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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month

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How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …

Dick: a solid 8.5/10.

A very clingy bean.

Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.

In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’

And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀

‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.

‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.

So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.

Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.

The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.

He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.

At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.

Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.

For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.

Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.

He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.

Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.

However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.

This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.

‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.

‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.

You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.

You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’

Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10

He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.

Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.

He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.

It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.

It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…

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versadies · 9 days

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FOR ME? (neuvillette x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. for me?

ADDRESSED. neuvillette (x gn!reader)

STAMP. in which he came back from his trip to qiaoying village and brought a few things for you!

CONTENT. ooc (?), fluff/no-angst, established relationship, possibly cheesy, possible grammar errors, takes place during hustle and bustle quest from the recent lantern rite update!

POST-SCRIPT. here’s my post dedicated to @staarri’s birthday and milestone event — congratulations on your milestone and happy belated birthday to you, zira! furthermore, this fic is inspired by a wriolette fanart made by @/visualkid_n that i saw on my feed !!

LINKS. masterlist / taglist

For a man such as NEUVILLETTE who is as busy as can be and rarely leaves Fontaine, you thought you were in a different universe when your lover first told you that he’ll be going on a trip to Liyue and visit Qiaoying Village. It’s not often to find your lover taking a break from his duties as the Iudex, let alone travel to another nation with his busy schedule, yet here he was.

He tried to invite you really, telling you that he’d like you to come with him and spend time together, but given your schedule, you could only turn him down despite wanting to accept.

And so you spent half a day with your lover away from the nation, often wondering how he is and if he’s not sulking too much about you not being able to come with him. Though, knowing how he is, you’re sure he’ll be alright – he can live in not seeing you for a day.

Take note, it was only half a day.

To your surprise, Neuvillette came back home much earlier than expected, standing by your doorstep with a few bags in hand, his eyes brightening at the sight of you.

“How was your trip?” You asked as you provided him some water for him to drink after he came inside your shared home.

“It was… quite enjoyable, but not as much as I longed for you to be there with me.” He responds softly, thanking you for the drink before taking a sip.

You gave him an apologetic smile, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “Sorry.. I’ll come with you next time when you decide to travel again.” You spoke, before glancing at the numerous items that are placed on the floor. “Though may I ask, what are all these items for?”

Neuvillette placed his cup down, glancing at the items as well before saying casually, “Ah, they’re for you, my dear.”

Come again?

You blinked a few times, staring at your lover as if he just told you the most absurd thing.

“Eh? All of them…?” You clarified.

It didn’t help that the Iudex looked unbothered, as if this is almost nothing for him. “Yes, of course. Why do you look so surprised?” He asks. “I was only thinking of you and how you were while I was away, and I happened to find a lot of things that reminded me of you.”

“Neuvi…” You said, staring down at the bag, still processing the fact that your lover bought so many things in one day just for you. “I do hope you’re aware that you didn’t have to do such things! This is quite shocking for me!” You commented.

He hummed. “I am aware, of course. But I happen to find myself making a few spontaneous decisions that’s inspired from my trip. Do forgive me, my dear, I did miss you after all.”

You could only sigh with a smile of defeat. “Well, it’s not as if I can reject such thoughtful gestures from you, but do go on and tell me more about your trip. How was Qiaoying Village? I read Charlotte's article about Liyue’s tea industry earlier.”

“The trip is quite refreshing. I took the opportunity to try their local spring water, and the aftertaste is much purer than what was delivered to me in Fontaine.” He said with a pleased look.

You find yourself listening intently to him as he goes on about the waters of Liyue, not being able to hide the amused look on your face from how fond he is about tasting water, and it only took a few minutes before he changed the subject to something else.

“Ah, that reminds me, I mentioned earlier that my trip happened to inspire a few spontaneous decisions, and one of them happened to be trying out ceramics.” He explains.

“My, the Iudex trying out ceramics?” You teased, causing his mouth to twitch upwards more.

“It’s quite an interesting activity. I’ve never once thought about how quotidian vessels were crafted until I participated in their very making. Nonetheless, I made something for you.” He adds.

To your shock, Neuvillette brought out a tea set with a design that reminded you of a certain sea creature. Who knew your lover would be amazing at the ceramic arts?

“Neuvi, you made these? For me?” You ask, aweing at the cute design that he made. “They’re so cute! You did such an amazing job, you made it by hand and everything!” You flattered him.

He smiled more from your compliment, placing the tea set down on the coffee table for you to touch and admire his work that he made just for you. “I thought it’d be good to give you this. It’d mean a lot to me if you’d accept.”

“Of course I will! You made this yourself, I couldn’t ask anything more than that.” You replied.

Suddenly, an idea came to your mind. “Tell you what, why don’t we use this for water tasting together when the next delivery arrives?”

“That’ll make me all the more happier, my dear.”

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @ragnvdnr @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @astrequa @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino @dudufodd @somberrock @yevenly @lemontum @nghing @shaiah @miss-lady-witch @yashe @imkaaayy @badlywrittens @0rah-s @totallynotaraidensimp @garlicforthewin

#zira's lover : event #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x gn reader #neuvillette x reader fluff #genshin x reader fluff #neuvillette fluff #genshin drabbles #neuvillette drabbles #neuvillette shortfic #genshin shortfic #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette #genshin x gn reader #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader

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wlntrsldler · 2 months

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blurb based on this post.

pre-claiming, pre-betrayal, luke castellan x poseidon!reader, fluff.

while i bathe in cliffside pools with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief.

“rumor has it, capture the flag is coming up,” luke said. he was ripping blades of grass from beside him as his head laid on your stomach. he was facing the blue sky, letting the droplets of water roll off his bare skin.

you’d just emerged from your impromptu dip in the lake to escape the growing heat of summer. you had his camp shirt on top of your body, finding the faint scent of his cologne on the neckline of the shirt comforting. “already? they’re really trying to get us at each other’s throats as soon as possible.”

“yeah,” he scoffed. he rolled his head to face you. “it’s beth’s turn to come up with a strategy.”

there was pride in his eyes, like there always was when he talked about annabeth. you wondered if you had the same sparkle when you talked about her too. it was hard not to be proud of annabeth. after all, you’d known her since she was seven, when you, luke, and thalia found her wandering alone.

you tried not to think of those days too much. those days were painful and lonely; unfair that children were left to fend for themselves. even though you and luke were the oldest of the bunch, you were still just fourteen. at fourteen, you should’ve been dreading the perils of freshman year of high school, not wondering if you’d be fortunate enough to reach sixteen.

“how’s percy holding up?” you asked. your fingers tugged on a strand of hair that was bouncing back into his usual curls. you felt luke soften at your touch.

“he’s doing okay,” luke answered after a beat. “as well as anyone would be after finding out.”

“he’s a tough one, i can tell,” you replied. you attempted to move your hand from luke’s hair, but he held it in place. you complied, starting to rub his scalp. “has he been claimed yet?”

“no, he hasn’t.”

the topic of being claimed was a touchy subject for you as an unclaimed child. the first few months at camp, you had your hopes that your time was coming soon. your godly parent had to claim you eventually, right? but as the months turned into a year and a year turned into five, you lost all hope. somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that you made peace with it.

luke, on the other hand, never did. there were many things he hated about the gods. most of it were general things that made sense; neglecting their children, having them do their dirty work, making them go on dangerous quests where they’re likely to get killed; but the thing that he hated them for the most was that they made you feel unworthy of being acknowledged.

to everyone else at camp, they saw you as someone who beat the odds despite not knowing who your godly parent was. you became a skilled swordsman, coming second only to luke, skilled at archery, and such an incredible leader, but luke didn’t attribute that to your godly parent. he attributed that to your character. your greatness had nothing to do with the gods.

but luke also knew you better than anyone else. he knew that even though you acted like you didn’t care about being claimed, there was still a part of you that stayed fourteen, that stayed hopeful, that one day your parent would claim you.

luke let his lips linger on your hipbone, a reminder that he was still there, as if trying to convince you that while your parent didn’t care enough to claim you, he did. he would shout it from every rooftop, if he could. in fact, on the trip to olympus, he stood at the top of the empire state building and declared his love for you.

chiron, who was forced to discipline him for his antics, banned him for getting dessert for two weeks, but sent you a sly wink as he was telling luke his punishment. you didn’t comment about how you managed to be given two desserts ‘accidentally’ everyday during luke’s punishment.

“we should probably head back soon,” you mumbled, though you made no effort to get up. luke snuggled deeper into you from where he laid. “it’s almost dinner.”

“yeah,” luke sighed. “you’re probably right.”

neither of you made it to dinner, but grover managed to sneak the both of you a handful of strawberries to eat.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan blurb #pjo #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #frances writes #frances song fics

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gummilutt · 3 months

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250 followers Custom Memory Bonanza

It's finally time! To thank all you lovely people for your support, I have been working hard to get this ready for upload and here we are. Today I am sharing my custom memory object, and my library of a whopping 201 custom memories. Based on the wonderful Tattered Diary by DiLight over on MTS, and the tutorial she shared of how to make your own custom memories.

I've always cared a lot about memories, to me they tell the story of the Sims life. Some of you from MTS may recall when I did the whole several year rebuild of my hood, replicating every last detail of the original. I'm memory crazy, okay? And when DiLight gave me the power to make my own, I may have gone a tad overboard. Or just the right amount, you get to decide :P DiLight taught me most of what I know about making custom memories, and the base BHAVs are from her, but as I've learned more I've added some bells and whistles that I hope you will enjoy. It's a new clone and separate GUID from the original tutorial object set up by DiLight, so if you have your own you can have mine too without issues :) Found in misc/misc, costs 1 simoleon.

Download on simfileshare

Features - Brand new form, created by me. Resized BV photo album with new mapping and new texture (seen above, in game pictures at the end of this post). I wanted something that was uniquely mine, and that you don't necessarily have to hide away in the attic or under the foundation. If you don't like it, you also have some additional model forms you can switch between through the pie menu. - Adaptable dynamic menu. Thanks to a really neat trick from @picknmixsims the menu reflects the memories you put in your downloads. If no file with the correct guid is found, the option for it won't show. Which means that although I am crazy enough to have 201, you can go ahead and only pick your favorite ones and the object will automatically detect and adapt the menu to that selection. - Memories all have a custom icon, that's made from game icons from TS2 or TS3. Some I am quite proud of, some are admittedly not great. Not everything is easy to convey through game icons, but I've tried my best, I hope the effort shows. 5 memories have icons that are not from the game, but I tried to match them to the aesthetic as best I could. - Memory subject menu shows only relevant age groups. For example, if the memory is about having a baby, only baby/toddler Sims will show as options. Goal being to keep menu as concise as possible. If you wish to assign memories retroactively, please see jonasn's excellent Memory Commander object, which has support to add my custom memories without age limitations. As well as a whole lot of other useful memory-related stuff. - Extensive documentation detailing everything you may need to know about the memories (text, icon, background, who can get it, who they can get it about, repeatability, where to find it on the object) to help you select the ones you want for your game, and familiarize yourself with them. - English and Swedish translations of memories, and object menu. If someone wants to add their language, that would be great but it's a lot of work so I don't expect it. You are welcome to share your translated versions directly if you wish, or you can send them to me for me to update files shared here :) If you want to learn how to translate the files directly, Episims has a great tutorial found here.

Examples of types of custom memories included - Extended family members memories (got cousin, got aunt/uncle, got sibling, got twin sibling, got great grandchild, got stepparent, got stepchild) - Birth related memories (pregnancy, becoming parent, late in life parent, had multiples birth, premature baby) - Marriage related memories (divorce, parental divorce, custody things, alimony) - Relationship related memories (fighting, breakups, additional love memories) - Woohoo related (memories for specific woohoo locations, repeatable generic woohoo/public woohoo) - University degree related (declared major memories, got a minor degree memories, got a major degree memories, for remembering having studied multiple things and being able to see what major your Sim chose without looking at their diploma) - Loan related, for remembering taking and paying off loans of different types - Moving memories (first apartment, child moves out, various memories for sims moving in with others) - Kids related (child's first day in school, got their own pet, nursery rhyme, giving up for adoption, living at orphanage)

Mods automating delivery of my CC memories (more to come) Learned nursery rhyme from - Found here, by me Wrote restaurant guide - Found here, part of jonasn "Novel Writing Improvements" mod

Credits: DiLight, @picknmixsims, @morepopcorn, @latmosims, @joplayingthesims, maxon, @keoni-chan. For detailed info on how they all impacted the creation of this, see readme :) Policy: Give credit to DiLight, beyond that, totally open. Enjoy!

#gummiluttmods #ts2 mods #ts2 gameplay #ts2 cc #ts2 custom memories #gummi memories

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kikixreverie · 1 year

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Need to know

Best friend!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - When your best friend starts acting strange and you're left confused about his feelings, Natasha manages to convince you to try to make him jealous, what could go wrong?

Word count - 5k

Warnings - kind of smut, Dry-humping, slight dirty talk, a lot of kissing, fluff, jealousy

A/n - This was a request from an anon but Tumblr ate the ask... and I don't have it written down, but it was something along the lines of 'Best friend!bucky x reader where she asks him advice about a guy to make him jealous'. I wrote this months ago and it definitely wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are. I have edited it about 50 times now and still feel kinda anxious about it since I haven't posted in a while so I really hope you enjoy!

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

You had always been close with Bucky. Always. Having met in your teenage years and grown up together, you were thick as thieves, he'd been your best friend for now the majority of your life. Someone you'd always go to over anyone else when problems would arise at home or school, and he did the same with you.

He had found you hiding out in the library on your second day at your new school, picking at your food with distaste as you sat alone. You were surprised at the fact that the boy had even talked to you in the first place, offering a small wave of his hand and a kind smile when you first saw him, but when he asked politely if he could sit with you and didn't hesitate to pull his lunch from his backpack and complain as dramatically as possible that there was just 'far too much food in his bag and no way he could eat it all', you remember smiling the most you had in weeks, rolling your eyes as you took the fruit he had offered you wordlessly.

You'd been best friends ever since, and there was always this unspoken understanding between you, one that you never had with Steve, as much as you loved him, or Natasha, as close as you are. It was always different with Bucky, always a different atmosphere between the two of you.

That was also unspoken. You'd mentioned it once to Natasha, explained to her that somehow, just being in the same room as him managed to calm that ever-looming anxiety you tended to feel, and when you'd meet his eyes across the distance, you always knew exactly what he was trying to tell you without any words needing to be spoken, that for weeks after your childhood pet passed away when you were 15, Bucky held your hand every single day because your anxiety had spiked and he had noticed the constant shake to them. That became a hard habit to lose.

Her response was 'the look', almost deadpan, wordlessly saying to you 'I know you're not a fucking idiot, c'mon now'.

You had blushed and changed the subject.

Of course there were times you might've looked at him a bit differently, you met at a fairly young age, and it was after meeting him that your interest in boys grew.

Watching the scrawny boy you'd known since you were 13 get his braces off and grow a sudden foot taller was a lot for your growing heart to handle, and then that Brooklyn-boy charm came in and girls were falling at his feet, not one of them knowing or caring about who he was, just hypnotised by those light blue eyes. You always hoped he was too distracted by those girls to notice how desperately hard you tried not to fall under his spell too.

So yeah sure, there may have been a time during your mid-to-late teens and possibly your early twenties that you might have liked him in a' more than a friend' way.

But that didn't mean anything had to come of it.

However, there's a certain red-headed Russian woman in your life that, for some reason, refuses to let you hide in your dark pit of misery and denial.

You shouldn't have even mentioned it. the one time you willingly brought up the topic of James Barnes with the all-knowing Natasha and she had immediately fed your delusions.

"I'm not saying he was jealous at all, Nat, I'm just saying... he looked kind of upset."

"What kind of upset? Did he look sad? Angry? Were his eyebrows all furrowed? ooh, did his fists clench? I bet his fists clenched. The jaw definitely clenched. He's a jaw clencher for sure-"

"Nat, Stop! He just..." You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically as you leaned against her kitchen counter, "He just seemed off."

"Okay, but did his jaw-"

"Yes! Now can we stop talking about it."

She stopped what she was doing to stare at you, her eyebrows raised, "You do realise you're the one that brought it up right?"

You sighed and pressed your palm to your forehead, before dragging it down your face, and Natasha tutted, wrapping her arms around you in a tight squeeze.

"You're stressing yourself out too much about all this, babe. Why don't you just ask him how he feels."

You pulled back from the comforting embrace quickly, but still stayed in her arms, "Fuck that. No. No way. Then he'd know, he'd know why I asked, or he'd at least ask me why I asked and then I'd either have to run away or lie to him and I've never been able to-"

"Okay, breathe angel. Stop this, you can't do this forever, honey. I know you're scared of losing him but this is what could break your friendship if you let it, half the time you're avoiding him because you are so scared of him knowing how you feel." Said Natasha, before she pulled away to continue with her cooking.

"What do you mean how I feel?" You asked, feeling your cheeks grow hot when she sighed and shook her head, not even looking your way.

"Nope, no, not even gonna get started on that one. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

You opened your mouth to argue but she only gave you another look, and your mouth snapped closed.

It was silent for a moment and you leant your elbows on the counter, holding your face in your hands as you watched her expertly sprinkle different spices into her food, but you knew not to get too comfortable in her silence, Natasha was scheming, and that was definitely something to be frightened of.

You practically jumped out of your skin when she finally broke the silence, "I have an idea, but I need you to have an open mind and actually listen for once, okay?"

You hesitated, struggling to hold the intense eye-contact she was currently giving you. A part of you was ready to say no, tell her to leave it be and let you wither in a pit of sadness, but the rest of you leaned in to her words, wanting, no, needing something to happen, anything after years of this constant stalemate, this strange game of cat and mouse between yourself and your best friend. You were constantly holding your breath around Bucky, waiting for something inevitable to happen. What that would be? You had no idea, but you couldn't do it anymore.

"...go on." You finally said, having made up your mind without realising. Natasha almost seemed surprised, but you weren't sure that was even possible. She nodded and gave you a smile.

"You wanna know if he was jealous? Give him a reason to be and then figure out if he is, that way, you'll have more of an idea of how he's feeling, and when it comes to talking to him about your feelings, you might actually do it this time. Plus, you might get some info on how to get him even more interested."

You thought over her words, still confused as to what her grand plan was, "And how might I do that exactly?"

"Say you've got a date, ask him for advice, play with him a little bit. Works every time, trust me."

She said it like it was no big deal, and you were stuck on the way her smirk widened when she said 'play with him a little bit'.

"I just told you I can't lie to him." You replied.

Natasha simply raised her eyebrow at you, "As if you haven't been lying to him since you were 15."

"Hey, that's not lying, it's just... concealing certain parts of the truth."

She tilted her head in your direction but you ignored her, turning away completely and crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

"Don't lie then, tell him that your interested in some guy and play it off like your asking for advice. He doesn't have to know that he is said guy and its all a secret ploy to make his jaw clench again."

"Nat." You groaned.

"What?"

"Why would I ask him for advice though? He knows I'd go to you."

Nat sighed this time, frustrated with your excuses, "Tell him you wanted advice from a guy."

"But Steve-"

"Just do it! If he's actually jealous he'll be more focused on the fact that your trying to get into pants that aren't his." She raised her voice, dropping her wooden spoon into the simmering pot to turn to you, that Russian accent peaking through her words.

"Nat, I'm telling you now, he isn't jealous."

She almost started to argue, but then she spotted that dejected look in your eye and stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations and think of a good response, "Are you saying that because you believe it? Or because you want him to be jealous so bad you wish he wasn't, because you're terrified of losing him."

You went silent, staring down at the floor when you realised you had no response for her.

"Thought so." She said before shuffling closer, pulling you in for a hug, "Look babe, you need to stop worrying about what could happen, and just focus on what is happening right now. If you're not ready to tell him how you feel, you don't have to. Trying this won't hurt, and it won't hurt your friendship, okay? Go one step at a time, you're getting too ahead of yourself."

You thought about it for a while as you enjoyed the hug, before you pulled back and nodded, thanking her for the advice and apologising for being difficult, she only chuckled and began to dish up the food.

"No worries honey, I'm used to it."

It's not like you had ever said you'd actually do it, and you never exactly planned to. But Natasha's plan had started to loom over every interaction you had with Bucky, so much so that without realising you had started to avoid him, and that only made you feel worse.

It took a sleepless night of tossing and turning and missing your best friend like crazy when you finally made the decision. You can't do this forever, why not just say fuck it for once.

It started when Bucky had invited you to his place for a movie night, like he did every weekend, like he had the past two weekends where you had declined, but this time you said yes, and decided that this would be the night you tried to make him jealous.

You weren't proud of it, and a part of you felt incredibly guilty as you stood at his door and knocked. No matter how many times Natasha told you this was harmless, you still couldn't believe her.

"Are we knocking now? What happened to 'your place is my place'?" Bucky asked as he opened the front door to let you in, barely moving aside so your arm brushed against his when you walked past him.

"Ha ha. Just didn't know if it was locked or not." You punched his shoulder and he scrunched up his face in mock offense.

"Sure. Go sit down and pick a movie, I'm just getting some snacks ready." Bucky said, nodding to the couch before he turned and walked into the kitchen, black sweatpants so low on his hips you could just about see the waistband of his boxers, wearing a black t-shirt with his hair pulled back into the low bun you'd helped him learn how to do.

You nodded slowly, watching him walk away for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at your own idiotic behaviour and slumping down across Bucky's couch, the remote in your hand as you lazily flicked through Netflix.

"Any particular genre?" You shouted out to Bucky, who came out from the other room to shrug his shoulders at you.

"Like I said, doll, whatever you'd like. Only fair after I made you come with me to see that god-awful movie Pheobe forced me to watch."

You snorted a laugh, frowning when he walked away again, your mind wandering to the last time you went to the movies with Bucky, over a month ago now, when he had forced you to third-wheel his second date with 'Pheobe' for no apparent reason.

It was almost humiliating the way she had pulled you aside in the bathroom.

"I seriously don't mean to be rude but... why are you here?" Pheobe whispered, despite the fact that every stall was empty and Bucky was stood outside the building, but your face grew heated as the woman across from you voiced the exact question you'd been asking yourself all night, "Like, at first I thought you were a lesbian, but after that story you told earlier I'm assuming you're not, which is fine, but why are you here? I told Bucky this was a date. Does he really not like me at all?"

You were stumped, opening and closing your mouth like a blank-minded fish, searching for the answer that you didn't have, only coming up empty, "Honestly Phoebe, I have no idea. I'm sure he does like you, maybe he just wanted me to come to..."

"Maybe he just wanted to go on a date with you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I think I'm the third-wheel here." Her voice went quiet, and you instantly felt bad.

"No, Pheobe. That's absurd, he's my best friend."

"You might want to re-think that."

"What did you pick?" Bucky asked, placing the bowl of popcorn in-between you as he sat down and you smiled at him, pushing away the memory.

"Twilight." You replied, sinking back into your seat as you grabbed and handful of popcorn and shovelled it into your mouth.

Bucky nodded as his eyes focused on the screen, his jawline prominent as he chewed, licking his lips of the salty flavouring, a light stubble on his jaw from not shaving in a few days-

"You good?"

You gulped loudly, taking a breath as you met his eyes, embarrassed that you'd been caught staring, "Yup." You said, nodding as you turned to look at the screen again, ignoring his amused chuckle.

Your mind wandered to the conversation you'd had with Natasha only hours ago.

'Don't overthink it, just bring it up when you get the chance, be casual about it'

No overthinking, casual. Easy. Maybe now would be a good time to bring it up, casually, without overthinking anything.

"Actually-" You started, clearing your throat when it immediately closed up and your fight or flight was begging to kick in, your mind instantly wondering to all of the negative repercussions this could-

You were definitely overthinking right now.

"Yes?" Bucky asked, still half watching the movie before he fully turned to face you, sensing that this sounded fairly serious.

Definitely not casual either.

"I wanted to uh, talk to you about something." The temptation to smack yourself on the forehead was growing unbearably stronger by the second, but you imagined that would probably raise some concern. Your hands twitched by your sides instead.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's kind of- I basically, well." You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but sighed instead, just fucking say it, fucking lie to your best friend to find out if he's jealous, "There's this guy."

His eyebrows raised, lips parting, before he quickly snapped his mouth shut and furrowed his eyebrows, taking on a sort of clinical expression as he nodded, motioning for you to continue.

"He's uh... I really- like... him, and... he's..." You took a breath, too many pauses, "different, you know?"

He scrunched his face up, "Different? What does that even mean."

"I don't know I just-" You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision that had led you to this point. "I really want him to like me."

It was quiet for a moment, and you wanted to peak at him, but couldn't.

Bucky sighed, hands gently taking hold of your wrists to pull your hands away from your face, "Look sweetheart, if he's really a smart guy, he'll already like you. Any person would be lucky to have you, you don't need to change for anyone."

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled nonetheless, "I know Buck, thank you. I just..."

Don't overthink it.

"I was wondering if maybe, you might give me some advice? I'm seeing him on Monday and I guess I just want to make him want me, you know?"

He paused, still holding onto your wrists, "Want you?"

"Yeah, you know like- I wanna know what guys really like. I want to make sure he'll never forget me. That sort of thing."

"Sweets, I don't know if you should be asking me that. Why don't you just talk to Natasha if it's that important." He said, letting go of your wrists and pulling away.

"Because I want to hear it from a guy, and Steve's far too awkward for this conversation. C'mon Buck, please. I want you to teach me."

"You want me to teach you?" He asked, more than slightly breathless, and you quickly realised that this sounded much less like getting advice for a guy you like and more trying to get info on what Bucky liked sex-wise.

You did not plan for it to go down that route, and you wondered if you should pull it back, change the subject and try this again another time, without getting too explicit, but the way Bucky had almost whispered those words, was driving you insane. You wanted this to go further. "Yeah, I want to give this guy the night of his life."

He clenched his jaw, and tried not to laugh at the situation, almost tempted to text Natasha at that very moment and break the news. 'Jaw has clenched, I repeat, the jaw has clenched'. You managed to keep that temptation under control, still finding the situation slightly humorous before you actually realised what this meant.

Holy fuck, he's jealous.

You knew now was as good a time as any to push further, and with your new-found realisation, came a new-found confidence, the nerves pushed to the back of your mind, the only thing left of them being the fluttering in your chest.

"What do you think I should wear?" You held back a smirk when he leaned forward in his seat, elbows rested on his knees as he dropped his face into his hands. You kept pushing, "Remember that green dress I wore to your birthday last year? Do you think I should wear that one? You'd think he'd like that? Would you like it if it were you?"

"What do you mean if it were me?"

You froze, your cheeks heating up, that heat spreading to your neck as you quickly tried to save yourself whilst keeping this strange relaxed smoothness to your voice. "If you went on a date with Pheobe, and she wore that dress, would you like it?" You asked, before deciding to push it even further. Natasha's voice echoed in your mind 'play with him a little', "Would you think about taking it off her?"

He didn't even hesitate to reply, turning his head to look at you as he continued to sit forward, an almost angered air to his words, "It wouldn't suit her."

"You don't like it? But I thought-"

"Yes, I liked the dress, you looked fucking gorgeous in it. It just would suit her." He urged, the words coming out in one breath, his voice straining over the final word as if it was physically uncomfortable to say, like he held a certain distaste for the word. Her.

You could sense the atmosphere in the room changing, warping with the darker, heavy feeling that radiated off the man you were teasing without him even realising it, and although you knew you should probably stop, that you were getting on his nerves and for some reason this seemed to be a touchy subject, that nagging, red-headed voice was seeping into your thoughts again, telling you to go further, so you continued to push.

"Would he like it do you think?" You asked, tilting your head, keeping that sickly sweet innocent look on your face, he sighed and closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips again, teeth biting at the soft skin.

"If he had half a brain he'd fucking love it." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing along the words 'fucking love it' and you knew exactly what he was thinking of, the picture he had in his head.

Your smile faded, watching the way he opened his eyes but kept them trained to his feet. That heat grew in your chest, that weight, that feeling, weaving its way around your heart and seeping into your bloodstream, it carried through your veins, and suddenly you had never felt closer to your teenage self than you did now, like she had pushed the older you aside and taken her place, because she knew this feeling, she was the only version of you to ever fully accept and admit it for what it was, that the reason she blushed so much when her best friend asked her to prom because he'd rather go with you than some random girl he didn't care about, was because you loved him, and of course you still do now, of course you do.

You thought of what Pheobe said that night, you thought of what Natasha was constantly telling you, or that time Steve accidentally slipped that Bucky had a crush on you when you were younger, and you looked at him now, quickly realising that it was never them who warped your idea of Bucky's feelings, it was you.

The feeling had encapsulated your entire being now, the realisation of yours and his feelings and you decided that you had both waited far too long if this is what you wanted.

And you wanted him.

So you continued to play, speaking with a much more serious air this time, you didn't smirk, you just watched him as you spoke.

"I guess that's settled then, I just need to know what to wear under it." You practically whispered it, the warm apartment feeling sweltering now.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself, dropping his head in his hands again, "What are you doing?"

He looked at you from his bent position, almost looking desperate. No, he did look desperate, and you hated and loved it at the same time, for two very different reasons, you understood exactly what he was feeling, having been a victim to his teasing one too many times.

You parted your lips to talk, thinking for a second that you might actually be upsetting him, but then his eyes dropped to watch the movement, staring at your lips as he released a breath.

"I'm asking you for advice, Buck." You said quietly, eyes darkening as you leaned closer, your nose almost touching his and his eyes dropped again, entranced by your lips, "What about kissing?"

His lips parted, eyes darting up to meet yours, but he made no move to go back, in fact, you realised with a feather-light touch of his nose to yours, that he had inched closer to you, "What?"

His eyes were soft as he waited for you to speak, no apprehension to be seen.

"I need to know how to kiss him, how guys like it, you know?" He moved back an inch, that not so subtle disappointment in his eyes, "How do you like to be kissed, Buck?"

He shook his head in a barely there movement, eyes still not leaving yours, swallowing roughly when he caught you looking at his lips.

You moved closer to him, filling that inch that he had put between you, your heart thumping faster in your chest when he did the same, like he was magnetised, he looked at your lips again and you decided to take the chance.

"Like this?" You asked, before filling the gap completely and your pressed your lips to his, kissing him soft and slow, your stomach fluttering when he didn't hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you back the exact way you were guiding him to, but you pulled back before letting it continue for long, his breath fanning out across your lips, you gaze fluttered to his eyes for a moment, "Or like this?"

You kissed him again, this time harder, more urgency in it, your right hand lifting to his shoulder before you slid it to the nape of his neck, a sudden desperate need for his lips on every inch of your skin overcoming your thoughts when his arms wrapped around your waist.

You pulled away again and he tried desperately hard to follow you, eyes opening to voice his frustration when you wouldn't let him.

But you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, silencing him, "Or maybe like this."

This, this was definitely the one.

You kissed him soft and slow, but this time parted your lips to brush your tongue across his, relishing in the noise that escaped him when you did so, and the way he then did the same to you, parting his lips in a way that breathed hot air into the kiss.

You were so enraptured with the taste of him that you barely even noticed when he pulled you onto his lap, your knees digging into the couch on either side of him. You only realised when his thighs between yours had suddenly stopped your ability to squeeze your thighs together in hopes of relieving that throbbing ache that had formed between them.

This kiss continued much longer than you had planned it to, forgetting what you were going to do next, but you didn't mind much, too caught up in the way his lips were so stupidly soft and his tongue was hot and wet, and his hands were huge and grasping at your clothes with a desperation so similar to the way you pulled his hair.

You pulled away again, much to his dismay as he practically growled and rolled his eyes in frustration. He rested his head back against the couch and licked his kiss swollen lips.

You needed more, barely letting yourself think about the fact that you had just kissed Bucky, The Bucky, Your Bucky.

"What about this, Buck? You like it when a girl does this?" You asked and he frowned, looking up at you in almost annoyed confusion, opening his mouth to speak but then you moved forward on his lap, sitting in a way that your core was pressed against his, his cock twitching in his sweatpants when you rolled those hips of yours, the annoyance and confusion faded and he reached for your hips, eyes fluttering shut when you made the movement again, biting your lip when it stimulated your clit, "Do you think you could come from this, Bucky? Or would you need more? Would you want my hand, or my mouth? Or would you just be begging to fuck me at this point."

He groaned at practically every question, his hands holding your hips as you grinded yourself on him, his cock now achingly hard as his hips started to lift slightly.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what is this? Why are you doing this?" He asked, his voice urgent and needy as he forced himself to stay still under you, gripping your hips tighter to signal for you to stop your movements, much to either of your dismay, "Please tell me this isn't all for some fuckin' guy."

You froze, confused for a second, before realising he still had no idea, and that guilt you had shoved away creeped back in.

Your heart was in your throat as you finally told him the truth, "It is, but he's you Buck. It was always you, it's always been you."

His lips parted, eyes widening slightly at what you had just confessed to him, "I'm the guy you were asking me advice about?"

"Well yeah, who else am I gonna get better advice about what you like from? Better to hear it from the horses mouth, eh?" You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as you watched him huff a laugh with a shake of his head.

"Natasha, right?" He asked, raising an eyebrow but you didn't respond, probably looking very guilty of his accusation, "Well, I guess I should tell you that we may have been two-timed by her. She actually gave me the very same advice a few months ago, I just never had the guts to take it as far as you did."

"You talk to Nat about me?" You teased, but he only smiled gently, soft eyes watching you.

"Of course I do, how could I not tell her all about the girl I've been in love with since I was 15." He confessed quietly, blush reddening his cheeks, "God, she must be sick of me talking about you."

You laughed quietly, trying not to settle into the disbelief of it all and instead focus on your excitement, that teenage girl inside of you was screaming with glee and kicking her feet. You didn't let realisation that James Barnes just confessed he'd loved you the whole time you'd loved him be tainted with regret about wasted time.

"She must be sick of us both, I've been doing the same thing ever since I met her."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, pressed your forehead against his.

"What do we do now?" You asked, still very much feeling the physical after-effects of your intense make-out session.

Bucky huffed a laugh, "I'd love to say go to the bedroom, but not yet, I think we should work up to that."

You nodded and smiled, understanding what he meant and feeling thankful he was able to voice it for you, "Agreed."

"We could do this for a while longer though, still got four and a half twilight movies left to go." Bucky joked, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to brush against soft skin.

"Hm, sounds like an excuse to make out with your best friend all night."

"Maybe it is." He whispered back before he kissed you again, using his hand on your back to press you against him.

It felt so natural to the both of you, your bodies fitting together perfectly, no awkwardness or anxiety. You knew you'd both need to talk properly soon, but that could wait a few movies more, for now you could settle with kissing him until you ran out of air.

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edges-of-night · 9 months

Note

Hello I noticed you were taking requests and I had a little bit of an angsty request if you're willing.

Could you perhaps do how the lotr characters react to their reader SO opening up about having a bad childhood.

Please don't do if it makes you uncomfy.

Have a nice day,

led

I’m sorry you had to wait so long for your request – I hope you enjoy the post!

I would also like to thank you for requesting this topic so politely. It admittedly wasn’t easy to write for me, but I really appreciated your understanding tone! Have a nice day as well!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn shows great understanding for what you have told him. He would quietly thank you for trusting him with such knowledge and instantly offer to care and comfort you, should you need it, like holding your hand as he presses a tender kiss to your head. It is needless to say he would treat anything you told him very discreetly and respectfully.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would feel with you. No matter where you opened up to her, she would instantly offer to go take a walk with her. “I may not be able change what happened to you,” she’d whisper as she took your hand. “But I can make sure that such things will never happen to you again.” Though her voice may seem sombre, she always has a comforting smile or hug for you!

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir would have great empathy for you, remembering his own difficult childhood – especially in consideration of his brother. Although he isn’t too talkative when it comes to this subject, he is in tune with his own emotions. It helps you come to terms with your own past. You two bond over what has been and take refuge in the knowledge that you now have each other and are faraway from the past.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond would quietly listen to what you told him and offer you comfort with a stern expression. But inside, he is quite upset – as a father himself, you would not be able to bear what you had told him. He would treat you even kinder afterwards, looking out for you and trying to avoid any triggers that could remind you of your childhood hardship.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

After listening to your story, Éomer would tell you how much strength it takes to open up about such things. He is deeply impressed with how you handle your past – even if you thought you did a poor job at it. He will have none of that self-loathing in his company! “I do not want to hear you speak so ill of yourself again. You were but a child. Look how strong you became despite what happened! I am endlessly proud of you.”

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

What you tell Éowyn is something she carries around with her for a long time, even if she doesn’t show it. She cannot understand how someone who went through such hardship can still come out such a kind and noble person. She now tries to bring more joy into your life and shield you from possible harm. She won’t bring up the topic anew, unless you ask her to talk again, of course.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

With Faramir, you could very easily bond over difficult childhoods. You simply understand each other, more than other people could. With him, you could even talk regularly about what had happened to you. Faramir helps you put everything into perspective, or offers you words of advise and comfort. You can do the same for him and always feel relieved afterwards, when you cuddle in silence, content with your quasi-therapeutic conversation.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Where Frodo comes from, people do not talk about childhood problems or trauma. So you opening up to him comes as quite the surprise. That said, he does understand – not everything. But he doesn’t have to. You are content to just have someone say, “I’m really sorry that happened to you.” Frodo offers you help whenever he can and is careful and considerate to keep possible triggers away from you. “We’ll manage this together. Right?” he’d say with a soft smile, stroking a gentle thumb over your hand.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel is a very empathetic Elf, so she feels alongside with you. If you cried during your conversation, it is likely she would shed a tear as well. That said, she would of course have wise words of advice and healing for you. “You have my sympathy for what happened to you. Just know that your past does not define you. Each of us makes their own destiny.”

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf may not have had a childhood himself, but he has seen enough to know that such a thing isn’t easy to live with. Though he may not answer you immediately – maybe he wonders what to say after all? – you can feel that you have his empathy. And somehow, you really do believe that things will be fine when the one saying that platitude is Gandalf the Grey.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

Gimli is a surprisingly good listener, you learn as you open up to him. He is silent and probably saddened by what he heard, but afterwards, he would definitely tell you how proud he is of you for not only surviving your past but putting it into words now, years later. He’d also give you a soft smile and promise you that things will get brighter.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir is probably the last person you wanted to tell about your bad childhood – but it happened anyway. You simply couldn’t bear his snarky and jealous comments about your ‘perfect upbringing’ anymore. Needless to say, he would fall entirely silent after your retelling. He would now see you in a new light and respect you even more for having survived all that you told him about. Somewhere along the line, he’d even offer you a hug!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

You and Legolas would bond over your parents and hardship as children and young adults. As an Elf, Legolas is not very much in touch with negative memories and emotions, as they are literally unhealthy for him. Together, you work through what you experienced. Even though your conversations leave him pensive, he would always thank you the next day for the knowledge you shared.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would be an exceptionally good listener. He may be childish from time to time, but he recognises the sincerity of your conversation early on. He also has unexpectedly wise words for you and encourages you to speak less derogatory about yourself. “You were just a child. And these things weren’t supposed to happen to you. To no one, really. Come on. Be kind to yourself.” He’d also take your hand sit in silence with you for as long as you need!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would need a few moments to understand what you said. His childhood has been great, he has no bad feelings or memories for it. That does not mean that he would be ignorant to your feelings though. Sharing your story with him not only helps you process what has happened to you, but also teaches him to seek out new perspective. In the end, Pippin would offer you a big pot of ice cream as comfort ♡

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

After hearing your story, Sam would sit in silence for a few moments, thinking about what he heard. Then he would try and comfort you with an allegory or comparison that reflected your childhood – he is a poet at heart after all. Though he struggles to find the right words, his care and sincerity soothe you. Somehow you know that, no matter how dark your days may get, there is always sunshine in your life when you’re with Samwise Gamgee.

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f1letters · 1 year

Text

sweet nothing | sv5

"all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

summary: after years of battling infertility, seb was still by her side. he didn't need anything else but her... but maybe their lives were about to get a little more crowded

warning: a little bit sad at times but overall fluff, mentions of endometriosis, infertility, inability to conceive, fertility treatments and pregnancy, mentions of a person attacking the reader for not continuing with treatments to have children, mentions of anxiety and insecurity

pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

word count: 3.0k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past. I would also like to point out that I am not a doctor nor do I have professional knowledge on the subject, having relied on personal experience and the additional research I did on the subject. I tried my best not to be too focused on the medicinal terms so I wouldn't give the wrong information.

german words used: liebling = darling; engel = angel; schatz = sweetheart

no better week to post this story than the week we say goodbye to Seb. nobody talk to me during race weekend, because I'll be busy crying my heart out. 😭 it's so sad to see Seb leave but above all, I hope he is the happiest person in the world with his family and that he knows that he is forever a legend of this sport. danke Seb, you will forever be my number 1 💘

masterlist

I spy with my little tired eye

Tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket

We almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

"You are 18 weeks pregnant, Mrs Vettel." The obstetrician told her.

"That's not possible," Y/N replied, not being able to believe the words she was hearing. The only sound she could hear at that moment was her own heart pounding loudly in her ears like heavy rain hitting the window glass during a storm. "Please check again. There must be an error in the ultrasound machine, it has to be."

The doctor turned the screen so the woman could see the image displayed. Y/N found herself completely paralyzed by the shock it caused her. It can't be, she still didn't believe it.

But it is true, she understood that when she read her information at the top of the monitor. It was there: 'Y/N Vettel', along with her age, her gender and the correct date of that miraculous day.

"Are you sure you didn't notice any symptoms?" The professional asked, curious. "Your pregnancy is already a little over four months. You've certainly felt something, or noticed something different in your body."

The truth is that she had noticed a thousand differences in herself over the last few years, but, convinced by the doctors that she was not capable of having a baby and already resigned that it was not a part of her plans, she chose to ignore them until she had no choice but to come to the doctor to confirm.

It all started when her period missed its usual date, something she quickly attributed to the stress, the work, and the constant travels she had to make to support her husband around the world.

This was followed by the sudden tiredness and fatigue she felt and her abrupt mood swings (immediately noticed by Sebastian, who was the one suffering the most because of them). But once again, work and travel became the explanations constantly given.

When she was in Japan about two months prior, that's when nausea started but, I mean, it was Japan and the woman didn't deprive herself at all from eating and enjoying all the exotic foods of that magical country, which logically had caused some sort of food poisoning, she thought.

All of these alterations had plausible answers, and none of them sounded out of the ordinary until Y/N started noticing a small bump in her stomach, though still nothing major.

At first, she wondered if it was due to her sloppiness in her exercise routine. But when she found herself looking at her reflection in the mirror and starting to create expectations about a hypothetical baby, the driver's wife decided that the best thing would be to step back from dreamland and go to the doctor.

Not because she expected to hear that her biggest dream had finally come true, but rather to keep her from imagining a life that would never be possible, or so she thought.

When looking at her baby for the first time, tears began to form in her eyes. He was so small, tiny as a firefly, but so real. His little feet, his delicate hands, his loving face. She couldn't believe that love of such a dimension could instantly consume her, warm her soul, and fill her with hope and dreams long forgotten.

"It's a boy, isn't it?" she asked, sure the answer would be yes. Inexplicably perhaps, as soon as she looked at him, all she could see was Sebastian.

Oh my god, how could I, she panicked. Y/N was so confident that this trip to the doctor would be nothing and now all she could think about was how she had taken away her husband's experience of being able to find out about the pregnancy on her side.

"Yes, it's a little boy." The obstetrics confirmed after a few minutes, smiling at the pregnant woman lying on the bed. "How did you know?"

"I don't know, it was just a feeling." Y/N replied. "And... And is everything alright with him?"

"Don't worry, my dear." The doctor placed her hand over the other woman's. "He is perfect and seems to be completely out of harm's way. Now you just have to take care of yourselves and enjoy the process."

They said the end is comin'

Everyone’s up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shovin'

You're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'

After tucking two copies of the ultrasound carefully into the bottom of her suitcase, the woman left the clinic on a mission: running home to her lover's sweet nothings.

A few meters ahead, she managed to signal for a taxi to stop and thus began her journey home. The happiness she felt radiated everywhere as she leaned the top of her head against the car window and recalled all the stormy moments that had brought her here, to the happiest day of her life.

"Seb, I can't see. You do it." The young woman told her husband, covering her eyes, afraid to know the test result in front of them.

"Okay, liebling. Relax." He said, placing his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to control his wife's stress. "Regardless of the outcome, we'll deal with it, together." He placed a soft kiss on the top of her hair.

They had been trying to have a baby for a few months now, without success, and she especially was starting to feel the pressure. Seb, the more peaceful and patient of the two, did what he could to reassure her that they would be okay, come what may, but Y/N was starting to think something was wrong with her.

The driver took the white stick and turned it over, immediately noticing the two pink stripes. "Engel..." His voice whispered, barely audible. "You- We- We are having a baby."

In disbelief, she took his hand to confirm it with her own eyes. "Oh my god, we made it. We're having a baby." The two embraced and the world around them disappeared as the newlyweds wept with happiness.

The couple immediately called their parents and close family, excited to share the good news with everyone. Everyone knew how much this child was wanted and how much they tried to make it a reality.

They were so happy for a few days.

Two days later, the two went to the clinic to confirm that all was well with their future son or daughter. The process was very normal at first. They filled out the proper paperwork and answered the typical necessary questions. She then lay in bed while the doctor put the gel on her stomach and pressed the ultrasound probe into her belly, expecting to see their baby on the monitor.

They were fairly calm, until the obstetrician left the room without warning, returning minutes later with an older man, clearly a more experienced doctor, to help with the consultation.

Y/N and Seb looked at each other, both fearing the worst. But neither of them expected the words the doctor said to them as they all sat around his secretary.

"I'm afraid the positive test Mrs Vettel took a few days ago was a false positive." The man revealed.

On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time

Ooh, ooh

On her way home, the anticipation of telling her husband about their miracle grew as Y/N approached her destination.

As she got out of the taxi after paying the nice gentleman who drove her, the woman stopped to look around the neighbourhood. God, how perfect it was to raise a child there, she thought, as soon as her eyes fell on the image of a father and his little son playing football.

She could picture Seb and their baby boy a few years from then right there, kicking the ball around, and that would more than compensate for all the hardships they'd been through.

Since the day she was confronted with her endometriosis and for the next three years, Sebastian and his wife spent days on end with doctors and specialists, testing natural methods and different medications, and reading books on the subject.

A thousand different diagnoses, a thousand treatment options, and a thousand advice guides from people who had gone through the same thing.

All this led to discouragement and exhaustion for both of them.

"Sebastian, I don't think this will work..." She admitted, afraid of upsetting him. "We've tried everything."

"Liebling..." The driver called out to her, pain notable in his voice. "If it doesn't work out, we can always build our family in another way. We have fostering, surrogacy, adoption..."

"I'm tired of this, Seb." She confessed, for the first time, exhausted from the whole process and with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I'm tired of trying."

'Cause they said the end is comin'

Everyone's up to somethin’

I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shovin’

You're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was nothin'

Y/N put her key in the lock and turned it, opening the door to the cosy blue house where they lived.

As soon as she entered her home, the young woman immediately smelled the magnificent scent of her favourite dish in the air, following it to the kitchen.

And there he was.

In the kitchen humming, swaying his hips gently to the music that played softly beside him as he prepared dinner.

She couldn't pass up that moment to stop and appreciate the love of her life.

Although he was a star of the Formula 1 world, had four world championships under his belt and was an idol to thousands of people around the world, Sebastian was his best version like this: at home, with his small acts of love, so simple and humble.

Without realizing it, Y/N let out a sob, just as she started to cry. She wept with joy, with gratitude, with love. He was without a doubt her best friend and she couldn't have chosen anyone better to be by her side than the German.

"Engel, what's the matter?" Seb asked, turning quickly to her and approaching her, as soon as he heard her cry. "What happened? Is something wrong?"

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it

"What do you mean you're going to stop treatments?" Y/N's mother questioned, with a scorned face. "You should be doing more, not giving up, for God's sake."

In fact, the relationship between Y/N and her mother had never been easy or healthy, but still, it hurt her to hear such judgment coming from someone who was supposed to love and support her unconditionally.

"Mum, that was our decision. It doesn't matter what you think is right or what you think is best." Y/N declared, trying to keep herself calm.

"That's what you say now." The older lady spoke up, her muscles tense with anger and not caring in the least about her daughter's feelings. "Not only are you depriving me of having grandchildren, but you are also preventing your own husband from having his own children. By choice. It won't take long to find someone else to give them to him. You'll see."

It won't take long to find someone else to give them to him.

You'll see.

Those terrible words were chanting in the poor girl's head, like a scratched record stuck in the same song.

It was safe to say that that conversation between mother and daughter had more consequences than expected from a simple breakfast. Y/N's mood was ruined for the rest of her day.

After returning home to her husband, the woman occasionally excused herself to the bathroom during the day in an attempt to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

However, Seb knew her better than the back of his hand. As soon as he looked at her walking through the door, he knew something was wrong, but he tried to give her space so she felt comfortable opening up to him about what was going on.

When the driver realized that he had no other option but to intervene, he entered the bathroom without warning, coming face to face with the image of his wife sitting on the toilet, crying as she hid in between her hands.

"Schatz, please talk to me." Seb pleaded, running his hand carefully over her hair as he lowered himself to her level.

"You're going to leave me, that's what's wrong." She confessed, letting her voice rise in volume. "All because I'm a complete failure as a woman and as a wife. I've tried, I've tried everything. But I can't give you the family you want, or the children you deserve."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, more confused than ever by his wife's sudden insecurity.

"You deserve so much better than me, Seb..." Y/N looked right into his eyes, trying to apologize for something she had no control over. "To you I can admit that I'm just too soft for all this. I can't live with the guilt of ruining your dreams anymore."

"Liebling, stop. Look at me." He took her hands and placed them on top of his own cheeks, making her maintain eye contact between them. "You are more than enough. I would give up everything for you. I don't need children, championships, money or fame." He continued, leaning his head against her thighs.

"All that I ever wanted from you was nothing. You are literally the only thing I need in this world to be happy."

They said the end is comin'

Everyone's up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shovin'

You're in the kitchen hummin'

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'

Y/N grabbed the collar of the army green shirt her husband was wearing and pulled him to her, letting her lips cover his.

She poured all of her feelings into that kiss, quickly reciprocated with the same intensity by Seb as soon as he got over the shock of her unexpected movement.

Her tears continued to stream down her face, and although the German could taste them in his mouth, he knew that, no matter what was going on with Y/N, that demonstration of love between them was exactly what she needed at that time.

As soon as their now swollen lips parted ways, Sebastian broke the silence. "As much as I love every time you kiss me like that, I'm getting worried, engel. Did something happen? Where were you?"

"Oh sweetheart, something happened, yes, and you'll never believe what I have to tell you." Her smile appeared on her face again, so bright and cheerful, that her partner felt the corners of his mouth mirror the movement of her lips.

They said the end is comin'

Everyone's up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shovin'

You're in the kitchen hummin'

"I'm honestly so lost, schatz." The man laughed, shaking his head. "But I can assume by your face that it's a good thing, I think?"

She laughed along with him, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek as she turned to her purse. Her hand reached for the rectangular image hidden at the bottom of the bag.

Seb held out his hand, expecting her to put the mysterious object on top of it.

His eyes were deceiving him. It can't be, his thoughts racing.

"Are- Are you- Is this yours?" He stuttered nervously.

Y/N nodded her head and wrapped the blond man around the waist. "We're going to have a baby, my love. It finally happened."

"But you- We- The treatments stopped-" He couldn't even form a complete sentence, which made his partner giggle like a little kid.

"Looks like he was just waiting for the right moment to show up." She leaned her cheek against her best friend's chest as he placed his chin on the top of her head.

"He? Is it a boy?" His voice faltered for a moment, unable to contain his emotion.

"Oops, surprise?" He felt her chest rise and fall against his as Y/N chuckled softly.

"I couldn't be happier, liebling." Sebastian looked at her, full on crying, with his hands over his wife's cheeks. "Just having you by my side makes me the happiest man in the world."

"I can't wait to meet our baby. I bet he's going to be your twin." She laughed, returning to her soulmate's warm embrace. "Thank you, Seb."

"Thanks for what?"

"Thank you for wanting nothing from me except for me."

"I love you more than anything, you and our little one." He placed his hand on her stomach for the first time, feeling the small bump, much to his shock.

"And I love you, Vettel." She replied, feeling a single tear run down her face.

"Michael won't believe me when I tell him this."

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothin'

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(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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kix-mm · 9 months

Note

Hey you asked for fear angst things to write. I’m not sure if you wanted an comment on that post or an ask but.

Maybe the tinies are the reason for fear. Like an average person maybe finds themselves in an tiny world. But like the tiny military gets ahold of them. And maybe experiments or uses them as a weapon. Cause sometimes tinys can be scary as heck too.

I imagined a few different scenarios with this prompt! Sorry if this story is a little short, I've been very busy recently, and I'm coming down with the flu!

“Wait- wait! There has to be a misunderstanding!” The alien called in their foreign language, nobody could understand their words, their pleas. Many tried to settle their foreign visitor with little to no success.

It was hard for either parties to trust each other, one was chained, hidden, and exposed to experiments such as sampling and strange studies, they were unable to rest easy and became delirious with time due to the constant trauma and lack of sleep.

The other was subjected to decades of brainwashing, distilling fear of the unknown into their minds ever since they were young. The size difference between the two only made the humans more wary… though over time more and more employees began to speak up. Stating that their experimentation was inhumane and unnecessary.

Eventually those who fought against the cruel treatment gained the upper hand, and all tests were shut down for good. And over time, experts managed to find a way to translate the aliens words, even managing to find a way to reassemble them into new sentences which they then used to communicate with the alien.

It took a long time to gain their trust, but not many will ever be able to forget the fist day of making verbal contact with their visitor…

Professor J. August enters the room. Subject immediately notices their presence and attempts to make themselves as small as possible while pressing their body into a corner. J. August attempts contact.

[Hello? Can you understand me?] Mr August doesn’t attempt to get any closer to subject in hopes to make them more at ease.

Subject looks unmistakably surprised yet remains still, they do not try to communicate in return. Mr August attempts contact again.

[Hello? Can you understand what I’m saying?]

“Y-yes…”

[I’m Professor August, do not worry, I’m not here to cause any harm… none of us here want to hurt you]

There was a long uncomfortable silence before the subject positioned themselves more comfortably, they still seem very wary.

“You did hurt me… you hurt me a lot, I just want to go home, please, please let me go…”

Mr August, along with the majority of his employees look defeated by the pleas… guilt fills the room in silence.

[I know, it was cruel to treat you like so, we promise to release you soon. It’s only right to set you free after all we had done to you. Please know that none of my current employees ever supported this poor treatment.]

The subject aggressively leans forward, the chains tug on their limbs.

“I want to go home! I don’t want your pity! I want to go! Let me go!”

The professor takes a step back and flinches, hastily typing on their tablet before giving up and attempting direct communication in the language.

“You will go home! You will! I promise you that! But please you have to settle down so you don’t scare the authorities into thinking you’re a threat.”

There was another sudden silence between the two. The subject now begins to cry due to their anxiety and high levels of stress. Doctors and scientists suspect that the alien is only a juvenile, around the ages of 12 to 16, treating like the suspected range of age has yielded positive results.

[I’m sorry for my sudden behavior, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I only want to help you and I… I panicked. I don’t want anyone to hurt you anymore.]

“… I didn’t mean to scare anyone… I thought I was the only one that was scared. I’m sorry…”

[it’s not your fault, but please try to stay as calm as possible okay? Then I promise you that everything will go well]

"And if it doesn't...?"

[... you have my word]

The subject doesn't seem too happy with the answer, and it retreats back into its corner.

From then forward, none other than professor August was permitted to communicate with the specimen. Their relationship never improved much despite his efforts to comfort and bond with the child. This never persuaded Professor August to prolong the beings' stay. At the end of that same year, the being was set free.

Unfortunately for earth, it's reputation from then on was permanently tarnished, for not only holding a young child hostage but also torturing it. To this day, every other species has deemed this planet unnegotiable due to their false promises and brutal treatment to their own species and those of any other...

#gentle giant #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t #gt community #gt story #gt art #gt angst #alien #writblr #writerscorner #writing #gt writing

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dancing-with-the-madmen · 2 years

Text

The Massive Aggression of Calico Jack, redux

Several kind souls have complained brought it to my attention that my failure to use cut tags is, in fact, not optimal. I don't have any good reason that I don't use cuts - mostly I'm just throwing these thoughts out here so they don't endlessly rattle around my brain. Frankly, I'm endlessly astonished anyone but me can be arsed to bother wading through them at all. So, after a truly epic tantrum thoughtful consideration, I've decided to edit my longer posts to add cuts. If you've already read them, (may endless blessings rain down upon you) there's no new content (vile lies and calumny. I'm going to take this opportunity to fix errors and add a line here or there, but nothing major). Just making it more scroll-friendly. You'll know it when you see the word "redux" in the title. So without further ado...

I’ve been trying for a while to put my finger on exactly what it is about Our Flag Means Death's Calico Jack that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and smother him to death with my own abandoned ecdysis.

I mean, I normally love me a spurned admirer/cock-blocking ex. Romantic comedies have their beats, and there’s obviously no serious danger the love interest will end up with anyone other than their intended, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the machinations. After all, the course of true love never did run smooth, and these bitches are here to rough some shit up for sure. I also love Will Arnett. Hands down favorite recurring character on 30 Rock. The second best Batman after TAS (fight me). I can even cheerfully bear his Reese’s commercials if I must bear commercials at all.

Real-life Calico Jack? One of my v. favorite pirates. He wore floral-printed cotton from India as a fuck you to the British tax man. He had an affair with Anne Bonny and offered to purchase her divorce when her husband found out. The two ran away together into piracy when Bonny’s husband refused to quit her and had her whipped for her infidelity. Mary Read was part of Jack and Anne’s crew, and possibly their lover. We love a hopeless romantic, possibly polyamorous king.

So what is it about OFMD Calico Jack that makes him so acutely punchable?

I’ve rewatched the episode several times (oh my v. dears, I really hope this write-up is worth it. I am SO BRAVE to subject myself to this), and I think I’ve finally got it. It’s not just that he’s a loud, vulgar, hectoring, drunken jackass of a bird-murderer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have as little patience for his brand of mindless destruction and violence-for-violence-sake as Stede does, but that’s not all. It’s that he’s also a master of passive aggression.

Jack does the little whisper-y “Sorry! Sorry!” when Stede wants to know what’s with all the cannon fire, but immediately starts grinning like an unrepentant varlet as soon as he drops his hands.

And then accepts Stede’s introductory handshake with clear derision.

When Stede says he wasn’t expecting guests and there’s only two settings at brekkie, Jack doesn’t wait for Stede to sort things out, and he’s already lowering himself into Stede’s chair by the time Stede invites him to take his spot. He then purposefully keeps steering the conversation to topics that exclude Stede from participating, and cuts Stede short when he tries to reign the conversation back.

He insinuates Stede is less of a pirate for being “store bought”

He refuses to get Stede’s name right, even when corrected. Twice.

And is just SO insincere when calling him back.

And, just, the whole pissing contest scene.

But so what? We’ve had other passive aggressive assholes on the show; Badminton with his cracks about Stede’s tiny dick ship, the French captain’s slurs, Gabriel simpering about Jeff the Accountant’s dining manners. I’m not shedding any tears for their respective fates, but none of them made me want to crawl through the screen and sew all their face holes shut. Because Jack isn’t just passive-aggressive (and aggressive-aggressive), he might just be the most savvy reader-of-rooms we see on the show, and purposefully and systematically leverages his passive aggression to manipulate the actions of those around him for the purpose of making Ed and Stede betray their better selves and make them do the work of driving a wedge between themselves. That was a lot in one sentence. Let me break it down.

Jack uses passive aggression to achieve one of four goals: to nettle, to undermine, (seemingly paradoxically) to reinforce connections, or to coerce. And, if he can manage to achieve different goals for more than one target with the same attack? So much the better. And he’s frankly just astonishingly good at doing so. Like, I’d admire him for it if it didn’t also make me want to make him swallow all of his own teeth.

The basic gameplan goes thusly (this is not a strictly chronological list, a lot of these tactics take place concurrently and recurrently): Stede is the primary target, so Jack nettles him with passive aggressive comments, which puts him on the back foot and undermines his self-confidence. He reinforces his relationship with Ed in ways that excludes Stede and undermines Stede’s relationship with Ed and Ed’s relationship with Stede. Jack uses coercive tactics with Ed and the crew, which undermines Stede’s relationships with them, isolating and othering Stede, which further tanks his mood, which leads him to self-isolate. When Stede eventually lashes out at Ed for falling for Jack’s bullshit, Ed has no idea what’s got Stede so out-of-sorts; Jack has so carefully lead Ed to making the choices that have alienated Stede that they seem like they were Ed’s ideas in the first place. And if Ed has made the choices to do these things, then they are clearly just a reflection of who he is, which, if Stede is lashing out against them, then Stede is rejecting him. Wedge set and match.

So let’s look at the specifics.

Jack’s interactions with Ed are like a masterclass in neurolinguistic programming for evil. First, he plys Ed with booze from the very start. Just look at the bottle in this shot from right after they blow up the dresser drawer.

That bottle or rum is over half gone, and the sky in the background is the peachy-pink of sunrise. This isn’t the bottle Jack had with him in his dinghy; that one he drained and then threw in the air and tried to shoot before coming aboard the Revenge. Which means that they’ve consumed over half the bottle between just the two of them in a very short amount of time. Alcohol, of course, is a social lubricant - the physical warmth it produces mimicking the “warm, fuzzy” feeling of true comradery, and, more importantly, decoupling the decision-making process from inhibition (that is to say, Ed isn’t necessarily doing anything he absolutely wouldn’t otherwise do, but he might otherwise think twice).

But it’s more insidious than just having a few drinks with an old friend. Jack specifically gamifies the consumption of alcohol to reinforce the coupling of the feeling of inebriation with the comradery engendered by teamwork and excitement of success in order to encourage Ed to drink more than he necessarily otherwise would. Ed confirms to Stede during his apology that the idea to use the drawers of the armoire for target practice came from Jack, and we saw that a bullseye meant that Jack had to take a drink, but Ed didn’t. Presumably, there would have been some consequence for a “miss”, and it seems likely that it would be Ed has to take a drink and not Jack. In this way, Jack is able to exert a measure of control over how much Ed is drinking (by missing on purpose) while making it look like the responsibility lies with Ed and his skill as a thrower. This pattern of sneakily controlling Ed’s actions while making it seem like Ed is the one who made or is responsible for the decision will pop up again and again during their interactions.

After the apologies for waking Stede, Jack steps into the space where Ed is gesticulating to make himself readily available to be touched, reenforcing the bond between them, but letting Ed be the one to instigate the touching.

At brekkie, he pours rum into Ed’s teacup without asking or being asked while Ed’s attention is diverted by getting food.

Jack’s collaring of the conversation does not just function as a means of making Stede feel excluded, he’s also refreshing and reinforcing the bonds he and Ed forged under adversity. Talking over Stede also demonstrates that what he has to say is more important than anything Stede might contribute.

Note that just before Jack cut him off, Stede had referred to Ed as Blackbeard (“Blackbeard and I met on a ship”). This may be innocently explained away; if you meet a person from a facet of a close friend’s life with which you do not intersect, you might refer to said friend by their given name instead of a nickname that the other person might not know, for the sake of common frame of reference. But this is the opposite of that - referring to a friend by a nickname instead of the given name that you both presumably know. That suggests to me that the seed of the Ed/Blackbeard dichotomy has already been planted in Stede’s mind by the morning’s shenanigans. And when Jack invites Stede back into participating in the conversation by talking about something he knows Stede would find upsetting (the wanton cruelty of Ed purposefully trapping people to be burned alive, couched in what sounds like sincere admiration for his friend’s piratical prowess), Jack has picked up on that distinction and is leaning into it HARD. He WANTS Stede to see Ed as a collection of behaviors he finds palatable, and Blackbeard as a collection of behaviors he finds repulsive, and then coerce Ed into performing those “Blackbeard behaviors” in order to coerce Stede to drive the wedge by rejecting him. Fucking diabolical.

When Jack is calling Stede a “big girl,” or “store-bought,” or purposefully getting his name wrong, he’s not just throwing barbs that play on Stede’s insecurities (and with such harrowing precision, too; calling on the effeminacy for which he was tormented as a child, his body image issues that we’ve also seen him struggle with under the tender mercies of Badminton - both brain-ghost and original flavor - and the authenticity of his claim to piracy, which we’ve seen him confess that he fears he’s ill-qualified to claim to Jim, Oluande, and Ed. I mean,triple bullseye for this fucking guy). He’s also using these public declarations to undermine Stede’s authority in front of his crew, and establish himself as the real authority on things like piracy and masculinity. He further reinforces this idea by withholding the story of how he saved Ed’s life under the guise of false modesty; people never want something more than when they’re told they can’t have it. And what they’re being told they can’t have is the story of how Jack was so amazing that he even managed to save the life of the coolest, most legendary pirate they know. This withholding primes the crew to think even more highly of Jack and hang on his every word.

This puts Jack into a position where he can pressure the crew into things that sound fun at first blush (like diving off the yardarm or having a snowball fight, but with coconuts), but end up hurting more than anything. Of course, within this dynamic, no one wants to admit they aren’t having a good time, or don’t want to do it; to do so would be tantamount to admitting you are less of a man or not a real pirate. So when Stede refuses to participate, or admits his discomfort or disgust with the proceedings, he’s doing Jack’s work for him, and further alienating himself, and solidifying the roles Jack had put into place where Jack is the fun, cool guy, and Stede is the killjoy that no one should listen to.

Stede unwittingly plays right into Jack’s design when he tries to stand up for himself and wrest back a modicum of respect before things get too far out of hand. He’s well-versed in the world of passive aggression, and sees what Jack is doing. He also knows that you can’t call it out because passive aggression comes with a built in cover of plausible deniability gaslighting. So instead, he tries to push back with a little passive aggression of his own, suggesting that a real pirate has a ship and a crew. Sadly, Stede is not nearly so adroit at wielding passive aggression as Jack is. Jack uses the story (and we know that Izzy sent him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole mutiny thing is just a story; I could even easily read that slight hesitation after Stede asks his question as Jack deciding on what would be the most effective cover story, instead of hesitancy to admit to something shameful) of his crew’s mutiny to casually re-sow the idea of mutiny on the Revenge. It’s played for comedy when the crew starts talking about how they almost mutinied on Stede and probably will again, but you can’t tell me this hasn’t been a major concern for Stede ever since the first episode. So Jack’s not only got the crew trying to buoy his spirits by assuring him that his crew mutinying on his doesn’t mean he’s a bad person; it’s just something that happens! He’s also got them low-key committing to a future mutiny WITHIN EARSHOT OF STEDE.

Additionally, while Stede is well-steeped in the ways of passive aggression, his crew and Ed are not. They are not particularly sophisticated at identifying passive aggression on its own merits as opposed to the reaction it provokes, which can make it look like they don’t care when it’s being leveraged against Stede, undermining his ability to trust they will look out for him. Stede stoically putting up with Jack’s jibes makes them even more difficult to identify as hurtful. Jack’s (fake) emotional reaction to Stede’s sally might make him look momentarily weak, but allows Ed and the crew to unequivocally identify who is in the wrong and react accordingly. By positioning himself as a victim, he villainizes Stede, further undermining Stede’s authority, and placing him in a position where he owes Jack recompense. Thus, Jack is able to manipulate Stede into the trap of Dead Man’s Cove and make it look like it was Stede’s own idea. I mean, the Xanatos Speed Chess of it all.

What’s heartbreaking to me is how Jack’s wedge-driving and othering of Stede is working so well that at this point we start to hear it from other sources. As they approach the island and Stede suggests going for a swim or taking a nature walk, Ed is the one who tells him, “I think with this crowd, I think they want something a little more…” Not Jack would want something more exciting, this crowd. Jack’s exclusionary rhetoric out of Ed’s mouth.

Which is exactly the time Jack decides to up the ante.

I want to take a minute to look at the immediate lead up to yardies, because I think it’s an excellent illustration of how Jack looks like a lumbering boor, but his actions are actually so carefully considered and nuanced. He runs up from behind Stede and Ed and throws his arms around them shouting “Yardies!” literally insinuating himself between them, which interrupts anything that was going on between them, puts them off balance, and focuses the attention on him. Then, when he says “Who’s up for yardies?” he makes eye-contact with Ed - the implicit social expectation being “You, Ed, are up for yardies.” When he turns to Stede, it is to literally laugh in his face. I mean, the absolute cheek.

Until this point, the crew of the Revenge have been passive participants in Jack’s hooliganry. They watched him perform whippies, and got whipped at without encouraging him to do so. They listened to his and Ed’s stories. But now Jack is cashing in on his established expertise of what real pirates do to coerce the crew into taking part in a dangerous stunt. It’s more of the “Blackbeard behavior” dichotomy he started sowing in Stede’s mind at brekkie, but now he’s extending it beyond Ed to the whole crew. He wants Stede to feel like he’s all alone in a sea of idiocy, but he wants him to come to the conclusion on his own by making it seem like Ed and the crew are doing things of which he would disapprove of their own accord.

Once we get to the island, we see the activities take a turn from the careless Jackass-ery of whippies and yardies to the abject cruelty of turtle vs. crab. There’s no saying that Jack organized the fight, but we do see the crew handing him various trinkets to be used in gambling on a winner, which certainly suggests he was the central figure in how the game was established. We also see that, though he has been presenting himself as a drunkard, there’s no bottle in his hand or around him in the sand. There is, however, one in Ed’s hand, who is directly to his side. I can easily see him handing it off so he could handle the gambling stakes, the real intention being to keep Ed readily supplied with booze.

And then we have the pissing contest. Jack’s got Stede literally and metaphorically isolated, and now it’s time to really drive it all home. Every moment of their interaction is designed to drive Stede to distraction; the amount of derision he lays on the phrase “Your good, close buddy,” the insinuation that he and Ed are just alike, and then being as rude and crass as possible. And because he’s read the room - the intimate breakfast for two, Ed’s little touches and the way Stede smiles at them, the way they keep going off together for little chats - of course Jack’s just got to twist the knife and allude to his and Ed’s former sexual history. So now that he’s got Stede primed, it’s time to name the fear: “Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

At this point, Stede is left to wonder: does he? Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him, after all. And he’s been acting so differently since the appearance of one of his oldest friends. It’s not the violence qua violence, per se; Stede is by turns delighted and impressed by the violence he’s seen Ed and his crew employ in the heat of battle in the pursuit of piracy. It’s the cruel and senseless violence that Stede objects to, and that’s exactly the brand that Jack has been peddling, and which Ed has gone along with so enthusiastically. And it’s not JUST the violence; Ed apologizes for Jack when he recognizes Jack has crossed a line in a typically agro way (destroying Stede’s belongings, and insulting Stede to his face), but it never occurs to Stede that his insistence on persevering with quietly aggrieved dignity in the face of Jack’s slights would make it nigh impossible for Ed to identify that Jack has crossed all sorts of other lines, and Stede is hurting because of it. For Stede, it must be frustrating and mystifying why Ed keeps letting his friend get away with his passive aggressive bullshit. Doesn’t he care?

Is it any wonder that one more failure to notice how Jack has riled him, and one more act of coconut-flavored Jackass-ary is enough to break the dam, and for Stede to spill all that built-up hurt on Ed? Is it any wonder that Ed is bewildered at where all this is coming from? I’ve talked before about Ed’s tendency to fawn on people, and how, as an emotional chameleon, he would have difficulty identifying when the motivation for his actions is self-directed or externally dictated. Jack has further confounded this distinction by manipulating scenarios to make it seem like participation in all the Jackass-ary he has instigated was voluntary instead of coerced. When Stede says “I don’t like who you are around this guy” what he means is “I don’t like how this guy is able to manipulate you into acting on your very worst impulses”, but what Ed hears is “I don’t like you”. For who is he, if not the collection of behaviors he chooses to exhibit? And were those choices not entirely his to make? With the rift clearly established, if in its infancy, of course Jack is going to do everything he can to foster its growth. So again, he interrupts Stede, again implicitly signaling that Ed should pay attention to what he says and not Stede. By lobbing the coconut at Ed at that moment, he forestalls any possible clearing of the air between Ed and Stede, and causes Ed to literally turn his back on Stede, in the way Ed feels Stede has emotionally turned his back on him just moments earlier. Jack reinforces this idea of turning his back on Stede again moments later when he says “Don’t go!” and immediately turns Ed around by the shoulders.

I know that I’ve been laying it on a bit thick and prolly sound like the written embodiment of the red string conspiracy meme, but I’m about to get a whole lot worse, and I’m going to ask you to stick with me, oh my v. dears. I think Jack killed Karl on purpose.

I know, I know. It was an accident! He was flailing drunkenly! But was he?

Have we seen him take so much as a single drink since the cannon fire at the beginning of the episode? Even though he’d been drinking earlier, did he not have devastating precision and accuracy when he first demonstrated Whippies - shattering every glass, snapping the cards from the Swede’s fingers, and ball-tapping Ed without permanently maiming him or even splitting the leather of his pants? In fact, while nearly every other crew member on the deck has a bottle in hand, just like on the beach, Jack does not.

Jack knows he has to get Ed off the ship before the British show up, but he can’t just say “Let’s ditch these losers” and expect Ed to agree, especially since he’s spent most of the day roping the crew into his schemes. The most effective way to get Ed to follow is if Jack is rejected for just being himself and doing what he does, just like Ed feels he was earlier by Stede. I think the original plan was to goad Olu into seriously hurting the Swede, the fallout of which would be recriminations that Jack made them do it, and Jack getting aggrieved that he was just trying to show this ungrateful lot how to have a good time, skulking off and leading Ed to follow him and reassure him that he’s really a good guy - how could he have known it would turn out like that? But when Buttons calls a halt to the proceedings and it looks like everyone is going to pack it in, Jack has to think fast. If HE maims a crew mate, that would be a bridge too far, painting him as the bad guy. But Karl? He’s just a bird. And if Jack can get a little revenge on the weird bird guy who made him change his plan, so much the better. AND, as people with far fewer auditory processing issues than I have pointed out, Jack mutters that he expected there to be more feathers. Could the evidence be any more damning?

Of course the whole ship turns on him, and then here’s Stede to order him off, explicitly rejecting him the way he metaphorically rejected Ed. But when even that isn’t enough to get Ed to follow him, Jack pulls out one last, desperate manipulation - the debt of life.

Jack’s tragic flaw is that he can’t turn it off. Once he and Ed are alone, he turns his passive aggressive assault on Ed, pressuring him into drinking the morning away by sarcastically saying he didn’t know he had an audience with the pope when Ed expresses disinterest, and, ultimately, giving up the game when he mentions with casual derision how he’d heard of Ed shaking up with Stede, and then deriding Ed for his failure to spot Jack’s machinations.

Too bad Jack didn’t know that the punishment for passive-aggressive fuckery on this show is death…

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #calico jack

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annab-nana · 4 months

Note

Hi Anna, I hope I am not too late to request “I wish we could live together already.” prompt with Tom Holland ;)

omg yes, here you go angel :)

warnings: not proofread, use of pet names (darling)

❀ masterlist ❀

"thank you for coming," tom whispered into the darkness that surrounded you two. "you have no idea how much i was missing you. sam thought i might go crazy when he came a couple of weeks ago."

your smile widened against the fabric of his shirt as you snuggled further into his chest.

"honestly, so was i, but it's only three more weeks after i leave, right?"

"supposed to be, yeah." the way he said that made you think it could possibly be a bit longer so you didn't press the subject.

being in his arms made you realize just how much you'd longed to be there since he left for filming. he started nearly five months ago. he visited you after the first month when his schedule cleared a little bit. you'd planned to come to him a few weeks after his visit, but the week leading up to it, two people in your department at work quit with no warning, leaving you with all the work to do by yourself.

you were devastated that you couldn't see tom, but he assured you that it was alright. he was too busy with filming anyway, so there wouldn't have been a lot of time spent together. you got a good pay raise out of it so that was a plus. it took them a while to find replacements and when they did, you had to do a lot to help train them, but now, you could finally take a bit of a break.

you squeezed your arms tighter around him and tried to be even closer to him though it was almost impossible. "i missed you so much. i wish i could be with you all the time."

tom smiled and pressed a kiss to your head. "me too, darling."

after a good bout of silence of just you and tom lying together in his bed, tom muttered the words, "i wish we could live together already."

he thought you were already asleep, if not close to it, so when you lifted your head to look at him, you heard his small but quick intake of breath.

"why can't we?" you suggested.

"i-" he paused to ponder it. "i don't know. i just figured with me traveling so much, it wouldn't make a lot of sense and you already live so close to your job. it's logical you'd want to stay there and i don't want to pull you from there, but i want to stay living near my family and-"

"tom?" you called, pausing his speech so you could speak. "yes, you travel a lot, but after each trip, you'd be coming home to me. yeah, my job is close to where i work, but i don't mind a longer commute or even looking for another job if that means i get to live with you. and i love your family, so being close to them would be good for me too. tom, i love you and you are my home, so if you're serious about living together, then i am too."

though it was difficult to see in the dark, his smile was always hard to miss. "have i mentioned how much i love you?"

you giggled before pressing your lips to his in a quick peck. "you may have mentioned it once or twice."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new or join the tag list here!

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurbs #blurbs #anon #❀ nonnie ❀#winter wonderland sleepover ✧*:･ﾟ

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acourtofthought · 6 months

Text

How It All Comes Together

(contains spoilers for all series)

I have so many posts at this point. So. Many. Posts 😂 And they all touch upon a lot of the same information but I wanted to put every headcannon I've got in one place in the order of events (though the order of events within each book is flexible) that I think could happen.

I have no idea if any or even one will turn out to be accurate but when I combine her interviews, books, and Q&A sessions together, this is how the information seems to best fit together and makes sense to me.

Starting with an Elucien book:

"Let's focus on healing one sister then the other."

Elucien will restore spring together -

My father would think twice before standing against an army of superior strength and size.

"But Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he's barely improved this past year" "With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court's forces"

"No. But we need to summon Lucien," Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn't like it one bit. "We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears."

"I am the first one the others look to - I set the example"

Her sister's delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring"

But Elain...The Spring Court had been made for someone like her. / Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place. And too bad the lord who ruled these lands was a piece of shit.

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she'd placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess - perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn't let herself dwell on why she'd felt the need to set the rose there.

"She pulled the small, carved rose from her pocket and set it upon the gravestone. A permanent marker of the beauty and good he'd tried to bring into the world."

Elain and Lucien will perform in Calanmai aka Fire Night together -

"There's a ritual. But it's...very faerie." / "From their coupling, magic will be released and spread to the earth, where it will regenerate life for the year to come."

It was Spring, and yet it wasn't. / Distant - because on the estate, nothing bloomed at all. / The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. / The Spring Court had felt stagnant. Hollow. Empty ..

"It's his (her) instincts that select her (him)."

"I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court."

I shook my head, trying not to imagine Elain subject to that....fire.

Elain would faint to hear such thoughts.

Elain will be able to shift into an owl (shifting being a marker of the Spring Court) -

"Your Tamlin has brute strength and shape-shifting"

"And once you were in this body, you couldn't change?"

Elain was again at my side, I hadn't heard her steps.

Elain perched silently on the couch nearby.

Elain cocked her head.

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her.

"You came," Elain said behind her and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth - Teller to the hilt through the back of the king's neck. (How did she make it to Nesta in time when she was in the far reaches of their camp?

"Glamour for what?" "To look normal." "Being a High Lord, comes with physical markers too. It's why I couldn't hide what I was becoming from my brohters - from anyone. It's still easier to blend it." / "I think she's got you beat for secret-keeping"

Elain, Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian will find a way to get those on the continent to sign the treaty -

We need the humans in others territories to trust us, if we can ever hope to achieve lasting peace.

"He's spent months helping them sort out the politics of who rules Prythian's slice of the human lands."

"He'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people"

"My sister can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles."

"She (Mor) was still trying to convince them to sign the new treaty."

"I hope that whatever Morrigan is doing in Vallahan will counteract the damage my father will unleash."

"At worst, we'll have proof to justify any conflict and hopefully win allies to our side, avoiding the bloodshed that would carve up these lands once more.

"Jurian..." "Thank the Cauldron for him. I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. "He's keeping everything running. I think he'd have been crowned king by now if it wasn't for Vassa."

Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long.

"And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?

"She didn't used to be that way." "She loved balls and parties."

but Elain had taken charge of planning

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away. With the spring approaching, they’ll be glad to go home. And if Feyre needs to be in and out for meetings, she’ll send word ahead, and we’ll clear them out. Make up excuses to send them on holidays. Father won’t be back until the summer, anyway. No one will know.”. / “I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

Eris will join Elain and Lucien on the continent, not only to free Vassa and stop Koschei / Beron but to retrieve Mor and for their past to finally be dealt with (their past being a possible mating bond between them which is why he set her free)-

"My father is furious that his ally is dead, but he's not deterred. Koschei remains in play, and Beron might very well be stupid enough to establish an alliance with him, too."

"I wanted to feel out Vassa and Jurian." He didn't mention his brother, oddly enough. "But they clearly know little about this."

But as Eris strode by...I could have sworn there was something like sadness - like regret, as he glanced to Lucien.

But Vassa's freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago, and still visited her often enough that I knew nothing in that regard had improved. She would have to return to the lake, to the sorcerer-lord who kept her prisoner, sold to him by the very queens who had again gathered in their joint castle. Formerly Vassa's castle too.

"Tell my Vassa I'm waiting"

"Lucien stared out the window - as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target."

"But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?"

"Mor left for Vallahan this morning and is out of our daemati magic's range."

"She knows the truth but has never revealed it" "Why?" "Because she's afraid of it."

"You're not the person I want to explain myself to." "I doubt Mor will want to listen." (as for a Mor love interest, I think Emerie could be a possibility but I also think the Golden Queen is another option. As her hair and eyes were taken, there's a chance she was made into something new and Elain said "she's not dead, only changed as I was". I don't think she's talking about Vassa. There's also a line where Mor claim she's always be drawn to things that were wild and free)

I think Elain will be the one to break Vassa's curse which I don't think is a curse at all but a Valg infection. If she can heal as Yrene did than we know a healers light can banish the infection from someone's blood. (I have a longer post on this but this is the Cliffs Notes version) -

I'd never seen such spell work. I'd sent my power over her, Helion too, hunting for any possible threats to unbind it. I found none. It was if the curse was woven into her very blood.

"Black fire raced down his blood" (Chaols Valg infection)

"Will many of these soldiers die?"

Amren was holding Elain upright as she vomited in the grass. Not from the Caldron. But pure terror.

Elain rushed to Cassian. / Nesta was watching them when I reached her and Elain at the tree-lined outskirts. Had she done some healing, somehow, in those moments after she'd severed the king's head? / I didn't ask my sister, and she supplied no answer as she took the water bucket dangling from Elain's still bloody hands.

I think Lucien and Eris will finally kill Beron -

"Beron tortured you?"

Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him.

"The same things he does now." "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them."

"I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch."

The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him? Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

And Cassian didn't need to be a courtier to know his next words would slice deep, but it would be a necessary wound. Perhaps it would be enough to push things in the right direction. "I think you might be a decent male, deep down, trapped in a terrible situation." "I think you might even be a good male." "You're just too much of a coward to act like one."

Lucien will finally discover Helion is his father -

But not the gift of Helion. His true father. I still hadn't mentioned it. To anyone other than Rhys.

In the taut silence, Helion nodded to the bright hall beyond the room. "I would like to remove myself from the Mask's odious presence, and perhaps enjoy your palace, Rhysand. It's been a long while since I was in a place of such quiet. If you'll allow it, I'll stay here for an hour or two." "Something bothering you at home?" Rhys inquired, falling into step beside the High Lord.

I think Elain, if she has healing powers (not to mention her affinity for growing things), will be the one to help the Pegasus. This would provide her a purpose in Day and even connects her to the land where the Prison is located) -

Helion's most beloved pair - this black stallion, Meallan, and his mate - hadn't produced offspring in three hundred years, and that last foal hadn't made it out of weaning before he'd succumbed to an illness no healer could remedy.

According to legend, the pegasuses had come from the island the Prison sat upon - had once fed in fair meadows that had long given way to moss and mist. Perhaps that was part of the decline: their homeland had vanished, and whatever had sustained them was no longer.

She found flowers - somewhere.

It's possible that if she does travel to the Prison, she'll also find where Koschei's box is located (possibly the box that possesses his soul) -

"There is an onyx box that he possesses, more vital than anything...save for them. The girls."

"Maybe...." "Part of me wonders if the Prison was either built or stocked with it's inmates to hide the Harp's (onyx box?) presence. There are so many terrible powers here, and the wards on the mountain itself. I wonder if someone hid the Harp (onyx box?) knowing that it'd never be noticed with so much awful magic around it."

"These are like no wards I've felt before." "They feel old. Incredibly old." "They probably predate this place being used as a prison (remember, we learn that the courts were not actually formed until after the Prison was made).

"But Koschei is as old as the sea - older." "I fear what may happen if he ever gets free of the lake. If he sees this world on the cusp of disaster and knows he could strike, and strike hard, and make himself it's master. As he once tried to do, (hint that Koschei is Asteri / possible Valg?) long ago." "Those are legends that predate our courts."

Lucien will help infiltrate the castle where the other Queens had been staying. Not only did the castle once belong to Vassa but if Koschei's soul is not hidden in the prison, maybe it's hidden there -

"I told you; their castle is too heavily warded, and full of magical traps that would trip up even Helion."

I do think it's possible that Koschei will be defeated in an Elucien book and I think it's possible Lucien's fire will fail him in that scene causing him to tap into his Day powers in full -

"I was getting worried you'd never approach. Poor Eris would have met a very sorry end if that had been the case. His fire wouldn't have withstood Koschei's lake, I don't think."

Maybe Lucien will also be the one to help Rhys and Feyre undo the bargain that links their lives to one another -

"Perhaps Amren was working on some way to undo the bargain - if anyone could think of a way, it would be her. Or Helion, he supposed.

I believe Eris will step into power as High Lord of Autumn by the end of an Elucien book. I also wonder if when they think everything has calmed in the rest of Prythian and the continent, they'll visit Feyre and Rhys only to be informed of Bryce having landed in Velaris (and her subsequent return to Midgard). This will set up the either the final spin-off (not sure if SJM still plans on having the third spin-off set in the past which she mentioned as a possibility in interviews) or the next round of ACOTAR books, some from the ones she was contracted for in her latest 4 book deal. -

A Gwynriel book would then follow -

I think Az's story will first tackle his past with Mor. If she is ready to admit to the truths Eris spoke of in SF in an Elucien book then she'll finally be in a place to have the conversation she needs to with Az -

"What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question.

I think the majority of his arc will deal with his hatred of the Illyrians, and now their issues with the Valkyries, possibly ending with Rhys leaving him charge of overseeing them in a more permanent position -

Perhaps we needed a permanent presence out here, until the Illyrians remembered things like consequences. / But the war had impacted us all, and with the rebuilding, with the human territories crawling out to meet us, with other Fae kingdoms looking toward a wall-less world and wondering what shit they could get away with...We didn't have the resources to station somewhere out here. Not yet. Perhaps next summer, if the climate elsewhere was calm enough.

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly.

It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.

Az might hunt down Bryaxis who I believe is the thing that guarded a portal to Hel that exists in the library. I think we'll see Bryce enter the portal in CC3 or Aidas exit it and they'll realize they need to close it back up -

"Do you want me to hunt it down?" An easy, unruffled question. "Let Bryaxis enjoy the Solstice as well," I said. A rare smile curled Az's mouth. "Generous of you."

"No, but..." Gwyn's swallow was audible. "I can feel something. Like a cat. Small and clever and curious. It's watching.

And then there was this. Not only the true absence of light, but...a womb. The womb from which all life and come and would return, neither good nor evil, only dark, dark, dark. Nesta. Her name drifted to her as if rising from the depths of some black ocean. Nesta. It slid along her bones, her blood. She had to pull back. Pull away. The darkness pulsed, beckoned.

"The House is good." Nesta breathed. "Is it?" Nesta considered. "The darkness in the pit of the library - it's the heart of the House." Amren nodded. "And where is it now?" "It hasn't made an appearance in weeks. But it's still there. I think it's just...being managed. Maybe the House's knowledge that I'm aware of it, and didn't judge it, makes it easier to keep in check."

I think Gwyn may be a cousin of Eris's (maybe Lucien) which will cause conflict between she and Az as he'll struggle to let go of his prejudices toward Eris (and Lucien) while she will want to build a relationship with the only blood family she has left -

"My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court."

Gwyn will have siren powers that she can use to do her bidding against enemies -

Something beckoned in Gwyn's song, in a way the other's hadn't.

Gwyn's voice rose again, holding such a high note it was like a ray of pure light, piercing and summoning.

Like Gwyn was calling only to her.

"I barely outran that one as I led it toward the camp. My timing was just good luck, though."

Gwyn will pull both Narben and the miniature manuscript from the sea. Seeing as how the book is one of the first printed books in existence, I think it will contain information that will be necessary for future threats to their world -

She would have kept it secret. I only heard from a fleeing water-nymph that it had been done."

"When it would not bend to her, she destroyed it." "It was perhaps in our favor. Had the King of Hybern possessed Narben, I fear we would have lost the war."

A miniature illuminated manuscript, crafted by the skilled hands of the smallest of the lesser Fae- one of the first printed books in existence. / He regretted throwing it into the river the moment it had vanished under the ice, but he'd been foolish that night.

I think Gwyn's song may also be able to draw Azriel back, in the chance he has a different form and maybe that's what he meant when he made the comment that he sings. That he too needs to sing in order to pull himself from his "beast" side -

"Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning.

I think you'll find that Az is even less forgiving than I am." "With that pretty face?" she crooned. "I have a hard time believing it."

"They were shape-shifters who dwelled in the lakes and rivers and lured unwitting people into their arms. And after the drowned them, they feasted." Nesta stared toward the bog's black surface. "And they live in there?" "They vanished hundreds of years before we were born," Cassian said firmly. They're a myth whispered around fires, and a warning for children not to play near the water. But no one knows where they went. Most were hunted, but the survivors..." He conceded with a nod to Azriel. / "Just don't go running after a beautiful white horse or a pretty-faced young man and you'll be fine."

I think Merrill will be the main villain in Gwynriels story. That we'll find she had been in contact with Koschei before his defeat and gone searching for other survivors in other worlds at his command. She'll be the one responsible for helping them enter their world -

"There are others in your court as delusional as you are. They'll get it for me one way or another, with the right incentive. Granted, I'll need your blood to unlock the wards on the Trove."

"But know that Briallyn and the others sold me to him not through their devices, but his. By words he planted in their courts, whispered on the winds."

"I am descended from Labath, Lord of the Western Wind," Merrill seethed. "Unlike Gwyneth Berdara, I am no lackey to be dismissed."

"Midgard is a base. We opened the doors to other worlds to lure their citizens here." "But we also opened the doors so we might conquer those other worlds as well." "Your Starborn ancestors shut the gates to stop us from invading their realm once more and reminding them who their true masters are. And in the process, they shut the gates to all other worlds, including those to Hel, their stalwart allies. And so we have been trapped here. Cut off from the cosmos. All that is left of our people, though our mystics beneath this palace have long sought to find any other survivors, any planets where they might be hiding."

"Merrill's brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. When she first came here, she was obsessed with theories regarding the existence of different realms - different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it. Whether there is merely one existence, our existence, or if it might be possible for worlds to overlap, occupying the same space but separated by time and a whole bunch of other things I can't even begin to explain to you because I barely understand them myself." "Honestly, I looked at some of her early research and my eyes bled just reading her theorizing and formulas."

so she supposed that two would take them perhaps a bit farther than that, and Velaris … Well, it seemed like it’d take three strings. She didn’t want to know where all twenty-six strings might take her if strummed. Or if someone made a melody..

I think part of a Gwynriel plot will be Az and Gwyn working together to try to understand what Merrill is actually researching -

- and in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it. and some other fancy thins that had been explained to Cassian once before he deemed them boring and proceeded to ignore them completely. Az, of course, had been fascinated.

Gwyn let out a breathy laugh. “I mean it. I learned about a new Valkyrie technique last night.

“I don’t know,” Gwyn said. “All I know is that I was assigned to work with Merrill and aid in her research,

By the end of a Gwynriel book, I think we'll be set up for a Multi POV / Crossover Series book(s) in the ACOTAR world. Possible plotlines -

Nesta will raise an army of the dead / World Walk -

And one day, when the time was right...They'd take the next steps. They'd walk down whatever road lay ahead of them together.

The Harp sighed, a low purr rolling off it as Nesta’s hand neared. We shall open doors and pathways; we shall move through space and eons together.

He’d think of that another day. Along with the fact that she’d stopped Time with the Harp.

She could feel them around her. The dead. / Thousands and thousands of bodies. But she would not call thousands. Not yet.

I think Lucien will be High King, wielding Gwydion. Yes, I realize it called to Bryce but unless we find out Amren’s recollection of the High Priestess giving it to him was wrong, it seems it first belonged to Fionn and was taken by Theia. Made objects can have others do their bidding, therefore it could have wanted Bryce to be the one to take it home. We know Helion responded to the mask, a made object, therefore Lucien should theoretically be able to wield made objects too -

Rhys as High King: he could think of no other male he'd trust more. No other male who would be a fairer ruler than Rhys. / "But know that the Cauldron's benevolence will be extended to you only for so long before it is offered to another.

"Lucien's goodness"

"He is a good male"

"he'd already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people."

"Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before."

"But Lucien had learned to keep his cool".

Narben's powers had not been the holy, saviors light of Gwydion" (Side note, SJM tagged Elain under the Blodeuwedd fairytale and the uncle of Lleu (Lleu being the character that seems to match Lucien's part in the tale) was named Gwydion. Gwydion means "born of trees" and in ACOWAR, SJM tells us Lucien looked "crafted from the forest")

SJM once spoke of us seeing more babies in the ACOTAR world and I think this will refer to Elain in any future crossovers (not CC3) -

"But Elain had given it back - had pressed it into Azriel's hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back."

I think Elain's war days are over and a pregnancy would provide her a valid reason to sit out of battle. If she does have healing powers then I imagine she'd much rather tend to the wounded.

I also believe that by this time, the food that sustained the Pegasus would be restored and the illness preventing them from having foals would be cured (a possible Elain storyline), making it possible for the Valkyrie to ride into battle on Pegasus.

The End 😂

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autumnshighlady · 13 days

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All I Gave You Is Gone (ACOTAR x The Silmarillion AU) - Chapter 2

RHYSAND'S SISTER X MAEDHROS

summary: we're back in Prythian with an Azriel pov as the aftermath of the attack is revealed

warnings: violence, angst

word count: 4k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a short chapter, i was going to add a Ravenna pov but given the recent shitstorms in my life I'm just posting what I've had in my drafts. It's not my best but i hope you enjoy nonetheless

Azriel’s shadows were incessant, swirling up his arms and whispering in his ears. Ravenna, they echoed urgently, only for his scarred hand to shoo them away. Annoyance prickled through the shadowsinger as he tried to focus on what Cassian and Rhys were saying. The three of them were lounging in the spacious living room by the fireplace in Rhysand’s family residence in the Hewn City, exhausted after a day of dealing with learning the art of politics. They were on their third bottle of wine, but it did nothing to ease Azriel. For his shadows continued to whisper Ravenna’s name, no matter what he did. They said nothing else, no indicator of what they wanted him to do. Only her name, frantic and insistent.

He cursed under his breath as another shadow flicked his ear, urging him to listen. The shadows had always favoured Ravenna, insisting he go to her after every fight – something which had increased lately. Frustrated, the shadow slithered back down his arm, ducking back behind his hands.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, noticing Azriel’s distraction. “What do they want?” He asked lightly, taking another sip of rich red wine from his goblet.

Azriel sighed, rubbing his face with his scarred hands. “For me to go to Ravenna, I believe.”

“Did you two have another fight?” Cassian asked, kicking his feet up on the opposite end of the sofa he was laying on.

Azriel kept his tone as neutral as possible. “You could say that, yes.” He found it difficult to talk about his relationship with Ravenna when Rhysand was around. The last thing he wanted to do was put him in an awkward position where he’d have to choose between his sister and his friend. Keeping his life private was something Azriel prided himself on until recently. These last few weeks, it was getting harder and harder.

“What happened?” Rhys asked, concern lacing his voice.

For a moment, Azriel contemplated changing the subject. But his shadows incessantly whispered Ravenna’s name with increased volume. Maybe talking about her would shut them up a bit. “We fought about work for the fifth time this month,” He said, wings slumping slightly in his chair. “She thinks I’m not focused enough on her, and what I am focused on with work is on the wrong things. We argued about Illyria and the Hewn City again.”

“Cauldron above,” Cassian grumbled. “How many times have you had this exact argument?”

“Too many.” Azriel said bitterly, annoyance rising as the memories of yesterday’s argument came rushing back. “Every time I try to explain to her that the High fae are slow to change, the Illyrians even more so, she gets mad and just says we aren’t trying hard enough. That if she were in charge, shit would get done. Doesn’t matter how many times I explain that the Illyrians won’t accept change, she’s too stubborn.”

“Well, talking down to her certainly won’t help.” Rhys said evenly, sighing. “I told you that only makes her more angry.”

Azriel threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what to do, Rhys. Nothing I say helps. The more your father makes her go to Illyria and the Hewn City, the angrier she gets that things are still the way they are.”

Rhys nodded in understanding, his violet eyes sympathetic. “She doesn’t understand that they have to remain that way in order for Velaris to be protected.”

More shadows curled wildly around Azriel, chanting Ravenna over and over again. He swore more loudly this time, shrugging them off angrily. Concern crossed Rhys’s face as he observed their franticness. “I’ve never seen them like this.” He said slowly.

“Neither have I.” Azriel responded, trying to squash the strange uneasiness he felt. His shadows, while having a mind of their own, typically never pushed him like this. And when they were insistent on something, they typically revealed more information than this. But all the shadows did was urgently whisper Ravenna’s name.

“Are you sure everything is ok with her?” Rhys asked.

The shadowsinger shrugged. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. She’s probably just angrier than usual because your father made her go to Illyria today with your mother. Pretty bad timing.”

“So are you two even together?” Cassian asked bluntly, heaving himself into an upright position to interrogate his friend. “The last few fights you’ve had, you said things were over. Then you fuck, make up, and get back together the next day. It’s like you’re caught in a fucking time loop. Are you really convinced she’s your mate if this is how things are?”

Azriel shot Cassian a death glare. “Watch it. The bond will snap, I know it. We just… we just need time to get over this rough patch first.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance, which made Azriel’s skin prickle with anger. Ravenna was his mate, he was sure of it. He loved her, and she loved him. All he could do was wait for the bond to snap into place, and all of this would be forgotten. Luckily, Cassain struck up a conversation about plans to visit the Summer Court in a few weeks, and the subject was changed much to Azriel’s relief.

When Ravenna got back from Illyria, he’d fix things. And all would return to normal.

****************

By the time the sun set, Azriel felt his sanity slipping. The shadows were relentless, their repetition of Ravenna’s name only increasing as the day went by. What little patience he had left was thinning with every snap at the shadows to leave him be. No matter how many times he sent them away, they came back. He lay in his large bed, wings spread out but tense with that unexplained anxiety.

Every creak from the hallway went detected by Azriel, expecting to hear Ravenna’s soft footsteps heading towards his room, ready to talk things over. But they never came, the hollowness in his chest only growing.

The angry things Ravenna said in their fight haunted him, and his own hurtful words he threw back at her plagued his mind, too. It was their ugliest fight by far, and the fact she hadn’t come to him yet made him wonder if things were truly over.

“Care to explain to me why every time I ask you or my brother to talk to my father about wing-clipping, you run away like a frightened dog?” Ravenna had asked him, sitting on the end of his bed with her arms crossed.

Azriel had rolled his eyes, pulling his sweaty shirt over his head. “I’m not doing this right now.” He had grumbled. His temper was short, having tried to set the mood for a pleasure-filled evening with Ravenna, only for her to stop him and demand he first answer why he had changed the subject earlier when she began discussing her plans to try and get her father to ban wing-clipping in Illyria and help the females in the Hewn City.

Ravenna had only gotten angrier. “Ok, tomorrow then? Or are you going to find some excuse then, too?”

“Heavens above, Ravenna!” Azriel had snapped, running a hand through his hair. It had been a long day, his patience waned thin. “It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to get your wings clipped or marry you off to some scumbag. So why does it matter so much?”

“If I have to explain it to you, then you’re just as dumb as those brutes in Illyria.” Ravenna had snapped. “I want to change things, and you will not stand by my side in it. Why? Do you really care that much about the opinions of people who will hate you regardless?”

Her words had hit their mark, and he flinched. “I know they hate me, I don’t need you reminding me. You know I love you, why do you need my support if you’ve just decided you’re going to do things your own way no matter what I say?”

Ravenna had fixed him with another angry glare, violet eyes stormy. “Because we are supposed to be partners, and you are supposed to back me up on this. Instead, you hide and run away every time I try to stand up for what I believe in because you’re too scared of my father and the people of the court’s opinions.”

“I am not scared!” Azriel had growled, slamming his drawer so hard that the glass atop the wood came crashing down onto the floor.

“Yes, you are.” Ravenna had pushed back. “You’re being a coward, Azriel. If my father suddenly ordered I had my wings clipped, you would fight him on it. Why can’t you do the same for the hundreds of females who don’t have a male to advocate for them?”

“Because they’re not you! I care about you, and the rest of Illyria can go to hell. I want to end wing-clipping, I really do. But it’s not possible, not without losing the entire army.”

Ravenna had scoffed. “That’s selfish, Az. I am no better than those other females. The only difference is you’re not fucking them, so they’re not worthy of being advocated for I guess. You can’t just pick and choose which females you want to fight for.”

Azriel had whirled around in shock, fists clenched as Ravenna met his angry gaze. “Is that really what you think? Do you really think that low of me, that I would only support the ban on clipping because I’m sleeping with an Illyrian female?” He demanded before letting out a harsh laugh. “I suppose that’s on track for a spoiled princess like you to look down upon a lowborn bastard like me.”

Ravenna had flinched, and Azriel knew his words had stung. Good. He had wanted them to. “Do NOT turn this into a pity party for your sad, pathetic childhood.” She growled. “Your daddy and brothers hurt you? Boo hoo. Get over it. Females in Illyria and the Hewn City go through exactly what you did, only you’re free of it now and seem to not give a damn about them.”

Azriel had rolled his eyes, a pounding headache coming on. “For the last time, I do care!” He had insisted. “I just don't think it’s possible to create a perfect world where we can properly ban that shit. Why can’t we just move on and let this subject rest?”

“Because we are partners and one’s attitude about such matters shows a lot about who they are.” Ravenna had stood up, glaring at the shadowsinger.

Azriel’s brows had furrowed. “What are you saying?”

The fiery female had lifted her chin to meet his gaze, violet eyes hard as she spoke with a coldness that sent his shadows running. “That I don’t want to waste my time with a coward who will not stand by my side during difficult battles simply because it’s more convenient for him to ignore all of those problems since they don’t directly affect him.”

For the first time in that argument, Azriel had been speechless. His mind had screamed at him, urging him to say something to avoid losing her. But he didn’t. All he could do was stare emptily as Ravenna scoffed, turning on her heel and storming out.

All of those last night talks, the sneaking around the last few years, the relief of finally telling Rhys about their secret… Perhaps it was all for nothing, and the sensation of Ravenna’s soft body curled into his own would grow to become a distant memory.

Azriel shook his head, refusing to believe it. No, this may have been their worst fight yet. But time would pass and it would be forgotten, surely. He would accept no other answer. Ravenna was his reason for existing, no matter what anyone said or thought.

But that niggling worry remained. Ravenna had been colder lately, more distant. Granted, Azriel was not much better. Their productive conversations had been few and far between, most of their arguments ending in angry sex without any further discussion. It had worked so far, he had thought. Ravenna’s fiery temper thawed the icy wall he built around his rage, letting his usually well kept temper rise and bubble over. She knew just how to push his buttons, where to strike the hardest.

Just as he did with her.

Guilt plagued him as he remembered the things he said. How the light in her violet eyes went out like someone had splashed water over a raging bonfire. The way her voice turned ice cold as she said she was done with Azriel before she turned away. Fuck, he’d have a lot of apologizing to do.

A faint knock sounded at the door, much to Azriel’s surprise. The shadows hadn’t reported any movement outside, and it was the middle of the night. He practically lept from the bed, flinging open the door to his chamber and expecting to see Ravenna.

Only it was not his lover in the hallway, but rather a sombre looking guard. His expression was grave beneath the metal helm, voice serious as he spoke. “The High Lord requests your presence in his study.” Was all he said before turning away and retreating back down the long corridor.

Confused, Azriel pulled his shirt on and followed, noting how his shadows had gone eerily silent. His meetings with Rhysand’s father were never this late, leaving him to wonder what Ronan was up to. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

The shadowsinger couldn’t sink the cold feeling that washed over him as he entered the High Lord’s study, where Rhys and Ronan already were. The High Lord was still in his regal night robes, his black hair aged with grey strands hanging loosely around his chiselled face, as if he hadn’t even run a hand through it yet. An animalistic rage simmered beneath his black eyes, and his knuckles were clenched as he gripped the back of the chair he stood behind.

Azriel bowed as he entered the room, but Ronan took no notice. He only stared at the desk in front of him, motionless. Shocked, Azriel looked at Rhys, who sat in one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Rhys only shrugged, confirming he, too, knew nothing about this late night meeting. Quietly, Azriel took the empty seat.

It felt like an eternity of cold silence before the High Lord finally raised his head, fixing each of them with a hard stare. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, do you understand me?” He said, his voice cutting through the tense air like a curved blade.

“Yes, my Lord.” Azriel said while Rhys nodded in agreement next to him.

Ronan’s black eyes were wild as he fought to calm himself. Azriel tried not to flinch as those hateful eyes landed on him specifically. “Not even your brutish friend finds out until I order it to be so, am I clear, boy?” He seethed. “The only reason you are even here is because this matter concerns my daughter, who you are currently courting.”

Azriel stiffened, his blood running cold. Panic began to rise in his chest, shadows gently stroking the scarred palm of his hand as if to soothe him. But he kept his expression neutral, merely nodding.

“There was an attack at the war-camp in the Eastern steppes,” The High Lord said through a hoarse voice, as if he had been screaming for hours. He turned to Rhysand. “The one I sent your mother and sister to.”

Beside him, Rhys went pale. It took every ounce of self control not to have Azriel’s expression falter as his heart raced. Blood rang in his ears, and the High Lord’s voice sounded as if he were speaking underwater. “There were no survivors,” He continued gravely. “All I found… all I found was Nienna’s head..”

Time seemed to slow around Azriel, his stomach dropping as if he had fallen a thousand feet. He could feel his blood coursing through his veins. No, he begged the Mother. No, please, don’t say it…

“...And Ravenna’s blood everywhere.”

Azriel barely heard the choked scream that Rhysand emitted from beside him. All he could feel was the world crumbling around him as he strayed out of thought and time. It was as if a roaring sea echoed in his ears, muffling the sound of his High Lord’s voice and his best friend’s sobs. He wanted to go to Rhys, to offer some form of comfort, but he was completely frozen. And he knew if he moved an inch, he would collapse to his knees.

“Did you look for a body?” Azriel’s voice was soft as death, afraid if he spoke any louder it would break entirely.

Enraged, a dark tendril of Ronan’s power lashed out and wrapped around his throat, suffocating him. But he barely felt it, his body numb. “Do you not think that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few hours, you stupid boy?” Ronan hissed furiously, eyes wild and spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog. “You think I would not search high and low for the body of my mate? And my daughter?”

Azriel welcomed the suffocation for making him feel something other than what he was feeling. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not after the fight that they had the other morning.

Eventually after a few moments, the dark power retreated. Ronan sank down into his chair, eyes empty with grief. Azriel had never seen the High Lord exhibit any kind of emotion that wasn’t hatred or contempt until now. It was a jarring sight to behold, a chip in the heavy armour that had become a second skin for Ronan.

Azriel’s chest felt tight, as if a bomb were about to go off inside it and shatter his heart into a thousand pieces. All day, his shadows had whispered Ravenna’s name to him and he had brushed them off with annoyance. Guilt made his stomach churn as he thought of Ravenna, suffering and fighting for her last breaths as he ignored the warnings from his shadows. Somehow, they knew something was wrong. Perhaps if he had listened to them, he’d have been able to stop this somehow. A single tear slid down his cheek, burning hot against his cold skin as the grief began to settle in, the shock fading away.

“How did they find the camp?” Azriel forced himself to ask, though his throat was drier than a desert. Illyria was difficult to navigate for anyone not born there – for a foreign power to attack so precisely was worrying to say the least.

“I have my spies looking into it,” Ronan answered, anger returning to fill the emptiness in his dark eyes. “But they must have been tipped off. There are over a dozen war camps across Illyria, for Hybern to happen across the one with my mate and daughter is no coincidence.”

A shadow gently poked Azriel’s arm, whispering his friend’s name. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhysand go pale. He had stopped crying, his eyes wide with horror. Realisation dawned over Azriel, and he forced his face to remain neutral. Rhys had befriended Tamlin of the Spring Court, son of the Spring High Lord – Ronan’s enemy. The two families hated each other, constantly looking for an excuse to break out into war. Azriel had not approved of the strange friendship between the High Lords’ sons, but had never said anything.

But based on Rhys’s expression, he had certainly said something to Tamlin. Something that may have caused this.

Upon seeing his son’s face, Ronan sharply turned his head towards him. Dark eyes narrowed as he spoke with a growl, “If you have something to say, boy, spit it out before I pry it from you myself.”

More tears spilled down Rhys’s face. “I’m sorry…” He sputtered. “I’m so sorry…”

Azriel could barely breathe. His heart stopped as he felt the High Lord’s dark power fill the room as Ronan rose from his chair. His shadows hid themselves as the tension thickened. Ever so slightly, he situated himself ready to leap and help his friend. That is, if he didn’t throw up everywhere first.

“What did you do?” Ronan growled. When Rhys didn’t answer, the High Lord slammed his fist down onto the table so hard the wood splintered, making both Azriel and Rhys flinch. “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” He roared furiously.

Rhys’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I mentioned to Tamlin that my mother and sister would be going to the camp in the Eastern Steppes for a few days. But I swear–”

“You told that Spring Court boy?” There was no mistaking the pure rage that bled from Ronan’s voice as he stormed around the desk, grabbing Rhys by his collar and shaking them. Azriel could not bring himself to move – he had suspected that Rhys may have revealed their location to the enemy, but hearing him admit it out loud was like a tidal wave crashing over him. “You told my enemies where my mate and daughter were going to be? Tamlin must have run straight to his father, who gladly tipped off Hybern.”

“He wouldn’t have told him willingly!” Rhys protested, violet eyes desperate. “Tamlin isn’t like that–”

“Silence! I told you that you were to end your ridiculous friendship with that boy. That he would stab you in the back one day if you did not do so first. He has betrayed you and if you hadn’t told him where Nienna and Ravenna were, they would still be here!”

Anger rose within Azriel. On the one hand, part of him wanted to defend Rhys. To his knowledge, Tamlin had always protested against the brewing feud between the families only to be shut down by his cruel father. But he couldn’t help but feel like strangling Rhys for being so careless.

Rhys only stared at his father, body limp with no resistance to the rough treatment. “I’m so sorry…” Was all he could say, over and over again.

Eventually, Ronan released his son, and Rhys slumped against the back of his chair. The High Lord stared at him with hatred. “The only reason I am not ending your pathetic life right here is because you are my only heir.” He hissed. “When we get back, you will be paying for this mistake, believe me.”

“Where are we going?” Rhys asked as Ronan snapped his fingers, their night robes quickly transforming into battle gear.

“To the Spring Court. We are going to teach that family a lesson, and you are going to help me. I want every member of that family dead by morning.”

Azriel’s heart dropped. Rhys blanched even further, looking at Azriel for support. But he could not meet his eyes. A thousand different emotions ran through him – guilt for not listening to his shadows earlier, anger at Rhys for giving away such sensitive information to someone from the enemy’s side, and regret at the way he spoke to Ravenna during their last conversation. It was all too much, threatening to boil over if he saw even one second of the apologetic glance from his friend. Stiffening his shoulders, Azriel took a breath. He had to keep it together in the presence of the High Lord.

Ronan stormed past him, a mighty sword in hand. Rhys followed him, and the door slammed behind him on the way out. Finally, Azriel was left alone. He winnowed to the cliffs upon the tops of the mountains surrounding Velaris, letting his shadows swallow him whole and remove him from the room where he received the most devastating news of his life.

The biting, icy chill of the wind was welcome as the shadowsinger emerged on top of the distant cliffs, where he sank to his knees on the cold rock and fell apart, letting out a hoarse scream towards the glowing stars above.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @decadentpostnacho @lizurich @throneofsapphics @

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flavoracle · 9 months

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Retconning My Life

Last weekend my ex-spouse and I were able to sit down and have a conversation that was very difficult, but also very productive. Honestly, it’s way more progress towards healing than I ever thought would be possible with my ex.

Since my wife and my ex-spouse are very close friends, my wife was there for the conversation as well, and one of the first questions she asked my ex-spouse was, “How much of your relationship did you know that you were only attracted to women?”

“Oh, the whole time,” was their response.

“Did you know you weren’t attracted to Dave before you started dating?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Now, the point of this post is NOT to criticize my ex or blame them for the pain I’ve experienced. There are a lot of pressures and reasons that keep different people in the closet, and I’m not here to judge them for it.

After all, I don’t know how it feels to spend fifteen years in a relationship where I felt like I had to stay in the closet.

At the same time, I sincerely hope that they will never know how it feels to spend fifteen years in a relationship with someone who doesn’t actually want you. Or to spend fifteen years in a relationship being lied to by the person you trust the most in the whole world.

For those of you that have followed my blog for a while, you might know that being a loving and supportive husband was a major part of my identity. It was something I thought I was really good at and I took a lot of personal pride in. (Though I tried to not be overly arrogant or obnoxious about it.) And one of the main reasons I was good at it is because the person I was looking to for feedback never told me how they actually felt about me or our relationship.

So now I’m trying to process this new information and from a narrative standpoint it’s like going back and retconning a major characteristic for the majority of my adult life up to this point. Because instead of being a guy who was actually good at making his spouse feel happy, supported, and loved, it turns I was actually a super oblivious guy who just THOUGHT he was good at those things, while actually infuriating his spouse by constantly focusing on the relationship and how to increase the love and affection within it.

If you’re reading this post and thinking, “I have no idea to respond to this,” then that is 100% fair and valid. Because honestly I have no idea what kind of response I’m hoping to get.

I guess during a time where my very reality feels so subjective and disjointed, there’s a kind of comfort sharing here on Tumblr where reality has ALWAYS been subjective and disjointed.

In a world that currently feels unreal, it’s kinda nice to come back to a place that has always felt a bit unreal.

#nerd marriage #nerd relationships #what is real anyway?#how could i have been so blind for so long?#i just assumed since i never lied to my spouse that they’d never lie to me either #the idea that they might lie to me never even crossed my mind

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wildlife4life · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @spaceprincessem @exhuastedpigeon @spotsandsocks @devirnis @lover-of-mine @sibylsleaves @hoodie-buck @loserdiaz @daffi-990 and @ladydorian05 Thank you all so much! I look forward to all your fics!

Alright, so yesterday I asked basically for permission to work on my Halloween fics instead of NFL Buck and many of you said to do it. So just for a short time, I will be pausing on NFL Buck. I promise it is still being worked on a bit, but most of my concentration will be on my Halloween fics, which I really hope I can actually get done before Halloween.

Also, I cannot promise that I will be posting much more for tag games this weekend. My daughter is having minor surgery on Friday that we are going out of town for (hospital where I am was a year out), so I will be making most of the weekend taking care of her. I will try my very best to post something, but no promises.

Now that I've caught ya'll up, I know I mentioned a possible werewolf buddie fic. Well that is not this today. Instead I am bringing back Jigsaw Buck, my serial killer fic based off the Saw films. Previous post can be found here.

Warning below the cut. Description of grotesque death and also Devon's suicide. ENJOY!

Pretending to care, to have those emotions that make him approachable and later ignored, is hard work. Buck slipped just a little once. After losing Devon on the roller coaster. Of course, Buck wanted him to fight for his life, to see how much better it could be after the game was won, but in end, it wasn’t enough. And that was on Devon. But his old fire captain somehow took his quick acceptance as a form of shock and sent him to department therapy. Buck hated therapists. They were of the few who had the power to peer past the layers, rip off the masks, and see the twisted bloody hunk of flesh that resembled what remained of his dead brother-in-law. Cold with no emotion to be found; just the void that demands the retribution of others. Thankfully (and somewhat unfortunately), Dr. Wells was too distracted by the shiny layer that is firefighter Buckley to actually do her job. Sadly, she abused the small amount of power she held in her delicate, manicured hands and tried to sexually exploit the man she was supposed to help. When Buck dug around a bit and found her many other victims, well it was a good thing Dr. Wells had such a precise schedule. It was almost too easy grabbing her in the blind spot of her office’s cameras. Too bad the therapist spent most of her given time, screaming that she did no wrong. That those she exploited wanted what she forced upon them, that she didn’t abuse the power she held. And when those last few precious second ticked away, Buck stepped into the room, saddened by her reluctance to take the second chance, learn her lesson. “Game over.” He told her bluntly then turned away, unable to witness his masterful contraption drill into her skull. The whirring tool flung ringlets of bone, blood, hair, and brain matter across the room and onto the floor. The key to her freedom, sat unused in a box just a mere two feet away. The price…a single hand, relinquishing the power she held in it and a tool of her neglect.

Dr. Wells isn't the first or the last of Buck's victims. Spoiler: Eddie will be a subject to Buck's games as well. Mwhaha.

Tagging (no pressure): @callaplums @elvensorceress @eowon @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @thekristen999 @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @buddierights @cowboy-buck @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @forthewolves @try-set-me-on-fire @eddiediaztho @eddiebabygirldiaz @thewolvesof1998 @lizzybizzyzzz @shortsighted-owl @homerforsure @monsterrae1 @911onabc @adiazhalloween @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @bvckandeddie @arthursdent @glorious-spoon @bigfootsmom @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss @gayhoediaz @gayedmundodiaz

#wip wednesday #tag game #my wip #halloween fic #911 abc #911 show #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #dr. wells #serial killer buck #jigsaw buck #detective eddie #gore #saw movies #blood

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snowmist-hashira · 10 months

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Hello! I hope you are having a great day! I would just like to say that I really like your blog and oneshots. It's hard to find any content about Muichiro online so I'm very grateful to have found your blog.

I woul like to request a oneshot for sick female reader with Muichiro. Not an AU, if possible. The reader is also a Hashira and around the same age as him (maybe just a year older). Also, I would like it to be romantic.

The oneshot goes like;

The reader gets sick because of training under the rain. The reader has done this too many even before becoming a Hashira so it was like normal to them and they did not even think about being sick. They later come down with a common cold, but the reader does not care and keeps doing it until Muichiro told them to rest. So yeah, Muichiro takes care of reader being sick. You can decide how the rest goes.

Small description about the personality of the reader; they are not really talkative but they are nice and also stubborn. But they can be sort of really talkative with people close to them. (ADITTIONAL NOTE: Muichiro is close to them)

I am really sorry if this did not make any sense, I tried my best. You can take your time with this, I can wait. Also, can I get a hi when you publish this? Thank you! Have a nice day! :))))))

[Chapter title: Rainswept Devotion]

[Requested] Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad:(One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader Archive:Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list:♠ Information ♠

Word count: 1,404

Artist: @utafuyuart [冬詩]

Links; Pixiv & Twitter

I am open to requests for Muichiro x Reader content, and I also enjoy engaging in roleplays. If you're interested in either, please feel free to check out my pinned post for more information. ~ ♠

Hello there~ Thank you for your generous words, and I'm delighted to hear that you enjoy my fanfics! I hope I was able to meet your expectations with your request and provide an enjoyable experience for you~ I also recently received your message on my inbox about the reader's trait, no worries! No changes were made, I hope you'd still like it. (Scheduled)

The heavy rain poured down relentlessly, each droplet collided with the ground, creating a symphony of water. The sound of raindrops hitting rooftops, leaves, and windows echoed through the air, filling the surroundings with its steady rhythm. The wind joined in, blowing forcefully through the streets, rustling trees and carrying the rain in different directions. It howled through the alleys and whistled around corners, adding an extra layer of intensity to the storm.

Amidst the raging storm, Y/n stood resolute, her stubbornness unyielding as she continued her training. Clad in her Hashira uniform, rainwater soaked her clothes, making them cling to her body. Her grip on the wooden sword tightened as she swung it with precision and force, the sound of wood colliding with the dummy almost drowned out by the relentless downpour.

The raindrops splashed against her face, mixing with the sweat that beaded on her brow. Her hair, drenched by the cascading water, stuck to her skin, but she paid it no mind. Y/n's previous experiences of training in the rain without falling ill had instilled a sense of confidence within her. The thought of catching a cold simply didn't cross her mind, however this time she catches one.

Her stubbornness in the face of her cold were evident in her uneven breathing and blurred vision. She had pushed herself to the brink, refusing to acknowledge the toll her illness was taking on her body. However, her fellow Hashira, Muichiro, recognized the risks she was subjecting herself to and intervened.

"Y/n, come inside already. It's pouring too heavily," Muichiro called out his voice carrying a tone of authority and worry.

Y/n, though weakened and struggling to articulate her response, remained defiant. She huffed out her sentence, determined to prove her capability to continue despite her worsening condition, "It's... fine. I-I can continue."

“…” Muichiro's frown deepened as he observed Y/n's continued insistence, her resolve refusing to waver. Exasperated by her stubbornness and concerned for her well-being, he let out a sigh that mixed with the sound of the pouring rain. Without hesitation, he stepped into the heavy rain, his own figure becoming drenched as he approached her.

Closing the distance between them, Muichiro reached out and firmly grasped the hilt of Y/n's practice sword, immobilizing her movements. The strength in his grip prevented her from continuing her training, highlighting the severity of her weakened state.

"It's not fine," Muichiro stated firmly, his voice unwavering despite the harsh weather as his words held a blend of frustration and genuine care. "You can't even pull the hilt from me. Your body is telling you that it's reached its limit."

Y/n's mouth opened, ready to argue and defend her desire to continue training despite her worsening condition. However, the firm and concerned glare in Muichiro's eyes halted her words mid-sentence. It was a gaze that conveyed his genuine worry for her well-being, silently urging her to reconsider her stance; with a reluctant sigh, Y/n finally relinquished her grip on the practice sword.

Muichiro’s concern for Y/n's well-being remained steadfast as he guided her back to the estate, his steps deliberate and mindful of her weakened state. He led her to a quiet corner of the tatami room, where he gently helped her sit down on the soft floor.

Despite the rainwater cascading from his drenched form, Muichiro disregarded his own discomfort and focused solely on Y/n as he enveloped her in a blanket, ensuring she was shielded from the cold and dampness that clung to her.

The mist pillar then reached for a towel, ready to dry off her drenched hair, “Muichiro, I can do that myself.” Despite her soft protest, Muichiro lightly flicked her hand away, dismissing her attempt to take the towel.

"Stop being so stubborn," he gently scolded her, his tone carrying a mix of exasperation and affection. Muichiro knew Y/n all too well, understanding her independent nature and the tendency to push through challenges on her own.

With a sigh, Muichiro proceeded to carefully dry Y/n's hair, his touch gentle and attentive. He moved with a delicacy that reflected his deep care for his partner. As he ran the towel through her wet strands, he worked to provide her with a sense of comfort and relief, knowing that the simple act of drying her hair would help ward off any further chill.

Y/n, having changed into a fresh set of clothes, reluctantly acquiesced to Muichiro's silent suggestion. Muichiro patted the futon, indicating for her to lay down, and she complied, albeit with a hint of resistance.

He approached Y/n's side and gently rested his hand on her forehead, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. A sigh escaped his lips as he realized the extent of her fever.

Recognizing the need for cooling relief, Muichiro dipped a towel into a nearby bowl of water. He wrung out the excess moisture before placing the cool towel on Y/n's forehead. The contrast of the chilled fabric against her feverish skin offered a soothing sensation, aimed at providing her some comfort and aiding in reducing her temperature.

As Y/n's weariness grew and her resistance to sleep waned, a sense of gentle comfort enveloped her. Muichiro's presence and care had created an atmosphere of tranquility, coaxing her towards much-needed rest. Her eyelids fluttered, threatening to succumb to sleep, but a fleeting resistance held her back.

Sensing her struggle, Muichiro ran his hand through Y/n's hair, untangling the strands with a tenderness that spoke volumes. The gentle strokes soothed her, easing away any remaining tension and providing a sense of reassurance.

The touch of Muichiro's hand in her hair acted as a gentle invitation to surrender to sleep's embrace. The repetitive motion, combined with the comfort of the cool towel on her forehead, lulled her further into drowsiness. The resistance she initially felt began to dissolve, replaced by a growing acceptance of the rest she so desperately needed.

His soft and tender gaze remained fixed on Y/n's weakened form, his usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a rare display of vulnerability. Seeing her in such a state stirred a mixture of emotions within him—concern, care, and a deep sense of protectiveness.

Sensing that the damp towel on her forehead needed to be changed, with a gentle release, he removed his hand from her strands, ensuring not to disturb her sleep. His touch lingered for a moment, a silent reassurance that he would return.

With deliberate movements, he reached out for the towel, careful not to disrupt the tranquility of the moment. As he replaced the damp towel with a fresh one, he did so with a gentleness that reflected his deep care for her well-being.

Y/n's features relaxed and soften as she slept soundly, the lines of worry and fatigue momentarily eased from her face. Muichiro couldn't help but be captivated by the peacefulness that radiated from her in this moment of respite. A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a rare sight for those who knew him.

Overwhelmed by the depth of his affection and the genuine care he held for Y/n, Muichiro's hand instinctively reached out to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, a gentle caress that mirrored the delicate nature of the scene unfolding before him. To his surprise and delight, Y/n, even in her slumber, leaned into the warmth of his touch, instinctively seeking his comfort.

A surge of affection filled his heart as his smile widened a bit. Overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions, he found himself drawn to Y/n even more, with a gentle lean forward, his own strands of hair falling to the side, Muichiro pressed a soft, tender kiss onto Y/n's lips.

The gentle touch of his lips against hers carried his gesture of care and protection.

After lingering for a brief moment, Muichiro pulled away, his gaze remaining fixated on Y/n's figure, his eyes traced the contours of her face, studying every detail as if committing it to memory. The softness of her features, the rise and fall of her chest with each peaceful breath—each aspect held a profound beauty that captivated him.

"Rest well, Y/n. I'll be here." Muichiro's voice, barely above a whisper, carried the weight of his words as he spoke softly to the slumbering Y/n.

His voice held a gentle reassurance, a promise that he would remain by her side throughout the night and beyond.

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