#the concept of finality! of living and moving on and loving and grieving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollsuguru · 3 months

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Hello! You can totally ignore if this isn’t up your alley but you could write something about suguru watching reader from afar while they grieve him for leaving? Either it’s super sad or twisted cause he feels happy that you love him enough to grieve him

I also could send in nsfw requests if you want those too

“the choiceless grief that drove him underground.”

contents: f!reader, mentions of guilt, stalking, & mass murder. both characters express grief in different ways. bit of callous/twisted suguru, a nod to his dacryphilia as well. mainly angsty but i guess at the core of it… it’s sweet? w.c: ~ 1.4k

a/n: rem, i owe you my life & then some! :’) thank you SO much for the concept idea! <3 i love delving into the twisted/not-so pretty parts of suguru so i hope you enjoy! :D

the premise of the situation is quite… haunting.

to mourn a friend, (‘a lover’ — his voice gently admonishes from the back of your mind), who isn’t dead.

he still roams around the aether — akin to a ghost. and here you are, grieving a corporeal phantom of your past.

both you and suguru have a penchant for nostalgia, him moreso than you. it’s why he’s here now at the foothills of mount mushiro, camouflaging himself into the shadows of the night, depleting his own cursed energy so there’s not a single trace of him left. he stands there in a vantage point hidden behind massive japanese oak trees, a lonely specter peering wistfully at his dearly beloved.

ex-beloved, rather, he should say.

it was of his own volition anyways.

your lack of cursed energy leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he remembers why he despises you so. the healed x-shaped scar on his chest burns and he wants to give you a matching one on your heart, as a reminder. you’re worse than a curse, he forces himself to seethe. heavenly restriction, huh? nothing heavenly about you…

a sick part of suguru wants to finally see you shatter — to watch someone as powerful as you break down and wail with such unbridled anguish, to hear your sorrowful screams pierce through the night sky like a gunshot wound to the head. something about imagining the way your tears would stick to your lashes makes his heart beat unbearably fast from within his ribcage. from sadness or intrigue, he doesn’t quite know…

he just selfishly craves to be the cause of it. to have you drown in tears of melancholy & be sundered by it like a tsunami of eerie desolation — to be plagued with devotion and corruption. just like him.

he wants you to get on your hands and knees and prostrate yourself to him — to lower yourself at his feet.

beneath him.

where you should be.

to apologize for being you. to apologize for coming into his life. to apologize for making him fall in love. to apologize for being his greatest curse. his greatest regret.

(regret for loving you or regret for leaving you… he’s not sure, yet. he’ll decide when he’s of more sound mind.)

yet all he gets is… just you… sitting there. expressionless.

suguru huffs quietly, his low-lidded gaze is heavy with fatigue and slight boredom. his soft exhales turn into smoky vapor in front of him, evaporating within seconds. he tediously redirects his amber irises back at you, observing you like a science experiment, scrutinizing your every move… only if you had done something, of course.

he notes that your stony face betrays no emotions, your body is rigid as if in living rigor-mortis. he surmises that the only thing that differentiates you from the zen statues around you is the gentle wisps of your hair across your face courtesy of the cold wind, crisp due to the night air.

before he realizes it, suguru’s fingers involuntarily twitch.

muscle memory.

(the same fingers have brushed against the plush of your cheek, caressed your hair & gently moved the strands away from your face. soft finger-pads outlined your lips gently, the shape of your cupid’s bow committed to memory. suguru figured the name was quite apt… he found himself wholly enraptured & in love.

hit by eros’ arrow the very moment he laid eyes on you — his lighthouse. his demise.)

a slight sniffle breaks suguru out of his reverie. he snaps his head back up at you, pierced brows furrowed and bright ochre eyes wide. he ignores the pang in his chest, his shock overtaking his senses leaving him paralyzed.

are you…?

your reddened eyes flit towards the foliage where suguru hides behind, and you softly rasp out a tired sigh. your lack of words are far more frigid than the midnight air, causing an ice cold shiver to run through suguru’s spine.

forcing the constriction in his throat back down, he exhales shakily, in a state of utter shock.

right.

heightened senses. superhuman physical capabilities. you always knew where suguru was before he ever knew where you were. a relationship of mutual indulgence — you pretend you don’t see him, and he pretends that you don’t know where he is at all times. as if you haven’t memorized his scent, his mannerisms, his soul. as if you couldn’t recognize him through physical vibrations alone.

just pretend you don’t see me now… indulge me one last time… please.

muscle memory.

you look away.

you focus your gaze towards the skyline of bountiful forest green trees, impeccable eyesight zeroing in on a tree with a heart carved around both his and your initials upon the espresso bark. the same tree where you had rested your head on suguru’s lap while he read his favorite books to you. the same tree where you had both shared your first kiss. the same tree where you had found out from a dear friend that suguru had murdered a whole village — some bullshit about him wanting to create a world with no curses. no non-sorcerers. no you.

you once playfully joked to suguru that you loved him more than he loved you. you remember the way his fists clenched at his sides, the furrow in his brow coupled with the immediate narrowing of his eyes, along with the slight snarl in his lip and voice pierced your soul as he resolutely scolded you — no one could ever love as deeply, as passionately, as genuinely as he loves you.

loved, rather, you should say.

what a fuckin’ liar.

…

in a blink of an eye, you disappear.

like a ghost.

you leave suguru alone to his own futile devices. he figures it’s fair, to indulge you one last time too, allowing you the ‘last laugh’, though he knows there’s no victors in this sick game that’s being played. he’s walked away from you before, it’s only fitting you do the same to him now.

his feet drag him to where you were hunched over before, his brain unable to catch up to what his body is doing. something glints in the moonlight, there in your stead, atop the plush green grass.

he crouches down, picking up the small photograph. the faded polaroid feels far heavier in his hand than he would think. a delicious shiver runs down suguru’s spine when he realizes his fingertips are touching where yours have touched. the bitterness that found its way in his mouth in the beginning washes away, leaving only a sickly sweet flavor that surrounds his mouth like pillowy cotton candy.

it’s one he hasn’t seen. you must’ve kept this with you all this time, he muses.

a photo, a candid, of him.

the pink sakura petals offered up a beautiful backdrop after a mission you two took in kyoto. back then, his smile was genuine & unbelievably wide — pearly whites on display, his pierced cherry red lips matched the camellia red blush that painted his cheeks — no doubt from your flirtatious comments about his beauty. his eyes were squinted, a photo you took of him while mid-laugh. he pushed his bangs aside while speaking to you, wanting to give you his full attention. the promise ring on his finger glinted in the sunlight along with the silver hairpin you gifted him moments before you took the photo, its amethyst gem dangling above his bun. a beacon of light.

a sign of devotion, of unending love. a promise.

suguru’s heart feels a bit heavier than he would like it to, yet the soft smile that graces his features is the most genuine form of adoration he’s exhibited since his defection. inundated with grief, you still held on to him.

an anchor of your past. a plague of your present. a welcoming calamity of your future.

��you still love me too, huh?” he softly whispers into the night, a sad smile on his face.

he gazes up at the moon. it looks quite beautiful tonight. he silently hopes you’re staring at it too.

thinking of him the same way he’s thinking of you.

#geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #if it’s in a jjk au TRUST my readers will ALWAYS have heavenly restriction… it’s just so delicious coupled w suguru’s character arc #my writings #personal

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muddyorbsblr · 7 months

Text

all will be alright in time [rtc what if…?]

'relinquish the crown' masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: Loki makes a realization about his role of keeping watch over the timelines when a branch slips from his grasp | sequel to 'bigger than the whole sky'

Pairing: Loki (God of Stories/Time) x Reader

Word Count: 6k [pls prep some drinkies & snacks before going in]

Warnings: 18+ | angst with a happy ending; some steamy moments at the end; this is the RTC universe so…themes of incest if you squint (he's adopted but still…); Loki S2 finale spoilers [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: no prior reading of RTC is required but reading 'bigger than the whole sky' is kind of required…

Dick-tionary: steamy moments (but no outright smut) starts at "We'll need it, my love." and ends at "Happy anniversary, my love"

Time moved differently from where Loki sat, in his throne beyond space and time. It was as if he was simultaneously between two ticks of the clock and experiencing every moment to ever happen in every multiversal timeline all at once. He wouldn't be able to tell if two seconds or two millennia had passed since he bid you farewell.

All he knew was the routine he established. The one that functioned as his own form of a personal clock.

First he would choose one of the timelines at random, monitoring for any threats that could potentially be beyond the capabilities of that world's defenders. More often than not an iteration of Thor would be among that group, so he would check on the blond oaf as well.

In the timelines where his brother mourned him, he would send a snake or a black cat his way. The god's way to send a message. I miss you, too, Brother.

Then he would check on you within that timeline. He found that in a few of those lives you were not in league with his brother, but rather one of the innocents, living your life in a constant state of elevated awareness, anxiously waiting for the next invasion and preparing accordingly. In those lives, you found love with an echo of him. A hotel night manager. A decommissioned military tracker. Even a prince in some timelines. And in a few occasions, an actor.

After that he would check on your timeline. His final stop on his personal clock. Every time a slight anxiety would wash over him, wondering what he would find when he saw you this time.

The first few moons worth of visits he found you in bed, curled into a ball and clutching his pillow. You'd cried yourself to sleep, the disquiet showing on your features even in your slumbering state. You grieved long past what was customary in Asgard, seemingly returning to your wardrobe set in onyx fabric when in truth if one looked close enough it was truly set in the deepest emerald.

Grieving for the living. What a peculiar concept that ruled both your lives.

It was only after a year that you'd begun to re-integrate yourself into Asgard's society, most of your steps fumbling and truly only powering through with the support and occasional aid of your family, mainly Sif and Frigga. You'd made amends with Thor and Odin, apologizing for your behavior while you were under the effects of the spell that locked away your memories, telling them what you could of yours and Loki's story when you became ready.

Lately you'd been working on restructuring some lessons within the school curriculum, assuring that the information was kept up to date and refining where necessary. It gave the god a semblance of peace knowing that there was something that could finally occupy your mind that somewhat gave you some form of satisfaction.

With every cycle he checked on you the longest. Stayed with you until you were fast asleep.

After two years you visited Midgard, blending among the denizens of a town that still reverently worshipped the gods of Asgard and stayed with Loki's altar for a fortnight. You spoke with him as if he was right there in the sanctuary standing beside you, your hand still instinctively twitching to reach for his even after all the time that had passed.

Your last day on Midgard you placed an offering at the altar. Loki could have sworn his heart stopped beating for a good few moments once he caught sight of the gold wedding band laying atop the offering plate. "Husband, I know not if you can see or hear me, but I wanted you to have this. It's a Midgardian tradition, I know, but it's one that I was always quite fond of. To wear something on ourselves that could serve as a symbol of our love. Our fealty to one another. Had I not been under the spell's influence during our wedding I would have chosen to include this in our ceremony. This is the closest I will ever get to giving this to you, but I wanted you to have it regardless."

You placed your hands onto the altar, the god's air catching at the back of his throat and tears welling up in his eyes once he saw the matching gold band around your finger.

"I love you and I miss you desperately and always, my darling husband." You pressed your lips to the black and gold marble altar before walking away, keeping your head down to shield your tears.

It was possible that you'd assumed that the ring, similar to all other offerings on his and the neighboring altars, would either be swiped by a nameless faceless passerby or cleared away throughout the periodic tidying of the sanctuary. That it wouldn't even have crossed your mind that the moment that no eyes were on his altar, he'd conjured the ring over to him, and it was now worn on his finger for him to look upon fondly as he checked on you, pressing his lips to the gold band once you'd tucked yourself into bed for the night, hoping that somehow you would feel the message he was sending you through space and time.

Goodnight, little Princess. I shall see you again tomorrow.

In the years that had passed, you continued to work on various texts, constantly revising on parchments and going back and forth in the library you held in your chambers, still so careful not to disturb Loki's side of the shelves that housed his journals and textbooks. The work had kept your mind occupied, and the people that surrounded you offered pleasant enough company that from an outsider's perspective, you seemed almost as lively as you once were.

They couldn't see that your smile never reached your eyes. They never heard the clipped quality of your laughter or how you would cut it short, the slight wince in your features as if you were admonishing yourself for granting yourself the permission to laugh. And the way that you would start playing with your wedding band straight after.

When he checked on you during what would have been the tenth anniversary of your wedding day, he found you once again curled up in your bed, shaking and screaming into a pillow as sobs wracked your body.

He couldn't help himself. He reached out to you, a breeze blowing through and ruffling your hair in a gentle caress despite all the closed windows and doors in your chambers. You immediately stilled your movements afterward, clutching your pillow tighter against yourself.

"I'm sorry, husband," you spoke into the quiet. "It hurts monumentally worse today."

For the first time in what felt like eons, he was unable to fight the urge of his hand twitching and reaching for yours. And his heart dropped as he felt a branch slip from his grasp.

"No," he hissed in a panic, already moving away from his throne to start chasing after it before the light inside of it began to fade and the branch would die.

Only it didn't. The green glow emanating from the branch remained as vibrant as it was when it was within Loki's grasp. It didn't even move too far away that he'd been able to return it to his hand after a few strides, as if nothing had happened.

"What--"

"I need to be honest, God of Time," a voice spoke from the void. "I was hoping you'd come to this realization a bit sooner."

"Who's out there?!" he yelled out, already conjuring duplicates of himself to be at the ready in case he would need to fight. "Show yourself, intruder."

First a pair of white glowing orbs materialized a mere few feet from where you once were the day that Loki last saw you. And then a body that resembled that of monks on Midgard, in robes that vaguely resembled the ones that he also wore, only set in different colors.

"There is no need to be alarmed, son of Odin. I pose no threat to you. I am the Watcher. I monitor all events within the multiverse, and I have been keeping an eye on how you have been adjusting to your new responsibility as the savior of the timelines."

"How did you get here?" He hadn't done away with his duplicates yet. Each of them were still poised to attack if this Watcher was lying and threatened the safety of the timelines. Any timeline.

"I was made aware of another set of eyes watching over the multiverse once you ascended your throne," the Watcher explained. "This plane is unreachable to most beings within these universes that we watch over, that is true. I am here and I can reach you because I live in the same plane. Think of it as a different room within a house."

"What realization did you speak of earlier?" He made the decision to move the topic along, his question about the branch not dying despite slipping from his fingers truly being the most pressing matter.

"You created a tree," the Watcher answered simply. "In its infancy, like any living thing, it requires a great amount of care. Do you agree?"

Why was this person speaking to him as if he were a child? "Yes, of course, but this doesn't explain what--"

"After it has been given enough time and care, however," he continued, not allowing the god to finish his sentence. "Would you also agree that it would not require as close of a supervision? Once a tree has grown to a certain size, on Earth or Asgard or any other realm, it requires less frequent tending to. It draws most of its energy, its nutrients, its life…from its foundation. The roots have become strong enough to support the rest of the tree, for the most part."

"I…I believe I'm beginning to see your point."

"You've created a tree," he repeated. "And its roots have taken form. They have strengthened. Now I know quite well how you are when spoonfed your answers, so I will leave the rest of this lesson for you to discover on your own. Be well, God of Time."

With that, the Watcher disappeared, once again leaving Loki on his lonesome. The lesson still not fully learned and due a good deal of experimentation.

He started with one branch in each hand, letting them slip from his grasp and observing how they behaved. When there was no visible change and he'd realized that he couldn't feel any loss of life within those two branches, he released another pair. And another. And another.

Suddenly the lesson became crystal clear. He need not keep such vigilant watch on the timelines any longer. Much like a tree, it can be left to grow and flourish on its own, needing only the occasional visit to fortify and further nourish its foundation.

He could step down from this throne removed from time and space. He could end his isolation.

He could come home. To you.

It took a good long while, it could have been minutes or it could have been years, seeing as he constantly reinforced each branch with enough of his magic before setting them free. But finally his hands were empty, and the cape that had refashioned itself to hold more timelines roamed free as well.

He took a few moments to re-familiarize himself with his range of motion, bending and stretching in various positions to ensure that there were no sore points in his body. After that, it didn't take him long to decide on his next course of action.

Before he opened up a portal to his destination, he reinforced the foundation of the tree one last time, hopefully putting enough of a buffer that it would be a good long while before he would need to return.

Hopefully when he did, he would not be walking through the portal alone.

Once he was satisfied with the tree's reinforcements, and he could see that each branch was still existing safely and peacefully in its own place within the multiverse, he conjured a portal. Leading to the familiar corridors of Asgard's palace.

He'd forgotten what it felt like to have the sun on his face, to hear the footsteps of Asgard's people echoing throughout the halls. The sudden onslaught to his senses nearly disoriented him, but he persisted, striding down the hall and barely noticing how the people he passed began to look upon him and whisper words along the lines of Is that him? He's returned? Must we alert someone?

Soon enough he'd arrived at the doors to your chambers, nearly stumbling on his own feet because he couldn't move through the doors fast enough. "Y/N?" he called out, hoping that perhaps he'd arrived at an early enough hour of the day that you were still inside, preparing yourself for your duties ahead.

When enough time had passed with no answer, he accepted that he would have to embark on a search throughout the palace to find you.

"Before I have the guards take you, I expect you to explain yourself," a familiar aged voice pierced the silence of the room. "Who are you and why are you in the princess' marital cham--Loki?"

He turned and he was face to face with Odin, pure shock and a mixture of other expressions he'd never seen on the Allfather coloring his face. His mouth hung open, as if unable to find any words for what he was seeing.

"Hello, Father," Loki began, not entirely sure of what he could say after all the time that had passed. Before he could try and find any words, however, the Allfather's next action stunned him to complete silence.

He bent the knee, bowing his head to the ground.

"Come now, Father, this truly is unnecessary, there were times I've been gone for much longer," he attempted to joke, the tone coming out unnaturally, seeing as it had been eons since he'd actually spoken to anyone other than the Watcher.

Of course a tiny part of him relished in this moment, however. The Allfather bowed to no one. At least he thought…

"Y/N has kept us apprised of what you'd done, my son," he spoke, rising to his feet. "Of what you'd sacrificed to not only save the Nine Realms, but beyond our time, beyond our universe. She has worked tirelessly to ensure that all realms within her reach know the tale of your heroism. That they know you for who you truly are."

Odin motioned for him to look upon the parchments on your desk, illustrations depicting what you'd called "The Heart of Yggdrasil" on a handful of them.

"Children on Asgard and Midgard, and all realms in between, ask her what you are the god of now," Odin began to explain. "She tells them all that you are more than a god now. That you are the best of us. For those who cannot grasp such a large concept she named you the Keeper of Time. For the rest she named you the Savior of the Multiverse."

Loki found it near impossible to breathe trying to process the information, trying to understand that all this time the parchments that you'd been working on had been to tell one specific story. His story.

"She makes me seem some sort of hero," he said in awe.

"From the tales she has told, it is very much deserved." The Allfather clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving a squeeze as if making sure that he was truly there. "I'm proud of you, my son. We should have a ceremony to celebrate your return, and to anoint you your new titles. You have been greatly missed, by your family, by the people, but by no one more than Y/N."

There were no words he could muster to respond adequately other than, "Where is she? Where can I find my wife?"

Odin righted his stance, motioning toward the door. "I suggest trying the training fields. Thor does his best to keep her occupied so her mind won't wander too far. I suspect he will make more of an effort today considering--"

"Today marks a decade since our wedding," Loki finished, his heart constricting at the thought of you struggling to not even think of today, to keep yourself distracted until the last possible moment that you would have to be alone in your chambers, once again sobbing like he had seen you this morning. He began to step toward the corridor. "Thank you, Father."

Do not worry, my darling Y/N. You need not shed any more tears over our separation. Once I find you and have you in my embrace I will never let you go again.

When he made his way to the training gardens he was once again met with a pang of disappointment to find nobody there. Your sparring session with Thor must have reached its conclusion.

Still he attempted to call out to you. "Y/N? Little Princess?"

Again you did not answer, but Loki was met with another familiar voice. "Brother?"

He turned toward the direction of the voice, greeting Thor with a tentative smile, once again trying his hand at his former playful, mischievous tone. "Hello, Brother. Did you miss me?"

Once the blond god had made his way over he only responded by clapping both hands on his shoulders. "Y/N told us of your fate. How is this possible?"

"When last I saw her she stubbornly told me that there had to be another way," he explained, words getting caught in the lump in his throat. "I should have listened to my wife."

"She has been completely beside herself today," Thor offered, looking away the second his eyes began to fill with tears. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "It is agonizing seeing her like this, especially after she'd been doing so well the last few years. But today…today has taken its toll on her. More than she would ever admit, at least to me." He gave his brother's shoulders a light squeeze, not too dissimilar from how their father did a few moments ago. "Your return is the best possible gift you can give her today. Welcome back, Brother."

"Where can I find her?" Loki's tone had grown a touch desperate, his desire to find you and finally hold you again physically making his muscles ache. "Father told me to look here…"

"The armory," his brother finally answered. "She told me she would be there checking on the quality of the wooden swords for the young soldiers in training and that she wishes to be left alone, but I think she would be more than happy to make an exception for you."

He broke into a run, haphazardly thanking his brother before letting his feet carry him to the armory as fast as they could manage. The sound of your voice softly singing a familiar tune that brought him back to the days leading up to the festival for the Autumnal Equinox mere months before you two had become betrothed.

How shamefully oblivious he was back then to the fact that you'd been singing this while thinking of him. So consumed in his own efforts to hide away his affection for fear that you would find him so abominable that he had been unable to see that you had been doing exactly the same.

When he finally looked through the open door of the armory, it was as if he'd forgotten how to breathe, seeing how the light from the window hit your features just so that you seemed an angel. A forlorn angel with puffy eyes and a crease between your brows as you willed yourself to keep focused on the task at hand.

My darling wife.

"No weapons for you today, dear Daughter," your father declared before plucking away your dagger from your hand and placing it down on a nearby bench. "Your mind is far too pre-occupied I cannot in good conscience allow you to spar with anything that could harm either of us."

Instead of sparring as you normally did, him with varying weapons while you stayed your course with your daggers, he tested your defenses. You knew quite well why he'd chosen to spar like this today. It was to keep your mind reactive, your reflexes sharp, and dissuade your mind from thinking of much else in the process.

But ultimately after a few rounds of him too easily breaking through your defenses of crossed arms weakly attempting to push back, he stopped. "Daughter, are you sure you wish to train today? I truly would understand if you wish to--"

"To what, Father?" you interjected, a slight sneer pulling at your upper lip. "To stay in the kitchens and gorge myself with every little cake and pastry I lay my sights on? To see how many pitchers of wine I could consume before I stumble into my chambers and fall asleep?"

"Y/N I simply meant--"

"Look, Father, I'm already sad. On any given day. There is nothing to gain in changing my routine today in a way that would make me any sadder. Today is simply another day, much like the day before and the day after." Your voice choked on your own words, as if your white lies were so potent your own body was recoiling against it. "I will be alright."

Those words tasted the most bitter on your tongue. No, you wouldn't be alright. You hadn't been alright for quite some time.

The sound of Halley's steps bounding toward where you and your father were standing did not alleviate your souring mood any. "Princess! Princess ohh have you heard--"

"Shall I take a guess, my friend?" She excitedly nodded her head telling you to continue. "Fandral and Narda have returned from their betrothal ceremonies across the Realms and they've revealed that they eloped. Probably in Vanaheim. Or even Alfheim."

Her smile dropped, concern coloring her features. "Y/N do you truly not know who has returned to us?"

You shook your head stubbornly. "Halley, much as I am elated for our friend I cannot bring myself to smile and put today out of my mind. Please, do go and send my congratulations to both of them when you see them later in the day but…I'm afraid that I will simply be poor company to keep today."

The words were near impossible to utter through the lump in your throat, a slight hiccup escaping you and making you step away from both of them.

"Princess, if you would please--"

"I will be in the armory," you spoke dismissively. "Ensuring that the wooden swords are still safe to be used. I would appreciate it if I were to be left alone for the remainder of the day."

Thor knew there were no words that could bring you comfort this day in particular, so all he could do was respect your wishes. "I shall have the staff bring your dinner to the armory then."

You gave both him and Halley a single nod before you strode down the corridors toward the armory, sloppily wiping at the fat tears rolling down your cheeks with the sleeve of your dress. Normally you were able to put up a brave enough front so that your friends and family would not have to be so concerned for your well-being, but today…today was nearly impossible to maintain that facade.

Too many thoughts plagued you today of how your hours could have been spent celebrating with your husband; you felt as if the sun was cruel to pull you from those blissful dreams where Loki was by your side and you got to celebrate a decade together like you were meant to. The dreams had felt so real, much like the first times you'd dreamt of your beloved when salacious images overtook your subconscious. So real that when you were ripped from them you couldn't hold back the tears that wracked your body.

And things were only made worse when you felt the breeze in your chambers. The windows were closed, and as were the doors. There should be no wind coming in to your bed chambers, and by that logic you knew exactly what had caused the anomaly.

And guilt overcame you knowing that you'd given your husband enough cause for concern crying in bed the way you were so early in the day that he reached out. The gentle caresses of the breeze that should not be possible ruffling your hair as if trying to tuck it behind your ear the way he used to.

He had enough on his mind keeping watch of all the timelines, he should not be burdened further by witnessing your grieving.

You hadn't felt him at all since that exchange, and for the most part you were grateful for it. The memory of his words the last time you saw each other worsened your guilt. I can't hold you. I couldn't watch you break like this and do nothing.

Perhaps it was better that he look away.

You made your way to the rack that held the wooden swords, lightly running a finger across the dulled blades and immediately finding a dented spot that formed a sharp corner. "That won't do…" you muttered, pulling up a stool and grabbing some sanding paper from a nearby drawer to start filing away and dull the weapon once more.

Absentmindedly you'd begun to start humming an old tune you once sang in the music room, back then trying to express your frustration over finding yourself falling in love with Loki.

I'd let you ruin the rest of my life

How was it that somehow the words rang truer now that you were his wife compared to back then when you were still in the midst of falling?

The sound of another humming along to the tune had you sitting up with your back ramrod straight and alert. "I said I wished to be alone why is everyone so insistent on--" You turned around to berate the unwelcome visitor, only for your words to die off in a rather unbecoming sound in the back of your throat as you saw the figure at the door.

"Hello, little Princess."

"Oh Norns, this is it," you muttered to yourself. "I've finally lost my grip on reality. Hallucinating my husband in the middle of the day and I haven't even had a single sip of wine." You promptly put away the wooden sword and disposed of the sanding paper. "Perhaps I'd inhaled too much of the wood dust and now it's having a bizarre effect on me--"

Your words were cut short feeling a hand curve around your waist, a body walking up behind you and pressing against your back. "I promise you, my love, this is no hallucination…" The air around you became near impossible to breathe as his arm wrapped around your waist, working his free hand up to put your hair over your shoulder and expose the back of your neck.

"Why does this feel so real?" you questioned breathily when your illusion had pressed his lips to the back of your neck, kissing a path to your ear, your voice thinning to the point you could barely utter the words. "Is this Valhalla?"

"No, my darling," he mumbled against your hear, his exhale warming your skin. He turned you around in his arms, placing your hands over his shoulders. "I truly am here. With you."

Tears began to blur your eyes as you tentatively touched your hand to his hair, the air leaving your lungs once he turned his head to kiss a trail from your palm to the inside of your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shook your head at him, refusing to accept what was right in front of you. "Loki I said no more illusions, don't do this to me," you pleaded, already starting to step back from him.

He had his arms around you, pulling you back into his embrace the second you moved even a fraction of an inch away from him. "This is no illusion, little Princess, I swear to you." He brought your hands back up to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

Before you could utter a word in question, he grabbed the back of your neck and captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his other arm wrapping around you to lift you off the ground and set you down on the now empty wooden desk. You whimpered against him when his hands began to roam your body, grasping frantically at whatever was within his reach to press you harder against him.

You felt the sting of hot tears behind your eyes as you held on to him just as tight, feeling the skin straining and stretching over your knuckles with how hard you grasped at his back. If this was real, you would not allow him to slip from your fingers so easily.

Not like last time.

This time when you pulled away he was still there. You both were. "How is this possible?" you breathed out, your stubborn mind finally beginning to relent and accept that perhaps he truly was here, that this was no illusion cast by your husband to calm you some on what should be such an auspicious day for both of you. You rested your head on his shoulder, tears once again starting to fall down your cheeks. "How are you here?"

"I was wrong, little Princess. There was another way. It took a good deal of time for the solution to be plausible, but I finally found another way."

Neither of you moved from your spot, him stroking your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head whenever you sniffled, as he told you about how he'd seen you in your state just this morning and how the branch slipped from his hold. About the other being on that plane of existence called The Watcher leading him to the discovery that a strong enough foundation had finally been built. That now it would only need the occasional visit from him to ensure that its foundation was continually strengthened.

And finally about how the first thing he thought of once he was fully freed from the branches of the timelines was coming home and finding you.

You sat quiet for a good few moments, allowing his words to sink in before you spoke again. "Does this mean…you're staying?" you managed to choke out before a fresh wave of tears begun to fall from your eyes.

"Yes, my love," he whispered into your hair, pressing a tender kiss to the same spot before tilting your head to look up at him, wiping your tears away. "I'm home."

He pressed his lips to yours once more, smiling against your lips when you threw your arms around his neck. He tightened his hold on you, breathing out a slight chuckle when you yelped at the feeling of the table disappearing from under you. When you opened your eyes, you were suddenly in your bed chambers, your husband carrying you across the room in his arms.

"That's…new…" you mumbled against his lips when he kissed you again.

"Eons have passed for me since last we saw each other in our chambers, my darling wife," he whispered into your skin, placing a soft lingering kiss below your ear before laying you down on the bed, your back settling into the soft mattress. "And yet through all that time my body, my heart, only ever craved to have you with me again."

Your heart felt as if it could burst at any moment. After all the time that had passed, it felt completely foreign to you, finally feeling as if you were no longer simply dragging yourself through life. There was no longer a void in your life in the shape of your beloved.

The visions of what your new future could hold now that he had returned overwhelmed you, rendering you unable to do much of anything other than pull him down to you so you could kiss him again, sighing into his mouth when he pressed his weight onto the bed and proceeded to deepen your kiss.

"In that time, little Princess, let's just say my abilities have…evolved. And in mastering them all, I've often thought about how I might use those abilities in this very room. Once we'd reunited and your memories have all been freed."

A small gasp escaped you as you watched a wave of his magic washed over the entirety of your chambers, a slight barrier appearing by the windows and doors before visibly fading into nothing. "Silencing enchantment?" you queried, unable to help the smile that stretched across your face.

"We'll need it, my love." With a small twitch of his fingers, both his robes and your dress dissolved into nothing, baring your bodies to each other. "Oh how I've missed this," he rasped, a thrill shooting through you as you watched him rake his eyes across your body before licking his lips. "How I've missed you."

"Husband," you whined, squirming under his gaze, the undeniable affection and desire shining in his eyes stealing all the breath from your lungs. "I've missed you."

Loki leaned down to hover over you, lips tracing along the bridge of your nose before proceeding to press featherlight kisses all over your face, letting out a shuddering groan when skin met skin, your chests pressed together as you trailed your fingertips down the length of his arm. Once you reached his hand, lacing your fingers between his, tears began to well in your eyes again as the gold band around his ring caught the light.

"You got the ring," you said in wonder, your breath coming out like a bewildered chuckle as he brought your hand up to his mouth to kiss along the backs of your fingers.

"Of course I did. For so long it was the only thing that brought me a sense of comfort, every time I looked upon it, it was almost as if I could feel you with me." He released your hand, leaning back down to capture your lips in a slow, languorous kiss. "And now I finally do."

You moaned against his lips as his hand wrapped around your knee, hooking your leg around him as he proceeded to roll his hips into yours.

"I know we should probably announce my return," he said in a teasing tone. "But I haven't even the slightest urge at the moment to do anything other than…reunite with my darling wife." He smirked against your lips as you whimpered desperately at the feel of him lining himself up at your entrance. "The only thing I plan on keeping for the foreseeable future is the love of my life, on our marital bed. Any and all forms of clothing forbidden."

"I have no objections to that," you said back breathlessly. "Happy anniversary, husband."

"Happy anniversary, my love."

One day, centuries after your reunion, Loki helped you into a set of robes that seemed more suitable for lounging than anything else before conjuring up a portal that led back to the tree. He would have to be there for a while, tending to the branching timelines and ensuring that they would all stand on their own for a good long while after he would once again leave them to grow and flourish on their own.

"I want you to come with me, darling. We could make an adventure of it."

He didn't need to ask twice. You would go to the ends of the world with him.

He held your hand firmly in his as he led you through the portal toward the solitary throne he once occupied, giving you a soft smile as you discovered the changes he made to the space before he went home to you all those years ago.

There were now two thrones at the heart of the tree.

A/N: I had to make it better I couldn't just leave my precious blorbos in pain even if this is an alternate universe 🥺🥺 And I just had to add that little bit of Odin bending the knee as a treat 🫡

Here's the song that gave me most of the vibe for this story:

And here's the song that Y/N was singing in the armory:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #loki angst #loki laufeyson angst #muddyorbs writes #Spotify

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minniethemoocherda · 11 days

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Can I Lay By Your Side?

Summary: In the aftermath of Sinister's attack, Morph struggles to get to sleep, so Logan keeps them company by watching a movie.

A/N: This fic can be read as a sequel to my other Morpherine fic "Loving You is a Losing game" but also works as a stand alone. Also cannot believe I have written two Morpherine fics in two days??? I am going insane right now!! Can't promise that any more fics about these two will be as consistent! Xxxxxx

Ao3

FF.net

Morph sat glued to the living room sofa, unable to make themselves move, terrified to go to bed to face the onslaught of nightmares waiting for them.

Mr Sinister's attack had been an ordeal for all the X-men, especially for the two Jeans and Scott who now had to grieve the loss of their son to the future. Morph's problems felt ridiculous in comparison. Sinister hadn't even controlled them again, not if you counted making Jean do it for him. There wasn't really anything for them to be upset about.

Yet every time they closed their eyes, they could feel the tendrils of Sinister's claws inside them. Morph scratched their arms, skin turning to gloop under their fingernails, digging for the mind control chips they swore they could still feel buried there.

"Pick one."

Logan slammed a box down on the coffee table in front of them, startling their edges back to a solid form.

"Huh?" Morph stammered, having not even heard their friend come in.

"We're watching a movie." Logan stated, pointing at the box.

Morph peeked over the edge to see a pile of rom-coms, their favourite genre.

"Unless you'd rather... talk... about it." Logan said, in a gruff imitation of Morph's offer back in the club. And on any other day, Morph probably would've excepted his offer, if it hadn't been Logan himself that had appeared in their nightmare. And there was no way in hell they were going to be talking to Logan about that.

"And miss the chance to finally make you watch Pretty Woman?" Morph replied, knowing that their attempt at a smile did not reach their eyes.

Thankfully Logan didn't comment on it and instead grabbed the VHS, wound it back with the tip of his claw and placed it in the player below the TV.

Morph was expecting Logan to sit in his usual spot at the other end of the sofa, so was therefore caught off guard when the Canadian sat right next to them.

They deliberately tried not to think about that fact as the opening credits started to roll. As it continued they found themselves becoming more engrossed in the film, admiring all of Julia Robert's iconic outfits, that red dress in particular giving them inspiration for whatever gala the x-men were next invited too. They allowed themselves get lost in the romance of a rags to riches tale as like all rom-coms the main character converged ever closer to a happy ending. The guaranteed happy ending, being the reason why the genre was their favourite in the first place.

The film even managed to get a chuckle out of Logan, which Morph counted as a win as they knew that with the revelation of an additional Jean, he had to be going through his own shit.

And when Morph's attention wavered and the edges of their skin started to droop, Logan placed his arm along the back of the sofa, his hand resting on their shoulder, effectively grounding them back to this reality.

Even if it did made it harder for Morph to as much attention to the movie afterwards.

Too soon the film finished and whilst Morph was feeling more solid, they still weren't ready for the concept of going to sleep yet.

Without even having to ask, Logan picked up the remote and rewound the tape back to the beginning, even though Morph knew that Logan wasn't a fan of films, rom-coms especially so. But he made no complaints as Richard Gere once again fell head over heals for the beautiful Julia Roberts.

Once again, the big ballgown scene played out and it was becoming a battle for Morph to keep their eyes open. Too exhausted to talk themselves out of it, hoping to conserve some of their energy into staying awake, Morph rested their head against Logan's shoulder. Expecting Logan to brush them off or turn it into another joke, they were surprised when he actually pulled them closer, his hand now properly gripping their shoulder as though they could physically shield them from their own nightmares.

And it must have worked as the next time Morph opened their eyes, daylight was flickering in through the living room windows. The first thing they noticed as they slowly came to their senses, was the low volume of the TV as it played the movie for what must've have been the tenth time. The next was that their whole body was pressed against Logan's side and that The Wolverine's hand had moved from their shoulder to their waist, hugging them even tighter.

"Sleep alright?" Logan asked, concern etched in the creases of his face.

Morph nodded, not trusting the words I love you to not tumble out of their mouth.

"Good," Logan said, those creases turning into a smile. "'Cus I can smell Jubilee making pancakes."

Of course that was when Morph finally woke up enough to realise that they were cuddling The Fucking Wolverine.

They practically ejected themselves from the sofa, putting as much distance between them and Logan as physically possible.

"Did you say pancakes?" Morph cried, acting as though their internal mental breakdown was actually just an over enthusiasm for food. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"

Not waiting to see Logan's reaction, they sprinted down the corridor to the kitchen, not realising until they were long gone that Logan must have stayed awake to protect them all night.

#morpherine #morph #wolverine #x men 97 #x men the animated series #mr sinister #jubilee #logan x morph #morph x wolverine #morph x men #kevin sydney #james logan howlett #logan howlett

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cosmic-light-fics · 8 months

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The Death of Mikey Berzatto = The Death of Stagnation/Repetition

It hurts so much to realize that Mikey's character represents a stall in any forward movement for all characters and the story in general. With him still living, no one moves. With him still living, Carmy never comes back home to run the family restaurant, Sydney Adamu never comes to work for The Beef, The Beef never becomes The Bear. There is a comfort to Mikey's character that is often spoken about when the characters who knew him the best talk about him after his death. They talk about him as something almost reliable, a being whose energy never changed. He'd always been loud. He'd always had this larger than life personality. They could rely on this person to be their source of comfort, and within that deceptive comfort, they were unconsciously never allowed to seek change.

Richie's conversation with Uncle Jimmy in Fishes is a prime example of Mikey's stagnant presence. Throughout the whole whispered conversation, we hear Mikey in the background retelling the Ceres story and Richie keeps checking over his shoulder to make sure he isn't overheard by anyone. He's begging Jimmy for a job because he knows sticking around The Beef, which means sticking around Mikey, won't allow him to grow. It's interesting to see that in the same episode, whenever Richie is around Mikey he acts just like him. But when he's alone with Tiffany and alone with Jimmy, he acts like a completely different, more mature person. Richie continuing to act the way he behaved with Mikey in season 1 came from a place of denial. He didn't want to fully accept that Mikey was really gone, so he continued to act as if he wasn't, which resulted in Richie rejecting any and all changes to The Beef, especially Sydney, whose character is the embodiment of change. It isn't until the end of the season, when Richie gives Carmy Mikey's letter, that Richie finally leaves the denial stage of grieving. He's finally able to grow and move on.

One of the major points of tension in Fishes is Mikey's fight with Lee. Lee voices his displeasure with Mikey telling the same story over and over again, and Mikey reacts aggressively to what he considers to be a massive insult. I believe Mikey lashes out so harshly because he already understands the truth of Lee's assertion. Mikey is stuck telling the same story over and over and over again, stuck with failed business venture after failed business venture, stuck living in his mother's house and running the family business and being Mikey Bear. He is Sisyphus, cursed to push the boulder up the hill for all eternity. I think the worst part of it all is the writers made him aware of his stagnation (I don't mean that in a negative way against the writers, it's gripping storytelling). We see him almost break down when Carmy gifts him the concept drawing of The Bear. He loves that his brother can see towards the future and has a vision, a plan to try to make it come to fruition, but he knows he can't be there with him.

Mikey's death is tragically inevitable in every way possible to this narrative. In a story formulated around growth, the one character who was written to be intrinsically inert could not move along with the rest of the story. What I appreciate the most about his character is the fact that, though he was unmoving, his death became the catalyst for movement. It's all so tragic and yet bittersweet.

#the bear #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #richie jerimovich #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #the bear season 2

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elf-osamu · 9 months

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“YOUR LAST MEMORY OF ME”

[ masterlist ] [ reblogs are very appreciated ]

angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, romantic relationship, jing yuan x gn!reader

warning(s) : major character death, the concept of death is discussed, implied reference for the high cloud quintet lore !!!!, blood, injuries, depictions of violence !!!!

word count : 2517 words

“i think i got too many memories getting in the way of me; you only get what you grieve; the only thing that’s ever stopping me is me; i testify if i die in my sleep, then know that my life was a killer dream; and all my childhood heroes have fallen off or died” — song: stay frosty royal milk tea by fall out boy

a/n: i’ve almost cried while writing this. as a jing yuan lover, i’m terribly sorry (it will happen again).

to be part of a long life species isn’t as easy as mortals make it to be. since their lives are nothing but a fleeting moment which will be soon forgotten, they tend to hope for a longer time to accomplish their goals, rushing every task to meet the temporary relief that it brings — a sweet feeling which one could indulge themself in, but only for a brief moment. as a consequence of this, they’re quite envious of those who don’t have to worry about such matters: those people can enjoy life to the fullest and simultaneously take things at a slow pace, savoring each second of their existence without being overwhelmed by their imminent end; new experiences are always near the corner of their days, quietly waiting for the perfect time to appear and give opportunities of every kind; the weight of death isn’t a matter to reflect upon, since it’s something far too distant to be frightened by it.

a smile was something that jing yuan hardly got to see on that face he had profoundly grown fond of — yours. one could have defined it as an almost imperceptible change, but the way your lips slightly curved in response of his affirmations hadn’t ever escaped his attentive eyes. his life had been consistent for many years, still as a lake in a flawlessly sunny day, with his usual duties and habits which never seemed to change despite the passage of time. however now he had gotten used to your presence and he could have never substituted it. those lips he loved to touch with his, those hands he relished with his when he was looking for reassurance, those eyes he would have treasured with his life if they had been gems — you. jing yuan would have never gotten tired of you.

this is what short life species harshly tell themselves and others — they can’t but concentrate on what they don’t possess, on what their hands will never reach, on what they will never be able to accomplish. nevertheless, said behavior is rather commonly found in the majority of human beings with no distinctions made; envy is a comprehensibile emotion, but when used inappropriately it can develop in resentment. the inherent desire of attaining what we’ve wished for isn’t possible at all times — but we continue on our path forward, often stumbling along the way when it gets too difficult to move on.

the general’s soul wasn’t unblemished as many thought: you had gotten the chance to meet that part of him he tried to hide under a seemingly exemplery mask of polite yet playful remarks. you had tended to his injuries, taking care of his body while he narrated the story of some of his scars; you had listened to his usually unspoken worries, when the role he had to play for the majority of his life momentarily ended and he finally showed you that he was just a human being like any other — someone who had done both outstanding and terrible things. “i… i apologize for not being the hero you’ve heard of”, he had muttered the rare times he had allowed himself to cry; it had been too long ago since the last time he had opened up to someone in such a vulnerable way.

long life species know this too well: between the scars of their past and the hopes for their future, it isn’t rare to find people who are lost in their journey, surrounded by painful memories and feelings of desperation. to forget what one’s forced to remember can make themself cling to the old days and refuse to give a glance to the other side.

you were aware of jing yuan’s foibles and past mistakes — how could you have not? — but those things had never stopped you from loving him. as you were there to accept him for who he was, you could proudly say he did the same for you; patience and consideration were only a few of his characteristics, but they were greatly helpful when you were going through difficult times. jing yuan wouldn’t have ever judged your fears and thoughts: he would have sat next to you, grounding your mind from the stress that life could give you, and reminded you of his unfeigned adoration towards your being. you both had found comfort and solace with each other.

the general of the cloud knights of the xianzhou luofu, jing yuan, had lived for too many centuries to be truly able to count them. he was acclaimed by many people and frowned upon by others — but nobody could have never doubt his dexterity and strength when it came to swordsmanship: his exceptional abilities had been of considerable effectiveness in battles and, simultaneously, his carefulness and diplomacy couldn’t be disregarded in the slightest, since they kept the law and order in his nation.

death passively follows its natural course when the right time is known — it’s a neutral state which can’t be converted by the human mind, something… irreversible; many have tried to change this fact and many have failed. each stage of life is meaningful, thus to accept what’s going to happen someday is the wisest and least painful choice, though it has to be recognized how it can still be a tough journey. his loved companions, his long-lasting enemies, everybody he knew… he had lost them, either because of demise or a change of paths.

during his life, jing yuan had collided with friends, foes and even with himself — bonds were broken, rancour was deepened, distress was reinforced: all the experiences and emotions he had been carrying in his heart for centuries seemed to be never-ending. he did his best to hide his damaged self through loads of work and too many hours of sleep; after all he was one of the arbiter-generals — if he couldn’t do his job, who could have?

he was a symbol of hope: he was someone to use as a role model and as a pillar for anyone who was in need of support and protection — failure had never been an option for those of such great importance.

he just had to resist a little longer… then everything else would have ended and peace would have prospered, as it always did.

clashes of swords and polearms reverberated through the battlefield, they were the only sounds which could be heard alongside the warriors’ screams. destruction and ruination harshly painted the surroundings, scarring the ground where nature once flourished, while combatants fell and took their last breath.

an invasion of that magnitude hadn’t been on the xianzhou luofu for quite some time and nobody had been prepared for it; unexpected encounters were the most dangerous and tiring ones.

you were a brave and capable soldier — your technique wasn’t flawless, but your determination made up for the few careless mistakes you committed while fighting; jing yuan was aware of that, but his chest still hurt whenever he knew you were battling against his enemies. as much as he believed you could successfully take care of your well-being in dire situations, he had to fight the urge to be near you when you risked your life; said feeling was reciprocated though, since the general had caught a glimpse of your figure finishing off an enemy who had tried to attack him behind his back while he was busy with three other opponents. you had flashed a smile at your lover before going into battle again.

it was a tough confront between distinct factions, but hope had come to the surface again once you had taken a glance at how many enemies were still standing: only a few were alive and their counterattacks were growing more haphazard by the second — they hadn’t expected to fall behind in battle. the rush of adrenaline you felt before accompanied your weapon through taking the life of your opponents without backing away.

jing yuan had just fought against a few people when he saw a group of his opposite faction go near you; they were too many to be dealt at the same time, too many even for someone as experienced as him — so he couldn’t let them lift a finger on your body, it was a risk too huge to be taken so carelessly.

he rapidly moved to get to your side — you were rather distant from him but, if he had screamed, you would have been distracted and you would have gotten severe injuries… or even worse. his mind was spiralling while the general was trying to calm himself down and choose the best option available to keep yourself safe but, when he saw a spear coming too near your figure, his body moved on its own: he rushed towards you and, without giving you the time to react, he took what once was your place.

time seemed to stop for a moment as he tasted the flavour of pain that came from the deep skin tear on his chest: gushes of blood brutally tinted his armor and all of a sudden his face lost the color it had just a moment before.

you couldn’t feel anything at first, your brain had registered only a part of what had occurred. then, however, you realized what you had witnessed when you watched jing yuan’s body fall on the ground.

everything had happened in a few seconds, but it felt like an unceasing event: something atrocious was taking place, something you just wished to ignore and forget… but you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.

therefore, a wave of rage hit you: you didn’t waste time to slaughter the ones who attacked the man you loved; when anyone tried to come near you, your blade was swift enough to promptly eliminate them and destroy anything that crossed its path, wounding whoever couldn’t understand the weight of the situation. it had been a while since you felt an emotion in such an intense and uncontrolled way, you looked feverish from how much strength you were using.

anger’s origin was different for everyone — yours was because of despondency.

you were moving too fast to process what was happening: the only clear thing your blurry vision could notice was the carmine blood that colored the soil and people’s armors, especially your own. you couldn’t feel the pain derived from your injuries, your clouded mind wasn’t able to process your physical state.

wrath was embracing you in its strong grip, the one thing that heartened you when you would have preferred to hide away in your own solitude.

as the only opponents left decided to retreat from the battle, you tossed your weapon to the side and fell on your knees; you were exhausted from your sudden outburst, your limbs were becoming numb and your head was spinning.

the familiar sound of your name, however, kept you grounded, making you look at the white-haired man who was laying down on the turf.

sweat and blood littered his scarred skin, a look you had gotten to know through the years you had spent with him. but this time was like no other.

you immediately sat by his side and forced yourself to act like you had everything under control, while trying to disregard the spear that had pierced his body: your hands slightly pressed near the major wound on his chest, clinging to the last hope of keeping more blood from coming out.

“my time… has come, then?” he murmured, his lips were moving slowly, too slowly, though his voice was calm as the usual; you would have said he wasn’t feeling much pain, if you didn’t know him that well.

a grin was plastered on his face and it only made you sadder to see him keep his mask even on that unpleasant occasion.

“don’t you dare say that, jing yuan. there’s still time, we can make someone look for a doctor, we… you can resist for a few minutes until then!”, you sounded — you were — desperate. “everything is going to work out in the end, isn’t it?”.

you were trying your best to pay no attention to your thoughts: there was no doubt that his injury was fatal, he already had lost too much blood to return back to his usual life and be saved. you would have switched places in a heartbeat if you were given the opportunity to do so, you would have given anything to keep him alive; jing yuan had understood it since the first day your love for him had been known.

his eyes were fixated on your face, as if they were trying to soothe your distressed mind. with the last remaining ounce of strength, he rested one of his hands on yours and deepened his smile.

he called out your name again. “do you know how much i care about you?”.

if the situation were different, you would have punched him; tears began to fall down on your cheeks; you would have liked to scream and say he wouldn’t have died in that way, but you managed to make your lips curve into a faux grin; if you had to smile, you would have done it for him.

“yes, love. i do know it all too well”, you whispered, your gaze was focused only on his face and the flutter of his eyelashes.

jing yuan slowly nodded and mumbled “good”: his heart could have ultimately rested now that he had your confirmation.

he looked at the gray sky, silently saying his goodbyes to the world around him. “if there’s anything beyond this life… i hope i’ll get the chance to… to meet my friends… and lost companions there…”. you felt his fingers caress yours in a reassuring manner, a habit of his the general of the luofu couldn’t abandon even in death. “perhaps we are going… to talk again”.

you inclined your head, there was nothing else you could do.

his deep voice, the white cascade of his long hair, those golden eyes that held many memories, the strategies he followed while playing chess, his comforting laugh, every characteristic of his — you would have never forgotten any of them.

“i feel… so light…” he muttered as he closed his eyes, inhaling air for the last time.

an uncontrollable sob broke out from your throat as you bended over and hugged his cold body close to your chest, your forehead was against his.

pain had been a part of jing yuan’s life since he was a child and it ushered him also to his demise, as a loyal intimate who had never left his side.

you held back your tears when a question made its way into your head: would he have found solace now that everything was over? you shivered and hoped he could finally rest, but your heart wouldn’t have been the same ever again.

the peace you had found within his presence had mercilessly been broken and nothing could have ever repaired it.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

[ tag list — @bladesmuse ]

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iwanthermidnightz · 1 month

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*excerpts below — but I highly recommend reading the full article in link above*

Hit Me Hard and Soft dunks us headfirst back into that universe, from the deepest wallows of depression to the exhaustion that comes with the world speculating about her every move. There are no arachnids where they shouldn’t be, but getting in touch with her darker side has Eilish finally feeling like herself again. “I feel like this album is me,” she says. “It’s not a character. It feels like the When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? version of me. It feels like my youth and who I was as a kid.”

Although 2019 felt like a whirlwind of madness at the time, she has found herself missing it. “It was the best time of my life,” she says. “This whole process has felt like I’m coming back to the girl that I was. I’ve been grieving her. I’ve been looking for her in everything, and it’s almost like she got drowned by the world and the media. I don’t remember when she went away.”

The title Hit Me Hard and Soft derives from a conversation she had with Finneas, when she mistakenly thought the name of a synth in Logic Pro was called Hit Me Hard and Soft. “I thought it was such a perfect encapsulation of what this album does,” she explains. “It’s an impossible request: You can’t be hit hard and soft. You can’t do anything hard and soft at the same time. I’m a pretty extremist person, and I really like when things are really intense physically, but I also love when things are very tender and sweet. I want two things at once. So I thought that was a really good way to describe me, and I love that it’s not possible.”

Eilish and Finneas call Hit Me Hard and Soft “an album-ass album.” It’s not a concept record, but it is a self-consciously cohesive set of songs, inspired by auteurist works from the past 15 years or so, like Coldplay’s Viva La Vida, Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die, Tyler, the Creator’s Goblin, Marina and the Diamonds’ Electra Heart, and Vince Staples’ Big Fish Theory.

“Lunch,” a complete 180 in both sound and subject content. It’s a sexy, bass-heavy banger where Eilish is crushing on a girl so hard she likens sex with her to devouring a meal. Finneas remembers playing this moment for Interscope and witnessing the team shift in their seats. “What’s funny about starting the album with [the opener] is that it is a total false promise,” he says. “If you’re remembering ‘What Was I Made For?’ and then you hear [it], you go, ‘Oh, OK. I understand this world.’ Then the drums come in [on “Lunch”], and it really is the kill-the-main-character-type beat. It’s like Drew Barrymore being in the first five minutes of Scream and then they kill her. You’re like, ‘They can’t kill Drew. Oh, my God, they killed Drew!’”

Eilish and I spend a lot of time talking about the new era she is about to kick off, and how she’ll promote Hit Me Hard and Soft while prioritizing her mental health, privacy, and well-being. With all of that in mind, I wonder if she’s ready for journalists to pepper her with questions about the album’s subject matter, particularly the sexual nature of “Lunch.” “That song was actually part of what helped me become who I am, to be real,” Eilish says. “I wrote some of it before even doing anything with a girl, and then wrote the rest after. I’ve been in love with girls for my whole life, but I just didn’t understand — until, last year, I realized I wanted my face in a vagina. I was never planning on talking about my sexuality ever, in a million years. It’s really frustrating to me that it came up.”

Eilish is referring to her interview with Variety last fall, in which she mentioned she was attracted to women. The quote — “I’m attracted to them for real” — became a national headline. The following month, Eilish attended Variety’s Hitmakers event in L.A. While on the red carpet, she was asked if she intentionally came out in the story. “No, I didn’t,” she told them. “But I kind of thought, ‘Wasn’t it obvious?’” Eilish then posted about it on Instagram, with a caption that read, “Thanks Variety for my award and for also outing me on a red carpet at 11 a.m. instead of talking about anything else that matters. I like boys and girls leave me alone about it please literally who cares.”

Looking back, Eilish admits she overreacted with the Instagram post. “Who fucking cares?” she says. “The whole world suddenly decided who I was, and I didn’t get to say anything or control any of it. Nobody should be pressured into being one thing or the other, and I think that there’s a lot of wanting labels all over the place. Dude, I’ve known people that don’t know their sexuality, or feel comfortable with it, until they’re in their forties, fifties, sixties. It takes a while to find yourself, and I think it’s really unfair, the way that the internet bullies you into talking about who you are and what you are.”

As for that red-carpet quote that made all the headlines, Eilish says she tried to think of a response that would be entertaining for her fans and the internet. “I went into Billie Eilish interview mode, [like], ‘Oh, I don’t care. Yeah, I’ll say whatever. Wasn’t it obvious?’” she says. “And then afterwards I was like, ‘Wait. It wasn’t obvious to me.’”

Thinking about it now, she draws a bigger lesson from that moment. “I know everybody’s been thinking this about me for years and years, but I’m only figuring out myself now,” she says. “And honestly, what I said was funny, because I really was just saying what they’ve all been saying.” She adds that she liked the journalist she was talking to and didn’t want to be rude. But she still felt exploited. “Bro, I have asthma out here,” she says. “I fucking can’t take a breath.”

If Eilish had the opportunity to do it over again on the red carpet, she says, she wouldn’t have answered the question. But she acknowledges it could have been worse. “I’m lucky enough to be in a time when I’m able to say something like that and things go OK for me,” she says. “And that’s not how a lot of people’s experience is.”

Eilish has officially decided to make some changes to the way she presents herself to the world. “This album, to me, feels like a way to restart, in terms of my sharing,” she says. So let’s take a second to reintroduce Billie Eilish, the home-schooled bohemian who captured our attention as a teenager. She’s 22 now, yet she’s more self-aware than people twice her age. She would like some space to grow, to figure out exactly who she is — no label required. She is not the poster child for anything. And she is not, she’d like to note, a TED Talk speaker. So where does that leave us? Eilish sums things up with four simple words that point to her desire for normalcy and acceptance.

“I’m just a girl.”

#please read the whole article from this link #she really went there #billie eilish

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tokkias · 10 months

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to (almost) lose you ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Natsu doesn't like to dwell on the past. There's no reason to keep living in the past when your future is right in front of you. Unfortunately, it seems his subconscious doesn't quite feel the same way. ao3

Nalu Week 2023 Day 3: Fears @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive

When Natsu came to, his vision was still blurry, his mind still in a haze, as though he had just woken up from a coma. He couldn’t remember where he’d been or what he’d been doing before now, which made it difficult to surmise why he wasn’t in bed like he thought he should have been.

Wherever this place was, it was foreign to him, but a dash of familiarity sat on the edge of his tongue that he couldn’t quite place.

He wasn’t alone, he could be certain of that; various scents wafted through the air, and while he was certain he could have placed them after a moment, he was still foggy and unsure of where he was or why he was there.

The moment his vision finally returned fully, and he caught a glimpse of the blue and gold marble floors, cracked, chipped, and turned to rubble in places, he could swear his heart stopped beating.

No.

He didn’t want to be here again.

He couldn’t take the memories associated with this place.

When he pulled himself up and examined the terrain, his worst fears were confirmed as he spotted future Lucy’s lifeless body laying between the rubble.

The pain was just as he remembered it as he tried to stumble over to her, holding his hand over the bleeding wound in his side to try and stop the agony. Not that the physical pain could outweigh the emotional suffering he was going through right now.

Even worse than the wound on his side was the feeling that he had been stabbed in the chest; the knife twisted deep into his heart as he desperately gasped for breath.

He barely managed to push through it before he dropped to his knees by her side.

For years, this moment had haunted him in his nightmares, forcing him to relive one of the worst moments of his life over and over again. It had been a while since the last one. He had thought it had long since dissipated and that he had moved past it, but apparently something somewhere in his subconscious was haunting him, ensuring that he would never forget the sight of a lifeless Lucy, so long as he lived.

With aching limbs, he managed to pull her into his arms, cradling her body like he had never gotten to do the first time. She looked like she was resting in a peaceful slumber, but her body was so cold.

So vividly, he could recall the way the light drained from his Lucy’s eyes as they welled with tears, just before she fell limp and into rest for a final time.

Well, she wasn’t really his Lucy.

She was a Lucy belonging with a Natsu that was long gone, one who had fought long and hard to save her.

But it didn’t matter that it wasn’t his Lucy. She looked just like his Lucy; she smelled just like his Lucy; she had the same glimmer of love and hope in her eye as his Lucy, right before her flame flickered and dwindled away.

It was a gruesome reminder of her mortality.

His Lucy was not immortal.

One day, she too would take her last breath and return to the stars where she once came from.

It didn’t matter how much he kicked and screamed and clung to her; there still remained the possibility that she too would leave him.

It made bile rise in his throat and tears prick in the corners of his eyes.

Too much had been going on at the time to let him sob and wail. He’d held himself back and let the emotion drive him to save their future, but he didn’t want that this time. He didn’t want to fight Rouge again; he didn’t want to relive the rest of this trauma.

He didn’t want to face the concept of mortality; he wanted to be back with his Lucy, feel her steady breaths as he rested his head on her chest and she tangled her finger in his hair.

He wanted to grieve.

And grieve he did.

With no burden, no shame, he howled in despair, holding her tight against his chest. He wailed and screamed until his throat was raw and hoarse. He cried until there were no more tears left, and all he could do was heave for breath.

Once he felt he could not physically cry any longer, he tried to blink the tears from his eyes to look down at her.

It was incredible that Lucy could still retain all of her beauty and elegance, even in death.

It wasn’t fair that she looked so pretty when she was nothing more than a corpse, laying lifeless in his arms, because it reminded him that she was real—that this was really Lucy, dead in his arms.

His arms shook as he pulled her closer and dipped his face down so their noses touched. He flinched slightly when it was cold, still somehow expecting that bright Lucy warmth that he had become so accustomed to. After a moment of hesitation, he didn’t let himself be deterred and brushed the tips of their noses together before pressing his forehead against hers, just as he had done no more than an hour before the moment that cost her life.

He held himself there for as long as she could manage, wondering what would give out first: his arms or his heart.

It seemed the latter broke down first, unable to deal with her cold skin and stiffening body for much longer.

He placed her back down gently, trying not to tousle her too much, even in her death, making sure she still looked her best when she was to return to the heavens, where she belonged.

Feeling her delicate hand for the final time, he rested it just over her heart and tried to bite back the tears when he reached for the other arm and found himself grasping at nothing.

His hands gripped into fists, and he clenched his eyes shut so hard that it hurt as he tried to will himself away from here. He wanted to go home, to the guild, back to Lucy’s apartment, where he was safe and loved, where he could hold his Lucy and watch her laugh, see her smile. Everything would be okay again if he could hear her voice.

Had he known where his subconscious would take him, perhaps he’d have stayed right there, cradling her gently until the memory faded away.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have had faith that he would be freed so soon.

It was dark and damp when he opened his eyes. His knees ached from kneeling on the hard, concrete floor, but that pain was little more than a pinprick when he saw what was in front of her.

Draped across the stone, blood dripping from her forehead, lay his Lucy.

His Lucy.

Not some Lucy from a timeline long gone, from a universe running parallel to their own.

His Lucy.

On instinct, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her so that she was sitting up before him, but her head fell limply to the side, and he sucked in a shaky breath.

He tried to contain himself, to hold back the tears and insanity that clawed at his heart, leaving deep gashes and cuts as they dug in. No, he would not cave into his demons. This time, he had the benefit of hindsight.

He pulled his head down to press his ear against her chest, and he could hear her heartbeat.

Thump.

It was faint. It was quiet. It was barely there at all.

But god, she was alive.

She’s not gone. She’s not gone.

Those three words echoed as an affirmation in his brain, trying to keep him sane and stable as his hands shook as he held her.

You could save her. You could save her.

Maybe she had been fine the first time. Maybe she had made it out unscathed. But now that he was given the chance to play it all out again, he wasn’t going to take that risk.

Wrapping one arm around her torso while slipping the other under her legs, he pulled her close to his body, lifting her up as her dead weight fell against him. She was heavier than usual in this state, but he wasn’t about to whinge and complain.

He was going to find her help, even if it was the last damned thing he ever did.

Where exactly help was going to come from, he couldn’t say. He had hardly recalled where he was or who was where at the time. The memories remained vague in his mind, so all he could do was run.

The empty and damaged streets of Magnolia twisted into some strange maze that he couldn’t quite map out in his head. He would take a turn that he expected to lead to one place, only to find himself in another. He ran loops, finding himself back where he started, and every cry for help he let out was met with a horrible, deafening silence.

Her skin was still warm, but he was hardly in the mindset to appreciate it. He didn’t know what was wrong with her; he didn’t know what ailments had inflicted her, just knew that he needed to get her somewhere safe.

His legs ached from running, and his arms were beginning to throb from carrying her, but he thought he was about to find solace as he spotted the turnoff that he knew led to Lucy’s street.

With rejuvenated hope, he sped up, his heart thumping hard and fast in his chest as he thought about finally escaping this nightmare, but the moment he skidded around the corner, he was met with the very same street that he had just come from.

His arms shook with frustration, and he could feel the tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to carry Lucy much further as he began to run out of breath. Though he usually had endless amounts of energy, it seemed that crying and sobbing had taken a toll on him, and he was struggling to keep her up.

Seeing no other option, Natsu trudged over to a side street and dropped to his knees.

He tried to be careful with Lucy as he rested her against the brick wall. It wasn’t ideal, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins had him so shaky that he feared he might drop her if he continued to run.

For a moment, he didn’t pull away, resting his forehead against the wall as he tried to compose himself. His breath was shaking, though from the exertion or emotional torment, he couldn’t be sure.

When he finally felt ready, he pulled himself away from the wall and glanced down at Lucy, but what he was met with made him feel like he had stopped breathing altogether.

Across her soft, porcelain skin were horrific, gory burn marks, fresh, and red, and raw. Every inch of her skin that had come into contact with his was now branded with fresh burns.

Her barren chest was scorched to the point that he could almost hear it sizzle. The side of her face where she had rested against his shoulder was now scarred and deformed. He could practically see his handprint branded into her shoulder, and the sight of it came with the disgusting revelation that he had done this.

He had hurt his Lucy, disfigured, and deformed her.

He wanted to scream out for help, but his throat was so raw and torn that barely a croak escaped his lips.

His lip quivered as he looked at her, unable to tear his eyes away from the damage that he had caused and not being able to do a damn thing about it.

On instinct, he reached out to her but stopped himself at the last moment out of fear of making this any worse than it already was. Instead, he braced himself against the wall and leant over her as the tears began to run down his cheeks.

They dripped down onto her, where they evaporated with a hiss against the heat of her skin.

The sound of it made his stomach lurch, and he had to swallow thickly to keep himself from vomiting.

He had tried so hard to get her to help, to keep her out of harm's way, but he had just ended up ruining her. He was supposed to keep her safe, but now, here she was, half-burning to death in the middle of an alley, because of him, and he was out of ways to stop it.

He pulled himself off the floor, stumbling and tripping, disoriented as his mind caused the world to spin around him, his vision blurred with tears. Just as he was about to fall, he caught himself on the wall.

In a moment of pure frustration, he balled his hands into fists and slammed one against the concrete. It burned at the contact, the side of his hand turning red from the force of it.

He knew it wasn’t his fault.

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t stop it.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and let his back hit the wall before sinking to the ground.

With a sharp gasp for air, Natsu finally found his solace in the inky darkness of their bedroom and the steady, even breathing coming from the bed next to him.

He stayed frozen in place for a moment as his body adjusted to being awake, still feeling the full weight of panic from what he had just been through, but with each breath he could feel his heart rate begin to steady ever so slightly.

When he finally felt that he could move, he turned his head to the side, where he found Lucy, right where she was meant to be sleeping soundly at his side.

She stirred slightly, and a twinge of guilt hit him as he realised that that was probably his fault from thrashing through the night, but it couldn’t override the feeling of insurmountable relief knowing that she was okay.

"Natsu?" She croaked out, her voice hoarse from her half sleep state.

"Yeah," he murmured. "It’s just me."

Her reply only came out in a series of incoherent mumbles, her brain clearly still in the clutches of sleep.

"Sorry," he whispered, keeping his voice low so not to startle her. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

She didn’t bother with a verbal reply this time. Instead, she rolled over to face him and shuffled closer.

He flinched when he felt her bury her face in the crook of his neck, fearing what his touch might do to her, but after sucking in a breath, he reminded himself that she was safe, and so was he.

She flung her arm over his chest before moving her hand up, clearly trying to find something with touch alone based on the way she lightly smacked him before moving up slightly again and again and again. Her hand whacked him right in the nose before she finally found what she had been looking for, resting her hand tenderly on his jaw.

Unsure of what she was trying to achieve, he let himself lean into her touch nonetheless before he felt her move, her nose brushing against his jaw before he felt her lips press against it.

They lingered there for a moment before she moved back to her comfy spot, snuggled up into his side, resting her head on his chest, and bringing her arm back down, letting it rest across his torso.

Once he was certain that she wasn’t hurt, he finally let himself relax. He felt the tension leave his body before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

She squeaked a little when he squeezed her too tight, but after a murmured apology and the loosening of his grip, they both shuffled into a more comfortable position to get them through the night.

For a moment, Natsu let himself watch her, feel the push of each breath against his side as her chest rose and fell. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she scrunched her face slightly at his touch but otherwise didn’t wake. A soft breath of laughter escaped at her expression, and he almost wished he could mark it in his brain forever for nights like these, where all he could think about was how easy it would be to lose her.

The reminder made his chest ache and his lip quiver once more, but almost as if she could feel his woes, Lucy gave him a light squeeze before letting out a soft murmur.

"Go to sleep, Natsu."

Part of him wanted to insist that he would be fine without it, that he would be content to just lay here, snuggled up with her, the rest of the night, but the morning would bring with it new adventures that he knew she would insist he needed to be well rested for.

After a moment's silence, his gaze flicked up to the dark but familiar ceiling of her—no, their—apartment, which brought him a sense of comfort.

He would be safe here, in their home, in the arms of his lover.

"Okay," he finally spoke, looking back down at her to see she was looking at him with half-lidded, sleepy eyes, waiting for him to join her in rest, and how was he supposed to say no?

"Goodnight, Natsu."

"Goodnight, Lucy."

The quiet lingered for a moment as he felt something else lay on the tip of his tongue, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he spoke up just one more time.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#nalu #fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #naluweek2023 #fan fiction #mya writes things

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theatrequeen · 1 year

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Months ago on the Azris Discord server someone had mentioned the concept of Eris losing his memory as he aged due to the Beron's abuse from over the years, which led to this idea festering in my mind and for a while I'd thought about writing it into an actual fic, but I just don't have the time, but I still want to share the idea.

Eris dies at like 1867. He lived long enough to see his children grow up and fall in love. He got to meet his grandchildren. He’d stepped down from his High Lord mantle at around 1750 when his memory started to go. After everything that Beron had put him through eventually even his immortal body starts to give out. His mind was slipping for decades forgetting so many important things from his life. He’ll often talk about people who’ve already passed on (his Mother, Helion, Azriel’s Mother, sometimes even Beron) as if they’re still alive. He remembers Az and their children easily enough, but everything else is just a mess. All the nieces and nephews are a hot mess of names, he mixes up his brothers and who they’re all married to and whose kids belong to whom. He doesn’t remember people’s ages anymore and constantly thinks that old major events happened a lot sooner than they had been (i.e. Hybern war happened a few years ago). Lucien tried to help, searching for a spell to do something helpful, but it was pretty much impossible to find a cure as this was hardly ever seen in Fae. He eventually passes away in his sleep. Az finds out only moments after when the mating bond is cracking and eventually fades out. The funeral is at the end of the week for the beloved High Lord who’d managed to save Autumn from the hateful path that it had been led down. Eris’ body was burned and his ashes released in the wind. A gravestone was placed beneath the tree where Eris had spent so much time with Az and their children.

Az tried to stay strong for his children who’d lost their dad sooner than anyone had expected. Their daughter threw herself into her High Lady work (though with the world at peace, there wasn’t too much heavy work she constantly needed to do). She and her husband (Thesan’s eldest son) and their own children do what they can to find peace and move on in light of her dad’s death. Their son stayed in the Autumn Court as well, but Az had to leave. Everywhere he looked reminded him of his lost mate. Eris was Autumn personified so of course the Court would remind him of Eris. He traveled for a while, visited his friends and family, but seeing them all so in love and them constantly asking if he’s okay. He returns home to Autumn and is greeted by both his kids excitedly hugging him. It’d been about a year since he’d been there so after spending some time with them both he goes to visit Eris’ gravestone. He spends hours talking to him. Az admits that when he’d heard the stories of those ancient Fae who could die of a broken heart he’d thought they were absolute nonsense, but now having lost Eris, it hurts so much more that he actually understands those stories' pain. As Az sits by that tree for hours and as the sun’s setting he sees Eris standing there smiling at him, the gray gone from his hair, looking just as he had the day they’d mated. “It’s my time isn’t it?” “Only if you wish it to be.” Azriel knows the children will grieve. He knows his friends and family will be heartbroken, but he can finally see his mate again. The male he loves so much that it’s hurt to be away from for such a long time. So when Eris reached out to him he took his hand and stepped through to the otherside.

Rhys and Cassian notice something’s wrong immediately. Their bargain tattoos begin burning. Rhys was with Nyx and Feyre at a meeting with Lucien and Elain and their children in the Day Court when his tattoo started burning. Cassian was with Nesta on a date at their favorite cafe in Velaris when his are burning. Nesta winnows him to Autumn where Rhys already is cradling Az’s head in his lap. Cassian dropped to his side both the batboys trying so hard to wake Az. Rhys is in his mind and sees those final moments but still attempts to bring him back. Nesta, still practically the goddess of death, knows there’s no bringing him back. His spirit is already so far on the other side. Silently she utters the prayer she’s heard enough to make sure that he passes safely. Nesta goes to find her niece and nephew. It’s important that they know what happened. Az’s daughter was with her youngest reading a book and his son was up on a ladder pulling down a book to read. Both are surprised to see Nesta there. She pulls them both into the hall and has to tell them the news. They rush out to where Az, Cass, and Rhys are. Az’s body was cradled between his brothers, both with tears down their cheeks. Az’s kids joined them.

Azriel’s funeral was similar to Eris’. He too was burned and his ashes scattered. His name was placed next to Eris’ so that their memories would continue to live on together even though they’d both passed on. Both kids grieved again, but they also knew it was for the best. Their Baba had been miserable since their Dad’s passing (and they’d told that to their family in the other courts). He’d tried so hard to act as if he’d been able to peacefully move on as if he hadn’t lost half of his heart when their Dad had died. They’d honestly both been surprised that he’d lasted a year even. Both children made sure to make it a priority that they visit that gravestone often because without their parents, so many other’s lives would be so much worse off than if Autumn had just been left to rot and fester. Instead they’d both poured their hearts and souls into raising Autumn from the ashes so the future generations might be able to live peacefully and safely in the court that had known pain and suffering for so long.

#Azris #Azriel #eris vanserra #High Lord Eris #Azris children #Future au #Rhysand #Feyre #Nyx #Cassian #Nesta #Lucien #Elain #Helion #Beron #lady of the autumn court #Memory loss #acotar

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thatharringrovehoe · 2 years

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I have to memory of writing this but I'm clearing out my drafts so here ya go!

When Steve and Billy move in together Billy is 100% ready to have to handle the finances. Because he's so sure that Steve, being the trust fund baby that he is, has no concept of budgeting or living paycheck to paycheck. But to his complete suprise (and utter confusion) Steve is really frugal. Knows how to make some really banger poor man's dinners. Freezes leftovers without being prompted. Cuts coupons, buys bargain brand, knows basic house repairs and what? Why does Steve even need to know any of this? So one day he just. Asks.

"The hell taught you how to pinch pennies rich boy?"

Steve gets a little cagey. A little defensive. And Billy realizes he's stepped on a bit of a landmine when it comes to his boyfriend's past. So he treads carefully. Decides to leave it alone because lord knows that's what Billy wishes people would do 99% of the time when it came to his issues. It pays off when, a few days later as they lay cuddling on the couch watching their tiny tv, Steve opens up.

"My parents gave me an allowance."

And. Alright? That's not, like. Abnormal. He says as much. Steve just keeps his eyes glued to the staticky rerun of 'I Love Lucy' while he breaks Billy's heart.

"After they fired Rosa, I had to take care of myself and the house. To teach me to be a man or something. There wasn't always enough to both keep the power on and stock food for three months."

"Three months? How old were you? And who's Rosa?"

Steve sighs.

"Rosa was my nanny. My parents fired her when they figured I was to old to have one. Think I was like. Twelve?"

He sounds sad. Like he's talking about a dead relative he's still grieving for.

"She couldn't just. I dunno, check on you?"

Billy doesn't get this. Steve wore designer clothes. Drove a fucking Beamer. And he was going hungry for who knows how long at the age of twelve?

"She had her own kids Billy. I was just. I dunno. A job. I managed fine. She taught me how to make some basic meals and do a little house maintaience before she left so. More than anyone else taught me."

Billy is once again blindsided by how little he knew about Steve when he pulled up to Hawkins. All the things he just assumed.

"'s not fine pretty boy. They shoulda been there."

Steve finally turns to look up at Billy. His smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Doesn't matter. I got you now right?"

The TV flickers and hums in the background. Billy's chest feels tight, to small to carry all the love he has for this beautiful man. His fingers itch to set the house in Loc Nora ablaze. Put to rest all the ghosts.

He pulls Steve tighter to his chest. Burries his nose in chestnut hair that smells like lavender and Fera Faucet.

"You're never getting rid of me, baby"

#what is this?#i dunno but i don't feel like adding to it so oh well #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #tw: child abuse #tw: child neglect #that hoe writes #cleaning out my drafts

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ystrike1 · 2 years

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He Was My Brother - By Matsuda Minoru (8/10)

Love after death is such a terrifying concept? How do dead things love? Why do they hang on? Should the dead stay dead and let the living live? If you knew your dead lover was watching your every move would you be able to move on? Or, would you feel pressured to join your love in death?

Kanako's brother died. He was a womanizer. He ran away from his family and married someone they didn't approve of. He was a good brother. He spoiled Kanako when she was a kid, but then he moved away, and then he died. He got sick and died beside his beloved husband. Her brother turned over a new leaf near the end of his tumultuous life. He fell madly in love with a man named Hijiri.

Hijiri is an author who lives in a gorgeous glass house. He likes to wear kimonos, because they're comfortable, and he doesn't work in an office. He's basically retired. He is much, much older than Kanako. He doesn't see her as a woman, but Kanako and her brother are too similar. She fell for him as soon as she saw him.

Kanako uses Hijiri's grief to get closer to him. She doesn't tell her parents anything. Her parents despise Hijiri. Kanako's brother decided to die a little earlier. He didn't want to spend his final days in a hospital bed. He wanted to spend them at home with Hijiri. He did so against his parents wishes. If her brother had chosen to stay in the hospital he would have lived a little longer. Kanako's parents cannot forgive Hijiri.

They also don't approve of Hijiri because he's a man. He was kicked out of the funeral. He wasn't allowed to grieve with the family. It was heartbreaking to watch them turn him away. Hijiri really madly loved Kanako's brother. Kanako wants to become him and receive Hijiri's unconditional love. She pretends to like what Hijiri likes. She spends all of her savings on tickets to visit Hijiri.

Hijiri has some of his husband's bones. He managed to get them because of Kanako, and he burns incense for his beloved all the time. He's lonely without his husband. He lets Kanako in because she seems sweet, and he has no one. His love for his husband was his light, and now he's depressed.

Kanako can see an evil spirit near her beloved Hijiri. She knows it's her brother, because they're so alike. She's crazy jealous on the inside too. Her brother was a nice guy when he was alive, but now he can't let go. Hijiri made him happy. Hijiri saved him from a cycle of vapid relationships that meant nothing. He can't let Hijiri move on. Hijiri is his one true love.

Kanako can see how twisted her brother's soul has become. Death changed him. Or maybe he was never nice. We don't know yet. The evil spirit is trying to kill Hijiri. It is making his depression worse. Hijiri was already vulnerable. He doesn't know how to live on without his husband.

Things get serious. The evil spirit that used to be her brother tries to shove Hijiri in front of a train. How can Kanako protect Hijiri? Her evil brother can phase through walls and he's controlled be jealousy. She doesn't live with him. She can only visit. Every time she returns he looks worse.

I really can't tell what the ending will be. Both of the siblings are obsessed with poor Hijiri, but the man can't choose either of them. He doesn't want to die, and he's not interested in his dead husband's kid sister. He keeps suffering. Knives cut him out of nowhere. The spirit keeps egging him to kill himself. He really has no one to rely on, because Kanako isn't trustworthy too.

This is a very miserable yandere story, about love after death. The evil spirit might not be real. Kanako could be crazy, and Hijiri could just be a suicidal man.

We don't know.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #manga #manga review #He Was My Brother

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tethered-heartstrings · 1 year

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how do you think hannibal would have gone about his life if will had died, either somehow during the storyline (like when he's the bshci) or if post-fall will had died and he hadn't? or the other way around, how do you think will would have gone about if hannibal had died somehow? i imagine it'd be a different reaction for each of them based on whether or not the death was by the other's hand... i haven't seen many fics exploring this so far so if you have reccs pls share :))

this is such a great ask and a concept I think about a lot! I will start off by saying I have written a post and a fic ("The Pulse That Sustains You") exploring this but I will share more of my thoughts! Both the post and my fic explore the aftermath, but the fic delves more into coping, feelings, etc.

Hannibal has lost someone he deeply cared about before, Mischa. Hannibal has some idea on how he needs to cope. He would want to eat Will like he ate Mischa, incorporate Will into him, grieve at his loss but gain their conjoining of flesh. To devour him, change him, become one, love him.

Now, if Will died during the show, in prison via execution or something else, Hannibal would unlikely have access to Will’s corpse. He wouldn’t be able to grieve as he needed to. I think he would be lost, unsure how to move on. Post-fall, he’d eat Will. If somehow he couldn’t, it’d be worse than if Will died before the fall. So much more attached now, truly blurred. Hannibal would feel a part of himself is truly lost. Maybe he’d delve into murder less cautiously, more impulsively. Killing makes him feel alive, feel like god. What does one do when your god is dead and you cannot let them go because they were a part of you and you them? There are a lot of avenues that could be explored here.

If Will lost Hannibal it would definitely look different. He hasn’t lost anyone like that. He lost Abigail, sure, but that was someone that was almost never meant to be. Hannibal was someone that shouldn’t have been but became someone. Will was the one stating they are blurred, the line where one begins and the other ends is unknown. If Hannibal died before the finale, especially before Will really realized Hannibal loved him, I think he would recover, or think he could. It may not hit him for a long time how much he loved Hannibal and that those feelings were reciprocated. Maybe his marriage with Molly would fail, then the next, another. Until he could no longer find someone. Nobody was ever enough, everyone had too many flaws. And then he realizes years, decades down the line, there was someone, even with all their flaws that was enough. And he was gone.

Post-fall, I think Will would be devastated. But while Hannibal would fall into a depression, Will would get angry. Angry at being abandoned, left alone, finally finding someone his soul spoke to and heard something back only to be left with silence. He might go on a killing spree as well but reckless. Not caring to live or die. Not directly suicidal but fine with “death by cop” or “pissed off the wrong guy and they came back with a vengeance” type deal. If he survived all that, he’d stop. He’d try to pick up where he left off, make a normal life for himself. But he’d become a hermit again, accrue another clan of strays, resolving himself to never making another human connection again because it just Hurts Too Much, and he isn’t sure he could, or wants to, survive another loss.

As far as fic recommendations (besides mine oops), I have read maaaaybe a few MCDs and none of them explored the aftermath of that loss.

#tw suicide #ish but just in case #kunariii #the curious clown

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spokenfromtheheartandsoul · 1 year

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I was nervous about how Moonlight Chicken was going to handle the whole Alan-meets-Gaipa situation, because as much as I love the natural onscreen chemistry First and Khao have with one another with them being best friends in real life, Alan and Gaipa’s characters are a whole other story. They’d both gone through so much pain and upheaval in the last few episodes. The two of them deserved to be more than just be two random loose ends in a story that got paired up with one another for the sake of tying things up neatly.

But I’m actually so pleasantly surprised with how the show chose to maneuver it! Starting by first giving the both of them time and space to grieve, and to move forward with their lives on their own. Gaipa to grieve the loss of his mother, and also to make peace with Jim being happy with Wen. Alan to finally come to terms with the loss of a long-term relationship and to begin his own grieving process by letting go, leaving his and Wen’s pictures behind when he moves out, and deciding to “walk on his own” again.

And then, we are slowly introduced to the possibility of something new for the both Alan and Gaipa. I appreciate that the show doesn’t immediately throw the two of them into a new relationship and tie it up with a bow, but instead we get little hints that gives these characters room to breathe.

Gaipa and Alan are still working through their own things, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get to have those small subtle moments that come along with having a newfound crush: the instinctive smiling at one another, the silly excuses just to talk to one another and run into one another, the secret fond glances when the other person isn’t looking. It’s cute! It’s sweet! And honestly, the two of them really do deserve cute and sweet after everything they’ve gone through (Gaipa in particular - that boy has my whole heart and I would give him the world if I could.)

Anyway tl;dr, I’m very soft for the way Moonlight Chicken introduced the Alan x Gaipa concept. Two people who are still healing but get to have a hopeful ending with hints at new beginnings, all while still being surrounded by the people who have cared for them, and always will care for them no matter what, because that is what it means to be a part of a community.

#I do love the idea of gaipa's mom planting the seed in alan's head way early on haha #anyway I just binged mlc in under 24 hrs and folks. i am unwell #anyway not my tldr being an essay itself why am i like this #idk why i ever doubted tbh that's on me for underestimating the power of paof and firstkhao!#moonlight chicken #alan x gaipa #gaipa #gaipa x alan #gaipalan

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isagrimorie · 10 months

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A little bit of a soft pushback on this post. re: curatorial fandom etc on Star Trek Picard season 3– I don’t think it's pure nostalgia and fan service.

Because I don’t think the characters we revisited stayed in one place, they weren’t who they were before. Some of them were rougher than others and some have had it done well.

I know most people were happy about Picard having almost nothing to do with the elements of TNG, and I do agree some of it was refreshing but for me, Trek is a starship and a crew -- even DS9 falls on this despite being a station, and it was always a little sad Sir Patrick Stewart was reluctant to include his friends in Picard.

He might have been a big part of the draw in TNG with Brent Spiner's Data as the other big draw but Picard wasn't the only reason why people watched TNG.

I also wanted an update on Beverly, Geordi, and on Worf.

And I know it's unpopular but as a show, Picard felt incomplete without his friends. (Also, knowing Sir Patrick Stewart was riding off the high of Logan for the reasoning behind Picard it made sense now. Logan was an excellent movie!)

But Picard not keeping in touch with the people he served with and considered family, it felt disappointing. Especially since I specifically went into the show expecting Picard to have kept in touch.

Ultimately, after returning to season 1, I did enjoy aspects of Picard s1 with a lot of niggles in between because season 1 had a LOT of big ideas and 10 episodes didn't serve the story well.

There were so many good ideas there that just didn't fly and most of season 1 was spent talking with not a lot of forward momentum on both plot and character.

I think in an ideal world there should have been 16 to 20 episodes per season to round things out. Season 1 had intriguing concepts that went nowhere and the Borg were just— there. They introduced the concept of ex-Borgs and did nothing with them.

Also, it was mentioned how S1 of Picard is very close to the plot of Mass Effect -- which is okay, good sci-fi shows share similar ideas and plots all the time! It's just funny, is all but again goes to how the show should have, at least 16 episodes.

Going on to season 3:

1. I really liked Nepenthe but I was also okay with Will and Deanna professing dislike for the planet where Thad lived and died— because sometimes the place where you spent grieving and healing isn’t and shouldn’t be the same place you should be if you’re going to move on from grief. And I doubly agree that Kestra should have been discussed or shown more. This actually reminds me of a Chibnall quote where RTD taught him: It shouldn’t just be “Don’t show, tell” but it should be “Show and Tell”.

But also, Matalas should have really included a line or a scene showing Kestra was safe in the Academy. I don't care how clunky it would have sounded or the scene would've been!

2. Geordi. I love that we see Geordi with Data, Geordi was someone I missed seeing in season 1 of Picard especially in regards to Data's death because as much as Nemesis and Picard s1 & s2 would like to show it— Geordi and Data were the two best friends in TNG. And for the majority of TNG Picard held Data with a certain distance. I didn’t even realize what a missing ingredient Geordi was in Picard until I saw Geordi with Data. LeVar Burton sold Geordi's grief of losing his best friend and the possibility of getting Data back.

Also, I like that Geordi, who was a little, uh, problematic with women (he had a romantic attraction for) grow up and then learn to become a good dad to two daughters. I love that LeVar Burton specifically requested this because he was also not fond of how Geordi was written with women.

3. Beverly. I love Action Beverly and I love Gates McFadden got that, I love that she basically worked in Doctors without Borders under the Mariposa. The medical emergency organization Teresa and Rios set up in the past. But also finally addressing all the ways losing Wesley fucked her up, losing Wesley the way she did was the straw that broke the camel’s back for her. In TNG, losing Wesley was something that was never brought up again but Wesley was a big part of Beverly’s life. (To be clear, Wesley is alive but by the Time Lord-like rules set by the Traveller, Wesley and Beverly can never meet again or communicate). I love that despite not being in Starfleet Beverly still can’t help but want to help people, especially out in the border worlds outside of the Federation. It’s no wonder Seven has heard of Beverly!

I love that she figured out what was happening in the 'nebula' and how her knowledge helped save them, leading to one of the more wonderous scenes in season 3.

4. Ro Laren. But most of all I love that Ro Laren returned— and it’s such a big thing to get Michelle Forbes back, she has famously demurred a lot of attempts to get her to become a show regular. I love the button to Picard and Laren’s relationship which festered on both sides for almost 30 years. The episode where she appeared is possibly my favorite episode of all Picard.

If only money and time weren’t an issue Picard and Laren’s relationship would have been a great foil to Janeway and Seven’s. Or even Laren and Seven interacting would have been so good.

Also, Janeway is the phantom that haunts Season 3 because it feels like Janeway should have been in Season 3. Again, money and time. But man a lot of the plot stuff in season 3 would have smoothed out with Janeway in the show.

5. WORF!

This brings me to Worf, who I adored in season 3 and I am so glad we see how he is doing after DS9. I mourn the loss of Jadzia, and even though she wasn’t named, I can’t help but feel her presence was felt, even Ezri. I feel like the comment about how Worf shouldn’t be passive-aggressive, felt like a very Ezri thing to say.

But as I’ve said before, Jadzia would adore zen, white-haired Worf. She would be with him through this shenanigans. She would enjoy Worf’s mentorship of Raffi! And she wouldn’t even be fazed with Worf waxing poetic about Deanna’s advice. Jadzia would know what Worf meant.

Worf seeing himself in Raffi and truly enjoying Raffi’s company was also such a boon. I love that he passed the torch on being a Klingon badass to Raffi— a non-Klingon.

But also this heads on to one of the things I disliked -- how Raffi's story went in the first episode. I wasn't into how alone Raffi was in scenes. I wish they could have gotten Elnor as a hologram or even Seven-- just so she could bounce off someone else, and maybe even hit on why they broke up.

I do love Worf burning Raffi’s cover. Raffi hated deep-cover work, and it only made her miserable. This way, Starfleet Intelligence won’t be compelled to use her expertise this way again. He’s seen what it's done to Miles O’Brien. But also, it's the Klingon high-handedness at work and I hope Ezri verbally head-slapped him for it.

I loved the idea of a true Borg collective and community, where one becomes Borg by choice in season 2 but its been so divorced from Seven, who could have interacted more with the idea, and the Borg Queen— who had spent, in another life, a large amount of resources to get Seven back and even indulged Seven on occasion.

Season 3 isn’t exempt from this, while I adored Season 3– I do know it wasn't a perfect season and there are things it could improve on.

One of them is that Seven should be more connected to the main bad guy plot than she was. This is where Janeway should have been in the show more because the Hirogen story? Should have been Janeway's story if we are honest, the final blow to the Borg Queen? should have been Janeway's. In a way, Picard was shafted on his own show because those were all Janeway's achievements and not Picard's.

Also, I know that people are burned by the Borg being ever present but I will be sad if they never bring up the Borg in the form of the Jurati Faction of the Borg, the xBs, and some Delta Quadrant Borgs as both allies and threats in Seven's (possible, please god) show.

The Borg is a big part of Seven’s life more than it was Picard’s. I am always a little side eye when the show tries to tell me Picard has more expertise on the Borg than Seven.

So yeah, I hope Seven gets to tackle the tricksy complicated idea of xBs and Jurati Borg.

(/edited)

#thinky thoughts #star trek: picard #picard season 3 #picard s3

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mochiwrites · 1 year

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HELLO KIDN TUMBLR USER MOCHIWRITES i have been thinking about your solar eclipse au for far too logn please enjoy my leftover brain worms

what if proteus was the one to have been smited, to teach solara a lesson. to teach him that all his rebellion does is cause harm to those associated with him. what if solara has to learn to move on, has to live with the guilt that if hed just Shut Up proteus would still be there. still be Alive.

what if solara finally, after years of greiving, notice medea. medea, who has been quietly by his side for millenium, who has grieved alongside him, who was the closest he had ever gotten since proteus to someone who understood? what if, slowly, solara learns to love again?

until he learns of a man down on earth who makes enchanting contraptions, tracks the sun and moon, creates astonishing maps and inventions around the concept of the back and forth between the sun and the moon. and what if solara finds the reincarnation of proteus and is thrown headfirst into confronting his lingering feelings over his counterpart, his soulmate? hes happy with medea, hes moved on, but that ache is still there tugging at him, telling him to just say hello. become friends. nothing more.

and he cant help himself. solara has always been just a little bit selfish. he can keep this a secret to himself for now. hell tell medea one day, but he just wants a bit of time with pr- mumbo just. to himself. for a while.

proteus is gone, but solara can lie to himself just a little bit longer. let himself dwell in the tragic tale of the sun and the moon.

HELLO DEAR ANON !!!!!!

first of all, screams at you???? second of all, cries at you????? /pos GOD THANK YOU FOR THESE BRAIN WORMS THESE ARE DELICIOUS.

solar eclipse au would have hit so different if it was mumbo who was killed, leaving grian and scar behind.... grian being hesitant to welcome scar's comfort because he's frankly terrified of losing anyone the way he did mumbo. but scar slowly works through all of his walls, brings them down....

grian would be notice that he's falling for scar and think two (2) things. #1: oh god am I betraying proteus? #2: what if I lose him too?

and I just imagine this really heartbreaking scene of scar finally letting it slip that he loves grian and grian just.... not handling it well because yes he loves scar too but what if I lose you? I can't go through it again.

anD THEN HE FINDS MUMBO IN THE HUMAN REALM AND WELL THAT JUST THROWS EVERYTHING OFF.

because proteus will always be solara's first love. no matter what. there will always be a part of his heart that belongs to proteus and I think scar understands that (grian will never compare the two of them. he loves them both so much, and they're both equally important to him). so then throw in proteus' reincarnation and well... it's like the wound is opening all over again. and yes, he's very selfish indeed.

he wants them both, of course he does.

and grian keeps mumbo a secret for just a little bit (he does talk to scar eventually, of course. and maybe scar holds him while he cries, but scar understands. but at least grian can pursue mumbo without feeling like he has to choose between them).

#mochi speaks #solar eclipse au #grumbo #scarian #hermitshipping #moon god!mumbo #sun god!grian #god of luck!scar

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mistfallengw2 · 8 months

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I've finished answering to the Commander Love Interest Ask Game (or something idk) because Aurelia and Ellara have been in my mind a lot recently, and I wanted to use these as a jumping point to ramble about them. [link to 5, 6 and 8]

1. Who are they and what's their dynamic with the commander?

Ellara is a veteran Lightbringer of the Order of Whispers, ex-Ash Legion spy and agent, Legionnaire of the Echo warband (until their deaths in Orr/the Battle of Lion's Arch). Other than her independent assistance to Dragon's Watch and her duties in the Order, she specifically works as a double agent for them and Malice Swordshadow, having accepted to be part of a deal of cooperation between the two organizations in spite of her bitter feelings towards the Legion.

The dynamic between her and the Commander was more or less stuck for 8 years as a devoted friendship with messy feelings involved: Ellara fell tail over horns for her quite quickly yet was content with being her friends after being rejected (during Orr campaign), while Aurelia did harbor some shy feelings for her yet for years the concept of romance was too painful to even consider it a possibility (mist-fuckery stuff made it a lot harder to move on from the death of her mate). They both cherished their friendship as it was the closest thing to a warband both of them had, and for two traumatized gladium "widows" in their 30s/40s with a lot going on in their lives and a world to save, it was enough (even though they both knew it would have been better if it was something more). After S4e3 things became a bit more flirty and tentative, but never went anywhere as it was mostly poking fun at each other for the possibility. In IBS (No Quarter), Aurelia finally felt ready and stable enough to give it a chance, much to Ellara's cautiousness and genuine surprise. After that, their relationship remains pretty much unchanged, just with less angst, more comfort and extra perks.

2. How does the rest of Dragon's Watch feel about the relationship?

Overall positive and supportive (more or less everyone knows that Aurelia has some issues with romance, so they only nudge instead of push), with a huge dose of "fucking finally!" when it finally happened. Taimi, Marjory and Canach were the ones who teased the most, Braham and Gorrik were the most oblivious, and for years Caithe thought they were just being secretive about it. And of course Adamas wanted his actual mother to be happy with his "mother figure".

3. What does/what would the general population of Tyria think of the relationship?

After nearly a decade of the Commander being in the spotlight without an apparent partner, people are pretty curious about this charr that entered in her graces, with some being quite jealous or mean about it. Due to the officialization being relatively recent and Ellara being a mesmer of the Order of Whispers, the average Tyrian isn't usually aware of who she is exactly.

4. What was their initial opinion of the commander? Has that changed at all?

"Dayum, that's a hottie" never left Ellara's mind and persists to this day. The only way it changed was from it being the wish for a one-night-stand kind of thing (she had a whole set of issues with commitment after losing her mate) to evolving into genuine feelings towards her.

7. What kind of dumb rumors pop up/would pop up about the relationship?

Before the relationship, most rumors used to be about the fact that the Commander must have someone in her life, and the someone in question switched depending on who people saw Aurelia interact with at the time. Ellara happened to be around Aurelia a lot during the Orr campaign, and the initial influx of gossip between soldiers caused some hurt on the mesmer's part and general awkwardness between them for a time, especially after the Commander rejected her not for disinterest but because she was still grieving. Luckily they got over it pretty soon after the Pact's victory, and overall just stopped paying attention when the rumors got dumber and dumber. There were some nasty rumors, but the truly worst one will never be about them, as nothing could ever beat the time a group of new Pact recruits implied that Adamas was Aurelia's mate after having seen them "hug and cuddle", with it being made even worse by the fact they were having a rough conversation about Aurelia's late mate at that moment.

After it's confirmed they're together, rumors turned into lame gossip that doesn't stick and mostly makes them laugh: "that spy is actually taking advantage of the Commander's position" (El "to do what, exactly?"), "Aurelia is being mind-controlled by her evil mesmer powers" (Au "why didn't you do that? it would have made things a bit easier"), "it's all a facade to keep the Commander's real relationship a secret" (El "when would you have even found the time?"), and so on.

Also, Canach miiight have had a hand in mudding the waters and diverting the attention by spreading rumors about being "the Commander's favorite sylvari" in no clear terms, mostly to further his own agenda, a tiny bit out of pity after seeing Aurelia's reaction to the topic. While at first Ellara confronted him about it in a bout of protectiveness, there have been quite a few occasions in which he interjected awkward situations by acting and presenting himself as Aurelia's "partner" and keeping it vague, and Aurelia actually learned to play along once he came clean about the "scheme". It ended up becoming a sort of inside joke between the three of them, and after Aurelia and Canach went on that triple date together for shits and giggles (encouraged by Ellara), they all had quite a fun evening catching up on the Canthan gossip going crazy about it.

9. How did they/how would they have reacted to the commander's death at Balthazar's hands?

Their groups had split roughly after Glint's Lair: Aurelia had gone with the others to do story stuff, while Ellara had promised her she'd look after Adamas and his group (Mae, Hel, etc) while they were helping refugees, and they were all searching for clues as well when news of Aurelia's death reached her. She initially didn't believe it to be true, then went numb until Adamas's even worse reaction to it managed to rouse her out of the shock. By the time she arrived at the Spire with Adamas and Mae, Aurelia was alive again, and Ellara stared at her from a distance for a bit as canon conversations and tearful interactions happened. When Aurelia approached her after noticing her, Ellara had just a teeny tiny bit of a breakdown that involved a bunch of touching to make sure she was actually alive and some hugging.

She had kept her feelings stashed away since Orr not to put pressure on Aurelia, kinda hoping they'd pass as well, but that moment had made it clear that they were there to stay and stronger than ever. She avoided bringing the topic up until much later in Kourna (had to go report back to base after the end of PoF and was busy with the Order for a bit), when she found her up at night looking at the fortress from the camp's building, and she confessed to her what she had felt that day and that her feelings for her weren't going to change no matter what happened. Aurelia only managed a "I know, and I'm trying [to get over my grief], but…" before Ellara replied with a "I know", bumped her head against Aurelia's shoulder and left.

10. Are there any events in the story that happen differently because of/to/involving them?

Nothing major really changed due to Ellara, at most she does things in Aurelia's stead with a similar outcome (first big case was helping her throughout "Forging the Pact", where she and her warband did a lot of the work in uncovering the fake Syska's plan).

The biggest "change" is that Ellara was tasked with keeping Aurelia away from Drizzlewood Coast until recalled, which ended up being a couple months of "vacation/honeymoon" and overall inactivity (from No Quarter until Jormag Rising). The official reason was that Ellara was just given a leave to recover from injuries sustained shortly before No Quarter, but in practice it was a task specifically assigned by Malice, as she and all other Imperators wanted to avoid another situation in which Smodur would do more questionable acts in the proximity of the Commander and make himself extremely (and rightfully) punchable once again.

11. What parts of the commander do they get to see that nobody else does?

Ellara is the only one (excluding Aurene later on) who has seen just how bad what happened in the Mists affected Aurelia, because she's the one who helped her during many moments of crisis.

Back when they were getting to know each other in the midst of the Orr campaign, Ellara took advantage of all chances to hang out with her, considering them lowkey dates (Aurelia was oblivious to it). At one point, Aurelia lamented issues with her "foggy memories", and Ellara offered to try and use her chronomancer powers to help her clear her mind. Good news was that Aurelia was actually able to recover some of her memories, bad news was that she kinda fell apart afterwards. After the initial surprise (you try seeing such a big and strong charr crumble emotionally like that after you tried to help out), Ellara stuck with her through it and managed to calm her down, realizing at the same time that she actually cared about her as a friend and maybe something more already. The initial awkwardness after that first "session" soon became trust, as Ellara was nothing but genuinely supportive and Aurelia noticed improvements after having had the time to process her newly-rediscovered memories. The Commander didn't exactly share much about what happened in the Mists, and when she did it was mostly rambling since she barely understood it at times, but having someone who listened to her without being taken as crazy helped her connect the dots.

Even after getting awkwardly rejected some time later and being quite sore about it, Ellara understood her reasons and never retracted her help whenever Aurelia needed it. Once Aurene came around and things became easier for the Commander, Ellara's help became increasingly less needed, but Aurelia still sought it out from time to time, though mostly as an excuse to spend time with her and talk about anything.

12. What's a song you associate with the relationship?

Hard to pick just one, so here's a couple of the first ones that I threw in their playlists (both from Ellara's perspective) Autoheart - Hungover in the City of Dust & Mikey Wax - Bottle of Jack

13. In what ways does their personality compliment or contrast with the commander?

Their personalities are pretty different but adverse, more like at the opposite edges of common ground, and they find comfort and balance in each other with little unnecessary contrast.

They both care, feel and hurt more than their world expected from them as soldiers, but while Ellara reacted to it by leaving and deciding to be sharp and cold like a blade in order to protect and preserve that part of herself for those who deserved it, Aurelia had everything taken from her and was stripped down to her vulnerable core by that unimaginable trauma in the Mists, forcing her to rebuild herself as she could once back in Tyria. She didn't do a terrible job at putting her pieces back together into a seemingly functional charr, though not as fierce, rough and sure of herself as before. In the beginning of their friendship, Aurelia subconsciously tried to emulate her self-assurance, seeing her as someone who had successfully taken control of her own life outside of charr society, and when Ellara noticed she was copying her well-kept facade, she was forced to admit some of her own deep vulnerabilities so that Aurelia could avoid becoming a mess like her, while also teaching her what she was looking for. Over time, Aurelia managed to seal her cracks and sharpen her dull edges by herself with her support, while Ellara softened and opened up more thanks to her, and now they're both as well-adjusted as they can be.

Constructive discussions from different points of view aside, their biggest point of "contrast" is the fact that Ellara can be a flirty mean thing when she wants to, and it used to(actually still kinda does) send Aurelia into absolute "brain.exe has stopped working" lesbian panic. While she rarely did it (for obvious emotional reasons), there have been multiple times where Ellara took advantage of it in order to force the Commander to stop overthinking (read: completely scatter every single thought in her head) and breathe (read: lowkey hyperventilate after forgetting how to do it) for a damn second, and Aurelia can't deny it worked every time.

14. What is their favorite quality in the commander?

Her. Difficult choice, but probably her genuine altruism. It's clear as day that it's not performative, because she doesn't like the attention and she's awkward with thanks and compliments yet she does it anyway. The one time Ellara mentioned it, Aurelia only muttered something about it coming from the values of her late warband (in truth the Wing warband would have never been what it had been without her and the unknown promise Ardea had made to her).

It is also her most hated quality, because maybe Aurelia should think about herself for a couple minutes every once in a while. Just maybe.

15. What's the commander's favorite quality in them?

Her cool-headedness and quick mind, probably. It's not the same vibe of Ardea's, softer and sassier at the same time, but it grounds Aurelia just the same.

Aurelia used to be the muscle of the warband and was rarely involved in decision making, and as the Pact Commander she had huge issues with being the one who had to take any sort of decisions for others (especially after the whole fake Syska thing tanked her trust in herself nearly beyond repair), but that was Ellara's bread and butter as the mind of the warband and knew the weight of that role, so she slowly helped Aurelia gain confidence in leadership positions.

#oc asks #Aurelia #Aurelia Dragonwings #Ellara Echodancer #rambles #Mistfallen #yes that is a crappy attempt at merging two screenshots but I love it #your honor I love them

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