#its all made up to begin with. it’s real but it’s made up

[orcboxer]

"the correct answer to the trolley problem is to reject its premise" That's explicitly not an answer. If you are the agent in the trolley problem, and you say "I reject the premise", the people still die. It is a made up scenario, yes. It was made specifically to illustrate in a real-world situation where you have limited influence and none of your options are perfect. There are many problems in the real world that you cannot solve by pulling a lever. However, you also cannot solve them by doing nothing. And unlike the trolley problem, you can't just "reject the premise" and exit the scenario. The consequences still happen.

The point is to demonstrate your ethical reasoning. Nobody wants to accept the premise, we want to revise the scenario, or exit the situation, or just find the trick answer that solves everything perfectly, and ultimately, many people decide not to pull the lever. Why? Because it feels worse to take action in a shitty situation than to do nothing and pretend that you never had any influence to begin with.

Except, even if you do nothing, you are still just as complicit in the consequences as if you had pulled the lever. The point is that inaction feels like an inherently neutral choice, even when its consequences are demonstrably worse. The point is that there is no solution where you don't have someone's blood on your hands. Yes it sucks. Yes you want to reject the scenario. That's supposed to happen, you're supposed to feel that conflict, that's part of the test. What we're looking to find out is what you do with that conflict. Do you prioritize emotional comfort or external action?

Maybe one day we'll have built a future where nobody has to confront that sort of problem, but right now, those problems are real and numerous, because whether you accept it or not we were born into a world where people already built massive systems of cruelty, and we all have very limited influence over them. Obviously we don't want these systems to exist. Obviously it won't be solved by a single decision. But if you want to dismantle them you have to actually do something when you have the chance. If you wait around for the Perfect Choice That Fixes Everything, you will die waiting. You can't fix everything all at once. And doing nothing only makes things worse. So do what you can.

#orcspeak

[cordeliawhohung]

Of Sea Foam and Iron [3]

general masterlist | series masterlist | taglist

Hephaestus!ghost x Aphrodite!reader x Ares!soap

a storm hits

wc: 3.9k

warnings: historical au with lots of inaccuracies, mythology!au, nudity, talk of war and gore

Cold linens awaited you when you truly woke from your rest as John and Simon’s presence had dissipated.

There was no chin to rest against the top of your head, or a strong chest to press against your back. In fact, the only proof that they had ever been there at all was their lingering scent on your skin. You closed your eyes as soon as they fluttered open, trying to draw back the memory of their hands on your waist and the comforting weight that accompanied it. It was only a pale imitation of the real thing, and it left your chest yearning for something you knew you would never gain the courage to ask for. 

When your eyes opened for a second time, they did so with a great huff from your lungs. Pale sunlight and a strong breeze drifted through the cracks of the closed shutters, and though salt was always ever present in the air, you could smell the promise of rain hiding underneath the brine. It would be a good day to stay inside. 

Usually you didn’t need your himation in the warm summer months, but without the golden sun to warm the house, a heavy chill pricked at your body. You wrapped the thick wool around your shoulders before you descended downstairs on creaky steps. Simon was already hard at work for the day, and you hardly got halfway to the landing before you heard his hammer echo with its metallic clink in the courtyard. All Simon had done since the day the two of you were bound together in matrimony was work. In the beginning, you were certain that it was to distance himself from you — his unruly wife — but once John returned home you thought he would allow himself to rest. Yet, it seemed as if that’s all the man ever wanted to do. 

“Mornin’ little dove,” John grinned. 

A strong fire blazed in the central hearth of the home where dancing flames attempted to lick John’s back as he sat faced away from his hard work. Blue eyes sparkled with a warmth that rivaled the fire behind him, and you almost felt a smile flitter across your lips. There was nothing different from his gaze that morning compared to the previous day, yet his fingers twitched as they rested on his bent knees as if they searched for something.

“Morning,” you replied, voice meek as you adjusted your himation. 

Johnny’s hand slipped off of his knee where he patted the hearth next to him invitingly. “Come, get warm.” 

Your bare feet hardly made a sound against the floor as you crossed into the threshold. Each step brought the warmth of the flames along your legs where they dethawed your cold toes and fingers. John watched you with careful eyes as you situated yourself on the stone slab next to him, and he hummed once you settled. Heat prickled up your spine and it chased away the residual morning cold that clung to your body; though, you were unable to tell if that was because of the fire, or because of John. 

“Rain is coming,” he said. His head tilted back to look up at the ceiling as if it were the sky instead. “A storm, maybe.” 

Over the roaring of the fire behind you, a dull roll of thunder grumbled somewhere in the distance. It was not frequent that your city received storms, as Poseidon often smiled upon you. Though one could argue he was angry, if the storm was mild, perhaps he only sent the rain to assist with the farmers and their crops. 

“That would be nice,” you mused. 

John chuckled warmly. “You like the rain?”

“I think so,” you answered. “I like the water. The ocean.” 

“A fine thing to love.” 

Instinct told you to look at him, yet you refrained from doing so. Despite the familiarity in the tone of conversation, John was still a stranger to you. Some man who had returned only yesterday to embrace your husband while dressed to gut enemies. Still, he was kind, but despite the fire at your back, you were silent and cold. 

“I… wanted to talk more about yesterday,” John continued through your silence. “I’m sure you still have many questions, as Simon isn’t the most prolific.” 

“Prolific?” you repeated with your snark hardly restrained. “He’s spoken a handful of words to me since we’ve been married.” 

“Like I said, quiet,” he repeated with a poorly hidden laugh. “Though, I wasn’t much help prompting answers from him yesterday, either. Dead on my feet after traveling. Took us just short of a fortnight to arrive home.” 

John rubbed at his eyes as if the exhaustion still plagued his vision, and yet even with his movement you did not glance at him once. Looking at someone often brought a weakness about you that you had difficulty conquering. There was something about their eyes that had you see the humanity within them, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. You would have hated to crumble in front of him. 

“Well,” you prodded, “perhaps you can get an explanation out of him, then. He spoke not a word of your existence and then introduced you as my second husband? Such terrible madness.” 

“I already got an explanation out of him this morning while you slept,” he sighed. “Which is why I want to talk to you. I’m better at explaining things than Simon is.” 

Bewildered, you finally allowed your eyes to fall on John. “Must you be so casual about this? Was this not a surprise to you? Coming home to your husband having wedded himself illegally to someone else?” 

“Simon is not my husband.” 

Your expression betrayed the icy exterior you used to conceal that softness inside. It was difficult to tell if it was because of your confusion, but you found your heart aching at those words. John could not look at you when he said them, and though they left his tongue with ease his tone was soaked in a somberness that burned. 

“Soldiers aren’t permitted to marry,” he explained, blue eyes trained on the floor in front of him. “They say love gets in the way. Muddles things up. Soldiers have only one duty, and it’s to the state.” 

He paused.

“I would have liked to have married him.” 

If it wasn’t for the pain in his voice, you would have been afraid. The lost longing painted you to be the ruiner; the pitiful being that tainted something that had not gotten the opportunity to bloom. A desert-like dryness settled on your tongue. It tasted worse than sand. It was bitter, grainy, and promised to end you. 

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. 

“Don’t be,” John said with an attempt at humor. “I told him to find a wife. To get married. Have children. I would have hated for him to wait around forever just for me.” 

“Could you not have waited? I thought soldiers were only required to serve for two years,” you pondered. 

John hummed again. He did that often, as if song better suited his ideas than mere words. Thick fingers pressed into the joints of his wrists as he massaged tired muscles and traced faded scars before answering you. 

“Most only serve for two years, yes,” he concurred. “But, you don’t earn the name Ares’s Dog by serving the minimum. My heart is here in the city, but my home is in the viscera leftover from battle.” 

He paused as he twisted his torso to look behind him. A large hand reached for a split log in the pile just next to the fire, and John expertly tossed it into the flames. The fire cracked loudly, content with its meal. 

“No. I told him to marry, so it wasn’t quite the surprise when I came home and you were already here,” he explained as he repositioned himself. “Find a wife. Start a family. And if his wife would have me too, then I would stay. But it seems things weren’t that simple considering your… situation.” 

“Yes,” you concurred, voice soft. “It wasn’t… proper.” 

“Simon told me what your father had to do to protect you. I’m sorry you had to witness such gore,” Johnny consoled. “I understand why he would hastily marry you off to Simon if it meant having the protection you deserve. And, well, knowing Simon as well as I do, he didn’t hesitate at all in marrying you if it meant aiding you.” 

A scoff tore through your vocal chords so fierce it left a sour aftertaste on your tongue. John spoke of Simon as if he were Apollo himself, guiding the sun across the sky to bring light and warmth to the soil beneath your feet. You were certain that John’s feelings towards Simon weren’t unfounded at all, but though he had never been cruel or unkind to you in any way, he was not loving. Not to you, anyway. 

“Could have fooled me,” you spat. “I feel like a ghost in this house. At least he avoids me like one.” 

Despite your sour attitude and words, John only chuckled. 

“His love is strange, yes,” he said. “It’s still new to him; love. Being vulnerable. Something he was never granted before. He’ll keep his distance, if you let him. I swear to you, you’ll find no finer man than him.” 

Another roll of thunder shook the sky. It was stronger than the quiet whisper of one you heard minutes earlier, and it all but demanded attention. Both you and John looked up to the ceiling, and moments later the soft trickle of rain engulfed the house. Though none of the windows were open, you pulled your himation closer to you as if to stave off the breeze that beat at the shudders. The thick wool soaked up the heat of the fire like a sponge, keeping you well insulated despite the impending storm. 

A content sigh left John as he carefully pushed himself to his feet. Soft trails of goosebumps prickled across his skin as he stepped away from the fire and into the cold, but he didn’t stray far before turning to face you once more. His hands reached for you where they hovered in the air, patiently waiting for you to accept his offer. 

“Come. We should eat,” he urged.  

It was not your first time putting your hands in his. He always seemed to want to hold you and gently guide you as if you did not know any better. Still, you accepted his assistance as he pulled you from the hearth. Somehow, his hands were warmer than the flames, and though you were standing on your own, he refused to let you go. 

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said, blue eyes boring into you. “I told Simon to find a wife, and if she would have me, then I would stay. If you do not wish for me to be here, say the word, little dove. Your father might have wanted for you to be under my protection, but I will not share a bed with a woman who would want someone else. I will leave no mark on this place when I go, if that’s what you wish.” 

No response rose in your mind or throat at his reminder, but a heavy fit of remorse weighed on your chest. He spoke those words as if he were the intruder. As if he had not loved Simon and lived in that house long before you ever came around. It was difficult to tell if you had fully accepted the idea that you lived with two men; though even if you hadn’t, it was something your father obviously wanted for you. Still, even if you didn’t want him around, you would not deny him the flesh and warmth of his lover. 

“Stay,” you said, voice quiet. 

John’s smile was the warmest you had ever seen. No hint of lust or darkness; only a pure appreciation for your kindness, something you felt like you weren’t capable of those days. His tongue darted out between his lips as if in anticipation, and you ignored the way it made your stomach churn. 

“Then it is done.” 

Trickling rain continued into the afternoon before it started to swell into a proper storm. Whistling wind became near deafening as it threatened to pull the house apart, and it wasn’t until the sky was black with clouds that Simon finally ceased his work and took shelter inside. With the amount of water that dripped from his clothes when he came limping into the kitchen for lunch, you were surprised he hadn’t drowned out there. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead and down the nape of his neck, and his chiton clung to his body in a way that certainly wasn’t comfortable. His frigid skin tinged pink with his scars extra angry and puffy. 

Both you and John looked up from your food at the sopping wet mess of a man who dirtied the kitchen. Simon’s chest heaved with fatigue, and his feet hardly lifted from the ground as he meandered towards John. 

“How’s the weather?” John asked facetiously. 

“Frustrating,” Simon huffed. “Can’t keep a goddamn fire lit or burnin’ hot enough.”

He paused once he approached John’s side, eyes focused on the plate of food in front of him. Without a word, he snatched a fair size of cured meat off of it before taking a bite and turning around. Simon continued his pitiful shuffle as he exited the kitchen, shoulders hunched and legs shaking. John did not appear to mourn the loss of his food, yet his eyes stayed trained unwavering on his lover’s body as he rounded the corner. 

“He seems upset,” you noted. 

“He’s in pain,” John explained. 

A clash of thunder sounded just as John rose from his chair, and he left his plate behind as he began to rummage for something around the stove. Its embers ebbed and waved with brilliant scarlet light, and it almost danced to life in flames when John knelt before it. He retrieved two medium sized, semi-flat stones tucked into the stonework and placed them on the small hearth next to the dying embers. Nodding to himself, he then turned to you, worry etched deep in his face. 

“Wait a few minutes, then grab these stones and bring them up to our chamber,” he asked while his feet began to wander out of the room. “They’ll be hot, so grab them with cloth. Take care not to burn yourself.” 

Without another word, he vanished out of the room where you then heard his feet stomping up the stairs moments later. Rain refused to quiet nor waver even as you carefully cleaned up yours and John’s plate. 

Pain? Simon was in pain? Well, John could certainly read your husband better than you could, because you thought he had just been his regular self. Still, you supposed it wasn’t entirely impossible. With as many scars that afflicted his body, you were certain the damage ran deeper than just superficial marks on his skin. 

As instructed, you waited until the rocks had soaked plenty of warmth before using the edge of your himation to grab them. With careful hands, you trekked up the stairs to the second floor where you found John and Simon in bed together. A drenched chiton sat on the floor next to the bed, but Simon’s naked body still glistened with the memory of its moisture. His chest heaved and he grunted like an animal as he slung an arm over his face, hiding his eyes from the light of the oil lamp that flickered on the nightstand. 

John’s thumbs dug into the muscle around Simon’s knees, massaging them with what appeared to be less than gentle touch. Simon hissed, jaw flexing as his teeth grinded together, yet he kept still as the man worked at him. You approached the side of the bed with hands outstretched, hot rocks tucked together underneath thick wool sitting in your palms. 

“Is he alright?” you questioned.

John paused long enough to turn and grab the stones from your hands. His fingers didn’t flinch when he grabbed them, as if he was so used to the heat of them that it no longer phased him. 

“It’s the weather,” he explained. “The old wounds in his knees are aggravated by the change.” 

You watched with apprehension as John pressed the rocks against Simon’s skin, yet your husband didn’t flinch. The tense muscles that flexed in his thighs slowly began to soften as John moved the rocks carefully around his knee, tracing the long scar that dissected his skin. It was one of the first things you noticed about him the day you got married. Deep and ugly, it ailed him so bad he couldn’t walk straight because of it; forever bound to limp in weakness despite the strong stature his body would otherwise have you believe. 

Another smaller scar mirrored in perfect continuity on his other knee. It was not as deep nor as angry, but you could clearly make out the line in which both scars connected. A blade. It must have been. There was no other weapon that you knew of that could’ve created a scar such as that. His entire body, even his face, was littered with the unsightly marks. 

Why would a blacksmith have such scars? 

John moved from one knee to the next, warm rocks soothing away the ache so deep in Simon’s body that hands alone could not heal. You quietly stole a seat on the mattress next to Simon, and you carefully watched the mesmerizing motions of John’s circling hands. He was so… soft for a soldier. Considerate. It’s a side of man you weren’t used to seeing after witnessing such violence in your home. For a while, you thought love was just violence; blood waiting to be spilled. Perhaps love was just warm rocks against tired skin. 

“What happened?” you asked with eyes still trained on the old wound. 

John’s eyes glanced up at Simon, who wasn’t able to see his gaze through the arm slung over his face. As if he felt the burn of his eyes, the man shifted on the bed before letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Tell ‘er, Johnny. Know you like tellin’ the story,” he urged. 

A grin bloomed on John’s face as he turned his attention back to Simon’s knee. “He got this from saving my life.” 

Stunned, you shifted on the mattress to get closer, and your thigh brushed against Simon’s leg. How your husband could handle the cold of your chambers completely naked and half wet was beyond you. Your body yearned for any warmth it could steal. 

“I don’t believe it,” you countered. 

Really, you didn’t. How could John MacTavish, hailed hero of your city, need any sort of saving? You didn’t at all doubt Simon’s capability of saving someone; it was just the thought that John could ever find himself in such a precarious situation that you doubted. 

“I’d never lie to you, little dove,” John chuckled. “No, Simon and I served together, once upon a time ago. Trained together. Fought together.” 

He paused his story in order to switch knees again, returning to the one closest to him. Simon’s breathing had already calmed, and he no longer panted like a mad dog. Any tension that had been harbored in his body when you first entered the chambers had almost been completely washed away. 

“Years ago both of us had been deployed in a large-scale battle. It was a bloody skirmish with swords flailing every which way, I swear the glint of metal was brighter than the sun that day,” John recalled. “But there was this big brute who fought with a club. Rivaled the size of Simon, even, which isn’t easy. Bastard snatched the shield right out of my hands and knocked his club against my chin. Split me right open and knocked me out cold.” 

A hand instinctively covered your mouth as John shared the story, and he paused for a moment to look at you. He seemed to take some sort of boyish pride in your worry, and he tilted his chin up to put his own scar on display. You had hardly noticed it before due to his stubble and your active effort to not look too many people in the eyes, but it marked his skin as clear as day. It was deep, spanning from the front of his chin and curling underneath the right side of his jaw in an angry, red line. 

“I wasn’t out long, of course, but I wasn’t all there when I woke up,” he continued. “Felt like I was underwater, could hardly breathe. Bastard stood over me ready to bash my head in like a damn melon when Simon swooped in like an eagle. Sliced him to bits before he could do anything else to me. But war is messy and unforgiving. Several others piled on him, got him pretty good. Still killed the bastards.” 

“All but one,” Simon corrected. He had been so quiet you swore he had fallen asleep. “One of ‘em ran off.” 

“He killed the bastards that weren’t cowards,” John amended with a chuckle. “But they got his knees. Surprised infection didn’t take him. But Simon, my love, stubborn man that he is, carried me off the field even with his wounds.”

“Would you rather I dragged you?” Simon asked. 

“You should’ve left me there.”

“I love you too much for that.” 

The sound of rain smothered the conversation as both men fell silent. Rotten shame boiled deep in your stomach as your eyes carefully scanned Simon’s body. Over the weeks, you had gotten so used to his unabashed nakedness to the point it didn’t phase you, but that wasn’t what made you feel shameful; it was the realization of how bitter you had been. 

On the day of your wedding when Simon lifted your veil from your face, the only thing you could think was how ugly he was. The scars that littered his body were just eyesores, and his limp didn’t make him a paragon of strength. Hardly the man that was supposed to protect you from the wicked ways of the world. How cruel you were for thinking such a thing. For looking at the scars he earned saving the life of his lover as if they were an eyesore rather than proof of his devotion. How dare you look at him as anything less than he was; a man who loved?

In an attempt to swallow down your shame, you found your own hands reaching out for Simon’s knee. The heat of his skin felt nice against your frigid hands, but he flinched at the sensation. You paused as you looked up at his half obscured face, and you didn’t look away until you felt his muscles melt and relax underneath your touch. 

In silence, you mimicked John’s movements with your thumbs. Tendons and muscle danced underneath your fingertips as you did your best to massage the pain from your husband. With hands as weak as yours, you were certain it hardly did anything to help him at all. Still, you continued, and you prayed to the gods that he could feel your silent apology through your touch alone.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #f!reader

[starlit-typewriter]

Genshin SAGAU, Creator of Teyvat, but not Humanity Part 1

Playing around with the idea of The creator of Teyvat, not being the creator of humanity.

| Next Part

~~~

You were never much of a gamer.

Not that you disliked games of course, but it never quite clicked with you the way it did others. You’d try a couple of games on and off, but there would always be a point where it’d become boring.

Not that there was anything bad about the games themselves, you freely complimented the design and effort it goes into making these masterful pieces of art and code.

You just, weren't a gamer.

Until Genshin Impact

You can still remember the day you heard of it.

You were chatting with friends and one of them brought up this new game they saw a promotion for that they were interested in trying.

It was this anime-esque gacha game.

They showed you a couple trailers and promotional materials, and you must admit they were quite appealing.

However you didn’t intend to try it, knowing that you’d eventually drop it and move on.

But your friend still pestered you, claiming that there’s no harm in trying and dropping another game, after all it’s free anyways, so you’re not losing out on anything monetary.

Skeptical, you joined them in trying out the game.

And

Well

Let’s just say your friend got more than a couple of “I told you so’s” that day

It was beautiful.

The art, the music, the characters.

Everything about this game just, clicked.

You understand why people got so obsessed with certain games.

Why they would be willing to pay for things such as this.

Why this is such a large industry.

It’s, well it’s fun.

It was honestly quite frightening how quickly the game pulled you in.

You never understood the term “completionist”, until it started to apply to you.

Every quest, every domain, every achievement

You did it all

Every dialogue, every story, every entry in the archive.

You read it all.

You scoured the forums for bits of lore, and shrieked with your friend every time something new was dropped.

Genshin was all consuming.

It was honestly quite concerning, if it weren’t for the fact it was time gated with its resin cap and limited content, your outside life probably would’ve suffered.

On some level you probably knew that this was not normal. Your friends who were all gamers as well were never as obsessed over a single game as you were over Genshin.

But you reassured yourself, this is the first game that made me feel this way, its natural for me to go a little overboard.

I’m sure it’ll die down as I try out other games.

But you never really did.

No other game, no matter how popular or similar or highly rated.

Other games from Hoyoverse fared slightly better in terms of attention span.

But you always went back to Genshin.

Not that it bothered you.

Genshin was enough, considering you still had real world responsibilities to balance.

And that was that.

Until, well.

Until Fontaine.

You see, you’d always enjoyed the characters of Teyvat.

But you’ve never quite simped after them the way the fanbase did.

You admired their aesthetics and enjoyed their stories. But they never quite drew you in.

Even your main, was quite honestly determined by meta and whatever character you’ve managed to get your hands on.

There was never a “waifu” or “husbando”.

It was always the world and story that drew you in rather than individual characters.

Iudex Neuvillette was an exception.

The exception

He felt right.

You immediately knew you had to pull for him.

So you did.

And playing him was amazing. He was as meta breaking as you’d hoped and, well, you just liked him.

“Your first official Husbando” your friends would tease. You understand why they would go such lengths for a specific character now.

He was special.

He was a Dragon.

He felt, right.

You quite never understood why

Not until you entered the world of Teyvat.

That story,

Well,

That begins from the other side of the screen.

~~~

“I bet we can definitely open up a whole new sector in Fontaine if all goes well don't you think?” Hu Tao chattered as she and Zhongli strolled back to Liyue Harbor.

Zhongli hummed in agreement, only half paying attention to the conversation. He could tell Hu Tao noticed, since she was keeping the topic of conversation to light topics that anyone with half a mind could parse through. Only enough relevance so that he wouldn’t get lost in thought, but not so much that he had to focus on the conversation.

She was considerate like that, he knew since she had let many of his oddities slide, especially when he was still adjusting to mortal life.

Not that he was free from old habits mind you.

Zhongli doubted he would ever truly be able to blend into a crowd of mortal without some level of adept arts concealing his presence, however he was able to blend in enough so that the average nosy person was able to wave off his eccentricities a simply a facet of his personality rather than something deeper.

He cannot forget that it was thanks to people such as Hu Tao who were willing to let him in without many questions that allowed him to get to this point. Something he will be forever grateful for.

Be that as it may, it did not change the fact that some things will forever be kept secret.

His near encounter with the Hydro dragon for one.

Even from the other side of Qiaoying village where he’d made himself scarce, he could feel the amount of blessings placed upon the man.

He truly was favored by the creator.

Not that that was any surprise.

What was surprising was his own blessing.

Though much smaller, he still treasured the gift given to him by the creator of Teyvat.

Teyvat, after all, was a world of Dragons.

It was due to the advent of The Primordial One, did they lose their authority.

Not that many people knew.

Most people didn’t

The true History and creation of Teyvat was kept tightly wrapped, even the most learned scholars of the Akademiya could only infer at what truly happened, as well as the origin of humanity.

The true name of the creator was lost to time, only their title of the creator of Teyvat remaining. The mortals who lived on Teyvat daren’t give them another for fear of evoking their wrath.

They had plenty to be wrathful about.

Zhongli would only imagine his own rage, if anything similar happened to Liyue.

Imagine putting in centuries upon centuries of work only for an outsider to come in, destroy your work and reshape it for their own people. Before proceeding to have the audacity to name him as a contributor to their success and praise alongside such an usurper.

Just imagining it makes him angry.

That is why, the creator’s title is rarely evoked.

Names have power after all.

Names of gods even more so.

To evoke their name, their title, is to ask for attention.

Attention that would be safer left elsewhere.

Not that mortals knew the true reason.

The commonly accepted reasoning was that the creator of Teyvat has long turned their gaze elsewhere, satisfied with the current ruling of Teyvat, having entrusted their powers to Celestia and the Archons.

Zhongli would feel guilt at this blatant lie and rewriting of history if he could.

But he cannot, because to feel guilt would be to regret his actions and to wish something was different.

But he knew that he, along with all of humanity, Liyue Harbor, his Adepti and friends. They would not have existed, they would not have lived, has history played out justly.

The world is not just.

The world simply is.

He feared to an extent that the Hydro dragons would try to force a more cruel version of justice upon Fontaine, condemning them all as usurpers, when they had no idea, or even power over what had happened in the past.

Thankfully it seems that Focalors’s plan to integrate him into humanity worked. Stemming any sort of “justice” he may enact on humanity for the crimes of The Primordial One. In fact, he seems to have great fondness over humanity, absolving them of their sin and saving them from the prophecy that threatened Fontaine for so many centuries.

However, he knew that he was exempt from this mercy. Zhongli knew that when the time came, the Hydro dragon, or well Iudex Neuvillette would spare no effort in holding him accountable for his actions in usurping the original order of Teyvat.

Which is exactly why he avoided the man, dragon? as he did.

“-ello, earth to Zhongli, ”

Zhongli blinked, Hu Tao’s voice dragging him back to their situation at hand.

“Ah, my apologies, I seemed to have been lost in thought”

She clicked her tongue at him, “Aiyyaa, honestly Zhongli, I wonder sometimes if your age is getting to you, I was trying to get your attention for quite a while”

“Is that so,”

Zhongli couldn’t help but smile at her exaggerated groan.

“I was merely thinking about some old history,” he started, preparing himself to finish the history of Qiaoying village that he was telling Hu Tao on their way over.

“Oh no, there’s no need for that,” she waved off, a slight grimace on her face.

He knew how bored she was by the story the way over, so it served as a perfect distraction on the way back to stop her from questioning any further.

“Honestly a girl can only listen so much about the different varieties of teas and their subtle notes and flavoring before she has to burst yo know,” she complained.

“Well, the history of tea has a -”

“Oh look we’re almost there!” She pointed out, most likely in a desperate bid to stop him from droning on.

He was being slightly unfair to her, he knows, but it never ceases to become unassuming when people try to fake interest in a topic, only to regret it when they realize just how much there is to know about it.

Of course it can never compare to when someone has a genuine passion for the topic and wants to engage further, but those mortals are rare.

More often than not, he can use his vast knowledge as a smokescreen too, well, as Paimon would most likely put it. Bore people into leaving him alone.

He waves off Hu Tao as she bounces back home, and allows himself to take a stroll through the streets of Liyue Harbor.

The Lantern Rite was ending, another celebration successfully done under the hard work of the Qixing

He gazed around at all the sights, the lanterns, the food stalls, the beautiful atmosphere of people enjoying the celebration.

No

He could never regret what he did.

Not since it lead to peace and happiness like this.

And

If things are as he suspects.

He may never have too.

He feels it once more.

The glow of the creator's blessing.

He can feel it swirling within him as he steps through Liyue Harbor.

He wonders if they can see it as he does. Sees the beauty and resplendence of humanity.

Look, he wants to scream

They are nothing like The Primordial One

They are good, kind and beautiful.

Humans may not be your creation, they may not have originated from this world but that does not mean they do not deserve to stay.

But he doesn’t

First of all because he feels that screaming these things in the middle of a busy street may attract some weird looks.

But also out of fear, fear that any attempt to disrupt this fragile peace could lead to destruction.

Because it is fragile, it has only been a couple of years since the creator has turned their eyes to Teyvat.

Those who have been blessed have been careful in their own way not to destroy this chance that the creator has given them.

A chance to prove themselves, not only as people deserving of their attention and blessing, but as a people.

To prove themselves just as worthy of the dragons of staying in Teyvat.

Because they all know, in their hearts of hearts, that what the creator has created, they could just as easily destroy.

While some may tease him for his age, there is no denying that with age comes experiences that the younger generation may never know.

He himself, whilst having been born long after the disappearance of the creator, witnessed firsthand how it had affected the world.

How Godly remains tainted the earth for far longer than it used to.

How miasma and abyssal energy started to leak forth.

How Leyline disorders became more and more commonplace.

Teyvat was breaking.

It was falling apart.

But perhaps.

With this new chance, it could be fixed.

He could still remember the day the creator first turned their gaze upon Teyvat.

Or well, more specifically, the first time they turned their gaze on him.

He had heard rumors of an outlander from Mondstatdt making their way to Liyue. Tales of their feats and defeating Dvalin with the wayward Anemo Archon were as prevalent as talks about the upcoming Rite of Descension.

He had taken note of it of course, outlanders were rare after all, but he hadn’t expected this one to be quite, consequential.

Not until he met them.

He felt their approach funnily enough, the unbranded aura they carried within them. While he could’ve written it off as an aspect of their outlander status, internally he knew it not to be true.

He was far too young to have ever met the creator, or even the original dragons.

But he has stumbled upon their remnants.

Pure remnants, unlike the gnosis which have been twisted and altered by the time it had spent in the hands of The Primordial One.

It was, indescribable.

Free, yet grounded.

Unwavering yet fluid.

Swift yet languid.

It

It simply was

It was the essence of Teyvat.

The essence of the land he lived and fought and bled and laughed in.

How could he not worship it.

How could he not fear it.

He had felt Childe walk in with bated breath, distracting himself with his cup of tea to settle his nerves.

What did this mean?

Was this the end of Liyue, of humanity, of Teyvat?

Over the centuries people have accepted the creator’s complacency in the affairs of Teyvat.

What does it now mean that they have focused their gaze once more on this land.

Destruction

Salvation

He daren’t hope or guess.

But

Well,

The Traveler was kind.

They had no ill will towards the people of Teyvat.

While it was clear they had their own mission to stove for, they did not hesitate in helping those they can along the way.

If the creator has blessed one such as them, one so kind to humans, one with no ill will.

Perhaps.

A seed of hope planted itself in him, and refused to budge.

As time went on, the seed grew.

Hope grew.

The tiny seed of hope that he tried so hard to ignore and deny could be ignored no longer when he received a blessing himself.

He could still remember it so clearly.

It was a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. He went to work, had tea, chatted with passersby.

There were no great feats.

No great revelations, or offerings.

Yet he felt it for the first time.

A blessing.

A pure, gentle, powerful blessing.

He could feel the sentiment behind it, weak as it was.

Relief, excitement, apprehension.

He wanted to cry, to pray. To thank them for giving him a chance, for giving the people of Teyvat a chance.

But fear held him back.

It still does to this day.

That’s the problem with gods, their pleasure and their wrath can often look the same.

Even as he compared notes with Barbatos and the Adepti, confirming that many of them have been given blessings.

While some like Ganyu, rejoiced in this blessing eager for a chance to prove themselves worthy of this world.

People such as him were still fearful.

Fearful of what this meant and what they wanted.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when he realized that xiangling was also blessed.

Not that the girl knew, after all the creator was very rarely spoken of, only ever mentioned in ancient rites and the most descriptive of history books.

But she had the blessing, a human.

From that point he saw so many others, so many humans, mere mortals given their divine blessing and gaze.

An exorcist, an author, a member of the Qixing.

It spread across Teyvat, whispers as people soon realized that there was a god, an unknown god blessing them.

Granting them abilities beyond their visions, oftentimes enhancing them to levels beyond previously known human limits.

No one dared to say their name, they were insinuations, and speculations, but no one dared disturbed the fragile peace that has settled.

It is an understanding between those who have it.

Those who know, know and those who don’t are kept in the dark.

But it seems that the Creator has turned their gaze to Teyvat and to humans.

~~~~

| Next Part

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Tell me what you guys think!

#genshin impact #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

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

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

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

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

[myechoecho]

Queen of Tears really just took a sharp nosedive off a very steep cliff these past 3 episodes. I didn't post anything about the last two episodes since there was nothing to say. I've had issues with some aspects of the drama that I could overlook because Hae In and Hyun Woo were top tier stuff. The break down of a marriage of two people who loved one another finding their way back to each other through medical crisis was so good. It didn't even need the Eun Sung or the family business stuff (it would have made a tighter, more coherent drama but I digress). But the last 3 or so episodes I've lost all patience. We've had:

Hae In's miraculous brain surgery which required no shaving of the hair, which I can overlook because it is a drama. Her memory loss too, as again, it's a drama and it's been hinted at since the beginning. I'm not necessarily thrilled with it but it's fine.

There is no way that Eun Sung would have suddenly become her legal guardian just because Hyun Woo left. It makes NO SENSE. Hae In was clearly there with Hyun Woo. They met with her doctors. There would have been forms and documents signed, with appropriate translators for any language barriers. Eun Sung would not have been able to waltz in and say I am her guardian now. I'm fairly confident of this even without knowing German law.

Hae In's family had people in Germany following her for...reasons??? They did nothing to protect her from Eun Sung? They didn't go to her when Hyun Woo was carted off? To be fair I was kinda fast forwarding part so maybe I missed something.

Hyun Woo's arrest, extradition back to South Korea, finding the evidence to break his case, trail, release and then arrest of the real perpetrator all took place within a month. Which seems absurdly fast. Also they found and arrested the hired hit man but not who hired him??

Hae In is following Hyun Woo, taking notes to figure stuff out for herself yet does not think to look herself up on the internet? Pretty sure there would have been articles about her saying Eun Sung threatened her?

I generally forgive the burned notebook finding its way back to her.

Also, Hyun Woo's sister is married? With a kid? Living overseas?? and we find this out in ep 13 or 14? No pictures of her kid anywhere?? No phone call?

Hyun Woon has been hit by car, by Eun Sung because of course that happened. At least he won't get amnesia, right? RIGHT?

What a mess.

I still stand by the core story of Hyun Woo and Hae In being the strongest parts, even within the past 3 episodes.

How much do you want to bet they are not even going to address the miscarriage, which was catalyst for their whole marriage falling apart in the final episode. Despite the 1031 being used for pass codes. I've been wanting that from when we found out and it looks like it won't happen. Who knows if Hae In will even get her memory back.

The preview for the final episode doesn't give me much hope, even if we get a nearly 2 hr final episode like Crash Landing on You.

So much wasted potential in the drama. If only they had focused on Hae In and Hyun Woo, and not 20+ other plots.

#queen of tears #kdrama

[vettelsvee]

THE BEST THING THAT'S EVER BEEN MINE | Sebastian Vettel

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sebastian vettel x race engineer gf!oc

summary: seb has lots of surprises for di because it is a very special day. however, di is so insecure about herself that she just thinks seb wants to break up with her.

word count: 7682

warnings: none! maybe just curse words, possible history series "spoilers" (however, at the beginning of the series you know they and up together, so...). lots of mentions to taylor swift. spanish words 100% real (as i’m spanish!) narrated on di's pov.

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as reblogs and comments, are truly appreciated!

I slowly opened my eyes and, still lying down, I began to stretch, moving from side to side. I reached out my hand towards the side of the bed where I supposed my boyfriend would still be, but all I felt was the cold of the morning seeping into every pore of my skin.

I sat up, fully opened my eyes and realized the guy wasn't there. Not there, nor anywhere in the room, not even in the bathroom despite its door being open.

A loud noise coming from downstairs and the smell of coffee were what set off the alarms. I decided to put on my slippers, throw on my robe and go down the stairs slowly, trying not to make noise and disturb Seb in whatever he might be doing.

I entered the kitchen and saw the blond guy with his back turned, holding the handle of a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other. Next to him, on the counter, was a plate with a couple of waffles, a bottle of ketchup, and a couple of jars with coffee and juice.

I knew Sebastian Vettel was romantic, but I also knew he liked to sleep like a log, so this could only mean that either I was dreaming or the RedBull golden boy wanted something from me.

That he wanted to do something nice for his girlfriend was the last thing on my mind.

I decided to approach him and hug him from behind, not even flinching at my unexpected contact. Without stopping paying attention to the scrambled eggs, almost ready, the German turned around and gave me a short kiss on the lips.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Did you sleep well?" he asked.

I just nodded with a murmur.

"If you let me, I can finish preparing breakfast," he asked, trying to push me away. "I've been awake for an hour and a half to make everything perfect so please, don't make me ruin it now."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Vettel."

I sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island and let myself fall onto it, not without noticing the bouquet of flowers in the center. Orchids and roses were mostly what it was made up of, although I could also spot a few daffodils. I realized that what held them all together was a cord with a small label with something written on it. Tempted, I was about to open it, but I ended up not doing it because I was convinced it would be some gift for Sebastian that was none of my business.

"Do you like it?"

The guy put a plate in front of me which, for what he usually did, was a masterpiece. A waffle covered with fruit on top and, beside it, scrambled eggs and some small containers with ketchup, whipped cream, white chocolate and dark chocolate.

I was mesmerized, not knowing what to say to him. It was the breakfast my mother used to make me on weekends and on some special occasions, like my birthday. I would even swear that the containers with the sauces on them were exactly the same. My gaze was fixed on the plate, unable to look away from it. It was quite strange that Seb knew about this because, beyond my sister and my late father, no one else got idea about this tradition.

"Di, love, are you listening?" he insisted, pulling me out of my trance.

"What?" I asked, completely distracted.

"The bouquet of flowers," Seb replied, pointing to the vase. "Although I also accept feedback on the breakfast."

"Let me taste it. You know you're not the chef of our wonderful couple."

Sebastian nodded, took a seat in front of me and patiently waited for my final verdict. I took my time to slowly taste everything even though I wanted to devour it eagerly. I made all sorts of combinations: chocolate with whipped cream and waffle, ketchup with scrambled eggs, and I even dared to mix chocolate and cream with eggs just to cough, give myself nausea, and provoke laughter from my boyfriend.

I drank some coffee to get rid of the bad taste that had lingered in my mouth while I couldn't stop thinking about how on earth he could know my mother's exact recipe.

"So, what's the verdict? Pass?"

I lifted my head to look at him and smiled. Not just approved: it was such a masterpiece.

"Definitely, sunshine. I mean, not just the breakfast, don't get me wrong," I hastened to add. "All of this is wonderful," I pointed to the breakfast and to him, "but..."

But I’m starting to have the strange feeling like there's something behind all of this.

"But what, sweetheart?"

That you're doing this because you want us to break up.

"Nothing," I rushed to reply, dismissing the fleeting thought that had just crossed my mind.

I knew Seb wasn’t pleased with my answer, but it seemed to be enough for him.

I continued having breakfast, and soon he joined me with a protein shake and an apple. I couldn't help but feel bad eating such a feast in front of him.

"And how do you like the bouquet?" he asked.

"It's very beautiful," I replied, covering my mouth so he wouldn't see it full. "Whoever gave it to you has a very good taste."

"Are you saying I have good taste?"

"What? Did you buy them?" I asked again.

"Of course. Who do you think would give me flowers?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "Any of the girls who chase you around the paddock, for example."

"Di: the bouquet is for you," he announced nervously.

I remained, once again today, in shock. Seb had left me speechless on many occasions, but today was simply too much.

I looked at the bouquet, looked at him, and looked back at the bouquet. His index finger pointed at the note. If I had noticed earlier, just as I was doing now, I could have seen, even if only vaguely, that it was his handwriting.

"Read the note, love."

Following his advice, I delicately took the card in my hands, trying not to break it and carefully untied the cord. When I opened it I could see that, in addition to something written in German, our mother tongue, it was accompanied by his signature, a poorly drawn heart and, of course, one of the happy faces he almost always used:

You told me I wouldn't have many firsts with you, but look: today is the first time I’ll give you flowers. I assure you there will be many more, my dearest paddock girl (although now I prefer calling you my beautiful girlfriend and, of course, my dearest race engineer).

My eyes filled with tears. Without thinking I turned around the kitchen island, running towards Seb, who was still sitting, and I threw myself at him to kiss him. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and his hands running down my back to my neck, pulling me closer without breaking our union.

We parted, breathless, a few seconds later, when we felt like we were running out of air. Our foreheads stayed together, and our gazes couldn't be torn away from each other's. A playful smile formed on Sebastian's lips, and I knew what he was thinking.

"Don't get so affectionate, Di. We have a lot to do today."

I pulled away from him and crossed my arms. He hadn't mentioned anything about that last night, not even when he convinced me to come spend a few days with him, knowing perfectly well that I couldn't just leave my job at the café during winter breaks like that.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what then."

He put his hands in his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that he didn't hesitate to offer me.

"I made a list because I didn't want to forget anything, You know I’m a mess," he explained as I quickly glanced over what it said.

Try to find the album Lara wants, but the limited edition version.

It made sense. Seb's sister was as obsessed with One Direction as I was with Taylor Swift.

Buy a notebook (mom told me it's good so I don't forget things).

I didn't continue reading because the rest seemed to be a shopping list that wasn't very important. I left it on the table, trying not to get it dirty with breakfast leftovers, and picked up the dishes, ready to wash them.

Seb quickly came over to me, taking them out of my hands and depositing them all in the sink. Without saying anything else, he came closer and gave me a quick peck on the lips followed by a loving slap on the butt.

"No, today my woman is not going to do anything, so you better go upstairs and check if there's anything on the bed."

Following his advice full of intrigue, I hurried upstairs to the bedroom and looked for whatever my boyfriend was eager for me to see. It was quite easy to find as the fluorescent pink color of the post-it note that was where my boyfriend had told me to look contrasted greatly with the snow-white sheets. Look at the white box in the closet, it was the only thing written, accompanied once again by another one of his smiley doodles.

I contained myself from opening the box in the closet. I carefully placed it on the bed and opened it in the same cautious manner just in case there was something unexpected. And indeed there was: to my surprise, I found the dress I had been wanting for so long.

I took it in my hands, stretching it over me as much as I could and letting the softness of the fabric envelop my fingers. It was even more beautiful than what I had seen in that shop showcase, and I didn't know how Seb had managed to get it because when I went to inquire about buying it, I was told it was sold out.

I could see that there was something deliberately hidden under the tulle that wrapped it. Carefully, I placed the garment on the bed and saw that it was the set of lingerie in black and green tones with floral details that I fell in love with the one time Britta and I went to Victoria's Secret out of curiosity.

It was more than obvious what the blond wanted me, us, to do, with this.

"Seb! Was all of this your idea!?"

I waited for an answer that never came. I shouted at him again, this time even louder, but once again silence was the only thing that answered for him.

I decided not to wait for an answer that I knew wouldn't come, so I hurried to dress in my new outfit, also changing my underwear and shoes to ones that would match my new outfit better.

When I arrived downstairs I could see Seb already waiting for me at the door leading to the garage with his car keys on his hand.

"It looks much better on you than I thought," he said, lost in thought. "You look like a real life Cinderella version, but a thousand times prettier."

I didn't know what to say to him because I didn’t know how to answer every time  I received a compliment from him. I thought that when we started dating I would get used to Seb constantly complimenting me, but two months later it still hadn't been the case.

I smiled shyly and lowered my head. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and led us towards his car.

"Did you like... that?"

"What do you mean by that, love?"

He knew perfectly well what he meant, same as me, but I wanted to play with him just as he seemed to be playing with me with so much mystery.

"You know..." he began, hesitating. "What, if I'm not mistaken, you're wearing underneath the dress."

"Oh, the bra and panties!" I exclaimed as I got into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt. "They’re perfect, Seb."

We remained silent for the first few minutes of the journey with only the daily news from one of the local radio stations playing in the background.

"Di," he called me again, shifting his gaze slightly towards me. I hated it when he did that. "Did you really like the lingerie set or was it too risky? I don't want our first Saint..."

After saying that last part, he chose to quickly shut up.

I hated it when he did that, especially when the thought that he was behaving like that because he wanted to break up with me had started to creep into my head.

"Seb, seriously, I loved it," I assured him, trying to keep calm and, at the same time, make him keep it too. "Britta, more than having good taste, has a good memory," I added.

"Who says Britta helped me?"

"It's too much of a coincidence that last month, when we met and went into Victoria's Secret out of curiosity, I complained about how expensive this was," I explained, pulling a strip of my bra out of the neckline of the dress to show him, "and how much I'd love to have it. And, today, you show up with the dress I'd been saving up for more than I'd have liked.”

Seb smiled sideways. It was more than obvious that he was the one behind all of this.

"Maybe I should talk to my PR about more mundane things than press conferences and stupid rumors," he confirmed.

"If you want, only if you want... I can show it to you later."

Thankfully, the traffic light was red. His face quickly turned towards where I was, turning his gaze back to the road because that's what I made him do with my hand. The light turned green again, and he continued driving.

His cheeks had turned a shade of red that I rarely saw on him. I wasn't going to deny that I didn't like seeing him like that.

"Easy, Di. We've waited three years to be together. I think we can wait a little longer to do you know what."

A few minutes later we parked in one of the farthest parking lots from the mall. As he usually did, Seb got out before me to open the door for me, which I thanked him for despite being dying of nerves.

"Well, what do we have to do?"

I started walking next to him, picking up my pace and taking his hand. I let go of the union immediately, and he gave me a look of pity. Except for some exceptions of our trusted people no one knew, for now, that we were dating, and we didn't intend to make it public for now.

He gave me a look of pity that pierced me like a dagger in the chest, and that only increased the thought that we were living our last hours together.

"I thought we'd go to the music store first," he commented, avoiding what had just happened. "Then I want to go to a stationery store that has opened and that I know that you’d... well, it has a lot of office supplies that you’d like," he finally said. "And I also want to go buy several things for our house in case we have special guests coming up."

I didn't want to ask more to avoid unwanted answers. I assumed that Hanna was one of those unexpected and special guests, but I couldn't, for now, face hearing him say that.

The first stop, as Seb had said, was the music store. As we entered a combination of violins and pianos made me relax almost instantly. A section of vinyl records right as we walked in caught his attention, especially because the majority of them were from his favorite band, the Beatles.

"You have no idea how long I've been looking for this," he began, taking one of them in his hands and analyzing it in detail, "but today we didn't come for this."

He let it go and headed to another section that seemed much more youthful. I stopped to look at the price of the vinyl version of Abbey Road, and I decided to take a picture of it to know exactly which one it was and if I could get it cheaper because the few savings I had were spent to come see him.

"Di, look! Do you like it?"

I spotted him a few feet away from me holding a stack of records. I decided to approach him to see what titles were there. Speak now, by Taylor Swift, was the one that caught my attention the most to the point that I let out a muffled scream of excitement.

"Do you like any?"

I knew he had noticed my reaction, but I acted as if nothing had happened. I continued browsing through the ones he had seemed to pick out, but besides the one by the American singer and Rihanna, none of them interested me.

Actually not, sunshine," I lied.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, knowing perfectly well that my previous behavior contradicted my response. He repeated the question, and I denied it again.

"Seb, really, I didn't like any of them," I insisted.

"If you say so... then, let's go. I didn't find the CD my sister wanted, so everything's done here."

"But isn't this the one you were looking for?"

I discreetly pointed out the limited edition of One Direction’s Up all night behind him that I had seen as soon as we arrived. I noticed him starting to feel uncomfortable. A nervous smile came out of his lips, biting his lower one while playing with his hair.

He was nervous, and I was starting to get even more nervous when I saw him like that. I would swear that if it weren't for the fact that we were in public, I would have panicked.

I tried to laugh it off to calm myself, but I stopped as soon as he took my arm and quickly led me to the store's exit.

"Hey you, calm down," I said once we were outside. "What's going on with you? Now you're in such a hurry?"

"Well," he looked at his watch and I imitated his action. Twelve fifteen. Great, almost lunchtime and we had only partially accomplished the first goal on the list. "I just remembered that my sister already had it."

"And why did we come then?"

He said nothing. His gaze landed on the ground and on his feet, fidgeting. That was another clear sign that he was lying to me.

"Seb, you know if you have something to tell me..."

"Stay here for a second. I'll be right back."

He didn't give me time to react because I saw him disappear again into the store. I was filled with curiosit.; I peeked several times through the shop window to see what he was up to and hid each time he seemed to see me. A few minutes later he came out of the store with a paper bag in his hands. I ran towards him to try to see what was in it, but as soon as I peeked to see the content, he changed hands.

"I'm not going to tell you anything for now," he said mysteriously. "You'll see it when the time is right."

"Come on, Seb..."

The pout I made to try to get him to reveal something, even if it was a miserable clue, was in vain both at that moment and in the following hours.

As we went through the stores Seb wanted to see, I realized that he seemed to have established some kind of routine. We entered together, wherever it was, under the excuse of buying something that appeared on Sebastian's list. Once we were inside my boyfriend only took a quick look around, asked me if I liked or needed anything, and then we left. Every time he asked me something, I answered with a firm no, but he ended up going back in, asking me to wait outside, and coming out with a bag.

It was more than clear that he was plotting something, and I had the feeling that it wasn't anything good. I tried to find the background of it all, analyzing every detail because even when we went to eat at one of my favorite restaurants, I couldn't think of anything else.

Vettel ate eagerly, enjoying something other than vegetables and grilled chicken. I, however, toyed with the plate of carbonara pasta in front of me while I couldn't stop thinking that all of this was the imminent end of our short love story.

Was Seb buying things for Hanna, and he didn't want to tell me?

"Di, what's wrong? You've been too quiet for a while."

I noticed the concern in his eyes. I smiled to avoid raising suspicions, but the truth was that all I wanted to do was cry.

"No, it’s ok. I'm just thinking about the day we’re having," I replied shortly, still staring at my food.

"You're acting very strangely, love. Are you sure you're okay?"

His insistence made me want to spill everything, but my judgment urged me to proceed with caution to avoid risking our relationship even more.

He set down his cutlery and reached across the table to take my hands. He cared much less than I did about who might see us, but I felt a twinge of anxiety. Surprisingly, that simple gesture calmed me a bit.

"Yes, really," I insisted, now looking at him. "I'm trying not to get nervous about whatever you seem to be planning for you know who."

My smile was too forced, and so was his. I knew my response didn't convince him, but it didn't convince me either.

And what about his expression? Nothing more needed to be said when I saw how he avoided looking at me and how his lips seemed to downturn.

"What do you think if we go to the movies after we finish eating? I know there's a movie you'd like to see."

"I don't know, Seb. Do you want to go to the movies with me because you feel like it or because you're trying to distract me from whatever you're hiding?"

My tone was more serious than I wanted it to be. I glanced at his face and knew that it had upset him.

I felt worse, constantly thinking that all this fuss was nothing more than a silly excuse for him to take me to accompany him to buy gifts for his new girlfriend, who happened to be his ex-girlfriend, and he was going to break up with me as soon as he could.

"Di, really, I just want to have a good time with you," he assured, knowing deep down that it was quite difficult.

"And why all this fuss? Why so much insistence that I come, specifically yesterday, to spend a few days with you? What are you hiding?" I asked, with pain in my words.

"I'm not hiding anything, darling, and I'm telling you completely seriously," my boyfriend sighed, trying to find the right words. "I just want today to be a special day for us. Why did I bring you then to a place where you like to eat? And to the movies? I know how much you like the cinema, just like I know you love Taylor..."

"What's with Taylor?" I asked, interested in what I assumed would be a mention of the blonde singer. "Swift, I guess," I added.

"What movie do you say you want to see?" he countered.

In the end, he chose it because I didn't feel like sitting for at least an hour and a half, staring at a screen. A Few Best Men was the chosen one, and even though it was one that he definitely wouldn't watch, he did it for me, just like he did when he paid for the tickets almost without giving me a chance to do it.

Once we were inside the movie theater, he directed me to the section with a large selection of candy and snacks and urged me to choose whatever I wanted.

"It's enough that you paid for everything today," I said shyly. "Lunch, the tickets, whatever you bought in the stores..."

For Hanna, not for you, I thought, trying to push that thought away as quickly as it came to my mind.

But Sebastian, as stubborn as he was, didn't accept my refusal.

"Come on, Di. Choosing food you crave is part of the routine of going to the movies," he said, as if we went to the movies daily. "I mean it, love. Choose whatever you want."

"I'm not hungry."

The blonde didn't say anything else. He simply approached where all the snacks were and started choosing for me.

"So, for my Di, let's get popcorn now," he began listing out loud. “Let's also get her a bag of licorice and another one of M&M's to mix with the popcorn..."

"And what about you, Vettel?" I asked curiously while trying not to laugh at how well he knew me.

"The usual: sweet popcorn and nachos with cheese."

Seb took the wide and, perhaps, not so varied selection to the counter to pay for everything. I tried to convince him to let me do it, but it was impossible once again, just like carrying all the goods to the theater. Some popcorn fell along the way, and we spilled so much soda on the floor that we were scolded.

The ads were already showing when we entered. With everything dark except for the light emanating from the screen, we took care not to fall as we made our way to our seats, which were in one of the corners of the highest row.

Seb sat next to me, and what I thought would turn into a session of incognito kisses turned into a whisper warning me that he was going to the bathroom.

"I won't take long, I promise," he assured me.

"Sure, go ahead."

Since I saw him get up and disappear from the room I couldn't concentrate on anything other than his departure, especially when I saw that minutes were passing by and he didn't return. During the first fifteen minutes, I tried my best to focus on the movie, but it was impossible for me no matter how much I tried to get interested. About half an hour later, I was already thinking about infidelity, unexpected encounters, and even, why not, that he had left me hanging.

Forty-five minutes after he left Sebastian returned, giving me a kiss on the lips that I didn't respond to with the same passion as usual.

"How's the movie darling?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

I took a deep breath before answering him. I didn't want to mess things up even though, perhaps, he deserved it.

"Fine."

"Are you enjoying it? Did I choose well?"

"Yes."

Seb seemed to notice my curt responses, but it's not like I wanted to hide them. He approached me, wrapping his arms around me, from which I escaped. The last thing I wanted in those moments was to have him close.

"Is something wrong, Di? You've been acting strange all day, love."

"Nothing's wrong, Seb. I'm just a little tired," I lied again, avoiding looking directly at him. Was I the one acting strange?

"I was thinking of going out to dinner," he said a bit... sad? "But if you want, we can go back home. Today, I'm completely at your disposal."

"I see," I commented ironically.

The blonde man gently took my hand.

"I was thinking of taking you to a newly opened Spanish restaurant," he whispered. "Would you like that?"

"I would love it," I declared. He had caught me there. Wherever there was Spanish food, everything else could go away. "But you know as well as I do that we shouldn't frequent public places if you want this," I pointed to both of us with my finger, referring to our relationship, "to stay between us and our closest family."

"We had lunch at a restaurant today and nobody saw us," he reproached, raising his voice a bit more than he should. Some people turned to look at us, and I tried to hide.

"Yes, and what time was it, three-thirty in the afternoon? Who the hell eats at that hour, Seb?"

His silence confirmed my point.

"Well," he continued, not letting me enjoy the movie, "then I'm afraid I'll have to change a part of my surprise. You're lucky I'm a Formula 1 driver and fast thinking is my thing," he said, trying to make me laugh and achieving just the opposite.

"Don't we already have a problem?"

"What problem are you talking about, Diana?"

That his tone had gone from relaxed to completely curt, and above all. That he called me by my full name was a bad sign, a very bad one indeed.

"Sorry," he spoke immediately, realizing that he hadn't answered me and that he certainly hadn't spoken in the best way. "It’s just that I’m getting nervous. I'm sorry," he repeated, making me feel a little guilty. "Everything I had planned is just one mess after another, and..."

"It's okay, Seb. Let's go to dinner," I ended up giving in, ignoring what I had just heard and even though hunger was the last thing on my mind at that moment.

Seb kept talking to me about a thousand different topics for the remaining time of the movie, and did the same on the way back to the car and throughout the journey to that restaurant called La Casa. As much as I felt bad because my boyfriend seemed to have lost his spirits, my mind kept playing tricks on me and it was nearly impossible to stop thinking that the bad news was going to come at any moment.

Now, as I waited for Seb to come out with the order, and hopefully with the food already in his hands, my stomach was a bundle of uncontrollable nerves.

"I ordered a little bit of everything," I had seen him coming from afar, but I turned in my seat when he opened the trunk. "I know Spanish food is your favorite because you grew up with it for most of your life," he explained as he placed the bags in the back of the car. I was about to interrupt him, but he asked me to be quiet. "I also ordered some Asian food, which they also had, I don't know why, and I know you love that too."

"But don't you remember anything you ordered?" I inquired with curiosity now that my hunger seemed to have returned.

"Just some croquetas and tortilla de patatas. I don't understand Spanish, my dear," he replied as he got behind the wheel and resumed driving down the road. "When we get to the lookout you'll have to explain everything to me in detail."

As we continued driving towards the place, unease grew in me at the same time. A desire to vomit integrated into my throat, accompanied by cravings that I didn't try to hide. With each turn Seb took, I swore that the little I had eaten that day, which was already more than digested, was going to be thrown up when I least expected it.

Sebastian Vettel, the guy I had been in love with since, possibly, the day he stayed overnight in my hotel room the night before his first victory, was going to break up with me, the girl he considered the love of his life, and for whom he left his ex-girlfriend.

Surreal, right?

The driver parked the car, got out quickly and didn't hesitate to open the trunk. He took out a much larger number of bags than I would swear to remember. Then, he unfolded a blanket and placed it on the ground, putting a couple more on top, I guess so we wouldn't get cold. He also placed some cushions from his house and a paper tableware with children's drawings next to what I would swear was the food he had just bought.

My surprise came when he took out a box much larger than the one this morning. As if it weren't enough that it was closed, it was wrapped in Cars-themed wrapping paper, and to top it off, it had a big red bow on it.

"What's all this about?"

My still boyfriend, with the box in his hand, gave me a bittersweet look, as if I were speaking to him in a language he didn't understand.

"Sebastian, I'm telling you seriously," I got even more serious. I saw he started to laugh, and I got even angrier with him. "Don't laugh, you asshole!"

"What are you talking about, Di?" he asked innocently while I hit him with slaps on the arm.

"About today. All day long," I reluctantly replied, which was the last thing I wanted given his expression, quite a poem. "First, I don't know how, but you get up much earlier than me and make me the exact same breakfast my mom used to make for me," I began to enumerate, trying to control my anger. "Then, you give me a list that we didn't end up using because you did whatever you wanted. And let's not forget that you left me alone in the movie theater to, of course, go anywhere but to the bathroom," I added angrily.

Seb was unable to process an appropriate response, and that's when I realized everything. I tried to control my tears, just as I had done all day long, but I couldn't do it anymore. As soon as my tears began to fall down my face, I saw the pilot leaving the box he was holding on the ground, and coming closer to me to hug me. At first, I resisted, but I gave in when, once again, his arms became my refuge.

"The day I asked you out I told you we were going to have many first times, do you remember?" he said softly. I nodded, remembering how nervous I was all that day. "Don't you want us to celebrate our first Valentine's Day together in a special way?"

Valentine's Day.

Today was February 14th.

It couldn't be true.

I quickly moved away from Seb and looked around. Now everything made sense.

Everything he had been preparing was for me... or at least, that's what I believed.

"What do you mean Valentine's Day?" I blurted out, unable to hide my surprise.

"Well, Valentine's Day, Di. You know: the day when couples, or almost couples, or I don't know, do things for each other, and..."

"So you don't want to break up with me?"

I let it out so quickly, without letting him finish speaking and without thinking. I burst into tears once again. Now I felt much stupider than before, but above all, I felt bad because I had earned the title of the worst girlfriend in the world. Seb had done all this for me, and all I had done was pay him back by speaking badly to him, thinking he was cheating on me and of course, not buying him the vinyl he wanted.

"Break up with you?" I knew that right now he probably wanted to tell me anything but nice things. That he had hugged me again, and, above all, that his voice conveyed calm said a lot about him. "Di, where do you get those ideas from?"

"It's just that..." I inhaled and exhaled before looking up at him. I couldn't speak badly to him again, especially not for something that had been the result of my insecurity. "Everything today made me think you wanted to end it. The breakfast, leaving me stranded at the cinema... I thought you were getting ready to tell me you were getting back with Hanna," I finished saying.

Seb, after hearing that, held me even tighter against his chest.

"Di, I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way," he apologized. "All of this was to do something special for our first Valentine's together, not to ruin it. I know I messed up, and you have no idea how much I regret losing control over certain things because it's the last thing you deserved."

He seemed quite repentant, and that made me feel even worse.

"Do you want to see what's in here?" he said, pointing to the box still on the ground. "I've prepared it for you," he whispered shyly. "I just hope you like it; if not, you can tell me without any problem."

"I haven't bought you anything," was all I could reply.

"It's okay, Di. I prepared all this for you because I wanted to, and also because you deserve it, not because I wanted anything in return."

I tried not to overthink anymore. I sat on the ground, on the blanket and beside the box. With my hands slightly trembling, I started to slowly tear the wrapping paper. Seb sat next to me, too close, giving me an unexpected kiss on the cheek and not bothering to move an inch away from me.

The first thing I saw was a pile of confetti, which I didn't hesitate to push aside, revealing a wide variety of all kinds of sweets, especially my favorites, along with small details of stationary supplies that I remembered seeing in that stationery store and that had caught my attention.

In the center were two small gifts wrapped as well as possible, each with an envelope attached with my name, written perfectly in light blue capital letters.

"This is too much, Seb," I honestly exclaimed, turning to him. "Now I understand why you've been asking me if I liked certain things and then you would return to the stores just to come out with a bag that you wouldn't let me see..."

"I know it's been very wrong on my part, but I think the little scare I gave you was worth it. Just look at the beautiful and happy face you have right now," he revealed, laughing, squeezing my cheeks.

And here I was, thinking he was going to break up with me...

Definitely, I didn't deserve Sebastian Vettel.

"First, you have to read the note from the envelope carefully," the German explained carefully, "and then try to guess what it could be."

"And after all that, can I open it?" I innocently asked, although the answer was more than obvious.

"Of course. Here, try this one first."

He took the rectangular gift and handed it to me. Before reading anything, I started to make assumptions about what it could be, but I was so overwhelmed that I decided to finish my task within a few seconds.

With eagerness, I carefully opened the envelope so as not to tear it because I was going to keep it until the end of time to remember this day, and, with a bit of optimism, to be able to show it to our children someday if we were still together.

"Can you read it out loud for me, princess? I don't remember what it says."

You said that, fortunately or unfortunately, you had finished the first gift I gave you. I hope this second part is as good, or even better, than the first one," I read aloud and clearly. "P.S.: I hope from now on you write more, and better, about me.

I looked up and saw Seb smiling.

"Do you know what it could be?" he wanted to know.

Of course I did.

"Di's diary, part two."

He didn't say anything else although his half-smile had formed almost automatically, saying it all. With a slight nod of his head, he gave me the go-ahead to open it, and so I did. As soon as I got rid of the wrapping paper I saw a notebook that I would now use as a diary, and which, like the previous one, had a plain color and a photo of us after the victory of his first world championship, our first photo, in Polaroid format.

"Seb... I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything yet because there's another one here."

He handed me the second gift. This one had the form of a square and, by feeling it, I realized it didn't have just one envelope, but two. This second one, on the back, was much larger. Before I could take a look, Seb removed it and hid it behind his back, as if he were a little kid not wanting anyone to take away a candy from him.

"First the small one, which is the one you'll like the least," he clarified in a childish tone.

"Okay, okay..."

Just as I did with the previous one, I carefully tore open the envelope, opened it, and read the note out loud:

I see sparks fly whenever you smile. Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down.

It couldn't be true.

I was so excited that I didn't even make guesses about what it could be. I tore the paper, now eagerly and with so much force that I saw an album falling to the ground.

As soon as I read Speak now on the cover, and saw a blonde girl wearing a purple dress, I let out a muffled scream.

“Taylor Swift's albums, Seb?! Seriously?!”

Taylor Swift and Fearless were also in the small package, and now the excitement was overwhelming. I screamed like I hadn't in a long time. I stood up, and seeing Seb doing the same, I threw myself into his arms and kissed him like I had never kissed him before, like he truly deserved to be kissed.

"If you're like this over three albums, how are you going to react when you see this?"

Without saying anything else, he handed me the larger envelope.

I hesitated whether to take it or not because his face was totally expressionless, although his eyes hinted that he was eager for me to know what was inside.

Tickets for the Speak Now World Tour. Impossible.

"Seb, tickets have been sold out for quite a while now..." I stuttered, unable to look him in the eyes because I didn't want him to see me cry over this. "You know I've been looking everywhere for months and haven't found anything..."

"Well, but you're lucky to have found a boyfriend who’s a Formula 1 driver and has certain privileges," he said, forcing us to hug each other. "I think you already know how we're going to celebrate the fourth anniversary of the day we met."

"You still remember?"

I pulled my head from his chest to look at him. His eyes were shiny, probably like mine were. The moment I saw him nod was when I couldn't contain my tears, and he couldn't control his either.

"How could I forget the day I met you, Di? It was March 13th, I'll never forget it," I was surprised he remembered, but what could I expect from this guy? "You met me in 2008, and in 2012 I promise you'll meet Taylor as surely as my name is Sebastian. Since we have to go to Australia for the first Grand Prix of the year it's no problem if we leave a few days earlier."

"You must be kidding," was all I could say in a voice so low that only I heard it.

I remained standing even as I saw him sit down and start to open the bag containing the takeout food he had ordered.

"Di, I don't know what you'd prefer first, so I'll put a bit of everything on the plate for you, and if you don't want more, I'll eat it myself or we can save it for tomorrow, okay?"

I sat down beside him, perhaps too close for us to be able to dine quietly and comfortably, but in those moments, I think neither of us cared in the slightest.

"I'm really sorry I didn't get you anything sunshine," I said as I picked up a glass of gazpacho. "Honestly, I completely forgot, and I won't lie to you: I've never celebrated Valentine's Day, so..."

"Don't worry about that, Di. Don't you dare to think about gifts or anything," he interrupted, leaving his plate of food on the blanket and wrapping his arms around me, taking my chin and forcing me to look at him. "From now on, we're going to celebrate everything," he stole a kiss from me and then pulled away. "But I don't want you to give me anything, alright? The best gift not only for Valentine's Day, but for life, is you, and nothing and no one in the world will surpass you, okay?"

"Okay, sunshine."

"Di," he called me a few seconds later as he started eating. "You're the best thing that’s ever been mine.”

I smiled and ate, trying not to choke, enjoying Seb's effort to sing Mine as best as possible while also trying to keep the piece of tortilla in his hands from breaking.

I felt happy, and I was afraid it would be snatched away from me at any moment. I allowed myself the luxury of not thinking about it, and as our voices joined together in unison in the chorus of the song, I couldn't help but think that on days like today, my boyfriend, my partner, the only person who had trusted me to rise in Formula 1, the blond German who had hurt me only to fix it afterwards, the one I risked considering the love of my life, was the one who made everything worthwhile.

#formula 1 #f1 #sv5 #sebastian vettel x reader #formula 1 imagine #vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #formula one #sebastian vettel #Sebastian Vettel x oc #saint valentine #Sebastian Vettel x fem oc #Sebastian Vettel fluff #fluff #history sebastian vettel #history series #history #Sebastian Vettel history #Sebastian Vettel imagine #Sebastian Vettel one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Three

☁︎ notes: sorry it took so long to get this one out 💛

Clementia really is the goddess of mercy and healing but I made up the part about the feathers. There will be more half real/half made up references to mythology so buckle in lol also Eris is kind of Cardan-coded in this chapter

☁︎ warnings: talk of injuries, talk of Beron's abuse, drunk characters

☁︎ word count: 1.9k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove

The ring summoned Aya again nearly a week later, just as she had finally made it back to her dorm room in the Healer’s wing. Lessons had run late, after which she had been called to a family dinner by Thesan. Her feet were sore and the pair of clean pajamas waiting on her bed called to her. Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of what sort of injuries had prompted that ring to glow, regret sinking its claws deeper into her gut. Another long night of keeping Eris’s soul tethered to his being?

She heaved a deep sigh, shouldered her bag once more, and winnowed away from her cozy room.

The designated winnow spot was in Edana’s private courtyard, surrounded on all four sides by her rooms. The Lady had carved a spot out of the wards - or had bribed someone to do it. Edana or one of her two trusted guards were to wait for Aya in the courtyard. The written copy of the bargain details instructed that if anyone else were to ever greet her, she was to winnow back to the Dawn Court without speaking to them.

All very calming, naturally.

Tonight, one of Edana’s guards met Aya in the courtyard, which she considered a good sign. The guard did not say anything, only nodded in greeting before turning on his heel. Aya shivered in the Autumn chill and trailed after him. No one had told Aya the guards’ names yet, and she was too shy to ask. They were a little intimidating, stone-faced and armed to the teeth. Obviously, they cared about Edana's safety a great deal, and she had not stopped to wonder what they thought of the Lady hiring a strange healer and adding her piece to this hidden game board.

The dark-haired man led her through Edana’s sitting room to the stone passageways. She followed him through the dim, winding halls, finding them to be as deathly silent as the first night. She was beginning to wonder if the whole house had a curfew, or if they had all simply adopted this code of silence as a means of survival. Everything had been tainted such a suspicious color after that first night.

His feet made no sound against the stone floor, even in those heavy, clunky-soled boots. Aya followed suit, keeping her steps light, though her satin slippers would not have made much noise anyways.

When she crossed through the wards into Eris’s rooms, a wall of commotion wrapped itself around her, such a contrast from the silent hall that it made her jump. Eris was cursing and arguing with his mother, the second guard attempting to aid her in holding him down. Aya’s widened eyes flicked to the couch by the hearth where a bruised and bleeding man lay unconscious. Or sleeping. He was nearly a copy of Eris - redheaded and tall, with broader shoulders and bulky muscles.

“They got drunk and had a fight,” Edana sighed as Aya made her way to the big bed.

“Bastard had it coming,” Eris spat loudly, trying again to free his arm from his mother’s grasp."

“Stay still,” Edana snapped, “You were stabbed, for Mother’s sake.”

Aya gasped at that, and Eris turned his head toward the sound. He had not even noticed her come in, too focused on earning his freedom. When his gaze landed on the healer he let out a cry of delight and held a bloody hand toward her without even so much as wincing.

“All is well,” Eris pronounced, “Clementia has arrived.”

“Hush,” Edana hissed, “Or your father will hear you.”

Aya’s skin felt hot, her stomach dropping in fear of the knowledge that the High Lord was at home tonight. She chewed her lip and set her satchel on the edge of the bed. Eris was still as a statue now, watching her with interest.

“Clementia is an angel of mercy,” Edana said to Aya, rolling her eyes as other guard chuckled. “He likes to read mythology.”

Aya’s cheeks burned and she looked down at the heir, his amber eyes fixed on her. She shook her head and grabbed a wet rag from the side table. She was familiar with Clementia’s legend but she had not made the connection of who Eris thought she was.

“Did you receive my prayer of thanks?” Eris asked, a hand clutched to his chest like he must brace himself in her presence. He still did not wince as she pulled up his shirt and began to clean his injury. It was shallow for a stab wound, but it certainly would not heal well if he started thrashing around again. She could humor him if it meant he stayed calm.

The second guard, blond and bearded, started to laugh at Eris’s smitten gaze, but Edana shot him a look that shut him up. The Lady turned her attention to her other son, out cold on the couch.

“Yes,” Aya said to Eris, gently moving away the hand that attempted to cover his wound. His bloody fingers wrapped around hers and held on. It was likely he was so drunk that he was not feeling the full effect of his injury. “It was lovely. Please stay still, Eris.”

“Yes, angel,” Eris breathed.

Aya kept her eyes on her work and did not dare look at the glowering Lady or her giggling guardian. She knew it sounded like a pet name. But she didn’t think she minded much, not with how lovely it sounded falling from his lips.

Eris stayed quiet now, obedient to her every command. He watched her with such reverence in his eyes, as if still surprised she had appeared, worried she may go away again at any moment. If only he knew she was just another healer from the Dawn Court, no benevolent angel of mercy.

She wondered if he’d ever truly know her or if all of their meetings would be this way - inebriated or delusional from blood loss. And she hoped for both their sakes that the next time would be different. And maybe a part of her hoped to meet him in a state where she could really learn something about him. Something to compare to the rumors. All she knew at the moment was that he liked mythology. And that he fought like a hellcat when drunk.

“Beron would not approve of them fighting, would he?” She asked as she worked, her voice soft. Every movement tracked by those diligent amber eyes.

“Not in this manner, no,” Lady Edana answered, returning to Eris's bedside, “Not without his command, at least. He sees more honor in besting each other with strategy.”

Of course he would. Only Beron’s hand could inflict pain. That was how he stayed in control. Everyone else must impress him by playing his games perfectly. Aya had never expected to gain so much knowledge about the Autumn Court’s High Family and everything she learned made her more grateful for her own court and Thesan’s gentle rule. It also illuminated another aspect of Edana's secrecy.

This foolish behavior was a stark contrast to the tales and rumors of the Autumn sons, with their father’s brutality and their mother's brains. It certainly dimmed the intimidation to see that hulking brother passed out, mouth open and drooling on the velvet couch. Whatever Aya saw gave her power. And that golden ring took it away again. Edana did not yet know that she had picked someone with such an ambivalent heart. Capable of indifference and yet undecided.

When Aya finished dressing Eris’s wound and cleaning his filthy hands, she slipped a sleeping pill into his water and gave his shoulder a pat.

“Sleep well Eris,” She said, eager to get away from his relentless stare. Then she turned back and added sharply, “And listen to your mother.”

She shifted, about to make her way to the brother on the couch, but Eris’s voice stopped her.

“May I have a feather?” He asked, his voice remarkably soft compared to his terrible volume control from before.

“What?” Aya asked, hoping their audience did not notice the break in her voice. She knew the myth. That Clementia bestowed a feather upon her favored for luck.

“May I have a feather for luck?” He asked again, the gleam in his eye so hopeful it was almost painful.

For a moment, she considered it. It wouldn’t mean much, it would quiet him down and that would be that. But the weight of the Dawn Court customs would not release her. The tips of her ears grew hot, thinking of plucking a feather and handing it to him. Feathers were for honor, promises, and love. Even in the far friendlier, casual environment of her court, it wouldn't be seen as appropriate.

“You’re lucky enough just to be in her presence, you oaf,” Edana muttered, shaking Aya from her stupor. Eris frowned but he didn’t argue. He looked resigned, like he agreed with his mother's sentiment.

Aya silently thanked Edana and turned her attention toward the couch once more. The brother was not in terrible shape, with just a scattering of bruises and small cuts that would heal by morning. Luckily, he was far too drunk to remember anything by tomorrow. She hoped that Eris would not remember any of this either.

She had not failed to notice Eris’s split knuckles and she wondered what this brother had said to provoke him so. She might have asked, as they had humored all of her questions so far. But it seemed that neither Lady Edana nor her guards wanted to meet her eye as she inspected the younger Vanserra. As if there was something about this fight they were not saying. Or perhaps they were just embarrassed.

Aya told herself she did not care either way. She had decided, throughout the course of this visit, not to ask any more prying questions or sleuth or try to solve anything. She could not help her curiosity, but Thesan had ordered her not to meddle. And every answer to every question sat heavy like a stone in her heart. She did not want to carry all of that with her, anyways. So she finished patching up the anonymous brother, left a tonic one for the now-sleeping Eris, and returned to the comfort of the Dawn Court.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Eris’s shame pestered him as incessantly as his headache. Twice now, this poor healer had had to witness him in such a pathetic state. Gods knew what he had said last night. His mother wouldn’t tell him. She told him it was his punishment for being so foolish that he had to wonder what embarrassing things he may have said.

The only hint he got was in the note the healer had left him, beside a tin of fresh balm for his scars and a tonic for the hangover.

Drink lots of water, avoid stretching your wound. I look forward to your next prayer of thanks.

Your angel,

Aya

Eris blushed and cursed himself for it. He hadn’t known her name and had gotten into the habit of referring to her as Clementia in his mind. It must have slipped out.

He remembered little glimpses of what she looked like. Warm brown skin, eyes of lilac-grey, and small, capable hands. His fingers went to the wound in his side. Once again, he had been healed impeccably. This one had left a scar barely an inch long.

He had yet to thank her for all that she’d done and he wished that he could. But he did not know where to reach her or what a proper gift might look like.

Without him even realizing, without even having property met, she had begun to haunt his thoughts. Like a guardian angel, only a shadow of wings at the edge of his vision.

#acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #eris fanfic #eris fanfiction #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #acotar oc #dawn court oc #acotar healer oc #eris acotar #eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #dawn court #dawn court healer oc #the dawn court #thesan #autumn court #the Autumn Court #lady of autumn #the lady of Autumn #beron vanserra #vanserra brothers #the benevolent #acosf

[kelocitta]

Hello! I love your use of geometric shapes and saturated colors in your illustrations. Which artists influence your work?

Honestly while I can name a lot of artists who serve as some sort of inspiration for things like creature design or color, I can't really place ones for specifically the geometric aspect! I'm sure there are some out there, but I think a large part of specifically that is probably just me personally liking balanced/clean/symmetric stuff along with most of my sketch papers growing up being gridline paper, so doing sharp geometric shapes was common. I also tend to think of my lineless art as similar to layered paper art, which has to be physically cut out. Its sort of one of the reasons I reuse colors often? Like you'd reuse the same piece of paper

Color wise I pull a lot from my friends, save a lot of art I think does interesting stuff with colors, etc. Generally I might skip through a couple artworks for a good "starter" color or a palette I like and go from there, adjusting it for personal preference. All the parts are drawn in little individual bits, so I can change them all independently. So often I have colors in mind at the beginning, but don't actually pick them till the very end. Here's some pieces to show how that gets fiddled with

And if you go back far enough, everything starts as a yucky mash of whatever colors made it easiest to tell one piece from another with zero regards to palette

I just really like bright saturated colors and honestly just kinda feel it out from there. Sometimes that's making it brighter sometimes that's making it a little more washed out. Sometimes I decide what I was going for doesn't actually look as nice as I thought. It's sort of hard to name inspirations directly because so much of what I do I do effectively by feeling, and I have piss poor memory so naming exacts is real hard. If I tried to list people whos art I think about a lot we'd be here all day. I know a lot of my recent stuff has had more direct inspo from Boxheadpaint who has just amazing shape language (but almost the exact opposite of 'geometric' but I try and match their vibe a lot when I'm trying to draw a little looser and less stiff. Also looooove how they texture stuff)

#ask #t.extpost

[scekrex]

Out for love but Adam and Lute sing it while training the exorcists and it's "out for blood"

And in one phrase Adam goes something like "I know you're hopin' for peace, Y/N / You're out for love / But you'll only stand a chance if you're out for blood" (basically the reversed version of what Camilla sings to Vaggie) and Reader just channels all the rage he has stored up inside of him and accidentally kills one of the exorcists. Adam finds that highly sexy despite being a little mad at him for killing one of his girls

Got you🤌🏻

Out for Blood

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, canon typical violence, character death

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Your jabs were weak, your punches were soft and whenever you were attacked, you dodged the attack and waited for your opponent to attack again instead of fighting back. The exorcists were after killing demons, you were not. While the idea of rehabilitation didn’t sit fully right with you, you were not out for blood.

Adam and Lute watched you with careful eyes, the white haired woman had crossed her arms over her chest and was talking to Adam as you dodged another attack by your chosen opponent, the woman you were fighting against was quick, her moves were perfectly timed and yet she did not manage to land a hit - in your book that counted as a win, in Lute’s book it didn’t. “Stop it,” the lieutenant yelled and the exorcist that had been selected to train with you stopped in her tracks. You turned your head in order to look at Lute and find out what you have been doing wrong, but before you could do so Adam was all in your face, the first man grabbed your chin and tilted your head upwards.

“I see you're driven by your devotion, your every move is filled with amity,” the first man spun you around, in the process of doing so he disarmed you, the weapon you had been holding in a firm grip was torn from your hands and tossed aside. In confusion you watched as Adam made his battle ax appear, the golden weapon that could also be used as an instrument was swung in your direction and you took a quick step sideways to prevent getting cut by it. Its sharp blade missed you by an inch as the leader of the exorcists continued, “You need a different type of motivation, or there’s no way that you can handle this.” In a fluent motion the angel moved to your back, his weapon he used to pull you against his chest, proving the point that dodging will get you nowhere in the end. The handle of his weapon that was also a guitar neck at the same time was pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. He bent down, his mouth close to your ear, “I know you’re hopin’ for peace, Y/N, you’re out for love.” You grabbed the guitar neck firmly, pushed your feet off the ground until they reached the level of Adam’s head, you pressed your head through the little space between the weapon’s handle and Adam’s chest, losing your mask in the process of doing so. Your legs were hooked over the first man’s shoulders and with momentum you got your entire body up on his shoulders. Your crotch was right in front of Adam’s face now and while normally you’d feel embarrassed by the type of intimacy this position brought, right now was not the time to care for such little things.

“But you’ll only stand a chance if you’re out for blood,” the first man sang as he grabbed a hold of your legs, effortlessly lifted you off of his shoulders and slammed you onto the ground. Your back hit the pavement hard, not even your feathered wings helped to soften the crash, yet you wasted no time and got back up on your feet again. You dodged another hit from Adam as you picked up the weapon he had taken from you in the beginning. “Think of who you’re gonna hurt, attack ‘em and be out for blood,” a grin appeared on the mask of your leader and his eyes glitched at the sight of you picking up the weapon to fight for real now. Adam was quite positive that he had pushed you far enough now, that you would hurt and kill at his command and drop your act of fighting without spilling any blood. “You’re gonna fight without trust, long as you're out for blood,” Adam glanced at Lute, the white haired woman was curiously watching to where this would lead to, yet the first man knew she saw the talent and potential in the way you moved. You barely left Adam time to recover with how quickly you were dodging attack after attack, if you were to strike back, you would be able to finish off more sinners than Lute during the upcoming extermination and Adam longed to see that, he wanted to see you on the battlefield in hell, covered in the blood of countless sinners. And just as he was about to swing his battle ax again, you made use of your weapon and swung it in his direction before he could execute another attack. You almost sliced the first man’s neck, yet Adam had been just as quick to dodge your attack as you had been when it came to dodging his.

“Fuel yourself with the feeling of hatred, towards someone that you will outlive,” the taller male leaned in close, the front of his mask almost touching your face and before you knew it he grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulled you with him as he straightened his back and you found yourself stumbling towards the first man, that had totally caught you off guard. “Remember the reason why you’ve been created, to fight with all you can give,” before Adam was able to pull you in entirely, you spread your wings, pointed your weapon towards him, the tip of the blade was positioned under his chin as you ripped your arm from his grip and unmasked the first man by doing so. The exorcists around you gasped and even Lute held her breath for a moment - did you overstep? Given that Adam continued your little session without any sign of discomfort, she guessed not, yet it felt wrong to watch the brunette fight without his mask. His hair was just as sweaty as yours and clung to his forehead, that did not irritate him in the slightest, “I know you’re hopin’ for peace, Y/N, you’re out for love,” he twirled his battle ax with ease and you were sure he was just showing off, so you took that as your chance and pushed yourself off the ground, if this fight were to end, it would end in the air. Adam was quick to join you, he caught up on your plan instantly, “But you’ll only stand a chance if you're out for blood.” The first man rushed towards you as he swung his weapon yet again, leaving a deep cut on your inner forearm, yet the adrenaline kept you up, the pain was not stopping you. Adam wanted proof that you were good enough to execute his orders as he pleased? Then you would deliver him the proof he wanted.

A thing you had not expected was for Adam to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you back to the ground with him after hurting you. So you found your feet hitting the ground sooner than expected, you were about to defend yourself against your leader yet again, but the taller male shoved you in the direction of your former opponent, the woman was launching towards you the second you had realized what Adam had intended with that little move. “Think of who you’re gonna hurt, attack ‘em and be out for blood,” the brunette continued as he leaned onto Lute’s shoulder, watching the new started fight with more excitement than before, this time he was actually interested.

You bashed towards the woman who was assigned your fighting partner, to her surprise you rushed past her, as you did you your arm hooked itself around her throat, sending her crashing down onto the ground. The angel made a pained noise and the expression on her mask only underlined the pain she must be feeling, but you were too far gone, too caught up in what Adam had told you to do. You were filled with hatred, there was not a single rational thought in your mind, only Adam’s voice made it through the thick clouds of hate, “You’re gonna fight without trust.” As the woman wanted to get up, you pressed your foot onto her chest, preventing her from doing so, the tip of your weapon was pointed towards her neck and you watched in delight as her eyes widened. The first man was not able to tear his eyes off the scene, he wanted to see how far you would go for him. “And if you have to adjust,” the tip of your weapon lifted her mask from her head, just like you had done to Adam’s earlier, “Yeah, you will turn ‘em to dust.” Golden blood was spilling from wounds your weapon had created and as the brunette sang the last line, “Long as you’re out for blood,” you beheaded the woman that you had pinned to the ground, causing the other angels to shriek in panic. Not Adam though, no. He was walking towards you and while the others must have thought he was gonna punish you for killing one of his exorcists, he picked up his mask and put it back on, then he collected yours and handed it to you. With a proud look on his face he leaned his forearm onto your shoulder and looked down at the angelic corpse, “That was so fucking hot.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[figofswords]

I feel like gender nonconformity is often taken to mean like. presenting as the opposite of whatever your assigned gender is. like as an afab lesbian if I want to be gnc that means I have to dress super masc. but I think for me at least gender nonconformity is more about completely divorcing yourself from any expectations of gender presentation one way or the other. I can dress masc or femme or androgynous, I can wear makeup or not and shave my pits but not my legs, I can be whatever I want to be on any given day without regard for what I’m “supposed” to wear. when I first started really thinking about my relationship with gender there was a period of time where I felt to be valid I had to dress really butch or it didn’t count, and if I wore a skirt that meant I’d been faking it. but I didn’t WANT to dress super butch all the time. I didn’t want to be butch or femme or androgynous or or or or, I wanted to wear what I wanted when I wanted. ultimately I gave up trying to pin down and put a name on my gender identity. I said to hell with it all. my pronouns are what they are and I dress however I dress and I don’t owe it to anyone to define any of that. my gender nonconformity isn’t a nonconformity with femininity specifically; it’s a nonconformity with any sort of gendered rules of presentation. and that was a really freeing thing to figure out. and I think that in online queer communities there’s really this pressure to put a label on everything and to identify as a specific thing and to prove your validity within your identity. non-binary doesn’t have to mean androgynous. gnc doesn’t have to mean butch. and I guess this pride month I’m just really thinking about that, that really all that being queer is about is saying a big fuck it to it all and just…existing, however you want to exist. wear what makes you feel good. be whatever makes you feel good to be. to hell with it all.

#ok to rb #idk where this came from I am just musing #I think also there’s this level of like. I deleted TikTok bc seeing the nonbinary teens on that app made me feel….bad #bevause they were all skinny and conventionally attractive and could pass for androgynous #I’m never going to pass for androgynous. I’m all hips and boobs. I’m curvy as hell and my voice is high pitched and I’m five feet tall #and it made me almost nauseous seeing this idea of what non-binary or gender nonconformity was supposed to look like #but in real life it’s not like that. gnc people look like a million shades of the rainbow #and it’s important to not make gender nonconformity into just another box you have to fit into #after taking gender studies classes I came to this conclusion like #its all made up to begin with. it’s real but it’s made up #so if gender is just a set of rules we agreed on as a society #then there ARE no rules and gender can be whatever you make it #and there’s a real relief to that

[ricketycr1cks]

Reject modernity- Dee got mean after the roller skating incident

Embrace tradition- she was always mean and the nickname sweet Dee was supposed to be ironic

#or it was like a family nickname or something #I liked it being not explained #it made the dynamics seem more real yk #like they had so much history we would never get to see #I also simply don’t believe the group could have all been friends if they hadn’t have all been a little fucked up from the beginning #like no way this really nice girl was friends with Ronnie the rat drug dealer and Charlie Kelly certified freak #and was like that the whole time #everything after season 12 is rcg April fools day to me it simply doesn’t really exist #there are some great moments from 13 on but uh… #so much of it leaves more questions than answers #I could write paragraph analyses of this show dude #dee reynolds #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #Charlie Kelly #frank reynolds #its always sunny in philly #its always sunny in philadelphia #iasip #iasip s15 #iasip charlie #iasip dee #iasip mac #iasip dennis #iasip frank #source: iasip #also could write a dissertation on how the incident with frank catalyzed into Dennis’s relationship with women but #that’s for another day

[emblazons]

The fact that I’ve been searching for true and actual positive reactions to the mlvn romance from the duffers and have yet to find a single comment about it 12 pages and 20 min deep into a search is absolutely wild to me fr.

Like…I literally typed in the duffers, Mike and Eleven, “romance” + other keywords…and not only was there never more than anything vague, by the second page of google (even when i filtered byler) it was always talking about how there was either a platonic inspiration or an issue between them…or how they switched to some other duo or grouping (especially in S2/S4) because it more compelling when they got to the writing.

Those brothers can’t stand that ship for real 😭😂

#‘they would never break up the flagship couple’ #‘their love was real from the beginning’ #y’all better tell the duffers that LMFAOOOOO #they’ve been trying to undermine them every single way since SEASON ONE and folks have just ignored ALL OF IT #‘they’re ET and Elliot’ ‘they’re star crossed lovers’ ‘its bullshit' from their friends + never getting romantic bonding that sticks #will you be like my BROTHER coming right before their first kiss...and every 'ily' being family-coded + NEVER SAID AT THE SAME TIME?! #even got Matt refusing to say anything but ‘Mike HAS to take el to the snowball’ and Ross calling it the ‘IDEA’ of a first crush after S2 😂 #they keep trying to tell y’all a romantic interpretation is the wrong one from the GET and people miss it STILL #I wouldn’t even be surprised if they made them related for real via wheeler/creel parallels just out of spite 😂😂 #ANYWAY #anti mlvn #this is the worst hiatus in existence but oh well lol #my st commentary #duffer brothers #stranger things

[cutemeat]

never wont lose my mind over Glenn’s choice to frame the scene like this and have Mac pointing towards Dennis before delivering the line “yeah.. that’s the one.” like OK!!! OK!

#macden #macdennis #the beginning of my insane amount of re-watching this show over n over again all began with the 2 week period wehere i did nothing but #rewatch this ep n take notes. it did things to my brain #like glenn rewatching the show pre-s14 rlly shows cuz all the directing choices made in Macden Break Up came very much back into play here #with the Walls... ugh. sunny motifs u kno #ITS SHOWIN THAT DEN IS STILL THE CAT KEEPIN HIMSELF IN THE WALL!!! IT BRINGS BACK A SIMILAR SHOT FROM MACDEN BREAK UP!! #like... dennis FEELS like theres a wall between him n mac. but its invisible. n mac wont just TURN AROUND even tho he knows yeah Dennis.. #hes the one! his guy... his LEADING MAN #JUST TURN AROUNDDD #but the thing is there IS a wall n its invisibile so DENNIS cant see how his own insecurity n fear of taking a risk is holding himself back #from what his hearts always wanted.. which is just the same exact core conflict of Macden Break Up... in reality they never addressed that #problen so this ewas a smart way to bring it back around before we open up our Real macden storyline in s14/s15...the Set Up.. the Act i... #parker posts

[todayisafridaynight]

Underrated Sibling Moment is actually mitsu being like ‘i dont want to go back to the captain alone are you insane’ after ichi fumbles the loan collection and ichi has to ditch him for a few hours and mitsu can only kill time and Not think of The Inevitable until they can go back to sawashiro together as if that’ll save them from The Inevitable like if you get it You Get How Real That Was

#snap chats #the best part about getting a new phone. ‘’’new’’’ #is that i can make goofy posts ten times faster now that i dont have to wait a year for the app to open #ANYWAY NO YK WHAT I MEAN #LIKE AS IF GOING TO YOUR PARENT TOGETHER WONT JUST GET BOTH YOUR ASSES BEAT #growing up it was the same shit with my sisters and i #if we were out of the house and knew mom was home we’d find any and every excuse to stay out until she was asleep #or she locked herself in her room to do work all night #STOOOPPP I REMEMBER THE WORST CHRISTMAS EVE EVE OF MY LIFE #my dad wanted to get lunch with my sis and i but our mom was home and in the kitchen and yk #we can’t just leave without saying where we’re going ig #bro when i say my sis had a whole breakdown because she did not want to tell our mom #it was painful like TRULY #SAME PLAY OUT TOO NOW THAT I THINK OF IT in the beginning she acted Not Mad #and then very quickly Was Mad and it was just awful all around #made it very gard to enjoy lunch ngl but hey. #after that I Do Not Lie she and i just hung out at the mall for the next eight hours LMAO #but yeah. the accidental story time is integral to understanding this feeling i promise #ITS JUST SO REAL ESP WHEN YOU FUCKED UP AND YOU JUST KNOW YOUR PARENT GONNA FIND OUT LMAO #the most evil shit is when your parent starts getting mad and thrn your siblings clear like roaches #LIKE OH OK. I THOUGHT WE WERE RIDE OR DIEHDVEC #anyway shout out my man mitsu i dont mention you ever but know i see you and ily

[lion-buddy]

being the resident nezuko liker is such a challenge sometimes

#ooo these tags contain complaining if u dont like that then see ya around <3 #i would love to scroll through the tag without being bombarded by. awfulness. both bot and fandom posted #yknow. yknow. that is a 12 yr old #it has become!!! genuinely frustrating! it always has been #and i dont mean to complain but. man. im just disappointed #and.while kinda begin the kny mascot she is barley present in fan made content. with meaning. and its all mostly reposted art ugh. #and even official stuff has her only as little child nezuko and!! i get it its cute whatever but it feel so pandery and wrong all the time #i just poitn. that is not her that is a facet u r choosign to hyperfocus on show me the real her #and lets be honest the og stroyline isnt kind to her etiher she is nonexistent after swordsmith #i remember for a time when idid post abt her i was one of the inly consistent nezuko artists who wanted to like. put her in scenarios #and i want reiterate again that drawing cute art and gifs of her is fine it doesnt hurt anyone. i love to see it actually #but like. in a fandom as big as this youd think. youd think they like her more!!!! but no #and. the last thing i want to insinuate is “if u dont like my fav character then u suck” cus thats is not how fandom content works. at all #fandom is a experience for u to cultivate for yourself. and sometimes it just comes up short!!! i guess #it jsut felt weird being lonely in your liking of an aspect of the series where there are so many ppl. yet they all only like the hot men. #which again. u do u. nothign wrong with it. its anime afterall. it can just be frustrating sometimes. #idk! im also not very social so maybe its just my fault but. man. id love to find some other resident nezuko likers that. isnt just shippin #i feel interacting would be so much easier if my fav was like. one of the main boys like everyone else. or i made ship content or somethin #but like i said fandom is for u and u only if that makes sense. the point is to create things u want to see. which is what i do and enjoy #just with nezuko specifcally. i dotn want to put my stuff of her in the tags anymore cuz i just. dont trust the fandom with her. its weird #but also. appreciate those who did interact. i hope ur all doing alright <3 ty for talkign with me :] #i just needed to get this out cuz its. kinda why i dotn post abt kny anymore. especially the s3 fandom im sorry i just dont vibe with it </

[bitchthefuck1]

Talking to my dad after listening to Unreal Unearth like

#like i know the reason is that he only ever spoke it in school and never learned it that well to begin with but like. really? not even a few #basic words? #idk ive been reflecting a lot on my cultural identity in the last few years and how my mom made sure to immerse us in her culture as much as #humanly possible and maintain that connection to her home and how it's a much bigger part of my identity than i realized #and on the other hand my dad did none of that and had no real interest in sharing that with us (not intentionally hes just emotionally #unavailable) so there's this whole side of my family and my history that I don't really feel connected to at all #like there have been a few times where someone in my dads family has asked me if i 'feel irish' and they always seem so sad when I have to #be like honestly not really. and its so sad to be basically completely cut off from that entire side of my family and myself especially when #i can compare it to the joy and connection i have in my moms side #like my dad is incapable of talking about a feeling and now all his children and anyone who comes after us will have zero connection to the #country they lived in for generations. #idk i just have some Feelings about this that unreal unearth brought back up #esp butchered tongue #thanks hozier #(seriously thank u 11/10 album)