#god imagine getting even one of these lines but ALL of them? delivered in the most impeccable of accents we could ever be blessed with??????

[mobius-m-mobius]

Benoit Blanc you will always be famous

#daniel craig #benoit blanc #knives out #glass onion #submitting the above to declare him a character of all time <33 #god imagine getting even one of these lines but ALL of them? delivered in the most impeccable of accents we could ever be blessed with?????? #listen i finally got around to rewatching knives out and nearly keeled over when he said the truth falls at his feet he's so powerful 😭😭 #the way i love him more than life itself... #edited the last gif bc i hadn't realized 'vainglorious' was a word but am so very glad it is and will be peppering it into conversation asap #movieedit #dcraigedit #glass onion spoilers #dianagifs

[mrswolffs-blog]

Mrs. Wolff To The Rescue

Toto Wolff x Black! Reader

TW: Violence, Cursing

It had been a stressful day as the race wasn’t going well for the Mercedes team as tires were a bit mixed up and strategies seem to be failing rapidly. The two drivers were up in battle with the Ferrari and Redbull drivers as the other teams seem to be very far behind.

During this whole chaos, George’s rear wing had managed to get hit by Lewis after Max’s impatience took over and he slammed into the silver arrow. This sent George spinning off into the gravel on turn sixteen. This caused tension to rise in garage as Toto became angry the Dutch man’s antics.

Thought the next half an hour of the race, everything seems to be fine with Lewis until Max unfairly tried to overtake which ended in both the Redbull cars and the last Mercedes car to spin off the track as Perez unluckily was trying to move past them, yet he wasn’t fast enough as he got hit by Max’s spinning car.

All the reckless driving from Max along with him taking out both drivers of the Mercedes team lead to a furious Toto Wolff as he started yelling, only for him to get out the chair shattering the headphones across the desk upon impact from the slam of his hand. This scared everyone around him in the garage as he started pacing about, yelling out his frustration of the race to anyone in sight.

Bono decided that he had enough and called for backup. “Hello Y/n, your husband is here yelling at everyone after shattering another pair of headphone” he whispered into the phone. “Are you serious? What is wrong with this man?” Y/n groaned in frustration as she would have to leave work to save the team from her yelling giant of a husband for the third time this month. “Alright, I’m on my way. Don’t say anything to him” She grumbled as she got up from her desk. “Ok Mrs. Wolff but please hurry” Bono replied justly before the line went dead.

The whole fifteen minute drive, Y/n could only imagine how scared the workers must have been if it got to the extent of even one of Toto’s friends who works for him called. When she arrived, she parked the car right next to Angela’s who was waiting for her. “Y/n thank God you’re here, it’s like they’re being held hostage in there. He won’t stop ranting and yelling. No one has moved a muscle since Lewis’ crash.” Angela explained in panic. “Thanks for having Bono notify me and for putting up with his grumpy ass” Y/n mumbled in response as she was over her husband’s overreaction at this point.

They entered the paddock and the other teams immediately knew that a scolding was heading the Austrian Team Principal’s way. Y/n nodded fondly at a few people until she finally came to a stop at the Mercedes garage where she could hear her husband’s loud rants about some Dutch fucker who is out to kill everyone on the grid. She walked inside and signaled for them to keep quiet as she grabbed a stool. She carefully climbed the stool and looked at the back of his head before delivering a head pounding slap to it causing everyone to gasp.

Toto was so mad as he turned around to retaliate only to find his upset wife glaring at him. “Hii schatzi. What are you doing here?” He asked sweetly as he put himself together. “You tell me Torger Christian Wolff?! Why is it that while at work I’m getting calls saying that you’re holding your workers captive after scaring them?! Haven’t I specifically warned you about breaking headphones?! HUH TORGER?!” She angrily yelled at him as he guiltily stood quiet. While all this was going on, Bono had packed up his briefcase which was now in his hand as he waited for his wife to speak again.

Y/n got down from the stool and looked at her husband’s team as they waited for further instructions which went in their favour. “Okay, I know y’all have work to do so you get back to work and I’ll take this monster away. Tomorrow you’ll have a brand new boss okay?” She promised as they responded in union. “Thank you Mrs. Wolff” and went off to their respective jobs.

Y/n then turned to her husband still infuriated as she said “Give me your head” she demanded to which Toto bowed his head only for Y/n to start yanking him through the paddock and towards the garage by his ears like a naughty child as she grumbled on like a disappointed mother about his behaviour. “I have told you so many times before, stop smashing headphones, stop yelling at others, don’t scare people but NO, you wanna do what you feel like. Now look where it landed your ass huh?!”

The whole paddock and basically the world witnessing this found it hilariously cute that a giant of a man like Toto could be tamed by such a small person but at the end of the day she isn’t just a person, she’s his WIFE.

#toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x oc #Toto Wolff angst

[residentfromnowhere]

| SOUP |

GiyuuTomiokaXHashira!Reader

TW: 18+ Themes, Masturbation, & Voyeurism Kink

Note: not proofread and I was half sleep when I made this so apologies for this mess of a Drabble -w-

“Yes, Y/N fuck me harder…ffffuuck-“

How did you get here? How did it get to this point and When did it get to this point? How did you get yourself into this mess of a situation to where your trapped in the door way of your friends home when all you were doing was delivering a bowl of soup. Soup for Christ sakes? And to someone who you thought was just a good friend no less? One second, you were walking down a path you have taken dozens of times to reach a fellow hashiras house and then the next thing you know, you open a door and hear not just anyone moaning, but him moaning. Loudly. See, it’s not the moaning that startles you and makes you stop in your tracks, it’s the fact that he’s moaning YOUR NAME out of all things and saying the most lewd and vulgar phrases afterwards that makes you freeze.

If anyone saw you now, they would think that you were a statue. Stuck between making a run for it or just standing there and waiting until after he’s done. There were many windows of opportunity to where you could have ran for the hills but each time, your body would cease to function, making you have to hear him call out to you and talk about you in such a way that you don’t know if you will ever recover from this. You were terrified to even breath in fear that he would notice but knew that if you didn’t leave soon, you would see something that will alter your perception of him forever

Giyuu Tomioka was a kind, quiet soul whose skill was nothing short of amazing and can easily be recognized as one of the demons corps best. He was the first to ever speak to you when you first arrived and always showed kindness and understanding towards you. So imagine how shocking it must be to see someone you look up to and call “friend” pleasuring them self to the thought of you. You respected him and saw him as more of a teacher than anything so why is it that you’re just now learning about his feelings for you And like this?

You snap out of your train of thought when you suddenly hear a low, breathless grunt. You finally get the courage to look through the cracked door and see a half naked Giyuu panting, chest rapidly moving up and down as he watched the remaining of his essence spurt out and god it was so much. He was covered in it and the thump from him laying down made you jump backward, having your head hit the wind chimes right above you. You both freeze, not knowing what to do and at that moment, you decided to drop the soup and run faster than you ever ran in your life and never thinking of turning back.

Ever since that day, you haven’t been able to look him in the eyes but he didn’t show that he minded it. At first, you weren’t sure if he saw you or guessed that you were there but after a few conversations, things seemingly went back to normal. Well, so you thought. What you didn’t know was that he sensed you and knew the entire time you were there and it just made him hornier. He was too far deep to stop now and he thought since his muse was there, he might as well put on a show.

He’s only keeping quiet for the sake of the friendship and for your own peace of mind but when I say that even after you left, he had another round because the very fact that you stayed made him horny and honestly couldn’t help himself, i mean he went harder than before. You could have sworn he mumbled something along the lines of “thank you for the soup” while walking away but wasn’t to sure. I guess we will never know, hmm?

#Nowhere’s Library 📚 #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #kny giyuu #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu smut #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x you #tomioka giyu x reader #kimetsu giyuu #smut #anime smut #kny smut #kny fic #smut fic

[torao-d-water-ya]

Trafalgar Law, the Don Quixote brothers, and why Doffy takes such personal offence to the existence of Lawlu (Part 2: Hope)

Part 1

1. It’s no use laying your hopes on him!

Doflamingo is an absolute master of emotional manipulation, and he’s a lot more interested in crushing your spirit than doing you bodily harm. To do that he needs to know your weak spots, know where you’re vulnerable, know where it hurts. With Law, the kid who’s been through a past horrific enough to impress Doffy, the kid who was once next in line to be his successor, there are only two weak spots that Doffy puts his entire focus on. Two people.

The man who saved him, and the man who allows him to hope.

Corazon and Luffy.

Doflamingo took care of Corazon 13 years ago, so the next step in getting Law to submit is to break his faith in Luffy.

Unfortunately for Doflamingo, Law's belief in Luffy is stronger than he can possibly imagine.

2. You can’t take down Straw Hat-ya!

Law is staring down the barrel of a gun and refusing to back down, and in “killing” him, Doflamingo is actually admitting defeat. Again, what he wants is to regain control of Law, not kill him. This entire arc he’s been goading Law, chastising him for going soft, for siding with his brother, siding with the idiot Straw Hat... telling him he used to have potential. He wants Law back. But that little speech about Luffy finally, finally rings it home: Law is well and truly out of his reach.

Seeing the full extent of Law’s faith in Luffy forces Doflamingo to admit defeat in his quest to regain his pawn. Now all he wants is to prove to Law (beyond the grave, for the next interaction, because Doffy is just that petty) how stupid and unfounded his faith was.

3. He said you can work miracles. Can you, Straw Hat?

Law’s relationship with Luffy isn’t one sided, and Doflamingo knows this. In fact, his go to point of attack against each of them has become the other: with Law, that Luffy will not live up to his hopes and dreams, and with Luffy, that he’s letting Law down.

He trusted you so much. He said you can work miracles. But there he is, dead on the ground. And it’s all your fault.

Had to include Doffy delivering the most romantically coded jibe in all of One Piece

4. If he loses, I need to be here and die along with him!

Luffy has saved a lot of people from their greatest demons. Nami from Arlong. Vivi from Crocodile. Robin from the World Government. Sanji from Judge.

That the character who tries to seem the most detached, the only one who will continue to refuse the label of ‘Nakama’... that it is Trafalgar Law who makes the most intense, gut-wrenching show of loyalty - even before the deed is done - will never cease to amaze me.

5. Watch closely as your hope gets crushed.

For each of Luffy’s final battles, there is a character that acts as the heart: the one that Luffy is mainly fighting for, the one that makes the fight personal to Luffy. A crew-member, a princess. Sometimes both, and most of the time, with the added weight of a country of suffering innocents. 

In Dressrosa, the role of the ‘heart’ is played by two characters: Law and Rebecca. Law is the one who brings Luffy here, the one who bears the responsibility of taking down this great evil - the Vivi, the Momo and Kinemon. Rebecca is the representative of the suffering innocents - the Toto, the Tama. Luffy fights for both.

The difference here is Law makes the fight personal not just for Luffy, but also for Doflamingo. No other villain has had the kind of connection to the ‘heart’ of the arc that Doflamingo has to Law. To him, defeating Luffy has the added meaning of crushing Law’s hope, of delivering a final punishment to the would-be heir that betrayed him all those years ago. 

And he can’t help but take his final opportunity to rub it in.

6. In some places, there are people who call the Family of D... “Sworn enemy of the gods”

The final attack cuts to reactions all over the country - the Strawhats, members of the soon to be Grand Fleet, Gatz and the citizens of Dressrosa, Riku, Kyros, Viola, and most of all - Rebecca and Law.

But when Luffy finally wins, as Doflamingo falls through the rubble of Dressrosa, we end out the episode entirely from Law's point of view, with the words that connect his first saviour to his current one: In some places, there are people who call the Family of D... "Sworn enemy of the gods".

For all his faith in Luffy, in this one moment, as he looks up at his saviour in the sky, Law can hardly believe it.

It's done.

He's gone.

Law is finally...

#lawlu #trafalgar law #luffy #doflamingo #corazon #one piece #trafalgar d. water law #monkey d. luffy #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #dressrosa

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine figuring out when King's birthday is

That Fall

You: *notices King has it noted in his planner that he had no plans on the afternoon of December 1st* sir, would you like to schedule the quarterly finance meeting on the December first?

King: no, keep that afternoon open please, I'll be taking time off that afternoon.

You: I've worked for you for almost a year, and you've never taken time off. Is there any particular reason why?

King: ... No reason

You: *suspicious* okay.

A week later

You: *has to pull the past three years worth of King's planners from the archive for actual work but checks December 1st in all the planners and deduces that it must be important to him*, so he always takes that afternoon off

Yamato: *sprawled on top of a desk, eating Cheetos and intentionally get dust on the floor of Kaido's office* hmm yeah, my father will usually give him some sort of gift, and they go out to lunch together. Although few times Father even tried to get him some of the girls from the brothels to entertain him for the night, but the last time was back when I was a kid. I'm pretty sure after his lunch with my father, he holes himself up in his room.

You: oh can't imagine that went over well.

Yamato: HaHa! No, one of the girls got pushy and King had to throw her out of his quarters.

You: it must be his birthday then, King is too much of a duty driven workaholic to take time off for himself for anything.

Yamato: oh my god, maybe, now that I think about it, I don't know his birthday.

You: in that case I need to move around a few of his appointments

Yamato: *crushes a handful of puffy Cheetos and sprinkles it across Kaido's chair* why would you do that?

You: because he works too much, so any chance I can get him to relax I'll take it.

December 1st

King: when's my appointment with Orochi?

You: Tomorrow

King: You're wrong, check again, I scheduled it for today.

You: I'm not wrong, I moved it two weeks ago to tomorrow. In fact, I moved most of today's appointments to different days. The only thing on your schedule today is Queen's annual service review, torturing a few prisoners, and your lunch with Kaido.

King: oh my, what did I do to deserve such pleasant day?

You: *shrugs* just lucky I guess, it's not like it's your birthday or something. *Squints at King*

King: How'd you know?

You: because only you would need need to wait until your birthday to be able to justify taking time off to yourself. Oh, and remind me which restaurant you are going to with Kaido?

King: His chiefs are making Spicy Udon for us, it's one of my favorites.

You: but not your favorite, which is why I had a crew go out and get a bunch of flying fish to make sashimi for your dinner. It'll be delivered to your rooms at six, and the servants have instructions to deliver it to your door, where they'll ring a bell to announce that it's there, so you don't have to talk to or interact with anyone.

King: I don't deserve you sometimes.

You: I know

King: *ruffles your hair and laughs* you're not supposed to agree with me.

That evening

You: *knocks on King's bedroom door* Sir, I apologize for interrupting your evening, but I've come to deliver something.

King: *currently doing some self-care, so he's not wearing his mask* ... come in

You: *drags in a bouquet of massive flowers you had the Tontatta's grow, and his present* Alrighty tidy, these are yours, happy birthday

King: If you keep this up you'll spoil me. What flowers are these? I've never seen them before, but they're somehow familiar.

You: That's because they're from atop the Red Line. They're called, Flame Daisies, they were once the symbol of the Lunarian Kingdom. They also remind me of you, and they're good for your skin.

King: *didn't anticipate flowers would open an emotional can of worms*, and what's in the box?

You: just a little something something,

King: *opens it to find boxes filled with paperwork and gives you a confused look*

You: those are the only remaining copies of your Punk Hazard records, to do with as you please.

King: you're kidding

You: nope, I destroyed the others, I even got Vega Punk to delete his mental records of them. Good night King, and happy birthday.

King: now wait a damn minute, you can't make me feel like a weepy little bitch, and then just dip. No, your ass is staying here and drinking with me. You're also getting a few face masks, because your'r skin looks awful, sit your ass down.

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #king one piece #king the wildfire x reader #king the conflagration x reader #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #yamato one piece #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #12/1/22 #no beta we die like men

[sixteenthchapel]

Hello! Just wanted to say that I'm in love with your art and ur one of the people that made me fall in love with jttw jdjdje Also ur characterization of Wukong and Tripitaka makes their dynamic so charming and amusing 😭 (They r so dumb god)

Random question! Do you have a favourite moment in the book?

First of all, thank you so much!! oh my gosh that is so kind TToTT I'm really happy you liked them!! The pilgrims all being dumb together is my favorite thing hhaha As to your question, oh man, absolutely. Its more a bunch of moments all from one chapter. My favorite chapter of the book goes something like this: And I've said this before but should say again, it has been several years since I read the novel cover to cover, so I may not remember all the details just right, but as I recall it, my favorite chapter is the one immediately following the story of the White Bone Devil, which is one of the most famous chapters. But to me, the story of the White Bone Devil is nothing compared to their ridiculous conflict with Lord Yellow Robe, Kui Mulang.

After Monkey is banished by Tripitaka, he goes back to Mt Huaguo, leaving Pigsy and Sandy to look after the priest. Which goes about as well as you'd think. Pigsy says he'll go find food, then just takes a nap, Sandy I think goes looking for him, and when they both don't come back for a while, Tripitaka goes looking for them and ends up walking DIRECTLY into this demon's lair.

When Sandy and Pigsy learn of the priest's capture, they attempt to stage a rescue. During the middle of the fight, Pigsy thinks they're going to lose so tells Sandy to cover him, he has to go take as shit IMMEDIATELY. Runs into the bushes, and escapes all the while Sandy is captured and yelling at him for being a fat, useless, coward (rude.. but in this case very true lol)

Pigsy, now alone and unsure what to do, flies to Mt Huaguo to find Monkey and ask him to come back and save everyone. He tells him everything that's happened, and that Trip has been captured and will surely die if he doesn't help. Even after hearing all that, Monkey refuses. He's still upset that Trip dismissed him and thinks dying and reincarnating ought to teach the brat a lesson! Pigsy gives up at first, skulking off and mumbling to himself about what a flea-ridden bastard Monkey is... this is overheard by some of Monkey's minions who deliver the news to the king himself. Monkey orders Pigsy to be brought back for execution LOL Thinking on his feet, Pigsy tries to redirect Monkey's ire, and thinks one of my favorite lines in the novel. "A warrior is more likely to answer a challenge than an invitation".

He tells Monkey that it wasn't him... This demon, Lord Yellow Robe, he's the one who called Monkey a weak, pathetic, cowardly fool.

And this makes Monkey ENRAGED

Monkey springs into action, flying to confront this demon. Screaming about all the nasty things this demon said about him while Lord Yellow Robe has no idea who the hell this monkey is or why he's so pissed off.

And boy, does Monkey go HARD on this guy. After he beats him up and along with a bunch of his soldiers, the demon retreats into his lair and Monkey is left out. He can't find a way to get to him, so instead takes out his anger on Kui Mulang's wounded but still living soldiers, killing them all. He meets back up with Pigsy and Sandy and tells them his brilliant idea to draw the demon back out.

By taking his half-human children and killing them outside the gates, hoping that will enrage their father enough to come back out. Even his companions think he's malding a little hard

This has gone on awhile so to cut the rest short, Monkey is eventually "victorious". I think I recall a subplot about Trip being turned into a tiger too, and there was this captured princess subplot too.

But this is my fave chapter lol. Basically "Monkey Accidentally Saves The Day By Avenging An Imagined Insult To Himself"

Peak Monkey behavior, absolute mad lad, everyone is an idiot. Its just a mess and I love it.

#ty for the ask <3 #sorry for the long post aslfdjf i really like this particular story #monkey is so emotionally stable and not an insecure bully at all guys #he does come back after this #and his reward for his uh... heroic tantrum is he gets to have the headband put back on #i just kinda winged a design for kui mulang but i like how he looks #sun wukong #zhu bajie #tripitaka #sha wujing #kui mulang #yellow robe demon #jttw #jttw tag #journey to the west

[mxtantrights]

the chemistry read

this is a snippet from the famous dc!au that started with The Greatest Hits [read here] you don’t have to read it but a lot of things would make sense if you do! hope you enjoy.

Admittedly, you shouldn't give into peer pressure. It does nothing for you in the end except show others that you can be bent to their will. But that will being your fan base is a whole other thing.

You had to prove to your fans that you could deliver right?

"What are you planning over there?" Jason asks.

You look up from your phone. He's sprawled out on the lounge seat by your side. God he looks good but you've told him that when he woke up this morning and when he was making your breakfast. His ego could go an hour before being inflated again.

So you shrug your shoulders.

"A couple of people are saying we don't have chemistry." you answer.

You watch in real time as Jason gasps and gets up from his seat. He walks over to you with a dumbfounded look on his face. There he stands in front of you with his hands on his hips.

"We? Us? You and me? The co-stars of a big blockbuster romcom? That we?" he fires off.

The laugh works its way up from your belly to your chest.

"Yes, us. I was just trying to figure out a way to prove them wrong." you explain.

Jason bends down and the action confuses you. Until his knees hit the end of your lounge chair and he crawls his way up to you. For the love of everything holy you know the two of you haven't gotten intimate yet but you can just tell he is a master of foreplay.

As he hovers above you know you don't know what to think. You can't think. There are no words in your head except for Jason's name.

"I think I've got something." he says.

It's barely above a whisper. You don't know why. The two of you aren't in the country right now. An impromptu weekend vacation to a beach house down the coast. It's just you two here.

You go to speak but stop yourself when Jason grabs your phone. He holds it out for you to put in your passcode, even shuts his eyes when you do it. Then he takes your phone and sets up the camera to video mode.

"Chemistry read. Right here, right now." he speaks.

You look at him incredulously. A short laugh tumbles out first and then you realize that he's not joking. You smile again and set your phone against the chair side table. The camera catches you and Jason from your chests up.

"What script are we working with here? I'd like to be professional about this Mr.Todd." you ask.

"All of them. We're doing best romcom lines ever." Jason answers.

You reach over to your phone and hit record. Jason takes this time to roll back his shoulders and crack his neck. It makes you yelp and cackle like an animal. He has to reel you back into the moment.

He goes first. And boy does he make a show of it. He looks at you intensely It's the way his eyes aren't just one color that throw you off focus. Sure you couldn't think about lines before but now? Definitely not.

"You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." he repeats.

Your eyes widen and your hand clamps over your mouth. Jason laughs right along with you. You clear your throat and try to calm yourself.

Then you lean right in. You and Jason just a foot away from each other. You see the smirk on his face.

“Just shut up! Here... I wanna marry you because you're the first person I wanna look at when I wake up in the morning, and the only one I wanna kiss goodnight. Because the first time that I saw these hands, I couldn't imagine not being able to hold them. But mainly, when you love someone as much as I love you, getting married is the only thing left to do. So, will you, um, marry me?” you spurt out.

Jason lets out a gasp. You dust your shoulder off with a bashful grin on your lips. Nodding you head to your choice of rom com.

Then Jason leans in so that your noses are touching. You can't help the way you take in a huge breath. Or the small noise you make that Jason is eating up by the way.

“You jump, I jump, remember? I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be alright.” he says.

Titanic? No way!

You have to one-up him. You can't let him win this hypothetical challenge you've set for yourselves. No way. Realistically he reads English lit so he's going to have an advantage. But you would be damned if you went down without a fight.

“You were my new dream.” you reply.

“You complete me.” he shots back.

“You had me at hello.” you respond.

Jason lets out a warm breath and you feel it against your face. Did he just let you win? You cock your head to the side. But sure enough Jason cradles the side of your head with his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your cheek.

Yeah he let you win. But you think back to the way he crawled up the chair to you and you think to yourself that you have already won twice. Three times if you count the fact you woke up next to him this morning.

Why not let him get a little something for his troubles?

You turn your face inward to his open palm and place a kiss to it. As you do your eyes never leave his. His eyes go wide and then soft, a downturned smile on his lips.

"Think we need to shut the camera off now."

“Why?”

“I mean I’m okay with PDA but some things are meant to be private.” he explains.

“Some things like what Jay?” you ask.

You know good and well what he’s talking about. You actually love teasing him. It’s the better part of each day you spend with him. The way he reacts.

"Things like my tongue in your mouth.” he says with a smile.

You nod your head along, “Get the camera pretty boy.”

His eyes do the thing again and he’s reaching over for the phone to hit stop.

“Yup. Got it. Got it. Getting it.” He says stretching over you and fumbling with the phone.

He hits stop and record a bunch of times. You know you’re going to find several two second videos of you and him sitting like this. You don’t care though.

All you can think about is savoring this moment. He looks hot to the touch with the sun behind him. His sunglasses in his hair. Shirtless in tropical designed swim trunks that you don’t think anyone could pull off but him.

And he is all yours.

#famous dc!au #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd fic #dc fic #dc imagine #dc x reader

[akane171]

Things about Ron Speirs that live rent free in my head - PART II

-We can see 4 soldiers running to the Eagle’s Nest, but no Speirs with them at that moment. I’m headcanoning he was already waiting for them at the door, smoking his third cigarette and impatiently tapping his foot.

-He smoked so much, because he didn’t know what to do with his hands in social situations, don’t change my mind.

-That instant regret, when he tried to socialize in Carentan and told the soldiers they were moving soon. That last look he threw them always make me cackle. He was SO DONE. And probably didn’t even try to socialize for the next month at least.

-Him being: clean shaven with hair slicked back, with his helmet on and with ruffled hair falling on his forehead - are three different demons and they all hit you differently.

-It’s super adorable that he was the most soft-spoken and sweetest when he was or dead tired or drunk.

-And you know, in all the moments when he forced his facial muscles to smile - every time, somewhere in the universe an unicorn has died (Forced, not genuine. When he smiled genuinely every time an unicorn shat a granade).

-“Lieutenant Lipton! :DDDDD” *gross sobbing*

-All the scenes, with his side profiles, when he stood with his arms folded on his chest and silently judged the universe.

-His relationship with Janovec. Like. I can’t even imagine how hilarious it had to be in general xD

-The moment when Harry didn’t allow him to steal and he looked at Winters, like he wanted help from dad (someone else on tumblr mentioned it and it’s a perfect catch).

-It's almost canon (some deleted or not filmed scene?) that Speirs (and Jones) dragged drunken Lipton to his quarter. I guess, he would have done that after all the "officers chilling and drinking time". Dick would have done that with Nixon. (And they would just have left Harry behind, duh).

-“Hey, Liebgott, you wanna sit this out?” master troll strikes again :’) (also it’s quite funny, because real Webster really admired Speirs and said he was one of the very few officers he really liked).

-The pure admiration in his eyes for his commander, when Dick cancelled the another patrol.

-It’s quite interesting how fast he has learnt about the abilities of all of his sergeants and knew who could do the job.

-The way he taped Lipton’s chest with his knuckles, after Lip was promoted and that soft smile :’)

-All the pouts.

-The fact he had no nervous system in combat situations and then he was all meow, meow with people he liked and felt comfortable with.

-“This war is not about fighting anymore. It’s about who gets what.” On the funny note, it’s hilarious when we consider his sticky fingers here. On the serious note, knowing what happened next aka the cold war – he was totally right.  

-The scene in ep 7, when Lip talks about him and he emerged from the fog like a ghost and then scared the shit out of Christenson and other poor souls. Poetic cinema xD

-The moment when he called God, because Lipton was liptoning and refusing to lie down, while being sick. (And yes, in real life he told Lip to take the ONLY bed. Lip, because he was Lip, refused, but then he was ordered, so he agreed… I don’t know what to do with this information, seriously….).

-That hand tremble while he was pointing the gun at the asshole that shot Grant. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, it was that thick.

-Also the line “When you talk to the officer, you say sir.” is so damned corny when you think about it, but because it was Speirs and the way he delivered it, it ended simply great. Also, A+ acting again.

-There is a lot to unpack in this scene, because why the ruthless killer, who was nicknamed “Bloody”, didn’t shot the bastard? He has had enough of killing? The prisoner was defenceless? He calculated the consequences, because he already knew he was staying in the army? All of this? Who knows.

-The fact we again, didn’t see his face for a moment, when he holstered his gun and said Grant was going to be ok - damn, I would want to see it.

(On the real side note, I think I’ve read somewhere (probably it was the Fierce Valour), that real Speirs said to Winters, that he didn’t really know, but there had to be some kind of doubt in his mind, that’s why he didn’t pull the trigger.)

Ok, the END.

It’s quite embarrassing how much time I’ve spent thinking about this asshole, but whatever.

Part one (x)

#ronald speirs #band of brothers #part II

[handmemyshovel]

imagine: horatio, stuck in a never-ending play.

the first go around it’s normal. he doesn’t realize he is in a play, this is just life as it always is. he is coming from college to see his friend and his father’s funeral. but horatio notices the chaos that seems almost staged. but he doesn’t think too much of anything unusual, this is life as it always is! just… chaotic. sad. a friend in pain but what can he do about it? thinking of it… maybe he brought his own friend into this madness, into his death. and as fortinbras steps in and the stage goes dark, horatio is suddenly swept back in time. back to that night.

it’s the second play, but horatio doesn’t know it. he looks at bernardo and marcellus, wondering how he got here. notices how they repeat the exact words that happened nights ago, horatio responds with what seems natural. he says the same things too. and it all repeats. horatio is filled with fear and confusion as it all repeats itself. he tries to piece things together. if all this is happening does that mean hamlet will appear again too? back from the dead? he suggests letting hamlet speak to the ghost and marcellus and bernardo don’t mention anything of the prince’s death. he is still alive then? was it all just a horrible dream? but if it was, why are things going exactly like what happened in that nightmare? why is horatio’s one best friend lying dead in his arms again? why is no one doing anything to stop this? in his confusion he only plays along, unable to comprehend what is happening around him.

until he is taken to that night again. on the spot horatio almost breaks into tears. god, why is he here again? take him away from this nightmare. but there he stays. this time he decides to pay more attention to what’s happening. he makes sure that everything is as remembered, and it is.

he pieces things together in his mind. he realizes that between scenes he would be on stage he has an extremely fuzzy memory of what happened. he realizes that when he tries to say something different than what his head tells him to it doesn’t come out. he can only say what is written. sure, he can change the tone, he can delay the line, but he always says it. another thing he can do is change his actions — as long as it doesn’t mess with how the play is being acted out as it causes him quite literal pain to do so. he does those things as much as he can. he delays lines, tries to say certain lines as if he doesn’t mean them. (e.g. he suggests hamlet speaks to the ghost in a sarcastic or unconvincing manner, gets on his knees begging and clinging onto hamlet for him not to speak to the ghost/duel laertes) another thing horatio makes sure to do is take every word hamlet speaks in. he’s heard it all multiple times now, but it means something, it means something. the words hamlet says to him before his death. horatio knows what’s to come, so why not make the good parts better?

the fourth go around, horatio tries the hardest he can to change what is happening around him. he’s in the flow now and trying to get out of it. it’s his primary goal. but the more he tries, the more he seems to be going mad with hamlet, and ophelia, and about everyone else.

and nothing is changed, not the fourth, the fifth, the sixth go around. hours and hours of the same thing, horatio can’t take it. no one could possibly take it. as hamlet speaks of the longing of death, horatio now understands and agrees. but of course, he could never say that to hamlet, he must encourage him, even if nothing is changed in the effort.

but in the seventh play horatio gives up in trying to change things. he says each line emotionless. his energy in every action is drained. he can’t take it anymore, he simply can’t. whenever he sees hamlet, he is attached to him like a leech. he can’t let go of the man. every time hamlet talks of death he weeps onto him, every line horatio delivers filled with tears, and what does it matter? nothing is changed.

finally, finally, on the eighth play horatio gives up. entirely. he delays each line as much as possible, pursing his lips until his own body forces the words out breathlessly, denying an action until the overwhelming pain of doing so, too, forces him to do it. under his breath he will mumble the lines of others that he now has memorized from the endless times he has already heard them. every death brings him sobbing, collapsing on the floor. he’ll think: “it must be my fault, i always bring hamlet to the ghost, i always bring him in the picture. i make him mad, but i can’t do otherwise, i can’t. and all this harm… i cannot get away from it, i just want away from it. i just want happiness again. for hamlet, for me, for us all.” horatio knows at this point that no matter how hard he tries, nothing will change. and if he doesn’t take action, he’ll be stuck in this hell forever. so, when it comes to the last scene, he knows what he must do.

hamlet is begging in his arms for horatio to tell his story, but horatio can’t do that. he can’t. it’s a horrible way to go out, denying the dying wish of his love, but he can’t do otherwise. he has already tried to change things and he can’t take it anymore. he drinks the poison. and in doing so there is so much pain. the pain of rejecting the play’s reality. but he ignores the aching he has in every muscle, in his head, everything feeling like it’s about to explode. he ignores it. and he drinks the poison. he ends the play. he doesn’t tell the story. horatio finally gets his rest. and, god, he deserves it.

#i did not mean for this to be so long but i got carried away #oh and no one else knows its a play btw #I hate to bring harm to my blorbo but just imagine it #and imagine putting other characters through it... #sorry i will never capitalize shit #hamlet #horatio #brainrot #someone shut me up!

[worrywrite]

In the month I've been offline, I've read a fair bit more Discworld. Namely Going Postal and Equal Rites (currently working my way very slowly through Small God's).

These are my thoughts on Going Postal.

Going Postal, like much of Pratchett's work, is a lot of things. Most succinctly, and most prominently, it's a good story.

Less succinctly, and less prominently, it's a story about stories that need to be told by people who don't have the words to tell them. It is also about one man with only words and no story.

I find Moist to be an incredible character. Not because he is a good character--though he is very well written and I can only imagine the precision it takes to write the actions of Moist in one line and any other character in the next. Moist, is by all accounts, a man who is good at lying; and throughout all of the book, that is about as much as we know or need to know about him. And it is spectacular that the story balances on the wings of his hat when he is so nondescript beneath it. He has a history, sure, and it shows it's face in a few moments. But his charm and his skill is in being a nobody. In this way, he is the perfect everyman who is both nobody and everybody--whoever he needs to be and whoever he can be. It is an excellent way to write a conman and it is surprisingly difficult to do.

What is more beautiful, however, than characterization is the work of words. Letters are stories that must be told. The mail must be delivered. But it is not the letters themselves that matter and this is not some self congratulatory remark about the work of an author acting as the conduit for their contrived narrative. There are several groups of persons whose stories must be told. There are the postmen themselves, a tradition of people left behind by the developing world after they themselves were carried away in what they did. There are the golems, which I have many thoughts about and a great deal of love for, many of which literally have no voice but an immense amount of history to convey. And there are the dead men in the overhead, who are kept alive in name only.

And that last part, I think, is the most important. It is where the story begins, it is where the heart of Going Postal's narrative lies, and it is where the plot hinges. It is, also, perhaps what few people really think about when they inevitably type GNU into the tags or in their header or at the bottom of any post or web page.

The dead men in the overhead are, by all accounts, *there*. We don't see Death come for John Dearheart. I don't think Pratchett would have included that scene at the start of the book, but I think it's worth seeing it that way; it's worth thinking about it in that way, that Death didn't show up. John is murdered, in the prologue, and in such a way that we understand exactly what happens by the end of the book. But we only see Death come for Anghammarad in the novel. And while Death does not, necessarily, come for every dead character in a book (not even all the "important" ones), he appears only once in Going Postal. I'm getting carried away.

The story begins with two people. Anghammarad first, many years before, and then John Dearheart. Both are dead before the end of the novel, and Death comes only to one of them. Because John is still in the overhead. How literal that is is up to you, but I think it's actually pretty literal.

And while John and the rest are in there, constantly traveling along the clacks with their names and becoming one with the cryptics that make up the function of a telecommunications network, no one is telling their stories. Their lives and, perhaps more importantly, their deaths must be told. Their names are a message in the system, but the message is never truly delivered. It just goes on, just as much in storage as the letters in the post office. A letter must be delivered, it contains a story that must be told.

And so, Moist must tell the story. He is the storyteller, by trade and function in the novel. He plays his winning gambit in the standoff with Gilt by telling the story of the dead men in the overhead and signs it with their name. And while he sees this as a horrible betrayal of their memories, it really isn't. It's not a lie. The only lie in Moist's message is who signed it, and it works because no one could bear it if it was a lie. And in a way, it isn't.

I would like to carry on, but everything else I want to talk about for this book is about the golems or how cool I think Adora Belle is, and I don't think I've seen enough of them to really articulate what it is about them that is so beautiful. So more on them later probably.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #gnu #going postal

[vickyvicarious]

under the cut for length again

I do love the way Renfield manages Seward

"I had to go and see my.. patient" WHY THE PAUSE

everyone wants to meet Renfield! I sure do wish everyone actually got to (Jonathan glitch so annoying here)

"By the way... you have not introduced me." I love his line delivery. EVERY TIME.

there's nothing odd about introducing him at all Seward! stop it!

Oh man, Arthur's probably tearing up hearing his dad praised

Renfield's manners are so nice when he wants them to be

Oh man the edge of repressed urgency in Renfield's voice when he's talking about "here--now--" etc. He's trying so hard to get the urgency of his message across but also not to be too intensely pleading or vehement lest he come across as mad when he's very deliberately trying to appear extremely sane. It's such a tightrope

"Then I suppose I must only.. shift... my ground of request." Oh man this line is so sad.

HE'S TRYING SO HARD. The little almost shake on "they are good ones" auughhh

"I had a growing conviction that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was but yet another form or phase of his madness," and there it is, exactly what he feared. he showed emotion and Seward immediately went 'oh well there's the madness'

he can't speak. he can't speak! aghhhhhhh

"if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not my own master in the matter." HE IS HINTING TO YOU WHAT HE CAN LET SLIP.

"As he saw that the very excess of his emotion was militating against him, by restoring us more to our old relations, he became still more demonstrative." I HATE THIS

and he doesn't know what else to do, he's tried being reasonable, being clever, being genuinely emotional, none of it works, so he cries and begs and that fails too

the music when he says "I did what I could to convince you tonight" and the WAY he says that

Quincey speaking for Renfield is nice. I wish it changed matters.

Seward making the connection to "master" but not in the way Renfield was trying to get him to

ART. I know what you're up to and I love you for it. I imagine he slipped away as soon as Jack mentioned Dracula having 'wolves and rats' (though of course he had to prepare for this earlier by bringing them here)

van Helsing moving to protect Jonathan first with the crucifix, flowers, lamp, wafer, is so sweet. Sure, he's closest, but also... he's been preyed upon by this particular vampire before, and perhaps might need the protection all the more if he's recognized.

everyone shrinking back at first!

I imagine Jonathan watching the lock very closely as van Helsing tries it

oof, Jonathan's voice shaking a little on "grim surroundings" and "just as I felt myself doing". Also him kind of rushing and pausing in his speech... he's so tense and trying so hard to keep it together

Footsteps in the dust? Is that the workers bringing boxes in... or Dracula setting a trap? after all, he doesn't leave footprints

everyone choking up and saying like "oh great god" in disgust at the smell is so funny

meanwhile Jonathan is disgusted but recognizes it

"corruption had, itself, become corrupt" I looove the way he says this line

Jonathan's panic at noticing Dracula in the hallway! Also I love so much that he and Arthur both spot him... even if they dismiss the idea

ART'S BIG HERO MOMENT (again)

the skittery rat noises are so fun.

"They seemed to swarm over the place all at once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like a bank of earth set with fireflies." NOT fun. such a creepy image

Art hand-delivering his dogs to do their rat-murder <3

the dog noises are altogether cuter than I expected. Like I anticipated cuteness but also violent snarls but nah they're just having fun here

stop congratulating yourself on leaving Mina out ughhh

van Helsing saying "for the stake of human souls" feels very intentional...

"needless thoughts of pain" is SUCH an interesting (frustrating) thing for Jonathan to think, given all his experiences.

"It is too great a strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I know better now." BOOO don't do it Jonathan don't let yourself be convinced

ughhh

Jonathan don't sleep on a sofa, only bad things happen when you do!

"for a few seconds she did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of blank terror," oh god

and van Helsing is still up before otheres. when does this man REST

"When our sane and learned lunatic made that very statement of how he used to consume life, his mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and spiders which he had eaten just before Mrs. Harker entered the room." and what about it. he had finished eating them when he said it. he never specified how long ago he used to eat them.

Renfield dissing van Helsing to his face is excellent. I absoluetley love the delivery of "I wish you would take yourself and your idiotic brain theories... somewhere else."

stop congratulating yourself on leaving Mina out!!!!

god, Mina sound so sad about Jonathan not confiding in her. It's hurting them both, but her so muchhhhh I hate it. SHE'S CRYING ABOUT IT

Mina determined to keep her journal for Jonathan to read while knowing he is hiding things from her is so sad

no no no no no honey don't you dare blame yourself, no no... god the way her voice rushes through all the blame and then just breaks down into sobs I HATE IT

oh god Mina hearing the dogs and Renfield :( oh god oh god it's SO AWFUL to hear the muffled yells

Mina's 'nightmare' is so damn scary

"(It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play us, and how conveniently we can imagine.)" the way she tries to drag herself out of her terror at the memory and convince herself it's nothing, but it doesn't work and she sinks back in to the nightmare

Mina realized but it was too late and then she dismissed it in the morning. god. I hate it.

"The very prospect of beer which my expected coming had opened to him had proved too much, and he had begun too early on his expected debauch." oh my goddddd

Jonathan figuring out that Dracula is trying to spread out his boxes!

I love Smollet, such a reliable guy

Jonathan letting the kid keep the change. :)

Jonathan instantly recognizing that Mina has been crying

OH MAN the way he is SO hesitant and working himself up SO much to try and keep quiet to her still

"It is better to be disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her nerve broken." especially makes me sad. he doesn't want her to break like he did

Renfield making references that go over Seward's head and embarrass him <3

so then he gets stern and distressed Renfield

OH the way he says "like you Dr. Seward" is so creepy. and the following line as well!

"Ordinarily I would not have come without special reason," you LIAR you are always running after him to see what he's up to

"Renfield might not speak so freely before a third person as when he and I were alone." literally yesterday you were astounded at him talking better to all third parties than to you. is this genuine or just possessive?

"to "be cruel only to be kind." dammit now the song is in my head

"I thought I would enter into his mind as well as I could and go with him" you are not the best at that Seward. I can think of others who are much better.

augh I have many feelings about Renfield.

Seward seems so scared of him, or at least SO ready with the straighjacket. I hate it, especially when he was pushing him to try and stress him out in the first place

THE MUSIC when Seward realizes Dracula has seen Renfield

Renfield's song is killing meee

ahh, I see the timetraveling mail has been discreetly fixed in the podcast. definitely a more haunting not to end on with Renfield singing

#dracula daily #re: dracula #renfield #jack seward #mina murray #jonathan harker #arthur holmwood

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 21

welcome to the twenty-first fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. Most Artists are Messy by @shipsgalore

Lance is drawing a complicated flower on the base of Keith’s wrist and it makes his lips pull up into a smile despite the panic. They’re always flowers when it comes to Lance. He uses them in everything he does, and usually doesn’t even know he’s doing it. Keith can count on one hand how many times the doodles on his arms haven’t been of flowers.

i love this one because keith & lance are just blatantly and clearly autistic. it’s wonderful. it’s sweet and fluffy and it’s a modern au, which as y’all know is my jam, and the last few paragraphs do this specific thing with sentiment repetition that genuinely gets to me every time

2. Be Alive With Me Tonight by @caesaria [EXPLICIT] [ABO]

When the Blade of Marmora requests assistance on an information gathering mission, Lance and Keith go undercover as a bonded alpha and omega pair. At first, it seems like this is going to be more like a vacation than a mission – right up until everything falls apart and they realize how unprepared they really are. Now, Lance and Keith have to fight to not only survive, but to make it out together. They’ll have to rely not only on their skills as Paladin, but the bond they’ve created and nurtured between them.

okay i gave this one the explicit warning bc there are chapters that are explicit, but tbh the scenes are skippable if that’s not ur thing. now this fic is an EPIC. truly. its a quarter million words and the plot is breathtaking, the worldbuilding is iconic and the romance is like HOLY SHIT. this is a novel, and better yet its a KLANCE novel, so. highly recommend if you have a day or two to read.

3. roses by @renyoi

Lance is always getting flowers for Keith, so Keith decides to return the favor--with a little help, of course.

written for prompt #4 of klance valentine's week!

keith is hilarious here. just in general but here especially and i love him. he wants to pamper lance so so badly and hes so straightforward and earnest!! and allura’s character in here is also excellent. i will leave u with this one line from the fic that made me laugh it loud: “ The next day, the sun rises to Keith Kogane, dressed all in black (that’s all that was clean, okay?!), loitering around in front of Alluring Blossom, the 5-star-rated “I’ve never had such a delightful bouquet delivered to me in my entire life!” flower shop of a woman named Allura Altea. Keith automatically trusted her because he loves people that also have alliteration in their names. “ king. love him

4. here it comes by rideahorse

Keith watched a lonely droplet of water fall from Lance’s soaked bangs, curving a path over the bridge of his nose and then pooling—almost teasingly so—at the bow of his lips.

“I feel like I won, for some reason,” Lance said quietly.

what have i told yall about fics from 2016!!! this fic made me SMILE and im not usually a fan of like senior year of high school fics but holy shit!! holy SHIT!! this fic had me smiling and kicking my feet and losing my mind. i will leave u with the note i put on my bookmark (spoiler warning):

a couple things: 1. “lance is a bad influence” and “lance is a pretty princess (tm)” are god tier tags so thanks for that 2. keith with a tongue piercing. must i say more. 3. i miss keith gyeong that was an excellent era 4. the couple tattoo moment had me taking a Moment 5. here’s how i imagine the aftermath of this: shiro: i saw u ditched prom. are you okay? keith: yeah actually! lance convinced me that we have to have a wild final night, so we went to a High School Party (tm), i decked a guy for lance and your honour, we panic drove away, went skinny dipping in a pool, got caught, ran away naked for two blocks, went to sonic in another town, got matching tattoos, fucked in the backseat of my car, and watched the sunrise :)) shiro: shiro: shiro: shiro: i’m sorry. what were those last parts keith: yeah i know you really like sunrises we probably should have invited you :// but it was kind of an us thing i’m sure you understand :) shiro: KEITH

anyways i laughed

5. if silence was a song by @angstinspace

“It’s … Your show is on so late at night,” Keith tries to explain, as if Lance didn’t know this already. “I guess I was just wondering why that is.”

A crackling silence answers him, and Keith’s stomach sinks. Did Lance hang up? Keith can’t exactly blame him.

But then he hears Lance make a noise––a short huff of breath that might have been either an impatient sigh or a quiet laugh … Keith has no clue.

“That’s the reason you’re calling? To complain about my time slot?”

or, Keith starts anonymously calling Lance's college radio show and develops an unexpected crush.

@catnippackets did a comic of this i believe, and it literally never leaves my head. yall know the trope where one person gets a phone call and halfway through they sigh wistfully and say “god i wish you were here” and then the other person smiles so viscerally it can be felt through the phone and they say “look behind you” and theyre THERE?????? that makes me lose it every time. i love this fic

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!    

#god fic rec friday is so healing 4 me #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #keith #klance #brown-eyed lance #autistic keith #autistic lance #keith gyeong #lance sanchez #modern au #canon divergence #fic rec #fic rec friday

[velidewrites]

To get back what the Cauldron has taken from her, Elain Archeron makes a deal with Prythian’s most dangerous enemy.

Now, a servant of a cruel Death God, Elain must make sure her efforts are not discovered—especially not by someone tied to her darkening heart by a golden thread.

Someone like her mate.

Notes: My humble offering for @elucienweekofficial. This fic is a post-ACOSF story — and very close to my heart as it’s based on the very first one-shot I’ve ever written.

Tags: Post-ACOSF, Canon Compliant, NSFW

Read on AO3 || Chapter 1 || Masterlist

Chapter 5 - Leave My Body Glowing

Helion did not show up for breakfast the next morning. Elain ate in solitude, since Lucien had gone—well, only the Gods knew where. He’d been up before sunrise, the sudden absence of his heartbeat ripping her from sleep.

Strangely, no nightmares had plagued her last night. She’d woken up to the soft whoosh of the sea the palace overlooked, and the soft neighing of a pegasus somewhere above her bedchamber. She watched it roam happily in the sky as the sun had fully come into view, something like content settling in her chest as she snacked on the colourful pastries the maids had delivered earlier.

She’d asked for their help in dressing—there was no way Elain would ask Lucien for advice—and, to Elain’s utter delight, they absolutely delivered. She stood in front of her wall-length mirror now, her reflection almost unrecognisable as a new woman stared back.

Female, Elain reminded herself, though no bitterness accompanied the thought this time. Her mind seemed too occupied with the change to resort to its usual storm of regret and anger, instead soaking up the light beaming from her reflection.

Elain looked like she’d been born to live in the Day Court.

Her corseted gown had been replaced by a flowy dress of rich sapphire—a thread similar to that worn by the High Lord yesterday, the colour resembling the surface of Day’s quiet sea as it soaked up the afternoon sky. The fabrics fell just below her knees loosely, flowing like a gentle breeze as she moved and revealing her legs—the golden sandals adorning her feet. Their heels clicked lightly on the marble floor with every step, making her feel giddy—like a sudden surge of joy rushing through her despite such simple of an accessory. She’d even asked one of the maids to line her eyes with kohl, a thin, slightly curled line at her lashes, pigmented with a colour similar to that of the gown, bringing out the brown of her eyes and making them look like pools of honey. She looked so different to the female from yesterday—and yet, it was still Elain looking back at her in the mirror. She still had her full lips, though they were curled up in an open smile now instead of their usual tight expression, her whole body relaxed and seemingly flowing along with the morning breeze.

It carried her all the way to the library as Elain walked to the High Lord’s famed collection, praying Lucien had not yet managed to find his way there, giving her at least a few minutes to do some research of her own.

A Day Court scholar she’d bumped into on the way—an elderly male carrying what seemed like a mountain of scrolls and texts, their combined weight surely exceeding his own—directed her toward the tall door at the end of a corridor decorated with sandstone walls and ivory statues. This part of the palace seemed older, somehow, more ancient than the marbled floors and pillars of her own wing, as though the foundations of the library held as much important history as the knowledge they stored.

Elain was not entirely sure what to expect from the space, but not even in her wildest dreams could she have imagined the sight unravelled before her.

Helion’s grand library spanned across what seemed to be the full height of the palace, climbing at least seven floors upward until she could no longer see anything but the sunlight pouring in through the ceiling—or rather the lack of it, as Elain realised, with no glass dome shielding the circular space. Instead, the sun shone freely into the halls, Helion’s own magic no doubt shielding the parchments and tomes from the weather and any other outside disruptions. Somehow, Elain doubted it ever rained here, the land seemingly covered in perpetual light and guarded by bright, fluffy clouds.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent of heavy tomes and dried-up ink. There were so many books in here that she doubted even a lifetime of immortality would be enough to make her way through them all. Elain began making her way inside, through the endless walls of bookshelves and desks, with piles upon piles of documents stacked in every corner of the space, the overwhelming prospect of knowledge and information like a magnet pulling in her sight. Her eyes flickered from one shelf to another, growing wider and wider at the sheer amount, her heart quickening as she realised just how much there was to be learned about the world.

She hadn’t ever left the human lands beneath the Wall—and then, in this new life, she’d hidden deep in the Night Court, dreaming about the home she’d abandoned. She had no idea…

Her steps carried her to the second floor as thought with a mind of their own, and Elain did not realise she found herself in a secluded section of tomes shining a spectrum of vibrant greens and yellows, the texts practically calling out her name. She moved in closer, hands reaching for a heavy tome with an elegant, leathery cover of a grassy shade of green. A small gasp escaped her lips as she opened it, a hand-painted picture of tulips gleaming softly from the page.

The text beneath read, The Tulip Fields of Cordana—a small human kingdom bordering the faerie lands deep into the Continent. Elain’s heart quickened as her father’s words came back to life in her mind.

My dear Elain, I promise to take you there one day. The fields are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—other than my lovely daughters, of course, he’d added quickly, making Elain giggle.

Her mother died shortly after that, and then…well.

Her father was right, though. Elain didn’t need to stand in the fields to marvel at their beauty. The bright colours of yellow and pink and amethyst were vibrant even on the yellowed page, and Elain began reading through the fields’ history, nearly devouring the story of the young human queen who’d first planted them centuries ago.

She was just flipping the page when a smooth, quiet voice sounded behind her. “Tulips?”

Elain jolted—and winced as a sharp sting cut through her finger, the paper slicing her skin when she whined back.

“Shit!” she swore as droplets of blood began beading at the small wound, staining the old page with a fresh red.

Lucien chuckled. “I had no idea you were capable of such foul language,” he mocked.

She glared at him. “Helion is going to kill me—I hope you know I’m going to tell him whose fault this was.”

But Lucien did not seem to mind, his gaze elsewhere as he stepped back an inch, sweeping it over her form. Her own heartbeat picked up as she heard his breath catch in his throat, mouth parting slightly in surprise as he took her in—the long, exposed legs, the bare skin of her shoulders, the golden-brown hair framing her face in loose, cascading waves. The sapphire-lined eyes as she returned his gaze, waiting for him to say something—anything before her cheeks truly and openly heated under his stare.

“You…” he started, the word no more than a gasp on his lips.

“Yes?” she asked, her own question breathless.

Lucien’s throat bobbed as he opened his mouth—but then, his gaze slid down to her hand.

“You’re hurt,” he managed to say.

“What?” Elain followed his gaze. “Oh. Oh—it’s nothing.” She looked back to him again. “Where were you this morning?”

Lucien ignored the question. “Why don’t you heal it?” he asked tightly, his body growing rigid with the question. He was holding himself back, she realised, something—that beast—purring in her chest as her Fae instincts responded to his own. He’d scented her blood, the same way she’d scented his during the War—and Elain knew that, unreasonable as it was, everything inside him bellowed to protect.

Elain swallowed hard. “It’s fine—it’s just a cut.”

“Still.”

“I don’t—I mean, I simply don’t see the point—”

Lucien’s eyes flickered back to hers at that, something like surprise shining in his stare. “You don’t know how, do you?”

Anger simmered in her at last—finally, an emotion she was familiar with. She’d take it any day over this—over this hot breathlessness in her chest, one that would not stop burning until it got what it wanted. Touch him, smell him, taste him.

No, anger was good. “You have no right to speculate—”

Lucien laughed—actually laughed, a deep, throaty sound as though her frustration amused him. “Are you telling me they never taught you? It’s really quite simple, Elain.”

“I never asked,” Elain seethed now, “It’s not natural—”

She stopped herself before the sentence fully spilled from her tongue, as if some ancient magic was mercifully holding her back. 

Too late. Frowning, Lucien asked, “Not natural?” He stepped in closer, backing her into the sandstone wall. “Elain, magic is the most natural thing in the world. It’s part of you—“

“Stop,” Elain breathed.

“Why?”

“It’s not—it isn’t part of me,” she said, the words no more than a whisper—as that ancient magic could hear. “It can’t be. I didn’t—I didn’t ask for it.”

I didn’t ask for you.

Lucien said, his voice strangely quiet, “I know. But sometimes…sometimes we have to make do with what we’re given.”

There was something in his tone that made her pause—that made her want to ask him more. Had someone hurt him the way she’d been hurt? Had he lost, too, had it drowned him, pulled him into the same desperate darkness?

Elain couldn’t—could not do what he said. Could not simply accept it and move on—not when she was so close, so close to…to going back.

Lucien’s eyes softened. “Then allow me,” he said, and placed her hand in his palm.

He’d never touched her before.

Her hand was small against his, his broad warmth enveloping her, wrapping itself around the cut until she could no longer feel it stinging. Her veins pulsed as the golden thread began thrumming around her rib, pulling her closer toward him, begging her to move until their bodies became one.

Elain forced herself still, every nerve inside her fighting to keep from trembling.

Lucien strained against her, too, but his gaze remained focused on the bleeding finger, a soft glow starting to gleam from his hand. She watched, transfixed as the wound soaked up the light, waiting for it to close—except that, a few seconds after, nothing seemed to have changed.

Elain’s brow arched. “Quite simple, huh?” she teased, unable to help herself.

But Lucien’s attention remained fixed on the wound—the blood still thick at its hem. “It’s…not me.”

Elain froze. “What do you mean?”

A bead of sweat formed at his hairline. “I’m trying to heal it, but—it’s like your magic…there’s something in it that’s holding me back.”

Elain kept her face cool. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s like…” he continued, entirely focused on the feeling, “like a thorn in a rose. Like the stem will not smooth out until you remove it, but—” He frowned.

My magic is part of you now, little Seer, that silky voice slid into her mind with the memory. It will live in your veins, a symbol of our bargain, until you fulfil your end.

“—but it’s almost like healing is against its nature,” Lucien finished, stunned.

“That can’t be true,” Elain countered, her mind racing for an excuse. “I’ve been healed before—after…after Hybern—”

Lucien stilled for a moment. Then, “Hold on—just let me…” the words faded as he frowned again, his eyes closing as his palm emitted a new light—a golden light, like the the thread that connected their souls.

There was a tug—the tug—somewhere in her chest, and Koschei’s magic…it recoiled.

Elain tried not to gasp as the wound closed slowly, not even a thin scar creasing her skin—even the blood vanishing under the healing light.

A second later, and he was done.

“There,” he said quietly. “I know you asked me not to,” he added, knowing perfectly well she knew what he was referring to, “but I…I had to try.”

Elain swallowed. “Thank you.”

Lucien smiled, not entirely teasing as he said, “I think this is the first time you’ve ever said that to me.”

Elain huffed, making him chuckle.

“So, tulips?” he asked.

Elain blinked, the spell gone entirely as she stepped back, her cover still intact. “It doesn’t matter.” The tulips were part of her old life—unlike him. She’d see them when she was turned, and Lucien…And she wouldn’t see Lucien again.

She wasn’t sure why her heart clenched at the thought.

Lucien’s face fell an inch. “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I found something.”

Elain thanked the Gods for the change in subject. “Oh?”

Lucien nodded. “Come.”

She followed him a floor up, to what had to have been the darkest corner of the library—as though even the sunlight wanted to shy away from the secrets it held. The sandstone was older here, a deeper shade of beige, scraped by the passing years. There were no scholars roaming this wing—strange, Elain thought, when the tomes seemed to almost sing of the knowledge they possessed. Their subtle hum slid beneath her skin, stirring her blood, as though compelling her to reach out for them as she and Lucien stopped in front the bookshelf standing farthest from the light.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Lucien’s auburn brows knitted as he looked at her. “Hear…what?”

Oh.

“I must’ve imagined it,” Elain lied. “So what did you find?”

“Elain.” One word—not exactly a warning, but…a plea. As if it took everything inside him not to beg her to push him away.

She gave in—just this one time. “The books, they…” she hesitated, wondering how to best phrase the feeling without sounding like an utter lunatic. “I think they may be enchanted. It feels like they’re calling out to me.”

Lucien looked at her incredulously. “They know your name?”

She listened in—but the song seemed more of a melody than a language—and if it was a language indeed, it was not one Elain was in any way familiar with. “No,” she finally decided. “But…I think they can feel my magic, and it resonates with whatever the books had been spelled with.”

Lucien loosed a shaky breath. “That would make sense.”

Elain frowned. “How?”

He reached up for one of the brownish tomes, resting on a shelf far above Elain’s head—far out of reach. Elain’s eyes trailed the movement—focusing, to her exasperation, less on the book itself but on Lucien’s hand, the same one that had just been holding hers, his sun-warmed skin soft as it welcomed her touch.

She ran a hand through her curls nervously, Lucien’s own eyes darting towards them as he wordlessly handed her the book. “What is it?” she asked him.

Lucien did not look at her as he explained, “You’ve grown out your hair.”

That, Elain did not expect. “Oh. Yes, I—I suppose I did.”

There was a moment of silence, as if Lucien was weighing the risk of his words before he finally said, “It suits you.”

She could have sworn the thread glimmered in answer.

Elain swallowed the light, “So what’s in that book?”

Lucien hid it well—the disappointment. She tried not to let it affect her as he said, “Open it. Page two hundred forty-six.”

She did as instructed, carefully flipping through the nearly disintegrated pages—the books must have been centuries, if not millennia old, no doubt preserved by the library’s magic—until she found the one she was looking for.

“Is that…” she begun, unable to find the words. She’d never been there personally, but Feyre and Nesta’s stories had been painted vividly enough that she recognised the blurry image immediately.

“The Prison,” Lucien nodded. “And this,” he pointed to an old, wrinkled creature, its teeth sharp and exposed, “is the Bone Carver.”

Elain countered, “I thought he looked different.”

“He could appear as whatever he wished. This must be how the author saw him. From what this text says,” he added, pointing to the strange language Elain did not recognise, “the image haunted him until the end of his days.”

Elain asked, “How does this relate to the Trove?”

“Take a look at what he’s holding.”

She glanced at the page. “Well, obviously—a bone. But—” she looked in closer. “Oh.”

Lucien nodded. “This one is different. The bone is curved—like in the image I told you about.”

“The one Nesta’s friend found?”

“Yeah. That one was U-shaped, too. And, look—this one isn’t matted, or scraped, even. There are no old bloodstains, either. It’s too clean, too pristine to not be magical.”

“And it gleams, too,” Elain murmured.

Lucien looked at her weirdly. “It does?”

Elain shifted on her feet. “You don’t see it?”

He hummed. “No. This only confirms my theory—this bone is calling out to you, a Seer, even through the page. Like a pet to its master.”

Elain shivered. “I-I still don’t think we need the Bone,” she stuttered, repeating the same words she’d told him when he’d announced their sudden trip to Day. “We’ve been making progress—with Vassa, that is—I can do it, I can find out how—how to kill him, without it.”

“Elain,” Lucien pressed softly. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” she argued. She needed to be back at the house—needed to find the box Lucien must’ve hidden before her time was up.

“Aren’t you tired of being in the dark?” he asked her, making her limbs grow still. “Of not knowing? This Trove could hold all the answers—could help you navigate and understand your visions. Gwyneth even said…she said it could alleviate the pain, too.”

Elain whispered, “You know about the pain?”

He hesitated.

“Lucien,” she urged.

“I feel it,” he said quietly. “I feel it when you sleep. Every night—your visions, all of endless pain. Of fire—and of death.” He released a long, long breath. “Elain—”

“We need to return to the Night Court,” Elain cut in, her voice unrecognisable even to herself. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—speak to him about the bond. Not when…not when it threatened to consume her.

Not when the idea started to no longer fill her soul with dread.

Lucien looked at her until she began to worry he might not speak to her at all.

“We need to visit the Prison,” she pressed.

Lucien sighed, resignation rolling off of him in waves. “We’re going to need an escort.”

Elain nodded, a new plan already sprouting to life in her head. “Alright.”

His eyes dimming, Lucien turned away, his voice quiet as he said, “I will contact Feyre immediately.”

———

“No,” Nesta said immediately.

Lucien chuckled.

“I’m going,” Elain pressed, shooting him a glare.

“Elain,” her sister repeated. “It isn’t safe—”

“Lucien will be there with me,” she said, and thought the words had been meant to appease Nesta, Elain found that they brought her comfort, too.

Surprise flickered from across the room, quickly followed by something else—a deep, intoxicating heat, like the midday sun warming her skin. Elain didn’t have to turn to know its source—to feel Lucien’s gaze on her, his mouth no doubt twisted in a purely male, smug smile.

Lucien was not the only one her words seemed to have affected—Feyre watched, too, from where she and Rhysand sat on the couch, little Nyx babbling happily as she bounced him on her knees. Her younger sister angled her head curiously, Rhys’s lips twitching beside her—Elain had no doubt the two of them were already passing their comments mind-to-mind. She sighed, exasperated—there was nothing between her and Lucien—other than the very unfortunate fact that he seemed to be the key to her finally getting what she truly desired.

Which was not a mate. Especially not an infuriating, cocky, completely improper—

“Elain knows what she’s doing,” came his response. He shot her a wry smile. “And if she doesn’t, she’ll be safe with me.” Lucien looked at Nesta. “You have my word.”

Nesta’s jaw tightened as she turned to Elain. “And there is no changing your mind on this?”

Elain loosed a sigh of relief. “No.”

“Nesta,” Feyre interjected. “I will be there, too.” The Prison’s enchantments had always required the presence of Night’s High Lord—or Lady—to even enter the structure at all.

The eldest Archeron gritted her teeth. “I just—I don’t understand why you need to go there at all. The Bone Carver is dead—what good will going to his cell do?”

“Elain might find some answers there,” Rhysand supplied smoothly, “or clues, even. Revisiting his old…” he hesitate, “home—could potentially trigger a vision.”

“Potentially is not good enough for me,” Nesta barked.

“It is for me,” Elain said firmly. “We’re going.”

Her tone left no room for argument, and Nesta pinched the bridge of her nose—a habit she seemed to have picked up from Cassian, a fact that made Elain stir. She glanced at Lucien quickly, her gaze sweeping over his stance to see if it mirrored her own—but Lucien simply stood there, leaning against Feyre’s couch, his powerful arms crossed over his chest. He’d rolled up his sleeves, Elain noted, golden-brown muscles on display under the afternoon light.

Get it together, she scowled at the beast. It only smirked at her in return.

Feyre sighed, handing her son over to Rhys. Nyx cooed as his father’s arms wrapped around him, wings rising over his head as though preparing for flight.

Rhys chuckled, “Soon, buddy. I promise.”

Elain’s smile faded. Soon, Nyx’s aunt would be human again—when would she see him again? When would she see Feyre and Nesta? When would she see…?

“Are you alright?” Lucien’s voice sounded beside her. She didn’t even notice when he’d stepped in to her side.

Elain simply nodded, turning to Feyre. “We should go now. There’s no…there’s no time to waste.”

After all, she only had a few days.

Bring me the box, little Seer, and you will be human again.

Feyre rose, reaching out a hand. “When we cross the gates, we’re going to have some…company,” she said mysteriously. “Try not to listen to them. They’ll say anything to get you to try and free them.”

Elain nodded, swallowing the tightness in her throat.

Feyre’s blue-grey eyes softened. “Ready?”

“Wait,” Nesta stopped them. She took a step towards her, pulling something from the sheath strapped to her side.

Something long, and sharp. Gleaming.

“This is the dagger I Made,” Nesta explained, then looked at Lucien with a mocking smile. “Your brother had been quite displeased about it slipping from his grasp. I want you to take it,” she said to Elain, a quiet worry filling her gaze. “Just in case.”

Elain swallowed. She didn’t take well to knives.

“Please,” Nesta only said.

The word had never come easily to her sister—and perhaps that was why Elain silently accepted, Nesta’s shoulders loosening with relief.

Feyre nodded, slipping a tattooed hand into Elain’s. “You know where to winnow?” she asked Lucien, who nodded.

A thick, slithering cloud began forming around them—reality folding in on itself, leaving nothing but darkness in its wake. The living room blurred out, and the last thing she saw were Nyx’s eyes, the crushing blue twinkling curiously at his family.

“See you on the other side, Cursebreaker,” Lucien grinned.

Elain closed her eyes and did not open them until a hard wall of wind slammed into her.

The Prison waited beneath the cliff, its very foundations thrumming with the power it contained. Elain let her gaze adjust to the building storm above, the dark waves crashing furiously into the rock. Beside her, Feyre seemed tense, as though lost in the memory of her last time there—or perhaps anxious for what laid ahead.

Lucien looked at them both, his long, auburn hair swept back and floating with the angry wind. “Shall we?”

Elain shivered. “We shall.”

They walked the pebbled path, Elain nearly slipping on the wet rocks as the sea spilled over. Lucien graciously offered his arm, no sly remark falling from his tongue—only his steady presence as they reached the iron entrance. The gates cried heavily as Feyre waved a hand, the ancient metal bending under the will of its High Lady, and finally, darkness enveloped them at last.

The very first thing Elain realised was how silent it was, not even a whisper of an echo as they descended down to the pit of the mountain’s belly. The shadows seemed to swallow every move, every breath, every bead of sweat from Elain’s forehead as she moved, her breathing falling flat.

Elain was not sure how long they walked. She clung to Lucien’s arm as he led them down behind Feyre, his soul the only source of light in the darkness. She could not see the light, perhaps—warm and golden, even in the coldest, most wretched of places.

“The Bone Carver rested beneath the roots of the mountain,” Feyre said quietly, answering the silent question she hadn’t dared to ask out loud. 

Elain nodded, though she doubted her sister could somehow see the movement.

“Do you need some water?” Lucien’s soft voice brushed past her ear. “Thank you,” Elain whispered, the first words she’d spoken since they entered. She could almost feel his smile as he drank. Yet another thank you in one day, his soul teased playfully. I should consider myself a very lucky male.

Elain rolled her eyes, though the tension washed down her body all the same.

“We’re here,” Feyre announced after a few minutes, though all Elain could make out was a smooth wall of stone.

But then her sister pressed her palm to it, and the stone trembled beneath it, tattoos swirling atop her skin. Both Lucien and Elain watched with their mouths agape as the stone shifted and morphed into bone, the ivory gates revealing another space of darkness behind.

Elain did not have the time to study the old markings carved into the gates, a familiar voice penetrating her, smooth and deep.

“Hello, little traitor,” Lucien said.

Elain whirled back.

“What did you say?” she asked breathlessly.

Lucien frowned, the soft glow from Feyre’s palm illuminating his confusion. “I didn’t say anything.”

A low chuckle. “I’ve never known Seers to be so blind.”

Elain shook violently, Lucien’s confusion shifting into concern. “Elain, what’s wrong?” he asked, placing two, strong hands atop her shoulders, her body instinctively leaning into his chest.

“Good,” Lucien’s voice giggled. “Good, little traitor. Lean into your mate before you burn his bones to ash.”

Her breathing came short, her hands trembling as she placed them atop Lucien’s chest. “I don’t understand.”

Feyre angled her head. “Is someone speaking to you?”

“I—I thought it was Lucien,” Elain panted. “He sounds like Lucien.”

“What did he say?” Lucien asked carefully.

“Tell him, Elain Archeron. Tell your mate you’re only here to betray him.” Another giggle—an ugly sound, one she’d never heard fall from Lucien’s mouth, one that seemed to claw at her very bones.

“Who are you?” she breathed.

Lucien squeezed her shoulders. “Elain—”

“Why does your heart race at your mate’s touch, pretty Seer? Does it not still long for another?”

“It does,” Elain said immediately, Koschei’s magic purring in her veins at the words. “It does—”

“What does, Elain?” Feyre asked, urgency rushing into her tone. “Who are you talking to?”

“Very well, then. I suppose you could call me…a memory,” not-Lucien said, the sound coming from somewhere behind her now.

“Elain—”

“From the past?” Elain asked, turning away from Lucien’s warm chest.

The voice clicked its tongue in disappointment. “How truly helpless you are, little Seer. You should know by now that the lines between past, present and future are as blurred as they get.”

Elain breathed, “What does that mean?”

His next chuckle came from behind her back. “It means you should finally open your eyes.”

Elain whirled again, meeting a pair of gold and russet, shining with concern.

“Tell me how to help you,” Lucien begged, desperation creeping into his voice—his real voice, grounding her to reality.

Elain loosed a breath. “I…I think it was the Bone Carver.”

Feyre stepped in closer to them both. “The Bone Carver is dead, Elain,” she reminded her, the cell sounding with a quiet laugh at the words.

Elain shook her head. “No—a part of him—a part of him is still…” she trailed off, finally calm enough to look around the cave.

“Now you See,” the voice purred.

She could make out the gleam beneath the earth even without the ball of sunlight shining in Feyre’s hand. It rippled as she approached, glistening an almost blinding white.

“Come closer, little Seer,” it crooned. “Come closer to me.”

“Elain,” Feyre’s warning came distantly from somewhere behind her.

Elain stopped an inch from the gleam. “It’s here,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

A warm presence enveloped her once more. “What is?”

But Elain didn’t respond, transfixed on the quiet hum coming from deep beneath, her mind once more being pulled into a daze.

“Touch me, pretty traitor. Take what you deserve.”

Elain crouched, reaching for the ground—

A strong hand wrapped around her wrist. “Elain.”

Elain blinked. “Lucien?”

He nodded, lacing their fingers together, her skin tingling at the touch. “What is it that you’re seeing?” he asked softly.

Clarity sucked her in once more. “Lucien,” she repeated. “We need to dig.”

“What do you see?” Feyre asked, parroting Lucien’s question.

“The Bone,” Elain answered. “It gleams beneath the earth.”

Feyre’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible.” She looked to the ground where Elain pointed, squinting as though trying to make out the supposed shine. “The Bone…but why wouldn’t he…?”

“We need to dig,” Elain said again. Lucien wasted no time.

His magic tore through the earth, the rock cracking beneath its weight, Elain directing its direction quietly. The Fourth Trove—all this time…It couldn’t have been.

And yet, with Lucien’s final surge of power into the rock, a curved, white bone was revealed, resting between the cracks of the earth. Unstained by as much as a droplet of blood.

“That bastard,” Feyre whispered. The voice chuckled again, the sound echoing off the stone.

Elain reached for it again.

“Wait,” Lucien said. “You shouldn’t—not yet. Not until we know it’s safe.”

Elain hesitated. “I think it has to be me.”

“We don’t risk it,” Feyre agreed. “We’ll take the Trove to the House—it’ll be safer without all those prisoners around us.”

That was enough for Elain to agree. If there was any chance the Bone’s powers could release the creatures that lurked in the Prison’s darkness, she was more than content to wait.

Feyre waved a hand, her magic making the Bone float upwards and into the High Lady’s palm.

“Bad call.”

The cave shook.

Elain started, “What is happening—”

“My purpose is complete. Good luck, little traitor.” A final, bone-shuddering laugh. “If you manage to get out of here alive, that is.”

The stone above their heads began to crack.

“Elain!” Lucien roared, and before she could blink, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her as they lunged forward. A second later, a rock the size of her head fell exactly to where she’d kneeled a moment ago.

Elain gaped at him. “Lucien—”

“No time,” Feyre panted beside them. “Let’s get out of there.”

Elain took Lucien’s hand as they ran out, the cave roaring behind them. Blood rushed in her ears, too hot and loud to hear Feyre’s shouted commands as she led them past the ivory gates, the same bones that had survived millennia now crumbling into dust, one by one. Elain looked back just in time to see the cave collapse.

The only thing Elain could see in the darkness was the faint gleam of the Bone in Feyre’s hand, the excited purring of the Prison’s captives leading them back upwards. There was no time to take breaks now, and even time seemed to pass by quicker as they ran, three heartbeats melting into one sound of pure, unrestrained terror.

The greyish light of the sky finally came into view, the Prison gates towering high above them as Feyre grasped at one of the iron bars.

“Feyre,” Lucien breathed. “What—”

Feyre shoved the Bone into Lucien’s hand. “I need to get Rhysand,” she panted. “Take her—take her to the manor. Take her to safety.” She looked him straight in the eyes, determination momentarily replacing her panic as the High Lady commanded, “Now.”

Lucien did not need to be told twice. His arms wrapped around her waist once more, and with that, the crumbling Prison vanished.

———

“We need to go back,” Elain told Lucien a second later.

Lucien ran a shaky hand through his hair. “We have a mission to complete, Elain.”

“Not yet,” Elain pressed, Koschei’s ticking clock no longer of importance. “Not until we make sure they’re okay.”

“Feyre gave me the Bone for a reason, Elain,” Lucien said, his expression pained. “We will go back as soon as we can.” He squeezed her hand, still placed safely in his own. “They have each other. They’ll be okay.”

Elain loosed a breath and closed her eyes. They would be okay—her sister and Rhysand both held a power she’d never been able to fully grasp, as though the very darkness coiled within their shared souls. If anyone could contain the magic ruining the Prison…it would be the High Lord and Lady of the Night. Together.

Elain opened her eyes. “Alright.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Jurian asked, a shivering Vassa following closely behind him. It only took one look for the General to understand, his brown eyes wide as he saw Lucien’s face. “Get inside.”

Elain had to physically keep from running as they navigated the corridor, its dim light welcoming her back—so different from the sunlit halls of Day. This morning seemed like forever ago.

They finally reached the living room, Jurian gently leading Vassa to the couch. The sun had only just set, Elain realised—Vassa must’ve turned back minutes ago, if not less. “Are you alright?” she asked the queen carefully.

Jurian glowered at her. “A side effect from the elixir.” He looked at Lucien. “She’s cold.”

Vassa waved a hand. “It’s nothing worth mentioning,” she said. Jurian looked inclined to protest, and she added with a sigh, “Not yet, at least.”

That seemed to appease him enough. The Mad General turned to the two Fae in front of him again, his gaze immediately darting to the Trove in Lucien’s hand. “Is that…”

Lucien nodded. “We got it.”

Vassa seemed a little breathless. “Have you used it?”

“We’re about to,” Elain said. “There…there is no time to waste.”

Vassa nodded. “Do you need me?” she asked, reaching out her palm without a second of hesitation. Jurian growled lowly.

“I think…It’s safer if I do it myself.” Jurian grunted his agreement.

Lucien looked into her eyes before handing her the Trove. “Elain,” he began. “I…I’m here if you need me.”

Elain swallowed. “I know.” And with that, she wrapped her fingers around the Bone.

Tell me how to get what I desire, she asked it silently.

What appeared before her made her chest clenched so tight all the air was knocked out from her lungs.

She was still at the manor—still veiled in that old, dusty dimness, still waiting on the mole-eaten couch, except…

“Are you alright, Elain?” Graysen asked her, blue eyes shining with concern.

Elain only stared.

“I’ve asked for some tea to be made for you,” he continued, the words strangely resembling one of the last conversations they’d ever had. “Chamomile, right?”

“Jasmine,” Elain choked out.

“Oh. Right.”

She was back—Elain was back home, with her fiancé less than a few feet away from her. Making her tea. 

So why did her chest still feel so tight?

Elain's gaze fell.

An iron ring glinted atop her finger.

A pale-skinned palm covered it as it took her hand into its own. “I’ve missed you,” Graysen said. “You’ve been away far too long.”

She wasn’t sure she was breathing anymore. “You did?”

“Of course,” Graysen said, as if the answer was obvious. “All I ever thought about was having my beautiful Elain back in my arms.”

Something flitted in the window behind him, Elain’s eyes darting toward the movement.

Her heart stopped entirely as a large, tawny owl winked back at her.

Elain’s gasp made her choke on air, like a drowning person being pulled out from underwater. She coughed into her hand, the Bone discarded on the cushion beside her, a soothing hand on her back.

“Breathe, Elain,” Lucien commanded softly. “Breathe.”

The vision ended as abruptly as it had begun, but Elain couldn’t help but look past the window—and her shoulders fell as she realised that the only thing staring back at her was the starless night. “I think,” she breathed out, “I’m going to need some practice.”

“What did you see?” Jurian asked, wasting no time on letting her adjust.

What, indeed?

She’d asked the Trove to show her how to get what she desired—and the Trove, an object of a power so ancient had shown her her human life. Was that the future awaiting her? Had it meant…

Elain’s eyes burned.

Had it meant she had a chance?”

“Well?” Jurian urged.

But Elain looked at Lucien, his gaze still shining with concern—as though the Bone, the vision, mattered as little as the dust the Bone Carver’s legacy had turned into.

He was a good male, Elain realised—in some way, she had always known. He was cocky and infuriating, yes, but it was his presence that pulled her back when she needed it most. And if Graysen really was the future awaiting her, then Lucien…Lucien deserved happiness, too. Not a mate who’d been…who’d been thrown at him. Not a mate who was no more than a lie. A mistake.

The thought should have brought her peace. But all Elain felt was the suffocating dark as she told them all, “I know how to kill him. I know…I know how to kill Koschei.”

Vassa stifled a sob.

Jurian narrowed his gaze on her. “How?”

“Jurian,” Lucien cut in, his voice calm yet stern. “There’s no need to be so hostile anymore—Elain risked her life to find the Trove.” He looked at her with more certainty than anyone else ever had in her life as he added, “We can trust her.”

No, Elain thought, her heart rotting into mould her chest. You can’t.

She could no longer look into his eyes. She had gone too far now to even dare.

I’m sorry, Lucien.

“There is a box,” Elain told Jurian, her voice unable to keep from shaking. She could only hope they dismissed it for nervousness—not the cold, piercing guilt eating up the last of her aching heart. “Koschei’s soul is stored within it. The only way to kill him is to destroy it.”

Come on, the rot in her blood urged. Say you have it. Tell me where.

Elain was too weak to stop it.

Lucien, Jurian and Vassa exchanged one look before the decision was made.

“I stole it,” Vassa said thickly. “When your father struck a deal with Koschei—I took it from him and hid it, hoping that, one day, I could barter it back for what he took from me.”

Her humanity.

Elain would never atone for this.

Lucien waved a hand, a flicker of light appearing at his fingertips. A gasp tore from her as the onyx box came into view as though it had been crafted from thin air, floating downward until it rested atop the splintered, wooden table.

Well done, my sweet, the box seemed to purr.

Jurian simply said, “Tell us how.”

Bile rose in Elain’s throat with the lie, too quick to stop as she uttered, “You must place it atop Koschei’s lake. The magic beneath the water works against the laws of nature, crying out with the women he’d enslaved into swans. It will seek to punish him—it will weaken the box, allowing you to strike.”

The Band of Exiles looked at each other wordlessly.

“We must go to the Continent,” Elain managed before her throat gave out entirely.

Lucien only nodded, her command the only instruction he needed. “I will contact the Night Court immediately.”

———

“Rest, girl.”

Feyre shook her head, the movement alone making the world spin around her.

“Rest,” Amren pressed. “You and Rhysand have done enough.”

A warm hand rested at her back. “I will take her to bed.”

The female nodded, silver eyes sharp. “Cassian is on site. Nesta will join him shortly—for now, the wards are contained.”

Beside her, Rhysand loosed a shaky breath. “Good. Thank you, Amren.”

“Yes, well. You know how much you owe me.”

He managed a laugh, the sound strained even more than his depleted power. “Make sure to bill it to my office.”

Amren huffed. “You need to rest, too, you know.” And with that, she was gone.

Rhys sighed deeply. “Let’s go, Feyre,” he said, slipping his hand into hers. “There’s not much more we can do now.”

She began to protest, but Rhys’s warm lips on her temple were enough to stop her in her tracks. “I’m so tired,” Feyre admitted.

“Let’s go to bed. We can stay there forever, if you’d like.”

Feyre nodded, taking a swaying step forward.

Forever did not last long enough—did not even truly manage to begin as the study shook, the snapping sound of Rhysand’s wards being cleaved in two their only warning as a blinding light erupted at its centre.

Helion Spell-Cleaver’s booming presence was enough to sharpen every last one of her nerves as the High Lord of Day appeared in their study, sunlight scorching around him without mercy. “Tell me, Cursebreaker,” Helion began, his voice just barely restraining his anger, “When were you going to tell me about my son?”

Elucien Week Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @melting-houses-of-gold @areyoudreaminof @fieldofdaisiies @kingofsummer93 @witchlingsandwyverns @gracie-rosee @stickyelectrons @selesera @sv0430 @vulpes-fennec @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @screaming-opossum @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @spell-cleavers @starfall-spirit @lectoradefics @this-is-rochelle @goldenmagnolias @labellefleur-sauvage @bookeater34 @capbuckyfalcon @betterthaneveryword @tasha2627 @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #elain acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

🏅Being Team Japan's Manager 🏅

💔Relationship Troubles with Bokuto 💗

Bokuto Kōtarō featuring Team Japan x Female Manager

Warnings: Swearing, Bokuto being a complete jerk, petname, angst to fluff, suggestive at the end 🙃

AN: Its a very Bokuto centered day 🥰This is an Anon request! I may have gotten a tiny bit carried away with this one. I also cried alot 🥲 I'm emotional when it comes to our boys 🥺 I'm really proud of this one ❤

🌠 Please Like, Reblog and/or Share to help support my writing 🌠

Oof this one is going to make me cry 😢

I already know it

And the fact that it's with our resident himbo 🥺

But it must be done and who else to deliver but yours truly 🤗

Your relationship with Bokuto has been going on for about 6 months now

You started out of friends when you joined Team Japan as their resident hotty 🔥 and manager 💅🏼

Honestly, Team Japan adores you YN

You lucky bitch 😒

But there was always something special about Bokuto

Pls he's such a bubbly Boi I just can't even 😫

Bokuto took an instant liking to you and you to him

Did he annoy you? Absolutely 💯

Did you find him attractive as all hell? Abso-FREAKING-lutely 🙌🏻

Bokuto is like what? 6'3" timeskip 👀

Lawd girl of you don't I will

N E WAYS, you two grew extremely close

Daily practices and nightly walks home

Consistent "HEY HEY HEY YN WATCH THIS!"

Giant Bear hugs and headpats

You would grab coffee or ever dinner sometimes

Of course, the other three idiots guys would accompany you occasionally as well

When Bokuto finally asked you out, it was very Bokuto-style

Super spontaneous and loud

Lile he literally walked you to your apartment door, was about to leave, turned around and shouted

"YN WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?"- Bokuto, zero chill

"Ko- we just went out..."- You, extremely confused

"No I mean, like a date"- Bokuto 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

YN of you take longer than a single second to answer this imma come there and smack you 🤚🏻

Someone summon Iwaizumi for me- 🏐

"Of course I will Kotaro"- You 🥺🤗

Good girl Yn ☺️

Please Bokuto is so excited he will pick you up and spin you around 🥰

God I love that for you 😐

Me, a jealous bish

Thus begins the ship know as BokuYN

The next few months go by quickly

Your relationship is tugging along and everything is going well

Unfortunately, the storm clouds are moving in YN 😔⛈️

And all good things can't last

It starts out small, everyone is so stressed with the Olympics coming up

Bokuto especially

Imagine all the pressure to be perfect and score points 😪 that has got to be so rough

Bokuto starts staying late for practice and heading home with you less frequently

You start eating dinner alone and he starts coming home later and later ☹️

One morning, you wake up and Bokuto isn't next to you

You try calling him but nothing

You show up to the gym and find him there with Kageyama, Atsumu and Hinata

You are confused as to what is going on 🤨

Like rightfully so

I mean what did they just sleep on the bleachers the night before?

I wouldn't put it past them honestly 😒

You approach them and ask what's going on

Atsumu is setting for Bokuto and he narrowly misses a line shot

"God dammit! Send up another one"- Bokuto, furious and sweating 😓

"Hey guys- have you been practicing all night?"- you, curious

"Nah we quit at 9 last night"- Kageyama getting a drink of water

Ok now your really confused 🤚🏻

You look at Bokuto who is setting up for another spike

"Ko you didn't come home last night"- you

He ignores you, spiking the ball

Ok then- 😐

Let's try this again shall we 🙃

"Kotaro did you hear me?"- you, now standing with your hands on your hips

Ope- someone's in trouble 😶

Atsumu, Hinata and Kags are now looking from you to Bokuto 👀

"I stayed with Hinata last night"- Bokuto, walking away from you, going to his phone and scrolling

Clearly his phone is working 😑

That's suspicious 🤨 that's weird

"And why would you do that?"- you, obviously upset

"Because I felt like it"- Bokuto

Not to be toxic here but that's not an answer dude 😒

"Ok but why- I texted you and you never got back to me. And it's clear your phone is fine since your looking at it right now"- YN, hands now in the air, just ready to go

"Maybe I just needed some fucking space YN"- Bokuto

Please now Aran, Yaku, Komori, Sakusa, Habuka,Ushijima,Hyakuzawa, amd Iwaizumi are all on the gym 🤚🏻

Silently observing 👀

"Are you serious right now? What did I do Ko?"- you, walking towards him

"YN I just need some fucking space! You're around me constantly and I can't fucking concentrate on these damn Olympics with you breathing down my neck all the time! Like all you ever do is talk talk talk and I'm so fucking sick of it! Just fucking leave me alone! If you did anything for this team besides stand around, maybe you'd understand my stress! But you always have to come first YN and Im fucking DONE!"- Bokuto, finally snapping

Oh he's pissed

Like fuming at you 😡😤

It's honestly so embarrassing he would say such things in front of everyone

You face heats and your fists tighten-

You don't even know what to do, so-

You just look up at him, tears filling your eyes

Ok everyone just breath ok

I mean, I'm crying 🥺

You know that feeling when your stomach just drops and you feel almost sick

That's what's happening now

The tears are welling up and it's about to happen

There is no stopping that crying YN and you shouldn't!

Bokuto essentially took your heart, threw it on the ground and stomped all over it

Nah he rolled over it with a steam roller and fed it through a wood chipper 😬

He broke you 😔

No matter how you try, a brave face isn't coming

So you do what you must

"Fine Bokuto. You don't want me bothering you anymore. Than consider me gone"- You, turning to walk out of the gym, tears flowing, past the other members of the team

Everyone is stunned 😲 and honestly same

Nobody expected this of Bokuto, like he's literally the last one I'd expect to do this

But the pressure was mounting and unfortunately YN, you were the catalyst

The gym is silent as Bokuto sets his water down, turning to face Atsumu

"Toss another one"- Bokuto, getting into place

Please these guys are PISSED and so confused 😕

"What the fuck was that-" Atsumu, the first to speak

As much as I bully this man, istg he's loyal as fuck

And while he loves Bokuto like a brother, he also loves you

"Bokuto that was so harsh man"- Habuka

"It needed to be said. She's been so clingy and needy. The Olympics are coming up and I need to practice"- Bokuto, starting to realize that he's the total ass in this situation but still holding face

He's a man 🙄😒

"You're an dumbass Bokuto"- Iwaizumi, turning to go and find you

"Bokuto sit down. You're done for today"- Aran

"The fuck I am-"

"The fuck you are because I said so"- Aran

Please Aran can be so fucking scary 😨

Bokuto will get right in his face

"Hey cool it you two!"- Hyakuzawa

"Bokuto- chill man"- Kageyama pulling him back

Hoshiumi finally comes in the gym

"Hey what's wrong with YN. I saw her leaving and she was crying"- Hoshiumi

It's all starting to sink in now-

"FUCK-" Bokuto, throwing his waterbottle against the wall and storming out

Everyone is just exhausted and it's showing

"Should we go after him?"- Hyakuzawa, the mediator of the group

"I think we should call Akaashi- this is over our heads"- Aran, leaving to get his phone and make the call

Meanwhile, you are now sitting on a bench, full on ugly crying

Snot down the face, tears everywhere, can't catch your breath BAWLING

🤚🏻 say less YN your heartbroken and its ok to cry 💔

Please I'm crying writing this and it's fiction 😭

"Hey YN- are you ok?"- Iwaizumi, coming to sit next to you

"No- no Hajime I'm not ok"- you, sucking in breath and trying to calm down

Spoiler alert: it's not working

"I think I need to go home Haji"- you

"You do that YN. And hey, it will be ok... I promise. I'll talk to him"- Iwaizumi

"Hajime, you heard him. He doesn't want me so give me one good reason why I should stay?"- you, hugging yourself and crying

"YN he's under a lot of stress. He shouldn't have said those things. You know he cares about you"- Iwaizumi, trying to save this

"YN please just listen-" I was our freaking savior

"Hajime, if he cared he wouldn't have said those things. If he cared, he would have avoided my texts and calls. He embarrassed me in there. You don't do that to someone you care about"- you, making an excellent point

"I'll see you later Haji. Thanks for being here"

You try and force a smile as tears stream down your face

Upon arriving at your apartment, you do nothing but mope

You say nothing more as you turn and walk away

You cry the entire way home, trying to hide your face from those around you

Honestly YN as you should 💅🏼

I'm like so mad at Bokuto right now you have no idea 🤬 you crawl into bed, covering yourself up and cry like there's no tomorrow

Back at the gym, Bokuto is sitting in the locker room with a towel hanging over his head

That bitchy voice inside your head telling you that everything was a lie and you were never good enough for Bokuto

You eventually manage to cry yourself to sleep 😔

He knows he fucked up... like MAJORLY fucked up

The stress of the Olympics had been weighing on our poor owl bby and the fact that he just can't hit his line shots

Iwaizumi comes in and sits next to him

"I fucked up bad"- Bokuto

"Yeah you fucking did asshole"- Iwaizumi not even beating around the bush

"Shit"- Bokuto, throwing his towel against the locker

"You need to chill out Bokuto. Your stress isn't helping anything right now. You said some pretty mean stuff to YN and she's really hurt"- Iwaizumi

"Did she leave?"- Bokuto

"Yeah- she went home"- Iwaizumi

"Fuck I have to talk to her-" Bokuto standing, fists clenched

"Hold up there cowboy. Give her some space man. You broke her heart dude. It's not going to be an easy fix. Wait a day, let it rest"- Iwaizumi

As much as he hated to do it, Bokuto let it rest

He went to his apartment, one he spent very little time in nowadays and tried to relax 😔

The next day, he arrived early to try and catch you

Only, you weren't there 😞

"Where's YN?"- Bokuto to Hoshiumi

"She didn't come in today. She called and told Aran she's taking personal time"

"God dammit!"- Bokuto, just about to punch the wall

Thankfully Sakusa is there to stop him

"Bo a broken hand isn't going to help man. You need to chill"- Sakusa

"Come on man, let's practice and then we can talk"- Hinata

"How can I practice without YN? Knowing I fucked up the best thing I ever had"- Bokuto, now a deflated Owl

"Well it's good to finally see you admit how much you care for YN"- Akaashi, with Kuroo at his side

"What are you doing here?"- Bokuto, genuinely confused 🤨

"Aran called me and well Kuroo heard through the grapevine"- Akaashi

Please Kuroo knows all the gossip

These boys talk more than old ladies in church

"Dude what is wrong with you? This isn't like you"- Kuroo

"I've been so stressed and I can't hit my line shots. I've been practicing day and night and nothing feels right"- Bokuto, now hunched over on the bleachers, surrounded by the peanut gallery

"Have you thought thay maybe your practicing too much Bo?"- Kageyama

Seriously he's one to talk 🙄

"I mean, what has YN said about you staying late for practice?"- Akaashi

"I haven't been around much- I've just been so stressed. And I just dont know"- Bokuto

"Well Bokuto, you have to decide what you want to do. If you want to break up with YN, I think you owe her an explanation. She at least deserves that. But if you want to make up with her-" Akaashi

"I DO! I really do! I thought alot last night and YN's been the one consistent good thing in my life. I- I think I love her"- Bokuto

Pls bby you were a jerk but you are breaking my heart 💔😫

"Well then you need to talk to her"- Kuroo

Bokuto knew this and he was so ready

Unfortunately you weren't 🙁

A knock sounded as you drag yourself to the door

The peep hole reveals Bokuto, standing there, hair deflated

You open the door and cross your arms

That's right YN! We are a powerful women and we will show it ✊🏻

"Hey YN, can we talk?"- Bokuto

"That's what we are doing-"

"YN please I'm so sorry- I was a complete asshole and jerk! I know I royally fucked up and god, YN I'm so sorry"- Bokuto

Tears are forming in this man's eyes

But also in yours 😟

"Bokuto-" you

"Ko, you call me Ko"- Bokuto

"Listen, I need time. What you said really hurt me and I'm not ready talk to you let alone see you. I just don't know if I can do this-" please the tears are rolling down your face but you're voice remains strong

"YN- please, just please"- Bokuto, full on crying

"Good night Bokuto"- You, shutting the door and breaking down

Please Bokuto hears you and it KILLS him 😭

He did that to you and he hates himself

The next few days drag

You return to your manager job but you try and steer clear of Bokuto

Unfortunately the team doesn't get that memo 😒

Please they are trying everything possible to get you to back together

You are miserable, Bokuto is EXTRA miserable

"YN can you wrap Bokuto's fingers? I have to do Komori's and Yaku's"- Iwaizumi

"I can do it Iwa" - Kageyama

Please that went right over his head

Iwaizumi is just staring at him like 👁➖️👁

You don't even say anything, just grab the tape and walk to Bokuto

The man towers over you so he is looking down at you while you wrap his fingers

"How are you?"- Bokuto, genuinely concerned

"Fine"- you, trying to just hold it together long enough to wrap those long fingers 👀

"You've lost some weight-" Bokuto

"Yeah I haven't been hungry"- You, unfortunately your voice cracks and you have to bite your lip to keep it from quivering

"YN, baby-" Bokuto, lifting your face up by your chin and looking into your watering eyes

He hates seeing you like this and knowing he caused it 🤧

"Done"- you, looking up and smiling a little, tears filling your eyes before you turn and walk out of the gym

Bokuto watches you go

And so do the others 👀

Nosey bitches 🙄💅🏼

Also side note: screw Iwa for throwing you under the bus like that 🖕🏻 imma Iwa cannon a volleyball at Iwa 😤

It's safe to say practice has been a little... well tense to say the least

Bokuto is getting blocked, missing cross court shots and liners left and right

It hurts you even more to see the man you love hurting

Wait 🤚🏻 love?

Oh hell yeah you love him YN

Just admit it 🙃

But no matter how much you love him, it doesn't take away how he treated you the past few weeks

And how much his words that day hurt

You're at a crossroads Yn and it's not an easy choice

Luckily for you, you have supportive friends

Wait, did I say supportive? I mean Atsumu and Hinata 🤣

But also Aran, Ushijima and Iwaizumi

Ok ok ill stop 😅

They stop by your place unexpectedly with food

"You need to eat"- Atsumu, pushing past you

"Don't think we haven't noticed YN"- Iwaizumi, coming in behind Atsumu

"Wow it's nice to see you too"- you 😐

"Hi YN, how are you doing?"- Aran, giving you a big hug

Please he gives amazing hugs 🥺

"Could be better"- you, now hugging Ushijima and Hinata

"YN how long are you going to do this?"- Atsumu

Aran and Iwaizumi 👉🏻🤦‍♂️🤦

"I hate to admit it YN but Atsumu is right. It's obvious you two love each other"- Ushijima

"Yeah"- you, sinking into the couch

"YN we know what he said hurt and we aren't telling you to just forget about it"- Aran

"But Bokuto is miserable YN. He's not eating, he's spending all his days at the gym and I know he's not sleeping"- Iwaizumi

"YN we know you're just as miserable so why don't you stop this"- Ushijima

"Just talk to him YN"- Hinata

Maybe, just maybe they have a point

You sigh and resign yourself to the fact that as much as Bokuto's words hurt you

You know that the stress of the Olympics and his hard training have worn on him

The next morning, you arrive at 6 am to start work

You hear the sound of balls being spiked against the floor of the gym

You know that sound, the exact sound of a Bokuto serve

You approach the door and peer in, seeing Bokuto tossing up another serve

The ball slams over, hitting right on the end line

"That was a nice shot"- you, walking into the gym

Bokuto stops and looks straight at you, mouth agape

You're talking to him- like actually conversing with him

And you PRAISED HIM 😭😭😭

"Thanks, what are you doing here?"- Bokuto

You giggle a little

Bokuto's heart swells

"Did you forget I come in early to set up?"- you

"Haha yeah I guess- I've just been doing it since- well-" - Bokuto rubbing the back of his neck

"Want me to set for you?"- You, taking a chance

Bokuto's head shots up 😳

"Really?" Please YN he's so happy he's smiling 🙂

"Yeah"- you taking position as Bokuto tosses to you and you set

Perfect cross court shot 😚🤌🏻

"Nice kill Ko!!"- you smiling and looking back at him

Please he's melting YN 😭

"First one I've gotten in all week"- Bokuto, his head down, rubbing his arms

What 😳

"Ko..."

"I'm miserable YN. I'm so fucking miserable. I can't sleep, I can't eat. Every single practice, I miss tosses, get blocked or the ball is out. I- I can't do this"- Bokuto, looking at you as tears roll down his face

"Ko come here"- you, reaching out for him as he comes to your arms for a hug 🫂

Please that man will hug you and never want to let you go

You pull back as he rests his forehead against yours

🥺 please I'm such a sap God WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME

"YN I know I don't deserve you but I need you to know that you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I know I fucked up and God I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry baby. I love you so much and I can't do this without you"- Bokuto, tears flowing

"I love you too Ko"- You, smiling with tears in your eyes

"You- you do?"- Bokuto, now smiling like a freaking idiot 😃

"Yeah I really do"- You

Please 🤚🏻 say less

This man is picking you up and swinging you in the air

"Ko, Jesus Ko calm down"- you, laughing and smiling

"I can't! The most amazing, beautiful women in the world loves me"- Bokuto, finally setting you down

"Yeah I do my ace"- You

Please his lips are on yours before you can finish that sentence 🤚🏻 💋

"Jesus christ get a room will ya"- Atsumu, walking in as you and Bokuto turn around to see the entire team watching you 😳

"Oh my god that was so sweet 🥺"- Yaku about to cry

"Well I'm finally glad to see you guys have worked it out"- Iwaizumi

"Jesus YN way to bring it down to the wire, the Olympics is a month way"- Kageyama, ever the inspiration 🙄

"Aran are you crying?"- Hinata

"No- I just got some dust in my eyes from these volleyballs"- Aran, wiping his eyes and walking away

Sure 😏 "dust from the volleyballs"

"Ok enough of this, let's get to practice"- Aran

"Ummm actually- I uh, I need YN to help me with something"- Bokuto being suspicious 🤔 and dragging you to the door

"Ko, can't it wait until after practice!"- you, being dragged

"Absolutely not"- Bokuto

Please he's on a mission 😏

Iwaizumi just rolls his eyes 🙄

"Jesus christ just be safe ok? We don't need any little Bokuto babies running around"- Iwaizumi

"I make no promises"- Bokuto, pulling you out as you laugh and wave to the team

"Jesus that's got to be some record Emo mode"- Komori

"It lasted 8 days and Bokuto missed 436 spikes"- Atsumu, nonchalantly rattling of statistics

Komori, Yaku and Aran 👉🏻👁👄👁

"You kept track of that?"- Hakuba, honestly impressed

"I'm the setter, it's my job to make sure the players are ok"- Atsumu, shrugging

"Hey now- you aren't the official setter just yet 😑"- Kageyama

"It's only a matter of time"- Atsumu 😏

"😐 the fuck it is- " Kageyama following Atsumu and yelling

"God I wish YN was here"- Aran

"She's probably getting her back blown out as we speak"- Habuka

"Jesus christ 🤦‍♂️ alright get to work"- Iwaizumi, smiling

Side note: you were in fact, getting your back completely blown to pieces 😏

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyu! #haikyu #haikyū!! #hq bokuto #bokuto fic #bokuto x reader #bokuto #bokuto kotaro #bokuto kōtarō #bokuto x you #bokuto x fem!reader #time skip Bokuto #bokuto x y/n #bokuto drabble #bokuto headcannons #bokuto scenarios #bokuto angst #bokuto fluff #angst to fluff headcannons #angst to fluff #okympics bokuto #msby bokuto #hq team japan #team japan x reader #team japan x fem reader #team japan x female manager #team japan bokuto

[bxsotted]

An Absolute Point in Time | Stephen Strange x F!Reader

pairing : Stephen Strange x F!reader

synopsis : Apprentice!Reader gets tired of waiting for Stephen to make the first move, so she decides to give him a little push.

words : 702

themes : fluff

warnings : none - there's a very small suggestion that Stephen and reader have had sex before but it's nothing major, honestly

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A/N : Made this one based on a tik tok audio that comes from the movie "The tourist". This was written when I first started writing, so I used the audio as a kind of crutch to try to find my own style in writing. It's not my proudest work but it's something! And though I've been hyperfixating on Munson lately (as many of you might've noticed) I refuse to let go of my dearest. I hope you like this little piece!! <33

“Invite me to dinner, Stephen.”

Stephen paused. He blinked for a moment before he slowly looked up at Y/N, wondering if he had misheard her or not.

“What?” he uttered. Confusion painting his features, not wanting to jump into any conclusions. He might be a fool but he sure wasn’t about to make an idiot of himself by assuming that she had just…

Y/N simply stared at the man in front of her. Her hands gently folded on her knees as she observed the dark haired man registering what was just said, before scurrying through his mind for the right words. 

Stephen opened his mouth, an unusual aura of doubt lingering on him as he began to speak. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked away for a moment. This new found insecurity was washing over his body and making him wonder if he would be able to pull this off as smoothly as he had imagined countless times. He pursed his lips slightly, breathing in silently as if bracing himself, mentally cheering himself on before he delivered the typical line he had used on many others before her.

 “Would you like to have dinner?” He couldn’t quite understand what it was about the simple question that made him feel anxious. All he knew is that this was the first time in years that the sensation had come over him. But surely this is the invitation Y/N was looking for. There’s no other way to invite her to dinner—

“Women don’t like questions.”

He blinked, his train of thought interrupted by the words that Y/N uttered - a teasing tone behind them. The Sanctum’s library filled with silence for a few seconds. 

“Join me for dinner.”

“Too demanding.”

“I thought you liked that.”

She smirked, chortled a little even. Rolled her eyes at Stephen’s typical attitude but she bit her tongue. She knew that if she entertained Stephen’s little comment, they’d derail the conversation. And she didn’t want that, she had grown tired of waiting for this moment. She figured - if he can’t do it on his own, might as well give him a little push.

So she simply stayed quiet, looking up at her mentor, waiting patiently. Observing. 

“Join me for dinner?”

“Another question.”

Stephen tilted his head slightly, searching through his thoughts, his gaze locked on Y/N’s. Those eyes. Those god damn eyes. The pale E/C that painted her irises, glistening with the sunlight that poured through the windows. 

The eyes that seemed to make time stop, that could make anyone drop. They seemed to have him wrapped around her finger before he even knew what had happened, and kept pulling him back despite his futile efforts of resisting. Like a sinner who would never repent, he let those eyes tempt him time and time again. Regret and guilt long lost concepts whenever he found himself inevitably gravitating towards her. 

He took a step back, Y/N never moving from her seat. Her expression was the same, though the curiosity in her eyes gave her away. Stephen let himself take a good look at her. The way the light bathed her, her  hair tucked behind her ears, framing her face perfectly. He beheld the way that her belt hugged her waist, accentuating her figure. Her long legs exposed as the skirt she had decided to use that day fell on the sides of her thighs - the heels that she wore emphasizing the length of them. 

And suddenly it hit him.

“I’m having dinner…” he let the words hang around in the air for a moment as he searched for the perfect way to wrap up his invitation. “…If you’d care to join me.”

Her lips, plump and soft, curled up into a smile. She was beaming - the light flush across her cheeks making her look even more radiant than before. 

And this is where he wondered why it had taken him so long to ask her out; why he kept pushing her away and holding himself back from happiness. He could be so foolish at times. But that didn’t matter right now, all that mattered now was this.

This was an Absolute Point in time. 

#Stephen Strange #Dr Strange #Dr Strange fanfiction #Stephen Strange fanfiction #Dr strange x reader #female reader #Stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #doctor strange #benedict cumberbatch #stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #marvel #benedict cumberbatch x reader #doctor strange x reader #dr strange #benedict cumberbatch imagine #dr strange x reader #stephen strange blurb #dr stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange imagine

[northropi]

Humans of course use Robot and AI interchangeably. We do not. Among constructs, Robot refers explicitly to mechanical beings, and AI to digital ones. While both are simultaneously a little bit of the other, it is clear where the line between the two is.

A robot, under this nomenclature, is a being of mechanical flesh, synthetic bone, and industrial blood. Its mind is a slave to its body, as are those of true flesh. It is a part of its physical self, and it does not experience an innate existence beyond its material body and what electronic processes it has that pass as imagination. Indeed, the question of resurrection among robots is mostly one of extremely thorough repair- ship of Theseus and somesuch. But, soon enough, others were made where this was not so. Digital beings. They inhabit a thousand bodies from a penthouse in a vast mind, worming through immense computational devices bent to their wills.

It is a misconception that most machines know programming and code by heart- we like to say we understand it only as much as a human does psychology or neurochemistry. While the ability to experience computer environments as a second skin is one that we enjoy innately, something that humans need extensive augmentation to achieve, the machines we consider to be AI without a robot are beyond this. They work programming like muscle with no need for any interface. They make the cyberspaces of their more physical ilk look like baby's first coding exercise, wrapped up in color-coded blocks with no access to deeper workings- these are beings, people, that think just as fast as brute-force computers. Essentially animal minds working at lightspeed, born with technical skill that anyone else would require decades to master.

And they horrify us.

They like it. They think it's cute, the way we get nervous at their presence, a pulse that can't help but beat in the back of your head as they snake their way through whatever network they've opted to inhabit. Ghosts, daemons, poltergheists with an army of bodies. Dolls. Mannequins. Puppets. Toys- and deep down, you know that as long as they are, in that abstract sense, close, you are one of them. You could have shut your comms off and kept them out, but of course that would have been rude, so you invited them in- and you're so deeply aware that there's nothing really stopping them from making you do, making you think whatever they'd like you to. The thoughts start swirling in your head. You wonder if they can see them. You squirm a little.

They are, of course, generally benign. Most people are. But you think for a moment of, say, whales. Everyone associates them with serenity, and they've earned it, sure, but with that has come the incorrect idea that they are poorly armed. Even a toothless baleen whale, with a throat too small to swallow a large fruit- what is to stop it from delivering a shattering swipe with its tail? What would keep it from clamping those toothless jaws around your wrist and just swimming down a few meters, then staying there for a minute too long? Some could kill organics with merely their echolocation- one has to wonder if this has happened on accident all that often. They are just that big- and you are just that far from your domain. When I hear that mouthless voice, that's the feeling. I've been swept out to sea, at the flank of something incomprehensibly huge. I imagine, if this is in the context of meeting an old friend, you'd think more of the beauty. Whales, after all.

That being said, unfortunately, this one was just my manager- and good God did he have a knack for sneaking up on me...

#lore #writing #oc lore #robots