#me desperate to unburden loved ones & failing

[k-wame]

Bartłomiej Deklewa as Niko & Jan Salasinski as Igor Tymczenko Absolute Beginners (Absolutni Debiutanci) · S1·EP4

#me desperate to unburden loved ones & failing #absolute beginners #absolutni debiutanci #igor x niko #bartlomiej deklewa #bartłomiej deklewa #jan salasinski #lgbtedit #tvedit #lgbt #queer #couple #affection #intimacy #longing #desire #amor #romantic #gay #queer media

[mismaeve]

Runaway Love

↳ Runaway Love, Haldir x Reader, angst to fluff drabble Based on this imagine by @imagine-all-the-elves Warnings: Slight angst but little of it Word Count: 1.3k AN: I apologise for any mistakes and errors that you might find, I was only too excited to write for Haldir (yes, my first time with this ellon). But I think it turned out decent. Let me know your thoughts :)

"Imagine Haldir's reaction after you confess your feelings for him and he fails to say or do something before you think that he doesn't share your feelings and run off."

The birds chirped their spring songs in the golden trees high above you, filling your scenic afternoon walk with pleasant melodies. A great pity it was, your own anxiety preventing you from enjoying the nature around you, yet who could ever blame you for allowing your nerves to get the better of you when you had decided upon your waking this morn, that today was going to be the day at last when you would no longer hold your silence, and would bear your heart open to the one who had stolen it long ago.

“My lord Haldir,” your voice was a tad mousier than you would have wished, his effect on you seeming stronger today as if to spite your timid soul.

“Yes, my lady?” the Marchwarden gazed down towards you, his pale blue eyes finding yours in an instant, a soft questioning look making his otherwise well-guarded features look almost boyish.

“May we sit for a moment?” you tore your eyes away from him, lest unwanted color would rise to your cheeks and make you appear to be the foolish girl you had always thought yourself to be.

“Of course,” Haldir agreed softly and started you in the direction of the nearest bench.

Nearly hidden away entirely by the golden canopy of the trees that grew only in Lorien, you took your seats on the wooden bench, away from the rest of the world yet inevitably closer to the moment you had both dreaded and desperately longed for.

Your fingers became a fumbling tangle while your heart began a steady race inside your chest, trembling with every gentle breath you took in your silly hopes of calming yourself.

This was it, the moment was here. Wasn’t this what you had been dreaming of since the first day your feet had stumbled onto the precious soil of Lothlorien and your eyes had gazed upon the fair elf for the very first time?

Long had his pale eyes and golden hair haunted your dreams, more so your waking hours when deep longing had seemed to be your only companion.

His kind offer to accompany you on your daily walks had only fed your desire to unburden the feelings your heart had been nurturing in painful secret. Could you truly afford to deny yourself this moment when knowing the regret of doing so would eat you alive?

A soft yet slightly calloused hand grasped yours with a feather-like tenderness you could hardly believe possible of someone as refined a warrior as the Marchwarden.

“What troubles you, my lady?” his spoken words were not shy of honest concern.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to look at the ellon you had come to love so dearly.

“While I’ve been enjoying our friendship and treasuring the moments of your company, there is something I feel that I should confess,” you started slowly, dragging the words from your mouth despite the growing fear in the pits of your stomach.

Haldir remained silent, waiting for you to go on in that silent patience you had come to admire.

You felt like your throat was closing up, dry and hoarse it seemed, unable or unwilling to voice your truth. You swallowed once and decided to put yourself out of this misery at once. No turning back now.

“I fear that for quite some time now, I have been…I’ve been thinking of you as in…,” try as hard as you could, the words would not come out. The expectant blue eyes staring directly at you weren’t helping either, only making you that much more flustered.

“What I want to say is that,” you trailed off, still unable to find the words, cursing yourself for not having a single ounce of confidence to help you through this increasingly awkward scene.

Fool, you silly fool of a girl. Just spit it out already before he thinks you a dimwit.  

“I fancy you.”

Three words. Your confession rolled off your lips with about as much grace as a tumbling of rocks.

The relief you felt was short lived. Haldir’s expression hardened, his pale eyes glazing over as if he was trying to distance himself from this naked display of emotion. To your growing horror, the Marchwarden withdrew his hand from yours and cleared his throat the same way he always did when something was annoying him.

You felt cold, his treatment of your precious heart freezing you to your very core, making you instantly feel sick while tears threatened to come at any moment.

Had it all been in your head? Him taking your hand, kissing it softly before tucking your arm underneath his own? The secret spark in his eyes whenever he saw you? His own tempered smile when your lips said his name.

Did I dream it?

“Forgive me,” you mumbled while biting back your tears. You had done more than enough to make him uncomfortable, last thing you wanted was to force him to comfort you when you had, compelled by your own delusions, made an utter fool of yourself.

As quickly as your trembling legs would carry you, you fled the scene where your heart and soul had withered, and your dreams had fallen to their death.

Bitter tears pooled in your eyes while you tried to see straight enough to not trip over a fallen branch or a stray rock on your way back the same golden pathway you had taken earlier.

Your mind frantically cursing you for your stupidity of thinking someone as high ranked as the Marchwarden would ever waste a single thought of affection on someone lowly as yourself, you had failed to notice the footsteps behind you, wide strides getting closer and closer until finally firm fingers gripped your arm and jerked you around where you collided with something firm.

“What-,“ you had started but at the sight of the ellon who had so mercilessly crushed your dreams, your words died on your lips.

Haldir’s pale eyes sparked with something you hadn’t witnessed before. He looked fierce, his features as hard as ever but this time, a certain determination was written plain on an otherwise impenetrable façade. His hands steadied you before he, without uttering a single word, knelt down before you and took your cold hand in his warm one.

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady,” he averted his eyes and was focusing all his attention to your clasped hands.

“My lack of an appropriate response has hurt you deeply, and for that I will never forgive myself. I can only hope that you can find it in your noble heart, to look past my shortcomings and accept my earnest explanation and my sincere apology.”

“I am ashamed to admit that your confession, as longed for as it was, caught me off-guard. I had only dreamed of it in the sweetest of dreams, but never dared hope to hear it from your own lips.”

His words pinned you to the ground, unable to move or even breathe while wide eyes stared at the crown of his golden head, unblinking and barely seeing the shimmering light dancing in his silken hair.

“Your confession was all I had yearned for, ever since I found you wandering along our boarders. You took my heart that night, and I was willing to let you have it for I selfishly hoped that one day you might offer me a piece of yours.”

Haldir’s eyes found yours then. You couldn’t help but marvel and shudder at the same time at how vulnerable and naked he looked, his eyes all but begging you to accept his apology and gift him with your heart anew.

“My heart is yours, Haldir. It’s always been yours,” you whispered quietly lest you would startle him back to his usually guarded self. To your and most likely his own surprise his lips moved and Haldir offered you a genuine smile, warm and soft like the spring day around you.

Gif by @lordofsilverfountain Taglist: @heilith @kanafinwe-makalaure @deep-space-elf @i-did-not-mean-to @aduialel @coopsgirl @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @augustwithquills @eunoiaastralwings @missymoo02 @warriormirkwood @dawn-petrichor-world

Like it? Likes, comments and reblogs are hugely appreciated and much needed.

#haldir #haldir x reader #haldir of lorien #lorien #lothlorien #fotfics #haldir fluff #lord of the rings

[desertfangs]

I don't think Louis needed Daniel to explain how much love there was..... isn't his entire interview about how much he loved Lestat, Claudia, and Armand? Grief is love after all.....

I think you're right, anon, grief is love persisting. Louis' story is filled with love. But I think that in that room, that night in 1973, Louis had sort of lost sight of that.

I've said this before but the story Louis thinks he's telling to Daniel is not the one Daniel hears. Louis thinks he's telling a cautionary tale, a story of how he allowed himself to become a monster and the fallout of that is centuries of loss and grief. That he is a creature who can never have anything good.

At the end of his own story, Louis is dejected, empty, distant, a shell of a thing. Armand hopes that seeing Lestat again will ignite some spark in him, and even hopes Louis learning that Armand is responsible for Claudia's death might bring him back to life but it doesn't work. During this conversation, Louis tells Armand: "'I wanted love and goodness in this which is living death,' I said. `It was impossible from the beginning, because you cannot have love and goodness when you do what you know to be evil, what you know to be wrong. You can only have the desperate confusion and longing and the chasing of phantom goodness in its human form. I knew the real answer to my quest before I ever reached Paris. I knew it when I first took a human life to feed my craving. It was my death."

Louis is unburdening himself to Daniel, confessing his sins. Armand leaves him and he's alone and that's the end. There is nothing left in him. He's basically numb. He tells Daniel he kills every night until he works up the courage to end his life, and that's that.

Daniel is aghast. "It didn't have to end like that!" Daniel protests. He begs for the blood because he sees the love in Louis' story. He knows that if Louis went to Lestat now or to Armand, either of them would happily take him in their arms.

Daniel is frustrated that Louis can't see that, and argues with him, finally saying, "Don't you see how you made it sound? It was an adventure like I'll never know in my whole life! You talk about passion, you talk about longing! You talk about things that millions of us won't ever taste or come to understand. And then you tell me it ends like that. I tell you . . . " And he stood over the vampire now, his hands outstretched before him. " If you were to give me that power! The power to see and feel and live forever!"

Daniel sees the possibility of love in being a creature like Louis, in how living forever means endless time for love and passion and excitement. But Louis feels like this means he failed to convey his truth. This is why he bites Daniel and drinks from him and then leaves, no knowing if he lives or dies. He wanted to communicate the tragedy of his tale and Daniel saw the hope instead. 🥺🥺

Thank you for the ask anon! I could honestly talk about this all day so I appreciate the opportunity. 💖

#interview with the vampire #daniel molloy #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv #vc meta #vc quotes #vampire chronicles #answers in the desert #anonymous #vc

[monstdrug]

My father baptized me after his unresolved grief, the one that he hated, but couldn't completely get rid off. The first place he's dying to run away from, but couldn't yield the strength to abandon. I remember my childhood, when I wondered why I couldn't succeed in building emotional connection with him.

When looking at his eyes felt like succumbing deeply into a dark, empty well. His scent is so foreign. Every night he sat by the window, staring vaguely into nothingness. My eagerness to jump into his head and swim into his deepest, darkest thoughts grew fonder day by day. To crack his hard shell and perhaps discern why of all things he could name me after, he chose to call me grief. I took all the blame from all of my failed attempts, I was only ten.

I guess, my father was a good person; not a good father, to me, and I couldn't blame him for that. Years later, I turned seventeen. I remember he came to beg my mom. He was dead drunk again, That was the first time I cried at the age of seventeen, yelled at mom to go ignore the bastard that made her go through the day with a shuffle, made her try to accept the pieces of father in me that made her wounds wet so many times, I remember cursing him in my head while giving punches on his face with tossing feelings, knowing I grew up with a piece of him inside of me made me feel sorry for my mom. One time he told me I meant the world to him just to proceed into apologizing as he couldn't offer me a piece of him because I've stolen so much of his sanity. That it wasn't my fault, but I have to understand that he didn't wish to be a father, but he tried his best? No.

I know my father was a good person; but not a good father to me, but can I blame him for that? Because how about me then? I did not ask for a life so lonely as this nor did I beg him to father me yet I took all the blame unwillingly. My bones, my breath, my blood, every single part of me wanted so much to scream my anger into his face and desperately ask him to unburden me the weight I have to bear just because I was his son. He betrayed me and I was so clueless on how to deal with it. Now, I'm twenty four, completely detached from him. But I still see his figure everywhere—He's not even dead yet. I'm a bad person, some people say that and I'm okay with that, I didn't born to impress everyone even the people I care about, I didn't label myself good, I'm not good enough, sorry for those closest to me who feel that, in me, you can gone.

I am valuable for my self, for people who love me without judging me when they are angry, so if you let me go you don't deserve everything about me, anymore. But I dismissed the fact that for many years I missed the person I once called father, I was 10 years old, a 4th grader who felt the loss of a father figure, I dismissed the fact that you had a heavy burden that you had to carry, I dismissed the fact that you loved us your children.

I dismissed the fact that you are a great man but not a good father. Hard to bear the role of head of the family huh? you put it on me too early, you made me the lowest standard of a man, still afraid to commit to a woman because mom said i look like you.

You came to me the day i was about to graduate from high school you tried to talk to me but i chose to silence you with fist you, i miss you. I need a father figure which I said is not good. sorry for closing my eyes about you, about you trying, always healthy, where are you now? did you sleep warm? father, mother was great she alone made me and fani able to grow into what it is today. come again, please come again.

[khodorkovskaya]

04.01.23

i spent the whole day alone today, corrected a couple of things on the website and wrote 4 important emails with my stepdad over microsoft teams. and in the meantime i listed to eileen by ottessa moshfegh and read acts of desperation in one sitting. and god did it hit hard. here's another passage that really resonated with me:

"I wished I could unburden myself but I couldn’t verbalise what was happening because doing so would bring it into existence. So far, it was all taking place in my head with no verification from an outside party, and so long as I kept it that way I could suppress it. That urge you have with an envelope of results, delaying the future in which you are unwillingly privy to terrible news.

I knew also that if I began to describe more or less anything about Ciaran and what our relationship was like I would upset my dad. The split in me was so wide that these two states could coexist:

1. I knew that my relationship was strange and uneven and not reciprocal and that speaking about its reality would confuse and upset people who loved me.

2. I didn’t feel it to be those things."

i related so much to the narrator and how she felt in her relationship. i don't know if i could've ever cheated on B if things carried on for longer and i don't have a strong desire for pain like the narrator did, but i could still relate a lot. the passage where she sleeps with reuben and "could feel the silliness of sex for the first time in forever" made me cry so much.

the narrator's diary, the fact that she's always crying, her feeling pain but not knowing the reason and being confused in her feelings, her on and off thoughts about wanting to be thin... it all hit so close to home.

the book portrayed modern womanhood in such an accurate way. like we really are raised with this idea that we have to be dedicated to men but with no moral explanation behind it. it's never explained why we have to dedicate ourselves. there's no religious explanation anymore, nothing rational about it. so we grow up with this idea that we're only gonna be complete when we're in love, not understanding and not even questioning why. and then we find ourselves cooking intricate dinners for men with no tastebuds and having to justify why we don't want to have sex because "no" isn't a sufficient answer. we have it ingrained into our minds that things have to be that way. and at an age where you have to figure yourself out first, questions like this are even harder to deal with bc you don't even have the tools yet to deal with them. anyway, i feel like what im saying doesn't really make sense. but yeah i liked the book a lot.

yesterday i rescheduled my driving exam. the first date available was the 19th of april so i took it. i have my student license until the 21st of april so im just gonna have one chance lol. and if i fail oh well, i'll have to redo theory again.

i cried for 15 minutes straight after i rescheduled the test. i felt so stupid. and my stepdad was like "you have all these opportunities, you're so spoiled. i didn't have anyone to teach me but i was so determined to learn how to drive that i taught myself. and you have everything laid out in front of you on a platter and instead of being grateful you just cry." and that made me feel even worse. bc it's true that i don't have it as hard as many people do. and another person would've loved to be in my shoes. but i can't for the love of god understand how to drive. like i think im just stupid. there is no other explanation. ive had i don't know how many hours of driving and yet i still struggle like a complete beginner and it just gets worse and worse.

but anyway, as i was in the middle of crying, the car parked in front of us started moving and the guy was struggling so hard like he couldn't exit the parking spot. and i was like huh maybe im not too bad of a driver compared to some. and then the person in another car next to us was having an even harder time. they went back and forth, nearly bumped into the car next to them many times, kept turning the wheel left and right frantically. so i was like you know what, not all hope is lost! i can even parallel park without too much difficulty on a good day so there is still hope for me! and if those two people we just saw didn't feel bad for their imperfect driving skills, neither should i!

#january

[aerois]

Remarried Empress: Sovieshu Contextualized and Navier the Unreliable Narrator (SPOILERS!)

So recently I started reading Remarried Empress on WEBTOON. Honestly the whole premise wasn’t my cup of tea and I was solely reading it because it was part of an event where I could get free coins (lol). But then... I got hooked. I got invested. Started drinking in chapters whenever and wherever I could, and even now I still crave more. I wanted Navier to have some semblance of a happy ending (and, let’s be honest, I wanted to drag that precious little bitch Trashta by her fucking hair across the yard). At first it was mostly that. Raging at Trashta and her Simperor, pondering at Heinley’s true intentions, drooling over Kaufman. 

And then, I noticed something odd. I noticed-- the strangest thing-- Sovieshu seemed to be... not as enamored with his mistress as meets the eye. And there was even some hinting that his feelings for Navier weren’t what we assumed.

I have to preface this: I don’t condone Sovieshu’s crappy actions. He’s an idiot, and acts very poorly as a husband. And there’s no excuse for cheating. Absolutely not! So I don’t want this post to come across like In Defense of Sovieshu, because it’s not. But I do think that our view, the reader’s view, of Sovieshu, is warped. And this is mainly because we see the story through Navier’s eyes of course, but we forget that every individual person is fallible. Every person, at some point, harbors false assumptions that color their concepts of truth and reality. Put shortly, Navier is human, and therefore is not a reliable narrator at some points. Especially concerning her husband. We see Sovieshu entirely through the eyes of his wronged wife in the webcomic. Pin that: in the webcomic. Did you know the webcomic is actually based on a mobile game? Yes, it is! And I downloaded it! And I’m playing it! And... I’m actually... hating Sovieshu less?????????? 

Ok, ok, put the pitchforks down! Hear me out! I’m not saying any of the stuff he did was okay! But Navier’s narration of the story paints him as this cold, detached man who grew to hate his wife so much that he flew into the arms of some hussy for warmth and then just cast his wife aside and deliberately acted like a jerk just because he wanted her to suffer.  And there’s a grain of truth to that. There are points where Sovieshu feels bitter and does or says something waspish. But it’s not as black and white as you might assume. I played the mobile game, and decided to take Sovieshu’s route out of spite. I opened this app, saw it was an otome with this garbage-fire, cheating sack of shit for a romance option and thought “Hah! The nerve. Probably some semi-abusive dirtbag route aimed to appeal to girls who like men who treat them badly. You know, that mutually abusive relationship appeal that some girls like because drama.” And I needed to rack up in-game currency anyway (it’s like usual mobile games, where when you wanna make cool choices you gotta cough up cash unless you “diamond-mine” on crappy stories to save up the meager bits of free currency the app gives you for playing) so I figured I’d blast through the Sovieshu route and skip onto my darling Kaufman in playthrough 2.

And then the smoke genuinely compelling character development got me. So I could run y’all through Navier’s version of the events, but you already know that. For Sovieshu though? Here’s the kicker: this idiot has had a raging passion for his wife slowly building up for years throughout their entire lives, and only realizes it about halfway through the events of the story. This idiot, this buffon, this absolute brain-dead dolt... didn’t even realize he was pining over his own wife until he was about to explode from the desperation from it all. God, I wish I was joking. Lemme break it down for you:

Sovieshu’s POV: He and Navier are introduced as kids and are told they’ll be married someday. Life partners. They are raised in tandem to respect and care for one another. Kinda smacks of grooming (go mom and dad!) but whatever, that’s the background. These kids are mentally regarding each other as spouses their entire conscious lives. And Sovieshu, as he grows, quickly comes to realize his intended is a selfless girl who holds everything inside. The first spark of his affection for her is wrapped in this: that Sovieshu longs for Navier to take off her “perfect princess” mask and let herself be vulnerable with him. He admires her intellingence, her grace, and her devotion to her country. He looks at her and sees someone that inspires him. He craves the opportunity to comfort and protect her. He waits, and these opportunities come in small instances. But they get older, their burdens get heavier, and like most young women, Navier gets better at pretending nothing is wrong with her and putting everyone else first. Sovieshu feels more distant from her. But that desire to break through her wall still stands.

They marry, but Navier, in her infinite wisdom, makes the assumption that this marriage is entirely political (despite...the fact... that they were raised together??? they were literally best friends their entire lives??? are y’all seeing how this could be confusing for him???) and that there are absolutely no feelings involved on Sovieshu’s side. Expect there’s that little problem. That little problem. Of Navier’s absolute inability to be vulnerable. And so she starts this marriage all Elsa-Conceal-Don’t-Feel convinced that her husband (whom she is secretly in love with, shocker) holds no warmth for her because she’s never received any from him. 

Now I’ll acknowledge that this is a two way street, where Sovieshu fails as well. Should Navier have made a mature decision and asked for love and support when she needed it? Yes. Should Sovieshu have offered anyway, despite not knowing that she wanted it at all? Yes. They’re both in the wrong here. They’re both too passive, too afraid.

So the first few years of their marriage pass by like this. And Navier kinda melts into more of a depressed state over it, while Sovieshu becomes frustrated. But he doesn’t know why. He hasn’t quite put his finger on the fact that HE’S IN LOVE WITH HIS WIFE, GEE WHAT A SURPRISE BUDDY. And then... the little ingenue comes in. Trashta, with her crocodile tears, oversharing of emotions, co-dependent as all get-out. You see where I’m headed, right? It’s not just that she’s the opposite of Navier that gets Sovieshu hooked. It’s that she gives him that opportunity to unburden all this pent up romantic frustration. He can comfort, and protect, and wipe away the tears of a woman who loves him... And for a while, it’s intoxicating. That itch is finally being scratched.

Or so it seems. Because sooner or later, Sovieshu realizes that this woman is not his wife. And she’s a bit clingy, and clueless, and she’s... well, she’s not his wife. She’s not his wife. 

“Oh, dear God...” the idiot finally realizes. “I don’t want this hussy. I want my wife!” 

Ding ding ding! You did it! And it only took you--what? 20 years? After all this time, Sovieshu (and the audience playing his route) realizes. He’s not cheating because he’s bored, or because he hates his wife, or because he’s Inherently An Asshole And That’s What Assholes Do. He’s cheating because he’s using this woman as a stand-in for his wife. He’s been looking straight through this woman and seeking his wife the entire time. He’s cheating because he’s stupid and repressed and misguided and human. And again, that doesn’t excuse it. He still cheated, and that’s something he needs to spend a life-time making up for. It’s a mistake, and a big one. But it’s not fueled by a malicious hatred or a desire to hurt her. It’s fueled by confusion and fear. And, strangely enough, a desire to perform love for his wife.

So anyway, this stupid dweeb finally wakes up and realizes that no matter how much he plays around with the Town Skank, it doesn’t slate that thirst for the woman he’s spent his life growing to love. And that he actually, truly loves her to begin with. Now at this point, Navier was away travelling, doing queenly stuff. And he gets a message from a servant-- his wife is home. This boy books it. This man throws down what he’s doing, sprints across the imperial palace, to stumble at the feet of his wife; red-faced and breathless, absolutely undone. This man is screaming for his wife on the inside and now nothing he can do will quiet it. And his wife, ever the perfect pinnacle of a monarch, just raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him and wonders what’s got him in such a tizzy.

This is where the difference between the narratives hits especially hard. Navier has absolutely no clue that her husband is a hair-thin thread of self-control away from all of this just completely spilling out of him. She looks at him and sees a tormentor; someone who’s treating her like a used doll. And he sees this Goddess that’s been hiding in plain sigh the whole time. He sees his sins and repents before this, his wife, his almighty Goddess. But he doesn’t know what to do. She’s still been hurt by him, Trashta is still in their lives, and damn it all, he’s still frustrated. He still feels bitter and abandoned because even after everything, even after the years of marriage, his wife just seems so unaffected by him. This is where Navier’s “perfect queen” image that she tries so hard to curate really bites her in the ass.

These two dumbasses are hopelessly in love with each other but they’re deadlocked in an endless cycle of letting their prides get in the way. Navier doesn’t want to be vulnerable. Sovieshu doesn’t want to compromise, doesn’t know how to not lash out in anger when he’s really feeling sad. Unlike Navier, he can express emotions-- but not in a heathy way. So he says something mean, does something kinda shitty. And Navier thinks it’s because he delights in her suffering. So Sovieshu’s over here in his head like a cranky little child that’s mad at mommy because she’s on the phone, and Navier is over there in her head wondering why on earth her husband can’t notice a love that she’s never actually expressed to him. And it’s just terrible. But kind of hilarious. Mostly sad and terrible. But defintely hilarious.

To further illustrate this: even a lot of Sovieshu’s actions, for that matter, get warped by Navier’s unreliable narration. WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE! In the chapter where Trashta is stabbed, Sovieshu immediately screams for guards to surround Navier. So I’ll sum up their thought processes here.

Navier: Oh my God, I can’t believe this asshole. Calling the guards? He really fuckin thinks I did this?! Jerk! Asshole! He really thinks I’d arrange for a pregnant woman to be stabbed!! He’s probably deliberately framing me too, so he can get me out of the way and live happily ever after with her!

Sovieshu: OH MY GOD, MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE COULD GET STABBED NEXT SOMEONE HELP well actually maybe she had something to do with it? nah. prolly not. but even if she did idgaf I LOVE MY WIFE, I’LL COVER FOR YOU BABY I’LL FORGIVE WHATEVER. GUARDS, FIND WHO DID THE STABBING SO THEY DON’T STAB MY PERFECT WIFE NEXT

Like I wish I was joking, but that’s how it read. Anyway, I’m not done with the comic or the game yet. But Sovieshu’s motivations aren’t all as they seem. And while he’s not a perfect husband, he has the capacity to mature, let down his pride, and make steps toward atoning to his wife. I honestly and genuinely believe this marriage could be salvageable if they could come clean with each other. A lot of people want to root for Kaufman or Heinley, and I get it. Those two would probably treat her well. But the fact stands that these two are married, and surprisingly, they both actually still hold a spark of love for one another. If Sovieshu could genuinely repent, and demonstrate this to Navier, they would attain the happy marriage with each other that they both strive for. Anyway, I find myself surprisingly hooked on the story now that I see Sovieshu’s POV. He’s not a hero in this story by any means, but I’m somehow, against my better judgement, rooting for him. I’m rooting for him to make the right choices and repair his marriage. 

It’s a bold strategy, folks. Let’s see how it pays off.

#remarried empress

[cappymightwrite]

What are your thoughts on Ned Stark ?

Hi!

I have conflicted feelings on Ned. Probably just below Stannis, he's the Westerosi man most in need of therapy, in my opinion. Actually, that's an interesting comparison — Ned and Stannis, which I know has been commented on before. They're alike in many ways, in terms of reserve etc., which makes the fact that Robert saw Ned as his true brother all the more painful to Stannis (though of course this is never explicitly stated). But anyway, back to Ned.

There's certain things I struggle with in regards to Ned, even though I understand the reasoning behind his actions, or rather, inaction. So, it makes thinking back on him in a wholly positive and fond light somewhat difficult, as I suppose it must be for Sansa in a way, as well as for Jon, once his parentage is revealed. I don't wholly dislike him though, I actually value him a lot, I just take issue with:

Him never apparently trusting Catelyn enough to be honest about Jon's parentage (+ the way he avoids telling Jon, to some extent)

No matter how loving they were... there is this unresolved (and now forever unresolved) barrier at the heart of their relationship, an unequal exchange of trust, which was within Ned's power to lift, to make fully mutual. But he didn't. Now, he had his reasons, self-sacrificing and seemingly honourable as they may appear, and certainly the narrative required this secret to be kept. But even so, in terms of how I regard his character? It rubs me the wrong way because he never gave her the opportunity to sympathise and fully understand him, he cut himself off from that. And yeah, maybe it might not have improved Jon's situation all that much, but he never gave Cat the opportunity to think of him differently, in a way that wasn't dictated by the social mores of their world:

It had taken her a fortnight to marshal her courage, but finally, in bed one night, Catelyn had asked her husband the truth of it, asked him to his face.

That was the only time in all their years that Ned had ever frightened her. "Never ask me about Jon," he said, cold as ice. "He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. And now I will learn where you heard that name, my lady." She had pledged to obey; she told him; and from that day on, the whispering had stopped, and Ashara Dayne's name was never heard in Winterfell again.

Whoever Jon's mother had been, Ned must have loved her fiercely, for nothing Catelyn said would persuade him to send the boy away. It was the one thing she could never forgive him. She had come to love her husband with all her heart, but she had never found it in her to love Jon. She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned's sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow that made it worse. – AGOT, Catelyn II

"It was the one thing she could never forgive him" — yeah, me too honey! Ok, sure, we don't know for sure if Cat might have "overlooked" Jon's uneasy place in their household "for Ned's sake", if she knew he was actually her nephew — the world would still believe him to be Ned's, so to outward appearances the awkwardness is still there. And yeah, we don't know if she could have "found it in her to love Jon", but the truth certainly would have made it far more likely! But Ned decided that it had to be this way, that only he could participate in carrying this secret. So, I hurt for Cat AND Jon really.

I get why he doesn't tell Jon the truth. I understand his warped logic, how the trauma of his past informs this sort of self-punishing mentality of I must keep this honourable promise made of love till the day I die even though to the outside world it will appear as a stain upon that very honour... and to punish myself further for failing Lyanna I will never unburden myself to anyone, this is my cross to bear alone. I understand that, it's very manpain-y. But the problem is... it doesn't just punish Ned, it punishes Cat and Jon, and his other children too! Because they are by no means blind to this elephant in the room of their parent's marriage, and it's hard to rationalise:

He looked at her uncomfortably. "My aunt Allyria says Lady Ashara and your father fell in love at Harrenhal—"

"That's not so. He loved my lady mother." – ASOS, Arya VIII

Your father loved your mother, but he also had a child with another woman, whose identity he would never talk about. Your father loved your mother, but his dedication to this secret ultimately trumped being fully honest and open with her. It's hard not to feel that Ned's present came second to making up for the "sins" of his past. This is why he desperately needed therapy, lol, because (to take a line from my Byronic Hero meta) Ned's "traumatic past informs his present life," and to the detriment of that present life and those present relationships as well. But hey, that's the tragedy.

Also, I think his whole I'll tell you the truth when I next see you to Jon is really sketchy, because when exactly might that be, Ned? An avoidance tactic if I ever saw one. But really, I don't think he'd be emotionally equipped to have that conversation anyway... he might have said he'd tell him someday, but deep down, I'm sure he hoped he may never have to. And then he conveniently dies, taking the secret with him (or so we think)!

Allowing the death of Lady

Bran's wolf had saved the boy's life, he thought dully. What was it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow? Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he had killed Sansa's, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? If the gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done? – AGOT, Eddard IV

"And for what?" Yes, quite. I don't really have much to say on this... I think this passage speaks for itself. There's probably some other things I could talk about, but those are my main two gripes.

That being said... what I value about Ned are his words of wisdom

The thing about Ned, for me, is that despite the unmaliciously meant pain he inflicts on his loved ones (which I do understand the reasoning behind, the trauma that informs it etc)... he's still ultimately a figure of hope to me, a notably flawed, but no less significant, ideal within the narrative too. And I think you need that — we need the memory of Ned as readers, and so do the Starklings. So, I love him more for what he represents, rather than his parenting and lacklustre husbanding skills. I value the fundamental truths he emphasises through his words, and the legacy of those words, embodied within his children.

For example:

"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm. Septa Mordane is a good woman, and Sansa… Sansa is your sister. You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you… and I need both of you, gods help me." – AGOT, Arya II

Honestly, people can "squabble" about which Stark sibling is more important, more this, more that, till the cows come home. But that's what it is... "squabbles", and it misses the mark completely about why the Starks are the heart of the series. They are the Starks, plural. They may be different from one another, but they are "pack", and come winter, (TWOW, to be exact), once reunited they will "protect one another, keep each other warm, share [their] strengths", because those are the values Ned taught them.

These are the things to remember, despite all the hellishness. This is why Ned's death wasn't in vain, it wasn't an edgy twist, or the first whiff of grimdark... because his legacy didn't end with him, it lives on, it is felt throughout the series, right up until the most recent book:

"Be that as it may. My father sat where I sit now when Lord Eddard came to Sisterton. Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward. The Mad King was open-handed with them as pleased him. By then we knew that Jon Arryn had taken Gulltown, though. Robert was the first man to gain the wall, and slew Marq Grafton with his own hand. 'This Baratheon is fearless,' I said. 'He fights the way a king should fight.' Our maester chuckled at me and told us that Prince Rhaegar was certain to defeat this rebel. That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true… but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.'" – ADWD, Davos I

I love this line so much, and I love that it comes from Ned, that just as we are gearing up to head into the darkest parts of the series (because Winds is apparently going to be very dark)... we have this light, this hope, this "what if we prevail?" And it's connected to this repeated refrain about the certainty of winter — "in this world only winter is certain" vs. "winter is coming" — which is closely tied to Ned as a character. So, yes, "winter is coming", but don't be decieved into thinking that that spells disaster, that no warmth can be found, for there is always darkness before the dawn, just as there is always a winter before the spring... and in the winter the wolves shall "keep each other warm", they will "prevail."

In conclusion

Whatever his flaws and mistakes, and there are several, at the end of the day... I will love Ned for giving us hope, for reminding the readers, and characters, of what is really important — to take strength from your loved ones, to give them strength in return, and to not give into despair, no matter how harshly the snows might fall and white winds blow. Yes, it's not certain whether they'll live, but likewise, it's not certain whether they'll die either... and that's where you find the hope, the light against the grim dark.

So, for me, he's a character who makes my heart sink, but then he makes it swell again. That's the duality, and it's a choice which you put most stock in... I'll choose the hope he inspires every time ;)

#ned stark #eddard stark #cappy's thoughts #starklings #anti grimdark all the way babeyyyy

[nogreatillusion]

Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before Giving Birth

-- Zippers are preferable to snaps and both are certainly better than buttons, but don't let people make you feel bad if you want to buy a couple of impractical, beautiful baby things that they'll only wear once. -- A friend (a doctor!) DID tell me that most people hate their baby for the first two weeks, a thoroughly un-researched fact which shocked my grandmother but gave me an enormous sense of relief before my baby was born as I was finally able to unburden myself from the fear that I might fail to live up to the overwhelmingly prevalent idea that all mothers will immediately fall madly in love from the moment their child is born and stay that way. -- Don't waste your money on expensive diapers. They will all leak sometimes and that's life. Buy the cheap ones. Same goes for wipes. They're all the same. -- If you are planning to breastfeed, buy lots of very comfortable bras and then buy at least two more than you think you need. You will be unshowered, covered in milk, and behind on laundry for at least a couple of months. Clean, comfortable bras are a gift. -- If you get a clogged milk duct, it will feel like a little lump in your breast and you can massage it out using a vibrator. Do this ASAP to prevent mastitis. -- I think bottle warmers might be a scam. -- You can breastfeed lying down. It might work better, and it will certainly be easier on your back. -- Babies can just wear pajamas or onesies all the time for their first year of life. You don't need "outfits," or separates, unless you want them. No one will notice or care. -- Don't forget to brush your teeth and go to bed like a normal person sometimes. It took me 3 days to remember this. It feels insane to "go to bed" when you're getting up every two to three hours. Do it anyway. -- You're going to hallucinate due to lack of sleep and intense anxiety about falling asleep with the baby. You will imagine that the baby is lost in the sheets until your husband insists for the third time that the baby is in the bassinet. This will go on for months and it will always feel terrible. -- Pick a few good TV shows with a lot of seasons to watch the first month. You're going to be spending a lot of time on the couch. Like a lot. -- Formula smells incredibly bad and it is shockingly expensive. It can also be a lifesaver. -- You can keep track of feedings and diaper changes and baby sleep on a little handwritten spreadsheet to report to your pediatrician like a good parent, but this might also drive you slowly insane until your child's doctor has to remind you that you're raising a child, not running a hospital and really, you can stop. Please don't do this to yourself. -- Socks are for suckers. If it's cold out, buy footie everything for as long as you can possibly get away with it. -- None of the expensive eczema lotions or body washes will make any difference for your baby’s sensitive skin, but you can buy them anyway if it makes you feel better to do something. It will probably get better on its own when they get older and you've long since given up on the fancy creams. -- Buy the adult diapers for postpartum bleeding. -- You can use your baby's desitin on your own butt if things are beginning to chafe down there. -- Be prepared that breastfeeding might be a two person job for at least the first few weeks. It's complicated and difficult for many women, and having a partner there to help juggle and keep the baby (and you!) awake might be necessary! -- You don't really have to master swaddling. It's fine. I'm convinced that birthing classes devote time to this technique solely because it makes you feel like you're in control of something. You're not and you can buy sleep sacks that do the same thing, but better. -- Plain old spaghetti strap tank tops that you can slip an arm/boob out of work just as well as expensive, ugly nursing tops. — You don’t need the $900 stroller. I promise you. Spend your money on the nicest rocking chair you can find, if you have the space. You will be spending a lot of time there. -- Read the sleep books before the baby is born. Take notes. Make a plan. You will not have the energy for this later. -- Stop googling things about SIDS after 10 PM. Turn off your phone. Stop it!! -- If your partner has time off work for a while, a really good time to nap is when people come over to see the baby. You don't have to "host," you don't have to be "on," you can ask them to leave whenever you want. Let your partner handle it. The rules of politeness no longer apply. -- Don't expect to feel like you have it together for at least 2 months. The first 2 months are a blur. By 4 months, you'll finally be hitting your stride. Be patient with yourself. -- You do not have to let people visit you in the hospital before you've taken a shower and put on the cute pajamas you brought. You are going to feel like you were hit by a car and that no one seems to notice or care. You don't have to let people visit you in the hospital at all, actually. It's entirely up to you, as much as your parents may disagree. -- Crying is normal. For both of you. -- It can be really hard to get a newborn baby into a carseat for the first time. Make sure your partner helps handle this before going to get the car or you may find yourself in tears, squatting painfully in front of the car seat on the hospital floor, trying desperately to maneuver a tiny little person who is still curled up like a snail. -- Bring so many snacks to the hospital. Bring an entire duffle bag of snacks. No one else has to know what's in there. -- Buy the big burp cloths. Buy a lot of them. Keep them handy in every room of your house. — Do not buy that goddamn Snoo. -- It's ok and necessary to put your baby down. You will want places to set the baby down in each room of your home. Swings, snuggle pillows, playmats, bouncers, baskets, bassinets, whatever. It's up to you, but try to keep one spot to put them down in each room that you spend a lot of time in. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy. A blanket on the floor works in a pinch! -- When it comes to feeding, buy the bibs that can go in the dishwasher and a highchair that can be entirely wiped clean. -- You're going to clip the baby's finger with the tiny nail clippers. It will be awful. You will all survive. -- Get the breast shields with the silicone edges for pumping. Pumping sucks and anything you can do to make it slightly more comfortable is worth it. — A certain percentage of baby crying is unrelated to needing milk, sleep, or a diaper change. Sometimes babies just cry! They’re like people and they have moods! Remind yourself of this when you’re losing your mind trying to figure out what you’ve forgotten to try. You can just pretend they are a very small friend who needs to cry for a bit, and be a soothing presence while they work through it. -- Reusable nursing breast pads are more comfortable and absorbent than the disposable kind, and will keep you from feeling nervous about leaking every time you leave the house. -- It's ok to leave the baby in a safe place to go to the bathroom. The first time you have to do this, it will be terrifying. -- Don't expect the suction bowls to stay put. Your baby is strong and not an idiot. -- You might need more changing pad covers than you think you do. -- The baby milestone books exist to make you feel either superior or terrified. It's ok not to read them. Your baby will roll over when they roll over. Please stop worrying. -- The first few times you watch the youtube video of someone masterfully wrapping their baby in a fabric sling, you will decide it is impossible. It's not, and you'll get better at it with practice, though you may always feel like you're not *quite* doing it right. This is a metaphor for all of motherhood.

[insingersfall]

So I’ve now finished Mister Impossible and I’m losing it.

It’s like I remember the events of it over and over again and every time my heart breaks, every time is like a bitch slap. For me it’s one of the strongest pieces in the series, if not the strongest. The only other one that might claim the spot is The Dream Thieves.

So the short story is I love it. The long story is also that I love it.

That electric and vibrating feel. A timbre or an aura that doesn't flicker for a second. I’ve seen other fans describe it like this and I can only agree – it feels just like a dream, a hallucination. The Dream Thieves and Mister Impossible are not just books, they’re physical experiences. You can feel these books. 

Not a single chapter is too slow or unnecessary. It’s so compact, so complex and filled to the brim with both action and love. Everything drives the plot forward in a pace that doesn’t feel rushed and with descriptions that are both funny and heartbreaking. The more I think about it, every post I read here on Tumblr opens up another layer, another way to see it, another deeper meaning. It’s all so, so skilled. Maggie has worked on perfecting her writing for years and this book is proof that she's excelled.

Did I say that I love it?

The possibility of endless analysis regarding the religious metaphors. The deepened discussion of real vs forgery. Original and copy. What makes us human, what do we need as humans? The symbolic meaning of the sweetmetals. How the need for meaningfulness, connection, spirituality and awe are connected to nature, but also what Bryde cannot see - how that exact feeling can be found in art, created by human hands. 

Did I say that I love it?

Ronan’s anxiety regarding the unanswered text, something so mundane and meaningless, blown up in his mind to something unfixable. How Hennessy dreams Jordan as a version of herself unburdened by trauma. How Hennessy pushed Jordan away with bitterness, unable to stop, unable to handle her love for her. Declan’s fear of becoming like his father, how his feelings for Jordan blinds him. Adam, surrounded by people but completely alone, trying desperately but failing to save his boyfriend. Matthew’s identity crisis, so sincere and so utterly harmless.

Did I say that I love it?

The fact that Maggie spared nothing. The fact that she crushed us. I know she isn’t a people pleaser and I expected Ronan to make bad decisions under Bryde’s influence, but I didn’t expect her to go this hard. How she slowly turned the fan favorite into this dark version of himself. How Ronan’s enemy has always been his own mind. The way he treats his loved ones is so wrong, he’s making terrible decisions, he’s breaking the world with all it’s beauty. And still, we understand him, we understand why, we still love him.

Say what you want, feel what you want, I understand that this book isn’t for everyone, its very dark. But this, succeeding in writing this character arc, it’s extraordinary work. You can feel throughout the book that Maggie loves it too. She's put her soul and her heart in this book. You can feel her heartbeat between the lines, and I love it. 

#Had to get something out of my heart and onto paper #so here #have my beating heart #hopefully my very strong feelings ehhh are clear #Its been less then a day #so this really is like a first vomit #enjoy #Mister Impossible spoilers #MI spoilers #mi spoiler #mister impossible spoiler #mister impossible #mi #my posts

[arahul-abyssia]

Reminiscence

Nintember story #2! (@starprincesshlc , @jklantern ). I have once more elected to write about Feelings™, but this time from a perspective I feel we rarely ever get to properly see...

~~ Wings, Laughter, Mother, Fantasy, Star ~~

When we first met, I was afraid. I had known, for as long as I could remember, that I would eventually have to leave those I had grown up with, and that I may very well never see them again. My purpose had been taught to me from the beginning, but even still, I was scared.

And so, that fateful day, I shied away, resisting the sensation in my body to flee and hide. The other two brought before you alongside me ought to have been more preferable choices; one was eager to show off every skill they knew, few though they were at the time, and the other was excitable and affectionate, quickly trusting without a second thought. But you chose me anyway; me, the one who flinched at your touch and shivered at your embrace.

I did not know what to think at first, but then, you gazed at me with those shining eyes, and smiled at me for the first time in that way you always do, and spoke to me in that soft and caring voice. And it must have been those expressions that, all at once, pierced through my fear, because in that moment, just as you chose me, I chose you.

You brought me before another, one more individual who I had never met, one who looked quite a lot like you. She knelt to look me in the eye, and reached out toward me, and once more I shied away. She did not persist in her attempt, as you did, but instead stood and looked at you with an expression that mirrored the one you gave me, and spoke to you with the same quiet and warm voice. I cannot truly describe the revelation that that was, but it too began to chip away at my unease.

Then, you waved at her, and we left, and for a time, it was just the two of us. We wandered through woods and fields, alone, only joined by others when we came upon other towns, obtaining food and supplies, sleeping, and then heading out once more in the morning. I still remember the first of these now-countless nights, where, in that tiny room, I awoke to the sound of your crying. I looked at your face, wet with tears, and saw your eyes shining in a far different way, a far worse way. You reached out toward me, slowly, and I leaned into your touch, and you confided in me how afraid you were, how new and unknown the path that lay before you was. In your eyes I saw a reflection of my own fear, and in that instant I vowed to do whatever I could to help rid you of as much of that fear as I could. I wanted desperately to tell you this, aloud, in words you could understand, but I believe that you saw my expression as I made my promise, and understood anyway.

It was not long after that when someone appeared before you and challenged you. I knew, too, that such encounters were but a natural part of my life, and almost all of those like me, but my unease rose once more, and though my vow struggled to push it back, I stood and faced the other’s partner, maintaining as brave a face as I could muster. Though the voice with which you gave me instructions was loud and forceful, I could still feel the same gentleness and care, and despite neither of us having ever before engaged in a true battle, we emerged the victors. The joy I saw in your eyes, the elation I felt in my own soul… From then on, I wanted to bring about our triumph again and again.

However, it was not long after this that we experienced our first loss. That battle was to be the first of several great milestones on this path of yours, and we came agonizingly close to victory before suffering defeat. Your confidence in me never wavered; though I placed blame upon myself for failing to fully carry out your commands and underperforming in light of the pressure, you were insistent that the fault lay only with you, for not strategizing as well as you could have and not training and strengthening the both of us as much as you should have. To this day, I do not know where the cause of our failure truly lay, but we strove to be better, and in the rematch, we secured victory.

A part of me, a small but vocal one, wished that our journey would remain ours alone, but alas, that is not how the story goes, and you had soon found another friend and partner… and then another… and, eventually, three more. And each time, though it pains me to admit and though I hate to have even remotely thought this way, that same part of my mind feared you would begin to love them alone, and turn your back on me. But for each new addition to our team, you treated them with the same love and care you showed me, in the ways they wanted and needed, never diminishing in what you gave me or any of the others. And though they returned each time, even for your sixth and, so far, final new partner, those jealousies were always soon surely and utterly dashed.

In the early days of our journey, you were stunningly focused upon battles and strength, always seeking out new opportunities for us to grow and new techniques to use in fighting. But over time, you seemed to branch out, to take days more slowly and try new things. You had us all take part in several competitions that wanted us to use our combat abilities in different and strange new ways, and we did rather well in all of them. We participated in several contests of performance, and though we did our absolute best, we were almost always outmatched. We even attempted to compete in a few challenges about food preparation, and did not win a single one. But for you, it was never about winning. No matter how many times we thought we had failed you, you assured us that it was only about the experience, to taste all the opportunities that your vast world has to offer, never faltering in your determined smile and kind laughter.

In the later parts of our adventure, we spent more time in the wilderness, sleeping under the open sky instead of in rooms of metal and wood, huddled upon the ground around small fires instead of upon soft cushions around dimly-lit tables. I recall those nights most clearly, when we all would lay gazing up at the stars and clouds, unbothered and unburdened. We could not truly talk about what we saw or how we felt, for that is one of the few curses of this world that precious few can ever break, but our bonds and connections, I believe, still let the essence of these thoughts pass between us, just as they did that very first night. Once, when I caught your eye, I renewed my vow that I made to you in that fateful moment, trying once more to communicate it to you through expression alone. I may not have powerful wings to carry you amidst the winds, or strong flippers to show you the depths of the seas, or a vast body to wholly shield you from every storm, but I swear I shall do everything in power, and more, to protect you, to guide your way through darkness, through trials and tribulations alike, just as you have guided me.

I am larger now, stronger now, as are you. We have both come farther than I could ever have fathomed. You pushed me to be the very best that I could be, and though perfection is never truly achievable, I have chased it relentlessly, always reaching for new heights. Now, we stand at the culmination of all our victories, the final battle, the fight whose victory shall prove a crowning achievement in our long, long journey, a journey which shall not end upon our triumph, but merely be born anew, turning onto the next page.

For you, for me, for our friends, for all of us, for every joy and hardship we experienced along the way, I swear upon all that is my being that we shall prevail this day.

#nintember #i should hope by the end of this it's clear what the subject is but just in case it isnt: #pokemon #pokémon #my writing #also i nearly made myself cry multiple times while writing this

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

KitTy Flower Cards Fan Fic - House of cards (Chapter 8)

KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate the release of Ty’s latest flower card. I alternate between Kit and Ty’s POV.

If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?

Following Chapter is Chapter 8 - House of cards.

****

They landed gracefully on the New York Institute’s roof.

Although there was a chill in the air and their bodies were drenched in sweat, Kit did not feel cold. Fire was still burning in his veins, the remnant of his transformation.

He was standing with his arms around Ty, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered from the fight and the flight.

Ty was taller than him and as Kit lifted his head to check Ty’s face for injuries, he realized with a jolt that their lips were so close they were almost touching. If he moved just a little closer… If he dared to cross the small space between them… He would be able to feel Ty’s lips against his, to discover if they were as soft as they looked...

Ty’s hands went up Kit’s chest… and pushed him away with such force that Kit almost fell backwards.

Kit swiftly recovered from the shove but was still in shock as he looked at Ty’s face and noticed for the first time - as he had been focused until then on Ty’s lips - that his expression was… furious.

****

Now that they were finally alone, far from the noise and far from the crowd, emotions that Ty had kept buried deep inside came crashing down, unbound and untamed.

Of course, there was relief. Relief to see that Kit was unharmed and that he had somehow managed to find his wings. Through all the research he had made, Ty had guessed about this power but without absolute certainty.

Relief that he had managed to fight without his headphones on, amidst the chaos and cacophony generated by the swarm of Faerie warriors surrounding him, because Kit was there, a short distance away, and he needed him. Ty could not let him down, could not betray him with his own limitations. Somehow, at least for the short period of time that was necessary, Ty had managed to find the strength to clear his head and to focus on Kit’s survival.

Guilt, as well. Guilt for bringing Kit straight into his enemies' lair, although he had not planned to. Guilt for having missed this turn of events, for letting his mind be clouded by the thrill of gathering more information, of solving a new mystery.

Above all, fear. Fear of losing Kit, of failing him when he had dedicated three years of his life to protect him.

But mostly fear of losing the opportunity to unburden himself of the weight that had been a constant ache in his heart. Ty had never been afraid of dying. He was, however, terrified of dying without having the chance to speak three simple words to Kit.

They were screaming for release now, obstructing his lungs, choking him.

Kit already knew about Ty’s feelings. Ty was certain of it. After all, how could he not? With the only exception of Livvy, Ty had never been closer to anyone else, had never trusted anyone else so completely with his deepest secrets and darkest plans, including the one to raise Livvy from the dead. He had never let anyone touch him like Kit did.

But Kit’s knowledge of his feelings was not enough, Ty needed to voice them, to unload them on Kit, so that Kit could share the burden with him. Only then, would he be able to breathe easily again.

And that’s why, despite himself, Ty felt anger boiling inside him. If you had given me the chance to tell you these words before you left, I would not have been carrying them around like a weight in my chest all these years.

“Ty- Ty, what’s the matter?” Kit said gently. As if Ty had not pushed him away with all the strength he could muster. He could see that there was hurt in Kit’s eyes, but mainly worry.

Kit’s blue eyes. Ty turned away from them, not trusting himself to utter a single word, and started walking towards the exit door, desperate to leave the roof. He needed distance from Kit and the emotions the mere sight of him triggered.

“SO WHAT? You don’t have anything to say to me?” Kit suddenly cried, startling Ty.

Ty froze, hunching his shoulders and clutching at his heron-shaped pendant.

“How about thank you for getting us the hell out of there ?” Kit continued.

It was the only push Ty’s defense walls needed to come tumbling down. Ty whirled to face Kit.

“Why did you come, Kit? WHY? You would have died Kit, you would have died if you had not found your wings! Why do you have to make it so hard to keep you safe!”

Kit no longer looked concerned, anger seemed to have wiped away all other conflicting emotions.

“Look at me, Ty. LOOK AT ME!” Kit said, opening his arms and extending his wings to their full length.

Kit had never looked more beautiful and more surreal than he was now, an angel in all his glory, blond curls plastered to his face and fiery blue eyes burning everything in their path, including Ty’s chest.

Still, Ty didn’t understand why Kit was asking him to look at him, when he was already looking at him. He was already all Ty could see. That’s one of the reasons I know I love you, Kit.

In two strides Kit had Ty pinned against the wall, his hands grasping Ty’s shoulders.

“DO YOU THINK I NEED PROTECTION?” Kit spat.

His body was pressed against Ty’s, sending an electric jolt wherever they touched. Ty couldn’t think properly, couldn’t process what was happening to him. He couldn’t prevent the acceleration of his heartbeat or cool down the blood boiling in his veins, burning away his defenses like wildfire.

Ty pushed Kit away. Hard.

“LET GO OF ME!” he said.

Kit stumbled but recovered, his burning eyes widening in shock. His wings slowly folded until they disappeared in his back. He was breathing hard, his muscles taut with the effort of holding still.

Ty wanted to give himself over to Kit’s arms, like he had in the nightclub, but he was too focused on fighting each of his conflicting impulses. Anger finally won the battle of emotions raging inside him.

“YOU REALLY THINK YOU DON’T NEED TO BE PROTECTED?” Ty cried. “You really think all this time you have been living a peaceful life in Devon, the outside world was oblivious to you? You have no idea, Kit. You have no idea. It has been coming from everywhere! Everywhere !”

Ty whirled and punched his fist against the wall with such force that he felt – and heard – his bones crush, pain shooting up his arm.

****

Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia

#cassandraclare #cassandra clare #cassandra clare fan fiction #tsc fanfiction #tsc fan fiction #kitty tda #tda fanfiction #kitty fanfiction #the dark artifices #the wicked powers #kit herondale #kit herongraystairs #tiberius blackthorn #ty blackthorn #kitty blackstairs

[galoots]

Promt 1

Prompt 1 -- “You’re the only thing left that is important to me now.”

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

Scrooge was a hard worker.

That had always been true. But ever since the untimely death of his sister and her husband, his resolve to work had strengthened tenfold. He spent every moment he could focused on work. For any time not spent on work or caring for Donald was a moment he spent mired in grief.

Far better to work himself to the bone, then to stop and feel, for even a moment, the terrible loss he’d suffered.

And Donald, poor Donald. Only a babe and no mother or father to hold him. All that was left was a sad sack excuse of an uncle to look after him now. And clearly one that was failing in his parental duties. Every night Donald had spent in his uncle’s care, the baby had slept fitfully, waking up in the middle of the night with a heart-wrenching cry that ripped Scrooge from his own restless sleep.

Tonight’s awakening sent Scrooge tumbling from his bed and onto the floor. Panicked and tangled in his bedsheets, Scrooge neglected donning his housecoat and sprinted to his babe in only the thin nightshirt he wore to bed.

The halls of his home felt longer at night, cloaked in darkness, and keeping him away from his distressed child. Reaching Donald’s room after what felt like an eternity, Scrooge threw open the door to the hastily arranged nursery.

Donald was lying in his crib. Right where he’d left him. But he’d become unswaddled with his thrashing and his tiny fists were balled up by his side. The boy’s face was red and tear streaked.

Scrooge had yet to decipher the various coded cries of his nephews in a short stint as a parent. What was wrong? Was he hungry? In pain? Colicky? Upset? How was Scrooge to tell the difference? Hortense would have known what was wrong.

Did he miss his mom?

The thought stung Scrooge. Hortense was the one thing Scrooge couldn’t be for Donald. No matter how hard he tried.

He laid a gentle hand on Donald’s forehead—feverish. A spike of fear struck Scrooge’s gut and sent a chill through his body. His baby was sick. With what? The parenting books Scrooge had been voraciously reading flashed through his mind. What illness could it be? A cold? Pneumonia? Croup? Influenza? Something worse?

Meningitis, perhaps? Infants were susceptible to the bacterial infection. It could kill his child. Or, at the very least, result in long-term damage. Terrifying phrases paraded around his mind like bogeymen in the night. Febrile seizures danced hand in hand with Reye’s syndrome, heel-toeing a terrifying tarantella to erratic music. The minor devils of dehydration and colic thrust their pitchforks into Scrooge’s heart. Jaundice, with its sickly yellow skin, rasped a haunting laugh—its crackled skin heaving with each exhalation. Behind them all loomed the ashen figure of Death. Its face was obscured by a gauzy veil, but still Scrooge could feel its empty sunken-eyed gaze upon him, and its ever-gnashing teeth were hungry for more.

Scrooge gripped in his child in his arms. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t do anything. For all the power of his position in the realm of business, he still found himself helpless. The walls were closing in around him, suffocating him. Hortense would have known what to do. Hortense would have known what to do! Soon those words were all Scrooge could focus on.  

In an instant, everything caught up with Scrooge. The stress, the pain, the sleepless nights—all the things he had tried to push down so deep it couldn’t disturb him, came rushing up. A well dislodged inside him and tears poured from his eyes. He buried his face in the boy’s stomach.

“Please, please, Donald.” He needed him to be ok. “You’re all I have left,” he sobbed.

Tears soaked into the soft cotton of Donald’s onesie. “You’re the only important thing left in my life.”

“Ok, well, that’s sort of rude.” A voice commented. It cut through Scrooge’s panic with sharp-edged annoyance.

“Duckworth?” Scrooge scrubbed away his tears.

“Excuse me if I take that a little personally, Scrooge.” Duckworth, looking well put together even in the early hours of the morn, stood in the doorway with a disapproving frown.

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean—I mean I didn’t know you were—”

Duckworth shushed him. He turned on the lights and swept into the room. Like always, Duckworth exerted a calm graceful influence over the room, straightening bits and bobs as he moved effortlessly towards him. Duckworth slipped a woolen blanket over Scrooge’s shoulders before easing the child from his grasp. Scrooge hadn’t even realized he’d been shivering.

“Was I expected to sleep through that bombastic display of our little one’s vocal abilities?” Duckworth soothingly stroked Donald’s mussed up feathers and brushed away tears. “I’d say we need not worry about his lung capacity! I could hear Donald crying from my quarters. Quite the voice you’ve got on you, poppet. Right good. Give them hell, I say.”

Duckworth’s calming presence had shaken Scrooge from his panic, but it hadn’t dispelled it entirely. Scrooge clutched at the blanket on his shoulders with white-knuckled ferocity. “The boy, Donald, he’s sick, Duckworth. He’s sick.”

Duckworth smiled benevolently at his long-time friend. “Breathe, Scrooge. Everything will be ok.”

Scrooge took a shaky breath. “What do we do?”

“First of all, let’s not panic. We can take care of this. Second, we take his temperature. If it’s under 102 degrees, its probably not a cause for alarm. We’ll check for symptoms and call the pediatrician to relay our discoveries. In the meantime, we can dress him in lighter clothing and feed him some formula, so he stays hydrated.”

“But, but…” That all seemed so reasonable, yet Scrooge stoked his own anxieties out of habit. “He seemed so upset! Surely something must be terribly wrong?”

Duckworth chuckled. “He has a slight fever and he’s fussy, Scrooge. Let’s not invent problems where there are none.” He slid the boy back into Scrooge’s arms. “Have a seat in the rocking chair, alright? I think the two of you could use some calming.”

Exhausted, Scrooge sank into the seat of the offered chair. He rocked back and forth for his own benefit as much as Donald’s. As the two calmed down, Duckworth left the room to gather the necessary items.

Donald’s cries slowly abated as he was rocked. He looked up at his uncle curiously with tears still lingering in his eyes. He reached out an uncoordinated hand towards his caretaker and stroked his face. If Scrooge didn’t know any better, he’d say it was almost like the boy was trying to tell him everything would be ok.

That was ridiculous thought, but Scrooge cradled the tiny hand in his own, pressing it reverently to his face. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that for time slowed as he gazed at his nephew. For the first time since his frightened awakening, he felt his churning mind pause. Maybe even for the first time since he’d received the awful news of his sister’s passing.

In this moment, there was only the two of them. In this moment, Scrooge felt the pain of his loss in full. Beneath the anxieties, fear, and panic, grief throbbed like an old wound reopening.

“Hortense and Quackmore… They’re… They’re gone.” His voice caught on the last note, hitching in his throat, almost too painful to leave.

“I know.” Duckworth stood in the doorway; his arms filled with the various items they needed to treat Donald. Tears pooled in Duckworth’s eyes as he remembered his lost friends. “And we’ll always miss them.”

Scrooge hadn’t noticed his friend’s return. He’d spoken the words to himself, finally admitting what he’d lost. “But Donald, he’s… he’s all alone.”

“He has us now.”

“What if we’re not enough?” Scrooge asked, his eyes searching Duckworth’s with desperation for all the answers he didn’t have.

“We will be.”

Tears flowed free and easy from Scrooge’s eyes. This time unburdened by the weight he’d used to sink them down deep inside of him. In this room were the only two people Scrooge felt could be permitted this vulnerability. “Are you scared?”

Duckworth hadn’t expected that question. “Of course.”

“But you seem so calm! Like you know everything! You didn’t even bat an eye when I told you Donald was sick!”

Duckworth closed his eyes for a moment. “I was scared.” He moved from the doorway to Scrooge’s side, pressing his weight into Scrooge’s feathery bulk. “I’m still scared.”

He traced a finger across Donald’s cheek. “But I try to keep it together. For him.” Duckworth placed a hand on Scrooge’s shoulder. “For you.”

Scrooge leaned into Duckworth’s warm body. He said nothing. He felt there was nothing left to be said. He let himself reconcile with the thought they were moving forward together. All of three of them, making unsteady steps towards the future, sharing in uncertainty, pain and loss, as well as love.

#LDU #loots duck universe #duckverse #disney ducks #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #fanfic

[eirian-houpe]

The Price

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper, Gideon (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Family, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, post season 6

Summary: All magic comes with a price, but this is one price that Rumplestiltskin is more than willing to pay.

Read on AO3

The Price

The darkness, the storm, raged outside of the high window and Gold paced as though he were a part of it. With each turn he caught sight of the Cricket - no, he shouldn’t call him that - Doctor Hopper, hovering by the open doorway.

At least they’d learned that much… not to try and lock him in.

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the room in a blinding brightness, and Gold buried his face in the arm of his disheveled suit. Gone was his immaculate shield, shredded in grip of the cold and dark flaring within.

“I… I really think it would help if you talk about it,” Doctor Hopper ventured hesitantly.

“No!” Gold growled, rounding on the man as though he’d just suggested murdering babies, hand raised, poised to grasp the man by his ethereal throat and squeeze the breath out of him, but Archie raised a hand of his own, placating, apologetic, and Gold maintained enough presence of mind to halt his darker impulses. Then, more quietly, he repeated, “No. I don’t need to talk.”

“Then… what do you need, Gold,” Hopper asked softly, “Right now, what do you need?”

Before he could answer, he heard familiar footfalls hurrying his way, and he groaned in dismay. He would have preferred she didn’t see him like this, but also knew that neither the acts of the gods nor of man would keep her from his side.

The good doctor, however, did not seem to understand the dynamic of their relationship, and stepped out into the hallway only to catch Belle by the shoulders as she hit his chest almost at a full on run.

“Belle, I really um… I think that—” he stuttered.

“Get. Out. Of my way,” she growled, and Rumplestiltskin could not help but feel a swell of pride for his beautiful beloved.

He turned to face the door as she pushed past Hopper, who stayed out in the hallway, moving out to meet another approaching figure, but Gold’s lack of interest in whom, and the immediacy of Belle’s nearness pulled his attention back to the present space and time.

“Rumple,” she breathed against his neck as she drew him into a tight embrace. Her presence strengthened him, anchored him for a moment at least. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“I knew you would,” he whispered into her hair, wrapping his own arms around her and pulling her desperately close.

“They said it was you,” she drew back just enough to see his face, and he wanted to hide it from her, could almost feel the tightness of the green-gold scales spreading over his skin like gooseflesh. “All those people, Rumple, I—”

They.

There it was again, this ‘they’, who always passed judgment, and found him wanting; who didn’t even care enough to comfort the woman he loved as she grieved his death. Who used her when they saw fit. Who came to him only when they wanted a solution to some problem that only he could provide, because then, whatever the price, whatever the consequences, he would be the one to pay.

They deserved death. They deserved worse than he had visited upon them.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I failed you.”

“No,” she shook her head, but her eyes were clouded with doubt and he could almost see the scattered bodies: Charming, Snow, Regina, his own grandson, and the Savior - Main Street, Storybrooke running red with the blood of the righteous. “It wasn’t your fault. I know the Black Fairy had something to do with it.”

“But I…” he trailed off, unable to speak for shame, and then spiraling down into the rising darkness, let out a sub-vocal whine from the back of his throat. Memories came thick and fast, and the satisfaction of feeling their bones snap beneath his hands, and their blood and pleas for mercy running over him, brought the Darkness streaming in.

“Rumple, what happened?” Belle asked tenderly, but he shook his head. So, she implored him, “Tell me.”

“I can’t tell you, Belle. I won’t!” His voice was suddenly the angry snarl of a wounded, wild animal; the Dark One enraged. “The truth is too—”

“Lie to me, then,” she offered, clasping his face between her palms even as his claw-like grasp on her wrist fought to pull her touch away from him. “Say something, anything, only don’t shut me out, Rumple. Please!”

Her tears were his undoing and slowly, haltingly, he unfolded his terrible torment.

**

Lightning flashed, disrupting the memory of the nightmare.

Rumple heard the soft creek of the bed behind him in the moment before the thunder rolled overhead, the growl of a beast, unsettled, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t move except to close his eyes to better hear the softly murmured cooing that accompanied the quiet, infant grumble at being moved.

He felt her heat beside him a moment later, as Belle slipped her unburdened arm across his naked back, around his waist and nestled against his still warm chest. Dark Ones don’t feel the cold.

“Another nightmare?” she asked softly, and Rumple made a low sound of confirmation and denial both at the same time. It wasn’t another nightmare, it was the same nightmare. The same over and over again. “Rumple,” Belle sighed softly, “I know you don’t need to sleep. If it will spare you these nightmares—”

“No!” he said far too sharply, and then, more gently as he turned to look at her and reached out to wrap his arms around her and draw her closer to his warmth, her and Gideon both, “No. I promised you and our son that I would live life as a normal man as much as I can. If these nightmares are the price I must pay for all the outstanding debts my use of magic has wrought, if it will keep my promise to you both, then…” he paused to tenderly kiss Belle’s brow, breathing in the scent of sleep and roses that still clung to her. Then he carefully ran his fingertips over Gideon’s brow, smiling as the newborn burble settled into a sleepy sigh, eventually he finished, “It is a price I am more than willing to pay.”

#rumbelle #angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #family #post season 6 #a monthly rumbelling #a monthly rumbelling april 2021 #writers games #prompts

[sunflowersoonyoung]

words left unsaid | sinb

w.c ↠ 1.7k

pairing ↠ sinb x gender neutral!reader

genres/s ↠ fluff, a smidge of angst, friends to lovers au!

description ↠ You regret not speaking your thoughts after potentially losing your best friend and the love of your life, Hwang Eunbi. However, fate brings you together after years apart.

warning/s ↠ n/a

author’s note ↠ this took me an afternoon to write which is extremely quick for me! I did proofread it but I'm not sure if it feels rushed. regardless, goofy best friend sinb is my favourite~

-

Your experience with Middle School had been dull and uneventful, until a fateful meeting with Hwang Eunbi.

The library was a sanctuary for you, a quiet place for you to focus entirely on schoolwork without distractions. The scent of dust mingled with old books was soothing, a smell you had learned to associate with relaxation. Back then it was not uncommon for you to be found there, tucked in the corner buried in schoolwork.

No one had ever approached you, not until Eunbi. Urgently scrawling out the contents of a closely due assignment, you had believed you were alone until she placed a hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention.

“Excuse me,” her voice was melodic, soft, pleasant to your ears, “do you think you could help me?”

A petite girl was peering down at you, silky raven hair cascading down her chest in waves. She offered you a smile and you felt a burst of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Immediately your face heated up, too shy to maintain eye contact with the gorgeous stranger.

“I-I can,” you responded, your attempt to swallow a stutter failing. Her smile only widened, perfect rows of teeth glistening back at you - a hint of awkwardness beneath the surface as she spoke again.

“Thanks. I don’t really know where anything is in here. I’m trying to find a geography textbook.”

She trailed closely behind you, weaving between bookshelves till you reached the far end of the library. You gestured broadly to a collection of books, “here.” When you turned to face her, dismay painted her features, and for a moment you thought you had lead her to the wrong section. She huffed and pointed to the top shelf out of her reach, “it’s all the way up there.”

After both of you took turns in attempting to jump and snatch the textbook, unfortunately with no luck, an idea seemed to cross her mind. She swivelled towards you with a mischievous grin, oblivious to how it made your heart flutter.

“Wanna try sitting on my shoulders?”

A coy giggle bubbled up from your throat at the image. How would this small-framed girl manage to carry you on her shoulders, let alone stand and sustain herself with you atop of her?

At her urging, you ignored the thoughts at the back of your head that warned you this was a bad idea and swung your legs over her front, flailing for purchase and grasping her hair to balance yourself. For a brief second, it seemed as if it would work out until she tried to stand on trembling legs. As you had predicted, she was not nearly strong enough to support you. With a yelp, you slid from her grasp and both of you tumbled back onto the carpet.

You both exploded with unrestrained laughter, disturbing the peaceful library. Glancing at her with her face lit up, you were overcome with joy, unable to tear your eyes away. There was no longer anything else you desired; you only wanted to see her laugh like this every day for the rest of your life.

You assured yourself that moment that you would become her closest friend, truly believing that would be enough for you.

-

The closer you were to Eunbi, the stronger your affections for her developed; in High School, she had been your universe in which no one else dared to enter. It was obvious from the outside that your bond was different, filled with a romantic tension that both of you were blind to.

It was a hot summer evening, a film of sweat sticking to your skin as you walked alone. This was a rare occurrence, as usually Eunbi would join you and overload your head with chatter along the way to your accustomed hangout.

It was a routine you both seldom broke. You would first stop at a small convenience store and spend pocket money on sweets and soda, or hot drinks in the winter. Then, whilst conversing the whole way, you would cross the road and sit on the bottom of a grassy riverbank, observing the ducks as they floated past.

Today, since you were alone, you paused only briefly inside the store for a cold drink, pressing it to your reddened cheeks. As you had hoped, Eunbi was waiting in your usual place, crouched with her back faced towards you. You neared and realised her shoulders were quivering. Sobs wracked her body, muffled but barely audible.

“Eunbi? Are you okay?”

She hurriedly rubbed her face with her forearms as if trying to hide that she had been crying, though her splotchy skin revealed all. You almost slipped as you hastily rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around her as tightly as you could.

“We’re both graduating soon, and I’m scared,” she admitted, reluctant to meet your gaze, “I-I’m going to a performing arts university in Seoul.”

The abrupt confession dropped cubes of ice into your belly, overwhelming you with a dread that travelled over your skin from your toes to your forehead. You were numb as you pulled away from her, a belated response of betrayal beginning to swell in your chest.

“But...you promised you would go somewhere in the same city as me,” you finally spoke, having to pry the words from your dry throat.

“I know, (F/n), but this is my future.” She was frowning, her hands trembling in the wake of your disapproval.

“But what about us?” Your words carried a weight that you were not quite ready to explain. It meant something entirely different to you because you were worried about missing the opportunity to confess your affections to her.

You don’t realise that you are crying until Eunbi’s eyes reflect sadness at you. You are too hot with emotion to care for her sympathy, turning on your heel and fleeing. It would be a decision you would come to regret.

Closing yourself in the haven of your bedroom, the horror of the incident began to sink in. You bawled into your pillow, lamenting over every harsh sentence you had uttered.

The following day at school, you found yourself unable to speak to your best friend out of humiliation, and Eunbi seemed unbothered by this, proceeding with her day as usual - but without you. You didn’t blame her; you had hurt her considerably.

By the time graduation came, a wall of silence was still between you.

Years would pass by. Girlfriends and short flings would occur, nothing unusual for a college student - though none could take your mind off your goofy, affectionate ex-best friend. Some nights you would lay still in bed as you recounted all of the joyful memories you shared with her. You often pictured her lying beside you.

It was not until you had finally integrated into the working world that you were sentimental enough to revisit your old hangout. Usually, you made excuses to yourself that it was too far of a drive and that it would only reopen sensitive wounds. You considered turning around multiple times, but an invisible force drew you to that riverbank on that particular day.

You were mildly surprised to discover that the old convenience store still open. White paint was peeling off of the walls in flecks, but it was still upright and working.

For old time’s sake, you entered, purchasing a can of vanilla coke and a bag of potato chips. Traipsing down to the grassy slope across the road with a plastic bag at your hip, you felt invigorated by your decision to return this afternoon. Perhaps it was the association with your youth.

A woman sat at the bottom of the hillside, slender legs stretched out in front of her as she seemed to take in the fresh breeze. Her dark locks had been cut in a neat line around her jaw, the quality of her hair so silky that it shone. She was turned away from you enough that you could not see her features.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” You inquired softly, and she turned to look at you.

Although so many years had changed, beautiful Eunbi had barely changed. Maturity settled on her facade like dust, but other than that she was the same. Her stunned expression tells you that you were equally as recognisable.

“(F/n)?” Her voice was small as if she hardly dared to ask. You answered with a curt nod, scanning the grown Eunbi that was struggling to her feet before you.

Abruptly she threw herself into your embrace, a sweet warmth overwhelming you as she gave you the contact you had craved from her ever since you had parted. An aromatic, flowery scent wafted from her, and you were embarrassed to admit that it made your mouth water.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumbled against her shoulder, earning a soft tut from her lips.

“I’m sorry too,” she responded, “there’s a lot I wish I had said to you.”

She withdraws, interlocking her fingers with yours tightly as if scared you would leave otherwise. An unexpected tension crackles through the lukewarm atmosphere, the kind of tension that only materializes between timid lovers.

“I love you (F/n). I’ve felt like something has been missing all these years without you. Ever since that day in the library.”

Whatever you were expecting her to say, it was certainly not that. Her confession was so confident that you immediately accepted it to be true, despite the doubt that sat in the back of your head. The air grew considerably hotter against your cheeks, warmth rising up your neck and reaching the tips of your ears.

“Me too, Eunbi,” you were stumbling over your words as you hurried to reciprocate, “I-I was always so scared you would reject me.”

A toothy grin stretched across her face once she realised what had just happened. Words that had been left unsaid had finally unburdened the both of you. She eagerly cupped your cheeks and swept you into a kiss. The sensation was far better than your first kiss, full of longing, relief and a little desperation. It was shallow but meaningful.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” she purred against your lips, that same mischievous twinkle in her eyes that you had witnessed all those years ago.

#gfriend #gfriend sinb #gfriend x reader #gfriend imagines #gfriend fluff #sinb x reader #sinb imagine #sinb fluff #Hwang eunbi #Hwang Eunbi x reader #Hwang Eunbi imagine #Hwang Eunbi fluff #girl group fluff #girl group imagines #girl group x reader #gxg #gxg imagine #wlw

[writingsofmyimagination]

Instinct |6|

Levi x Reader

Summary: An unwelcome(ish) blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

So I decided to carry on with the series. Bit of a time jump... now around Chapter 72 time :)

tags: @nefelimalfoy​ @beautifulimperfections13​ @pjimochi​ @submissive-bangtan​

Enjoy :)

Words:3232

Warnings: Swearing (Obvs), Smut, Smut -Pretty Sub Levi…..Like Oooof!

“Sooo, how did it go with Erwin, I assume you tried again to convince him to stay” Levi and you merged to walk the same direction in the dusty courtyard. Green cape briskly swept over your shoulder as the wind nipped at your forearms; little pin pricks of cold. The temperature measured equally in Levi’s dark face; hair half drooped over his forehead. The orange hue from all the lamps casting a shadow covering a scowl which quickly came into view.

“That good huh?” you added, trying to coax blood out of a stone.

“Those two brats just don’t stop” The stone completing dodging the question.

Oh

“Again!?” Eyes rolling.

“You should just let them go for it; they’d tire themselves out eventually”

“Ugh… if I didn’t need to make sure his energy was fully preserved for tomorrow I would” Levi unburdened you of the large unopened bottle of vodka from under your arm.

“Corporal YL/N” Erwin called as he added another walking body to the courtyard.

“I’ll catch up” You offered Levi as he’d already turned his back to you and walked off. The trio of Mikasa, Eren and Armin bundled out of the canteen hall in a cheery ball of jest.

“Hey suicidal maniac!” Jean called propping the canteen door open with his foot, hand gripped around a green survey corp jacket.

“You forgot this” Jacket launched quicker than Eren could react. You rushed over before Eren had finished screaming ‘You little…’. Your fist tight around Eren’s. You twisted his arm manipulating him to the ground before he could strike.

“Aaah” Eren wailed as he picked himself up from the dirt.

“Jean, extra clean up duty” His face shadowed with annoyance; Eren’s on the other hand brightened.

“Eren after this mission cleaning duty with Levi wherever he chooses”. It was now Eren’s turn for his face to drop and Jean’s to brighten in a balanced 360.

“Yes Corporal” They both mumbled heads down. Jean disappeared back to the canteen and Eren slumped down on the steps next to Mikasa and Armin.

“Sorry Commander” Returning to where you were called.

“It’s quite alright, ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as you can be” Your response was still yet polite.

“Oh come on Y/N, I know your pumped, no need to be restrained for me. Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that I will be commanding tomorrows mission Despite the chattering going through the core at present”

“Sir, honestly,  I wouldn’t expect anything less, this is your dream too”

“Levi tried to convince me otherwise, to his failure of course”

“He did mention it, mostly in the form of him being quieter and slightly grumpier than normal”

A slight knowing smile crept minutely onto Erwin’s lips.

“I thought as much, anyway, enjoy your night. I assume the bottle Levi stropped off with was for you”

“Most definitely more for me. Good night commander. Rest well”.

The trio were still sat perched on the steps. Armin, the forever motivator of life beyond the walls exciting the others. The glimmer of hope sprinkled on their expressions light bright fairy dust a refreshing view. Even on Mikasa it was a sight to behold.

Entering the archway something black and still in the corner drew your attention. Head dropped down, his sullen gaze lightened, a few creases less on his face when the confusion struck yours.

“Didn’t know earwigging was your thing” You said, quieter to not alert the three kids. Levi shuffled himself off the floor and vigorously brushed himself down, slight creases grew in his forehead at checking his hands. He gave one more rushed wipe down before you both made your way to his office

“I wasn’t earwigging… I was listening to the brats be hopeful and dream about the future” There was slight distaste scattered through his words.

“Sooooo earwigging…. And is that a bad thing?” The over-dramatic roll of his eyes was heard like a sassy echo in the bare office he liked to squirrel away in.

All that was scattered on the wooden table to the back of the room was a few sheets of paper with diagrams, drawing, indecipherable scribbles that only Levi could understand.

He slumped himself down onto the armed wooden chair, scowl still present staring blankly down at the desk.

Jeez he really is in a grump.

“Okay captain scowl!” You began.

“Erwin needs this, I’m sure he is more than aware that this could potentially be his last mission. He’s not the type to sit back the same way you aren’t” Your arms now folded, strength firm in your stance.

“But his loss would be detrimental to humanity, guy is a damn genius��

“Yeessss he’s a genius, will it be a huge hit, course it will, but he wouldn’t be going if he knew that the Corps wouldn’t be in good hands if something were to happen” He shuffled the papers into a somewhat neater pile and placed them meticulously down in the centre of the table.

“I suppose your right” He conceded twiddling a pencil through his fingers.

“Aren’t I always?” Whisky frosting half of the small tumbler a golden brown which soon disappeared when the glass touched your lips.

“Now....” hanging onto the word diffusing into something much more sultry

You waltzed over to his desk, fingers already teasing undone the buttons of your blouse.

“Can you please stop thinking about work, it’s going to be a challenging day tomorrow as it is” you pleaded leaning against his desk facing him. The final button undone, sight teasing him away from his concentration. Holding the sides of the shirt like curtains to a happier Levi.

“Understatement” He mumbled, his finger finding its way through a belt loop, corner of his lips turning up to a wicked smirk, just how you like them.

“It’s also an understatement that you’re such a tease” he added, the shimmering glaze of mischief reflecting in his eyes coaxed a raised eyebrow with the victorious tinge of your lips.

“Oh Soo I am tempting you then?” his leg now in between yours, his hand resting on your sides

“Perhaps” He tugged at your bra with strong determined hands freeing your breast for his teeth to lightly toy with. Your only was response to hum in approval.

“LEEEVVIIII!” A high wailed cry barely muffled by the dark wooden door.

“Shit!” the pair of you breathed unanimously. You didn’t have any time to fix any of your clothing predicament before the door crashed open and Hanje burst in. To her you were just lent up against Levi’s desk with your arms folder; Levi remained in the chair stoic as ever.

Don’t come round!, don’t come round!

Panicked thoughts spun through your mind like a pin wheel.

“What do you want Hanje?” Annoyance slipping over Levi’s voice coating of distaste thoroughly embedded through it.

“I just wanted to let you know everything is ready for tomorrow”

That’s oddly calm considering her entrance.

Hanje looked mildy uncomfortable, her cheeks were slightly puffed, eyes were wide and flitty. Thankfully she’d not move from where she stopped on the right side of the desk.

You and Levi both waited a beat

“AREN’T YOU BOTH SOOO EXCITED!” She finally burst, her body fully exploding with movement. High pitched; almost intolerable. Levi’s eyes rolled. Obviously.

There we go.

“We’re going to THE BASEMENT!” she continued, her hyped up voice became distant as it was drowned out by the concentration of your fingers being sly in trying to do your buttons up. Levi thankfully battered no eyelids at your miniscule movements. Your shoulders dropped, reveal crisis averted.

“I’m aware” Levi droned

“Is Levi not too much of a damn stone to be spending all this time with? If I didn’t know Levi had such a small capacity for emotions, I’d say you two are a thing”

Hilarious. He may not have the massive heart…

“Can you actually imagine?” You laughed competing with her hysterics.

“Jesus Christ Ladies!” Levi complained tutting.

“I’m sorry Levi” Hanje managed still trying to control her laughter turning and leaving humming way too loudly on her exit.

“Can you not encourage that damn woman” He whined, stood out of his chair encroaching on your personal space, stealing a hard kiss from you.

“I thing you’ll find I’m helping our cover.” The two of you quickly became absorbed into each other again. As cold as he could be, his body never failed to be the warmth pressed against you that you needed.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass” he quipped back.

A pain in his ass he couldn’t let go of

“If you take me upstairs, I will be” You tested. His smirk against your lips was matched, pupils growing pools of craving.

Door clicked shut on the rest of the world, his shirt racing to the floor before you could tussle the buttons of your own shirt back open. The back of your legs hitting the rough surface of the table, the contact not disrupting the soft pressure of his lips dancing with yours; his bottom lip catching numerous times between the gentle tug of your teeth. The harsh pillows didn’t linger on your lips for long. The nips at your neck quickly ached with desperation, impatience crying through the hands fumbling at your trouser buttons. Your trousers pooled at the floor; strong grip at your waist encouraging you half onto the table. You placed a stern hand on his chest in halt.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed through staggered breathes. You answered with movement grabbing the towel from the dresser and coating the table.

“I’m not getting splinters for you. On your knees” You ordered sliding up onto the table after slipping of your underwear in a seductive swoop. Levi on his knees focused glistened eyes zoning on your every small movement. His glare ran ablaze with your foot firm on his shoulder, drinking in the view of soft pale skin. The thighs he knew looked so pretty with blossoming red flower bruises. The way he loved to make them quiver; you whimpering his name.

“Always so patient” you praised. His insides were clenched, teetering on the edge of desperation. Dying for your call. He swallowed hard, with the insatiable thirst had ravaging over him. This may have combusted when your hand dipped between your own thighs. Humanities strongest kneeling desperate on the floor beneath you trying to harness all the will to stay put.

“Tell me what you want” you offered your hand, foot sliding of his shoulder.  His mouth enveloped round the wetness of your fingers; a deep hum vibrated through his throat.

Your legs now parted with him snug in-between. He was making you wait for his answer.

“Well?” He stilled for a moment completely faking to ponder. Hands ghosting up your lower leg, your soft skin only imploring him higher. Your index finger stroking come hither under his chin

“Mmm” The pair of you mumbled, white knuckles gripped his shoulders. Even with your lips pressed together you could feel the wicked way the edges of his lips curled upwards.

“This” he managed, drowning out your whine. Already feeling the controlled digits inside pressing to your walls.

“Be more specific or you get nothing” pleasant strain and held back whines hidden terribly in your voice.

“Ugh” Levi complained.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?”

“On the chair!”. Your tone snapper quicker than a whip.

“You can’t tell me what you want, then I’m just going to keep giving until I’m finished with you”

“Hands behind your back until I say otherwise” you added, hands prying his thighs wider.

“Eyes on me baby” He tried not to blink. Forcing himself to look down, refusing his eyes to roll upward as you’d dropped to your knees. Tongue licking a slow stripe on the underside of his member. His bottom lip catching between his teeth. He could only enjoy the sweet warmth of your mouth for a few blissful moments before his bottom lip puffed out in hardcore sulk mode. You turned from him, sweeping your hair to the front of your shoulder carefully balancing your weight as you lowered yourself onto him; not how he’d like. You’d sat on his lap purposely avoiding him. Your hips circled, your head back resting the side of his neck, his low whines now right at the shell of your ear.

“Oh did you think I’d give it up that easy?”

“Don’t think so ….”

You thumb teased over the tip of his cock before honing your attention to focus on the movement of your hips”

“Please” He whined

“I’ve hardly done anything” You toyed. Knowing full well it didn’t matter; not with the fact the pair of you had had little time over the last week or so. It was all just too easy to get to him.

“Mmm…no. You can sit there and feel me.”

Frustration began seething though his controlled breaths, hips trying to match your movements under your weight. Your skin was heating up, but yet you could almost shiver with how sparked your nerve endings were. His lips stuttering soundlessly

“Something you wanna say?”

“Please just cum on me…”

//

Pale milky wax in droplets solidified on his chest. Each one earned a hiss past his lips with the occasional curse chucked into the air for measure. Moisture gathered where his hair met his skin and shone in the flickering candlelight

Small red flower patches blossomed so prettily when the wax dropped of his skin. Your lips followed the beautiful field to the buds on his chest. His desperate groan elicited at the grip of your teeth his hips couldn’t help but buck up into you.

“Levi…Fuck!” Finally allowing yourself to sink down onto him, exasperated pants omitted by both of you in solace.

“Please let me have you now, I need yooou” Your hands still at his chest, hips circling at a painful pace. Torturous eyes hand in hand with the unforgiving smirk beaming.

“But I love it when you’re so desperate, you’ll be begging me to stop when you’re too sensitive”

“How many times can you cum before you can’t take it anymore?” Levi had a damn near ridiculous refractory period, in addition to his extraordinary strength and healing speed. You loved it and saw it as a fun challenge to push it.

//

“Had enough? More?” You asked the writhing body under you, smirk still strong on your face. Moans choked in his throat. His stomach drizzled with himself, the rest of him you wiped away from around your lips. The veins in his neck jumping as he turned to you, his chest rising and falling in steadying moves. The unmistakeable moisture filled eyes, water gathering at the corners in frustrated droplets. His muscles quivering under your touch, so flooded with sensitivity.

“You” he whined, voice becoming dryer and crying with desperation with each passing breathe.

“Oh you think you can go one more with me?” You’d allowed yourself very little. Your walls were throbbing against nothing. The tension that had filled your muscles the tightly wound fibres needed an outlet.

The exhausted body beneath you moved with a sudden refilled confidence and stability knocking you back. Your hands locked behind his neck; you were half sat up and supported through his hand at your lower back. A fresh accelerated fire fight raging behind the dark orbs of his eyes, you’d pushed him, he’d had enough. Your cry had the hint of a giggle finally having him inside you, cheeky smile under your bit lip.

“Stop being a tortuous brat, ride me, make yourself cum around me or swear to god”

“Swear to god what?” you challenged clenching around him. His response; hissing with regret. Over-sensitivity pained in his features; brows knitted together as yours widened with your smile.

“Mmm” the pained hum melted right in your ear. Melted chocolate dripping of a soft pink marshmallow. Unwavering stable hand still solid supporting you. Your weight cradled into him, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Finally allowing your hips to spiral, unwinding all the patience you’ve exercised. Currents of heated heavy breaths washed across your chest. He ceased to challenge with any more words. Chest pushed against his; heat gathering in moist droplets between you.

You stole as many messy kisses in-between your moans and whines as you could; Levi had resorted to mostly grunts, his hips movements becoming staggered, each thrust becoming harder but seemingly more exhaustive. You shifted your weight forward. You’d felt his muscles begin to shake.  Levi was now on his back hair falling against the pillow as beautiful black spikes.

“God you feel so good” You whined rolling your hips. Hands planted cupped around his thighs, gripping hard nails leaving crescents in the muscled flesh. With your back arched, chest bare and vulnerable to the dragged out firm knead of Levi’s hands. His arms dropped to cradle your hips slowing them down.

“Too much for you baby?” You cooed sliding your hands to his chest, one creeping further to sit at his throat.

“Mmmhm…Don’t ……” He warned. You were never going heed his warning; you tightened your grip disobeying the pressure at your hips and rocking him freefalling off that cliff. His head rolled back harsh against the mattress. The intoxicating chimera of blissful pain bled into relief. Hearing the beautiful stuttering sounds and pants of Levi falling apart had you equally calling out his name with jaggged breaths.

//

You were gently coaxed out of sleep by floating plump kisses at your shoulders, a wandering breeze of his hand cloaking round your waist.

“Why does time go so fast” you mumbled, shifting onto your back. The cotton sheets were fresh against your exposed chest, cooled by the crisp air flowing in through the open window. High positive chirps from the birds living un-unbeknown to the burdens of the day ahead.

“Wait how come you’re not up and dressed and kicking me out of bed earlier than necessary?” The pleasant surprise had you smiling more sweetly than you’d like him to see and you felt more peace than you’d normally allow yourself.

The peace went to full blown serenity like a spring morning trickling stream when his lips half turned up followed by a soft chuckle oozing with acknowledgement.

“Jeez you moan when I up and leave and moan when I stay, am I ever going to get a break with you?” Levi huffed way to animatedly to suit him; he kicked off the sheets and went to lug himself out of the bed. You tugged him back towards you just off balance to get him on his back to secure your thighs at his hips.

“Do you honestly wanna break from this?”  Flicking your hair up in your grip allowing it to trickle loosely out of your hand. You fought his weight trying to push you off, which when he actually re-calibrated his balance he managed. One hand weakly holding your wrists together above your head. You were met with silence and a smirk worthy of the first ring of hell. He bounced off and slid his white shirt on. Neither of you spoke again until you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

“Annoyingly even when you act a brat I still can’t stay away. I’d would be weird without you now”

“Exactly”

Wait what?

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #LEVI ACKERMAN #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan smut #levi x reder #captain levi #instinct

[alwaysmychoices]

This is the embarrassingly long rant on my favourite passages attached with a few questions.

A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey 

Unspoken

Tonight, under the soft moonlight glow, Ethan didn’t look like the confident doctor she’d met in Edenbrook. Concern etched itself into his handsome features, and a lingering air of defeat and disappointment followed him like a cruel haunting.

For me, this passage is a trigger. Ethan definitely cares for Charlie and he would bulldoze the town looking for her when she’s drunk and alone in a bar. But he would refuse to act on his feelings when she’s sober. But the realisation that Raf or Bryce might think differently strikes him and sets into motion a series of incidents that culminate in the chapter "Blind Date". How strategic was Naveen's plan to bring up Bryce?

Goodbye

This was the last time he would have Charlotte Greene in his bed. He wouldn’t wake up again to her wild, blonde curls in his face...

...

“Stay the night,” he whispered. He couldn’t let her go now…

I love him.

The realization hit Charlie with enough force to knock her down. And then the tears came, and the desperation was complete.

Charlie Greene loved Ethan Ramsey, and she had already lost him.

...

She wouldn’t… he tried to calm himself as he moved back to the bedroom. She must have gotten dressed and gotten coffee or something. Surely, she would be back. She wouldn’t have gone without a goodbye, and this couldn’t end with a midnight dash out of his apartment. It was too meaningful. It deserved a proper send-off, a proper discussion.

But Ethan didn’t have to look for an answer for long.

...

He never left Charlie because she left him first.

To be very honest, this chapter did things to me that I was not prepared for. I had to take a break before I came back, reread it and wondered if I could accept it. It hurt me, it reminded me of incidents that I didn’t even know I still carried in my heart. The fact that Charlie, and not Ethan left first, jolted me into the realisation that unlike PB’s conclusion, you just don’t go back to being an attending and an intern after that. But now I believe, that was necessary. They had to grow as people. How difficult was the decision to make her leave on your part (especially when the canon provided an easier alternative)?

With and Without

Blind Date

Once his eyes landed on her, he couldn’t tear them away. He’d seen Charlie at varying states, some more vulnerable or confident than others. He knew her worst and best. She was never more beautiful than she was peacefully asleep on his bed, but surely, this came close.

But she wasn’t made up for him.

Could I assume that this chapter is the fulcrum on which the series rests? I think it is the culmination of the reactions elicited for the first time in Ethan in “Unspoken”.  Further, the story could have gone very differently at two points- firstly, when Ethan decided to join Baz and secondly, when Charlie decided to leave her date to take care of Ethan. Their choices, especially Charlie’s in the end, established that they were too far gone to return at this point.

Ethan shook his head, “She doesn’t want to be around me. I hurt her. I meant to hurt her. I want her to find better than me.” His voice wavered, thick with emotion.

“She misses you, too,” Charlie professed breathlessly, suddenly aware of every missing piece she’d been looking for with David.

She missed Ethan. She’d missed Ethan from the moment she lost him in the spring.

I cannot even begin to explain how beautifully sad this was!

Hangover Cure

Charlie was lounging comfortably on the couch, Jenner draped across her lap as she scrolled through menus on her smartphone. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun in stark contrast to the sleek, sophisticated dress that hugged her frame. Ethan realized, with a deep sigh of relief, that he was the one who got to see her like this, not the one who had touched her knee at the bar last night.

...

They neared the end of the season when Charlie’s eyes grew heavy, and Ethan watched her squirm out of the corner of his eye as she tried to stay awake. When Jenner joined them on the couch and cuddled into Charlie, any hope of evading a nap was lost.

I love domestic scenes of Ethan and MC. But what you did here is exceptional. I think you have turned Ethan’s apartment into this sanctuary, where they can be everything they want to. Primal, elemental, unbridled and honest.

“You’ve been wearing that dress since 8 pm last night. You deserve a change of clothes, Charlie,” Ethan was as he sat on the edge of the couch, massaging his temple as if giving little thought to the act.

...

Maybe that’s what made the gesture so startling.

...

It was ridiculous that she was so moved. She’d left David in the cold last night just to make sure Ethan was alright, and after dragging him home, she’d stayed with him as he stumbled and vomited. She’d waited all night, in fact. In contrast, he offered her a pair of sweatpants.

But there was a sense of familiarity and intimacy that she hadn’t expected.

She’d only worn his clothes after having sex with him. Now, she got to wear them just because he was worried about her comfort.  

I know you ease into angst right after that. That isn't fluff in its conventional sense. And you maintain that you generally don't write fluff. But those lines just warmed my heart in ways I cannot explain. How do you do this?

“I’m sorry you had to leave your date to take care of me,” Ethan may have hated that she was having a good time with someone else, but he did regret ruining it. He didn’t dare tell her why he’d been so reckless at the pub, but deep down, he suspected that she knew that it was his jealousy.

...

“I didn’t have to,” Charlie chuckled softly, much to Ethan’s surprise...

...

“I went because…” Charlie stopped herself before she could say something regrettable. He noted the abrupt stop and waited with bated breath before she explained, “I came to get you because I care about you, and I was worried. I wasn’t running from a bad date or forced to see you. I decided to go.”

I know from experience it’s the absolute opposite of easy to be in a relationship without label. This scene is them treading that path, without even knowing that they are already doing it. “They didn’t need to explain what they were doing or why they were there. They just let it happen.”

After Hours

I (literally) love every sentence in this chapter.

There was a profound, blissful moment of clarity where Charlie suddenly understood that this had been inevitable. This kiss – as surprising as it felt – had been coming on from the moment she picked him over David. It had been written in stone the second she made the decision to stay with him, and their bumbling attempts at friendship had been merely a stepping stone.

One more reason I felt “Blind Date” is the fulcrum of this entire series. I would love to know if you think differently. Do you think David had any remote chance for even a couple of dates?

“The ethical and professional dilemmas are not lost on me, but I want you more than I want to be right. We can’t be open about it with the people around us, but I want a relationship with you, Charlie.”

Finally we have the manifestation of the growth that has been taking place. A few months ago, he would have been apologetic, if not already buying his ticket to a different continent. It has been difficult, it has been messy, and yet he is finally there, which is what matters. 

His thumbprints marked her body and mind, and his constant presence in her mind morphed him into a fantastical beast – elusive and distant. She manipulated the image in her mind, painting him as a hero and a villain, but just before she could be convinced of either, the mirage slipped away to her barebone memories of tender smiles as he pulled her close and apologetic eyes as he distanced himself.

This was “chef’s kiss”. It was like something out of an Anna Karenina or a Wuthering Heights. Would love to hear your thoughts on this passage. 

Further, the scenes in the hospital, where Charlie constantly avoided Ethan, unfold before me as unending passages and hallways, almost like the long takes in some of my favourite movies. It added to the indecision in Charlie’s mind and the endless interlude in Ethan’s.

Ethan stood in a state of shock, all of the hopeful warmth replaced with the bone-chilling absence of it. He failed to comprehend the devastation he felt, running just as she did back into his head.

I knew it wasn’t the end. And I also knew it shattered my heart into a million pieces, just as when Charlie has left in “Goodbye”. However,  completely understand Charlie’s fears and vacillation.

Crying in the Rain

Loving Ethan was inescapable.

She’d fallen in love with him a million little times over hundreds of days, and despite her best attempts, she was always just a little more in love with him. He was an unreal figure in her world, so shrouded in her own folklore of him that every peak of him being a real, vulnerable human being only endeared him more to her.

...

The starry-eyed, ambitious student reading his textbooks couldn’t have imagined that, with every small choice she made in his favor, she would tie herself irrevocably to her hero.

This is so beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. It has the tone of an old world romance where the knight must inevitably have his heart broken by that ideal woman. Here we have a reversal in the trope.

“You are a risk. I’m terrified of getting hurt. When we ended last time, I was devastated. I cried for days and spent weeks trying to feel okay again, and that was after just one weekend,” Charlie’s words tumbled out of her mouth, rushed and eager. She felt like she needed to tell him everything, like unburdening herself and her insecurities was the only way forward, “I went on a date with someone and spent the rest of my night taking care of you just because I would rather be with a sick, drunk you than anyone else. I keep telling myself to stay away from you, but I always end up at your front door.”

...

“When I actually almost lost you, I was so devastated that I wasn’t afraid anymore,” Charlie confessed, “I understand if you changed your mind,” she added with a crack in her voice because, really, she didn’t understand.

I don’t think I have to even explain the inclusion of this in my list of favourite passages. As this scene unfolded, I was tense, euphoric, I was Ethan and Charlie at the same time. 

I really appreciate this chapter and the one before for how you have held your readers’ attention throughout. I gobbled them up first and then came back to savour them. And yet, never for once did I find them dreary.  I think these were your best in this series.

And I have one last question. Who do you relate with the most (Charlie or Ethan) when you speak of their fears and dilemmas? I mean, is it even possible to choose one?

No, no, no – it is absolutely not embarrassing. If anything, my excitement for getting this was embarrassing.

I’m going to be honest. You actually picked up narrative elements I hadn’t really paid attention to in the aggregate, so I had to think about them and really appreciate the work as a whole (which I rarely do when I’m writing chapter by chapter). I ended up rereading some chapters to refamiliarize myself and put myself back in that headspace, and that was super fun.

So, for your first question about “Unspoken,” Naveen certainly didn’t anticipate inadvertently starting an on-and-off again love affair, but he absolutely intended to rile Ethan up. Naveen is very observant, so when Ethan and Charlie were secretly treating him, he noticed a lot about the pair. In my mind, he was the first to think they were compatible and the first to realize their relationship had the potential to be meaningful and long-lasting.

When I wrote A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, I did not plan on writing With and Without. Towards the end, I had ideas, but the storyline was so jumbled that I wasn’t sure if I would take on such a long, ambitious project. Instead, I thought I would publish those individual ideas as their own work that formed a semi-series. So, while Ethan’s jealousy triggered his behavior in WaW, it wasn’t necessarily my intention.

However, Ethan realizing that Charlie had other romantic options sparked their relationship because Ethan suddenly realized that this thing he had with Charlie wasn’t safe. Up until that time, their relationship had limits almost entirely set by him, and it was well in his comfort zone. There were blips like Miami, but overall, Ethan controlled that part of him that wanted more of Charlie.

But really, their relationship didn’t make sense. They were too comfortable, too familiar, and frankly too connected for mere coworkers. They spent a lot of time behaving like they had a romantic relationship only to snap out of it and remember they were “platonic.” Unconsciously, they were committed to each other, and there was comfort in mutual pining. So, when Ethan realized that Charlie wasn’t on the same page as him and could replace their relationship with a real romantic partnership, things changed. The illusion that Charlie would remain stagnant with him shattered.

First, he had to acknowledge that he hated learning that Charlie had other suitors, and if he did that, he had to acknowledge that he hated them because he wanted to be them. That breaking of barriers allowed them to investigate their relationship and act on repressed feelings, which they’re still doing 24 chapters later.

 Now, for the ending of A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, I never really considered any other ending for several reasons. Firstly, I knew that the relationship had to end because, while Ethan had grown, he hadn’t grown to a point where he could accept a relationship with Charlie and work at Edenbrook. If Naveen hadn’t survived, I think they could have made it work. Ethan wouldn’t have gone back to work as quickly, and they would have had more time to figure out where they stood. But Ethan would have always gone back to work, and there would always be a strain because of that. At the end of A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, Charlie was not enough to stop him, and she knew that.

That brings me to my second reason which is that I just didn’t think they could have a casual ending. Don’t get me wrong, I love the angst of Book 1’s ending, but in canon, they had one night together knowing they had a time limit. It was a very different situation. In A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey, they were at the start of a relationship without an expiration date. They were romantic and hopeful, and then it was ripped away. And notably, it was ripped away by Ethan. Charlie couldn’t just blame fate because she watched Ethan make that decision.

Both characters were in pain, but they experienced it very differently. Ethan made the choice, and though he expressed self-hatred, he didn’t really consider staying. For him, their last night is bittersweet but necessary, and he asked Charlie to stay the night so that he could get closure and mark the significance of their relationship. But Charlie didn’t make this decision. She wanted to stay together. Exchanging awkward, sad goodbyes in the morning would have been extremely painful. They couldn’t both get what they wanted or needed from their breakup, and Charlie got to pick because she acted first. This was vaguely hinted to earlier in the series when Ethan promised her that he wouldn’t leave.

Ultimately, I think it’s the lack of closure that prompted the follow-up series. If they had mutually agreed to end things, Charlie wouldn’t have gone to him on the night of “Just Tonight.” There’s also a lot of unresolved pain and distrust because of that night, which Charlie and Ethan haven’t touched yet. Now that we know that Ethan’s mom left him at a very young age, there’s a new dynamic to Charlie leaving that I didn’t even consider at the time but hope to bring up later.

 100%, without “Blind Date,” the rest of the series could not have happened. Now that I’m writing it out, I see that Ethan only knows how to act when what he wants is threatened. “Drinking Games” established that Charlie and Ethan couldn’t go back to the relationship they had Pre-A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey. It only took one night as friends to put them back in danger. When Ethan decided to push Charlie away in “Midnight Call,” they had to live without each other again (which they both hated). Charlie doesn’t have Ethan’s skill for wallowing in longing and disappointment, so she had to do something.

David certainly had the potential for a handful dates – maybe more if she was determined enough. But no, he would never be comparable to Ethan. If Ethan ever found out, he would have been just as hurt as in “Blind Date,” but it still would have taken another catalyst to actually push him to Charlie. Truthfully, I think it would have happened. I think Charlie and Ethan were constantly escalating their behavior, and at some point, they would reach a point where they had to try again or had to sever ties.

Coming into this, I knew that there was a problem with the pattern of Charlie always trying for him and Ethan not being in a place where he could try, too. That wasn’t sustainable, and if they started another relationship in that state, an epic meltdown would follow. Ethan had to reach a point where he was capable of taking the risk, and a lot of that growth happened in “Blind Date” and “Hangover Cure.”

 I’m really happy you noticed that they’re so free and happy in Ethan’s apartment. Especially in the next few chapters, that will be even more prominent. Domestic/borderline fluff (because, if I try fluff, it just gets sad in the next paragraph) is so much fun to write, and I’m excited to touch on that more.

 Also, yes, I don’t even think I know how to explain Ethan and Charlie’s relationship. At that point, they were in a very messy, complicated and unlabeled relationship. Early on, Charlie’s friends warned her against pursuing Ethan again, and I would do the exact same thing. But there was no way Ethan or Charlie would ever stay away from each other permanently.

 For your last question, I relate to both, but if it had to be one, I would relate most to Charlie. She leans much more into the anxiety and complexities of her problems, which I do as well. She feels them very intensely whereas, to some extent, Ethan’s monologues are a bit more removed. Even when he’s making devastating decisions, he separates his duty from his emotions, and he decides which of the two to act on. He also has a penchant for blaming himself, which is something I’m trying to stop doing. Like Ethan, I have a tendency to remove myself from situations when I feel I’m going to make a mistake or am afraid of intimacy/rejection/etc. But most notably, they both keep those fears and dilemmas inside (I’m very guilty of doing that), and that’s what they have to change. When I’m writing Charlie, I like to use stream of consciousness and tap into anxiety. I pay much more attention to the physical/emotional reactions of a thought or action, but for Ethan, it’s more thoughtful and retrospective. Charlie’s reactions are the ones I have in the moment, but Ethan is who I am when I am mulling over something later or have to compartmentalize and function in a painful moment.  

 I love all the passages you picked out! I actually ended up putting one of them on my whiteboard above my desk because I remembered how much I liked it. A few times, I read them and genuinely thought, “I wrote that???” I’m sorry that this response is so long, but once I started, I couldn’t stop myself. I actually had a lot of fun doing this, and I think stopping to appreciate the work in its entirety helps me plan for its future. If you have any other questions or anything, feel free to reach out again!