#'cause quite frankly i'm at a lost for words here

[thesmokinpossum]

you know, seeing a bunch of boys and men pushing that "your body, my choice" bs since the election didn't surprised or even disturbed me that much. As disgusting as it is, it's very much what I expected and I pretty much just feel numb about the whole thing. On the other hand, seeing girls and women posting selfies and tiktok with "my body, your choice" DOES fuck with me very bad on many levels

[primofate]

Is it a crime to post unfinished drafts? It's been sitting for 2 years already. I'm letting this one go.

Genshin Series - The sides of him only you get to have and see Part 5: Angry/Frustrated [All male characters]

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Soft and Gentle) (Part 2 - flustered) (Part 3 - clingy) (Part 4 - Worried)

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, depending on the prompt, lots of different scenarios, some protective, some a bit yandere, some aggressive... quite long cause i got carried away >_>

Personal favourites in this work: Ayato, Bennett

Aether

When his investigation about his sister’s whereabouts turns up into a dead end

“...What if I never find her?” His voice is just a whisper as the two of you sit side by side around the campfire. Paimon is already sleeping off to the side, exhausted by the day’s events. 

You can hear the desperation in his voice, and it cripples you as well, the hurt that comes with losing a loved one and being unable to find them. You let yourself fall sideways and lay your head on his shoulder, hoping to give him some comfort. “...We’ll keep looking, Teyvat’s a big place, you know,” you whisper and it seems that your answer only serves to frustrate him more.

“That’s exactly the problem... Sometimes I don’t know where to start and I don’t know where to look first... I just...” His fists clench for a moment but he relaxes with a small sigh minutes later, arm wounding around your back to pull you closer to his side. “Sorry... I don’t mean to complain so much,” 

You shake your head as you bask in his warmth. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Aether. I’m right here beside you, okay?”

His gaze softens, head leaning towards the crown of your head to place a kiss there. “Thank you, Y/N,” he wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you as well.

Albedo

When someone is too rough with you.

Could he request you not to work at the tavern? Possibly, yes. But Albedo was not the type to tie you down or tell you what to do. Plus, you were capable of taking care of yourself. 

Sometimes he would pick you up from your shift, however, today the Cat’s Tail was a little understaffed and you had to work a few more orders before you could go. 

“Hey!” You jump as one tavern-goer stands and smashes his glass of beer on the table with a loud THUD. “This isn’t what I ordered!” Frankly you were used to this by now, but it didn’t mean that you were any less startled. You calmly walked over to the table and took back the mugs that you just placed when the same person grabs your wrist.

The mugs sway in your hand, the beer in it pouring over your fingers a little as it sloshed. “Sir?” You ask as the man’s hand tightens around your wrist. 

The man grunts and growls “Make sure you tell the bartender to give me a discount for giving the wrong order!” Drunkards were like that. They were loud and sometimes couldn’t control themselves, you twist your wrist away successfully and relay the message to the bartender, though you noticed that Albedo was there too, waiting for you to come back. 

Albedo catches your arm and lifts your wrist up to eye level. There’s a blank look on his face that you can’t quite read and for a moment his eyes dangerously flicker to the group of tavern-goers who gave you trouble. You sense that he’s a little irked. “It’s okay ‘Bedo, I’m fine, just the usual rowdy people, you know?” You reassure him and his stern face drops, replaced by that of defeat with a small sigh.

It’s “just the usual” you say. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about that, if this was “usual”, yet he understood. Every job came with its risks and this was already relatively safer than being an adventurer. Albeo sighs again and brings your wrist up to his lips, his eyes yet again dart towards the said table. He really wanted to have a word with those rude men, but he avoided conflict for your sake. 

“Alright, Y/N. As long as you keep your promise,” he reminds you. Jogging your memory that you had promised to tell him if something dire really happens at work.

Ayato

When his status affects you

You’re aware that ever since you and Ayato were married, his shuumatsuban had also been following you around. Ayato reassured you that it was for your own good, and you somewhat agreed. You weren’t that bothered by it, since the shuumatsuban were so good at concealing their presence, it seemed like nothing changed in your every day routine.

“Master Ayato,” and so imagine Ayato’s annoyance when he receives a report from one of his men that you were being tailed by someone suspicious. “...Capture him,”

In the secret dungeons of the Kamisato residence, there is a pitiful man sitting in the middle of a cell with bars. Kamisato Ayato stands in front of him, cold and calculating look on his face. “State your reason for tailing Y/N,” he would break this man quick, and get all the answers he needed for your safety.

“I-I-I swear I’m not a bad guy! I just--Someone told me they’d pay me a huge amount of money to kidnap Y/N!” Ayato doesn’t break his cold gaze from the man, but he also can’t control the way he unsheathes his sword and starts to clean it with a cloth, as if getting ready for an execution.

“Then for your own good I suggest you give me all the names of these people who bribed you,” His tone is calm, but also eerie. “After that’s done, you won’t lay your eyes on Y/N again... Is that understood?” 

He couldn’t afford for anything to happen to you, specially not when it was because of him.

Bennett

When his bad luck affects you

Bennett had been quiet the whole way back to Mondstadt. As per usual a few things happened that proved his luck was horrid. 

Today seemed to be one of the worst.

Not only did you not finish the commission given to you, but things happened one after the other.

First, the two of you couldn’t find the monster you were looking for. Second, when you finally found it, it proved to be difficult to subdue. Third, the treasure the two of you found was not really treasure at all. Fourth, you could not find the item that you were supposed to bring back to town and finally, fifth, a once wonderful, cloudless and breezy day suddenly turned glum and the rain poured down on your heads.

Bennett was utterly defeated, and you knew it cause he had been quiet up until the gates of Mondstadt, when the two of you finally took shelter for a moment from the rain. He usually would still be upbeat and positive, no matter what he went through, but seeing you sneeze and shiver in the rain, on top of being tired and grimey, he really couldn’t help but hate his bad luck.

You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, he was looking at the ground with his brows furrowed. The look of frustration was foreign in his face but you said what you always did after an adventure with him. “...Today was fun, Bennett. Let’s go again tomorrow!”

His head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide and tracing your face for any lies and dishonesty. All he saw was your bright smile and eager disposition. Truthfully you had learned to be incredibly positive because of him, and if he needed a little bit of that positivity, then you were willing to give it back, no matter how hard things were.

For a split second his lips looked as if they trembled, his shoulders relaxed and a wobbly smile appears on his face. He nearly barrels into you with a hug, and mumbles “You’re the best Y/N,”

Bennett always thought that you were his sun, and he loved every bit of the time he spent with you.

Chongyun

When he isn’t able to protect you

“’Yun?” You call out from your sitting position on your bed, and Chongyun, for the umpteenth time that day, slightly jerks up on the chair next to you, eyes darting towards your face. 

“Hm?” he says, trying to brush off the fact that he had been zoning out, small, shy smile on his face.

You’re silent for a moment, staring back at him. The cogs in your mind working a bit more. “...You’re upset aren’t you?” 

The way he tenses up at your accusation tells you the answer, but still he denies it. “N-No,” 

You sigh, your bandaged arm resting on your side. The wound didn’t hurt that much, but Chongyun was the one who insisted he’d feed you instead of making you use your dominant, injured arm. He was so embarrassed when he offered it. Face red and unsure what to say except that he was holding the bowl of porridge your mother made in his hands and that was enough of a cue for you. 

“...Aah,” You open your mouth again, and that’s when Chongyun snaps out of it, realizing that he hadn’t even finished feeding you. So he proceeds to give you another spoonful. 

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” You confirm after you swallow that bite and he again tenses up without saying anything. 

You knew he hated it when the two of you went adventuring together and you ended up getting hurt. Occasionally it would be him with the injury, but when you got injured, somehow, to him, it was a graver matter than him getting hurt. 

That statement opens his dam of insecurities. “I’m too weak...If I had been a little faster...”

“I must be pretty weak too then, if I wasn’t even able to dodge it,” you counter and you see him open his mouth in protest but close it again, knowing that you had laid a trap for him if he disagreed. He went silent again. 

“...I think you’re really cool Chongyun, the way you handle your claymore makes you look really handsome,” you giggled a little cause you knew he was going to go red and sputter out a response. 

“W-W-What do you mean?” He proceeds to shove another spoonful in your face, probably so that you wouldn’t actually be able to reply. “A-Anyway...I...I’ll work harder to protect you,” he finishes his sentence and you don’t protest nor say another thing anymore, seeing as he at least got some of his good mood back. 

Dainsleif

When you don’t keep a promise

“You said you would meet me by the tree in Windrise. Imagine my distress when you didn’t show up,” Dainsleif had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes actually glaring at you. 

“I know but you know how things can get. The job was a little more difficult than expected and it took longer to finish,” 

You’d found yourself trudging deep through the forest to locate the cabin he considered his “home”. Far away from everything else and nearly impossible to locate if you had never been there before. You arrived by morning, knocking at his door and unsurprised with the dumbfounded look on his face. 

He still welcomed you in, but he didn’t say a word and the air was tense even as he placed a glass of water on the table for you. 

Then you were here, getting the lecture from him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have promised to be there. It’s a simple thing to communicate with me that you’re not sure when you’ll be done, I would have waited,” He continued and you sighed, cause you knew that he was right. You really shouldn’t have promised you were going to be there on time. It’s not as if it’d be the end of the world if you were a day or two late. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted to see you as soon as I could and I wasn’t thinking,” you should’ve known by now that promises were a heavy thing to Dainsleif. 

You heard him give out one of his own sighs and then his hand cups your chin and tilts it up to meet him eye to eye. “I trust you understand why I’m angry,” his voice had levelled down a little, and though he was frustrated earlier you can always see the worry behind his gaze and the love in his eyes. 

You smile a little and nod your head, still a little apologetic. “If I can’t find you, if you happen to go missing, do you know what that would do to me?” He asks you, eyes finally dropping the glare and just softly gazing at you.

“I know,” you whisper and lean your face closer to his hand. Your arm reaches out to hold his coat, tugging on it a little as if a small child. “...I know you weren’t able to sleep...and I spent the whole night trying to make it back to you...so can we rest for a bit?” You suggest and he found it a good idea.

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms and kisses your forehead, bringing the two of you into the bedroom.

Diluc

When you forget to tell him where you’re going and he doesn’t know where you are

“Adelinde, did Y/N mention skipping dinner today?” Diluc asked his head maid. He was alone at the dinner table and you were nowhere to be found in the mansion. 

Adelinde considered her words carefully. A slight misuse of words would send the young master into a spiral of worry and anxiety. She was a hundred percent sure you had just forgotten to tell someone that you were going to be out for dinner, because you’ve done it before, bless your bad memory, but Adelinde really wished you would at least tell the young master. 

“...They didn’t mention, Master Diluc...but I’m sure they must be out on some errands in Mondstadt,” it was a gamble for Adelinde to state that, because she also didn’t know where you were, and she would be in deep trouble if you didn’t come home at all.

Diluc started to eat, albeit slowly and glanced at Adelinde when she made that statement. “...Did they mention going on an errand?” he asked again, to which Adelinde now had to truthfully reply. “...No,” 

Cue the distress in Diluc’s features. Furrowed brows, cutlery not even moving, eyes calculating. You could practically see all the assumptions run through his face. Maybe you were in trouble, maybe you were taken, maybe you were lost somewhere and needed help. You would have said something if you were going to be home late, no? 

Diluc dropped his cutlery on the table, and he started going back through his memories to determine whether or not you actually had said anything about today. He would have remembered, and as far as he could tell, you didn’t say anything about not having dinner with him today, or anything of the sort.

He was about to push himself up and away from the table, to double check at Mondstadt if anyone had seen you, when the front door opened, revealing you with a basket of goods and a smile on your face. Diluc practically deflated, your name a sigh on his lips, “Y/N,” 

You knew that look, and you knew that look that Adelinde was giving you. “Oh Archons. I’m sorry, I went out in a hurry and just forgot to tell anyone where I was going,” your smile dropped almost immediately as you scurried over to the table with an apologetic gaze on your face turned towards Diluc.

You knew how worried he could get, he could already feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him, thinking about all the worst case scenarios. Diluc sighed once again, repositioning himself properly in front of the table and picking up his cutlery again. He was slightly angry, you could tell. Mostly because this wasn’t the first time it had happened. “...Put your things down and we can eat,” he simply said and you pouted a little while passing the things over to Adelinde, then sitting on your side of the table.

“...I don’t get my welcome back kiss?” You chide him playfully, to which his eyes lazily graze over you and back to his plate of food.

“When you start remembering to tell someone where you’re going in the middle of the night, I’ll start giving you your welcome back kisses,” he strictly exclaims and you could only grumble under your breath.

Gorou

When he spends too much time training or working and loses time with you

“Hahhhh...” Gorou plops down on the tatami floor of his home with a loud and long sigh. Not only was training and the patrols a little harsh today, but that was another day gone without getting to see you.

How long had it been now? Eight, nine days? He was starting to get really antsy about not being able to see you and he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. 

That night he couldn’t immediately fall into a peaceful sleep. He tossed whenever he thought of you and turned whenever he started thinking too much of what the two of you would do together the next time you saw each other. It was like planning out a whole date in his mind but realizing that he didn’t even have any day offs soon. So he would deflate and be disappointed in himself, try to go to sleep, then get carried away thinking about you again, causing him to snap his eyes open and repeat the thinking process.

“Arrghhh!” At some point he shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight, the frustration getting to him. He had to sleep, or he’ll have a really tiring day tomorrow. 

When he woke up the next morning to knocks on his door he immediately thought he had overslept. He scrambled to his feet, swinging the door open with his still disheveled fluffy hair and said “I-I’ll be right there! I just--” then he reels back, blinking, realizing that it was you standing there are the door. “Y-Y/N?! What’re you doing here?”

He smooths his hair down, tries to pat down his wrinkly house clothes but his eyes are tacked on to you, wide and happy. 

“I figured I’d visit you this time, since you seem really busy,” you laugh sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “I hope I’m not intruding,”

“Of course not!” He replies quickly but coughs on his hand right after. “I-I mean. Yeah, you’re always welcome here,” he smiles and beams at you, but then slumps his shoulders right after. “I...I still have work though, so I won’t be able to spend a lot of time with you...”

You shake your head and wave your hands “That’s alright! I can still spend lunch and dinner with you, right? That’s more than enough for me,” 

His heart blooms with a warmth that engulfs his body, his cheeks might have turned red. You were just oh-so sweet to him and oh-so kind, he didn’t know what he did to deserve an angel like you.

Heizou

When he can’t help you with your problems

Heizou is a genius at solving problems, but he knows that sometimes there are problems that he can’t solve nor he shouldn’t interfere with. One of those was problems within your family.

Sure, he had solutions and probably ways to diffuse the rising tensions in your family, but he wasn’t really in the right place to do so. All he could do is listen to you rant and complain about how things are getting so much harder with your mom and dad, and you just wanting to run away from it all, move out as soon as you can but you were tied down with the obligation of caring for your sick mother. 

It pains him and frustrates him, watching you stress over it day by day, but as much as he wanted to tell your parents that they were affecting you this much, there are some things that he shouldn’t meddle with. 

All he could do was offer advice. “...Perhaps move out and live somewhere close to them? It would still give you the advantage of privacy,” he suggests, as he sits next to you on a bench, arm coming around and behind your back, hand resting on your hip.

“I would, but the houses nearby are actually pricey, mostly because they’re family houses, not for a single person rent,” You lean sideways into him. He’s always so good at giving you solutions, though you’re unaware of the internal battle inside him, seeing you so distraught like this.

“...Well why not live with me then?” You can hear that familiar mischief in his voice, and though you know he’s joking it still flusters you. 

“D-Don’t say that as a joke, Heizou!” He chuckles at your reaction, just as he expected, but he leans in to place a kiss atop your head, his next sentences sending a shiver up your spine. “It’s a joke now, but someday I’ll make it real, regardless of what your parents say,”

Of course he ends it with a wink.

Itto

When someone hurts you and he witnesses it

Itto doesn’t get angry easily. He just doesn’t have the capacity for it. He was loud, yes, but good natured overall and never means any actual harm to anyone. 

Unfortunately you can’t say the same thing about some people in Inazuma. For the most part, people were friendly, amicable, helpful...but sometimes there were the odd balls that just appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc when they wanted to.

Just the other day a group of ronin who claimed to be the strongest group of vagabonds roaming Inazuma entered town and they were loud and gruff about it. “Where’s the best inn in town?” They asked at the entrance, and a kind man directed them towards it.

The next day that man was bullied by the same ronin. “We said the BEST inn in town, not the most EXPENSIVE!” You had witnessed it, the man who was just trying to help them was starting to cower backwards, the ronin were complaining about the price of the room, how they wanted the man to pay for it and you just couldn’t stand that blatant bullying.

“What’s your problem? Of course it’s going to be expensive!” You appeared behind the group and just couldn’t help but be angry at their stupidity and overall disgusting behaviour. One of them looks at you, then starts to laugh and the others follow suit, all laughing at you as if you were a clown on the streets.

You didn’t falter and merely crossed your arms above your chest. “If you have nothing better to do then maybe you should look for a job so you can pay for your next inn,” was provoking them a good idea? Of course not, and you knew that.

One of the ronins grabs you and twists your arm behind your back. You could only let out a whimper at the sudden motion but as soon as it happened it was over. You found yourself suddenly pushed behind, looking at Itto’s back as he shoves the ronin away with a harsh force. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing touching Y/N like that?!” Itto’s voice is loud, louder than when he’s excited about eating ramen or louder than when he’s discovered a magnificent onikabuto. The anger in his voice is unusual, you don’t immediately recognize it as his.

Itto’s tall. Taller than any of the ronin around you and suddenly it’s as if the ronin become meek little mice, stepping away from him and you. “W-We were just--”

Itto brandishes his claymore, “Less talking, more fighting. You want a real arm wrestle? Come at me,” you can’t imagine what kind of face he’s making, but the ronin--actually just cowards--runs at the sight of Itto’s weapon and he’s just about to go after them when you call out to him, telling him to calm down.

He doesn’t listen easily, but you place a hand on his arm and he stops, still glaring and huffing at the sight of those stupid ronins running away. 

Scaramouche

When you have to be paired up with another Harbinger for work

“You’re going with who?” There’s poison dripping from his voice, but you’re so used to his antics by now that it doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Tartaglia. The Tsaritsa said--”

“Fuck what the Tsaritsa says,” Scaramouche cuts you off. “You’re not going with that fool,” He stands and paces back and forth now. You simply sit at the table and watch him, knowing that he’s going to throw one of his “tantrums” again. “Possibly the worst person to go on a mission with,” he continues to grumble, now biting on his thumb.

“You always get worked up whenever the two of us are paired up together. It really isn’t that bad,” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders and he stops walking to glare at you. 

“So it’s a little bad? Is that what you’re insinuating?” He doesn’t let you finish and adds. “You don’t know how dangerous he is,”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh quite obviously. “Scara, I think you’re more dangerous?”

Tartaglia

“I’m different,” He mumbles under his breath.

When his alone time with you gets interrupted

Thoma

When you get sick but he’s busy

Venti

When he hasn’t seen you in days

Xiao

When he wants you to stay

Xingqiu

When a book he’s reading isn’t as good as he thought it would be

Zhongli

When someone doesn’t respect your boundaries

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[zoofzoofxx]

“OH MY GOD THAT’S JOOST KLEIN!”

(Pt. 2)

Pairing - Joost Klein x fem!reader

Summary - Following an attempt to ignore Joost and act as though nothing had happened, you both meet on a rainy day while waiting for the bus. He offers you a ride but first takes you out for a dinner and shows you the beauty of Amsterdam at night.

Genre- fluff, maybe little bit of angst.

Mentions - @dozcan123 , @multifilmfan & @mrschandlerbing

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About three months back, something went down with Joost Klein. We chatted at first, but then I got busy, and Joost wouldn't quit trying to get in touch. I brushed off his messages until I finally blocked his number. After that, he stopped trying to reach out on other social platforms. I felt a bit guilty, but I figured he probably moved on. Sometimes I thought about unblocking him and telling him how I felt, but when I saw he was into Eurovision, I hesitated. 3 weeks ago, he dropped a track called Europapa, and it blew up. The song brought back memories of Joost, making me consider going to Eurovision with my sister. Lost in thought, a message from my best friend Zofia interrupted me, signaling her arrival. We decided to grab a drink and catch up, with Zofia's unexpected entrance and our trip to a nearby bar helping clear my head.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 3 hours later ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

I checked my bus app to see when my bus will arrive. I still had 35 minutes left but the walk wasn’t short so basically I already should be on my way. I escorted my best friend to her place; she was completely wasted, and so was I. It was the usual routine - she'd get super drunk, I'd have to take her home, and then make sure I got back to my flat safely at night. I glanced at my friend before asking if she could at least get ready for bed and sleep. She agreed, closed the door, leaving me alone. I turned on maps to find the nearest bus stop direction, and just as I did, a few raindrops fell on my screen, signaling the impending rain. And sure enough, it started pouring. I began to run, and as I was about to cross the street, a car came speeding towards me, honking loudly, nearly hitting me. Shocked, I turned around, not knowing what to do. The car was already gone, so I tried to forget the scary moment and went to sit on the bench at the bus stop just a few steps away. Sitting there, rain pouring down on me as there was no roof over the bench, I stared at the ground, hoping the bus would arrive soon, even though I still had 10 more minutes to wait in the cold rain.

“Y/n?” A low male voice with a pronounced Dutch accent addressed me. I turned looked up to find a recognizable individual standing directly in front of me. I was taken aback by the sight of him drenched from head to toe, standing there as confused as I was.

"Joost?" I uttered, rising to my feet and adjusting my coat. An extended pause ensued, with neither of us certain of how to initiate this dialogue.

"It was you crossing the street? Please be more cautious next time," he began, causing my eyes to widen in surprise.

"I apologize." I glanced aside and then back at him. He appeared altered. His hair had brightened notably, nearly reaching a platinum blond tone. His demeanor was grave. It seemed like he wasn't content to see me, and frankly, I wasn't excited either.

"How are you?" Were the only words that escaped my lips.

"I'm good. Have you been drinking?" He inquired, moving a bit closer, though there was still a noticeable gap between us. I caught a whiff of his cologne once more. It was the same scent from three months back when he assisted me in zipping up my jacket.

"Tipsy, not drunk," I corrected him, settling back onto the bench, which was once again damp. I glanced down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed.

"I can catch a whiff of the alcohol from here," he remarked, and I simply pouted, unsure of how to respond. He moved closer and settled beside me. Our shoulders brushed together. In a sudden impulse, I rested my head on his shoulder, shutting my eyes and relishing the moment. It dawned on me how much I had missed Joost.

"Y/n, do you want a lift?" Joost interrupted my thoughts. I hesitated a lot, unsure if I should say yes or no.

"Sure." I say standing up. He stood up as well, and I just followed him. It was a 1-minute walk until we arrived at the car I almost got hit by. I sat in the passenger seat and inhaled the scent, Joost's specific cologne mixed with cigarettes. I yawned, leaning on the window. He started his car, and we drove through the city. There was complete silence between us until there was a loud growl. I covered my stomach with my arm and started to daydream about what I would eat when I arrived home.

“What are you doing?” I inquired as Joost made a sudden right turn.

“I’m starving, do you like McDonalds?” He asked and I furrowed my brows.

"I suppose so, but I've got some food at home, so I'll decline," I replied, earning a chuckle from the blonde guy.

"Ha, that's totally a classic mom move: 'We've got food at home,'" he mimicked, leading to a moment of silence as we both pondered our next words.

"It's on me." He stated, breaking the silence as he parked his car in the parking lot and switched it off.

"Please," he uttered, casting me those identical pleading eyes as during our initial encounter. Exhaling deeply, I release my seatbelt and unlatch the car door.

"Macdonalds around midnight just hits differently," Joost remarked as he savored his first bite of the Big Mac.

"Would you like some?" He inquired, flashing me a comforting smile.

"Thanks, but I'm good," I replied, smiling back, enjoying my chicken nuggets. I noticed Joost eyeing them, so I pushed the box towards him and nodded, signaling he could give them a try.

"May I?" He inquired, gazing at me. He looked very handsome. His beautiful blue eyes peered through his thick-framed glasses. He wore a Burberry scarf around his neck. His sharp jawline was what made him truly attractive.

"Sure," I replied, looking down, aware that I was blushing intensely.

"You know I've never tasted chicken nuggets," he remarks as he takes one, slyly snatching the sauce I was using. He sampled the nugget while I indulged in some French fries that I also relished. I glanced out the window; it was entirely dim outside. Then I shifted my gaze back to Joost.

"Why did you block my number?" He inquired out of the blue. I sat upright, unable to provide a response to his query.

"I was occupied," I replied curtly, feeling a bit anxious that this conversation might escalate. He simply nodded, unsure of what to say. After a moment of contemplation, he finally broke the silence.

"Occupied with someone?" He inquired, prompting me to tilt my head slightly. I needed a moment to ponder and craft a thoughtful response. I wasn't preoccupied with anyone. I was simply engrossed in self-care, focusing on my mental well-being, striving to improve my life even just a little. My daily routine felt monotonous - waking up, having breakfast, heading to work, eating dinner, sleeping, and repeating the cycle. I grew weary of this routine. I longed for my parents, my younger sister, and the carefree days of childhood.

“No.” I replied dryly, as I took my final sips of coke. Joost had already pushed the box back, but I nudged it back to signal that he can have the last nuggets. He accepted the food, pondering his response before blurting out something foolish.

“So you were occupied with…?” He prompted me to complete the sentence. I simply sighed in response.

"My mental health," I respond, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"You could have informed me that you were having a tough time. I would have been there to support you," he says, gazing at me with concern.

"I just needed some time to myself," I say, hoping to end this conversation.

"You know, I felt foolish when you blocked me. You could have simply mentioned you weren't interested in me, and I would have backed off," he says, sitting upright, with a hint of remorse in his eyes as he gazes at my hands. I was fidgeting with my sleeve.

"Feeling tense?" He asks, taking hold of my hand. I wanted to say no, but deep down, I knew I could only answer yes.

"No. Not really." I respond, attempting to avoid the eye contact he's seeking.

"Do you desire any more food?" He inquired, and I simply shook my head to decline.

"Let’s go then." He suggests, gently patting my back. We exited the building together.

"I can walk home from here," I say, glancing at him. He was tall and had a very masculine appearance.

"Can I accompany you home?" He questioned, and unsure if it was a wise choice, I sensed it might be our last meeting for a long time, or possibly never again. Nevertheless, I nodded, and he grinned. We began walking towards my house.

"I like your scarf," I mentioned, breaking the silence. He didn't say anything but gently removed it and wrapped it around my head.

"It looks much more flattering on you," he remarks with a smile, reaching out to grasp my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. Suddenly, he makes a wrong turn.

"That's not the route to my place," I mention, furrowing my brows. I was nearly sober.

"I know. There's a spot I'd like to take you to," he mentions as we reach the bridge. The wind was strong, messing up Joost's hair. He tried to fix it quickly, but it didn't really work. I couldn't help but laugh, and he rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue in response.

"Hey, what's so funny?" he says playfully, giving me a gentle push.

"Nothing," I uttered as he drew me closer once more, and I simply relished the moment. It dawned on me that I was thoroughly enjoying the time with the tall Dutch gentleman. A quiet interval ensued until we reached a bridge. It was truly a sight to behold, and I couldn't resist capturing it in a photograph. Stepping back, I ensured Joost was also in the frame. He glanced at me, posed with a smile, and shaped a heart with his fingers.

"Aww, adorable!" I say with a smile, and he approached without a word. I tucked my phone away, and Joost simply embraced me. No words. No sounds. Just two individuals embracing at the bridge. Two hearts beating in unison.

"I deeply yearned for you," is the only utterance he managed.

"I missed you as well," I reply softly, maintaining the embrace. We linger in the moment before eventually deciding to head back home as the chill of the evening sets in.

"When do you plan to depart for Sweden?" I inquire purely out of interest.

"My manager mentioned they're counting on me to be at the hotel tomorrow," I respond, nodding in understanding.

"Are you not keen on joining me?" He inquired. He had already asked me this question during our meal.

"I'd be happy to join, but I need to find a way to make some money," I respond, to which he pouts in disappointment.

"I comprehend. Please inform me if your decision changes," he states, and I offer a smile. Upon reaching my residence, we bid our final farewells. He mentioned I could keep the scarf but requested something in return. As I lacked valuable items, he noticed my bag and a small keychain, a fluffy pink heart. He inquired about exchanging it, to which I happily agreed, asking if he desired anything else, but he declined. We shared a parting hug, and he mentioned he would text me. After he left, I unblocked his number but never received a message from him again.

A/n - guys I’m so sorry this is so shitty 😭 I feel like I made so much grammar mistakes. English isn’t my native language so if you see any mistakes please contact me 😘 BY THE WAY I DONT KNOW IF YALL NOTICED BUT Y/N’S BEST FRIEND IS ACTUALLY ME 😍😍😍😍😍THANK YOU SO MICH FOR 60 FOLLOWERS ILY! leave a comment behind please it gives me a lot of motivation ✌🏻 I’m actually thinking if I should make a part 3 but idk lmk 😊 PEACE OUT 😇✌🏻LUV U GUYS 🥰❗️💋💋💋💋💋

[goldustwomun]

slipping through my fingers (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter!reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. plus, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, more of a miserable sirius this time, reader is self-deprecating and talks about not feeling 'enough' (you are babes x), loads of miscommunication or rather inability to say what you mean (it's me I'M READER), i love drama at a dinner a party sooo

wc: 3.3k+

note: somewhat proud of this so help a girl out by reblogging x

pt i. / pt ii.

Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it

The rest of the week flew by much the same. You opened up the shop, shoving the collection of Dickens to stop the door from slamming into you, Sirius crashed in late everyday, so much so that you told him to not even bother apologising (that being said, he hadn’t apologised in the first place). When the two of you spoke, you tried your best to not catch his eye too often. 

Instead, you busied yourself with picking up a novel for you to read inbetween the morning and late-afternoon rush. There were always a few stragglers that ventured through the door in between peak hours, and it was only after the third or fourth go-around of a gaggle of teenagers that had stumbled in, giggling and hiding their grins behind their palms, that you realised they were more of a ‘Sirius Black’ fan club as opposed to actual customers.

You let them have at him considering the few moments of peace it gave you. 

And maybe if you put down your book or halted your busy hands whilst counting the cash or checking the inventory for the fourth time that day, you might just notice how much it bothered you. 

Growing up and finding Sirius in your midst more often than you'd have liked meant countless friendships made and lost over someone or the other wanting just a glimpse of his attention. Anytime you pass the ice cream parlour down the road from your house, you’re reminded of Macy Adams – a pretty thing with pin-straight, jet black hair and pouty lips to complete the look – using you to get to him. 

He never let anything go further than an odd flirty comment here and there with your friends (which you’ll admit was kind of him to do considering he was a hormonal teenager at the time), but you were frankly sick of it.

Because you’d never understand why.

Why him? And why you?

You’d never shared that same rose-coloured view of Sirius, never felt the same burst of butterflies from your first teenage crush being him.

Or maybe you had and it was just easier to hate him than it was to like, let alone love, him. 

So, yes. It was really starting to get on your nerves, if you were being honest. More than you’d ever care to admit.

What’s worse is that his words from days ago wouldn’t stop playing over in your head, like that one Pink Floyd tape you'd gotten stuck in the receiver and no matter or banging or prodding would get it loose.

And you had that he was right about it all -- that, in many ways, you were miserable about life and love (or lack thereof). Maybe forcing those around you to share those same feelings alleviated some of the pains and aches. 

'Cause yes, you were cranky and grouchy and frankly, a bit of a brat more often than not. You blamed it on being the baby of the family, call it youngest child syndrome, but damn it– you had been twelve and mourning your childhood, and now at twenty-something, those aches had yet to subside.

Yet you couldn’t stop it. The hate and the anger and the frustration at a world that had left you behind. Your stomach lurched at the sudden bites of sadness when a day had gone by and you’d not accomplished anything.

So when Sirius flaunts into your kitchen with a hangover and a few hickies down his neck, and your parents pat him on the back, congratulating him for his very existence (at least, you assume that's it) -- it stings. You've hated him for it, always have, but maybe you also loved hi–

No. You couldn’t.

One day, Sirius was scolding James for tugging at your pigtails, and the next, he was pulling them himself.

It didn’t matter anyway. Sirius Black would never be a pivotal part of your life. You’d keep him waiting on the sidelines, only to occasionally bump into him on holidays and during family gatherings. Sure, you you both tossed petty insults at each other every now and again, but other than that, you needn’t see him. 

Outside of your nine-to-five at the bookstore, of course. 

You returned to the words of the book you’d chosen, pleading with your mind to focus once more. You’d changed the sleeve, not wanting Sirius to see what you were reading so intently. 

Was it really so bad? A young girl – nay, a youthful girl, with interests, needs and desires that were essentially unmet for the time being. It was normal to want to read about whirlwind fictional romances, fantasise about having someone close, kissing you, touching you, being yours and no one else’s.

You weren’t about to add to Sirius’ list of things to tease you for by clueing him in on the fact that you were sitting right next to him, reading filthy, irredeemable smut with not a single suitor lined up to help you out. 

He was sat behind the counter with you, the store empty, with a journal and fountain pen in hand as he scribbled away about something or the other. You were convinced he was writing angsty poetry about the blonde who’d left him to travel around Amsterdam (yes, the same one he’d met only a week earlier), but something about the furrow between his brows had you questioning such a dismissive assumption.

Sirius peered over at you. You only knew because you’d grown accustomed to the sensation of his eyes watching your every week for the past week. Other than polite exchanges and a question every now and again about the dewey decimal system, you’d not spoken a word to each other.

You weren’t sure if the ceaseless, stabbing pain in your chest was relief or something worse.

Regret?

You were on the verge of telling him off for staring when the door jingled announcing someone’s arrival. Looking up from the blurring words on the page, you were met with the scheming grin of your brother, James.

“Hullo there lovely, lovely, people!” he hollered with only a smidge too much of enthusiasm. You worried his face might get stuck with how wide (and forced?) his smile seemed to be. 

“Why are you so happy?” you questioned abruptly, brow raised with suspicion.

“My sweet, innocent, little sister. Is your life so miserable that a singular smile makes you uncomfortable?” he teased in that boyish way of his.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, reminded of the very similar accusations Sirius had thrown at you last time you two had dared to face each other head on.

You could see– no, feel him straighten next to you at James’ words, arm brushing against yours enough that you tried to discreetly move away. 

He looked almost upset when you did finally turn to look at him, but he quickly snapped his attention back to James instead. “Don’t be a dick to your sister, James,” he scolded, and James must not have thought much of the uncharacteristic chide because he continued unperturbed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. I’ve entered your humble store to invite the two of you to a dinner party tonight at ours’. Mum and Dad have offered to take Harry for the night, so a soiree of our first night back on the ‘scene’ since becoming parents seemed in order,” he explained, all flourishing hands and expectant smiles.

“So, can I take it that I'll be seeing the two of you later?”

Sirius nodded immediately but you struggled for an excuse reasonable enough to get out of it.

“I don't know, James. I have so much to do here and– you know– Dad wants the inventory done and all that. It’s really just– yeah. I don’t think so...” You cringed at how you'd managed to stumble over just about every word, hoping, praying, neither James nor Sirius would call you out on your barely concealed attempts to avoid Sirius for at least a few more days.

It was Sirius’ turn to tease you, despite having restrained himself from doing so all week.

“Well shit, mini Potter. You’ve managed to say so much and yet so little at the same,” he pointed out, nudging your side.

You scoffed at him in return, crossing your arms out of protest. “And I saw you do inventory already. In fact, I saw you do it, then do it again, then again and– ah, yes. Again.”

You aimed a glare right at him, and his only response was a hesistant smile.

James stepped in once more with an– “Alright-y then, I will be seeing you both tonight. 7:30pm. Bring a bottle because we don’t have any and Lily is dying for a glass now that she’s not breastfeeding.” He walked the short distance towards the door, called out– “don’t be late” –then disappeared into the bustle on the street. 

It took all of two seconds of James being gone before you spun to face Sirius, clouds swarming behind your eyes. “What’d you do that for, Sirius?” you questioned indignantly.

“Well, you see, you were lying and I corrected you. Now you’re going to your brother’s ‘soiree’. Really, I don’t think it’s that complicated, love,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It's not like theere's a genuine reason to not want to go, other than, let's say... avoiding me?" he asked, cautious as if worried you'd bite.

“Well– yes– but– I mean, no that's not it--”

“So I’m right. Right?” he cut in, standing up from the stool with a loud scrape against the floor. He squeezed your shoulder once as he moved out from behind the counter and headed for the aisles of books. “Great, so I’ll see you tonight.”

Well, fuck. 

You were reluctant when you stuffed your feet into your shoes and reluctant when you apparated to the (other) Potter’s doorstep, and reluctant, once more, when you knocked on the front door. Only seconds later was Remus swinging the door open. You offered him a shy smile– finding him to be both the most chivalrous and kind of your brother’s friends – before stepping inside and hanging your coat on the peg.

It was only 7:45 but there must have been at least twenty or so people hanging around the living room, glasses in hand with the crackling stereo speakers switching between the Beatles and Slade and the odd Blondie track you were sure Lily had threatened James to include. 

“Quite a crowd already,” you noted, hanging back, stiff and awkward, and feeling utterly out of place with your brother’s friends. They were all parents and spouses and had jobs that afforded them a house of their own. They were only a few years older yet miles ahead of where you were, and it was only seeing all of their faces in one room that you realised your own predicament.

“Yeah, I think we all realised it’s been a hot minute since anyone’s thrown any kind of party, so in our eagerness we all showed up about thirty minutes early,” he mused. “Lily was livid. Her hair was still in those curling contraptions.”

“You mean... curlers?” you pointed out, charmed. 

“Ah, yes. Curlers,” he teased back.

It was only then that you realised you hadn’t quite had a proper conversation with Remus since, well, ever. And it was nice, normal, and not nearly as infuriating as just about every conversation you’d had with Sirius.

You could feel him staring at you from the corner of your eye, so when he offered to get you a drink – “A raspberry cider, please. Lily keeps them in the cabinet in the kitchen for me,” – you accepted, taking a moment to internally scold yourself for instinctively thinking of him every time something happened to you.

While you waited for Remus to return, you ventured into the hall in search of James. You figured you better make yourself known so he doesn’t accuse you of skiving your own brother’s party. 

You only managed a step or two past the threshold when a hand reached for your own, tugging you into the closet.

It was pitch black and you’d been on the verge of letting out a blood-curdling scream before a dim, orange glow bathed the cramped room.

Your vision focused, first, on the hanging tether of the light, and then Sirius’ face behind it. He looked to be somewhere between panicked and restless, and really, it was appropriate considering the beating you were pondering laying out on him.

And you hated to even think it but he looked good. All scruff and unruly hair like he couldn't stop combing his fingers through the strands, and he smelled of pine and wood and books and--

“Sirius?!"

"I can explain--" he began but you held up your hand to silence him. He must have noticed the murderous rage brewing behind your irises because, for once, he did, in fact, stop talking.

"I'm not just-- you can't just-- what the fuck are you doing pulling oblivious girls into closets, you fucking weirdo!” you scolded, your voice coming out as more of a whisper than a shout so as not to alert anyone of your current situation. 

“No, Potter, you see, I just wanted to--” and it was amusing, really, to see him struggle for once. Tripping over vowels and consonants like he'd had you (you'd never tell him that though) and every other girl to enter within a metre's radius of him doing so.

“You just what?” you bit out, growing impatient as the seconds passed by.

You wondered if Remus was looking for you now, or if he’d grown bored and moved onto the brunette you knew he had pined after for years.

“Look– if you want to lecture me again about how I’m a miserable, terrible, fucking horrible, even, person– save it. I get it. I know. I’ve heard it from you and James and I’m pretty sure Mum said it to Aunt Ca–”

“No, love, no,” he cut you off, again.

You tried to ignore how that was twice, now, that he’d referred to you so endearingly, so out of character. It bugged you but not for reasons you were willing to admit.

“I mean– yes, I want to talk about that but not to lecture you. Not now. I wanted to apologise,” he continued, forgetting to breathe between words and phrases but it seemed he had set himself in-motion and couldn’t be stopped. “I’ve been a dick, I realise that. And maybe it was a fun little bit between us when we were younger and more stupid–” you frowned at that but let him continue anyway.

“-- But I think we’ve gotten carried away ‘cause, I mean, I sure think Ihave. I said some horrible, untrue things to you that I don’t, not one bit, mean or believe in anyway. And I should have apologised earlier but things were so, so, painfully awkward and you’ve been buried in that book of yours so I just–” he breathed, finally, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond or if you were meant to, even, but he was staring all doe-eyed and expectant and freaking cologne of his was all you could smell and really, you blame the prospect of the cider and the scandalous books you’d been reading because you didn’t mean to tug the light off or lean forward and collide with him. 

It just happened.

It was dark and quiet and you could feel him go stiff and your own heartbeat droning on in your ears, but it was only when you began to pull away that he surged forward, too.

Pushing, scrambling, gasping into your mouth before shoving the pair of you into the opposite wall, his large palm covering the back of your head so that even whilst he was devouring you in every sense of the word, your heart raced at his tenderness. 

Your arms clung to his shoulders, pulling him in in in, until there was not an atom’s worth of space between you. The hand not currently cushioning your head moved to hook your leg around his waist, and you opened willingly, pleadingly, melting the moment he slid, firm, against you.

You sighed into his mouth with every caress of his tongue against your own, and questioned your sanity for following through with the very thoughts you’d fantasised about for weeks, months, maybe even years. 

Just as you were reluctant to attend the party in the first place, you were reluctant to pull back even just to breathe but he must have felt the air leaving your lungs as well because he moved to place open-mouthed, wet and searching kisses against your neck and collarbones– biting, sucking, nipping in all the ways he knew how. 

Fuck everyone who got him before you’d ever had the chance, but thank God for the skill he had acquired in the meantime.

“Potter,” he groaned against the dampness of your neck, sounding every bit in pain as you were. The coarse hair of his moustache scratched at your skin with every movement of his mouth, and you couldn't help but tangle your fingers into his long strands, holding him in place. “Fuck– I’ve thought about this–” and he never managed to finish before he grew impatient of even himself and returned his mouth to you. 

“I– Me too– Oh fuck!” He bit, hard, into your sensitive skin before soothing the sting over with his tongue, planting a final kiss to the spot before moving to cradle your face in his palms. He kissed you, once, twice, a third time for luck you assumed, before you managed to resist for long enough to get your words out. 

It took a second for the electricity thrumming inside of you to subside enough for your thoughts to order themselves once more.

You stared at him, pupils dilated, mouth wide in shock, and looking every bit of the mess you felt. 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” and they came out before you’d given yourself time to even really process what had just happened, or what you wanted your reaction to be.

You’d seen Sirius defeated, though only ever over the mundane and menial. A stubbed toe on the step he always forgot about that lead into your parents' kitchen, his favourite team losing a Quidditch match, or when the wrong order arriving from the chippy.

But the way his face fell-- sure it was dark but you could just tell.

He froze momentarily, before he stepped away, abrupt and robotic and so not-Sirius in every way you had come to know.

“Sirius I didn't–” you began, but he’d already tugged the light back on and with it, reality came crashing in, occupying the space he had only seconds ago. 

“No, no. You’re right, Potter,” he said, sounding every bit as lifeless as he looked now that you could actually see him.

He wouldn’t raise his gaze to meet your own, to see you pleading, silent, but pleading, that no, I lied, it wasn’t a mistake, in fact I want to do just that, more and more. And unlike every other moment in your life, for once, you couldn’t get the words out past your lips.

At least, not the right ones.

“I’m sorry,” you tried, gentle. You mourned the return of that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as your chest threatened to cave in on itself.

How was it that you felt worse than when you’d first gotten here?

Only this time it was no one’s fault but your own.

“No need to apologise, love.” He paused for a beat, glancing at the door before following through on the thoughts telling him to leave it at that before things got worse, and slipped out of the door. 

The light was still on and you noticed the shoes lined up neatly on one of the racks. Coats and jackets and umbrellas hung on the rod in front of you. Above it, there was a shelf with helmets, badminton rackets and a netball. 

There were things all around you, but you’d never felt so lonely.

You could feel the cold seeping into the space around you, one that was filled with his body heat only moments earlier.

It took everything in you to not break down right then and there.

Instead, you stepped out into the hall and plastered a smile on your face, hoping you’d make it to your room before the dam broke.

I have a rough plan of the final two chapters but eee i hope y'all enjoyed this :))

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

let's be more positive about books for a while! here are some queer historical romance novels that i've been rereading recently that i think do something interesting with making characters feel historical in their mindset and worldview, but are also fairly progressive, diverse queer books that are, frankly, a delight to read

this is by no means exhaustive and to be honest i could put almost anything by cat sebastian or kj charles on a list like this so this is purely the highlights of what i've reread in the past week to take my mind off work, and why i think they're interesting from this specific angle

cat sebastian, the ruin of a rake (turners #3)

this is technically the third in a trilogy but they're only very loosely connected, so you don't need to have read the others if you don't care about knowing who all the background characters are. the others are also good though

why it's interesting: features a character who has had to painstakingly study and learn the rules of polite society in order to claw his way up to respectability, and is now deploying those skills to help another man repair his reputation. shows the complexity of those rules, the social purposes they serve, and the work that goes into living by them, as well as the consequences of breaking them. also explores some of the financial side of aristocracy, and features a character with chronic illness (recurring malaria following repeated infections as a child in india) whose feelings about his illness are very relatable without feeling overly modern.

kj charles, society of gentlemen series.

this trilogy is closely related plot-wise and best read in order. all three explore cross-class romances and characters struggling to reconcile their political views and personal ethics with their desires, in the aftermath of the peterloo massacre, with a strong focus on the political role of the written word. first book is long-lost gentleman raised by seditionists / fashion-minded dandy teaching him to behave in society; second book is tory nobleman submissive / seditious pamphleteer dominant who've been fucking for a year without knowing the other's identity; third book is lord / valet and all the complicated dynamics of consent there with a generous side-helping of crime.

why they're interesting: close attention to the history of political printing and the impact of government censorship and repressive taxes on the freedom of the press; complex ideological disagreements that aren't handwaved as unimportant; examination of trust, consent, and social responsibility across class differences and in situations with problematic power dynamics; most of the characters are progressive for their time without feeling like they have modern attitudes. the second book, a seditious affair, deals most strongly with the revolutionary politics side of things, but all tackle it to some extent.

kj charles, band sinister.

look i'm probably biased because this might be my favourite KJC. it's a standalone about a pair of siblings: the sister wrote a gothic novel heavily inspired by their mysterious and scandalous neighbour whose older brother had an affair with their mum (causing scandal); the brother is a classics nerd. the sister breaks her leg on a ride through their neighbour's estate and can't be moved until she heals so they both have to stay at the house and find out if the neighbour is really as scandalous as he seems.

why it's interesting: discussion of atheism and new ideas about science and creation (very shocking to the brother, who is the viewpoint character); details of agriculture and estate management via main LI's attempt to grow sugar beet, as well as the economics of sugar (including references to slavery); "unexpurgated" latin and greek classics as queer reference points for a character who nevertheless hasn't quite figured out he's queer; material consequences of society scandal

bonus: wonderful sibling dynamic and a diverse cast including a portugese jewish character, which i don't think i've seen in a book before

i will add to this list as i continue to reread both of their backlists! (bc i have read them all enough times and in close enough succession that they blur together in my head unless i've read them very recently)

[shirefantasies]

was thinking about thorins company again and was thinking about a request and my mind jumped to "I wonder how they'd react if reader called them petty." so that's my request. how thorins company would react if the reader told them they were pretty.

Posting back to back because I got asked the same prompt for both stories almost simultaneously hehe! Ok now THIS? This can go one of two ways either so fluffy or so funny 😆 I think it would be divided so:

"OMG you think I'm pretty?": Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Ori, Fili, Kili, Bilbo

"How DARE you I am NOT pretty what do I look like some sort of elf lassie FDGSHVDGSH": Dwalin, Gloin, Nori

*Deadpan voice* What.: Balin, Thorin, Oin, Bifur

Bofur, frankly, is just a bit shell-shocked, but not unpleasantly so; in fact his smile says otherwise. “Well, no one’s ever called me something like that’ before!” Bombur would blush bright red at your words and smile widely. “Me? Really? Coming from someone as pretty as you?” Dori puffs up a bit despite the incredulity upon his face. “I try my best. But really, it- it’s working? Well, I…I…” Ori’s all smiles, sheepishly glancing away from you. “Me? No, I quite think that’s you, actually. Why, if you saw yourself the way I do, you’d know exactly what I mean.” Fili winks at you and flips his hair off his shoulder. “Oh, you think so, do you? Because I’ve thought the same and then some. …huh? About me or you? Maybe both! Just kidding. You’re the only one who’s ever caught my eye.” Kili acts quite similar, throwing you a wink as well. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know that? Ever have I desired an excuse to tell you.” Bright red- that is the only way to describe Bilbo as well, adorable in his stammering. “Me? Well, I try to take my best care of myself, but I don’t know about…. You insist? All right, then I’ll take the compliment so long as I can pay you back with a few. No, no, too late, please listen, because I am quite certain the only pretty one here is you.”

Dwalin’s arms are crossed the moment the word leaves your lips. “You think I’ve gone to war, bloodied my axes and dirtied my nails, just for some young thing to call me pretty?” He scoffs, but you make out the flush upon his cheeks and simply smile, shaking your head with amusement. Gloin is indignant, all but shouting that he hasn’t grown pointy ears or lost his beard, so don’t go acting like he’s one of those elves you can’t even tell maids from lords. “Oh, all right,” you tease, “what do you prefer then? Strapping? Handsome?” That shuts him right up. “What are you on about,” Nori asks you, “eh? Trying to charm something from me? I’ll have you know I’m not some tittering elf maid. You’ll have to try harder than that.” By harder than that, he evidently means the way you grab him by the collar, causing him to cave to your wishes immediately.

Balin freezes at your compliment, tilts his head. His brown eyes search yours. “I beg your pardon?” “You heard me.” Chuckling, he shakes his head. “Haven’t heard anything like that in a long time.” Deadpan describes both Thorin’s voice and expression as he seeks repetition of your statement. “Surely you have been told you cut a majestic figure before?” “Why are you telling me this?” The king responds. “Why do you think?” You shoot back, shaking your head. When the compliment leaves your lips, you can tell Oin is unsure if he heard you correctly; stepping closer, you repeat it breathily, a smile on your lips. “You mean I did- We-he-ell then!” He grins at you. Bifur peers blankly at you. “Yes, you,” you repeat, “need I describe the lovely pattern of your hair, your smile, your little creations you share with me or the way you…” Shaking his head, Bifur smiles and takes your hand.

Rest of the Taglist 😉: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[forever-rogue]

Hiiii 🐻

What about an Eddie fic where they are at an award show nominated in the same category but they are exs. They ended things because right person wrong time type of deal. His career took off and hers was in the early stages.

And he wins the award and spots her in the crowd

Link for reference

https://www.tiktok.com/@editsmcu/video/7045316909562219782?lang=en

AN | I changed the prompt just a little but I hope y’all enjoy! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"He's going to be there, you know," the soft tone of her voice caused you to look up from your phone as you caught her eye in the mirror. Your grip around your phone tightened as her expression turned doe-eyed, "Eddie. His band is nominated for a few awards."

You knew that, of course you did. You wouldn't admit that you still closely kept up with what was going on with him. But, despite the fact that you'd broken up almost a year ago, you still cared deeply for him. 

"Oh," you swallowed the thick lump that had welled up in your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay, "well, that's alright. These things will continue to happen and I'll just have to learn to deal with it."

"You'll be okay?" She finished up your hair and settled her gentle hands on your shoulders. She gave you a tender squeeze as you nodded, "if you need anything, you can always text or call me. I'm not your hairdresser but your friend too, and I'm here for you."

"I'll be alright," you promised, heart constricting at the kindness she displayed, "I'll just have to learn how to deal."

"You'll do great, my love," her smile was gentle, "you're solid gold and one day you'll find exactly what you're looking for."

What if you had lost what you had been looking for?

"Thank you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie was sprawled on the couch in the studio, scrolling endlessly through his social media. A heavy sigh escaped his lips despite his best efforts; he was feeling a type of way he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t bored or tired or…anything really, just sort of down. 

“Hey man,” Jeff sat down at the opposite end of the couch causing Eddie to lift his head in question, “I just heard that umm…well, she is going to be there tomorrow night.”

Eddie tried not to let his face light up entirely but it was hard not to perk up at even the smallest mention of you. His heart ached as he pictured your face; it had been so long since he’d even seen you in person. To put it quite frankly, it sucked. 

“Oh?” He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible but even he could hear the curiosity in his voice, “how did you find that out?”

“Seth told me,” ah. Of course their manager would know all about that, “wonder why she’s going. She’s not even a musician, just an actor…maybe she’s someone’s date or something…”

“Date?” and yeah he almost choked on that singular word. The idea of you going on a date made anger bubble in his blood, “you don’t seriously think that she’s dating someone, do you?”

“I dunno man,” Jeff shrugged lightly, “I mean…you were the one that broke up with her. And it’s been almost a year. She's going to date someone else eventually."

"I know!" He snapped, rubbing his tired face with his hands. Jeff recoiled slightly from Eddie's sudden sharpness. He knew that you were still a sore subject for him and he'd hope to negate any bad feelings by warning him that you'd be there. But now he was wondering if he'd made a mistake - maybe Eddie wouldn't even have noticed you.

"I'm sorry, Ed. You'll be alright," he offered him a tight lipped smile, "and it'll be over before we know it."

"Yeah," he replied dismissively, raking a hand through his messy curls, "let's fucking hope so."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You look amazing."

You studied yourself intently in the mirror, staring at the dark pink dress that you were currently sporting. Your mind had immediately drifted to wondering if Eddie would have liked your dress. He always enjoyed the fact that you were so opposite of him. Sunshine and rain, he'd always said, balancing each other out.

So much for that. But you tried not to dwell on the past. You'd already given into the fact that you would ever be completely over him. A part of your heart would always belong to him.

"Thanks," you smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were nervous going to the awards show tonight, even if you were just going to accompany one of your friends. 

Your stylist touched up your hair and set your makeup before letting you go. After you slipped on your heels and waited for your ride, you couldn't help but go on to IG and scroll through photos of the red carpet to see who had already arrived. 

Everything was fine until you reached a post that caused your heart to almost stop. There was Eddie, looking as gorgeous as ever, standing on the red carpet with the rest of his band members. You'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to see that he didn't have a date.

Not that it mattered. Of course not. It was all peaches and he could do whatever he wanted. Even if it would break your heart a little further.

"Your chariot has arrived ," you looked up when you saw Angelica walk through the door. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her standing there, looking as amazing as you hoped you did too, "ready to go?"

"Yup," you grabbed your bag and walked over to her but you could tell that something was on her mind, "what's wrong?"

"I…Gareth texted me a little while ago. They're already all there," she gave your shoulder as a squeeze. You appreciated all the concern but it really wasn't helping. It would have been preferable to just have everyone ignore the blatant obviousness that Eddie would be there.

"It's fine," you insisted softly, "really. I'd rather just not worry about it at all. It is what it is; he broke up with me and that's it."

"Babe-"

"Seriously," you took her hand and squeezed it gently, "let's just go and have fun."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the many wonderful things about Eddie was that he didn’t really care what anyone thought of him. Even as a world famous rockstar, he couldn’t really be bothered to worry about that. So he didn’t worry about the way he looked around the crowd, blatantly obvious as he scanned the sea of people for you. Unabashed and unashamed as ever. 

Just when he’d almost given up, he found you. Clear across the room, looking stunning as ever and sitting among your friends. He knew them all and he knew that you wouldn’t be anyone’s date, not like that anyway, and that served to put him at ease. A silly, dopey little smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. 

But then he remembered - you weren’t his. Not anymore and more than likely never again. 

“You gonna keep staring all night?” Eddie’s cheeks pinked as he turned his gaze away and back to Jeff, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious!”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed as he shifted in his seat so he couldn’t look at you as easily, “it was just one look.”

“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow and pulled up his phone, showing Eddie a few articles that had already popped up. All about the two of you - speculation that this meant that the two of you were back together or fans attempting to manifest it, “you’re only going to make it worse.”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, “it’ll be fine. Let’s just hope this night goes fast.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few hours had passed, in relative ease and peace, and you were relieved to know that it was almost over. Then you could go home, have a hot bath with a glass of wine, and get some much needed sleep. 

But then the award that Eddie’s band was nominated for was announced. You listened to the announcer rattle off the nominees, heart beating wildly in your chest as you hoped that he didn’t win. It was so incredibly selfish, you knew that much, but it was just all too much at once. 

Corroded Coffin won, which didn’t really didn’t come as a surprise to you or anyone else. It was a well deserved and hard fought win, and you knew it should have been them. You clapped along with everyone around you, watching the stage closely as the guys walked on, with Eddie coming up last. Suddenly it seemed like he was the only one in the room and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked good, but worst of all he still looked just like Eddie. 

He hung back as the rest of the band all spoke, but you could see him scanning the crowd. When it was finally his turn, he laughed nervously before looking out into the audience and somehow managing to find you. His eyes looked with yours as a small gasp escaped your lips. You knew that he was aware that he was staring right at you. A smile spread on his face, easy and soft just like the one he’d blessed you with so many times. Despite everything that had happened you couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

It didn’t matter what he was saying, you were only vaguely away of it, the moment was all that mattered. People scattered throughout the audience seemed to catch onto what was happening; you could hear them tittering about and looking at you and back at Eddie. It made your face warm up but none of that mattered. The moment belonged solely to you and Eddie. 

Unfortunately it was over much too soon for your liking and the boys were herded off stage. You turned your attention back to the table and you could feel the silent questions being thrown your way. Ignoring them all you grabbed your glasses and chugged down the rest of the champagne. 

What a series of unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, events.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After it was all said and done and you were ready to head home, insisting on taking a cab so and skipping the afterparty, much to Angelica’s dismay, you made your way out of the building, heels in hand. It was quiet here and allowed you a few moments to breathe and absorb all that happened. 

Then you heard your name being called out. Urgently and loudly, in a voice you’d heard so many times before. You had two options - keep walking and pretend you hadn’t heard or didn’t care, or face him. You knew which one you wanted, long before the opportunity had even presented itself. 

You turned around and found Eddie running towards you, his curls bouncing wildly. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, attempting to catch his breath. 

“Eddie?” your voice was small, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “what are you doing here?”

“You,” he said softly as your expression turned doe-eyed; that look always made him look weak in the knees, “miss you - had to see you.”

“You missed me?” he nodded, taking a last gasping breath before straightening up and looked at you.Your brain felt like it was turning to much as you tried to process everything taht was going, “what do you mean?”

“I fucked up,” he shrugged and threw up his arms in exasperation. He was so mad at himself for ever letting you go, “I fucked up and I lost and I just…I really fucking miss you.”

“Eddie, you’re the one that broke up with me,” you blinked back tears as he ran a hand through his messy curls, “but now you miss me?”

“I should never have broken up with you,” he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping those plush lips you so desperately missed kissing, “biggest mistake ever.”

“Then why did you?”

“I…I thought I was doing the right thing,” he explained, “I thought I was going enough for you and with things really taking off with the band, it felt like I didn’t have enough time for you and didn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seemed like the right thing at the time. I figured that maybe you would fine someone that deserves you but honestly, I really hate the fucking idea of anyone else having you.”

“Oh. Oh,” the realization crashed over you like ice cold waves, “well, I admit the idea behind breaking up with me was admirable, but deciding how I felt wasn’t exactly your choice. I never thought you weren’t good enough or didn’t give me enough of you. Eddie, I was so in love with you, nothing else mattered. We could have figured things out together - we always have. I never wanted anyone else, and no one even crossed my mind. Even now, almost a year later.”

“Really?” he choked on his question, feeling his own eyes start to burn with tears.

“Yeah,” you promised him, reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze, “it’s getting late. I should head home.”

“Ba - wait-”

“It was good to see you,” and you meant it. It was good to see him, and hear him out, and maybe it would serve as a bit of closure. You tried to walk away, but he held onto your hand and gently kept you from walking away, “Eddie?”

“Wait, just,” he stammered as he tried to format even a coherent sentence, “I-I love you. I’m still in love with you, I never stopped. Fuck, I don’t ever want anyone else. No one, just you.”

“Eddie-”

“Give me another chance,” those words made your mouth drop open as you blinked at him a few times, “please. I’ll do anything, just…don’t walk away. I don’t deserve another chance, and I’m an asshole, I know that. But please…one chance is all I’m asking for. I don’t think that this is the end of our story, I think that we’re-”

You caught him by surprise, cutting off his rambling by taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. It was the first time you’d kissed him in so long, but it still felt so right, so magically wonderful. His large, warm hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into him and continued to kiss you deeply. 

Neither of you were willing to break apart until you were both left dizzied and breathless. He pressed his forehead to yours, a smile dancing on his lips as you exchanged soft chuckles. 

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips, “but you’re my idiot. And I think you’re right…”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never thought about anyone else but you either,” that made his entire face light up with happiness, “and I think you and I have a very long story ahead of us.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” you promised, “you’re it for me, rockstar. You always have been and will be.”

“Baby,” he let out a slow breath, feeling like he was able to properly breathe for the first time in a long time. He took your face and peppering it in kisses, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation, “let me take you on a date. Let’s go right now.”

“It’s almost one in the morning-” 

“And our favorite diner is open 24/7,” and yeah. You were in love with this fool, “and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. The little bits of fancy food they served were definitely not enough. Whaddaya say?”

“Let’s go,” you moved to slip your heels back on but Eddie stopped. He kneeled down and motioned for you to get on his back; you laughed but did so nonetheless, climbing onto his back as he held onto your heels. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar scent, “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, baby. So fuckin’ much.”

[a-yellow-van]

Wish You Were Here | Part 1

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.

20 years after the outbreak, you’re a stable, well established member in the community of Jackson, Wyoming. You have been for a long time now, the horrors, the brutality of survival buried deep inside, leaving place to the safe simplicity of routine. You didn’t think there’s anything that could disturb that, after all you’ve been through. That is, until you meet Joel Miller, and a drunken choice leads to…much more. Set in between Part I and Part II. Canon compliant (I'm breaking my own heart)

Series masterlist

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Fanfic tags : canon compliant, slow burn, romance, eventual smut, angst, hurt/comfort, joel and the reader are terrible at feelings, female reader, no use of y/n, reader is in early 30s, past relationships, trauma/PTSD, grief, loss, post-apocalypse, joel is a good parent to ellie, major character death, original characters, queer characters, bisexual main character, age difference, canon-typical violence

WC for Part 1 : 4.5 k

Warnings for Part 1 : drinking, swearing, implied sexual content

New Year’s Eve 2034. Jackson’s tavern is packed to the brim, people in every corner of the room, almost shoulder to shoulder. It’s hot and humid inside; layers have been shed, revealing patches of sticky skin. A musky, sickly sweet smell assaults your nose : a mix of sweat, booze and dust, making you nostalgic for a time you never knew, before the world fell apart. The windows are fogged up, blocking out the view of snow falling peacefully, coating the street. You’ve rarely seen anything like it. Nearly every adult survivor in the community has seemingly decided to come out tonight, and the fact that Eugene has finally dipped into his batch of mead, home brewed by the barrel, is most certainly to blame. Maria, Jackson’s leader, doesn’t exactly approve, but she’s making an exception. Just for the holiday. You spot her at the back; she’s holding hands with Tommy, her husband, protectively watching over the crowd. Eugene’s feeling particularly generous this evening; he offers a hefty bottle to whoever asks, reminding each lucky recipient to “savour ‘cause she’s been fermenting since July!” You must have heard that sentence a good twenty five times since you got your own bottle, the words getting progressively less intelligible as Eugene indulges in his creation. You’re still not certain why he refers to his mead like it is a woman, and frankly, you’re afraid to find out. One thing’s for sure, the beverage is incredibly strong, has a horrid taste, burning your throat like acid with every drop. It’s questionably safe for consumption, but the occasions to get shitfaced in the midst of an apocalypse are quite limited, so you endure. Even Jackson’s most reclusive members agree with that notion. Including him. Joel Miller. He’s nursing a drink at a table near the bar, opposite to the one you’re sharing with your usual group. You wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but they’re fellow patrollers, close to you in age, so, naturally, you’ve grown familiar. 

“What are you looking at?” Max, the one you’ve known the longest, nudges you with their elbow.

Your gaze quickly snaps back to meet theirs. You realise you’ve been staring at the older man. Noticeably. You don’t quite know why. Maybe he intrigues you, all quiet and pensive in the middle of a rowdy celebration. His expression is hard to read, but there’s a hint of…sadness? You get a hold of yourself and brush off the thought. 

“Nothing,” you lie. Max cocks an eyebrow, a little grin forms on their lips, freckled cheeks dimple. 

“Uh-huh.” There’s a glint of malice in their green eyes. “You sure? No one particular caught your attention?” 

You don’t let their teasing get to you. “Nah. Just checking at Seth trying to hit on Leanne,” you reply without missing a beat, “for the millionth time.” This one isn’t a lie, as the scene really is unfolding a few metres away. You blink at Max, feigning innocence. They narrow their eyes, not buying it. 

“Man, when is he gonna get the hint?” Fred chips in, breaking the unspoken exchange between you and Max. She quickly peeks in the direction of the duo, a muscly arm propped on the back of her chair, long cornrows draped across the other shoulder. She scoffs, and takes a swig of her drink. “She looks like she’s seconds away from kicking him in the balls.”

“Don’t know how she hasn’t done that, like, years ago.” It’s Astrid’s turn to talk. She sighs, shaking her head, her wavy golden blonde hair rustling with the movement. 

“Maybe you should go beat him up for her, A,” Fred jokingly suggests. “Bet she’d like that.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” Astrid responds, seriously. “I’d have him in a wheelchair for the rest of his days.”

“Oh, yeah. And then you and Leanne would run off into the sunset,” Max adds, taking their attention off you, finally. They start screeching in a horrible, high-pitched voice. “Oh, Astrid! Oh, thank you! You saved me from the big, bad man! I lo-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Astrid cuts them off, cheeks reddening. 

“Hmm. I think they hit a little nerve there, A,” Fred continues, laughing, moving her arm to playfully put it around a flustered Astrid. She’s too easy, you think. It’s pretty endearing.  

“Who are you kidding,” you join in Astrid’s torment. “You can’t even say hi to Leanne without stuttering.” The woman gets even redder, the angry tint reaching her pale neck. Fred and Max giggle. “You’re such a teenager,” Max strikes. 

“Just fucking drink.” Astrid commands the three of you, pouring the group another round. 

“Fair enough,” Max says, before clinking glasses with Fred in front of them. Astrid finishes hers in one gulp, which makes her cough, while you sip slowly. The buzz is setting in. It’s nice. It eases the burden on your aching shoulders.

You let your companions carry the conversation as the night progresses, occasionally humming or laughing at a remark. You’re not exactly concentrating. You keep getting drawn back to Joel Miller, for some reason. He arrived in Jackson last summer, about six months ago. Him and a kid, a girl, around fourteen or fifteen. You assumed that was his daughter, but soon learned that you were wrong. People talk, especially in such a small community. Something about Joel smuggling her across the country for the fireflies? A failed operation, clearly. You heard the organisation disbanded since then. It was about time. You’re surprised they lasted that long in the first place. He’s Tommy’s older brother. There’s history there, you know some of it; Joel already had a bit of a reputation before ever passing through Jackson’s gates. He hasn’t done much to help it since then; he barely interacts with anyone besides Tommy and Ellie, the girl. He keeps to himself, brooding, silently observing, tough, cold, detached. That’s how Joel’s treated you on the few patrols you’ve had to go on together these past months. He usually works with Tommy, you usually work with Max, but Maria likes to switch around the schedule occasionally to test out different pairings. You and Joel have done a very efficient job, only speaking when absolutely necessary, technical terms only, mumbling salutations. However, on the last patrol, in early December, you made a great shot at a stalker, and you could have sworn Joel’s mouth twitched in approval. It was so short it might have been a product of your imagination, but then, after coming back to Jackson and bringing your horses to the stable, he mumbled your last name instead of his usual grunt goodbye. It’s fair to assume there’s mutual respect for each other’s skill there. Nothing else. So then, why does your gaze keep returning to his tousled, greying curls, scruffy beard, piercing brown eyes, and the scar on his left temple? Maybe it’s the alcohol. Yeah, that must be it-

Joel’s eyes suddenly lock with yours. Your heart skips a beat, making you choke on your drink. Shit. What the hell was that? Fred immediately interrupts the story she’s telling and you feel three pairs of eyes on you. You clear your throat, looking down at the table. 

“Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” you mutter. They keep staring. “Uh, Fred, what were you-”

And then, as if the universe takes pity on you, Mike, Jackson’s butcher, jovial fellow in his early sixties (but barely a wrinkle creasing his dark skin) claps loudly and calls out over the incessant chatter. 

“How about some music, huh?” A few supporters acclaim him. He pushes through the crowd, reaching the old console piano standing at the south wall, underneath a window. Around, some tables have been stored away, allowing some space for dancing. The instrument is in poor shape, the keys are yellowed, a pedal has fallen off. Mike sits on the worn piano bench. Most survivors in the tavern have momentarily lowered their volume, following the man’s moves. He tries a little riff. Not as bad as was expected, just slightly off tune. You know he’ll make it work. “Alright. Get ready to groove, everyone!” He plays the intro to Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry perfectly, earning cheers and applause. Chair legs scrape on the ground, glasses and bottles are snatched up as the crowd converge around Mike. 

“Woo! Come on!” Fred exclaims. She stands and takes Astrid’s arm, forcing her patrol partner up. Astrid resists, but just for the principle, a beaming smile on her face. The pair leaves, already bobbing their heads to the rhythm. Max takes another shot before shuffling away from the table on legs rendered wobbly by the booze. They hold their hand out to you, but you don’t take it yet. You dare look over at a certain someone again, who is grounded in his seat, indifferent to the change of mood. Max wiggles their fingers impatiently.

“I’ll, uh- I’ll join you later,” you say, averting their eyes. 

“Ugh. Fine. You suck,” they reply.

You raise your middle finger in response. They turn away abruptly, flashing the back of their frayed jean vest, the sleeves cut off by hand. Max catches up with Astrid and Joey, and you watch as they start dancing, snorting at how uncoordinated the three are. You’ve downed a good five drinks now. One more won’t do any harm, right? You fill up your glass with the last drops of mead from the current bottle. Warmth spreads through your veins, making your head throb in a pleasant way. Your eyelids are heavy, your surroundings blurred. Something is clear, though. You and Joel are amongst the very few survivors that aren’t taking part in the fun. Hell, even Maria’s letting her husband spin her around. 

And then it happens again. Joel meets your gaze. But this time, he holds it for a couple of seconds, before looking to the side and rubbing his chin. Almost like he’s doing it on purpose. You must be drunker than you thought, because that makes no fucking sense. And what your clouded brain makes you do next is even less logical. Slowly, you rise, and walk unsteadily to the now deserted bar, heading towards Joel. Your heart picks up its pace. This is so stupid . You sit down at one of the stools, just a few feet away from him. You lean over the counter, resting your head in your hand, staring straight ahead at the row of vintage bottles aligned on a shelf behind the bar. On the piano, Mike has moved on to I’m Still Standing by Elton John, his voice strong, smooth. You catch a glimpse of Joel in your peripheral. He’s tensed up ever so slightly, his back straightened. He’s aware of your presence. This is so stupid.

“Hey, Miller,” you hear yourself speak, still looking ahead, but loud enough he can hear you. 

He sighs. That’s something. He hasn’t gotten up and walked away, he hasn’t told you to get lost. He’s acknowledged you. It’s full of irritation, sure, but it gives you enough motivation to keep going. 

“Not a fan of the music?” You attempt a sultry tone and make yourself cringe. Great start. Joel grunts, takes a swig of mead and crosses a leg over the other, nonchalant. 

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly peg this as your scene,” you continue, gesturing vaguely at the crowd. The booze has taken the reins, and you can’t hold your tongue. 

A full minute passes in silence. You’re about to give up. And then Joel talks, gruff, sarcastic, the inebriation accentuating the southern drawl in his voice. “Right. And like you’d know, of all people.”   

A sentence. Joel Miller just spoke a full sentence to you. You’re stunned.  

“Fair point,” you recover after a few seconds. “You just, uh, don’t really seem like the social type.” A pause. You feel Joel’s gaze burning the back of your neck. “No offence,” you add.

“None taken.” Joel downs the rest of his drink, exhales. “You’re not dancin’ either,” he observes. 

“Perceptive,”  you retort. You spin on your stool, now facing him. A corner of his mouth curves upwards almost imperceptibly. It goes back down immediately, but you caught it. And it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve made the grumpy bastard smile, or, well, the closest to it he can probably manage. 

“Why not?” he questions. “Your friends looks like they’re havin’ fun.” He nods his chin over at Max, who’s gone up to the piano and is belting the lyrics to the song, stomping their feet, while Mike plays the melody. Two things : first, Joel knows who you hang out with, which means he’s not completely oblivious to who you are, and second, he’s making conversation with you. Astonishing. 

“Guess I’d rather be bothering you.” You shrug, trying to suppress a smile. “Thought you’d have cursed me out by now, if I’m honest.”

Joel scratches his forehead. “Dunno why I haven’t,” he mumbles. 

“Maybe you should.” Did you really just say that? Did you just try to flirt with him? And why did his gaze flicker to your lips?

He looks back up and narrows his eyes at you. “Nah. You don’t want that.” 

You don’t miss a beat. “Hey, I could take it.” You’re maintaining eye contact from your seat at the bar. “I’m tough.” Well, this is happening. Damn Eugene and his mead .

The ever-so-subtle smirk passes over Joel’s face for the second time. He shakes his head.  “Don’t wanna make you cry.” 

“Hm. How considerate,” you reply, unable to fight a little smile. Joel emits a short, low, rumbling sound. 

“Was that a laugh?” You ask, the smile growing larger. 

“Hm. No.” He goes right back to irritation. But still, he’s not pushing you away. So, in your drunken state, you decide to test the limits. You slip off the stool and take a step towards Joel. He furrows his brows, but doesn’t say anything. You take another step, and then another, until you reach his table. There’s no going back now. 

“Uhm, mind- mind if I sit?” 

“Are you really gonna leave if I say no?” He asks, rhetorically. He’s challenging you. You feel your cheeks heat up and your stomach drop. You pull the chair out and settle on it. You’re suddenly very conscious of your near proximity to Joel. The courage you had mere minutes ago is disappearing; you have to fuel it up. You grab an empty, upside-down glass sitting near two bottles of mead, one empty, one half full. Joel is acting quite coherent for a man who’s had that much. You tilt your head in request. 

Joel scoffs. “Go ahead.” 

You pour yourself a seventh drink, knowing perfectly well that it is an absolutely terrible idea. You down most of it in one gulp, wincing, before putting the glass back down with a thud. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Joel asks, the nickname dripping with irony. Still, your stomach does another flip. “Can’t hold your liquor?” He mocks. He leans back in his chair, legs open, right hand on his knee, left hand palm down on the table. Your gaze travels from his face, down his neck, to his broad chest where the small unbuttoned portion of his flannel reveals a few dark hairs. What the hell are you doing? Your eyes snap back up

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath. Joel looks pleased with himself. You finish your drink, looking straight at him, taunting.

“What was that?” he asks, even though he heard you perfectly. His smug smirk is assured now. You don’t answer. Joel fills up his glass. You take it as a sign that he intends to see this interaction through. Fine by you. You search the depths of your sluggish brain to find something witty to say.

“So, Miller. What’s with the accent?” This is the best you can come up with. The words are slurred. 

He scoffs again. “Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” he says, pointedly adding your last name. He’s playing you.

“Ah, come on, cowboy ” you continue, impressed by your own audacity, “Where you from?” 

Tommy has mentioned this to you before. Definitely somewhere south, but you can’t recall in your current state. And you want to hear Joel say it. 

He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but he doesn’t stop smirking. “Texas. Austin.” He takes a sip. “You?” 

Texas. Right. Makes sense. In a way, you feel proud to have gotten this minimal piece of information out of him. You didn’t think you’d ever witness Joel Miller opening up to you, not even a tiny crack. But here you are.  

“Washington. Seattle.” You copy the structure of his answer; Joel nods, casual. “Uh, you’re a long way from home,” you add.

“Yup.” He doesn’t elaborate. Takes yet another sip. “Seattle, huh?” His gaze pierces through you, eyebrows knitted in reflection. “Born and raised?”

“Yeah…” You’re not certain what he’s getting at. 

“There’s a QZ, right?” A pause. “D’you end up in it?” he questions. 

The words are like a slap in the face, sobering you up a little. You don’t want to think of that right now. Not at all. You look down, fidgeting with your empty glass. 

“Hmm,” you confirm. 

“Damn. Heard things got pretty bad up there,” Joel says. You wish he’d just shut up. You don’t like this turn the conversation took. 

“Yeah, well, I left, so.” The sentence comes out harsher than you had planned. Joel understands the message; he raises his hands up in defence.  

“Got it. Sorry I asked.” The guy doesn’t look one bit apologetic. It frustrates you, and yet…You’re enjoying this little game. 

“Yeah, watch it, Miller,” you warn, but your tone has gone back to being playful. Joel relaxes in his seat. He rests an elbow on his denim-encased thigh, shifting his weight. 

You proceed. “So what’d you do? In Texas?”

“Hm. Contractor.” He really is a man of few words. His past occupation suits him like a glove.

“Fitting.” You give him an unimpressed pout; he stays unbothered. 

“Yeah, yeah. What’d you do, then?” He asks. 

It makes you chuckle. “Uh, middle school student. 6th grade sucked ass.”

Joel takes a second to register. Something quickly washes over his face, an emotion you can’t quite discern, before vanishing. You’re too drunk to analyse it. 

“Huh. I would have guessed elementary,” he states. 

“Aw. Don’t flatter me,” you reply, dryly. 

“I’m not. Just sayin’ you don’t seem like you’ve learned much past fourth grade,” Joel says with a shit-eating grin. 

Wow. You’re speechless. And then you burst out laughing. And, miraculously, Joel starts chuckling with you, the corner of his eyes crinkling. The sound is hearty, surprisingly warm. It’s the kind of laughter that you would try your hardest to hear as often as possible. That could make you all fuzzy inside, if you’d let it. And just like that, the tension that had been building between the two of you breaks. It’s comfortable, you’re at ease. The moment stretches out; you feel a strange connection with Joel, and you wonder if it’s mutual, or if you’re going completely insane. It’s probably the second option. You manage to utter a few profanities, between two breaths. Joel watches, amused, waiting for you to calm down. 

“Alright, you’ve got me there,” you concede, a smile lingering on your lips. 

Joel’s expression has softened. He looks younger, somehow, like a few years of constant stress have been erased just by talking with you. 

“I may not be the brightest, but at least I can take a joke.” 

“You’re not wrong there.” Joel fills your glass with the remnants of the mead, while you push a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to conceal a blush. “You deserve it,” he explains, “if you can take another round.” 

“You keep underestimating me.” You raise your glass up in the air. 

Joel imitates you. “No hard feelings?” He suggests. 

“Deal.” You clink Joel’s glass with your own, and tilt your head back to swallow the foul liquid as quickly as you can, your gut churning in protest. You groan.  

“Think my estimation was correct, actually,” Joel quips. You look over at him. Besides a slight glaze over his eyes, he appears unaffected by the alcohol.

“How are you doing this?” You ask, baffled.

He shrugs. “You’ll get there eventually.” 

“And by there, you mean kidney disease?” You naively bat your eyelashes at him. 

“I’ve survived worse,” he remarks. It’s lighthearted, but it hides a bleak truth you know all too well. You ignore it. 

“Yeah. It shows.” You tease, giving him a scrutinising up-and-down.

“Hm. Funny. You didn’t seem to mind it that much when you were starin’ earlier.”

Jesus Christ.

Game over. Joel wins, one million to zero. You want to bash your head against the table, or run very far away, preferably out of Wyoming. And get torn apart by clickers. Instead, you stay right where you are, mouth agape, cartoonish. Fucking idiot. Are you twelve?

“That’s not- I- I- wasn’t-” 

Joel is delighted by your reaction. 

You wisely decide to shut up and quit stuttering. As if on cue, Mike hits the iconic intro to Don’t Stop Me Now. Max starts singing dramatically, in an offensively bad Freddie Mercury impression. Some survivors join in, not a single one on key, resulting in a cacophony. You take it as an opportunity to get out of the situation. You scramble off the chair and start walking away, stumbling and catching yourself on a nearby table. 

“Where you goin’? We weren’t done.” Joel calls after you. You turn around. 

“Me? Oh just stretching my legs.” You start stepping side to side and swaying your shoulders, following the rhythm. “Showing some love to the artists.” You shoot two fingers at him, moving your arms to the music. Joel shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re terrible.”

“Well then why don’t come here and try to do better!” You shout back, doing a ridiculous twirl as the sheer quantity of mead you ingested finally hits you. The room spins, transforming into blobs of colour. So, you close your eyes, and you flail around carelessly, your mind too foggy to worry. The tempo of the song increases. 

I'm burning through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit-

Suddenly, there’s a presence next to you. You crack your eyes open, checking on who’s intruding. Joel is standing about three feet away from you, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. His left heel is tapping the beat. 

“S’a good song,” he mumbles. 

Joel Miller, nervous to dance with you? Anything truly is possible tonight. You approach him, not interrupting your dance. He stays put. You two are away from the crowd, and it feels like you’re alone in the tavern with him, like no one can see you. 

I'm travelling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man outta you!

As Max puts all of his might into the chorus, you get closer to Joel, because he lets you, close enough that you could reach out and take his hands if you wanted to. And you do, but they’re hidden in his pockets. So you keep dancing, wiggling your hips, jumping up and down. Joel still isn’t budging, but you feel his gaze on you, eyeing your bare arms, the tattoo right under your left clavicle, and going lower down your chest…You take a step towards the man. 

“Who’s staring now?” You hadn’t planned to say that out loud, but it’s too late. You take another step, now inches from Joel’s  chest, which is rising and falling faster than before. His lips are parted, his eyes intense. It’s now or never. Fuck it.   

Your right hand moves up to rest on Joel’s shoulder, causing him to tense up. His expression goes stern, serious, like he’s fighting an internal conflict, debating whether he should pull away. Yet, he remains still. So your left hand goes to his other shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. He holds your gaze, then inhales like he’s about to say something.

A clunking noise interrupts him, shattering the moment. Your arms fall back to your sides and you glance over Joel’s shoulder, searching for the source of the disturbance. You find it easily. Astrid is standing near the table your group had claimed before, her hair thrown in a ponytail, face glistening with sweat, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up. Her water gourd lays on the ground, its content spilled. Her eyes are wide with surprise, jumping between you and Joel. Her mouth contorts in a silent, one worded question. 

That’s bad. That is very bad.  

Joel notices the shift in your attitude and whips his head around, as a snickering Astrid jogs up to the crowd, merging into it again, certainly to tell Fred about what she just stumbled upon. Joel turns back and leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers:

“Outside. Now.” 

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Something stirs in your lower abdomen; a longing, a desire that demands to be dealt with, urgently. 

Joel snatches his coat from the back of the chair he sat in, before striding towards the exit. You follow behind, docile, not bothering to retrieve your own jacket. Once you’re out of the tavern, the freezing wind barely even pinches your skin. You’re too preoccupied with another feeling that’s dangerously rising up inside. You need his touch. And you get what you want. Joel grabs your forearm, and drags you to the alleyway at the side of the building, lit up by a single, flickering street lamp. In a second, your back is pressed against the logs, Joel’s face taking up your entire field of vision. He’s seething with anger. His pointed finger digs into your sternum. 

“You- you- ” he growls. You look back at him like a deer in headlights.

And then he kisses you. Hard. His lips crash onto yours and you let out a startled yelp, jerking your head to the side. Joel stares, anticipating your reaction. You don’t let him wait for long before you kiss back. His hands glide down to your waist, gripping it, while yours go to the nape of his neck. You pull each other in and a burning heat spreads between your bodies. Time seems to slow down as you part your lips to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue in. He tastes bittersweet like the mead. Your heart races. An ache forms where your thighs meet.

Just as suddenly as he came in, Joel shoves you away roughly. Your head bounces on the tavern’s facade. He storms out of the alley without another word, leaving you alone in the cold, panting, riled up, confused. 

What the fuck just happened?

Next chapter

To read on AO3

[jadeddangel]

Hi! I think I'm supposed to put this here. Can you do a Vox x dreamy/airhead type reader? I mean dreamy/airhead like very mellow and tends to not pay attention.

Vox x Reader

"Getting lost in the rabbit hole"

Summary: In which you, a newer young overlord, have a meeting with the Vee's on an incoming collaboration.But struggles with zoning out

Warnings: valentino(he's a warning in of itself), mean! Vox, swearing, threats

You sat quietly in the meeting room, sounds of velvette's nails tapping against her phone screen and val's cigarette crackling with each long inhale he took. The room was full of smoke as you started to zone out at the wall background music playing in your head, Velvette slammed her phone down on the meeting table forcing you out of the liminal space your brain was sinking into, your pupils expanded slightly as your eyes readjusted to viewing the world around you. Velvette let out the heaviest sigh you think you've ever heard fall from her lips, " Vox said he's caught up with the press about the radio demon again, he's going to be late, apparently its causing quite a ruckus " Velvette uttered in aggravation, her accent and words rang heavy in the once quiet room. Val smirked, taking another long drag of his cigarette, " perhaps we should find temporary entertainment with our little quest here while we wait~" Valentino purred suggestively. You could feel your face fix into a stern frown, " Apologies Valentino, but I don't mix business and pleasure and quite frankly, I'm not interested in you or your line of work, I'm here for a meeting with Vox and he insisted you both be dragged into it" you uttered clearly and sternly, though part of your tone sounded bored. You could nearly hear the gears of pure frustration turn in Valentino's head, and yet again, the room fell into silence. After perhaps 30 minutes, Vox entered the room, seeming bored, "Let's get this over and done with I have a broadcast in under an hour," Vox said, drawing the other Vee's attention.

You hadn't even noticed he had entered the room, apparently the wall was just so much more entertaining, you were zoned out, focusing on every little possible design and detail that the wall was crafted with, your brain was playing elevator music in the background of everything. Suddenly, you were snapped out of it by Vox's slim fingers snapping in front of your face. You retracted your head away from his hand as soon as your brain was caught back up to reality Your words were caught in your throat as you struggled to find an excuse as to why you weren't paying attention. Your eyes met Vox's unamused ones as his smirk drooped into a frown. "What can't even bother to pay attention to the world around you? Or are you just better than us?" Vox's eyes narrowed as he stared down into your irises. You felt your heart jump into your throat at having all of this attention on you, "oh uhm i- uhm well, I was just waiting for you to get here, sir, Vox? Sir?" You stumbled over your words quite pathetically as you struggled to find the right words to excuse your behavior and lack of attention. A smirk snuck through Vox's teeth at your pathetic display before practically skipping to his seat, proud of how nervous he made you, "Don't let it happen, understand? Or we'll make a new spot for a collaboration, or perhaps a new overlord, " Vox threatened, using Acoustokinesis to make his voice appear more threatening. You took his words into consideration before giving him a sharp nod, showing him you understood what he was saying, not trusting your own words. Vox's smirk widened "good now let's get started on business.."

The following hours flew over your head. You hadn't meant to, but you were only giving Vox half of your attention. Your brain didn't mean to, but it really didn't, but that wall was really, really interesting. And then there you were completely lost in your thoughts as the Vees talked amongst themselves, Vox caught onto your eyes glazing over as he watching your brain pretty much switch off as he silently dismissed velvette and valentino to do their own work.

Vox cleared his throat to gain your attendance. You took a moment to separate your eyes and attention from the wall, turning to face him realizing that velvette and valentino had "disappeared." Vox raised a virtual eyebrow at your stubbornness towards keeping your attention on unneeded things. "You may go as well, but a few words if caution," Vox adjusted his voice so he seemed more intimidating "you ever stop paying attention to my words, what I have to say, or when I'm around you, your soul is going to lose any form of existence it still has. " Vox's eyes twitched in frustration as he watched you scramble to get up. You nodded a bit "I see where your coming from, but Vox? Work on your Insecurity before taking it out on everyone around you." You spoke glaring at him finally getting tired of his attitude before turning and leaving and surprise surprise, (I'm being sarcastic), he did absolutely nothing even as you left. But he did gain a new fascination towards you and your little habit.

[areus-in-a-little-cave]

I haven't seen anyone post it so here's Shelby's second statement on Twitter:

[Image ID: Two screenshots of text written by Shubble and posted on @/shelbygraces on Twitter. They read: "I've thought a lot about what I would say when I came back. Firstly I want to say the biggest thank you to everyone showing their support. I have never felt so loved and cared for. And I've never seen so many communities come together to have somebody's back like this. I'm so proud of everyone taking such a powerful stance against these actions. I never could have imagined this response. While I didn't do this for myself, through sharing my story I have healed more parts of myself I had no idea were still pained.

I'd like to address the apology. Quite frankly I've never seen an apology so self centered. It seems to purposely misconstrue the issue I very clearly laid out. My issue was not with being bit. It was with being HURT. And to vaguely apologize for "any hurt" while knowing we needed a safe word because I was being hurt so often on accident, and I continued to be hurt daily, is incredibly disrespectful. But not more disrespectful than not even saying my name. I believe I am referred to as "ex girlfriend" so if you don't know who he's talking about, you might now find out what he did. This is not how you take accountability.

Not only are there no dms whatsoever where it is expressed that I enjoy being hurt by my partner, to imply there was consent in text over an issue that entirely happened in person, where every conversation about it happened in person, is ridiculous. He knows how often I asked him to stop hurting me, that I didn't like it and that I didn't like being covered in bruises all the time. Entirely why he switches to biting my legs, so no one would think I looked abused. But he continued to hurt me. He either didn't take my pleas for it to stop seriously, or he didn't hear them at all.

I felt lost for so long, truly losing myself in this relationship. I abandoned my personal morals, neglected friends and lied for this person. With every time I spoke up being ignored, I shrank. I lost my fight. I stayed locked in a house I had no key for and didn't even try to leave anymore. People ask why we stay, and it's so hard to explain ourselves because we've abandoned all our reasoning. I wasn't safe anymore with this person but I couldn't see that. I loved him and he told me he'd try to stop hurting me.

I'm deeply saddened by how many more friends were hurt by his actions. But I'm so thankful to everyone doing the absolute most in making sure I've been ok over the last few days. Thank you to everyone who's reached out to me. Thank you #ShubbleSupportSquad, every day I read your messages and see your art, and it makes me feel truly like the bravest girl in the world. I think the good that comes out victims sharing their experiences so others can learn and avoid similar pain, or come to terms with ways they were mistreated, is the most important thing in this moment.

You cannot treat people this way without consequence. You cannot pretend you don't know the harm you cause. You cannot pretend going to therapy fixes all past mistakes. All of the love that's been shared for me over the past few days, is for every victim of abuse. Our lives are forever changed by these experiences. I now struggle with memory problems and extreme anxiety. And it may be awhile before I feel fully like myself, whoever she is. But I know I have my spark back. Please remember how brave and how strong you are. We shouldn't be expected to be silent when we are mistreated." End ID]

[the-roadkill-cafe]

hey, haven't seen you in a while, how's it going?

Hey, thanks for the ask!

Things have been....difficult, the past few years. In 2020, right before the world wide lock downs, I moved across the world. My flight was literally one of the last ones allowed into Japan. I had to transition to a new job while in quarantine, then a second transition to face to face work. As I have briefly mentioned ages ago on this blog, before I moved, I lived at home and I was my mother's primary caretaker. Among other things, she had some kind of early onset dementia, cyclic vomiting syndrome, and kidney disease. After I left, my brother and dad took over her care. In early 2022, she passed. If I'm being quite blunt, she passed because at this point of the pandemic, people were beginning to refuse to wear masks, to stay socially distanced, and to take other preventative measures such as air ventilation and filtration. There have been, and continue to be, reams of research on the topic of covid, and it has been handily ignored in the US by both individuals and institutions alike. The local hospital discharged her because she could "eat a cracker and not vomit it up", because they "needed the hospital beds for people who had covid", and because "she would last until her next appointment with her kidney doctor". My mom died of kidney failure and the resulting high blood toxicity, which was entirely preventable if only someone had bothered to adjust her medications and get her on dialysis. Yes, I am very bitter and angry and frustrated, especially with people who have the nerve to ask me why I still mask in public as if covid has magically gone away and is not the cause behind a mass disabling event across the globe. At the same time, I found that my job was...not what I had hoped for. It was only upon my departure that I found out it was breaking a number of labor laws in Japan and was highly exploitative of its employees, to the point that there is currently an ongoing court case and public scandal. No, I will not be going into detail here. It led to a great deal of disillusionment and burn out on my part. I returned to the US in April after four years abroad, and quite frankly I am unsure if I will ever return to Japan except for vacations. The only silver lining is upon explaining my situation in detail to trusted Japanese friends, they assured me that my situation was very unusual even for the country that literally has a word for "death from overwork". I am currently a substitute teacher while I debate next steps for my life. Unfortunately, this all meant that pretty much every aspect of my life has suffered in the past four years. I have not pursued most of my hobbies, while I was in Japan I only regularly talked to one of my friends, and my health (both physical and mental) declined. I am in the midst of trying to recover, and its only been within the last month that I've had the genuine desire to return to long form fic writing, as opposed to rp scribblings and spitballing I've been doing with friends in private. ....wow, this is all super depressing, haha. It's only when I look back that I realize how awful the last four years have been for me. There were bright spots, I promise, and I am looking forward to the next part of my life, whatever it might be. I've also spent this last summer making up for lost time in enjoying myself, and there's been a lot of joy in making plans for myself. But overall, this is the broad strokes of how I have been doing.

[babacontainsmultitudes]

In Defense of the Other Teens

Hello besties :)

SO how about that last episode huh? I've certainly seen a lot of interesting takes and cool art and all that come from it!

And I'm... Here to offer my two cents.

Alright y'all, a few things before we actually get into the meat of it. First, this is a long post. Like, even by my standards this post is pretty fucking long. I hope that I'll be able to keep you entertained throughout at the very least, but maybe grab a cup of tea or coffee or the like before venturing under the cut.

Second, my stance on things will become pretty clear I think fairly early on, if you haven't already put two and two together from the title of this post. That said, there are some fairy bold claims I'm gonna make here, and the fact of the matter is some of them may very well be disproven as soon as today's Teen Talk drops. But I wanted to get this out beforehand, partially as a show of faith in a certain someone, and partially cause honestly I think it's good to practice giving oneself room to be wrong about things. That said, there are still many other points that I think remain important regardless of what we find out next episode (or in teen talk), and I hope you'll find those interesting as well.

Next, honestly, the first few chunks of this little essay really start out as more of a rant/vent than a tight analysis, and I kinda start things in a weird spot if I'm being frank with you, so maybe just try to bear with me for the first few parts, ok? They're still important for the bigger picture I'm trying to paint.

Finally, if I come off as a little extra salty and sassy in this one, I am, but I *promise* it's all in good fun. :)

Alright, so let me tell you my thoughts about Lincoln.

You know what I think? What I honestly, genuinely think? Linc is the most selfless of the teens by a long shot. Like, there's literally no competition. Enough "all he wants to do is help other people and all they ever do is betray him" with respect to Mr. TalkedGrantIntoAPanicAttackThenLeft and more appreciation and recognition for Lincoln Li SayHiToYourDadForMe Wilson, I'm begging you. I could sit here and start listing examples of Linc's selflessness to you for a good long while, but really no set of examples could better illustrate what differentiates Linc from the rest of the teens than this exchange:

**

Scary: "Chosen one…""

Jodie: "Bat’tholemew, we don't use those words." 

Scary: "Somebody they wouldn't expect."

Taylor: "It's me. It's got to be someone that they don't expect."

Scary: "Yeah." 

Taylor: "Yeah." 

Scary: "It's got to be somebody who's really earned—"

Taylor: "Somebody who’s really earned—" 

Scary: "—the respect."

Taylor: "—the right to... And all the knowledge of all the animes together…"

Scary: "Somebody with more knowledge than anybody else."

Taylor: "Someone with— who knows what to do. S… "

Scary: "Somebody who knows what to do to step up."

Taylor: "Somebody who can step up and be the chosen one."

Scary: "And be the chosen one."

Link: "Hey…"

Normal: "Guys, I think… I might be the chosen one…"

**

Yes, funnily enough, it's Linc's absence here that says a lot about him rather than his presence.

What's more, I frankly just don't think it's fair that Linc can do *so much* for the people around him but the *one time* he decides to do something that (seemingly) goes against Normal's plan, it's depicted as some ultimate act of betrayal or Linc "giving up". I feel like we significantly understate how much the other teens *have* done for the sake of Normal's plan (seriously, are we actually gonna ignore Linc stabbing his leg on a candy cane- TWICE??), and how much they've lost in doing so. If every time they fuck something up undoes everything they've sacrificed or done right, well, that's quite the negativity bias!

So why don't we talk about Linc's decision, actually. Did we just witness Lincoln finally snap? Has he given up on Normal's plan to help the doodler? Has he given up on using empathy? Did Lincoln Li Wilson choose the easy option? I would say no! No to all of those! And I think especially upon a relisten of the final moments in the last episode, Linc's train of thought when he breaks the pic is actually quite clear. And yes, this is about Linc showing empathy towards Scary, but I want to talk about the actual implications of that a bit further as well. Let's start by looking at the final bits of dialogue leading up to the breaking of anchor:

**

Linc: "Scary, what are you even doing?"

Scary: "You gotta destroy it"

Linc: "We can't- you just heard the Doodler's gonna make the world worse it's gonna kill we just gotta find something, why do you have to destroy it-"

Scary: "You don't know that!"

Linc: "I mean you don't know it's not that way we can find another way to destroy it"

Scary: "No, Willy said that it's easier to control if we destroy the anchors"

[ANTHONY EXPLAINS THE SPECIFICS OF WHAT WILLY WOULD HAVE TOLD SCARY]

Linc: "Well we're not gonna do it that way okay, come on like, the easy way is-"

Scary: "Who died and made you the leader?"

Linc: "The easy way is usually the bad way right? Sometimes the better thing is harder."

Scary: "This is easier what you're just gonna tell the pic 'Oh I love you I'm so nice to you' and it's just gonna give you all its secrets that's not how life works."

[LINK TRIES SAYING I LOVE YOU TO THE PIC AND NORM EXPLAINS THAT HE ALREADY TRIED THAT]

Linc: "Okay well like you're right it's gonna be hard but- I know it's not a person but I don't want more people to die we've already killed enough people like can you just do one thing with us and just try to find a way to make this-"

Scary: "The Doodler is gonna kill more people you're not seeing the bigger picture!"

Normal: "What no, Linc don't listen to her!"

Scary: "Listen to me!"

[AND THEN LINC SNAPS THE PIC]

**

Okay there's... A lot to unpack here. I'll start by pointing out what I think are a few key things to take note of:

- Linc is seemingly adamant on choosing the empathetic route and not letting any more people get hurt

- Linc affirms that sometimes the harder route is the better one

- Scary rejects the notion that simply saying "I love you" or otherwise being kind in words could actually do anything

- Norm says "don't listen to her"

- Linc's decision to break the pic only occurs after Scary says what she does (above point), seemingly in conflict with what he himself said only moments prior about not taking the violent route.

What I think needs to be understood about Linc is that, more than anyone in the group, Linc's decisions are calculated. Yes they often catch us off guard (seriously the amount of times Linc has done something that's made me actually gasp in shock is a bit crazy), but once the dust has settled, his decisions are always clearly consistent with who Linc is as a person and his philosophy, and accordingly, never come from a place of selfishness. The humor of it aside, when Linc says that he never misses any shot that he takes (:( Can't find the exact quote), he is entirely correct (and admittedly while I probably should gather various examples to show you what I mean, Linc swapping places with himself and Nicky really is the most perfect demonstration I could possibly ask for, as it showcases both Linc's aforementioned selflessness and how Linc's seemingly shocking decisions are never actually accidents or executed with uncertainty on his end). Try to keep these above points in mind as we move forward.

Next, let's consider the pros and cons for Linc of breaking or not breaking the pic, as seen from Linc's perspective. I suppose the general impression I've gotten thus far is that many people seem to be interpreting Linc breaking the pic as a likely (or sure) sign that he has "given up" on Normal's plan, and given in to choosing the "easier" route. This, I perhaps a bit boldly argue, raises a number of questions and ultimately implodes in on itself as an interpretation after even a brief consideration of them. At the most basic, and perhaps least interesting level, it's not like it would be that hard to search a little bit for some demonstration of love (especially with a certain pair of will-they-won't-they partners not too far away... Though I feel like the pic also could have been interesting as applied to some of the other characters around right now? Anyways...) You could say then, that maybe Linc simply doesn't care about using empathy, and has ultimately lost confidence in Norm's plan by this point, so he takes the path of absolute least resistance cause, well, whatever. But wait, didn't Linc *just* say that they weren't going to do things that way, and that he doesn't want more people to be killed? (You might say then that he thinks Scary has a point on "not seeing the bigger picture" and believes that choosing violence here will result in less deaths, but frankly I just don't think there's anything promising or compelling enough about Scary's argument here for Linc to have any real reason to believe it, all the more so given Willy’s involvement). Are we to think, then, that Linc changes his mind purely on a whim, and a whim influenced by Scary of all people no less? Frankly, I see this as a severe underestimation of Linc's strength of character, and this is where we really do need to consider the degree of calculation and confidence that goes into Linc's decision making and risk taking. What I'm saying is, Linc simply doesn't fall victim to selfish impulses that way (and within the group this is a quality unique to him!). Moreover, even if Linc might have his doubts in Norm and his plan, he still has significantly more reason to go with that than to listen to Scary. Seriously, Linc has every reason to not listen to Scary here. When it comes to what Linc cares about the most, Scary has without a doubt harmed Linc more than the Doodler ever could (The significance of Tony Pepperoni being stabbed in Linc's home in front of his dad  c a n n o t  be forgotten or understated!!!). Even if Linc didn't care at all about showing empathy to the Doodler, if he were acting purely out of selfishness he would still have more reason to do so if only because it means not giving the satisfaction to or otherwise helping Scary (and Willy).

But Scary is confused, and Scary is lonely, and from her perspective she probably does feel betrayed. We (and Linc) are given some important information regarding Scary in this episode. Firstly, we get a glimpse into how Willy has twisted things and convinced her that violence is the better option (not because it's easier per se, but because more people will apparently be saved in the long run). Second, Linc finally understands what Scary needs... Or at least what she doesn't need. Specifically, he understands that simply saying "I love you" isn't enough. He understands that Scary will never believe it no matter how many times it is said, and that to really prove to Scary that she is loved and get through to her, he needs to show her, has to prove to her that, despite everything, he is still on her side.

Linc, I dare argue more than any of the teens, has so much reason to leave Scary behind. But he understands her now, and, against Normal's wishes, listens to her. In a weird way (if I'm not dead wrong about this whole empathy thing), this kind of is Linc's "throne of the doodler" equivalent. It would be so easy to not break the pic, to not choose to (help and) empathize with Scary after all the pain she has caused him, but that's not the kind of person Linc is, and I hope the points I raised earlier make that reasonably clear.

So no, I don't think Linc chose the easy option. I think he believes himself when he says that sometimes the harder route is the better one, and followed through on this when he took his shot.

Sincerely, if you think the Doodler is just a scared teen deserving of empathy and sacrifice and making tough decisions, but Scary isn't, then I think you've missed the point. The Doodler is just acting out and needs help, but when Scary or Linc break an anchor through violence (be it violently empathetic or not), we give up on them? We hope for Normal to abandon them when they're hurting and depict it as deserved or even righteous? I can't get behind that, I'm sorry. 

Furthermore, whereas Norm would certainly be justified in feeling concerned for the Doodler's sake if Linc's actions count as an act of violence, apart from that like, if Norm chooses to interpret Linc reaching out and showing support to someone as lost and alone and in need of help as Scary as a personal attack against him, either as a betrayal of their friendship (Norm is very jealousy-prone we’ve known this from the start!) or as a direct attack against Norm's perfect little violence-free narrative that lets him be the hero regardless of who gets left behind wait does he actually just hate Hero cause of her name hm, then that is, respectfully, completely a problem with him, and not with Linc. I think if Normal actually snaps from this, then his entire philosophy of choosing empathy is based on a lie, and Norm just wants to follow the narrative that allows him to be the hero on paper, so that everybody finally loves him.

Well that's a bit harsh huh. Believe it or not, I'm genuinely not trying to throw Norm under the bus here. But... I am trying to expose his flaws and shortcomings in relation to the other teens. This is important moving forward, because in refusing to seriously acknowledge the fact that Norm, while still having plenty of good in his heart, is someone who can be quite self-centered, and ultimately cares about being well-perceived and loved first and foremost, we become blind to the ways in which Norm, like Scary, is vulnerable to future instances of manipulation. That bit on appearance vs. true compassion isn't mere interpretation, by the way, Will has stated this quite clearly in episode 27 of teen talk (and in general I'd really rather not rely on that kind of bonus content in these sorts of posts but, well, it's hard to ignore this):

**

Will: (In reference to Norm's scene in the pride layer) "I feel like I understand Normal better now, like a kind of darker side of his psyche that's different from Henry... Like Henry's very concerned with being a good person but I don't think is super concerned with whether people like him or not, whereas Normal is like a little concerned with being a good person but *mostly* concerned- it's two different ways to solve love [he explains what it implies for Henry], the other is 'if everyone else likes me, that means I can take that in as well'."

**

I need to stress that I am not trying to imply that Norm is anywhere close to being a bad person, btw. Normal, like everybody else, has his flaws, but has proven that he has plenty of good qualities as well. What I *am* trying to imply is that Norm does have a tendency to put himself at the center of things, and is from a more meta standpoint benefiting from a narrative that puts him at the center of things (more or less guaranteeing that he will be seen as a hero of sorts no matter what- evident even in how fandom largely depicts him vs the other teens), and I'm just saying that if ever he found himself in Oakvale by some chance he might really appreciate the enforced anti-violence initiative put in place by the town's noble leader who really just gets him and praises him and-

I know (almost) nobody wants to hear this, but if Normal actually had a villain arc, it would most likely consist of him falling down the same path that Barry did. Barry was a hero, on paper. And the people around him certainly saw him as such, and loved and accepted him in some sense of the word, which is what he truly wanted at the end of the day. And he got rid of all the violence!!! 

But none of that makes Barry a good person.

*sniff sniff*

Hey... Has anyone else noticed the distinct lack of stinky weebs in this post?

As much as I myself am a bit more interested in the Linc side of things right now, I do need to talk a bit (or a lot) about Taylor too. My little guy! You haven't even had a proper, serious character arc yet and people have already decided that you don't have a shot vis a vis the upcoming anchors, despite easily being the most emotionally resilient and stable of the group. You know what, I'm gonna throw in most loyal too. If you'll humor me...

Taylor may not be the most empathetic of the teens (in fact, he may very well be the least), but this doesn't mean he doesn't care, and doesn't mean he isn't kind in his own way. What's particular about Taylor's brand of loyalty compared to the other teens that I think might make it a bit easy to overlook is that it while it is very strong, it tends to be reserved only for the people he chooses to call his friends (oh, and his mom!). There's no question of Taylor's choice to disregard what Nick tells him and go back to save Linc from the FBI, it embodies some of the most fundamental parts of who Taylor is as a person. Which I guess is to say that, there are ultimately only so many people Taylor chooses to have in his circle, but those bonds are extremely important to him, and he really is ride or die about them. I think that this aspect is most obvious when looking either at Taylor's relationship with Linc or Cassandra, but also with Hermie actually! Oh, and similar to the example with the FBI, Taylor's response to the whole Tony situation is perfectly consistent with this aspect of his character as well. Tony was not part of Taylor's circle, not someone he chose to let himself get attached to (because when Taylor gets attached to someone, it is indeed a very deliberate choice), so no, he's not gonna care that much about Tony's death. But he is bothered by Scary's betrayal. He is bothered because, even if they weren't the closest, Scary was, I would argue, still part of Taylor's circle. And yes, he is bothered by Linc leaving him alone in the last episode for the same reason, except that in this case it's probably worse actually. I know I'm straying pretty far from the original topic here, but still I think it's worth exploring the interesting position this puts Taylor in going forward, especially with respect to Nick. 

("Seriously baba when did this become about Nicky literally what are you talking about right now?")

Thus far, Taylor has made it very clear that no, he is not going to allow Nick to be someone he becomes attached to. There's a risk, in loving and becoming loyal to someone as strongly as Taylor does, and Nicky has not yet proven himself to be a risk worth taking. So what happens next? Nicky is (finally) around after all, so what might the future hold for little Taylor? On the one hand, Nicky's "words of advice" might begin to get through to Taylor, which could leave him in a pretty dangerous position. Taylor takes a big risk every time he lets someone in (everyone does but Taylor more than all the others because of how fully he loves and trusts and protects, is what I'm saying- er... He's a lot like his dad that way actually!), so what if Nick convinces him that nobody is worth that risk, and that everyone you hold dear will ultimately betray you? Well, I think we'd be left with a very lonely Taylor! Conversely, what if Nicky decides to prove himself worthy of Taylor's love? What if Taylor comes around and lets him in? ahaha shit I feel like there's a bad joke to be made about Taylor keeping his dad at arms length and his dad not having any arms right now god fucking damn it what even is this post. Will Nicky be able to maintain that trust? If he abandoned Taylor again, after Taylor has allowed himself to become attached (or if something happens to Nicky cause lets face it horrible things tend to happen to Nicky), I think Taylor might finally have a hard time getting back up.

What the fuck was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I guess going back to Norm, on the one hand, I guess on the more extreme end Taylor could actually take Linc's actions very hard, in which case I actually could see him sticking with Norm as an act of self-preservation. That said, I don't personally feel that this will be the case, that Linc is still ultimately in Taylor's circle, and accordingly Taylor's loyalty towards Linc will persist, albeit perhaps with a seed of doubt sewn at the back of his mind. And I don't think in that case that it's fair to frame this as Taylor betraying Normal? As others have pointed out, Norm frankly just hasn't really earned much in the way of Taylor's friendship. Really, as far as I'm concerned, Taylor doesn't really owe Norm much of anything at all. From the very beginning Norm has made it clear that he doesn't particularly care for Taylor, and ultimately has let his own jealousy and desire for attention (especially Linc and Hermie's attention) get in the way of ever really getting to know or appreciate Taylor beyond the surface level. Would I call it betrayal for Taylor to choose to continue to support his best friend instead of the guy who told him that anime isn't real? No, and I think the double standard is pretty obvious if we consider the reverse. That is, if Taylor chose Norm over Linc, after everything he and Linc have been through, would we be framing Linc as the victim of some grand betrayal? I genuinely don't think we would, at least not to the extent that we would with Norm. I suppose I'm saying all this, because well as aforementioned I just find there's been a lot of undeserved cynicism towards Taylor, and I think a lot of it does genuinely come from Normal's privileged position within the narrative as its de facto "hero" and what is most convenient for maintaining that image (and when I say "hero", that does include "righteous villains" who "deserve(d) to snap", just so we're clear on that).

Hmmmm I kinda wanna talk about Taylor and Normal as each other's foils but this post is getting a bit long isn't it... *Sigh* Not today, no, not today.

......Okay but still I have to say that if Taylor actually does finally get his "main character moment" I actually think that would be a great opportunity for Norm to acknowledge, reconcile, and learn to cope both with his jealousy and the parts of himself that are self-centered. Conversely, if Taylor does for one reason or another stray a bit too far into the habit of keeping people at arm's length out of fear of abandonment, betrayal, or the like, I think he could learn something from Norm too (having trouble phrasing exactly what I mean here, so perhaps I'll save the full notion for another time!)

So that's... Yeah, I think that's the most important stuff. I debated on sort of elaborating on examples of Norm's major character flaws, but despite everything my intent here was first and foremost to offer a "defense of the other teens" more than anything else. Though I will say that I think there is something to be said about how Normal's self-centeredness gets in the way of his ability to actually help those around him (Grant and Taylor both being great examples in "The Staircase"), how this contrasts with Linc's willingness to actually listen to and figure out what Scary needs in this most recent episode, and accordingly what Normal could potentially learn from Linc about not just choosing the route that's easiest for you.

[batgirlzine]

Hello, Batfans!

Mod Kye here.

First and foremost, thank you so much for your patience, and my sincerest apologies for how long this has all taken to wrangle together. I have a handful of long-awaited updates below on previous delays, digital copies today, wrap-up and leftover sales, so please read carefully!

To start, I'd like to issue an apology for the delays this project has suffered over the course of its run and offer a bit of transparency. This year was unexpectedly very hard personally and health-wise, and without going into detail about illness for the sake of sensitivity, took me out of contact on several weeks-long stretches and occasions, leaving my team in the dark without news—and by extension all of you. Such long radio silence and delays are not what you want in a project that deals with people's money, trust and time, and I know it's been frustrating, and for that I'm so sorry. My lack of communication was difficult and monumentally unfair for everyone involved, and I wanted to take a moment to thank Mods Ari and Michi, as well as Kait, for working behind the scenes to keep things running, to update all of you when they could, and for going above and beyond in ways there aren’t words for, when I was unable or unwilling to step up. If any readers are in the zine scene (as regular buyers, or as contributors yourselves) and see them on a project in the future, please check it out, because they’re a force like no other, and will make an amazing experience out of anything they run. They are, quite frankly, the only reason this project was started and finished, and deserve all the support you guys have sent and more for what they went through and accomplished despite the difficulties I caused them, our contributors, and our timeline to you, our customers.

Order Fulfillment

All customer orders were mailed out June 2nd. As I was unable to update BigCartel with tracking at the time, it meant that most of you were not notified. I’m incredibly sorry. I’ve spoken to a handful of folks about their packages this week, but from our internal shipping system, it appears everything was safely delivered. If you have not received your package, or have had any issues with your delivery, please touch base with me at batgirlszine@gmail.com about your order!

Contributor bundles will be going out this weekend, which means it’s time for…

Digital Bundles

An email with a direct link to our wonderful digital bundles will follow this update that just went out in about an hour just to please email spam servers, so please keep your eyes peeled and on your inboxes if you're waiting on that! If you have any issues receiving it, make sure you check spam/junk folders first and then reach out so I can help ensure you receive it!

And Finally, Leftovers!

Last but certainly not least, a final announcement for anyone with a friend or loved one eagerly awaiting getting their hands on the cool book and wicked merch they saw you get recently. Our leftover sales will be opening Wednesday, September 20th! If you know someone who missed out on sales the first time around and would love to support this incredible project, please spread the word—or if you’d like to grab an extra keychain for your collection, we’ll see you then!

A separate post with a full announcement will be made tomorrow to circulate just so it doesn't get lost in the update here.

Thank you so much for reading this far, and for sticking with us and supporting this project.

[smolwritingchick]

Forced To Believe Chapter 49- That Supernatural Stuff Don't Work

Chapter Summary: Morgan is freed from Sister Abigail as she reunites with The Shield

Words: 4,000+

-------

On Raw, Morgan was sitting backstage as the crowd gave her a positive reaction. She no longer had any of the dark makeup on her. She looked like her regular self.

Moments later, the Wyatts walked over to her and she stood up. 

"Rose...you look well," Bray said as she showed a faint smile and nodded. "How do you feel?" 

"Better." 

"It felt good to get closure from The Shield, didn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"You accept Sister Abigail's truths?" 

"Yes, I accept her truths." 

"And did it satisfy you to slam that boy down the mat, off the top rope, last night? All the pain and frustration you had in your body...you took it out on him and it felt great didn't it?" 

"Yes." 

"I have a request, for tonight's ceremony," 

"What is it?"

"Sister Abigail has always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress to a ceremony. I want her to receive that gift. I want to summon Sister Abigail and give her one last goodbye before we all move on from her. I want you to take her place, tonight. Her work is done. She saved you and you are a true follower of the Buzzards. Now we must thank her for her sacrifices. Will you do it?" 

The crowd chants 'No' while Morgan starts to smile at him. 

"Of course." She replied as the crowd boos. 

"Excellent." Bray grinned. "The ceremony will begin tonight, in the ring. Rosa will help you with the dress. And I know Sister Abigail wants to wear her favorite color. You remember right?" 

"How could I not?"

"Good." He kissed her forehead and let out a dark giggle. 

Once the Wyatt family left, Morgan slowly dropped her smile and began to frown, narrowing her eyes, which caused the crowd to get excited.

"Uh oh...was that..." Cole trailed off

"Wait a minute..." King looked on, intrigued.

-------

Later, Morgan was walking backstage and stopped once she heard the voices of The Shield. She leaned on the wall and turned her head to the side as she listened to them. 

She saw an irate Ambrose, wearing his Shield hoodie and black tape on his hands. His hair was messy and damp. He was still that egotistical man that stole her heart. She continued to look on as she saw the fearless architect and the powerful enforcer looking at the erratic man. The situation did not look pretty. Dean had his hand on his shoulder and looked down at the ground. 

"So walk me through this, one time." Seth trailed off. 

"I've been repeating myself!" Dean interrupted. 

"Where were you last night?" 

"I've been repeating myself for 24 hours now, all right? I'm gettin' a little sick quite frankly, of you two ganging up on me..." 

"We're not ganging up on you " 

"And I'm gettin' a little sick of explainin' myself! So, if uh, if all that's not good enough for you two, and if you don't trust me, then whatever, whatever." 

"That's not what I meant...That's not it!" 

"I lost my girlfriend! I lost the best thing that ever happened to me because of my stupid mistake! I have a lot on my mind right now!" Ambrose confessed as Morgan looked down. "And now she made her choice to stay with The Wyatts. She's gone. Forever. I'm not gonna even bother with this anymore. I lost her. It's too late. She doesn't need saving anymore, so forget about The Wyatts. I'm outta here..." He walked away. 

"I dunno if I believe him...I want to, it makes a lot of sense but so many times now? It's just...over and over and over..." Seth sighed while Morgan walked away from the scene. 

As she walked backstage, deep in thought, Rosa found her. 

"Morgan! Oh, Morgan! I know you hear me!" she skipped over to her and dragged her into a locker room to show her the two dresses for the ceremony. "Look at these! Bray said he wants you to wear the dress that's Sister Abigail's favorite color." 

"Oh don't worry, I know exactly which one to wear," Morgan answered

Before they could continue to talk, The Bellas barged in and shoved Rosa out of the room, slamming it in her face as she complained. 

"What the hell is your problem?" Brie asked as she looked at Morgan. 

"What...?" Morgan bluntly asked. 

"You're not gonna go along with this, are you? Don't do this. Open your eyes!" 

"Guys, my eyes are open and I know what I'm doing-­" 

"Morgan! What happened to you? You're a totally different person! This is not the Morgan we know." Nikki exclaimed. "Please just walk away from this-" 

"Stop." Morgan retorted. "I know what I'm doing." 

Brie and Nikki glanced at each other and nodded. All of sudden, Nikki slapped her in the face as the crowd 'Ohs' at the impact. 

"Did it work?" She asked, looking hopeful. 

Morgan rubbed her cheek, narrowing her eyes at them. "Ow...what was that for?!" 

"Oh my gosh, it didn't work. Morgan! You would have ripped my head off if I slapped you. Come on, you gotta wake up!" Nikki exclaimed. 

"Look, I am awake. I'm fine, okay? Calm down, you don't need to help me. I know what I'm doing." she reassured

"Looks like we can't save you..." 

"I never needed saving!" She snapped, catching the attention of Bellas. 

Nikki smirked at the sound of her voice and nodded. 

"Okay. Suit yourself." Nikki looked happy and left with Brie.

Morgan sighed loudly and sat down on the couch. Moments later, she looked at the two dresses. 

"Okay..." 

-------

After changing into her dress, Melanie prepared herself at the Gorilla while Randy walked by with an amused smile

"Here comes the bride...here comes the bride." He sang. 

"Shut up! I'm not getting married." she giggled

Brie and Nikki giggled as they helped her get ready.

"You kind of remind me of Lita when she wore her dress during her wedding with Kane," Nikki said. 

"Why does everyone think I'm getting married?" Melanie chuckled.

"Okay, you're getting ready for a ceremony with the Wyatts. Happy now?" Brie grinned.

"Much better," Melanie replied. 

--------

Rosa, Luke, Erick, and Bray were in the ring and the crowd gave them mixed reactions. 

"Tonight...tonight you shall witness the summoning of a woman who has guided Morgan and has shown her the truths. Rose...I command you to come out here and reveal yourself." Bray announced.

The Wyatt Family theme came on as everyone looked at the stage. 

They waited a few moments but no one came out. 

"Is she coming out?" King asked but then the crowd started to cheer loudly. 

Rosa's jaw dropped while Erick and Luke stood with blank stares. Morgan slowly walked out in a Black Dress. She had black flowers in her hands and her hair was pinned up in a bun

"She-­she's wearing black!" King announced.

"And Bray does not look happy," Cole stated as Bray slowly started to look at her with a scowl. 

Morgan stood on the stage and looked at the crowd before looking back at The Wyatts. She started to look annoyed as she made her way down the ring. She wasn't fond of wearing dresses like this. Especially if a dead woman wanted to wear one. 

"Maybe black isn't Sister Abigail's favorite color," King said as Morgan exhaled and tightly gripped the bouquet. "At least she's wearing Sister Abigail's necklace with her favorite color." 

Celeste tweets 'Ha! That's the color a certain eccentric man loves on WWEMorgan101.' 

The Outspoken Diva slowly walked down the ramp, looking straight at Bray. 

Bray could not believe what she was wearing. He said Sister Abigail's favorite color, not black. He started pacing around while she walked up the steps and slowly got in the ring by the middle rope. The theme faded out as the crowd chanted Morgan's name. 

A dramatic pause occurred as Morgan and Bray stared each other down. "...I thought I told you to wear Sister Abigail's favorite color," he said. 

"I know but I­-" 

"I told you her favorite color." 

"Yes­" 

"I told you the story about how Sister Abigail always dreamed of wearing a bridal dress one day. You...you disrespected me...you disrespected the family. You...you are rebelling." 

"It's just a slight change. I thought it would be better. I'm sorry I disobeyed you." 

Bray eyed her down. "That kiss...that kiss was more powerful than Sister Abigail's kiss, wasn't it? Is that why you rebelled? 

"No."

"Do you still believe in The Shield?" He asked as the crowd screamed loudly

"In the hot seat now," JBL said. "Say yes! Please!"

"No...I don't believe in The Shield." Morgan replied. 

"Then go back and change," Bray ordered.

"What?" King asked. 

"Please don't do it," JBL said. 

The crowd chanted 'No!' while Morgan sighed and got in between the ropes. She stopped and got back in the ring as the crowd cheered. 

"On second thought..." She said. "No."

"Whoa!" King exclaimed as Bray glared at her. 

"Change. Right now!" He ordered but she shook her head. 

Bray's temper started to get the best of him. He was a leader and was not used to such disrespect...other than Daniel Bryan rebelling against him in that steel cage, a while back. 

"No. You do not disobey me! You do not disobey me!" He yelled. "If it wasn't for me, you would be nothing! I made you into the woman you are today!"

"Is he kidding me?" JBL asked.

Celeste tweets 'Oh hell no! Did he just say he made WWEMorgan101? Injustice!'

The Bellas tweets 'How dare he!? Bray needs to shut his mouth. He didn't make WWEMorgan101 at all!' 

Morgan narrowed her eyes at him while Bray started pacing around while venting. 

"If it wasn't for me, you would be broken and hurt by The Shield!" He shouted. "I did everything for you! I comforted you! I made The Shield feel the same way you felt when they betrayed you! I made you get closure! I made you stronger and wiser!" 

Celeste tweets 'WWEMorgan I know you aren't gonna let this man speak to you like this!'

The Bellas tweets 'Why are you taking this? You don't deserve this WWEMorgan101. Speak up!' 

"You are just like that cousin of yours...you are ungrateful...ungracious..." 

"How dare he? That is the Outspoken Diva he is talking to! She deserves some more respect than that!" JBL yelled. 

Celeste tweets 'What the fudge!? Are you kidding me!? I know you are not gonna take that WWEMorgan101!' 

The Bellas tweet 'He talked about your family. You better do something about that WWEMorgan101!' 

"You belong with the family." Bray declared.

The Bellas tweet 'No! #MorganBelongsWithTheShield' 

"And you will obey me. You came to me for guidance and I shall give it to you. And I will guide you by commanding you to change so we can get this ceremony out of the way." Bray went on.

Morgan slowly began to smirk at him, tilting her head to the side.

"Is she about to break?" Cole asked while Roman and Rollins were spotted in the crowd. "Uh oh! It's Roman and Seth!" 

"Where's Dean!?" JBL exclaimed as The Wyatts turned their attention to the crowd. 

Bray starts to order Erick and Luke to make sure they don't come into the ring. 

Turning to the stage, The Outspoken Diva drops her bouquet as she sees Ambrose walking down the ramp. 

Nikki tweets 'So romantic...here comes Morgan's Knight and Shiny armor...and he's wearing leather. That's hot. Go get her!' 

Ambrose meets up with Seth and Roman as they surround the ring. 

"This is gonna be good!" JBL looked on. 

While the Wyatts and Rosa are distracted by The Shield, Morgan slowly takes out her hairpins and lets her hair down. 

"What is going on!?" Bray yelled, still focused on The Shield who got on the apron.

All of a sudden, Morgan quickly grabs Erick and Luke, putting them in the double backfire position. 

"Yes!" JBL yelled as Morgan spun on one knee and stopped to turn her attention to Bray and Rosa while Luke and Erick rolled out of the ring. 

She stands up while Bray looks on in shock. The Shield smirk at the sight while Morgan rips off Sister Abigail's necklace, stomps on it to destroy it, and begins to slowly smirk at Rosa and Bray. 

"Yes! Yes! She's back!" King shouted.

As soon as The Shield get in the ring, Bray quickly escapes the ring while Rosa looks at the Wyatt Family at the end of the ramp. 

"Where are you going!?" She yelled. 

The crowd cheers as she slowly turns around and looks at The Shield and Morgan giving her dirty looks. 

"Hi Rosa, remember me? Grab that bitch." She demanded as Seth and Dean grabbed her. 

"No! No!" Rosa screamed.

She was kicking and screaming and did not want to face that angry Samoan who was glaring at her. She was more afraid of him than Morgan. Roman still had some unfinished business with her because of that low blow. 

"No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Let me go!" she begged.

All of a sudden, The Wyatts slide back in and attack The Shield. Rosa gets released while Morgan spears her as the crowd cheers. 

"Here we go!" Cole shouted as The Philly Diva started unloading on her. 

"Everybody is going after everybody here!" King looked on. 

Morgan picks Rosa up to put her in the backfire position but she quickly escapes and runs out of the ring.

"You better run!" Morgan yelled. 

That chick has a beating with her name on it. She can run but she can't hide. 

Turning around, she strikes Bray with a spinning kick but then he grabs her by the neck. 

"You do not betray me like this!" He yelled while she tried to make him release her. 

He was stronger than she thought. 

But then Ambrose gets in the way and attacks him while Morgan falls down and leans on the bottom turnbuckle to watch the action as her hair is in her face. Ambrose throws Bray out of the ring while Seth and Roman throw out Luke and Erick. Seth and Roman slide out of the ring as they begin to mouth off to The Wyatts while Bray restrains them. 

"And The Shield hold the ring," Cole announced as the crowd cheered while Morgan and Ambrose were the last two in the ring. 

Morgan moves her hair from her face while Ambrose catches his breath and then turns his head to her. 

"Come on Morgan." JBL looked on in anticipation. 

Ambrose then rolled out of the ring and grabbed her gently to pick her up bridal style as The Shield's theme came on around the arena. 

"Yes! Thank you! I love it!" JBL cheered

Nikki tweets 'This is so hot. Nothing like Dean Ambrose in a leather jacket picking you up bridal style. #FangirlsBeJealous' 

"You okay?" Dean asked. 

"Yes," She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt herself begin to smile as the feeling of his strong arms made her feel safe

The Wyatt Family and Rosa watch on while Bray begins to glare at them 

"The Shield staying strong," Cole said as the former lovers glanced at each other and then looked at the Wyatts. 

"And Morgan is still a believer!" JBL grinned

Morgan tweets twice 'Looks like the faking paid off. I was free since that kiss. Supernatural stuff don't work on the Outspoken Diva. Sorry #YouFailed #ImFree' 

'Follow the buzzards? #GetTheFOuttaHere #TheShieldAllDay!'

Bray replies 'You shall pay for your sins WWEMorgan101' 

-----

'WWE Exclusive Video' 

Morgan had her bag with her, walking backstage. 

"Leaving without saying goodbye or a thank you?" She turned around and looked at Ambrose who was leaning against the wall.

"Thanks..." she replied

"When did you come back to us?"

"The kiss," she answered. "Although I couldn't say what I wanted you to do, you knew. So I appreciate it. Wrestle me and kiss me. Sister Abigail screwed around and found out. I had to pretend to still be a part of The Wyatt Family for a bit after. After I broke free, my energy just went to zero. Must be a side effect of Sister Abigail unpossessing me. But...I'm ok now. I'm fine. Thank you,"

She needed time alone to get her head on straight. Dean understood that and surprisingly wanted to wait for her. 

"Good. I'm glad you're back. I missed you,"

She smiled softly. "I missed you, too. See you," she walked away as he smirked softly. 

-------

'NXT ArRIVAL PPV' 

The Shield were shown right after the Wyatt Family promo. 

"Listen to the Wyatt Family, boys, listen to em! Making outrageous claims sounds stupid to me." Dean retorted. "Stupid ugly beards, and your stupid camel masks..." 

"Whoa whoa whoa," Roman spoke up.

"Tryna scare somebody..." Dean went on.

"What?" Seth asked.

"Camel mask?" Roman questioned.

"Camel mask on his head." Dean declared.

"It's a llama mask, bro." Roman corrected.

"What?" Seth asked in a high voice. "What are you talkin' about?" 

"I just went to the zoo, it's a llama mask," Roman mentioned. 

"It's a camel," Dean said in a low voice.

"Hey! It's a lamb." Seth spoke up. "And that's beside the point."

Roman and Dean start mouthing off, what animal they think the mask is but they get cut off by a feminine laugh. 

"Haha oh my gosh...Did you-did you just say camel? Llama? Lamb? Okay, you all are wrong. It's a sheep. S.H.E.E.P." Morgan stated. 

"No, it ain't." Seth disagreed.

"No way." Dean shook his head.

"Sheep? Naw, It's a llama." Roman replied. 

"Oh my gosh, I've been near and closer to The Wyatts these past few weeks, I know the animal when I see it. Ha, I guess I'm the smartest one in The Shield, now. 100 points for Morgan!" She showed a thumbs up at the camera and grinned. The Shield gave her playful dirty looks. She turned her attention to Dean and nudged him in the side. "Don't worry buddy, don't be sad that I'm right and you're wrong. " 

"It's a camel!" he exclaimed. 

"Nope." She grinned.

"Llama!" Roman shouted

"Nope." 

"Lamb!" Seth exclaimed. 

"Nope." 

"Are you kidding me? I think I know my farm animals." Dean said. 

"Haha, you think!" She pointed out.

"I know. It's a camel. Read it and weep, sweetheart."

Morgan scoffed and stepped up to him. "Are you challenging me?"

"Uh oh," Seth looked on, amused. 

"Maybe I am. It's a camel." Dean said. 

"Sheep," Morgan stated. 

"Camel." He smirked. 

"All right, that is it!" She put him in a headlock. "Say it's a sheep!" 

"Ah! No! It's a freakin' camel!" 

Roman and Seth start laughing at them. Morgan missed this. The good times she would have with The Shield. It made all the troubles go away. 

"Say it!" 

"Camel!" 

"Sheep!" 

"Camel!" 

"Say it's a sheep!"

"All right! It's a sheep!" 

Morgan grinned and released him. "Thank you. So, anyone else want to disagree with me?" She turned to Seth and Roman while Dean rubbed the back of his head. 

"Sheep it is." Roman nodded.

"Sheep it is, Morgan." Seth sighed.

"Awesome. See how easy that was?" she grinned.

"Anyway, the point is, The Wyatts did not lay the foundation at NXT. They refer to me as the architect for a reason." Seth said. "I was the first ever NXT champion, and we laid the foundation for the future of this business, how we do that? By taking out The Undertaker, The Rock, John Cena, Sheamus, every single person...that goes in our way." 

Roman chuckled at his statement.

"Over the last year, we dominated and we have become the emergent leaders of the next generation. Believe that...and believe in The Shield." Seth continued. 

"And sheep!" Morgan grinned.

"All right, it's a lamb!" Seth argued. 

"Sheep! Oh my gosh, do you not know your animals?" she shouted as The Shield started to protest again. 

---------

During Smackdown, Rosa was in the makeup area, bragging about herself to the makeup artist who was working on her face.

"I should be Divas Champion because I'm one of the most dominant women in this company. I am one of the most talked about divas now. I betrayed The Shield...I was with the Wyatts...I am on top of the world. My career is going so well." She grinned. 

Morgan walks over to her from behind and the make-up artist backs away. 

Rosa had her eyes closed. "I wonder what would happen when I am in the Hall of Fame. I wonder who I want to induct me..." Rosa wondered. 

The Philly Diva rolls her eyes and opens a container of blush, beginning to shake it on her.

"What in the-what is this!?" Rosa quickly got out of the chair and brushed the blush off her body. She turned around to see Morgan smirking at her. "What are you doing!?" 

The Outspoken Diva throws the blush on her face and tackles her onto the table as she starts unloading on her. 

"Morgan! Morgan!" The Total Divas ran and grabbed her off of Rosa.

"Get off of me!" Morgan yelled as she tried to fight her way out of their grasp. 

"I am gonna get you, you bitch! You do not put your hands on me! I want you in a match tonight!" Rosa screamed while Cameron and Naomi held her back. "Get off of me!" she pushed them off. 

"Oh hell no!" Cameron yelled. 

"Are you kidding me?" Naomi exclaimed and then they started attacking her. 

"All hell has broken loose!" Cole yelled. 

"Let them fight!" JBL shouted as some of the heel divas came to Rosa's aid and fought the rest of the Total Divas. 

The refs and some superstars try to break up the chaos while Morgan storms off. 

"What the hell is going on!?" Triple H yelled. "Stop this right now! Enough!"

"It was all Morgan! She attacked me out of nowhere!" Rosa shouted.

"You started it! Don't put this on Morgan!" Cameron yelled while Triple H looked annoyed. 

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

At The Shield's Hideout, Dean, Roman and Seth were getting themselves together. 

"You got yourself together, tonight? Or are you gonna go rogue on us, again?" Roman retorted. 

"Ah!" Dean yelled and turned to face him. "Always telling me that I need to relax, all right? Is he still mad about the DQ thing?" he turned to Seth. 

"The DQ thing?" Roman asked.

"He's bringing that up again..."

"It's a thing?"

"Look, I don't know what you want from me, all right?"

"A DQ is a loss. Two losses in under a year and a half. Two losses in one week, why? Because of you." 

"Maybe if you aren't always yellin' at me, all the time!" Ambrose yelled. 

"Hey! Hey! Zip it, all right?" Seth exclaimed.

"Would you take care of this?" Dean pointed to Roman. 

"You know what? You lost all right? You got knocked down. You're a grown man, pick yourself up, move on." Seth said to Roman. "You know who's moving on? Bray Wyatt thinks he's moving on." 

"No, he's not," Roman said. 

"He thinks we're ashes in the way, on his path to John Cena. In case you don't remember, we were left for dead at the Elimination Chamber. Well, let's show Bray Wyatt, that it's not that easy to get rid of The Shield. Let's show Bray Wyatt that we're not, three lone wolves, that we are the hounds of justice and we run together always. Let's show Bray Wyatt that when you provoke the hounds, you get the teeth!" 

"Strap up boys!" Roman yelled as Dean started laughing. "It's time to hunt some Wyatts." 

"Well, not just the Wyatts..." Morgan reminded as the crowd cheered. She walked over to them as they turned around.

"Where were you?" Seth asked.

"I had a fight. I kind of caused the whole divas locker room to fight." She confessed. 

"I'm not surprised." Roman chuckled. 

"Don't judge me. It was all Rosa's fault. Speaking of Rosa...she's on top of Morgan's hit list, and I know she's on The Shield's hit list too. So...I have a plan. I got a match with her tonight and I think it's time to serve some justice." 

------

In the ring, before Morgan and Rosa can have their match, The Wyatts arrive after the lights go out. When the lights come back on, they appear in the ring while Morgan slides out of the ring, wisely.

"Common Morgan! Are you scared?" Rosa taunted. 

"No, I'm just not alone," The Outspoken Diva replied.

'Sierra'

'Hotel' 

'India' 

'Echo' 

'Lima' 

'Delta' 

'Shield' 

"Oh no! Here we go!" Cole exclaimed as The Shield walked through the crowd and jumped over the barricade. 

"Haha, I love it." JBL grinned as The Shield and Morgan get on the apron. 

They have a stare off with Rosa and The Wyatts but then Triple H's theme comes on as The Shield get annoyed. 

Triple H walked out on the stage. "Enough. This is not gonna happen now. I have too much time and money invested in all eight of you, to let this war happen again, right here right now. At least not without some promotion. This war...can take place this Monday. The Wyatt Family and Rosa versus The Shield and Morgan. But until that time...Shield...stand down." He ordered as the crowd booed. 

"And ladies, you've already caused enough damage for the night. You ruined the makeup area, and the whole diva's locker room got involved. It's not funny Morgan!" Triple H snapped as Morgan smirked in amusement. "This is serious... Shield...stand down. Now." 

Once he went backstage, Bray chuckled as The Wyatts and Rosa got out of the ring. Bray was on the apron. "Come on, you heard your daddy." 

The Shield and Morgan get in the ring as the crowd gets hyped while they stand before Bray. Morgan glances at Dean and Seth. Seth nods at them and the three of them run through the ropes. Seth hits Erick, Dean hits Luke and Morgan hits Rosa with a suicide dive. Seth and Dean slide back in the ring and stand before Bray with Roman while Morgan gets on the apron, behind Bray. 

"What now!?" Seth yelled. "Come on! Let's do this thing!" 

Bray backs up but gets grabbed in the Morganizer position after she gets in the ring.

"Uh oh!" Cole exclaimed but Bray quickly escaped it as the crowd booed. 

"This close..." Morgan said as Bray smirked and did his signature pose while the Wyatt Family theme came on. 

[fischerfrey]

A Christmas Prince; The Royal Wedding

Chapter 3: The Princess and the Ogre

Summary: Royal protocol threatens to dictate everything about Dawn and Quincey's wedding. Olympia's charity play faces obstacles.

Words: 3k

Characters:

Dawn Harvelle and Evander Alderly @potionboy3

Quincey and Olympia Alderly, Tess Brandon

Gaia Alden by @cursed-herbalist

Also featuring:

Pandora Lovelace & Nymeria Lee by @gcldensnitch, Jimmy Crouch, Maxim Raeburn, Rosa Yaxley & Evan Harvelle by @potionboy3, Rocky Weasley by @magicallymalted

Beginning | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Want to read the first fic in the series, A Christmas Prince? Click here!

Chapter 3: The Princess and the Ogre

“Your Majesties, Your Highness,” said Evander. He had a distinct look of dishevelment about him that Dawn had not expected to see.

Quincey’s personal security guard had already stepped in, ready to escort Evander out of the premises.

“It’s alright, Mr. Flitwick,” said Quincey. “He appears to be in no shape to do us any further harm.”

“Queen Isabella,” said Evander. “Merry Christmas.”

“What is it you want, Evander?” asked the queen.

“I know I deserve to be met with such hostility,” Evander continued. Dawn’s dad and Tess had made their way next to Dawn, as if to serve as his personal guard. Dawn thought it was kind of cute. Tess whispered: “Is this the bloke who…”

“Who tried to steal Quincey’s crown? Yes,” Dawn whispered back.

“Frankly, I’m amazed to see your face here, cousin,” said Quincey.

“After the… unfortunate incident last Christmas, I lost almost everything I had,” Evander explained.

“Just desserts!” Olympia chimed in.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” said Evander. “But I wanted to say I'm sorry, and Merry Christmas…”

The entire family was looking at Evander in something of a shock. This was the last thing Dawn had expected and he was willing to bet it had not crossed the minds of anyone else in the room, either.

“And congratulations,” finished Evander, looking at Dawn and Quincey now with an expression that could almost be described as genuine. “To you both.”

He turned to leave, and Quincey stepped forward. “Wait.”

Evander stopped in his tracks, turning back to face the king. Quincey sighed and said: “I don't know how you'll ever regain our trust. But we're still family. And it's Christmas.”

Olympia looked like she was about to punch some sense into her brother. Dawn exchanged looks with his dad and aunt.

“He may stay,” Quincey told the head of security and Evander looked seemingly relieved.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Olympia might actually murder you.”

Evander looked at Olympia who scowled. It seemed forgiveness didn’t come to her as easily as her brother, though Dawn wasn’t sure where all this goodwill on Quincey’s part was coming from.

~

Queen Isabella exchanged a few words with his wayward nephew, who then hovered awkwardly near the tree but didn’t touch any of the decorations. A passing waiter gave him a mug of steaming hot glühwein. Dawn decided to go over and see what he was really up to.

“Count Evander,” he said as he approached.

“Mr. Harvelle,” he replied. “Or Your Highness, soon enough.”

“What brought you to us on this… fine December evening?” Dawn asked.

“I knew you would all be together, and I thought: what better time to make my apologies?”

“I guess,” said Dawn, squinting his eyes.

“I know you don’t like me or trust me, but I’m not here to cause any trouble,” said Evander. “I’m just trying to make things right between me and my family.”

“It’s my family too, now, so if you try any shit–,” started Dawn but Evander stopped him on his tracks: “I won’t. I don’t want to go against you and my dear cousins ever again. The first round was quite humiliating enough.”

Dawn was a little pleased to hear it but hoped it wasn’t too obvious. “Quincey’s right, Olympia might actually kill you.”

“Yes, I imagine obtaining her forgiveness might be a little too optimistic.”

~

As the evening went on and the tree began to look sufficiently decorated, Evander had gained enough ground to sit on one of the couches and talk about his past year. He and his mother Amelia had a falling out and that had resulted in her cutting off all the money. It must have been a blow, but Dawn found it hard to sympathize with a count when it came to these things.

“So, what did you do?” asked Tess.

“Well, I moved to a more… modest housing arrangement,” Evander explained. “Oh, and I sold my car, that one was… difficult.”

Dawn rolled his eyes, but Tess chuckled and said: “It must have been.”

Evan sat next to Dawn and said under his breath: “Should we be worried about that one?”

“I’m always worried about Evander,” Dawn replied.

“Maybe I should kick his ass?”

Dawn laughed quietly. “Oh my god, dad.”

“I would probably lose.”

“No, you’d totally win.”

“Win what?” asked Quincey, walking up to them.

“Fist fight against Evie,” Dawn explained.

Quincey seemed to think about it for a while and then said: “You would definitely win.”

Evan grinned and Dawn smiled but then his expression turned more serious, and he asked: “Why did you let him stay?”

Quincey shrugged. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

~

Everything went mostly without an incident although Olympia did throw a glass bauble at Evander when he dared to laugh at Tess's joke too merrily in her presence. Dawn thought it was funny, but the queen informed them all that the bauble had been a gift from the American ambassador and now he would wonder why it doesn’t feature in any of the royal photographs.

Back in his bridal suite™️, Dawn exchanged a few messages with his friends back home. Well, back in Bristol since this was home now. It was late, too late, with Dawn’s early morning looming threateningly in the horizon.

the bristol squad; panda: wait cunt evander is back?? panda: NO panda: COUNT panda: autofill1!!! maxim: oh my god rocky: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 dawn: where’s the lie panda: it was a typo nym: no it wasn’t jimmy: it was a freudian slip

Just when Dawn was putting his phone away, he heard a knock on his door. He crept out of bed, wondering whether it was Evander, come to assassinate him. Suddenly it made perfect sense why he had come back, acting all humble and apologetic. He certainly had some devious plan to kill Dawn and get the throne. Just in case, Dawn picked up a decorative candelabra on his way to the door. When he opened and was instead faced with Quincey, dressed in his pajamas and a fancy dressing gown, he hid the makeshift weapon behind his back and smiled.

“Quince!”

“What were you going to do with that?” the king asked, half puzzled half amused.

“Defend myself, of course, your palace security is lax, I know that from experience.”

“Dear lord…” said Quincey and grabbed Dawn’s face, kissing him. Dawn pulled him into the room and maneuvered the door shut. Quincey took the candelabra from him and deposited it on a nearby side table.

“Jesus, you could have killed someone with that,” he said.

“That was the idea, although I was expecting it to be Evander.”

“Why would Evander come to your rooms at this hour?” Quincey inquired. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“To kill me, of course.”

Quincey laughed. “Of course.”

“Are you allowed to be here?” asked Dawn.

“Well, no, technically not.”

“Ooh, naughty,” Dawn teased.

“But I wanted to see you,” said Quincey with a soft smile.

Dawn, not immune to Quincey’s smile, kissed him and pulled him to bed.

~

The next morning, Dawn was dressed to the nines in the custom made Alderlian wedding outfit insisted upon by the queen. He felt like a complete fraud.

“It’s magnificent,” said Pince.

Rosa was frowning but remained silent.

“I can’t wear this,” said Dawn. He couldn’t even name all the different items of clothing involved.

“You must,” said Rosa. “It’s a symbol of Alderlian continuity.”

“No, it isn’t,” argued Dawn. “I want to talk to Quincey.”

“The king is busy, at the moment,” said Pince. “But I’ll make sure to note down that you want a word with him.”

“He’s going to be my husband and I need to schedule a meeting with him?” Dawn asked. He tried his best to remain calm, but this was all getting ridiculous. He wondered what Quincey was going to wear for the ceremony.

“Help me get this thing off, I need a break,” said Dawn and Rosa rushed to help him remove the outfit. None of it felt right.

~

The kitchens were empty, since it was some time until lunch, but breakfast had long since been served. Tess set a big, steaming cup of tea in front of Dawn and sat opposite to him.

“You’re my hero,” Dawn said.

Tess gave him a smile. “This is all a bit…”

“Much,” finished Dawn and Tess nodded, sagely.

“Have you settled in?” Dawn asked.

“It’s definitely been interesting to spend so much time with Evan, of all people.”

“Are you getting along?”

“Sure, I always liked him,” said Tess.

“That’s a relief,” said Dawn. “I didn’t realize they wouldn’t let me drag you two everywhere with me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tess reassured him. “I’m just a little worried about you, though.”

Dawn sipped his tea carefully, as to not burn his tongue. “I feel like it's not my wedding. All this pomp and circumstance. It's like, at this point, I'm almost dreading the big day.”

“Marrying into royalty, of course there’s always going be parts of your life that won’t be just your own, but I think there’s a reason why the king fell in love with you, and it wasn’t your complete adherence to rules and protocol,” said Tess.

“Honestly, Tess, I didn’t think I would ever get married, much less married like… well all this,” Dawn said, motioning around vaguely to everything around him. “But shouldn’t it be about… royalty or not, about being with the person I love, with... with all the people that I love there with me?”

“When did you get so wise?” asked Tess.

“I was always wise, you just refused to see it because you were bitter that I put glue in your hair,” said Dawn.

“That’s very true.”

Dawn took a deep breath. “Christmas without mum is always going to be hard. But getting married without her being there��”

“I know,” said Tess. “I always think about her when something big happens in my life. Like when I graduated or when I launched a new tea line.”

“I guess we're both feeling that, huh?”

“I miss her every day,” Tess said.

“Me too.”

“Which reminds me,” said Tess and dug something out of her pocket. “I was supposed to give this to you as part of your wedding gift, but I figured you might need something to watch your back before the big day.”

Tess took Dawn’s hand and put a necklace on his palm. It was clear quartz with a fine leather cord. Dawn remembered seeing it on Tess many times. Dawn’s mum had given it to Tess as a present when she started high school, to bring her luck, and Tess had worn it throughout the years, up until university and beyond.

“I can’t take this,” he said, immediately.

“Yes, you can,” said Tess, and closed Dawn’s fist around the necklace.

“It’s yours.”

“You need it more than me,” said Tess. “I don’t have any big, life altering events in my horizon.”

“Tess…”

“Your mum would want you to have it. I know she would.”

Dawn sighed.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Then…” Dawn started. “Thank you.”

He pulled the necklace over his head and maybe it was in his head, but it did bring him comfort. It made him feel like everything was going to be alright.

“She’d be proud of you, you know,” said Tess.

“Would she?”

“Yes. So proud.”’

~

On the car ride to Olympia’s dress rehearsal, Dawn got a rundown of The Tale of Princess Froon.

“It’s a folktale,” Olympia explained to Dawn, Evan, and Tess, but mostly Evan. “The original is much more brutal than the version told to children. Kind of like Grimm’s fairytales. A fair maiden who granted Santa Claus his magical powers, sounds wholesome, no?”

“Very,” said Evan.

“Princess Froon was coveted for her ability to grant magical powers. One day she was captured by a big, hairy ogre named Grundel…”

“Like Shrek!” said Dawn.

“No, nothing like Shrek. Grundel traps Princess Froon inside a castle made of ice…”

“Like Frozen?” Dawn tried again.

“Not at all like Frozen, Dawn, shut up. Grundel was going to eat her for breakfast, when his pet turtle…”

“Turtle?” asked Dawn. He couldn’t resist.

“Yes. His turtle found a little baby in the woods. And when he brings the baby to the castle, she cares for it and nurses it back to health. Her kindness melts the ogre's heart, and he falls in love with her.”

“The end?” asked Dawn and Olympia threw a piece of confectionery at him.

“No,” she continued. “The ogre sets the princess free, so then she turns the baby into Santa Claus. And she kisses the ogre to say goodbye and thank you, and he turns into a dashing knight in shining armor. The end.”

“And it's all true?” asked Evan.

“Obviously.”

“Fair enough,” Dawn said.

“Honestly, it’s not any less mad than strange women lying in ponds distributing swords as a basis for a system of government…,” mused Evan.

“Who's playing the ogre slash knight in shining armor?” asked Dawn.

“Just the reason for my mother’s ire,” said Olympia. “Her name’s Gaia Alden, the daughter of baron Alden.”

“Oh,” said Dawn. Suddenly it made much more sense why Isabella was so against her daughter taking part in this play.

~

The thing about Olympia’s play was that it was completely put together by amateurs on as low a budget as possible. The entire idea was to collect money for the orphanages of Alderly so the children could have a nice Christmas, complete with a heap of presents. The participation of so many members of the nobility itself had garnered quite a high society crowd. It was all in good fun, for a good cause. Olympia had told Dawn that they’d pretty much done everything themselves from sets to costumes.

“Why must you trap me here, Grundle?” Olympia spoke her line. Dawn was no actor, but he found the princess’s portrayal to be believable enough.

“Your fair beauty hurts my eyes,” said Gaia Alden, donned in the mask of the fearsome ogre. “But that is not why I trap you here. I trap you here because I want your magic!”

“You cannot force me to use it. I must believe in my heart!”

“Then I shall eat you. And your magic shall seep into my flesh and stones!”

There was a brief pause in the action and Dawn, from his front row seat, could see everyone racking their brains for how to handle this.

“I think it's ‘bones’,” Olympia whispered.

“That's what I said, isn't it?” asked Gaia. As an audience member, Dawn would have bought stones hook, line, and sinker. Maybe Grundel was a stone troll.

“Never mind. Let's move on to scene 12.”

“Right, yes,” Gaia said, clearing her throat. She motioned to her prompter and had a brief discussion with him. Just as the director was about to call action, everything went dark. For a minute, Dawn suspected a blackout but then his phone buzzed. It was Quincey calling.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Dawn,” Quincey said. “The unions are calling for a general strike. Are you still at the theater?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” said Dawn, keeping an eye on Olympia, who was frantically discussing with Gaia and some others of her theatrical troupe.

“The theater workers are also going on strike, in solidarity,” said Quincey. “I’m afraid the performance is cancelled.”

“What? Does O know?”

“I have to go,” said Quincey. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Quincey hung up and Dawn was left staring at his phone, flabbergasted.

“O!” he called out, climbing up on the stage. “What’s going on?”

“I wish I knew,” said Olympia.

“It looks like the play is cancelled, Your Highness,” said Gaia, going through her phone, probably looking at news.

“Maybe they’ll get everything figured out before–,” Dawn started.

“The premiere’s tomorrow,” said Olympia. Dawn decided not to question why he hadn’t been made aware of this, same as many other things going on in Alderly.

“I’m sorry, Olympia,” said Gaia. “You made a brilliant Princess Froon.”

“Fuck,” said Olympia.

“C’mon, O,” said Dawn. “It’s going to be alright.”

“People are going to want their tickets refunded,” Olympia said. “But we used most of the money already. On the kids.”

Dawn put a hand on Olympia’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Come on, we have to go before your security detail thinks Miss Alden and I kidnapped you.”

“That would be bad,” said Gaia.

“Alright,” Olympia sighed, and they headed out of the theater hall.

~

“Merry Christmas, your highnesses,” said Gaia once they were outside. “For what it’s worth, I'm sorry we won’t be able to do the play. It was fun.”

Olympia smiled. “You made a brilliant ogre, Gaia,” she said.

“Thanks…?”

“And an even better knight in shining armor,” the princess added, taking both of Gaia’s hands in hers and leaning in to kiss her cheek. Something about the gesture made Dawn avert his eyes. Gaia left in her own car and Dawn and Olympia entered theirs.

“Fucking hell,” Olympia said.

“Can the crown pay the refunds?” asked Dawn.

“Not easily.”

“Well… shit.”

“Mother did tell me not to do this,” Olympia said, leaning her head back against the leather seat.

Dawn thought about all the hard work Olympia had put into making this play happen and an idea began to formulate in his mind. “Most of your crew is just your friends and peers, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“What if we did the play at the palace?” Dawn suggested.

“What?”

“What if we just cleared room and put up a stage for the play so then you wouldn’t have to refund?”

Olympia seemed to think about it for a moment. Eventually, she said: “It could work.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it might. Oh my god, I’m texting the idea to the guys right now,” she said and took out her phone, starting to type. Dawn grinned. Maybe the Christmas play could still be saved, but then there was still the country.

tag list: @lifeofkaze, @gcldensnitch, @endlessly-cursed, @cursed-herbalist, @magicallymalted

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[despair-to-future-arcs]

Listen to her Fuyuhiko, Mahiru!

But...I...

Look, Nagi is correct; this is Hatomi and Natsumi were talking about here - 2 people you both clearly care about!

Yukio...?

Look... I get it, I may not know either of them that well and honestly I think I have no right to say anything but the way the school has treated them both and even that whole NDA thing - they care more about talent then any of the students here and it's clear.

You both lost people important to you both and the way the school is acting is disgusting; I think we all need to work together and show what they are doing is not leading towards hope at all - it's lead to despair and you both are suffering for it!

And that teacher of ours... she isn't helping so please... what do you think Natsumi and Hatomi would think of all this?

What would Hatomi think...? Honestly, I think she would be frustrated and annoyed, she... always hated our teacher and has told me to just ignore her...

In fact, I should of listen to her; I should of realize what she has been doing and seeing all this? I don't like it either, in fact I think I got quite some choice words as well...

Can't believe I'm agreeing with you because honestly, I feel the same way...

I could imagine Natsumi wanting to get dad to send some men after her if she were alive and I would do the fucking same...

But I was some damn coward, not acting and just getting pissed with myself.

Well not fucking today, I ain't letting this god damn whore do whatever the fuck she wants! So yeah, count me in!

...

Actually, count me in as well.

Hm? Your agreeing here, I thought you be defending this school given how you view this place - what change with you?

Well I guess hearing all this and just realizing a few things I realize... this school, I... think I always thought that everything for Hope's Peak would lean to hope... it was always what I thought ever since I was a kid, I always wanted to be here...

But now... I can't view the school as this symbol of hope and thinking of all the pain and suffering here, I can't accept it... not anymore...

This school... Hope's Peak Academy, a beacon of Hope? Hmph, it has cause nothing but despair and cause harm and frankly I can't be at such a place so yeah, screw this damn place!

Well seems you finally see how rotten this school is, I think we can all agree that were on the same page, right?

If anything, I think Miss Nanami has awoken us up and it's a good thing she did...

Now everyone, as Byakuya Togami; I think we should leave this place and work on our own futures! Become better then what this school had in mind, who's with me?!

I'm following Ham hands! He's right, this school stinks and waaaay overhyped!

I... really did behave myself, I thought I was following the correct but...

But seeing all this and thanks to Nagi for pulling the wool from our eyes, I think we need to start a revolution!

Geez... we really are doing this, aren't we?

Well count me in, honestly this school sucks and I can't accept it anymore!

Ev-Everyone... you really do agree?

I'm happy to hear that you all realize the situation and agree, I know it's hard but I think we can do this...

Now how about we check to see how our 'lovely' teacher is doing...