous Things

     Les Amis

          A Dream Inside Our Heads

     Marius

          The Way It Ends

Leverage

     Eliot/Hardison/Parker

          I Fall Into You

Lizzie Bennet Diaries

     Lydia

          Sweet About Me

Marvel

     Avengers

          All Is Lost, Hope Remains

     Bucky/Natasha

          Darkness In My Heart

     Bucky/Steve

          Calling Me Home

     Clint/Natasha

          Runnin’ Wild

     Elektra/Matt

          Your Devil Side

     Frank

          Cross The Line

     Jessica

          I Am Steel

     Natasha

          Fishnets And Malice

     Peggy

          Something Good Can Work

     Pepper

          Woman King

     Pepper/Tony

          Love Will Be Our Wings

Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

     Dot/Hugh

          Me Following You

     Jack/Phryne

          Anything Could Happen

          I Can’t Waste A Falling Star

Mortal Instruments/Shadowhunters

     Alec/Magnus

          I Saw Heaven’s Skies In Your Eyes

Neon Genesis Evangelion 

     Asuka

          Raise Hell

     Asuka/Shinji

          Hand In Unlovable Hand 

     General 

          People Are Just People

     Kaworu/Shinji

          A Prayer Left Unprayed 

          C’est La Vie C’est La Mort

          Nothing More Than Stardust

     Misato/Ritsuko

          One More Night

     Shinji

          I Am (Not) Running Away

          Searching For A Paradise

          You Were Just A Wish

Non Fandom

     Bumpy Relationships

          Get Me Right

     Cats

          Nine Lives

     Cheer Up

          Comedy Tonight

     Christmas Filk

          It’s A Fanboy Christmas

     Finnish Music

          Finland Finland Finland (That’s The County For Me)

     Love

          Perfect Love

     Music I Like

          #Back8Tracks

Orange Is The New Black

     Alex/Piper

          Can’t Fight Gravity

     Piper

          I’m A Guilty One

     Rosa

          Gonna Go Out In Style

Parks And Recreation

     Andy/April

          Wrap The World In Ribbons

     Ben/Leslie

          This Whole Beautiful Thing

Percy Jackson

     Calypso/Leo

          A Funny Little Thing

Person Of Interest

     Finch/Reese

         Save My Life

     Reese

          Flesh And Bone

     Root

          Remember Her Name

     Root/Shaw

          I Come With Knives (To Love You)

          Steal This Moment

Pretty Little Liars

     Alison

          I Was Born In A Summer Storm

          One Of Those Ghosts

     Alison/Emily

          A Fantasy Affair

          Law Of Gravity

     Alison/Mona

          Ruthless Game

     Aria

          Hearts From Iron

     Aria/Ezra

          How Fierce It Would Be

          Young Love

     A Team

          Is It Any Wonder That I Feel Betrayed?

     Caleb/Hanna

          A Drug For Angels

     Emily/Paige

          She Keeps Me Warm

     Emily/Spencer

          Shinin’ Just For You

     Hanna/Mona

          We’ll Be A Sweet Disaster

     Jenna

          (You Never Met A) Bitch Like Me

     Liars

          We Are Fire Born

     Melissa

          Secrets That Are Never To Be Told

     Mona

          Boom Goes The Dynamite

     Spencer

          I Am Titanium 

          Last Piece Of The Jigsaw

     Spencer/Toby

          I See Your Face In Every Star

          Lost Without You

          This Love Is Ours

Princess Tutu

     Ahiru

          Dance With Me Tonight

     Ahiru/Fakir

          Everlasting Light

     Mytho/Rue

          I Was Made For You

     Rue

          Blackbird

Psycho-Pass

     General

          Sins Original

     Kougami/Makishima

          Living With Your Ghost

     Kougami/Tsunemori

          Words In My Memory

Puella Magi Madoka Magica 

     Kyoko/Sayaka

          All Of My Stupid Love

Pushing Daisies

     Chuck/Ned

          Star-Crossed Souls Slow Dancing

Revenge

     Emily/Nolan

          For You, I Would Happily Drown

Revolutionary Girl Utena

     Anthy

          All This Sin And Strife

          Hope That Something Pure Can Last

     Anthy/Utena

          Moondance

          Pull Me Home

     General

          Stand And Fight

     Juri/Shiori

          All My Fragile Strength Is Gone

     Saionji/Touga

          Burn The Ashes

Safety Not Guaranteed

     General

          Gimme Sympathy 

Shakespeare

     Beatrice/Benedict

          Crazy Love

     Ophelia

          Rose Red

Shameless

     Fiona

          Shining Stars

     Fiona/Jimmy

          Burn To Shine

     Ian/Mickey

          Every Truth That You Denied

          Hope Is Our Four Letter Word

     Karen

          Baby You’re A Star

     Karen/Lip

          For Just One Yesterday

          The Wonderful Mess That We Made

     Kevin/Veronica

          Here Comes The Sun

     Lip

          Devil In My Mouth

Star Trek

     Cardassians

          All In Gray

     Filk

          Star Trekkin’

General

          The Future’s Not That Far Away

     Sarina/Seven

          Poetry In Motion

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

     Alexander/Nog

          A Sky Full Of Stars 

     Bashir

          Real Human Being

     Bashir/Garak

          Doctor Doctor (Give Me The News)

          Inside The Lies

          Love&Pizza

          Mosaic Broken Hearts

          No Sweeter Innocence

          The War Is Over (We Are Beginning)

          This Could Be Trouble

          Truth In Your Lies

          You Were A Kindness

     Bashir&O’Brien

          As Brothers We Will Stand

     Dax/Kahn

          Your Kiss Is Like A Lost Ghost

     Dax/Kira

          I And Love And You

          Our Private Galaxy

          You’re The Only One I See

     Garak

          Tell You A Secret

     Jake/Nog

          This Perfect Spot

          Underneath The Stars

     Keiko/Kira/Miles

          Love Was Bigger

     Kira/Odo

          (Your Love Is) Steady And Sure

     Odo/Quark

          Say That We’ll Be Nemeses

     Sisko

          Faith Is All

Star Trek: The Next Generation

     Picard/Q

          That Makes Us Human

     Riker/Troi

          A Moment Of Truth

Star Trek: The Original Series

     McCoy/Spock

          Our Calculation 

     Uhura

          A Star On The Dark Horizon

Star Trek: Voyager

     EMH I/EMH II

         Wings Of Thought

     Janeway

          Find A Home

     Janeway/Seven

          Coming To You

     Kim/Paris

          You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again

     Kim/Paris/Torres

          Fall In Love With A B Film

     Kim/Tuvok

          The Color Of The Universe

     Paris/Torres

          Falling Is Like This

          One More Chance (To Be Young And Wild And Free)

          Passion Bites

          You Make My Motor Run

     Seven

          Machine

     Suder/Tuvok

          You Are My Temptation

Stranger Things

     Jonathan/Nancy/Steve

          The Sky, The Earth, And Us

That 70′s Show

     Hyde/Jackie

          Don’t Let Me Fall

     Jackie

          Bubblegum Bitch

The Book Thief

     Liesel

          Magnolia

The Newsroom

     Don/Sloan

          Only Love

     Mackenzie/Will

          I Gave You All

          We Are Love And Misery

The Office

     Angela/Dwight

          Working Hard For You

     Jim/Pam

          The Earth Is Warmer When You Laugh

     Kelly/Ryan

          Reckless With My Heart

The West Wing

     Ainsley/Sam

          You Will Become

     C.J./Danny

          As Lovers Go

          Sweet Nothing

Welcome To Night Vale

     Carlos/Cecil

          I Hear Your Voice (And Suddenly I’m Falling)

     General

          A World Of White Blindness

Wicked

     Elphaba/Glinda

          Swan Song

Wolf 359

     Eiffel/Hera

          A Universe Inside Of You