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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

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Eddie's porn stash is a pretty conventional one. An 'if you've seen one stash you've seen them all' type. It basically only consists of skin mags, some of them kinky but most of them vanilla. Normal stuff.

The oddest thing in it is a two-year-old calendar. You know those sexy firefighter calendars? Usually a charity thing? A hit with the housewife crowd? Yeah. Except this calendar decided to branch out and include a bunch of sexy men from a bunch of sexy professions.

So, in this thing, joining the sexy firefighter is a sexy doctor, a sexy construction worker, a sexy police officer (whose month Eddie tore out and burned because fuck cops but don't ever fuck cops), a sexy librarian, and so on. They're all really good-looking, but none of them hold a candle to the paramedic.

It's weird. Paramedics aren't normally part of the traditionally sexy professions. It's messy and sometimes tragic, but lacks the high-paying glamour that doctors and nurses enjoy. Eddie's had his fair share of fantasies, and none of them involved fucking a paramedic.

Until two years ago.

The guy in the calendar simply is that hot.

There's not even anything risqué about his picture. None of the pictures go beyond "this dude is chiseled and shirtless", because veering even slightly past the softest softcore territory would scare off the little housewives or something.

(Eddie is actually pretty fucking sure it'd increase the sales, but hey, what does he know.)

The point is, there's nothing that obscene about the pic. Just a guy kneeling in the back of an ambulance, first aid equipment scattered between his powerful thighs, shirt open to reveal his sculpted torso…

Dark hair spanning across his pecs, over his abs, vanishing down his tight tight tight pants. Hips canting upward, bringing attention to the size of his bulge beneath the zipper. Broad shoulders, ripped arms and large hands, veins protruding across the back. A pretty yet masculine face, with a strong jaw and a straight nose, full lips, a smattering of moles going down his biteable neck. Voluminous, golden brown hair swooped away from his twinkling eyes.

He's got this look in them, this slant to his mouth. Like he knows he's the hottest guy in the calendar.

The one month everyone will go crazy for.

Eddie has become intimately familiar with that look. No joke, in two years it's made him crack his marbles more than anyone else has done in his quarter-century lifetime. When all else fails, November-paramedic has his back. It's basically his longest relationship to date, which sounds a lot sadder out loud (and it sounded fucking sad inside his head, too).

You might wonder why any of that is relevant now, as he sits on the curb outside of The Behemoth with blood trickling from his temple, his band giving their statements to one cop while another hauls away the snarling douchebag that clipped him. How does it play a part in this god-awful night out, you ask?

Well.

"Sir?"

Eddie startles, too caught up in the thudding inside his head, made worse by the buzzing crowd, to notice the man approaching him. He looks up, his gaze gliding past uniformed legs, muscular forearms, a curved neck and honeyed eyes appraising Eddie, and oh.

Oh God.

Eddie's breath sticks in his chest and his tongue becomes a cognate to sandpaper, because it's the paramedic.

It's the paramedic. From the calendar.

He's hallucinating. He has to be. He collapsed on the sidewalk, and now he's having one last weird sex dream before his brain finishes seeping out and he fucking dies.

November-paramedic crouches in front of him. Eddie continues to gape like he's getting ready to catch the peanuts no one is tossing at him.

"My name is Steve. I'm with the ambulance," November-paramedic says. "What's your name?"

Eddie makes a noise incomprehensible to most Earth cultures before his brain registers the meaning of the question and stutters out the answer.

"I- Uh- E-Eddie. It's, it's Eddie."

November-paramedic – Steve – smiles kindly. Heat prickles across Eddie's cheeks and neck. It's not the same as the cocky, sexy smile he's got in the calendar, but still. He's smiling. At Eddie!

"Hi, Eddie." He nods toward Eddie's temple. "That's an impressive cut you got there. May I take a look at it?"

"Yeah? Yeah. Um, g-go ahead."

As Steve sets down his bag and rummages through it, Eddie scours his face to confirm that it really is the guy from the calendar. To his chagrin, it is. There's no mistaking it. Those eyes, like liquid gold. That jawline, a weapon in its own right. Those moles, applied so skillfully it must've been by an artist's hand. That hair, coming straight out of a commercial for luxury shampoo. It's lying flatter than in the calendar, either lacking product or having sweated it out, but it's still glorious.

Steve, having finished washing his hands, tugs on a pair of disposable gloves. The plastic snaps against his wrist, sending a shiver through Eddie. It centers between his legs. Shit, if he pops a boner now…

"I'm going to ask you some questions, okay?" Steve says while pressing a square piece of gauze against the cut. "Do you know what day it is?"

"Eh, Thursday?"

"Do you know where you are?"

"The Behemoth."

Steve nods and, with a lopsided smile, asks, "And are you a patron or did you and your head injury just wander onto the scene?"

Eddie laughs. Loud, merry, and verging on too long. It wasn't even that funny. Steve seems pleased his joke was a success, though. Unless his smile is the uncomfortable kind that one wears when faced with the unhinged. Eddie isn't sure how much blood he's lost.

"No, I, like, my band…" he says, stammering like talking isn't what he does best. Jesus Christ, it's just a hot guy! Eddie has made a fool of himself in front of those plenty of times – no need to get flustered about it. He clears his throat. "We had a gig and, after, at the bar, some guys got into a fight. Got ugly, so we tried to leave, but… alas!" He makes a dramatic sweep of his arm, nearly clocking Steve. Steve expertly ducks away without lessening the pressure on the wound. Eddie soldiers on, not daring to pause lest he lose his steam. Hopefully his burning face is enough of an apology. "Fucker wasn't even aiming for me. He missed his intended target and struck me instead."

"Right. Did you lose consciousness after he hit you?"

"Nope."

"Good. Did you drink tonight?"

"Half a beer, at most."

"Do-"

"Eddie!"

Gareth's nasally voice cuts off Steve's question. The next second, he's materialized beside them with a slightly alarmed expression. "Dude, are you…!"

He trails off, eyes growing into dinner plates. There isn't that much blood, is there?

Steve looks Gareth up and down, a crease between his brows. "Is this your friend?"

"My drummer. Gareth."

Eddie half-expects Steve to demand Gareth leaves so he can do his job in peace, but nope. That kind, calm smile is back. He even gives him one of those little upward-nods 'cool guys' like to do.

"What's up, Gareth? I'm Steve; I'm with the ambulance. Just making sure Eddie won't keel over later tonight."

"Uh huh…" Gareth kneels opposite Steve. He's smiling too, but his is shit eating. Eddie frowns in confusion, because what does Gareth have to be happy about? He was freaking out right after Eddie got hit, but now he's staring at Steve like-

Oh.

He's staring at Steve.

No. Noooooooooo! Oh shit! Oh fuck! Oh why, why has he kept his porn stash in a drawer without a lock all these years?! He can't recollect the reason Gareth opened that particular drawer on that particular day – all Eddie remembers is how Gareth, Jeff, and Marv snickered when he explained the inclusion of the calendar.

That was it, though. They moved on. Sure, there has been the occasional roasting after the fact, but it's not like he hasn't also mocked them for their weird shit. But that's not the point. The point is that Gareth is staring at Steve like he recognizes him.

Gareth's attention flicks toward Eddie. Eddie shakes his head as subtly yet pleadingly as he can. Gareth's grin gobbles down another turd. Eddie makes a valiant effort to explode Gareth's eyeballs with his mind.

"Say…" Gareth turns to Steve. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so. Eddie, do you have a headache?"

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, voice trembling. "Hurts like hell."

"I could've sworn I've seen your face before," Gareth says. "Like, I'm 100% sure."

"Are you dizzy or nauseous?" Steve asks, ignoring Gareth.

"Um, a little dizzy but no nausea?"

"Hmm, okay. Blurred vision or uneven numbness?"

"No."

Steve nods, glancing at his watch. Then, to Eddie’s dismay, he looks at Gareth. "I've never been to this bar before."

"Nono, not here. Somewhere else…"

Steve's lips purse and his brows knit into the most adorable thinking-face Eddie has ever seen. His heart skips a beat, then skips two more as Steve's free hand gently cups Eddie's cheek. The skin catches fire where Steve's gloved fingertips touch it.

"Let me have a look at your pupils…" Steve says, guiding Eddie's face and, holy shit, leaning in close for a better look.

Eddie gulps, half his blood rushing up and the other half down; he squeezes his legs together to prevent the little guy from saying 'hello' to everyone present. His eyes rove over Steve's face. His lips are chapped and the skin on his nose is dry. The nose itself is somewhat crooked. Did he get into a fight between the calendar photoshoot and now, or did they make the nose straighter for the photo? Why would anyone think it necessary to edit a face like this one? Even with its imperfections mere inches away, it's still the handsomest Eddie has seen.

Steve hums. It's a perfectly preserved vinyl. It's a metal festival. It's Eddie's new favorite song.

"Same size but pretty dilated… Keep your eyes open, please." He shines a tiny flashlight into Eddie's eyes before nodding, satisfied. "All right, looks good."

He leans back out of Eddie's space, returning Eddie's ability to breathe, and removes the gauze. His smile tells Eddie that the bleeding has stopped. As great as it is that he won't hemorrhage to death, it also means their encounter is approaching its end.

"You might've seen me at the university campus?" Steve says, fiddling with some plasters; it takes Eddie's horny brain five full seconds to deduce he's talking to Gareth again.

"No-" Gareth freezes, mouth hanging open. His smugness has evaporated. "Actually, I might have? You're a student?"

Steve chuckles as he patches the last of Eddie's cut. "No, but my friends are. None of them own a car, so I end up driving them everywhere. Right, Eddie, I think you're good to recover at home. Unless you feel like you should head to the hospital?"

Great question! Does he? On the one hand: riding in the ambulance with Steve, ensuring a few additional minutes of his lustrous eyes and smooth voice.

On the other hand: hospital bills.

"… no."

"Okay. Do you have anyone who can keep an eye on you?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I live alone."

"Then maybe Gareth could hang around for the next 48 hours?"

"Sure can," Gareth says without hesitating. Eddie's heart swells with affection for him, despite his (failed! Hah!) plot to mortify Eddie to death.

Steve is already packing his medical bag.

"I want you to rest and avoid stressful situations," he tells Eddie. "No alcohol, no recreational drugs, no driving, and no working until you feel completely recovered. You may take tylenol, but not aspirin or ibuprofen. And if your symptoms worsen or you develop new ones – seek medical attention. Got it?"

The last part is sterner, reminding Eddie of every male authority figure he's strived to disobey during his teenage years. He has no such desire this time.

"Got it."

Steve raises his eyebrows as if to say 'have you really?', and Eddie has to wonder if it's he who seems contrariant and/or stupid enough to ignore the medic or if this is something Steve does with every patient. If it's the former, he mustn't seem that contrariant, because Steve's features soften into trust. He stands, brushing dust off his knees.

"Great. You boys take care now. Have a nice night."

"Yeah, you too, man," Eddie calls after him weakly as he retreats to the blinking ambulance. "Thanks…"

He keeps his gaze on the broad expanse of Steve's back, soaking in the rippling of his muscles as he walks and, oh would you look at that, his ass is as nice as the rest of him. Eddie's been wondering for two years now…

"Dude!"

Eddie jerks toward Gareth. Did he say that out loud? Did he drool? Is his boner showing? But no, Gareth isn't disgusted or disturbed – he's excited.

Shit.

He'll never hear the end of this.

"Don't!" he hisses.

Gareth just laughs, eyes twinkling.

"That was-"

"Don't!"

"I can't believe it!"

"Gareth-"

"You are so red right now!"

"For Jesus fucking Christ's fucking sake-"

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Dedicated to @rougenancy for always listening to and encouraging my various thoughts, opinions, and ideas (they are constant).

Part 2

AO3

#me combining paramedic!steve with model!steve? it's more likely than you think #no need to tell me i'm a genius – i already know it #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #it's not important but i named the third guy 'marvin'#because i think he looks like one #this is part one out of [undecided]#i'll be winging it in the middle so that'll be fun #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

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brainwormcity · 4 months

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We gotta talk about Rome, y'all.

So, the flashback in Rome is pretty much exclusively the only time Crowley is actively short with Aziraphale and it has always sort of itched my brain as to why. When I finally got my hands on the script book it started to make sense:

For the uninitiated, Caligula was a Roman Emperor so despicable that there's literally a wiki dedicated to his atrocities.

Some of the deplorable things he was said to have done include, but aren't limited to:

Ordering criminals to be fed to the wild animals used for Gladitorial entertainment, after having cut their tongues out

Decapitating and butchering several people

Beating a priest to death with a mallet

Crucifying, burning, and suffocating multiple people

Literally having a Senator he disliked ripped apart by a mob

With this in mind, we know that Crowley, despite his indifferent attitude toward his demonic assignments, actively works against hurting people and animals, and even though his dialogue implies that he never tempted Caligula, we don't actually know what he might have witnessed. Still, it's not at all out of the realm of possibility that he saw things that could have straight up left him scarred psychologically.

Though the filmed scene leaves this portion of the conversation out, including his failed rebuff of Aziraphale's company, it's clear that he's in some emotional distress. With this in mind, Aziraphale's appearance may have occurred at just the right time. If he saw even just a hint of the monstrosity and madness of Caligula, he'd have needed some sort of comfort, so Aziraphale's stupid question and temptation for oysters may have been the best thing that could have happened under the circumstance.

Plus, given Aziraphale's ignorance about Caligula (he was there for Nero,) he'd have no idea how badly Crowley was messed up. He never reacted to Crowley's irritation or boorish attitude with anything other than continued enthusiasm for his presence. Demonhood has likely been incredibly tragic and traumatizing for Crowley at times, and, in this scene, Aziraphale was a balm for that pain without ever knowing.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley good omens #good omens rome #good omens 41 #crowley trauma #caligula #roman history #crowley rome #good omens meta #abel talks meta #good omens theory

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theminecraftbee · 1 year

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okay so like. thinking about. so the grian “do the back of your base” but was obviously planned (if nothing else you can see in impulse’s episode that grian made a group before the bit started). everything that happened AFTERWARDS was less so, rip desert duo I barely knew ye, but the bit of “they’ll force you to finish your base or else” was planned! as such, the whole “impulse will blow up your base if you don’t do it” bit may or may not be fully planned. also, grian’s stated multiple times he’s unsatisfied/tired of his base at the moment and having trouble getting going with it.

and therefore. impulse might actually blow up grian’s base.

you see, there’s PRECEDENT for impulse blowing up someone’s base because they’re unhappy with it! it even started a whole story arc! back in season seven, impulse was one of the boomers. they blew things up when they were hired to and also blew up bdubs. ren hired them to do some explosives work on his base on loser island, but he messed up impulse’s timings, and the whole base blew up - along with his beloved mooshroom, pamela. heartbroken, he moved back to the mainland, where, on the promise the renperor made that he could revive the dead, started the star wars base. within ren’s actual episodes, this seems like a horrible, tragic accident, a death that launched a new storyline and a destruction that, uh… okay so it’s very in-character for the boomers, frankly, they were… very good at blowing things up. yes.

what you might NOT know is that, ooc, that was planned! ren was getting lonely being based so far from the other hermits, but needed an excuse to stop working on his old project. he hired the boomers specifically to blow up his old base so he’d move away! and it worked - although I don’t know if pamela was planned or not in the crossfire.

so what I’m saying is… there’s a chance, if impulse and gem’s threat of tnt retribution when grian fails to finish the back of his base goes through, that grian had sort of intended for that to happen, so he’d have an excuse to start over with a new vision. it has precedent, after all!

#hermitcraft #it could ALSO be a legit threat impulse doesn’t expect to actually go through with lol #either or.

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drakaripykiros130ac · 27 days

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“Poor Helaena…to lose a child like that”

“Poor Aegon…a father’s rage is justified”

Not hearing a whole lot of poor Rhaenyra who lost her father, her son, her throne and her unborn daughter in a short span of time.

According to TG stans, a child’s death is absolutely horrible (unless it’s Rhaenyra’s. If it’s Rhaenyra’s child, it’s fun, let’s celebrate).

I fail to see why Helaena’s grief is more important than Rhaenyra’s. She lost one son, said “bye bye world” and shut down (and I don’t see anyone pointing fingers at her and calling her useless in this war even though she was. She had a dragon she could use, but chose to remain locked up in her room and in depression).

Rhaenyra lost a whole lot more, and she had to stay on her feet and fight to take back what rightfully belongs to her.

Why is Jaehaerys’ death more tragic than Lucerys’?

Lucerys was murdered in cold blood, just like that boy of Helaena’s who’s barely relevant throughout the whole story.

Lucerys was a boy too.

Now there’s the question of who shed first blood.

The Greens did.

Actions call for reactions, and this is war.

Daemon wanted Aegon the Usurper to lose a son, just like the Greens forced Rhaenyra to suffer the loss of one of her own. He called for retribution. A life for a life. He could have arranged to have everyone in that tower killed that night. He could have demanded Aegon’s daughter, Jaehaera, be killed in exchange for the life of the daughter the Greens made him lose (Visenya). But he didn’t.

I’ve seen comments cheering on Aegon for wanting vengeance for his dead son, but apparently Rhaenyra is not allowed to demand retribution for the death of hers.

Misogyny runs high in the 21st century, doesn’t it? A woman who is not perfect is a monster, and a man with vices is just “misunderstood”.

And then you all have the nerve to point fingers at people who don’t care about the consequences of B&C. No, I don’t care that Aegon’s child is going to be murdered. Because I didn’t see that sympathy from stans when Lucerys was murdered. All I saw were jokes made at a child ripped apart by the biggest and most dangerous dragon alive because her rider is a twisted one-eyed psychopath.

The Blacks are entitled to vengeance.

Lucerys’ death is on Aemond’s head. And so is Jaehaerys’. He’s 100% responsible. If anyone is to blame for B&C, it’s Aemond the Kinslayer.

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comicaurora · 9 months

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top three changes to the star wars franchise?

Like, top three things I would change if I was in charge of the franchise top to bottom?

This is Big Cheating calling it "one change", but scrap the prequels. The original trilogy already implied an incredibly simple by-the-numbers dark fantasy origin story for Obi-Wan and Anakin and if we strip away the space veneer we can easily see that Anakin's original backstory was implied to be "prodigy warrior-wizard is tempted by dark magic (and an established evil sorcerer-emperor who has clearly been in power for more than a scant 18 years by the time of the original trilogy) which slowly corrupts and twists him into a monster who eventually has a fight with obi-wan that he loses, also he has a relationship with a woman who survives to raise Leia for at least a few years". Those are the only points you need to hit, and you could tell a very compelling simple-meal-well-made sword and sorcery adventure with a guaranteed tragic ending. The original prequels fail at holding to the ONLY points of canon they needed to hit - the innately corruptive power of the dark side SLOWLY leading to Anakin's downfall, the empire being an existing threat for a long time and the jedi correspondingly being an ANCIENT religion rather than being less ancient than 9/11, and Padme being alive enough for Leia to remember her a little bit. Close your eyes, clear your mind, let the tropes flow through you - a By-The-Numbers Story will come to you and you will see the completely inoffensive prequel tragedy we could've had. Also, never show Yoda, preserve the fun twist in the original movies.

Easy change for this one. Finn's a force-user with a plot about inspiring a stormtrooper rebellion, another plot that literally writes itself, also let the sequel trio actually all hang out for more than five fuckin minutes because the only thing that ever made Star Wars work was the raw charisma of the actors having a good time and the chemistry was really solid for the only time in the final movie they were allowed to share screentime.

And while we're gutting the sequels, how about letting the hero's victories actually fucking matter. Luke gets to actually reinvigorate the jedi way and doesn't have all his victories ripped away in the name of sequel bait, and can serve as an extremely powerful but very busy Jedi Ex Machina who turns up in the darkest hour to save the day, Mandalorian-s1-finale style. The Empire doesn't just get magically replaced with Empire 2, Now With Less Charisma, let the threat be something actually new or a natural consequence of a newly liberated galaxy in sudden turmoil - feudal tyrants ruling over planetary fiefdoms squabbling to fill the Emperor's power-vacuum, more sith lords coming out of the woodwork now that their greatest rival is gone. Leia and the other rebel leaders struggling to reinstate some semblance of democracy in a scarred and shattered galaxy too accustomed to the crushing totalitarianism of the empire. How goddamn unoriginal to start a sequel by undoing every happy ending from the original series for retreaded drama, as if the universe could only ever hold three problems in it.

#asks #not aurora

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pangolin-404 · 1 year

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V2 is such a tragic character and I don't see enough people talking about it

It was built for peace (and to recuperate the cost poured into V1). It was built to be kind. It was built in the aftermath of great despair and is the representation of New Peace.

And then humanity dies. Maybe there was another war, maybe the New Peace wasn't as peaceful as it seemed (V2 was potentially used as security), but in the end it doesn't matter because humanity got wiped out and V2 was left alone.

Imagine having your purpose ripped from you, left stranded and alone (divine light ripped away, even). V2 was forced to go against its very nature of peacekeeping, forced to descend into hell along its far more bloodthirsty brethren. It ran on blood just like them, but it had to kill for it, to slaughter the already-dead and its fellow machines alike to stay alive. Without humans to maintain peace with, it is living for itself, which is a fantastic motive to live, but I cannot fathom what entropy splits its mind when initially facing this fact. Humanity is dead and it must kill its dwindling remains to continue existing.

The perseverance V2 displays is astounding. It's smart enough to know when it's losing and to run. It fixes itself with all the creativity of a swordsmachine rebuilding itself, taking scrap to make something new. Built for kindness and a new era, how much was creativity and self-determination drilled into it, encouraged?

It displays so much personality in its quirks and mind, displaying respect wits its bow before combat and intimidation with it cracking its knuckles. It is trying to live, because that's all it has, in this new world so foreign to what it once knew.

surely it's scared. yes it may believe itself a truly incredible machine, the superior magnum opus. maybe it is egotistical in how it views itself, proud of itself, but what else does it have to cling to when everything else about its life has been ravaged beyond recognition? does it view the world around it and feel alone? Such an incredible self-preservation, enough to maim what once tore it apart in an attempt to steal back what was once rightfully its.

did it reside in limbo because it was the most familiar, even if it is fake? how deeply must it miss humanity. never used, scrapped just like its predecessor (its lesser). never got to truly experience that desired peace, now forever out of reach. all it can do is persevere and continue existing clinging to what little of itself it has left, and that is what it does, what it tries to do, and what it fails to do.

#thoughts #ultrakill #v2 #ultrakill posting #got thinking bc I see lots of people portraying v2 as prickly and egotistical and I think it is very caring+creative+SCARED inside #like I think it would take 1 heartfelt peace offering + hug to make that thang break down #I think it misses humanity. I think it misses it a lot

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panphilosopher · 2 months

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Fic Idea: Chaggie/Chaggily child AU except it's Vaggie's child when she was a human. (TW: sex violence)

The idea if Vaggie's human origin still happens.

During her time as a sex worker, Vaggie could accidently be impregnated. The idea she didn't realize she was pregnant until at least the beginning of her early second trimester.

Since abortion is illegal in El Salvador and cultural upbringing, Vaggie could be reluctant to have abortion until decided to carry it.

I cannot think of a name, but I'm calling Vaggie's child Mirabel (lol).

Being disowned by her own family fuck Vaggie up psychologically, and decided to raise her (likely have a girlfriend who helped her).

Vaggie absolutely loves her daughter; she dotted her, she was her moon and sun. Gave her endearing names.

Tragically struck; when Mirabel is between 3-5, Vaggie was killed (either to sex violence, struck by vehicle, gang related death, etc).

Vaggie ascended to Heaven (likely having a traumatic life and still caring for her daughter), but Vaggie was devastated because that meant she separated from Mirabel.

Worse, and this part of my headcanon, time is irrelevant in the afterlife. I get the idea from The Good Place; look up Jeremy Bearimy. That's meant Vaggie will not see Mirabel for hundreds of years.

Every year in the afterlife time, Vaggie will have a somber celebration for Mirabel. I would like to say around September to October. Is Vaggie way for her to grieved for not raising her daughter.

Vaggie was also recruited into the Exorcists early, ascended into an angel.

The fic would follow the canon route: Vaggie did the extermination, spears a sinner, and Lute cut her eye and ripped her wings, Charlie would find her, and both fell in love, opened thr Hotel, battle the Exorcists and won. Also, down the line, Emily would fall too and enter a poly-relation with Vaggie and Charlie because I ship Unholy Trinity.

Like three months after the battle, Vaggie and Charlie hold a somber birthday for Mirabel (Vaggie told Charlie when they started dating).

All the hotel residents wondered who birthday is it, and Vaggie tells them its for her daughter.

Cue everybody is going "WHAT" "YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER" and Emily screamed, "Why didn't you tell me?!".

Even Charlie gasped before saying, "Why am I gasping? I already knew that."

I see Vaggie as a very closed person, won't tell people her past unless she trust them, and seeing she openly celebrating her daughter's birthday means she does now. Also, she likely didn't realized she hasn't tell Emily yet.

Now, here comes the angst: a few days after Vaggie's fell (or forced fall), Mirabel ascended to Heaven.

I don't think Vaggie and her former partner will have a healthy relationship. Not fault for either of them: poverty, homophobic society, and that Vaggie being a sex worker. Vaggie decided to keep Mirabel just add another fight between them.

After Vaggie died, her former partner gave Mirabel up to an orphanage. I do see her feeling guilty and likely giving donations to the orphanage, but that's it.

I will see Mirabel being a selfless girl: the big sister of the orphanage, gave her dinner portion to the children who's nearly starving, is known around the town for helping people, things like that.

She vaguely remembered Vaggie, only remembered that her mother loved her, the pet name, and I believed a nursery song that Vaggie sang to her.

Mirabel likely died around 15-17, and I say either to traffic accident or a bullet stray from a gang shoot-out.

After arriving in Heaven, Mirabel will look everywhere and try to find Vaggie. However, she doesn't know her name and not realize she isn't in Heaven.

A month after the failed extermination, Lute discovered Mirabel, and being the sadistic bastard she is, recruited Mirabel into being an Exorcist, making her an angel too.

She gives half lies about Vaggie: being an Exorcist but was killed during the failed extermination by Charlie's paramor. Since Vaggie never actually introduced herself during the Redemption Hearing, and that Mirabel vaguely remembered how Vaggie looked like (especially her afterlife/her fallen angel form if take fanon route).

Cue Mirabel trained and searched for her mom's killer, not realizing her mom is alive and said killer is her mom.

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tequiilasunriise · 10 months

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The sheer soulmatism of Lenore and Annabel fucks me up so bad everytime I think too hard about it okay sit down y’all.

The way they were immediately drawn to each other even though they had no memory of anything! No reason to immediately become so attached and protective and trusting! Not even death could part them, it’s almost like reincarnation in a way. The sins of living and the pain that comes with being alive washed away not by holy water but rather split blood, and in this new life they’re reborn into a blank, clean slate. Even in this memoryless ‘next lifetime’ they still choose each other without hesitation, without question, and I am on my knees sobbing.

The parallels of Annabel fainting! Annabel fainted when she learned that Lenore was actually alive, and Annabel also fainted when remembering how she died, and by extension, how Lenore died too (not related to soulmatism but in one scenario her lover caught her despite the injury, and in the other Lenore had no such hinderance but failed to catch Annabel regardless and that parallel kills me so softly). The soulmatism that is reacting the same exact way when you learned she lived vs remembering how she died, the soulmatism that the love is still the same. Oh how the love is still so tragically the same, crossing that threshold of death, despite the unhappy ending you shared. Annabel faints because it’s learning you have a second chance at love vs remembering how that same love was ripped away and I am no longer on my knees but laying facedown on the floor.

(The way Annabel looked at Lenore before collapsing in both scenes but with DRASTICALLY different vibes of disbelief like okay yeah sure, sure okay mhm just smash my ribs and rip my heart right out why don’t you?)

Now, NOW, the thing that truly ends me? The crazy red/blue symbolism these two carry.

Lenore is the embodiment of red. Her thoughts come in red print, as do the ribbons she was wrapped up in. Her fiery (pun intended), confident personality, her pure raging defiance rallying those around her. What’s more, Lenore’s anger and bared teeth is painted red the same way her love is, because red is not just the color of anger. Red is love, and Lenore, my god, she cares so openly about the people around her that her heart’s just painted bloody and brazen on her sleeve. Born from self-made infernos into the person she was always meant to be- flirty, quick-witted, taking what she wants when she wants- she is a young Montague wrapped up in her family’s house colors trailblazing down her own paths.

(But unlike dear Romeo who scaled a tree to look upwards towards Juliet on her balcony, Lenore was in a tree looking downwards at her counterpart, and this parallel is so important as the scene is clearly a Romeo/Juliet parallel but without the sweet sappiness but rather tension and just like, 1000x more interesting ‘can I trust you fr fr-ness’.)

Annabel is the embodiment of blue. Her thoughts come in blue print, and her ribbons are a deep blue to match. Blue is the color of calmness, and she seems so tranquil with a gentle yet firm confidence that puts people around her at ease. A natural born leader with such cool-headedness. Oh, but underneath that mask? Sadness. SO MUCH sadness, Annabel is an ocean of it, she’s a peaceful smile with a melancholic heart shot through. Young Capulet holds not pure innocence like her Juliet-counterpart but rather a deep rooted loneliness, like guys, Annabel is actually just so fucken SAD I think we really need to address this more yes she’s a total girlboss but also Annabel is the personification of hollowed out loneliness that comes with your beloved being ripped away from you.

This really got away from me, but my point?

Lenore, the embodiment of red, has blue eyes.

Annabel, the embodiment of blue, has red-adjacent eyes.

FORGET LAYING ON THE GROUND IN TEARS I AM CURRENTLY CLIPPING THROUGH THE FLOOR AND HEADING STRAIGHT GAY TO MY GRAVE IN THE BACKROOMS!!!

YOUR HONOR THEIR EYES ARE THE GODDAMNED COLORS OF THE OTHER’S MOTHERMARYFUCKING S O U L LIKE WHAT IN THE JESUS H CHRIST BUMBLEBY SOULMATISM IS T H I S S S⁉️⁉️⁉️

#hey sorry fer such a long post but can you tell these two make me severely mentally ill #the bumblebyism of it all… eyes reflecting the color of ur pther half’s soul #if i had had a nickel everytime i crossed this trope i would have three nickels now gods #bumbleby sulemio and white raven SIGHHHH #everyone thank my rwby roots if u haven’t realized the eye soulmatism until now (but i doubt it i mean. its so obvious like. my god.)#white raven… gnawing on a tree branch… please imma fast passer but i still need MOREEEE #skittering around in a circle like a wild beast i need need NEEDD more of these two my god #white raven #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee nevermore #lenore vandernacht #gods her last name trips me up to spell everytime #lenore nevermore #should i tag this as bumbleby #u know what? yeah yeah i will why not #sorry fellow beekeepers but yall needa see this bc bumbleby eyecolor soulmatism mention #bumbleby #buzz buzz motherfuckers

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hoenn-pride · 3 months

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As someone who has felt like they've failed or lost dreams and had to rebuild themselves, I think a lot about Grusha.

I think about how it's implied Grusha's injury was a big deal. That it was a public thing. There's an article in the school library about a big competition coming up, and Grusha - second-best snowboarder in the world - will be competing. Everyone was waiting to see how he'd perform.

I think about how they're very specific to note that Grusha is the second- best.

He likely felt like he was up and coming. He likely felt like the world was at his fingertips. Even if he wasn't the best- the best, he was good. Really good.

And if he kept going, one day, he would be the best.

Maybe it frustrated him to no end to be compared to someone else. Maybe it killed him to always be called second-best. Maybe he was determined to break himself out of that and make a name for himself all his own.

And then for it all to get cut off so suddenly, so abruptly, out of something that was so clearly out of his control.

So loudly, so tragically, so publicly,

in front of everyone who came there to watch him compete. Maybe for the title of no longer being second-best.

I think about how he likely never wanted to touch a board again. How it likely made him sick and angry at the snow. The mountain. How even the best well-wishes from his biggest fans likely made him sick. To relive the shame and humiliation all over again.

To feel like everything you ever worked for got ripped away from you so suddenly, due to things so beyond your control.

And how his gym is alone on Glaseado Mountain. How being a gym leader seems to be now the only thing he has. And he doesn't feel like he's any good at that, either. How ice is notoriously a pretty vulnerable type as it is.

And yet, he's still the Ice-Type gym leader. He keeps going back to the snow.

How when you invite him over as a special coach at the academy, he starts talking about the Polar Biome. How he checked out the mountain again.

And how he picked up a snowboard. And even if he was embarrassed to admit it, he started to ride again.

Not the same, no. It might never be the same. Sports injuries can alter your life, alter your entire body, forever. He likely can never compete again.

But I think about him, and I hope life gets new purpose for him. Even if, due to his injury, his life may never be quite the same. Never quite what it was.

I hope he can find a different happiness. Even over the ruined pieces of the dream he once loved.

#current mood #pokemon sv #grusha #pokemon grusha #i'm in a depressy emo mood ok let me think about my boy #maybe someday when im less swamped with other WIPs i'll write that grusha thing #maybe maybe maybe

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lucienarcheron · 3 months

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This Time, I'm Ready [ Elucien ]

Inspired by Long Story Short by TS. I was listening to it randomly and a scene of Elain started playing out in my head. Recommend listening to it while reading :)

Shout out to @ruhnnlidias for always being my beta reader ♥️

Rating: SFW Genre: Little angst/fluff

As she stood in the woods and took in her surroundings, Elain realized she had made a tragic mistake leaving the Spring Court alone.

Darkness was setting and she had no idea where she was or how she’d even be found.

All she knew was that she had needed out of the Night Court. She had needed to get away. Even at the risk of her own safety.

Because she was sick of it. Sick of doing nothing. Sick of being nothing.

Sick of the coddling. Coddling she had played a huge part in allowing.

Because comfort had always been more important than worrying. Comfort had been more important than facing everything that had been taken from her. But at what cost?

At what cost?

Elain whirled around at the sounds of twigs snapping behind her and that familiar sense of self-loathing she had developed in the last two years threatened to explode in her chest.

She was an idiot. An absolute imbecile for thinking she could do this on her own.

But it was too late to change courses now.

Elain’s bottom lip trembled as her eyes darted around her. The fae eyesight she’d resented for so long didn’t fail her now as she took in the details of the tall trees. Her vision — that stupid vision was what had spurred her to make this move. A vision that promised the sun and flowers blooming, coming from a manor she had once planned to call home before it was ripped away from her and her dreams became shrouded in darkness.

And Elain had been desperate for the sun for two years.

So she had fortified her mind, blocked it the way she knew how so they wouldn’t sense her lie, and had convinced Rhys that she needed to go to the Spring Court. She had nearly begged, demanding they respect her vision and though Feyre had been hesitant, her sister knew she couldn't stop her.

And Mor had winnowed her in, waiting patiently with her as she explored, as they avoided the beast that still roamed while she tried to piece things together. Her vision was important, they had to inspect what it meant…even if she hadn’t told them what her vision had been about.

Or rather, who.

But the person she had been looking for hadn’t been there as she had predicted. Mor had only given her a sympathetic look that had Elain clenching her jaw and said, “We’ll wait until morning to see if anything else can be found.”

Elain didn’t want to wait until morning and Mor hadn’t noticed the satchel she had hidden beneath her cloak. Though she wasn’t too surprised. No one really noticed anything about her. People only saw what they wanted to see when it came to her.

And maybe Elain should feel guilty about the panic she would likely cause Mor, even with the note she left behind, but she knew she needed to find him alone. Elain needed to make sure he was alright and for once, didn’t want an audience.

Because telling them what she saw meant they’d get involved. And for once, Elain needed them all to mind their business.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger she’d stolen from the ridiculous amount stashed in her sister’s home and Elain hated the feeling of it, hated having to hold it, and hated the idea of having to potentially use it.

Stabbing one person had been enough for her in this lifetime.

Turning her body, she tried to gauge where exactly she was. She had been careful to ask careless questions, to pretend to stare at the map of the location with as much boredom as she could muster all those times they'd bothered to include her in things. Which wasn’t often, but Elain had tried.

And now, she was trying to find… Lucien.

A shudder went through her body at the thought of his name. The mate she had been ignoring.

The sun she was seeking, that she had blatantly pretended wasn’t there. Because he could be hurt and the thought of not hearing his heartbeat made her sick.

She hadn’t been ready before.

This time, she was.

Ready to run certainly, at the sound of another twig snapping. If only there weren’t predators that were ecstatic at the opportunity to chase their prey — and Elain had forgotten just how many predators were out there. How easy prey she was at the moment.

Alone. Vulnerable. Breathing so loudly she was positive they could hear her back in Velaris.

Elain took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled it quietly. Licking her lips, she did the one thing she hadn’t expected herself to do. She called out to her mate.

Lucien?

She called out silently, licking her lips as she tested the waters of the mating bond she’d been shackled with. A mating bond that, try as she might, was never as dormant as she let the others believe. She heard his heartbeat all the time. Felt emotions flicker from him. Saw hazy memories.

Elain bit her lip, and slowly as she moved forward, the panic began tingling through her body. Why would he be listening? It wasn’t like she’d called out to him before. It wasn’t like she had ever been particularly kind to him.

Elain, who was kind to everyone. She was nice. Took out all her rage at the one person who didn’t really deserve it. But gods, being nice was exhausting when she hated everything about herself. He sensed how she felt. He saw too much. Just as she saw and felt too much of him.

In that stupid vision, she saw him coming for her. And he was whole and healthy. She had felt relieved at the sight of him.

She only left to find that relief.

But all she was finding was panic.

“Lucien?” she whispered and then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so stupid. How would he even hear her out here? Elain had no idea where she was or if she was on the right path.

All she had ever been useful for was being beautiful and nice. Maybe her mother had been right all along; she didn’t need to know how to use her brain when she had that face. Thinking she’d be good enough to try and venture out on her own had been so foolish of her.

No wonder no one included her in anything. She wasn’t smart. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t useful. Elain was just there, a mistake, a sad sight no one even saw or paid attention to.

Her hand flew to her mouth to hold in the sob threatening to escape. She had been so stupid to come out here.

Another branch cracked and she whirled again at the sound, scanning the area around her. She couldn’t have ventured too far from the Spring Court. She had to still be close, right?

But as she took a step, Elain felt a chill run down her spine that had her freezing in place.

She swallowed and then whispered into the trees, “Lucien?”

Elain was afraid to close her eyes to seek him out, to travel without moving as she had done once before. She bit her trembling lip and looked for that thread that he had tested out with her so long ago. She looked for that thread around her ribs and tugged.

He had to find her.

He had to be listening. Or at least she hoped.

Her face fell as the feeling of unease flooded her senses. Why would he be listening? He certainly wasn’t obligated to give her any of his time. Just like she hadn’t been obligated to give him anything.

Except for a conversation. Maybe they could’ve been friends. Maybe more. Maybe less.

Taking a shaky breath, Elain shook her head. She needed to focus. She needed to find him. Closing her eyes and letting her senses take over, letting that power she kept to herself surface as she looked for him. She traveled while standing, searching, rooting for him. She looked and tugged at that bond, she searched with a desperation she’d never, in all her years felt.

He needed to find her. He needed to be okay.

And she needed to get out of this quickly darkening forest.

There.

She saw him, seated at a desk alongside the Mad General she had only met once long ago, and felt herself tremble at the sight of him. She watched him suddenly straighten as if sensing her.

“Lucien.” she whispered and Elain wasn’t sure if she was saying it in her mind or out in the open air but he seemed to hear her.

For Lucien shot out of his seat and Elain watched his eyes widen, scanning the room. “Elain?”

“I’m in the forest outside of the Spring Court. I came looking for you but you weren’t there. I’m lost and I want you to find me.” she blurted quickly, fighting back a sob. “Please find me.”

“Elain —” was all she heard from him, his voice echoing the panic that was close to seizing her and before she could say anything else, she was ripped out of her connection.

Elain stumbled forward and whirled around quickly to find a creature of nightmares snarling a few feet away from her.

The creature stood alone, covered in dark scales with powerful arms that ended in claws she knew would slice anyone into ribbons.

Elain could only stand in horror, staring at the creature that gave her a bone-chilling smile.

She hadn’t seen this in her vision.

“Pretty, pretty pet.” it rasped, its claws clicking together as it stalked towards her. “You smell so divine. I’m going to eat you right up.”

“N-no, thank you,” she whispered and the creature blinked at her and then chuckled in a way that made the hair on her arms raise.

“Ah, well. That’s not what I want to hear.”

And the air between them stilled. The predator and prey as Elain stared down the creature. She had come seeking her mate and instead, found herself alone and vulnerable, about to be eaten alive.

Is this what she would amount to? She had stabbed the King of Hybern once long ago. She could not die here, without facing her demons. She had seen what her life could look like and Elain had finally decided to do something about it. Her grip tightened on her blade and she swallowed hard as the creature tilted its head mockingly at her.

Elain let herself take a deep calming breath then without warning, broke out into a run. Birds fluttered from the trees above her as she ran back, not away to – from – from the Spring Court? She wasn’t sure and the panic she had been trying to suppress bubbled back up to the surface as the sound of the creature stalking her followed.

“Find me. Find me. Find me.” she chanted desperately, a sob slipping from her lips as she rounded a corner, following a light that had to be the earlier path she had followed. The light had to lead back to safety.

But as she ran, her cloak caught on a branch and with a yelp, she fell. Quickly rolling over, she swallowed a scream as the creature hovered over her, closer than she had expected and nearly gagged at its foul breath. Grabbing her by the ankle, it dragged Elain closer and she could only stare in horror, frozen in place.

“I’m going to pick you apart piece by pretty piece.” it hissed.

With a desperate scream, she finally kicked it with her free leg and scrambled away but it grabbed her again and Elain fell once more, the dagger slipping from her hand.

“Let - go - of - me!” she shriek-sobbed, her hand desperately seeking the hilt of that dagger.

“Pretty pet has some claws.” The creature rasped once more as it yanked Elain forward, leaning over her and Elain tried not to gag again at its foul breath, her hand still seeking the dagger. “Lost little lamb with no one here to save her. Left to be gobbled up.”

Her hand faltered for a breath.

No one here to save her.

Would she always be this way? Always waiting to be saved? Always the victim? Never knowing how to defend herself?

She had no desire to be a warrior but Elain was sick of being the prey.

Anger she hadn’t felt in a long while flared in her chest as her fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and with a cry, she forced himself forward and shoved the dagger into the creature’s throat and held. She let out a scream of rage, fighting the urge to vomit when it’s black blood sprayed across her face. But Elain held and held tight, even as her hands shook until the gurgling sounds stopped and the creature slumped over her.

Elain let herself lay there, breathing heavily as her body started to shake. She was okay. She was fine. She had been attacked by a horrible creature and had survived. She was alive.

She would be —

The sound of running had the breath choked out of her. She couldn’t do this again — she couldn’t take another one.

But Elain couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t budge and as tears started to spill, she bit back another sob, trying with all her might to move the dead weight off her. Never mind, its blood was on her hands and dress and face – never mind that she was likely to be crushed beneath its weight if she didn’t move.

Panic seized her fully as she tried to scramble up, the footsteps coming closer. She could pretend to be dead. She could —

A violent snarl echoed through the forest as the dead creature was ripped off her and Elain nearly shrieked once more until she saw who stood above her.

“Elain.”

Elain’s eyes widened as Lucien fell to his knees next to her, breathing as hard as she was. He started at her and the sheer amount of relief that washed over her made her lips start to tremble.

“Lucien.”

She watched as a slight shudder went through him at the sound of his name from her lips and her body trembled as she stared and stared and stared. He had come.

“Elain. Thank fuck, you’re – you’re alright,” he asked and his hands hovered over her for a moment, as if forgetting that they hadn’t touched casually before – as if remembering then, it would be the first time in over two years. She watched as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling before slowly, Lucien held out a hand to help her sit up and Elain dropped her gaze to his open palm. “Are you hurt? Can you sit up?”

She blinked, hoping the tremors coursing through her body would stop as she stared back up at him.

“You — you came.” was all she could think to say, staring at him as she slid her shaky hands in his and slowly sat up, her eyes never leaving him, devouring the sight of him.

“Of course, I came,” he said quietly. “You – you called.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at the words but she blinked them back and swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say. He had come. He had listened.

“You found me,” she whispered, squeezing his hands and Lucien’s gaze softened.

He swallowed before carefully answering, “As long as you want me to find you...the bond will remain a thread between us.” he said quietly and squeezed her hands in return. “I’ll always find you.”

Her raging heart seemed to beat faster and Elain finally took a moment to run her gaze over his body. He was still in the tunic and trousers she had seen him in except now a sword was strapped to his back – a sword he hadn’t even bothered to use when he pulled the creature off her.

Her mate had used his bare hands to save her. And he was safe and whole, not a scratch to be found on him.

Elain met his gaze, finding him patiently watching her, his brows furrowed in concern, and suddenly remembered how she was covered in filth and flushed deeply, pulling her hands back to her lap.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced down at his now empty palms and let them fall to his sides. “You want to tell me how you got here?”

“I – I had a vision.”

“Ah.”

“It was about you,” she whispered and his expression turned curious. “Something bad happened to you.”

Lucien seemed to be fighting to keep his expression carefully clear. “And that…worried you?”

Elain’s flush deepened and she swallowed before whispering, “Yes.”

The air between them seemed to go taut but Elain refused to break his gaze as a slight color bloomed on Lucien’s face.

This energy between them wasn’t like what Feyre and Rhys had. Or even what Nesta and Cassian had. This…this felt different.

The bond between them seemed to hold its breath until Lucien cleared his throat and finally said, so softly, in the way he always seemed to speak to her, “I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble.”

Elain blinked and couldn’t help the huff of a small laugh that slipped from her lips, fisting her hands in her lap. “If anything, I’m the one to apologize for causing you trouble,” she said and bit her lip. “I dragged you all the way out here.”

Lucien chuckled and Elain felt it skate across her filthy skin. “You did give me quite the heart attack,” he said and the corner of his mouth curled up at her flush. “I thought I was hallucinating for a minute.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and couldn’t look away from him, trying to blink back the embarrassed tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to – I just – “

Lucien shook his head then gently and so carefully, reached for her hand. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said and offered her a small smile. “I’m thankful you did. I’m glad you did.”

And Elain felt her heart swell. This man – male who owed her nothing was glad she had called on him in her time of trouble.

“Even after all this time? We’ve barely spoken.”

“I know.” he only said and Elain felt her bottom lip tremble as she squeezed his hand in hers.

“Why?”

And Lucien couldn’t seem to help the tilt of his head as he gave her a look that was too knowing. “Because you never fully closed that door between us,” he said and Elain swallowed. “I know you’re well aware of how a mating bond works. You could reject it – reject me and no one would bat an eyelash.” He glanced at their hands and turned her palm over, his thumb daring to rub soothingly. “With the nature of the mating bond, a rejection would’ve been hard for me but I would’ve made peace with whatever decision was made.” Lucien met her gaze again. “I am not a male who forces himself to be where he is not wanted, especially with females. But…you kept the door open.”

“I’m not – I wasn’t —” Elain began then forced herself to swallow hard again. “I wasn’t ready.”

“I know,” he said again and gave her a small, slightly sad smile and Elain couldn’t stop herself from tightening the grip of her hand in his again.

She met his gaze and knew he could feel every jumbled emotion she felt, every complicated thought that flickered across her face. But he waited. Patiently. Kindly. And it was like he sensed exactly how hard it was for her to say more, to express her desires.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “I will say…it has been very bold of you to assume I would be obsessed with you,” he added and Elain flushed. “If anything, this situation goes to show you’re the one who can’t stop thinking about me. Getting all worried and running around in the woods alone.” He ended the statement with a tsk and Elain blinked.

Before she could stop herself, a snort slipped from her at his statement and the snort turned into a raspy laugh and before Elain could stop herself, she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

She was sitting on the ground of an unknown forest, still covered in the blood of a creature she had killed and Elain couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard.

And he sat with her as she laughed, watching her with amusement until the last giggle left her mouth, and Lucien couldn’t help but answer with a chuckle of his own.

She had found the sun. And it was smiling right back at her.

When she finally let out a sigh, marking the end of her slight loss of sanity a moment ago, Elain felt a sense of calm wash over her as he watched her and it took a few heartbeats of silence before Lucien broke the quiet.

“I take it you’re ready to move now?” he asked and Elain nodded as he looked around the woods. “How did you even manage to get here?”

He stood slowly and as Lucien pulled her up, Elain didn’t let go, staring up at him as she stood flush against his chest. She’d worry about how dirty she was later. “I sneaked away.”

Lucien’s brows lifted and the color on Elain’s cheeks deepened at his smirk. “Sneaked away, did you?”

“Oh yes,” she confirmed and Elain wondered if she’d ever realized how delicious he smelled. “Mor winnowed me in and I - um, waited until she was distracted and sneaked away.” Elain licked her lips. “But then I um, got lost.”

“Poor Elain, getting lost in the woods all alone,” he said in a tone with a teasing edge to it and Elain found her heart beating faster, forcing herself not to think about the tenor of his voice when he said her name, flushing lightly again.

But then color flushed on his cheeks and the silence between them seemed to soften; Elain couldn’t quite read the expression on his face but he seemed to struggle to say his next words.

“All this to find…me.” he said so very quietly and Elain seemed to hear the question without him asking it – that of all people, she had ventured out into the unknown for him? As if in disbelief that he would be worth the effort.

Then again, she hadn’t helped much in her avoidance of him.

“Y-yes.”

Once more, that thread at her ribcage went taut as they shared a glance and Elain wondered what it would be like if she just kissed him. Judging by the way his eyes watched her, she wouldn’t be too surprised if he could see it written all over her face, especially when he licked his lips.

“At least I’m not the only person you tried to give a heart attack to today,” he said with that teasing tone again and Elain’s lips twitched.

“Oh, Mor is definitely going to kill me.” she joked and her heart stuttered when his grip tightened on her slightly, watching him blink back a look of rage at the idea that someone might think to hurt her.

“Well, it’s a good thing I found you first then,” he said casually and cleared his throat. “Lest you get into any more trouble.”

“I think I’ve had enough trouble for one day,” Elain said and her eyes finally snagged on the creature, lying in a heap across the grounds. Her hands unintentionally tightened on Lucien as she eyed the dagger still stuck in the creature’s throat and once again, she couldn’t believe she had done it.

Lucien’s gaze followed hers and she felt his own hand tighten on her before he went back to scanning her face. “It seems a stab in the neck is to become your signature move.” he said lightly and Elain’s face heated.

“Twice is not enough to make it a signature move.”

“For someone who doesn’t fight often, twice is more than enough to become a signature move,” he said with a snort. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Considering you saved me today, I think you’re safe for now,” she said softly and Lucien seemed unable to help his chuckle.

“I hardly did any saving, my lady,” he said with a small smile, his tone as soft as hers. “You did that all on your own.”

And as Elain flushed deeply, she realized how long they’d been standing there, chest to chest just holding each other. The last time she had been held by him was that wretched day in Hybern and despite all the time and distance that had been between them, Elain seemed to feel nothing but ease to be held by him.

They stood for a few more heartbeats of silence, content to be just like this and Elain wondered if this was what the mating bond was always supposed to feel like. If she had been denying herself of this feeling she had always been craving.

She could hear the steady beat of his heart and while she was used to it being the lullaby that usually put her to sleep, Elain knew that wouldn’t be enough anymore.

“Let’s get you out of here and get cleaned up.” Lucien finally said gently and Elain nodded, knowing she should pull away but found herself hesitating to do so. He seemed to feel the same way as his hand casually tightened. “We wouldn’t want anyone to worry about you.”

At this moment, Elain didn’t really care who worried about her. Goodness knows how long had passed before they noticed she’d gone missing anyway.

But he noticed her. He seemed to always notice her.

So she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will you…stay with me?”

Lucien tried to mask the hope that flashed across his face by clearing his throat but Elain saw it – felt it and knew she asked the right question. “If that’s what you’d like me to do,” he said.

“It is,” she replied, her voice more sure than she’d ever been. “I would like that very much.”

His answering smile had warmth spread through her chest. “Then I am happy to oblige,” he said. “I am at your service, my lady.”

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #gfics #I didn't tag anyone who liked the post because I didn't want to assume haha #I hope you all like it :)#fic: this time I'm ready

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