[taroet-archive]

⸺    #TAROET.TUMBLR.COM: ‟ Oh, I could call you names now. List a hundred reasons for why you were awful. But what would that do? Where would it leave me? I still loved you. I still have to live with that. ”

This is a private, highly selective & mutually exclusive multi muse blog. With characters from a multitude of fandoms, including but not limited to — The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Percy Jackson, Disney, etcetera. This blog is low - activity & eighteen plus only. Out of character posts will be much more common than in character posts. Penned by Flo(rence), she / they, twenty five, established in late april 2023.

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[taroet-archive]

hey so... i made two new multis (: @leafde is my new main and @taroet holds my tarot muses now! follow me over there if you want. this blog is now an archive <3

[taroet-archive]

i think i may take a tiny break from this blog. i currently hate everything i do, just looking at my blog makes me frustrated, and nothing feels right. i feel like i need a bit of time to revaluate everything and to make this a space i enjoy again. thank you all for your patience ❤️ i promise i'll be back soon!

[taroet-archive]

i'm just actually so so bored of everything on this blog

[gvaine]

3.13 ⋄ The Coming of Arthur

[godsmeet]

he'd been listening to her talking - right until the light hit her in a certain way. something about the sight had tugged at his heart. melted him on the spot. he could chase constellations in her eyes, and he would never tire, nor count all of them. always noticing something new when she was around. there was always more to learn, new features he hadn't memorized yet. more details to love and adore, and the words just slip past his lips. he doesn't mean to interrupt. she was just. so beautiful. he had to say something, had to tell her.

her reaction was precious, the way she blushes, a familiar pink on her cheeks. making scott's heart beat faster in his chest, pumping his blood around even faster than his usual werewolf self. he'd lose himself in her - if he wasn't careful. but honestly? he wasn't sure that getting lost in kira was such a bad idea. he wanted to bury in her oceans, to be the sand blessed enough for her waves to always come back to. always brush against. he wanted to see that spark in her eyes, and maybe.. maybe an actual spark. they'd made the lights flicker once, they could do it again.

"i - i wasn't fishing for a compliment. i just had to tell you, it was like.. knocking on my mind, teasing my tongue. i had to tell you." he wasn't sure either of those things would make sense to her, but then again, he shares her hesitation, glancing down at her hand, thinking hard about how soft and warm it would feel in his own. how they were a perfect fit, the two of them.

so he reaches out and takes it, jealous of the way she brushes her hair behind her ear, he wanted to touch her too. moving his free hand to her jawline, brushing his fingers on her cheek. "i don't remember, i got distracted. sorry." a bit ashamed when he completely forgets where they left off. he was too busy thinking about.. well, thinking about her. it happened to him often. he'd even asked stiles if it was something supernatural, the way he couldn't focus when kira was around. maybe it was something with kitsunes and werewolves, turns out.. he's in love. big time.

[taroet-archive]

The warmth of Scott’s hand against her cheek sent a quiet shiver down Kira’s spine. His touch was gentle, careful, like he wasn’t just holding her— he was memorizing her & for a second, all she could do was stare up at him, heartbeat stumbling over itself, caught between the surprise of it all & the simple, undeniable fact that she liked this. Liked the way he looked at her, like she was something worth stopping for.

She felt the spark before she saw it— just a tiny flicker between their joined hands, barely more than a whisper of energy. It was such a small thing, but it made her breath hitch all the same. Because it wasn’t just static electricity. It wasn’t random. It was her. It was the way he made her feel, like all the energy in her body was drawn to him whether she meant for it to be or not.

Kira swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were, of how easy it would be to just . . . stay like this. “ I— ” She paused, trying to pull her thoughts into something steady. “ I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me the way you do. ” Her voice was quieter than she expected, almost like she was admitting something she hadn’t even realized herself until now.

Scott had always been different. People had called him a True Alpha, a leader, a protector— but to Kira, he was something else entirely. He was the first person who had ever made her feel seen. Not just as a kitsune, or as the new girl, or as someone struggling to figure out who she was. Just . . . her. Kira. Somehow, that was enough for him.

Her fingers curled around his, grounding herself. “ And, um . . . I think I like it. ” She hesitated, searching his face like maybe she’d find some kind of answer there— like maybe he knew the words she was struggling to say. Then, slowly, she turned her face just enough to lean into his touch, letting her eyes flutter shut for half a second. A silent way of telling him she didn’t want him to let go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

[taroet-archive]

@norgodly asked, from [ Maeve Wiley ]:     “ If we were Watson and Holmes, who would be who? ”

Alexa Ravens blinked, surprised by the question. It was the kind of thing Stiles would have asked back in high school— some offhand, nerdy hypothetical that carried more weight than it should. She glanced up from her notebook, where she’d been half-heartedly reviewing notes for an upcoming psych exam & met Maeve Wiley’s expectant gaze. The British girl was stretched across her bed, one socked foot braced against the wall, a book resting open against her stomach. Her expression was unreadable, though there was the faintest glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Alexa smirked. “ You’re actually making me think about this. ”

Her first instinct was to say Maeve was Holmes. It made sense on the surface— Maeve was the brilliant one, the one with sharp edges & a mind that worked three steps ahead of everyone else’s. She had the detached, observational nature down too, always seeing more than she let on, picking people apart with quiet efficiency. People underestimated her because she didn’t advertise her intelligence, but Alexa had learned quickly that underestimating Maeve Wiley was a mistake. But then there was the other side of it. The side that made Alexa hesitate. Because for all of Sherlock Holmes’ intellect, he needed Watson. He needed someone to tether him, to remind him that the world wasn’t just a puzzle to be solved but a place full of people worth caring about. She supposed that was something Maeve had always struggled with. With connection. With letting herself need people.

Alexa pressed her lips together, shifting slightly in her chair. The thing was, she understood that better than most. She’d spent a long time keeping people at arm’s length, convincing herself it was easier that way, that she was protecting them— protecting herself. Even now, with Maeve, there were things she hadn’t said. Things she might never say. Maybe that was why she felt so drawn to her roommate. They were different, but in ways that made sense together. Where Maeve could be sharp & reserved, Alexa was warm, openly protective. But underneath it, weren’t they both just a little bit lonely?

She exhaled, setting her pen down. “ I think . . . ” She trailed off, considering. Holmes & Watson. They were a team, but Watson was the one who told the story. He was the one who stayed, through every impossible case, every disappearing act, every moment of cold detachment. He was the one who reminded Holmes that people mattered. It made Alexa’s smirk fade into something softer. “ I think you’d be Holmes. ” She shrugged, resting her chin in her hand. “ You’re brilliant. You see things most people don’t. You act like you don’t care, but you do— probably more than you should. ” She paused, then added, “ And you can be kind of a dick sometimes. ”

“ I’d be Watson, ” she continued, more certain now. “ Because Watson’s the one who makes sure Holmes doesn’t get lost in his own head. He’s the one who reminds him there’s more to life than just solving mysteries & I think . . . ” She hesitated, her voice quieter now. “ I think I know what it’s like to love someone who’s always on the verge of slipping away. ” There it was, the truth she hadn’t meant to say. It sat heavy between them, woven into the spaces where words failed. Alexa forced a smile, pushing past the weight of it. “ Besides, ” she added lightly, “ Watson gets to write the story & that feels more like me. ” She didn’t say the rest: That she liked it better this way. That she didn’t mind being the one who stayed.

[godsmeet]

his hand gripped her shirt, he held her in his arms - and oh boy, caroline forbes felt weak in her knees. like, if he let go of her right now - she might tumble towards the ground. might awkwardly fall to her knees and embarrass herself in front of him - which was so not cool. she was trying to keep up the appearance that she had the confidence for this. that there wasn't some voice in her head telling her she wasn't good enough for him - that she couldn't be the evolved version of caroline that he liked. that maybe.. she'd slip and everything she'd learned would crumble like a house of cards.

her mind keeps stirring in uncomfortable ways, and she hopes it doesn't shine through her blues as she takes him in. and then he does it, the very thing she needed the most. he kisses her back, just like that. but he doesn't just kiss her back. he initiated the kiss himself. proving to the intrusive thoughts that he does want this too. that it wasn't just in her head. moving one hand from his chest, to touch his face ever so lightly. looking into his eyes and nodding. "so i'm doing A+? that'll be a first. maybe my mom might be proud of me for something anyways then." a small laugh, but it's a little sad still.

leaning closer, resting her forehead against his own, a gentle sigh as she leans in. allowing her weight to settle against his chest. "you're very wise, stiles." she whispers. "you don't just.. yap, just to say something. there's actually thoughts behind it. your brain's a little speedy, but i like it." kissing his cheek before she pulls him in for a hug. mostly because she needs a hug.

"and it like.. doesn't repulse you that i'm a vampire? because that.. is a dealbreaker for a lot of people," her parents included. her mom was slowly coming around, but her dad never did. "i can't really change that fact about myself - and i don't want to. i haven't told anyone else that. but i.. i like this version of myself more. i'm stronger, i'm happier. i believe in myself, and i don't always need other people's opinions of me to be positive - but i still prefer that, let's be real."

maybe she was oversharing - but he had a right to know. she wasn't the chameleon she'd once been. she didn't want to change colors to fit in. she wanted to be a good friend, she wanted to be a good daughter - she wanted to be herself, with everything that includes.

[taroet-archive]

For a guy who had spent a significant portion of his life investigating, researching & generally sticking his nose where it absolutely should not be, Stiles Stilinski had a pretty extensive mental catalog of what people feared. The dark. The unknown. Monsters under the bed or, in their case, in the woods. Losing people. Being left behind. But Caroline Forbes? Caroline wasn’t scared of the things that went bump in the night. She wasn’t scared of vampires, or werewolves, or whatever other supernatural horror show they’d both been roped into. She was scared of something much, much bigger.

Not being enough.

And wow, yeah, if that didn’t just punch him directly in the gut.

He felt her settle against him, warm despite the whole ‘technically undead’ thing & when her forehead stayed pressed against his, when her arms wrapped around him like maybe she needed him just as much as he needed her right now— he squeezed back. Tight. No hesitation. Because if she needed proof that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that she was enough just as she was, he was going to make damn sure she had it.

“ Okay, first of all, ” — he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, brows raising — “ you do realize that I’m, like, a full-time resident of the ‘Trying to Make My Dad Proud’ club, right? I mean, I’ve been the founding member, the president & the guy who makes the tiny, sad participation trophies since forever, so if you ever want to compare notes, I’ve got you. ” His voice was light, teasing, but there was something softer beneath it. Because yeah, he got it. He got it way too well.

“ And second— ” His fingers brushed over the back of her hand, grounding both of them, before he leaned in, lowering his voice like it was some big, dramatic secret. “ Not to completely blow your mind or anything, but I actually like vampires. ” He tilted his head, smirking. “ Well, I like you & since you also happen to be a vampire, the math kind of checks out. ”

But then, because apparently, he had a death wish, he added, “ Although, full transparency? You’re probably the only one I’d let bite me. If we ever get to that stage . . . & if we do, I’d totally want to negotiate terms first because, like, let’s be honest, I’d be a very stringy, low-quality snack. ” He softened then, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“ Care, I don’t need you to change. ” He shrugged. “ Not for me. Not for anybody. Honestly? The fact that you don’t want to is kind of the best thing about you. ” His voice dropped a little, sincere in a way that made his chest feel tight. “ You don’t have to fight to be someone else anymore. You just have to be you. ” A beat passed. Then, unable to help himself, he added, “ Also, for the record, I do occasionally yap just to say something. But thanks for the benefit of the doubt. ”

[altarcup]

@taroet , from here

things had been more-than-normal-weird,  and this time ( 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 ),  it wasn’t all covey’s fault.   teeth worrying at the insides of his cheeks,  minho was just about to 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 when the lock clicked open.      ❛❛  thank god.   i thought you’d died in there.  ❜❜      a mask fell over his face,  𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖝𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖞 replaced by the slight irritation kitty must’ve become accustomed to by now   ‒‒   and he coasted past her through the doorway,  as though the room belonged to him.

      ❛❛  oh, come off it,  covey,  i’d 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 camp outside a girl’s door.   i’m not dae.  ❜❜      it was a bit like 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢-𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑,  hearing those words leave his own mouth.

minho had come to a halt at the centre of kitty’s dorm room,  𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝.   except now,  he was feeling very chalant.   minho turned around slowly,  checking for 𝖆 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓.   he shouldn't have said it in the first place,  but if it came off how he feared it did   ‒‒   p̳l̳a̳i̳n̳ ̳p̳e̳t̳t̳y̳   ‒‒   that would be even worse.      ❛❛  𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐.   just saying . . . i wouldn’t do that.   even if you're the girl.   i have 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 sleep hygiene regimen.  ❜❜ 

[taroet-archive]

Kitty didn’t look up right away. She just closed her eyes for a second, inhaling as if it might steady something inside her. It didn’t. Instead, Min Ho’s words hung in the air between them, thick & a little too sharp around the edges, like a joke that wasn’t really a joke. She knew him well enough to catch the moment of hesitation, the way his usual bravado had wavered for just a split second. Not that he’d ever admit it.

She exhaled slowly, shaking her head before finally turning to face him, arms crossing tight over her chest. “ Wow. You know, for someone with ‘very rigorous sleep hygiene,’ you seem to have a lot of extra energy for breaking & entering level persistence. ” Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no real heat behind it. If anything, she was stalling, letting herself focus on the little details— the way the light caught in his ridiculously perfect hair, the way he was standing too comfortably in her space, like he belonged there. Which was . . . annoying.

Because she was still trying to figure out what exactly this was. This weird, unspoken thing between them. It wasn’t the usual Min Ho banter, the kind that bounced back & forth like a game of verbal tennis. This was different. Tighter. And honestly? She didn’t like it.

“ Besides, ” she added, arching a brow, “ you’re acting like I just left you out there to suffer. It was, like, five seconds. You’d survive. ” A pause. Then, because she couldn't help herself— “ Although, knowing you, you probably would’ve started leaving dramatic voice notes if I took any longer. ”

She meant for it to come out teasing, but her voice betrayed her, dipping into something softer at the edges. She hated that. Hated that her stomach was still twisted up, that even now, even after everything, he could still make her feel like she was on unstable ground.

Kitty huffed, dropping her arms as she turned away again, this time moving to straighten an already-straight stack of notebooks on her desk. A distraction. A flimsy one. But better than standing there, looking at him, letting this — whatever this was — pull at something she wasn’t ready to name. “ So? ” she asked finally, back still to him, fingers tapping lightly against the desk. “ Are you actually here for a reason, or did you just miss the sound of your own voice? ”

[venustrapearch]

moving on is a steep climb. what she thought was moving on some would call avoidance – moving away from home & adapting to a drastic lifestyle change was one step short of changing her identity altogether. but whether she was new york's most infamous workaholic or grandview's very own friendly neighborhood antique enthusiast, it never truly felt like she left that hospital waiting room. in many ways, it feels like she's sitting in it now, hearing every second tick by until melinda inevitably tells her he's gone. her eyes squeeze closed, tear stained cheek gleaming in the morning light as she turns her head away just slightly. she's drifting between completely falling apart & trying to keep herself together long enough to pay attention. to take in his presence, as far from reach as it may be. " i could never forget him. " she keeps him alive in her memory every day. " none of us could ever- " she feels so helpless. it's an image not many are allowed to see. & this time, she reaches for her best friend's hand across the table.

melinda's words feel heavy sinking in, breaking through to her. the heart is stubborn. & it wants her to be selfish. how could she give someone else permission to move on when she can barely stomach it herself ? weary eyes land on the pair looking back at her & she sighs quietly, allowing herself a calming breath. " i don't think i ever... sat & grieved with her. " guilt rears its ugly head, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. " i didn't even try, i just – i wanted my dad. " her breath catches in her throat, struggling not to crumble. " & i know you're right. " words are directed behind her once again. " i know you don't want her spending her life like this. i know i should've talked to her sooner... god, it shouldn't take my dead dad's ghost showing up to get me to break my shitty daughter habits. " she pauses, trying & failing to keep her lip from trembling. words pour out quietly, a decade's worth of regret surrounding them. " i'm sorry, daddy... "

[taroet-archive]

She holds Andrea’s hand, firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment. “ He knows, ” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “ He’s never held any of that against you. ” It’s true— she can feel it in the way his presence lingers, in the warmth threading through the chill that so often comes with spirits who haven’t let go. There’s no resentment here, no anger, just love so big it’s carried itself across years, across realms, just to reach her.

Melinda gives Andrea’s fingers the lightest squeeze, waiting for her to breathe through the weight of it all. “ Grief is messy. It doesn’t follow rules & it sure as hell doesn’t come with a guidebook. ” A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips, but there’s no humor in it. “ You did what you could to survive, Andrea & so did she. ”

Her gaze flickers for just a second, sensing the shift, the way the air hums with the kind of stillness that means something’s changing. He’s listening — of course he is — but it’s more than that. He’s feeling it now too, the way she’s finally saying the words she’s been holding in for far too long.

“ You don’t have to have all the answers right now. You don’t have to be ready at this very moment. But you do have an opportunity. ” Melinda’s voice remains steady, carrying the weight of what she knows Andrea needs to hear. “ He’s not leaving without knowing you’ll at least try. ” She hesitates, just for a beat, before letting the next words come. “ Tell her what you just told him. Let her see this part of you. It won’t be easy, but I promise you . . . neither of you has to do this alone. ”

[ayarn-a-deactivated20250911]

a smile threaten to break across features, head dips & inky black strands fall loosely infront of her face before it fully bloom. of course he'd pick up on that. he has a nack for it, and she is never sure how to he does it. she usually has luck on her side, but he pick up on things she truly wish he didn't notice at time.

eventually does she straighten, but gaze wanders out across the scenery infront of them for a moment, taking it all in as she takes another sip of her wine. " mmm, well, if you keep stepping on my toes, it is quickly revoked, " brow raise as she finally look over at him, and she still can't hide the amusement. perhaps it even show in the way she speak, it lack the usual harsh cut, instead there is almost a playful tenor to it.

and there he goes. off with the overly dramatic antics of his & he earn a heavy roll of eyes as she turn, hip resting against the balcony railing as she simply give him her attention, arms loosely cross over lower abdomen as she watch him work his way through it. if that's what he expects, then it will be far . . . oh, so very far into the future. " i wouldn't hold my breath if that is what you expect of me, " tsks, chin lift ever so little. no, she never truly was the center of attention. one to keep in the background, a silent kind of presence. and she liked it that way, it fits her perfectly. it is where she is the most comfortable.

features soften a little, a breath softly exhaling. " mmhm, " push off after a moment and walk closer, free hand lift & pointy finger tap against his nose. " see, you're catching on fast, "

[taroet-archive]

The tap against his nose startled a laugh from him— soft, quick, the kind that curled at the edges of his grin before he could school his features into something more properly smug. He caught her wrist before she could retreat completely, nothing forceful, just a brief brush of his fingers, a moment held between them.

“ Fast learner, me, ” he murmured, thumb ghosting over the inside of her wrist before he let go, grin still firmly in place. “ Though, you wound me, Aleyah. First, a revoked title & now, no promise of a grand announcement? Truly, you test my resolve. ” A sigh, drawn out & exaggerated, before he gave a thoughtful tilt of his head. “ But, I suppose I can suffer through it. If only because you’re gracious enough to let me in on the secret when the time comes. ”

A step back, just enough space to watch her properly— how the glow of the night painted along her skin, how the weight of her attention always felt heavier than it should, like it settled into the marrow of his bones. He wasn't one for stillness, for lingering too long in moments that asked for patience, but with her? He could manage.

His gaze flickered to the wine in her grasp & he hummed, thoughtful. “ Though, I must ask— are you certain it was me stepping on your toes, or are you just trying to protect your pride? ” A dangerous question, one he knew full well might earn him a sharp glare, but he leaned into it anyway, because he liked how her eyes burned when she was properly alive in the conversation.

“ Because, Aleyah, ” he drawled, stepping just close enough to drop his voice, just enough so she had to tilt her head ever so slightly to meet his gaze. “ I do recall a moment where you were just a little unsteady & if I didn't know better, I'd say you were nearly — nearly — off balance. ”

A flick of his fingers, lazy, careless, before he settled back against the railing, grin firmly in place. “ But I’m generous, you see. I won’t bring it up again. We both know graceful is your brand & I’d hate to tarnish it. ” He lifted an imaginary cup in a mock toast. “ To conveniently forgetting inconvenient truths. ”

[taroet-archive]

@norgodly asked, from [ Rebekah ]:     “ I have a past too. In another place with another name. All I want is to be her again. ”

Bastian stilled. For a moment — just a fleeting one — his expression lost that carefully curated ease, the amusement always lurking behind his eyes like a blade hidden in silk. Then, as quickly as it had slipped, it was back, a slow, knowing smile stretching across his lips. There were many things he could say. Words, after all, were his most dangerous weapon. He could take this confession & wield it against her, press it into the softest parts of her until she bled for him, until she owed him. But something about the way she spoke — so quiet, so exposed — made him hesitate. Just for a moment.

His gaze traced over her, cataloging every detail: the tilt of her chin, the way her fingers curled as if bracing for impact, the flicker of something deep & painful in her eyes. He had seen that look before, over the centuries, in glimpses & half-formed confessions, but she had never said it quite like this. Not with this kind of longing. Another place. Another name.

A part of him, the cruelest part, wanted to laugh. As if she could ever be anything but what she was. As if she could ever be ordinary. But then— hadn’t he once believed the same of himself? The thought soured in his mind. He pushed it away before it could settle, before it could unravel something he had spent lifetimes keeping tightly wound. Instead, he exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to let his fingers ghost along the edge of his glass, the flickering candlelight catching in the amber liquid.

“ You speak as though the past is something one can simply step back into, ” he murmured. “ As though time is a door that can be reopened, its hinges unchanged. ” His eyes flicked to hers, sharp & searching. “ But tell me, my dear— if you were her again, what would that make you now? A ghost of a life long gone? ” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering, pressing into something more intimate. More dangerous. “ You want to be her again. But does she even exist anymore? ” It was not a taunt. Not entirely.

He understood what it was to long for something just beyond reach. To crave a version of yourself that had not yet been touched by blood, by ruin, by the choices that could never be undone . . . & yet, even if he held the power to give her what she wanted — to strip away the centuries, to sever her from the beast inside her — what then? Would she truly be the girl she once was, or just a fractured reflection, wearing a skin that no longer fit?

He could do it. He could make her human. He could press the weight of that promise against her ribs until she broke for him, until she clung to him in desperation, whispering all the things he already knew but wanted to hear again & again & yet . . . Bastian reached for his glass, swirling the contents idly. “ You forget, Rebekah, ” he said after a moment, voice laced with something too soft to be mocking, but too sharp to be comforting. “ I have known you for a very, very long time. ” He smiled, but there was something unreadable in it. “ And I have never met this girl you speak of. ”

He took a sip, savoring the burn. Because he was lying. He had seen her, once. Long ago. And she had been beautiful.

[masongooning]

EMILIO SAKRAYA as JC in Netflix’s Warrior Nun (1x01)

[taroet-archive]

the pages for my major arcana muses are actually done now

[godsmeet]

their life? had never been happier. it was one life, theirs. theirs and their two kids, a daughter and a son. the same kids who's laughter were echoing from one of the other rooms of their house, alongside the barks of a golden retriever who was most likely also having cinnamon buns from the kitchen. he loves couldn't really be bothered with that, not in this moment with the most beautiful woman in his grasp. quick to pull her into his arms, somewhere music was playing - the song didn't have a specific meaning to them, but skye had all the meaning. it was plenty of meaning to have her in his arms. dancing her around, and she was right. he was feeling so nostalgic.

"i'm just.. really happy," he speaks. voice thick with emotion, eyes getting teary at the thought of everything they had to fight through to get here - but they did it. they did the impossible, they weathered the storm. they fought a brave war, and they got their happy ending. an ending with kids, a dog, a house and their friends and family. at least the ones who were left. sucking in a deep but slightly pained breath as he leans closer to the love of his life.

her head rests right where it belongs, making it easy for the father and husband to press his lips to the top of her head. "thank you, skye." he whispers. "thank you for always bringing me home, for giving me endless hope in the dark. thank you for being my search and rescue when i've pushed everyone else to the edge. you've always been my life line, and i just.. i love you more than anyone. more than anything. i can't ever - i'll never be able to really, truly put it to words."

[taroet-archive]

Skye felt the warmth of his breath against her hair, the unspoken weight behind his words settling deep in her chest. For a moment, she didn’t move, just stood there in the quiet space between heartbeats, between then & now, between all the things they had endured & all the things they had built. His voice was thick with emotion, the kind that spoke of years of battles fought— against the world, against fate, against himself & yet, here they were.

Her fingers curled gently into the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself in the reality of him, of this. Of a life that was no longer slipping through her fingers like it once had. “ You don't have to say it, ” she murmured, voice hushed but sure. “ You show me every day. ” She leaned back slightly, just enough to lift her head, to look at him the way she always had— like he was something meant to be cherished, something she would choose again & again, in every life, in every version of the universe.

The soft glow of the evening caught in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold & Skye swore she could see the echoes of every promise they had ever made reflected back at her. Her smile was quiet but unwavering. “ You don’t have to thank me, Stefan. Not for this. Not for loving you. ” She brought a hand to his face, her thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone, the way she had done a thousand times before. “ You are my home. You always have been. ”

The laughter from the next room rang out again, bright & boundless, a reminder that happiness was not just something they had found, but something they had created. The weight of grief & history still lingered in the spaces between them, but it did not define them. Not anymore. Pressing onto the tips of her toes, she kissed him— soft & slow, not as a distraction from the past, but as proof of the future they had chosen. When she pulled away, she let out a breath of something that felt like contentment, her forehead resting against his. “ Now, ” she whispered, a teasing lilt creeping into her tone, “ are you going to keep getting sentimental, or are we actually going to dance? ”

[godsmeet]

the feelings of jealousy had snuck up upon her - kind of like stiles himself. and that didn't make it easier to deal with. maybe she should've just asked him, which felt a little silly now with his words, but the fear growing in her had been a red light, a do not cross, do-not-speak kind of thing. so she taps his foot back with her own, the little nudge working in the exact way he'd expected it to. like a grounding kind of thing, and she could breathe a bit easier now. giving him a small smile when her eyes finally meet his own.

"i would love to cancel my super secret other thing that was way more fun - all to hangout with my best-boyfriend-ever instead. if that's alright?" placing her hand on the table, palm upwards in case he wanted to hold hers. "i just.. i never had something all mine. and now i have you, and i'm so scared of losing you again." shaking her head a bit, a single tear rolling down her cheek. mouth twisting from the pain she felt eating her up from inside.

"i didn't use to have anxiety like this. once upon a time i was on top of the world - but no one really knew me back then. it was less risky, you know? not getting too involved with anyone. there was the girls, of course. they knew more than the rest. but girls like elena and bonnie.. they don't leave you. but boys do leave you for them." she muses with a small smile. she was happy for her friends, she'd learned that by now. she could be happy for someone, while still being sad for herself.

like how she was sad for the old caroline, but so happy for this version. "i'm sorry i overreacted. i probably.. i'll try and talk to you next time. or maybe i'll just walk up to you and kiss you with so much tongue we'll both be expelled and no girls will ever touch you again. that sounds like a sound plan to me."

[taroet-archive]

He doesn’t even hesitate— his hand is in hers before she’s finished speaking, fingers curling around her palm like it’s second nature. Because it is now & yeah, there’s that small, sad smile she does when she’s trying to make light of something that actually hurts & there’s that tear slipping down her cheek that makes his chest ache because, god, he hates seeing her like this. Hates knowing that some part of her still expects to lose him.

“ Hey, no— none of that, ” he says, shaking his head as his thumb brushes over the back of her hand. “ You don’t need to apologize for feeling things, okay? Believe me, I get it. Maybe not the whole heightened vampire emotions thing — because, you know, human — but the overthinking, the worst-case-scenario brain? Yeah, that’s kind of my specialty. ”

He watches her carefully, searching her face, hoping she really hears him. “ But, Caroline, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to be scared of losing me, because you’re not going to. You think you’ve never had something that was all yours? Well, you are mine & I am yours. No expiration date, no fine print, no ‘until something better comes along’— just us. ”

He gives her hand a small squeeze, letting the words settle between them before a slow smirk tugs at his lips. “ And, as much as I appreciate the, uh, very bold kissing strategy — because, honestly, I wouldn’t hate it — I’d rather not get expelled. Pretty sure that’d put a dent in our date night plans. ” He leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to be playful. “ But if you really want to stake your claim, I’m totally on board with the public make-out agenda. Just, you know, maybe not in front of a faculty member. ”

[taroet-archive]

@norgodly asked, from [ Alex Karev ]:     “ I said exactly what I meant: I love you. ”

The words landed between them, heavy with a finality that made Izzie feel like the walls were closing in. She had imagined him saying those words before. Once, she had lived for them— back when love had been easy, back when they had whispered it in on-call rooms & between surgeries, back when the future had seemed like something they could mold in their own hands. But now, in the quiet hum of the hospital, in the wreckage of everything that had happened, love wasn’t easy. It wasn’t a whispered promise. It was something raw & aching, something that didn’t feel like a beginning so much as another painful question she wasn’t sure how to answer.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, pressing her fingers into her elbows as if bracing for impact. “ Alex . . . ” She barely got his name out. It felt foreign in her mouth, like something she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say anymore. The hospital lights above them buzzed softly, too bright, too sterile, as if mocking the weight of the moment. The scent of antiseptic & blood still clung to the air, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself it was gone. Maybe the walls still remembered the screams. Maybe she did too, even though she hadn't been there. Even though they hadn't been her own.

She had come back for him. That much she was sure of. When she heard about the shooting, when she imagined him lying in a hospital bed, bleeding, barely holding on— she hadn’t thought, she had just moved. She had told herself it was just to check on him, to make sure he was okay. But that lie had unraveled the moment she stepped through those doors & saw the haunted look in his eyes, the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was watching, the way exhaustion clung to him like an old wound. She stayed because leaving hadn’t been an option.

She stayed for Meredith, who had been too busy trying to keep her husband alive to let herself grieve for the child she had lost. She stayed for Cristina, who walked through the halls like a ghost, smiling & flirting & pretending like she hadn’t stood frozen with a gun pointed at her head. She stayed for Bailey, for Derek, for the people who had been left standing in the wake of something they would never be able to fully outrun. But mostly, she stayed for Alex . . . & now, here they were, standing on opposite sides of something she wasn’t sure how to bridge.

“ I don’t know if I can believe that, ” she whispered. Saying it out loud hurt more than she expected. Alex had never been the kind of person to say things he didn’t mean. He was blunt, sometimes cruel, always honest to a fault. But there had been too many goodbyes between them, too many breaks that had never fully healed . . . & love— it wasn’t just words. It was something steady, something unshakable & they had never been anything but fragile.

Alex looked at her, steady & unwavering, like he had already decided this was something he wasn’t going to let her run from. She knew that look. She had seen it before— the night she lay dying in a hospital bed, the night he had promised he wouldn’t leave. He had meant it then. Maybe he meant it now. But love had never been their problem. Their problem was whether or not they could survive it.