#*YOU* were watching and waiting all so you could orchestrate this and make this happen

[23victoria]

slow motion

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut (wrap it before you tap it), cussing, fluff, i think that’s it

authors note: it’s been a min so i need to get something out to you guys!! hope it’s not bad and ignore any typos! ALSO SO PROUD OF OSCAR!!! HE DESERVED THATS WIN!! LOVE HIM SM!! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

wanna be tagged in my works?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

“What the fuck, why would they do that?!”

The frustration coursed through you as McLaren’s decision to box Lando first flashed across the screen. Oscar was leading the race, on the brink of his first victory, and yet they chose to pit Lando first. It didn’t make any sense. Every nerve in your body was on edge as you watched the race unfold. The radio messages about switching positions were maddening. It felt like McLaren was orchestrating the race rather than letting it happen naturally.

Finally, when the order came for Lando to let Oscar through, you felt a mixture of relief and lingering irritation. This was Oscar’s moment, his hard-fought victory, but the team’s strategy had cast a shadow over it, making it seem as if it was a gift rather than something he had earned.

When it was time for the podium celebration, your heart swelled with pride. Watching Oscar spray the champagne, his face illuminated with joy, was everything you had dreamed of. The crowd’s cheers echoed in your ears, and you could hardly contain your excitement. He had done it. He had won his first F1 race, and you were bursting with happiness for him.

After the celebrations, you and Oscar are on the way to the hotel. "McLaren needs to get their stuff together," you told him, shaking your head. "They almost ruined it with their strategy. But you, babe, you were amazing out there. You earned that victory."

Oscar smiled, a tired but satisfied look on his face. "Thank you. I can't wait to go home and sleep."

You shook your head playfully. "Oh no, we have dinner tonight. We're celebrating, sorry not sorry."

He groaned, half-jokingly. "Can't we just stay in?"

"Absolutely not," you insisted, laughing. "We're going to have a nice dinner, drink, dance, and celebrate your victory properly."

The dinner party was a nice turnout. Friends and fellow racers gathered around, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and congratulations. You and Oscar mingled, shared drinks, and danced, reveling in the celebratory mood. Laughter and cheers filled the air, making the night unforgettable.

On the way to the hotel in the car, you couldn’t keep your hands off Oscar. The excitment from the victory was still coursing through both of you, and your desire for him was at an all-time high. You leaned in, kissing his neck softly at first, then more urgently, as your hands roamed over his chest. He tilted his head back, giving you better access as you whispered dirty words into his ear, your breath hot against his skin.

"You're so amazing, Oscar," you murmured, your voice low and seductive. "I can't wait to get you back to the hotel."

He groaned softly, his eyes darkening with desire. "You're driving me crazy, Y/N."

"Sit on the bed," you instructed him, a mischievous glint in your eye.

As soon as you reached the hotel room, you pushed him inside, locking the door behind you. "Sit on the bed," you instructed, your voice commanding yet playful.

Oscar obeyed, his gaze never leaving yours. You slowly began to undress, swaying your hips seductively as you removed each piece of clothing. His eyes followed every movement, his breath hitching as you revealed more of your skin.

Clad only in your lingerie, you straddled his lap, feeling his arousal pressing against you. You ground your hips against him, eliciting a deep moan from his lips. Your hands roamed over his chest, teasing and caressing as you kissed him deeply, your tongue exploring his mouth.

He reached out to touch you, but you pushed his hands away playfully. "Not yet," you teased, moving his hands to his sides as you continued to dance for him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath you, adding to the heat between you.

Finally, you couldn't take it any longer. You pushed him onto the bed and climbed over him, your hands deftly unzipping his pants. You kissed his neck, nibbling on his skin as your hands roamed his body, teasing and tantalizing.

You pushed him back onto the bed, crawling over him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Your fingers deftly unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. You kissed down his chest, trailing your lips lower and lower until you reached his hard length. You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him deeper, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't reach.

Oscar's hands tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as he groaned with pleasure. "Fuck baby, that feels so good," he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

You slowly sucked his cock, taking your time to pleasure him until he was teetering on the edge. Then, you pulled back kissing his tip, climbing back up to straddle his hips. You guided him inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation. You moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely. Then, you began to ride him harder, your movements becoming more urgent as the pleasure built between you.

Oscar's hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he helped guide your movements. You rode him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him filling you completely. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your moans mingling with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You leaned down to kiss him, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. Your tongues danced together, the kiss deepening as your bodies moved in perfect harmony. You felt his muscles tense beneath you, his breath hot against your mouth as he groaned with pleasure.

"God, you feel so good," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed up your back, pulling you closer as you continued to move together.

You began to ride him harder, your hips moving with increasing urgency. The friction between your bodies was intoxicating, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Oscar's hands moved to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, Oscar suddenly flipped you onto your back, taking control. He thrust into you with a new intensity, his movements faster and harder than before. The change in angle sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you cry out his name.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as he drove into you. "You're mine," he growled against your mouth, his voice raw with passion. "Every inch of you."

"Yes, Osc," you gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "I'm yours. Always."

His pace quickened, his hips slamming into yours with a relentless rhythm. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the wet, rhythmic slap of skin against skin. His name fell from your lips in a litany of pleasure as he brought you closer and closer to the brink.

"Come for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice a low, sexy growl in your ear.

His words sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, a powerful orgasm ripping through you. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him. Oscar followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard. He buried his face in your neck, groaning your name as he filled you with his warmth.

You lay there together, your bodies entwined, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from the high. Oscar gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice tender.

"I love you too, baby," you replied, pulling him into a soft, lingering kiss.

✿ .° • everything taglist • °. ✿ : @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @Ronpho @minekarina @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens

✿ .° • oscar taglist • °. ✿ : @tellybearryyyy @exotic-iris13 @magixpracticality @eoduuung @eternoangel l @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @flowerpetalk @oledoledoffen

© 23victoria 2023-24 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own

[itsthestutterforme]

Convince Me Otherwise (Jack Reacher x reader)

Summary: You are the youngest cadet in the Special Investigators. So no one really took you seriously. No one except Reacher and Neagley.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes as my own, dark themes (mentions of murder, death by suffocation)

Prompt credit @creation tivepromptsforwriting : “I’m not the right person for you.”“You’re doing a great job at convincing me of that.”

Requested by: @screechingdreamercollectorsblog SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG

**

“Wow, you’re really reaching for that promotion, aren’t you, kid?” O’Donnel taunts, purposely closing your laptop so you couldn’t ignore him anymore.

“No, I’m not.” You grumble, attempting to open the laptop but O’Donnel holds it closed.

“You never go out with us. You’re missing out on quality bonding time, you know.” He continues.

“Yeah, you’re missing David getting his ass bear in pool.” Neagley prods, lifting David’s hand from your laptop.

“And get your grubby hands off her laptop. Rude.”

“Here we go. Let the nerds unite.” David starts.

“These nerds can run circles around you, pretty boy.” Neagley taunts, sticking her leg out to trip him when he walked by.

“Awe, you think I’m pretty?”

You and Neagley made eye contact before rolling your eyes.

“That’s enough, O’Donnel. Let her work,” Reacher mediates when he walks into the room.

You smiled when Neagley threw you a wink before walking back to her desk. It was her subtle way of saying ‘awe, he’s defending you’.

She knows about your crush on Reacher for as long as the unit came together. You knew it was never going to happened en because of your age difference.

But there’s nothing wrong with a crush (tat would absolutely lead nowhere).

You had just turned 20 a couple months ago, and this year, you graduated from MIT at the top three in your class.

A part of you was pissed that you just barely missed being nominated as valedictorian for your class.

But that was just your perfectionism getting the best of you. You’re sure that your dad would have been proud that you are doing so well in your studies and graduated a whole year and a half early.

When your dad was enlisted, he would tell you about all the tips he’s made and beautiful sights he’s seen.

And before he died, he didn’t mention anything about the place he was stationed. He didn’t write a single letter talking about the climate, the trees, not even the animals.

Nothing.

And when you asked for pictures, he told you no and to drop it. That in itself peaked your interest but out of respect for him, you didn’t pry anymore.

The following week he was injured in combat and spent the night in the infirmary. You said you were going to see him.

You had the clearance for it anyway, but he begged you not to go. After a few minutes of arguing, he finally told you.

He was sent there to investigate a string of murdered. He found what he was looking for. The culprit.

And he was 99 percent sure that he wouldn’t make it through the night. They were watching him, waiting the catch him alone.

They orchestrated him getting hurt in the field just to get him alone in the infirmary.

You didn’t listen to him; you took the next flight to Iraq and he was gone before you could get to him. They gave you his uniform and folded flag on top of it.

You demanded a copy of his autopsy since they wouldn’t let you see his body. And they refused. You didn’t have any connections there so you had no choice but to accept what they said. For now.

Something wasn’t right with your father’s death. And you were going to figure out what happened. But as much as it hurt, you had to wait a while before you could start investigating.

Chances were you were being watched and you wouldn’t be much help finding your father’s murderer if you were dead.

When Reacher hand picked you to join his team, you told him about it. He was on board with you investigating, under one condition: get out if they ever pay you a visit. He didn’t want to see you dead.

He’s been to enough funerals for several life times. He sat on your desk and you gave him your undivided attention.

“Any luck?” He asks, his hazel green eyes trained on you as he waited for your response. Your cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze.

“No, sir. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you leaned back in your chair and linked your arms above your head. Just looking at your computer made your eye twitch.

“What have I told you about calling me sir?”

“I’m sorry, it’s out of habit.”

He remains silent for a moment, taking in your facial expression.

“I’m tapping you out for the day,”

“Reacher, no. I got this. Let me-“

“Tomorrow is another day, Y/N.”

You released a long breath when he stands from your desk, but he doesn’t quite leave your area yet.

“If I see you lift a finger to open the computer, I will take it for the night.” He states.

He made it all of one step before turning around and taking your computer into his hands.

“Hey!”

“It’s was too tempting for you not to open it anyway. Go home, Y/N.” He calls over his shoulder and he leaves you alone in the empty room.

Everyone left at least an hour ago, so it was just you. And without your computer, you were practically useless.

You stood from your chair with an emphasized groan and listened to what Reacher told you.

**

Dixon’s chuckles echoes throughout the office as she flirted with Reacher. Your heart clenches in your chest because you knew that Reacher always flirted back.

You and Neagley met eyes over your computer screens and rolled your eyes at the same time. You both had other things to be worrying about. Like our actual jobs and what exactly was Dixon doing?

Playing Regina George with Reacher. That’s what she was doing.

You clicked on the next file in the your folder that Reacher gained access for you. All he had to do was pay the man a visit.

He was giving you a hard time; withholding the files that your father gave him and told him to guard with his life.

Your father had told him to keep it away from seeing daylight ever again, but most importantly, to keep it away from you. He didn’t bank on you having a Jack Reacher as a part of your chain of command.

The file loaded and launched the media player on your computer. It was CCTV for the hallway camera perpendicular to the infirmary.

There was a man dressed in Class D uniform that walked over to your father’s bed rest, taking a pillow from a bed that he passed along the way.

Your eyes widened as you quickly realized that was about to happen.

Your father’s legs were kicking as the man covered his face with the pillow, aggressive suffocating him.

You clicked out of the file and slammed your computer closed, standing from your desk.

Reacher looked away from Dixon to you, much against Dixon’s choice. You walked over to Reacher’s desk and he stood when you approached, immediately noticing the difference in your energy.

“I need to talk to you,”

“He’s a little busy right now,” Dixon starts.

“I’ll come find you, Dixon.” Reacher interrupts, letting you lead the way to the conference room:

“I’m not sure it’s wise to speak freely here,” you said, your voice shook with every word. Hearing you like that made Reacher suddenly feel the impulse to protect you.

“Did someone visit you?” He asked and you shook your head no.

“Did you crack it?”

You hesitated a moment before nodding.

“You want me to take care of them?”

“No, no. I can handle it.” You said desperately, wiping your tears before they could touch your cheek.

Much to both of your surprise, he wiped a stray tear away with the pad of his thumb. An act so simple that told you one thing: I’ll protect you.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he pleads.

“I was going to tell you the same thing,” you said, sighing when he held the side of your face.

“This shouldn’t be happening. I’m not the right person for you,” Reacher says, not moving a muscle.

“You’re doing a great job at convincing me of that.”

[salethe2]

Okay, so instead of sleeping, I'm here writing this, but I just had to share my thoughts on episode 7 and the relationship between Armand and Louis.

I'll probably need to rewatch the episode a few more times to fully grasp everything and maybe make another post but wow—episode 7 was absolutely devastating.

Okay, so starting with Louis… Honestly, I can’t even be mad at Louis anymore. Initially, I was yelling at my screen, wondering if he was just blind. Armand’s manipulations have become so blatant, yet Louis doesn’t seem to notice. Watching this episode, seeing how Daniel doesn’t even get angry or judge Louis or get angry at Armand like he did last episode—it hit me. Louis probably knows deep down that Armand is behind everything, but he’s in denial. Because, as twisted as Armand is, Louis feels he’s all he’s got left. And I think Daniel starts to see this towards the end of the episode. Sure, he still states the facts, as a journalist does, and makes it obvious that he knows Armand is hiding things, but he doesn’t call Armand a liar like he did last episode, he just listens, and is calm because what else can he do?

Not only is there manipulation going on from Armand, but Louis also remembers and tells the story differently from how it happened as a coping mechanism. Because as much as I’d like to blame Armand on everything, the changes in Claudia’s turning, and his fight with Lestat were done by Louis, so he is very much lying to himself.

And what can Daniel do? What would Louis do if the last thread holding him was cut? Can Daniel do that to him? Does he have the right to do that? Would he cause him even more pain by doing that? Because as much as Louis is ignoring the obvious manipulation, as soon as it all comes to light, that bubble will burst and there will be no going back. At the same time, Daniel is not excusing Armand. I mean, the look he gives him in this scene is so telling. His voice is soft and almost surprised. "Wow, you saved Louis. How nice of you." But the way he looks at him, it's as if he's saying, "I know this is all a lie and you're the one behind all this, but I'll play along for now." I mean he could have easily just asked Louis if all of this doesn’t seem weird to him, driven that point forward more like at the beginning of the episode or last episode, but he just says “but not her” and that small sentence nearly broke the bubble of ignorance around Louis but oddly enough Daniel stops there, does not push a bit more. (I guess we’ll wait and see if this remains the same next episode).

As for Armand…I mean, I love him, and I think he’s a is brilliantly written character because he didn’t just isolate Louis; he stripped away everything in his life, turned his heart further against Lestat, and crafted scenarios where, even if Louis confronts the truth about his manipulations, he’s still trapped. Because what can Louis do? Abandon the only semblance of connection he has left? Lestat remarked in this episode that anything is preferable to loneliness for a vampire. Consequently, Louis would rather turn a blind eye than sever the last tie he holds. Even when Louis considered ending it all—something he already tried before—Armand wouldn’t permit it. Louis can’t even challenge Armand, given the disparity in their power. So, what else can he do!!

As for wether or not Armand is a villain, I can’t really say without watching the last episode, but I will say that know it’s easy to label him as merely evil and manipulative—traits he undoubtedly possesses—but I beg to differ on the notion that he feels no remorse. Yes, he’s orchestrated some truly horrible acts, even gave himself a front-row seat to watch it all go down, but to say he harbors no regret? I don’t believe that’s entirely accurate. I think, in his own warped way, a part of him believes he’s helping Louis, possibly as a coping mechanism for his own guilt.

As for what he did to Madeleine and Claudia, it was downright horrible and he 100% meticulously planned it all, still, I suspect a sliver of guilt does linger within him—not specifically for what he did to them, but for the essence of his actions and the hatred towards the loneliness that’s shaped him.

I mean, we have to remember that this is a man who endured unimaginable horrors even before he was turned, and has lived in solitude for 500 years! Lestat, at 150 years old, moved a man to tears by sharing his loneliness. Can you imagine the depth of pain, loneliness, self-loathing, sadness, anger, and a myriad of other emotions this man has borne for half a millennium?

This isn’t to say that Armand’s actions are justified—far from it. But it does highlight the devastating impact of loneliness on vampires and how it can profoundly twist their minds. For 500 years Armand has been alone and the only light he saw through that darkness was to take this half broken man, take everything he had and make him as broken as him to make sure he would always be his. Again, this does not justify his actions, but merely explains them.

All of this being said, the presence of guilt, albeit slight, likely twists inside him. Armand might reinterpret this feeling as ‘helping’ Louis, keeping him blissfully unaware of the harsh truths as a way to alleviate his own conscience. Kind of like, “I know I did this horrible thing, but there was no way around it, and I hate myself for it—for being this way. But I have to keep this man by my side for his own good and my own, by any means necessary.”

Also, just adding this, can we take a moment to discuss the lighting in this shot? Notice how Armand's face is partially shadowed when facing Louis, yet the side that's illuminated is turned towards Daniel. Honestly loved the lighting in this entire episode.

Anyway, this is precisely why I believe Louis DID asked Armand to erase those memories in San Francisco

And why he remove the torn pages from Claudia’s journals. Because he prefers a life of blissful ignorance over the agony of truth.

Of course Armand willingly, and easily went along with all of this because it keeps Louis by his side, so it plays nicely into his manipulations. Still, I do believe that Louis did in fact ask him to erase those memories. Does his consent to all of this make it any better? If anything, it makes it worse. This is a man so ensnared and without any escape that he’d rather erase painful memories—those that remind him of the grim reality of his situation—than live with them. And Armand’s mind is so twisted that he probably convinces himself it’s all right. In his mind, as long as he has consent, he isn’t doing anything wrong.

Anyway, that’s all I have for now but honestly, Louis’s only real escape now is through Lestat. Otherwise, he needs to figure out how to outmaneuver the master manipulator himself—because I doubt Armand will let go without a fight.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello, I noticed you did a yandere merman story before. Can I ask for a similar idea, but it's slightly different. Can I request a Yandere Merman x Female Pirate Captain Reader?

Female Pirate Captain reader finds a map in a bottle with a location for buried treasure. However, it says it’s supposed to be deep underwater, being impossible to reach. However, she comes upon a merman, and makes a deal with him; Use his powers to create a bubble for her to go underwater, and they’ll split the treasure.

So, the Merman agrees, and creates a large air bubble for the Female Pirate Captain reader to breathe in and pushes it deep underwater. Soon, they arrive at the supposed location: An empty underwater cave. The Female Pirate Reader questions her guide, who reveals the truth. HE was the one who made the map and has been secretly a Yandere for her, following her ship for years now. This was all a ploy to capture his darling in a bubble and bring his darling underwater for him to keep.

Yandere Merman x Female Pirate Captain Reader

“Wait, what do you mean? That was you? Did you seriously orchestrate this whole journey just so you could trap me, here?”

“Yup!” 

The merman giggles swimming in circles around your bubble, a psychotic grin on his scaly face. You glare at him as you piece it all together, cursing yourself as you fully feel the weight of the situation. 

Just hours before you had convinced your right-hand man that killing this merman was not the right call. Hours before you convinced your crew that this would have been the big haul…the last mission for many of them. That letter spoke of a treasure beyond measure with a diamond clinking within the dry confines of the floating wine bottle. You sat down with your aging and war-torn crewmates and brought them on this journey with promises of hope for their families, for their debts. All for it to be some elaborate scheme to capture you. Just you. Leaving your crew captainless and without a smidge of treasure.

“This is because you’re…in love with me..right?”

“That is what I said.” 

You ignored the tone in his voice as you made your plea. 

“Can you…tell them what happened?” 

The mermaid raised an eyebrow tilting his head to the side as he watched you fidget. Fighting tears and the crack in your voice you went further.  

“Like..can you tell them that there isn’t any treasure and that I’m not coming back.” 

The merman brought a hand to his chin, tail lightly swishing around your bubble. His eyes were closed as he looked to be in deep thought before blinking one yellow eye open. 

“Haha nope.” 

Crestfallen you swallowed your tears as the merman swam in circles rolling with delighted laughter. You waited until he was done to try pleading with him again. 

“You don’t have to say I survived I just want them to go home! Don’t you want that too!? For them to leave…us to our devices?”

“Hahaha, I do!” You lightened up. “But no.” Your frown returned.

He giggled twirling playfully as he spoke, “If I go back up there they’ll shoot me down without you. Plus if they despise you they’ll never come back! And that works so much better!” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you glared harder. 

“So what?! Your plan is to keep me in this bubble until I starve to death!?”

The merman stopped taking note of your accusation, before putting his hands on his hips. 

“Do you think me so cruel, when I already told you I loved you?” He picked up a seashell harshly pulling out the creature living in it, before flinging it into your bubble. The shell rolls to touch your boot to which you sneer at the gooey residue of the poor animal, scooching away. 

“Don’t worry food can get in just fine. And eventually, when you’re ready we’re going to walk to an underwater cave, where we’ll live out the rest of our days.”

You let your mind wander turning away from the merman who was laughing to himself as he replayed the fantasy in his head. Smirking to yourself, you held a hand over your face as you made a decision. A decision to do what you do best as a pirate captain. 

“Well, merman you have me pegged…I guess I really don’t have a way to defy you.”

“That’s right! Might as well just accept your fate!”

“I mean maybe I should…but I have one more question if you would humor me.”

A look of interest appeared on his face as he swam closer, “I’m…listening.”

“Does the way things come in work on things coming out?”

Eyes dart to the right. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh?”

With no hesitation, you drew your sword aiming for the clear barrier. Stopping when the merman frantically waved his hands as he got as close as possible. 

“What are you doing?! That could kill you, by the pressure alone!” 

“I thought you said it would go out the same?”

The merman groaned, “Okay maybe not but are you really going to kill yourself just to spite me?!”

“Ha not without a price…” 

“...what do you want?”

“You’re going to go back up there, tell my crew what the deal is. You can stay out of range of the cannons and harpoons. Just tell them the truth. Can you do that?”

The merman pouted holding your gaze without blinking as if in hopes to deter you, only to fall short when you didn’t falter. Dragging his webbed hands across his face he groaned. 

“Fine. Wait here.”

You watched as he swam away pretending to sheath your sword. Pulling it out again when he was far out of sight. 

“Now the only decision left…is if I’m going to risk it.”

A captain always makes tough decisions ones that play with their life and others that prey on the enemy.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I know it’s too soon and it sounds like they have everything under control, but let’s say the worst happens and we suddenly have King William and Queen Catherine….

Yes, it would be sad yada yada, but how delicious to see the Harkles forced to bow/ curtsey to the new King and Queen in public. 

Markle would brave the humiliation to help her brand, but how humiliating for them to bow/ curtsey to their hated rivals. 

***

Seeing Meghan have to grovel to William and Kate would be better than a free dessert with Costco-sized portions.

The humiliation she felt at the Queen’s funeral is going to pale in comparison to the humiliation she will feel at the King’s funeral. And when you think about it, The Queen’s funeral was three times the humiliation Meghan was expecting:

1. She (and Harry) were already in the UK which meant she was on a kind of lockdown that kept her from orchestrating the usual PR shenanigans she has become accustomed to when the BRF has major ceremonial events like this. She not only had ‘the firm’ watching her, but Harry was also there with her, in the same house, and she couldn’t just send him away so she could scheme in private (as she did every other time Harry went back to London without her, and notably for Philip’s funeral).

2. This “lockdown” also meant that she couldn’t go anywhere. No traveling, no parties, no nothing because of tightened security protocols, which means she couldn’t escape any of the criticism being said about her and Harry and she also couldn’t escape any of the praise Kate was getting...whom everyone was now calling The Princess of Wales while she was just ‘Meghan.’

3. It was made very clear that she and Harry were not welcome around the family, neither the main “branch” of Charles and Waleses nor the extended family. Harry wasn’t invited on the plane with William, but Andrew was. Harry wasn’t invited to Birkhall with Charles the night The Queen died to discuss transition. Hardman’s book all but says no one talked to Harry that night at Balmoral over dinner. Harry didn’t do the “family” walkabout at Balmoral with the rest of the grandchildren. The Sussexes didn’t get their own “meet the public and view the tributes” walkabout like the rest of the titled family members (minus the Yorkies). Charles called them ‘Harry and Meghan’ (no titles) and wished them well overseas in his first speech after The Queen’s passing. Harry wasn’t part of the Accession Council. Members of the public visibly and audibly refused to give greetings to Meghan at the Windsor walkabout. Harry had his ER revoked from his military uniform the one time he did get to wear it. Meghan was rejected by Camilla, Kate, and Sophie at the funeral - look at the gulf between them after the service when they were curtsying the cortege. No one spoke to them after The Queen’s commital service when they were waiting to leave but the staff.

It’s going to be so, so much worse when Charles passes. Especially if they’re in California (like when Philip passed) and all these negotiations are happening over much longer distances with much more time zones.

(And I do think Harry has some regret over The Queen and Philip’s passing - he “wasn’t told” they were dying so he didn’t get to see them one last time, which which probably made the trauma from Diana’s passing fresh again, and that’s why we see Harry making urgent plans to see Charles. This isn’t a knock against Harry; I missed seeing my own grandfather before he passed, the only cousin/grandchild who did, and the woulda/coulda/shoulda is very real so I completely understand. I do, however, side-eye his claims that he wasn’t told, because the signs were very, very obvious in both situations.)

[3cosmicfrogs]

for the ask game: naybe an AU where LXC is not on the stairs at thaf JGY/NMJ confrontatiom but baxia Got Attached so she refuses to be like. Slammed down?? And nieyao js now awkwarsly staring at each other, because whay is happening

hmmmmm you propose an interesting scenario.... i guess this could fit into the More Sentient Baxia AU that Woob and i have fever-dreamed up? in that case, five headcanons of what would happen if baxia got Attached:

baxia does not want to kill the Searching-Wanting-Waiting-Watching Human. she likes him, he gives nice skritches. and he always surrounds himself with a delicious aura of almost-evil that she just itches to sink her teeth into and rip away from him... Plus, her master clearly likes him too, he just needs her to show him!

baxia has seen into her human's heart and decided that he needs to get laid, immediately. She will take the necessary steps to make this happen, because she is a Good Sabre! now that she's saved the Searching-Wanting-Waiting-Watching Human, she only needs to find a way to make her intentions clear to the Floating-Calming-Softly-Quietly Human... her best course of action is clearly to start hovering in his peripheral vision from what she is sure is her most seductive angle.

Misunderstandings! Misunderstandings everywhere! naturally, because they are grown adults, mingjue and meng yao cannot possibly have a conversation about this. they will continue to Agonise separately and entirely unproductively while Xichen looks on and sighs. All the while everyone is being terrorised by baxia. Eventually someone breaks (my bet is on xichen) and demands to know exactly what is going on?! and if you think the resulting argument anything is but a sarcastic word-duel you'd be wrong! again, because nieyao are mature, grown-ass adults about this who can totally handle their feelings.

"are you upset you couldn't follow through, da-ge?" "I swear this has never happened before! I usually perform just fine!" "that's alright, mingjue-xiong, maybe you were just stressed?" "yes, there's no reason to be embarassed, da-ge." "a-yao is right, i'm sure this sort of thing happens all the time...?" "well did it ever happen to either of you?!" "...no." "whatever! let's try again then, i'm sure i'll manage this time!" <- this conversation will be overheard by an outside character of your choosing (nhs perhaps?) to Maximum Comedic Effect.

When the Issues Are Being Resolved, mingjue is faced with the absolutely mortifying ordeal of explaining to his increasingly incredulous sworn brothers that yes, nie sabres do in fact sometimes talk to their masters, of course this is normal what are you talking about, and also his magical bloodthirsty weapon has decided that he really really needs a romantic relationship and picked xichen and meng yao. yes she's been tormenting him. they can try a relationship he supposes, just to satisfy the Magical Bloodthirsty Weapon of course, no feelings will arise surely, and if nothing comes of it she will back off. this is entirely unaided by huaisang, who keeps orchestrating bed shortages and feeding the three of them aphrodisiacs because he is convinced that his brother is suffering from erectile dysfunction.

I'm not very good at making coherent plots or headcanons as you can see, but i thrive in crack treated seriously, and so this is what this will be.

[haunted-xander]

There was no one who did not know about the Killing School Life; a killing game orchestrated by Junko Enoshima to make the former 78th class of Hope's Peak Academy kill each other. It's purpose was to broadcast the horrible murders to the world at large to further fill the people's hearts with despair. But now, the game was finally over. Thanks to the resiliance and hope shining from one Makoto Naegi, Junko had fallen by the rules of her own creation. Her execution marked the beginning of the end for this despair-infected world. Finally, hope could begin to grow inside the people's hearts, now that the one responsible for this tragedy is gone.

The six survivors of the killing school life have finally managed to open the door leading to the outside world. Now, the Future Foundation await them on the other side, ready to accept them into their ranks with open arms. The doors opened, and there they stood. Their faces all quickly shifted to surprised, clearly not expecting to have people waiting for them. Kyosuke was the first to approach the shocked 'students'.

"Greetings, survivors of the killing game. My name is Kyosuke Munakata, former Ultimate Student Council President, and currently the vice-leader of an organisation called the Future Foundation. We are here to assist you in recovering your lost memories and re-adjusting to the outside world. You have my sincerest apologies for being unable to save you from the hands of Junko Enoshima. Rest assured that we will do anything in our power to make up for our short-comings." He finished with a deep bow.

"The Future Foundation, is it? I question your competency if you couldn't even open a measly little door. And why, may I ask, is the vice-leader greeting us instead of the actual leader? Are they too ashamed to meet us personally?" The young man didn't mince his words, his displeasure at the organisation clear. "Togami-kun, that's a bit mean... They came all this way to help us, you could be a LITTLE more grateful."

"M-m-master is right! Y-you guys totally suck! C-c-couldn't you have done s-something at least!? God, t-talk about useless!" A dissheveled young woman yelled out, pointing her finger at Kyosuke accusingly. "Calm down, both of you. You can voice your displeasures all you want later. For now, let's go along with these 'Future Foundation' guys. It's in our best interest to make as many allies as possible right now." Her voice was steady. She was clearly used to dealing with these people. "I agree with Kyoko-chan! You all need calm down! They're here to help us, so don't be so rude!"

"Uuuh, but how can we be sure we can trust these guys? I mean, they just happen to be outside waiting for us? There's no way I'll trust that! How would they ever know we were about to leave?!" A much older looking man burst out, looking agitated and apprehensive at the prospect of complying with these strangers. "...Um, Hagakure-kun? You do remember that the killing game was broadcasted, right? They probably watched the broadcast and saw that we were heading out..."

"...Oh, right. I completely forgot about that."

"How in the world could you forget that...? YOU were the one to discover that fact to begin with!" They started to bicker between themselves and seemed to have forgotten all about the people around them. Chiaki decided to remind them. "...Hey hey, I'm happy to see you get along and all, but we should probably get going. There's no reason for us to just stand here all day, right? So, let's head back to base so you guys can all get some well-deserved rest... I think."

"Oh! Right, thank you. Sorry, looks like we've gotten into the habit of arguing amongst ourselves haha..." The soft-looking boy -Chiaki guessed this must be Makoto- looked sheepish at having gotten distracted. "All right, let's head off then! Honestly, I'm looking forward to seeing places that isn't the same old school all the time."

"I, personally, am looking forward to having our memories recovered. There are still mysteries regarding the situation that I am unable to solve. I'm hoping that regaining our lost memories will provide me with some more clues." The woman went to stand besides Makoto as she looked straight at Kyosuke. "Kyosuke Munakata, was it? You probably know this already, but I am Kyoko Kirigiri, the... I suppose it would be 'former' Ultimate Detective at his point. I am looking forward to working alongside you. And everyone else, of course." She crossed her arms and gave an acknowledging nod to the people.

"...Ah, and I'm Makoto Naegi! The, um, 'former' Ultimate Lucky Student. I hope we can get along, Munakata-kun!" Makoto gave an awkward salute and introduced himself. "My name is Aoi Asahina! I'm the, uh... 'former'? Ultimate Swimming pro!"

"Do I even need to introduce myself? You already know who I am, don't you?"

"Can't you just do it, Togami-kun?"

"...Fine. My name is Byakuya Togami. The 'former' Ultimate Affluent Progeny. There, happy now?"

"Yes, very!"

"I-I'm Toko Fukawa, the former Ultimate Writing Prodigy... N-not that YOU care..."

"And uh, I'm Yasuhiro Hagakure! The Ultimate Clairvoyant."

"It's 'former' Ultimate, Hagakure-kun..."

"What's the difference?"

I'm glad... They seem to be doing well. Chiaki smiled at their antics.

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 25

Masterlist

The weight of the silence presses in around us, heavy and expectant. It is as if the very air in Chris’ penthouse held its breath, waiting for one of us to shatter the stillness. I feel his fingers interlace with mine. His usually commanding aura is subdued, replaced by a look that tugs at the frayed edges of my heart—remorse etched into the fine lines of his face, vulnerability glimmering in his dark eyes. I look down at our hands and breathe slowly. 

A few minutes later, I lift my gaze from our intertwined fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, and meet his piercing stare. The usual sharpness that defines him, the suave executive, the confident leader, seems dulled, softened just for me. In this moment, he isn't Chan, the leader of the Crimson Syndicate; he is simply Chris, the man I’m in love with, stripped of pretense and power, asking for... what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

"Chris," I begin, my voice a tentative whisper, but the rest of my words snag on a thorn of uncertainty. How can I start to unravel the complicated tapestry of our situation with mere words? My throat feels tight, constricted by the gravity of what lay between us. I had seen sides of him I never thought I would, facets of his life that were as dangerous as they were alluring.

"Kay..." His own voice is barely audible, laced with a tension that mirrors my own.

I draw in a deep, shaky breath, taking in the familiar scent of his penthouse. It grounds me, reminds me of the countless times we'd shared laughter, deep conversations, and intimate moments in this space. "We should talk," I manage to say, stating the obvious. We’d never had this problem before. We’ve always been able to communicate effectively; our conversations raw and honest from the moment we met. Communicating with each other had been easy and at times, we didn’t even need to use words; we just knew what the other was thinking, feeling. We are too connected to let our thoughts go unsaid. We should be able to do this.

Chris nods, the motion almost imperceptible, his grip on my hands tightening ever so slightly, as if holding onto me could somehow keep us both from falling into an abyss of unspoken fears and unanswered questions.

The silence continues to stretch between us, a tangible entity with the weight of all the words we had yet to speak. I can feel the faint tremble of Chris’ hands that betrayed his calm facade. Then, with a resolve that seems to gather itself from the very air around us, he inhales deeply.

"Kay," he begins again, his voice a soft baritone that resonates with an earnestness I hadn't heard before. "I... I am so sorry." His eyes seek mine, a storm of dark brown that churns with regret. "For what happened at the warehouse—for my actions. I would never hurt you. I would kill myself before I let that happen"

His admission is like the first crack in a dam holding back a flood. His usual assuredness is gone, leaving behind a raw edge in his words that I can not ignore. The man before me is the orchestrator of calculated moves, a leader who wore authority as easily as the tailored suits that hugged his muscular body. But now, that same man is peeling back layers of armor to reveal a vulnerability that makes my heart lurch in my chest.

"Chris," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "You—"

"Please," he interrupts, a note of quiet desperation threading through his voice. "Just let me say this. I can't take back what you saw, but I need you to know that it's not all I am. I..." He falters, struggling with his next words. "I've done things worse than that, Kay. Things that would forever change how you see me—things I wish I could shield you from, that I tried to shield you from. But now I’m learning that I can’t."

I watch the way his jaw tightens, the subtle clenching of muscles along his neck. His gaze holds mine, and in those eyes, I glimpse the churning sea of conflict and contrition. This was Chris laid bare, stripped of everything.

"Chris, I—" The words jam in my throat as I grapple with the maelstrom of emotions his confession unleashes. I look away from him. A part of me recoils, instinct warning me of the danger and darkness that lay beneath his surface, that I had seen close up for myself. Yet another part—a reckless, daring part, a part overshadowed by our love—aches to bury myself in his embrace.

"Look at me, Kay," he implores, and I do. In that moment of eye contact, I see it—the genuine remorse, the unmistakable trace of a soul in torment. It’s as if I can see the shadows of his past flickering there, vying for dominance over the light I know exists within him.

Despite the turmoil, his words did resonate within me, awakening a deep-seated care that refuses to be extinguished by doubt. I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze, the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips as I lift my hand to his face.

"I see you. All of you." And as the words leave my lips, I realize they are true. I see the man who strikes fear in the people of their underworld, and yet here he is, seeking redemption in the quiet of his own living room.

I continue, my voice barely above a whisper and my thumb brushing over his smooth skin. "You scared me. Not just because of what happened, but because it showed me a side of you that you've kept hidden away…from me."

His eyes, those windows to a soul caught between two worlds, flicker with a complex mix of emotions—fear, hope, uncertainty, sorrow. They search mine, seeking absolution in their stormy depths.

I offer him a small smile that holds more bravery than I feel. "I forgive you, Chris. But forgiveness isn't a bandage for the wounds we can't see. You can't shield me from the shadows; not if we're going to have any chance at... whatever this is between us. I love you and I need to know you, all of you—the good, the bad, the terrifying."

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his eyes never leaving mine. In them, I see the beginning of something new—a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, we could navigate all of this. Together.

"Thank you," he murmurs, the relief in his voice palpable. "For seeing beyond the monster I sometimes have to be."

A monster, maybe, but also a man. A man who holds my hands with a gentleness that belies the strength in his touch. A man who is, in this fragile moment, asking for my forgiveness.

He grasps my hand on the side of his face and brings it to his lips. The warmth of his lips on my skin sends an unexpected jolt through me, as if his gratitude was something tangible, a current that seeks to bridge the chasm between us. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"I'll spend every minute proving to you that beneath it all, there's someone worthy of you," he whispers, his voice a low rumble that resonates with the kind of sincerity you can't fake.

I can hear the determination in his words. His raw vulnerability in this moment is disarming. I am taken in by the duality of him, Chris/Chan—a man who could orchestrate chaos with precision; yet here he is, humbled by my willingness to forgive.

"Actions, Chris," I murmur, daring to believe in the possibility of redemption. "They speak louder than any promise."

He nods, his eyes never wavering from mine, and in them, I see the flicker of a silent vow. We are teetering on the edge of something profound, a connection forged not just by attraction but by the shared acknowledgment of our flawed humanity.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, we lean toward each other, drawn by a force that goes beyond mere physical desire. When our lips finally meet, the kiss is a delicate dance of give and take. His mouth is gentle against mine, a tender exploration that holds a promise of more, of hope, of a future.

His hand cradles my face, a touch so soft it is like a whisper against my skin, while my fingers find their way into his hair, holding him to me.

The softness of our kiss gives way to an urgency, a deepening hunger that neither of us can deny. Chris' lips move with mine, reigniting the spark that had been present between us since the day we met. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer until there is no space left, and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart against my chest.

"I've missed you—missed this," he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low growl.

His hands roam over my back, tracing the curve of my spine with a tenderness that contrasts with the fierce need in his touch. My own fingers dance across his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense under my caress as if he is holding himself back, afraid of losing control.

"Chris," I whisper, my breath hitching as his hands slip under the hoodie, finding the warmth of my skin. "Don't hold back. Not now."

He doesn't need another invitation. With careful movements, he peels the fabric from my body, his eyes never leaving mine. I return the gesture, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, deliberately, each flick of my fingers revealing more of the man whose complex nature both intrigued and terrified me.

We move together, a fluid dance guided by desire, toward the sanctuary of his bedroom. He trails kisses down my neck, marking a path of possession and promise that make my knees jello. The sensation of his skin against mine is electric, the sharp jolts settling deep in my core.

Our clothes fall away piece by piece. There is a longing present that makes it feel like we’ve been apart for months, not two weeks. As our bare skin brushes each other’s, the whisper of contact speaks volumes, each touch a wordless conversation that we both understand.

"Kay, you're everything," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he looks at me, really looks at me—the woman who had somehow found a crack in his armor. And as we stand there, naked and exposed, I know that despite the shadows that cling to his past, to us, this is where I belong.

Not wanting to let another second pass before I feel all of him, I walk backwards to the bed, pulling him along as our lips fight with each other. I let myself tumble back when I feel the frame against my legs. As he crawls on top of me, I say breathlessly against his lips, “I need you inside me.”

His eyes are dark with desire as he settles himself between my legs and pushes his cock into me. My pussy immediately reacts as if it recognizes his dick, clenching hard around him and causing him to groan and his body to tremble. His dick recognizes me too.

His motion is slow at first, but soon enough, his pace quickens and we lose ourselves in each other’s bodies. It’s like we’re trying to make up for every moment we were apart, every breath and heartbeat we hadn’t shared in the past 2 weeks.

He wraps his arms around my body, holding tightly, like he’s afraid I might vanish before he can possess me entirely. I allow myself to be enveloped by him and also wrap my legs around his waist to force him further into me. The connection is so deep that I feel every twitch of his muscles, every beat of his heart, every breath inhaled and exhaled from his lungs. As our bodies move in sync, so too do our breaths and hearts. We are no longer two separate entities, but a single unit, each part essential to the other’s survival.

As his hips push forward again and again, our skin slaps lightly against each other, creating a melody that echoes through the room. His lips trail down my neck and across my collarbone. He nips at the tender flesh there while he thrusts into me faster and faster, harder each time. Each stroke drives home the urgency of our reunion, each movement echoing the desperation we both feel to be close once more. We are two souls finding our way back to each other after being torn apart.

He moves his lips to my ear. “Tell me you’re mine forever,” he whispers. He pulls back and his eyes lock onto mine. They are a swirling abyss of need and desire. He needs a confirmation. There’s also a silent plea for understanding.

“I’m yours Chris,” I whisper back. “Forever.”

He leans in for a searing kiss as his pace picks up furiously. I moan as he thrusts even deeper into me. A subtle hum starts to escape Chris’ lips as he buries himself entirely inside me with one final thrust. I cry out as the tip of his dick hits my inner wall just right, and an explosion of warmth spreads through me. Chris grunts and twitches as he comes as well, but his lips never leave mine. Our tongues intertwine as we refuse to separate, Chris continuing to pump his hips ever so slowly.

Eventually he slows to a stop and removes himself from between my legs and falls onto his back. He pulls me into his side. The fingers of one hand interlaces with mine, while his other hand roams my back, tracing constellations into my skin.

We lay entwined in the soft afterglow, a tangle of limbs and shared warmth. His chest rises and falls steadily under my cheek. The sensation of my body pressed against Chris’ and the depth of his gaze locked onto mine is intense. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed us.

“I’ve missed us,” he says softly, echoing my thoughts. He brings our joined hands up towards my face and uses his thumb to brush against my lower lip softly before he presses a kiss in that same spot.

"Promise me this is real," I say, my voice threaded with vulnerability.

"Every touch, every word, every promise." He seals it with another kiss, soft and sweet, a whisper of reassurance that speaks directly to my soul. We stay there, cocooned in the sanctuary of each other's arms, lost in each other’s eyes.

The rhythm of Chris’ heartbeat against my ear is steady, lulling me into a sense of security I hadn't known I craved. As the warmth of our entwined bodies seeps into my bones, tiredness from my ordeal earlier takes over me and I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of him.

But in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, another image flickers behind my eyelids—Changbin's stoic face. A twinge of guilt snakes through me, its sharp bite a stark contrast to the softness of Chris’ caresses.

"You okay?" Chris murmurs, his lips pressing against my forehead.

"It’s nothing," I say too quickly.

"You’re thinking about your time with Changbin?" His voice holds a note of concern, and he tilts my chin up so our eyes meet. "You don’t have to hide this from me."

I search his gaze, finding the deep pools of trust and tenderness that had drawn me to him in the first place. "I know, Chris. It's just...." I pause to think about what I want to say. “First off, I want you to know that I didn’t sleep with Changbin to punish you. I would never do that. It just sort of happened. I needed physical comfort in that moment and he was there. I’m sorry.”

He nods as he processes my rambling. “No apology necessary.”

“It is. I felt awful. I was so worried about how it would make you feel. And I’m still worried about hurting Binnie’s feelings.” I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

Chris kisses it away. “We don’t have to figure this out now. Just be here with me.”

"Okay," I whisper.

We hold each other tighter, our limbs a tangled vine of need and solace. As sleep begins to claim me, nestled securely in Chris’ arms, I allow myself one last thought of Changbin. Then I push it away, sealing it in the corners of my mind where daylight could not reach. For now, it is enough to feel the steady beat of Chris' heart against mine.

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Dead Friend Forever ep 1

I finally got sucked into watching. And since there's so much speculation around the characters and their actions/motives I thought I'd document my observations as I go. (small comments in brackets are things I've gone back to after the ep ended)

Who did the axe man hit for the guy on his own (Non, right?) to get splashed with blood, because the guy with him (Jin, right?) had already run off, unless it was his own blood from a wound lower down on this body... (So I'm guessing this is the original film that they made with Non years ago...no, wait, if Non was the 'killer' in the mask in the film then why is he running away from another masked person with Jin here? Is this also the film or is this their real experience. Oh ho hooo the mystery thickens...what's real and what's played out for the 'camera' [including for us]?...).

Also, I can't believed I'm watching this 🙈

I think the only way I'll get through the scary gore bits is to analyse their believability.

Ok, let's go! I like the opening credits music.

It's a good job it's difficult for me to figure out all their names because the things I've seen/read about the show so far mean nothing or very little.

The first believable thing! - no phone signal and no wifi in the middle of nowhere. I used to experience the same thing in the Swedish countryside.

Ok, I see those looks between Fluke and green-shirt-big-money guy...what secret do they have about what's on that external drive... And embroidered shirt guy doesn't know...or does he and he's a good liar?

EVERYONE IS JUST SO SUS.

So green shirt guy, Fluke, Jin, and embroidered shirt guy (Top!) were in this movie? And Non was the 'killer'. And Phee pretends he doesn't know who Non is even though I've seen that he and Non knew-knew each other... The two who don't know Non (for realsies?) is brown jacket guy (White?) and the guy sat opposite Jin.

Wow green shirt guy was quick to jump in to say he had a camera in the house to remake the film - that Phee suggested. SO SUS. Jin and tall guy (Tee!) did NOT like that.

"I don't want him [White] to get involved in what we have done" - What HAVE you done Tee? 👀

Also I love that all this is happening with White in a "Sexy Summer Time" t-shirt on 😂

An asthmatic who smokes 🤦🏽‍♀️ Yeah, he's definitely not going to find his inhaler when he needs it. (Is that Tan?).

Oh what if White isn't the innocent cherub he's made out to be? What if he's manipulating this to get revenge for Non? I've seen people say they want him to be the last girl standing (or whatever the phrase is) but what if he's orchestrating all this?

Whyyyyyy did green shirt guy (Por!) leave the house and go into the woods???

So, interestingly, Tee and Fluke instigated the search for Por, then Phee doled out instructions once they found him... Hmmmm...SUS

Por seems alive and conscious, why is no one asking how it happened? Also, even in his second year, Fluke should know to stay calm so as not to panic the patient more...

Who keeps jump cables in the house and not either in the car or in a garage/outbuilding, especially somewhere like that??!?

Again, they're in a house in the woods. Surely there would be a saw in some kind of garage/workshop? Why are they looking in a kitchen for a knife to cut a tree branch?? WHY IS THE SAW IN THE KITCHEN UNDER THE SINK?! 😂

It's incheresting that White concludes it's an attempted murder 👀 Thus sowing the seed in everyone else's mind...

BOYS, proving that there's a ninth person is NOT the priority here. Getting Por to a hospital is. 🤦🏽‍♀️

Also incheresting are the deleted scenes 👀 HOW COULD POR GO INTO THE WOODS ALONE ESPECIALLY AFTER HE COUNTED NINE PEOPLE?! Also, Tan was not part of the failed re-staging of the film...SUS.

Alright. I'm hooked on the mystery. I should make clear that I in NO WAY want any answers that will spoil the mystery for later in the series. Please and thank you! 🙏🏽 I'm just laying down some thoughts to come back to once more info gets revealed. Comments that don't spoil anything are absolutely welcome though! 😁

[under-the-aspen-tree]

A Moth To You (Chapter 12 - Set to Rights) Aegon II Targaryen x (Bastard Velaryon) Reader

Series Summary: After a year travelling abroad, you have been called home to Kingslanding by your mother, Rhaenyra. Turns out your family has grown in your time apart.

Word Count: 4.5K

From the moment you opened your eyes to the second you stepped into your chambers in Kingslanding, you were not left alone. It was quite endearing at first, to have Helaena needlessly waiting on you, or to wake each morning during your travels home to find Luke or Jace asleep in a chair beside your bed, but the pleasantries grew tiring quickly. You wanted time to process what had happened, to understand why, to grieve your dead friend, and that time was not granted to you. 

You knew as soon as you awoke that first morning, your hands burning and your head spinning, that nobody could know who Boras was to you. He had to remain a nameless face in a crowd, a simple musician, lest you face your mother's wrath for leaving the Keep so often in your youth. When Rhaenyra demanded an answer of you as to why you had been attacked, you told her only of what Boras had said in the moment and nothing more, claiming to have only spoken with him briefly during the songs to congratulate him. It was self protection, and you decided that the finer details would not have mattered anyway, or at least hoped.

Nothing you said could have stilled her nerves anyway.

In truth, you couldn't make any more sense of it than anyone else, regardless of your history with the boy. You spent every minute of your days only half listening to the world around you, too focused on your thoughts, to what Boras had meant. You knew your friend, or at least you thought you had, so why had he tried to kill you?

Your first musings were over wrath or fear, that Aegon descending upon him in Kingslanding had scared him into murder, but that made no sense. No good would have come to him for killing you, and he could have easily fled to never be seen again if he so wished, so what else?

He had seemed nervous, regretful even. He had asked why you couldn't have just worn 'it', that he wouldn't have had to hurt you if you had. Gods, it gave you a headache to try to understand what 'it' was, why he couldn't have just told you.

And then there was 'them'. The nameless, faceless somebody who you assumed orchestrated the attack, who told Boras to go after you. It had to be someone who knew your history, or at least understood it to an extent. Somebody you knew? Somebody who had watched you? The thoughts only threw you into further despair.

A guard found a cloth bag of gold dragons in Boras' pockets, so you knew he must have been paid. It was declared all throughout the camp that the boy had been a sellsword of some kind, and not a brilliant one at that. Whoever sent him thought he had the best chance at killing you, at getting you alone, at getting you to trust him. Had you not wandered into the woods that night, he would have likely found you later on in the week and pulled you aside knowing you would follow him. It was a strange stroke of fate that Aegon had tormented you, pushed you to take solace beside the woods. If you hadn't pushed on the events, if things hadn't played out exactly as they did, you would have likely died. Perhaps not that night, but it would have happened.

It not only chilled you to the bone but filled you with grief to know your life had been paid for, and it was your friend who sold it. Your friend; that sweet, sickly boy who played you songs on his beaten-up guitar. It made your heart throb, it brought a sickness to your chest that it was only those close, those who a person truly trusted, that had the power to betray them.

You frowned at the memory, doing your best to push the thoughts from your mind as you leaned back in your chair. You had been in Kingslanding for two nights now, yet you couldn't pull yourself from that moment in the woods, from the look in Boras' eyes and the feeling of blood on your hands and chest. If water could have cleansed you of that burden, you would have taken a hundred baths simply to feel pure for a moment. If moonlight could have washed your skin, you would have lay in the grass until seeds blossomed upwards from your skin.

But it was too little, too late.

Sighing, you regarded your hands, bound tightly in your lap. That was another scorn of yours. The maester had said your hands would heal with time, but they were so thick with bandages you were rendered completely incapable of anything until the skin wound back together, and the barest of movement brought you considerable pain. Those days on the road were utterly agonising. 

Nobody knew who to trust, or if another attack on your life would be made, so besides your constant monitoring, your family tortured you with their assistance. 

You had tried to deny them at first, horrified at the idea of having someone cut your food and bring a cup to your lips, but your own attempts at basic care were so plaintive you eventually had to submit. Helaena was by far the best carer to your needs, always delicate, always kind, and you could almost convince yourself it wasn't entirely pathetic to be fed your meals by your aunt. Then again, she wasn't always free to assist. 

Jace had done his best, truly, ever the gentleman, but the sadness in his eyes made you sick to your stomach. He looked at you with such distress and pity that you had to remind him you weren't dying of some awful plague. 

So, more often than not, it had fallen to Luke to do his best. Your mother was regretfully too busy conferring with Daemon and the King and though you were glad to not be mothered, Luke was truly awful at helping you. The poor boy had tried endlessly, but it got to the point in which he accidentally threw your cup of wine down your chest, sending awful memories of Boras' blood against you, that you succumbed to your own misery and declared you would be fine on your own until you reached Kingslanding.

Kaira was a welcome sight at the gates. She did not treat you like a wounded child, nor a crone on her deathbed. She looked at you as she always had, even while cutting your food and helping you drink. It was too shameful to sit and eat with your family, so she would come to your chambers every morning and night and talk at you endlessly. She told you of rumours within the servant's quarters and gossip about the court boys. She gave witty comments on the affairs of the Keep, and when she ran out of news, she told you of Dragonstone, of her village home and her family there. Kaira did not bring up Boras, nor did she mention the Hunt at all, and you were grateful to quietly listen to her as she took your mind off your sorry state. The red-headed girl was a true blessing. 

But it would still be an hour or so before Kaira would bless your doorstep, so here you sat, silently chewing your lip as you stared out at Kingslanding. The days were endless and somewhat tiring, confined to your chambers so as not to face the stolen glances of the court, simply... waiting. For what? You did not know, so you simply sat.

Your boredom did not last long, however, before a knock sounded at your door. Company was a nice idea and, expecting Jace or Helaena, you called out lazily for them to enter.

Aemond opening the door was the last thing you expected, and you raised your brows in surprise, moving to a stand.

"No need," Your uncle said, raising a hand to stop you and you lowered yourself back down with a frown. Aemond had never once entered your apartments, nor did you think he even knew where they were. It was slightly unnerving to see him there, staring at you with that strange calculating look of his. The quiet was lasting too long, an uncomfortable tension that had you clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Can I help you at all?"

Aemond shook his head simply, clasping his hands behind his back. "No, I just realised I hadn't asked after your well-being. I thought it would be best to make an appearance."

You hadn't expected him to care and, quite frankly, he didn't look particularly concerned. Aemond stood as stoically as ever, face carved from marble, with the cold aura of a statue itself; something entirely separate from the warmth of human nature. You did your best to offer him a reassuring smile, as though you weren't trying to mentally pick apart his mind. 

"I'm fine, thank you," You said shortly as your bandages began to itch. It took all of your willpower not to scratch at the heavy fabric, to instead remain looking up at him.

"My mother was informed you were cut quite deeply. I hope it gives you comfort to know she has prayed nightly for your full recovery."

You had to bite back the frown at the idea. Alicent was a god-fearing woman, but you highly doubted she would go to any lengths to pray for you, and the thought of them all sitting around the dinner table, hands pressed together as they wished for your recovery, was almost amusing.

"More than you can know," You nodded with a smile, carefully folding your hands over one another on the table. This whole exchange already felt awkward, like the room was too large, like there was too much space and too little to do besides shrink beneath his stare. And Aemond's stare was ferocious. You would expect that the absence of an eye would make his gaze less terrifying, but it only served to unnerve you further.

Aemond let the silence pass for far too long without speaking, perhaps in acknowledgement of your blatant lie. "The last time we spoke you told me to speak plainly, to not... hedge around what I am saying?"

"Uhh..." You couldn't help the knot in your brows as he wandered closer, though not with intent. Your eyes did not leave his frame as he stepped around you, silver hair nearly kissing your cheek in its proximity. "I suppose so, yes."

"May I sit?" You raised a brow, giving a short nod as he took out a chair and settled. Even now, he was as straight and rigid as dragon glass. You had to force yourself to breathe, to relax, to sit neatly opposite him, somewhat relieved of the short distance between you that the table granted. Aemond wasted no time, his voice chilly. "Why did Boras attack you?"

You couldn't help the sharp intake of breath at the question, and it took all of your power not to tense your shoulders under his gaze. It felt like he was prying into your very skull. How did he know his name? You had never mentioned his name, and yet he was dangling it in front of you like it was a won prize.

There was something about Aemond, even after your last conversation, that brought a chill to your skin. Something about the way he looked at you, something cold as ice and cruel as fire. You couldn't bring yourself to respond, to acknowledge that you had lied about Boras. It felt akin to digging your own grave, and Aemond thankfully relented.

"Aegon said you knew him, that you had been... friends." His thin lips twitched into the smallest of smirks at the word and you had every idea of what Aegon had told him about your old friend. You tried not to let the distaste show. "Your secret is safe with me, don't concern yourself. I merely want to better understand the situation."

"Why do you care?" Your voice was more bitter than you had meant it to be, but Aemond was playing a dangerous game, a game of knowledge, and you felt like you were losing before so much as rolling the dice.

"My brother killed for you." Aemond's tone did not change, but his words were fast and cruel, like an insult. You had to look down from his burning glare, taking a breath as the walls of your chambers closed in on you. It didn't make sense why you suddenly felt shameful, but something in his voice made you feel like the cruellest person alive and you didn't know why.

"It is no easy task and I want to know why he had to in the first place. I'm also aware that, as far as everyone else is concerned, you had... never met this Boras before in your life, an idea neither of us have enlightened them on." The reminder cast you even further into yourself, feeling like a scolded child before the man, as though he was not your senior by only a year. The fact that he suggested this like he had done you a favour, like you owed him for it, made your lip curl distastefully. "That being said, I don't see how anyone will find the person behind the attack without the full story, so I will ask you again. Why did Boras attack you?"

You took a deep breath, your bones uncomfortable against the cold wood of your chair as you sucked the skin of your cheek between your teeth. "I don't know."

"You have no inclination whatsoever?" Aemond questioned you as though you were being purposefully dim, even as his face betrayed none of what he truly felt. You had to force yourself to look him in the eye, to will your honesty into his gaze even as you felt your hair standing on end. "I assume you knew the man well enough? Well, what would inspire him to make an attempt on your life?" 

"Perhaps you should question your brother on that matter." Once again, the words came out harsh, but he was starting to grate on you. No matter how honest his intentions were, he had come to your chambers, sat at your desk, and interrogated you as though you were the one holding the blade that night. It made you antsy, sending chills down your forearms where your bare skin kissed the air. Aemond shook his head very slightly, that smirk still twitching his lips.

"He didn't attack you because of Aegon and we both know it. As foolish as my brother may be, he does not incite violence." He said matter-of-factly, and you knew he was right. Some part of you understood that, no matter how fearful or angry Boras was at Aegon, it did not motivate him to make an attempt on your life. Aemond's eyes darted to your hands for a moment, and you saw the smile widen ever so slightly, as though remembering something. "In most cases, at least."

The smell of smoke and sage, the sting of your hand, a flash of silver hair, those raging violet eyes. You blanched and stuffed your hands beneath the table to rest on your lap, willing yourself back into the present, the matter at hand. Boras, the blade, the horror on his face as glared at you, somewhere between frustration and sadness.

"He said-" Your fingers wove together almost on instinct. You couldn't even say his name, your old friend, as you relented, pressing yourself for reasons as to why Boras would have hurt you. "He asked me why I wasn't wearing something, he said he wouldn't have to hurt me if I was."

Aemond's eyes narrowed dangerously as you remembered the frightened look in Boras' eyes, the way he sounded so desperate. "Wearing what?"

The question brought an almost bitter smile to your face as you looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Well if I knew that, we wouldn't be sitting here now, would we?"

He must have known the frustration, the endless days you had pored over those memories, unpicked them with hammer and chisel until they were refined in your mind's eye. You would never forget them, yet the truth of the matter seemed somewhere deep in that Godswood, hidden between trees so thick you could barely see ten feet in front of you.

"So... somebody wanted you to wear something, wanted it so badly they tried to kill you for not."

You sighed, gritting your teeth to relieve some of that pressure. Aemond's glare had lessened as you unravelled your thoughts, but his eye remained steadfastly upon you. "It would appear so."

Aemond hummed for a moment, finally tearing his gaze from you to look out upon Kingslanding in the late afternoon light. The shadows of the Keep cast the city into a burnt orange as the sun dipped beside the sea. "A gift of some kind, perhaps? A... token?"

It was something, you had to admit. A great deal more than you had come up with for days, and yet you had nothing. If anything, the suggestion only opened more darkened doorways in your mind, more rooms in your memory to blindly search. "I had gifts given to me all throughout my travels from most of the Lords who housed me," You confessed, hinting at frustration.

"For this person to want you dead over not wearing it, I would assume this would have been something special, something... they would have expected you to cherish, to wear with pride." Aemond's voice had become gentler, nudging you towards revelation, but you just couldn't think. There were dresses, cloaks, jewels, and half of them were in trunks at Dragonstone.

"I don't-" Jewels... it brought something to your mind, something you had completely forgotten about. There was one gift that stood out, one that you had received after your travels and given little thought to since. Aemond seemed to recognise the look dawning upon your face as you remembered your first interaction with Boras on that day, the way his eyes flickered to your collarbone with apprehension before fleeing. 

You were up in a moment, so quickly the chair scraped against the stone floor, and across the room as quickly as your legs would take you. The drawers to your vanity slid open with ease, and you grabbed that lovely box with thick, unsteady hands. Your fingers shook with the effort, the sudden pain almost unnoticeable in your frantic state as you tried to still your trembling for long enough to find the little button that would open it. The bandages caused the box to slip, and you almost cried as your hands quivered with exertion. "Oh fucking-" 

You hadn't even noticed Aemond's approach, but the box was gone from your hands quicker than you could think, his long fingers finding the button with ease, almost as though he knew it was there already. It shook you sometimes, just how perceptive he was. Aemond was smarter than you liked. His eye narrowed somewhat as he beheld the necklace within for a moment, a muscle in his cheek flexing lightly as he moved the box up to the light, studying it with intent. You could only watch as he calculated something you were clearly too thick to realise and hummed softly as he figured it out.

"Some say carnations are declarations of love, heart aching love," He declared after a time.

Your brow twitched as you remembered the flowers engraved into the wood and you glared at the thing in his hands as though it would reveal its secrets to you itself. Of course he would notice the meaning behind the pretty pictures you had not given a second thought. "And marguerites?"

"Their message is somewhat clearer. In some cases, a sincere kind of love."

He still beheld the box with a subdued intrigue and the chill down your spine was unmistakable as you realised this gift meant so much more than you had initially thought. "And in others?"

"A message," He said softly. "That it will not be long before the recipient sees the sender again... In this case, we can consider it to have been a warning."

Your lips parted as you exhaled a sharp breath of air you didn't know you were holding. Aemond finally turned back to face you, his expression finally rid of that coldness, but your barriers were down regardless. You didn't care how much he unnerved you. This was far more terrifying. "Who gave this to you?" He said quietly.

"I don't know. It just arrived on my first morning back," You replied earnestly, almost desperately as dread crept up your spine. Your fingers twitched where you still held your hands in front of you, almost as though the box was still in your hands.

"And you didn't think it a little strange to be randomly gifted such a thing?"

"I was..." You didn't like the judgement in his tone, the implications that you were so thick you didn't debate the strangeness of it. "Distracted. I had forgotten about it entirely."

"And you're sure this is the only gift of any meaning?"

"Not entirely, but- at the dance, when I tried to speak with Boras before..." Your hands burned and you wiped them against your dress, as though blood still spilt from the wounds. "Well, before what happened, I saw him look at my neck. That's when he started looking really afraid."

Aemond hummed again, sighing very quietly as he nodded. He seemed to note your tension, that sudden understanding. "Do you mind if I take this?"

"Do you not think that maybe I should wear it? If this person wants to kill me if I don't?" The thought made you feel slightly ill, but if someone had sought out Boras with the intention of killing you for it, you would rather be safe than sorry.

"I hardly doubt wearing it now would help you at all, the damage is done," He sighed simply, snapping the box shut so suddenly you almost jumped. With this declaration, however, you were quite happy to never see the dreaded thing again and you gestured for him to take it. 

Aemond slid it into one of his heavy pockets, giving you a short nod before turning, the matter done in his eyes. You didn't know what he planned to do with the necklace, but you felt somewhat reassured that he wouldn't spill this secret. Aemond was a dutiful man, but not necessarily reckless, at least in a matter where his brother was concerned. It almost frightened you that one could be so level-headed about such a thing.

He was almost at the door when your mind finally cleared enough for another thought to come through, and his hand hesitated on the handle as you spoke up.

"Is Aegon okay?"

He remained there for a moment, only turning somewhat so that you could see his good eye. You couldn't quite understand the expression on his face as he spoke simply. "Every man must kill at some point in his life. I didn't think you would care much about his well-being."

The words cut harder than you would have wished, and your lips tugged into a small frown. Aegon was not a shining figure in your life by any means, and up until a few nights ago, you thought you might have hated him. But you remembered how his hands shook as he held you. "I'm not as cold as you seem to think I am."

"No," Aemond tilted his head slightly, his gaze perceptive, almost like he could see straight into your mind. "But he can be a cunt sometimes."

You almost laughed, almost, at the stoic expression on his face as he said such a thing, that tension finally breaking as you pursed your lips, looking down for a moment. "Is he, though?"

Aemond hummed softly as though in thought. "Aegon is... different. He works through things in his own way. He has... a lot to think about at the moment."

It seemed he was back to his cryptic words, hedging around topics as though implying things without actually saying them. You grit your teeth. "Meaning?"

"It was good to speak with you, Princess." Aemond nodded with that same minuscule smile, as if saying he perceived something far beyond your understanding. "I wish the best to you."

At that, he opened the door quietly and slipped from your chambers with the agility of a street cat. You heard the soft clink of the handle snapping back into place, but his footsteps were silent as he strode down the halls, leaving you to your thoughts. For a while, you just stood there, mulling over his words as though you had any hope of comprehending them, before eventually giving up and striding back to your desk. It took some effort to pick up your silver decanter, the wine within slightly warm from sitting in the sun all day, and your hands stung with the force it took to try to open that damned box. Eventually, however, you managed to pour yourself a sloppy cup, bringing it to your mouth using the bones where your hands met your wrist. It was a rather pathetic job, but you needed this, you needed this moment to yourself. 

As you sat there quietly, trying to comprehend that dark night, you came to a certain realisation. No matter how awful Aegon had been to you these past few years, you were in his debt. You may not have been able to understand why Boras attacked you, but the one thing you did know was that the only reason you were alive was because of your uncle, and you needed to make certain that what you had done to him, no matter how small in your mind, was put to right.

[chunkypossum]

By Solstice End

Azriel x Eris

11,654 total words

Part Two of Three || or… Read on AO3

Parts: 1 2 3

Warning: This chapter is less than stellar. I had high hopes for it but in the end... the holidays beat me down and here we are... I like to imagine that this is Eris writing the chapter himself after the fact when he is still tired and annoyed. Makes it make more sense to me lol. I'm hoping I recharge for the next one though because it's ALL AZRIS and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Eris tried to turn and leave but as quickly as they had disappeared, Feyre had returned. It was as if she had been expecting him to make a break for it and had desperately wanted to keep that from happening. He smiled wryly at her which she dutifully ignored in favor of smoothing her dress and taking two slow, calming breaths. When she looked back up to meet his stare, there as a placid smile on her face. 

“There.” She said, her smile settling into something more natural. “Where were we?” A fresh glass of plain champagne shimmered into existence and into her waiting fingers.

Eris bit back the choked exasperation clawing it’s way out of his throat and plastered on a simple but tired smile. “I believe you were about to lead me off my hunt, aiding and abetting your runaway Spymaster.” 

“Mmm.”Feyre made a show of tapping her chin and looking around the all room. “No, that’s not it.” 

Eris let out a small sound through is nose in disbelief.

She winked up at him as her champagne flute touched her lips. The liquid inside slid down her throat in one swift swallow then she was looping her arm through his, letting thte glass fall away from her grip as it disappeared.

Leading them straight out of the main hall, Feyre said cheerfully, “That’s right. We were going to take a walk.” 

Eris found it hard to be too irritated. Even if the orchestration was painfully obvious, Feyre was a smart distraction. The girl’s earnest behavior was a Boone in any deception. This trait of hers had led to more than one High Lord being deceived some years ago. At least Erris knew it as happening. So long as this ended very soon, he would play along. 

The High Lord and Lady of the Winter Court had spared no expense even utilizing the the frozen landscape outside to create a cold but inviting garden space for people to stroll through. The wind and most of the chill had been blocked by magic and what wasn’t could be combatted with complimentary parkas readily available at the garden doors. This way, guests could still enjoy the eerie stillness of the Artic nights and watch the swaths of color that lit the sky in waves of dancing lights. 

Eris and Feyre of course, declined letting their own magic keep their fingers and toes toasty while they walked. It was ridiculously opulent, Eris noted, going so far as to raise his nose at the floral displays. The grounds were encrusted with more flowers than the Spring Court. Cascading rose bushes fell into the path in colors so hushed they could have been mistaken for flowers made of snow. In fact, some of them appeared to be just that. Intermixed with the real peonies, lilacs and roses were fake ones made out of snow and ice that glittered alongside their softer counterparts. It created a dizzying effect but was not entirely unpleasant. 

“I don’t suppose we will find any allergy prone Illyrians out here?” Eris asked. He meant it as a snide remark but found it disgustingly difficult to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. 

Feyre hummed softly in response and said, ”Perhaps not. I’ve already heard at least one complaining heavily about why they even needed a garden in the middle of the frozen landscape in the first place. Big babies.” She muttered clinging tighter to Eris’ arm with both hands and leaning into his escort. 

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to give away his location after our walk?” Eris asked flatly. He squeezed her back taking a strange comfort in her presence at his side. 

Naturally, Feyre sidestepped the uestion entirely with one of her own. “I hear you got to attend the solstice alone this evening. How did you manage to work around your father?” 

Eris’ jaw tightened but he answered. “Believe it or not, the old fool got sick.”

“That is surprising” Feyre mused. “And your brothers?” 

This did make him smile a bit. “I convinced him they would only embarrass him. Which is most likely true, especially with Lucien here. They wouldn’t be able to help themselves and make a scene.” A shake of his head showed his wearnines. Something usually reserved for private moments but Eris found himself letting his defenses go around Feyre a long time ago. 

She nudged into his side with a smile. “Lucky you.” 

“Yes, very lucky.” He said with a touch of sarcasm. “Over 500 years old and I still have to lie and cheat my way out of the house just to get some time to myself.” 

Blowing out a dramatic breath, Feyre pretended to be apologetic. “And here I go, spoiling it all.”

“Not at all.” He squeezed her hand gently. “You were always my favorite Feyre.”

A bright laugh escaped her lips as they winded through the narrowing path. Flower petals, both real and carved, crunched under their feet as they went. It wafted up an intoxicating mix of scents that Eris suspected were giving off a light magic of their own. His eyelids felt slightly heavy but his heart was warm and full. 

“Dont lie, we all know Nesta is your favorite.” She laughed again, the flower magic working through her as well. 

“Only,” He began smiling widely. “Because she can dance. You’re far easier to get along with.” 

“I can dance.” Feyre said indignantly. 

“No, my dear.” Eris said, patting her hand, “You can do a lot of things, but dancing is not one of them.”

She slapped Eris playfully on the arm as they continued deeper into the enchanted garden. A little ermine came to keep them company, winding in and out of Eris’ legs as he walked, like one of Azriel’s shadows might have. He would have at least appreciated one of those trailing him tonight but they were suspiciously absent as well. 

Step after step, their walk continued for a little while longer. Eris found it easy to talk with her. Feyre seemed to be making it a point to update Eris on all that had happened in her life since the last time they had spoken, which had been over some formal state dinner or another. Those talks were usually formal and distant since Beron was usually present. Eris had always been at ease around her but they had never really had a conversation quite this in depth before. 

Feyre told him about her latest paintings and the classes she was teaching, about Nyx and his flying lessons and asked him the most curious things about his own life. She wanted to know if he had read any good books lately or what his favorite paths to walk in Autumn looked like. The conversation never strayed to politics as it usually did. She asked nothing about his father or brothers, or even his people. It was entirely domestic. 

Without even realizing it, Eris found himself divulging information with relish as he shared his favorite reads and walked her through his latest baking ventures. He felt his heart warm when he made her laugh with a story about a particularly needy crow who had been hanging around his bedroom window after he made the mistake of feeding it one time. It was easy to forget that Eris had another reason to be poking around the party, someone else he wanted to spend time with. Eris couldn’t even blame the heady feeling from the garden magic alone. He knew, somehwere deep down, that he had been craving his kind of easy friendship for long, long time. 

Eventually, about the fifteenth time she caught Eris glancing around for a stray shadow or two, Feyre seemed to have a little mercy on him. She paused their pace and turned to him. “Thank you Eris.” 

“For?” He asked politely. 

“Entertaining me. My own mate seems to have disappeared and I always enjoy your company.” 

He bowed his head slightly towards her and smiled. “Of course High Lady. In that case, should I seek you out more often for idle gossip?” 

“Stop that.” She said playfully smacking his arm. “But yes…” She said a bit more seriously. “I promise to make time for this whenever you need it most.”

“Thank you.” He replied a little taken aback by her tone. Before he could remark on it further she thrust a drink into his hand. 

“Here,” Feyre said at last, “Drink this.” It was a delicate champagne flute full of cobalt liquid. 

Eris only pursed his lips at her for a moment before downing the entire thing in one swig. Nothing happened at first and Eris found himself mildly disappointed. Just as that feeling manifested he suddenly had no need for it. Slowly a gold thread seemed to grow from his chest and pull outward until it lit a path for him leading deeper into the garden. 

Almost sighing in relief, Eris gave Feyre’s hands on his arm one more squeeze before she let go. Finally, he could go collect his bat. It had been a long night already and he was very tired. There were a pair of very strong arms that he wanted to fall into. 

“Follow that.” She said, nodding in the direction of the golden thread. “And good luck.” 

Before he could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Feyre vanished, having winnowed back into the party. 

“Well.” Eris said to himself as he reached out and plucked at the gold string tentatively. The glittered light bounced around his finger as it passed through. 

“I suppose this could be a ploy to get me alone and defenseless before offing me but at least it’s creative.”

Following the precious beam, Eris wound through the darkening garden until he found himself standing at the edge where a border of scalloped hedges lay, staring out into the frozen tundra beyond. Still, the thread pointed on. 

“Yes. They are definitely luring me out into the wilds to kill me.” The words were coated in a sardonic tone as he mused the different ways his tired allies might finally try to be rid of him. 

Or…Her thought, perhaps his father’s men had tampered with the drink and this wasn’t the Night Court’s intention at all. 

Just as he was trying to decide between taking another step out into the snowdrifts or turn back around and find more booze to drown his irritation in, something flew straight at Eris’ head. With a wave of his hand, the snowball split apart, fracturing into a million particles inches from his face. The fractals glittered around him, catching in his eyelashes as he blinked them away. 

“Hey bastard that’s cheating!” Called Cassian as he came running toward Eris. 

“Who are you calling a bastard, brute?” Eris crossed his arms over his chest, correcting his posture in the Illyrian’s presence. That stance usually commanded a certain respect that Eris was used to people bending to. Cassian completely ignored it.

Instead, the male swaggered over to Eris’ side, smirking like a wildcat. Rhysand wasn’t far behind. 

“Have you seen our brother?” They asked in unison nearly bursting out in a fit of giggles like school children. Drunk as skunks. Eris rolled his eyes. 

Still, something inside Eris eased at the sight of their merriment. It wasn’t until all he could hear in the garden was their blundering laughter that Eris realized standing on the edge of the magic, staring out into the haunting arctic night, he really had expected the worst. 

 “I was rather hoping the two of you would have the answer to that question.” Knowing that these two idiots would be the worst of his worries for now, he was able to let his taut muscles relax. 

They gave one another the most curious side eye before setting both their sights back on Eris. A hungry gleam shone in both the hazel and the violet pair. Eris swallowed uncomfortably against it. 

“I suppose you’ll do then.” Rhys said, ignoring Eris and flaring out his wings as he made his declaration. 

“For what?” Eris took a step away from both of them, back on his guard. Suddenly wary of their motivations, his eyes narrowed. 

“Snowball fight of course.” Cassian said merrily, coming up to put a meaty arm around Eris’ shoulders. He tried to shrug it off but Cassian only pulled him closer. 

“I won’t be doing that.” Eris replied, finally managing to slip out from under the gorilla’s hold. 

“Az said as much.” Cassian mumbled disappointed. 

Eris’ attention snapped to him. He started at Cassian, scrutinizing his expression that had quickly been shuttered.  “What are you talking about?” 

The High Lord elbowed his brother in the ribs and quickly changed the subject. 

“Oh come now Eris, it’s the holidays.”  Rhys gestured between the two of them. “Aren’t the High Lords supposed to be strengthening our alliances during this time?” 

“I’m not a High Lord.” Eris corrected him.

“Yet.” Those violet eyes sparkled with mischief and Eris had the absurd urge to rush back to the forest house. 

“You didn’t.” Eris mouthed in disbelief. 

Rhys nearly burst from his laughter, holding his arms tightly around his middle. “Oh Cauldron Eris, what do you take me for? Of course we haven’t done anything. I’m just saying. You will be one day and it would be nice if I didn’t want to strangle you every time I spoke with you.”  

Eris chose not to answer. There were a lot of things he took Rhysand for, none of them appropriate to say just then. He wanted Rhysand sober for those jabs. Seeing the normally cold and cruel male unable to pull himself together long enough to speak a sentence was unnerving. 

“Rhysand we have been working together for several years. If you were ever going to stop hating me don’t you think you would have done so by now?” He tried not to show it but something inside Eris, something he didn’t want to name, deflated a little at the accusation. It’s not that he wanted to be friends with Rhysand but he did want to be accepted. Though Eris would never admit it. 

“Rhys!” Cassian exclaimed, “How could you hate this face?” The big gorilla was back with another arm slung heavily over Eris’ shoulders. His other hand came up and squeezed both of Eris’ cheeks together. Cassian shook his head in disappointment at his brother. Rhys leaned in and scrutinized Eris’ face like he was really considering the question. The crease in his forehead deepened in thought and he frowned. Irritated, Eris wanted to light up like a match and while he was able to hold himself back, he did growl at the duo.

“Who said I hate him? Eris? Who said I hate you?” 

“Cauldron,” Eris started, shaking Cassian off. “The two of you are incredibly intoxicated.”

“All the better to snow fight … play snow … ball fight with. All the better to snowball fight… with.” Rhys held up his pointer finger, concentrating on it with crossed eyes as he tried, and failed, to get his sentence out. 

“This is why Azriel wins every year isn’t it?” Eris asked derisively, a smile breaking across his face despite himself. His hands were deep in his pockets as the two males before him broke out in another fit of inebriated laughter. They were annoying and Eris made a show of being annoyed, but honestly he didn’t mind too much. 

Somehow their antics made Eris feel warm inside, different from the fire in his veins, like he was a part of something bigger. It was a feeling he sorely lacked when dealing with his own family. Eris easily blamed it on the soft, loving magic of the garden but, somewhere deep inside of himself, he suspected that wasn’t entirely the truth. 

“I resent that. We take our snowball fights very seriously.” Cassian explained, puffing out his chest.

“I’m sure you do.” Eris drawled, looking around. He was growing tired of babysitting drunk Illyrians and wished to continue his search. 

“Oh no you don’t.” Rhys put an arm around Eris’ shoulder and tugged him away from the castle and out towards the blistering night. 

“I’m not going out in that.” Eris said flatly. 

Cassian sighed like it was Eris who was the one being difficult. The irritation slowly building up in the male was about to come out in a fiery torrent but he squashed it down, just wanting to find a way out of their clutches. 

“Will you just trust us?” Rhysand asked in his velvety dark way. Eris had to bite back the need to huff. How anyone ever fell for that display was beyond him.

“No.” Eris made to turn away again but Rhysand only held him tighter.  

Eris winnowed out of the male’s grasp just a couple feet away and straightened out his jacket. “I suppose I will leave you two idiots to-“ Cassian was there in a heartbeat, grabbing Eris around the waist and pulling him in close to his side. 

Now seething Eris started to protest, embers crackling around the ends of his hair. Thinking quickly, Rhysand thrust out his own magic, pulling Eris into that night dark embrace of his power winnowing the three of them away. 

“Get your disgusting paws off me you brute.” Eris made to pull away from Cassian but the male was not listening. He pulled Eris from the bitter cold and snow where they had rematerialized,  into a room hot with steam. 

Immediately the two other males began to undress. When Cassian noticed Eris standing stock still staring at the two of them incredulously, he smirked. 

“Embarrassed?”

Eris scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest but turning pointedly away. “Hardly.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Cassian winked at him as he struggled to remove his shirt.

“What am I doing here?” Loosening his grasp on his anger, Eris sighed, dropping his hands down to his sides as he looked around. 

The antechamber was small, hardly enough room for the three of them and two sets of giant wings but the warm wood surrounding them made it feel less confined and more cozy. With his fire magic, Eris had never had the need or desire to step into one of these Birchins though he heard Azriel speak of it from time to time. Now that he was here, he could almost see the appeal. Steam wafted from under the door that led to the main area and Eris had to admit to himself that he was curious.

“Well you couldn’t expect us to wait around for Azriel forever could you? Might as well make him come to us.” Rhys shrugged. Having finished his preparations, the male sauntered into the next room, the door closing shut softly behind him. 

That might have been the first thing the High Lord had said all evening that Eris couldn’t outright refute. With a sigh, he waved a hand lazily in the air and his clothes were magically removed, folded neatly in one of his pocket voids and replaced with a towel. 

“Nifty.” Cassian observed with a little envy. 

Eris huffed a small chuckle as he adjusted the towel around his waist. Annoyed at the over-the-top sounds the brute was making as he stretched his arms up over his head, Eris glared sidelong at him. Cassian looked over and noticed his stare before Eris could hide it and grinned widely. 

“It’s ok you can say it… you’re jealous of my muscles.” Cassian joked. 

Eris rolled his eyes and swallowed every hateful word he wanted to say. Normally he would be chomping at the bit to knock the beast down a few pegs but as the night wore on, so did Eris. 

When he didn’t reply Cassian continued. “The strong should protect the weak. I-“ 

“Just because my muscles aren’t comically oversized does not mean I am weak.” Fire sputtered out of the ends of his fingertips but Cassian only laughed. 

The bat waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. Your magic can only get you so far.” Eris scoffed again.

“I’m a general you-”

“What - hicc - ever” Hiccuping, Cassian continued before Eris could protest further. He puffed out his chest and took a deep, animated breath. “Eris, since you’re…” He waved a lazy hand at Eris’ torso, “... Built the way you are, I should take it upon myself to promise to protect you… you know, like family or whatever.” As the sentence drew on, Cassian’s bravado faded a bit and the last words strung out pathetically. Eris had to stifle a laugh of all things. 

“Because I’m weak.” Eris smirked at the drunk brute.

“Yea because you’re- wait no!” Cassian huffed, his alcohol hazed mind trying to catch up to Eris’ wit. “No because you’re-“ 

Cassian growled again as Rhys poked his head through the doorway, interrupting. “Are you two just going to bicker in the doorway all night?” 

Eris grumbled under his breath, something about “overgrown bats” that the other two couldn’t quite make out. Mask of indifference securely fitted, Eris slipped past Rhysand towards the inner chamber. Cassian’s drunk promise, though he knew better than to let it affect him, cracked something inside of his cold heart. He would have rather burnt to cinders before letting either of them see that kind of emotion cross his face. 

Eris entered the large inner chamber full of more hot steam and several tiered benches lining the walls. Naturally, he chose a spot strategically placed near the exit and as far away from Rhysand as he could get, hoping the dog would sit next to his master. 

It had been a fruitless effort from the start. Cassian stomped in moments after the other two had found their seats and frowned between the two of them before taking a spot next to Eris. He raised a split eyebrow at his brother who sighed before slipping into darkness and reappearing on the other side of Eris. Suppressing a growl Eris thought to himself that it was a damn shame the two couldn’t just pass out and leave him be. 

Relenting, Eris sighed, leaning back on his elbows and immersing himself in the experience. Maybe if he just stayed quiet they would leave him alone and he could slip out after a while unnoticed. That too, was a fruitless wish. 

Silence permeated the heavy air between them but it was not uncomfortable. The three of them simply sat there letting the steam fill their lungs and coat the hard planes of the bodies in glistening pearls. It was Rhysand who broke the silence, groaning slightly as he flexed his wings, stretching them to their full span and back in again. 

“Why do I already have a hangover?” He complained. 

“You stopped drinking brother.” Cassian chided with a soft laugh. 

“Why the hell are you so fine then?” Rhys lobbied back. He opened an eye to glare at Cassian.  

“I… haven’t.” He waggled his eyebrows at Rhysand picking a flask up from the bench where it sat next to him, just out of sight. 

“You bastard. Why haven’t you been sharing?” Rhysand admonished, grabbing for it.” Cassian moved just in time, holding it out of his High Lord's reach but the other male, thinking quickly, used his dark magic to steal it right from Cassian's grip. It plopped into his waiting hand and Rhys had it emptied in seconds. 

Cassian shouted and before it could break out into an all out brawl they were both shocked into a standstill at the sound of Eris’ laughter. 

Eris choked down the sound seeing both sets of eyes turn on him, bewildered. Rhys grinned like some feral beast making Eris groan. 

“I didn’t mean that.” He supplied,sitting up and trying to get out of whatever bonding moment was about to happen. 

“Yes you did.” Cassian rounded on him. “Don’t lie.” 

“I-“ Eris hesitated unsure of how to best explain himself. 

“It’s just that… the way you act towards one another is so ridiculous … I’ve never… he is your High Lord and you’re acting like chil -“ 

“Like family Eris.” Rhysand said, sitting up a little straighter. There was that look in his eyes again. The one that Eris couldn’t stand. The one that sat between pity and the words he knew the High Lord really wanted to say. 

You’re not like us, Eris. You’ll never understand. You’ll never be family like that.

They lapsed back into silence for a beat before Eris said plainly. “I may not have that kind of… background.” An audible swallow made Eris’ throat bob, unsure how to be this vulnerable, especially in front of them. “But I am… determined to have that kind of future.” 

“The Fae are old Eris, the land older still and everything is slow to change. But, as our own mates have made it quite clear, it isn’t a proper excuse to not do more and try harder. I look forward to your rule and promise to always back your ideas for the betterment of us all.” Rhys sat up, fully turning to Eris and his eyes were clear, shining. That stare plucked at Eris’ nerves and he nearly squirmed under it. 

“Well, if you two are done with your feeling circle -“ Cassian began but Rhys was quick to punch him in the arm making Eris huff out another small puff of laughter. 

“I think this steam is getting to my head. It’s time to go.” Eris stood up and left the two pitiful males whining behind him as he summoned his clothing in the antechamber. 

Their muttering followed him and he smiled despite himself as he got dressed. 

“You scared him off.” 

“Me? You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off him.” 

“Ugh Az is -“ 

There was a strangled noise as if Rhysand had elbowed Cassian in the gut again, cutting off his speech. 

Eris shook his head, deciding not to look further into those words just then and winnowed away. 

When the world unfolded around him, Eris was pleased to find that he wards on the property had recognized him as an earlier attendant and let him right in. Eris was now in a secluded hallway on the second floor of the ice palace, the sounds of the party below him thumping up through the floor into his feet. 

A railed balcony circled around the middle of the tree at the center of the festivities and as Eris drew near the music and laughter from below bellowed. He took up a place leaning against the railing and looked down over the party. 

The absence of giant Illyrian wings couldn’t be more stark. As much as Eris had been looking forward to his night away from the Vanserra manor, he was about to get irritated enough to go back. 

“You found me.” A voice sounded next to his ear. It was seductive and soft like velvet. Eris smiled. 

His lips may have curved upward but his shoulders dropped in disappointment all the same. “I wasn’t looking for you.” He cast a side glance at Nesta who smiled back mischievously. 

“Oh yes you were. You just didn’t know it.” She held out her hand expectantly. 

“What am I to do with that?” Teasing, he looked down at her open palm. 

“Take it!” She hissed, reaching for him. 

Making a dramatic show of protest, Eris rolled his eyes to the ceiling but pressed his hand into hers all the same. 

“I was supposed to only make sure that you were still in one piece after those two idiots had gotten their claws into you. However, I think I need a dance for my troubles.” She winked at him and even though Eris was desperately tired, he smiled, spinning her once out into the middle of their little private space and then back into him with a sigh. 

“Very well then. As you wish.” He eased them into the music with expert grace. Nesta hummed her approval, melting into his arms. 

“So are you then?”

“What?” He whispered. Eris’ thoughts had quickly escaped him. Now that he was in the relative safety of someone he was mildly comfortable with, he felt like he could relax. 

“In one piece.” 

“I’m not sure.”  Eris shuddered. Unable, or maybe just unwilling, to process his feelings about his encounter with, those two idiots, as she so affectionately called them. 

“That bad huh?” Nesta sighed as Eris pulled her close and they began again in time with the music below as it flowed into a new, slower song. “They mean well you know.” 

“Do they though?” Eris sounded unconvinced. He was almost positive that neither of them would remember interacting with Eris at all come the next day. “I was under the impression that the alcohol they had replaced their blood with simply caused a temporary insanity.” 

“That too.” Nesta’s laugh tickled the hairs on the back of his neck as she pressed herself into him when they spun. “But truly they’re trying.” 

“If you say so.” 

They didn’t speak for the rest of the number, using their energy to instead concentrate on the flow of each other’s bodies. Perfectly and strangely in sync with one another, they danced. It wasn’t until the very end that Eris spoke back up. 

“I find myself willing to stay for another dance.” His voice was tired but no less sultry and teasing for it. 

“I promised to make this a short and sweet reprieve; however, I could offer you another promise in exchange if that’s alright.” 

“Of course.” He breathed, letting her pull away from him enough to look into his eyes. 

“You look tired…” Nesta smiled, holding out her pinky to him. “Forever dance partners?” 

“Forever dance partners.” He agreed, wrapping his own pinky around hers. “And I am tired. Where is he?” Eris asked a little desperately, pressing an uncharacteristic kiss to the side of her temple. She stiffened momentarily in surprise but melted quickly after patting his cheek with a smile. 

“Ok go.” Nesta whispered. “Go find him.” 

“But where-” Distantly, Eris heard the clamoring of Rhys and Cassian bumbling down some hallway or another close by, Eris’ name on their lips. He grumbled under his breath. 

“Go, I’ll hold them off.” Nesta laughed, pushing him away from her and toward another, seemingly empty corridor. 

Despite Nesta promising to cover for him, The two bats on his tail seemed to be getting closer and closer. Trying to stay out of sight, Eris opened one of the first doors he came to and slipped inside the darkened room. 

Closing the double doors quietly, Eris leaned his forehead up against the seam and took a grounding breath. He was Eris Fucking Vanserra and here he was scuttling around in the dark like a rat. 

After giving himself a moment to catch his breath, feeling the ache of exhaustion seep into his bones, Eris told himself he would just call it a night and head back to the forest house. He would find a way to make Azriel pay later. Revenge would be delicious. 

One peaceful breath is all he would receive. In the middle of his next inhale a voice slithered out of the darkness to curl around his nape. Eris shivered.

“This hiding spot has already been claimed.” His teeth hurt from the way they clenched against that sound.  

“What am I? A night court attractant?” He muttered under his breath before turning around and giving Amren a grimacing smile. 

“Why…” she drawled tilting her head to the side like a spider assessing something caught in its web.  “…Are you hiding from my High Lord?” Amusement sparked in those pale eyes.

“I’m not…” Eris began to argue but the sounds of Rhys and Cassian shouting his name made him shrink into the shadows nullifying any argument. He sighed, throwing himself back on the wall before going limp from exhaustion. 

Amren eyed him with a cruel smile from her perch on Varians lap. Eris closed his eyes and laughed softly to himself. Hiding was exactly what he was doing, him, a Vanserra, tucked away in a forgotten room with an ancient creature and her play thing. 

She didn’t wait for an answer other than the partial concession he had already provided before going back to devouring her meal. A grimace settled on his face at the sounds and against his better judgment he opened his eyes. 

“Thank the Cauldron.” The words were uttered through a relieved sigh. Right behind the pair was another set of double doors that would surely lead him to a quiet, empty space where he could prepare to winnow back home in peace. 

Steeling himself, Eris took a breath and pushed away from the wall. He took no more than two steps forward when Amren pulled away from Varian who whined at the loss of her. She narrowed her eyes at him as she took a sip from the goblet sat beside her on the little golden table next to their chair. Heat from that stare felt like knives at his back but Eris ignored it in favor of escaping. 

“Not even I saw this one coming.” She purred, turning away to lick a strip up the column of Varian’s neck. 

The veiled comment stopped Eris in his tracks. He froze, hand outstretched towards the gilded doorknob and hissed. All evening he had been stripped down over and over to his most vulnerable states by nearly every member of the Night Court’s inner circle. All of their comments and poorly masked distractions had grated him down to nothing. Eris had reached his limit. 

It occurred to him that he was finally in the same room with someone who, though slightly terrifying, might not care enough to keep any secrets from him. Asking was worth a try since he was about to go out of his mind either way.

Turning to the tiny female, Eris surged forward until he was inches from her. Though he towered over them both where they sat Amren did not flinch. Varian however, glanced between the two, nervous to be placed so close to the rising tensions.

Past the point of caring about consequences, Eris snatched the drink from her grasp and downed it before Amren could even snarl at him. Varian’s hands visibly tightened around her waist as she tensed and Eris was silently thankful for the hold he had on her. Maybe he wouldn’t get his throat ripped out for his foolishness. 

Gathering up his remaining pride Eris looked down his nose at Amren and asked, “What was that supposed to mean?” His voice was smooth and practiced. 

Amren, unphased by the Prince’s display, let her blood red lips curve into a menacing smile. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Remaining poised was a strain. This was getting ridiculous. Eris narrowed his eyes on her but after a beat, released the breath he had been holding and turned to walk away. Rhys and Cassian’s voices could still be heard from somewhere down the hall and, more than answers, Eris just did not want to get caught by them again. 

From behind him, Amren harrumphed as though she had been poked and muttered something to Varian that sounded somewhat like “fine, fine”. 

Clearing her throat she said, rather reluctantly, “Alright boy, come here.” Eris almost smiled at the fact that Varian had been able to make her heel but the way she called out to him made him cringe instead.  

“Must you call me that?” He asked through grit teeth, unable to help himself. He knew she was far older than he, but something about the way she said it reminded him so much of Beron that he had had a hard time hearing it.

When Amren didn’t answer he finally turned back around to face her. There was a conspiratorial look on her face that made Eris clench his teeth together again in anticipation for what she might say to him. Varian also eyed her suspiciously. 

“Fine.” She drawled, a cat-like grin widening across her features. “I promise to quit calling you boy… Eris.” 

Varian’s suspicious stare melted into amusement as he raised his eyebrows at her. Amren closed her eyes and nodded her head towards Eris, as much of a show of respect he could ever hope for from someone like her. A disbelieving puff of laughter escaped his lips and he returned the gesture, unsure of what else to do. 

When she made no move to say anything else to him, Eris turned his back on the pair once again and finally found his escape into the dark adjoining room. The air was cool against his heated skin and he instantly let out a breath of relief as the doors closed behind him. 

The doors clicked quietly shut as Eris leaned back against them with a sigh. He scrubbed at the bridge of his nose with one hand trying to work through what just happened when someone let out a dramatic sigh from just a few feet away. Eris glanced up through his fingers and growled.  

“Oh for Cauldron’s sake!” Eris threw himself dramatically against the door and slid to the floor, completely exhausted. 

“Well aren’t you as mature as ever?” Said a too sweet voice from the corner of the room. His legs were splayed out childishly in front of him and he let his head loll lazily to the side. Now making eye contact with Mor who was sitting in an oversized chair, one of a pair, and sneered at her. 

“Is this some sick coincidence or are you a part of this too?” Eris asked, his voice rough with irritation. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She patted the chair next to her. “While you’re here, come sit. I’ve been meaning to have a word with you anyway.” 

“No.”

“Quit being a baby. Hungry?” A small spread appeared on the table before her and she smiled mischievously at him when he perked up at the smell of roasted potatoes and lemon chicken. Constantly being yanked around by too many people, he hadn’t stopped to think about it but now it was painfully obvious that he hadn’t eaten anything all night.

Grumbling, but not louder than his stomach, Eris relented, standing and dragging himself over to Mor. Plopping down hard into the soft leather armchair, Eris groaned, unable to even sit up and feed himself. With his head laying back on the cushion Eris reached out blindly for something to eat, only just grazing the edge of the table over and over pathetically.

“Oh Mother save me.” Mor muttered, thrusting a warm roll into his stretched out fingers. Eris immediately brought it up to his lips and tore off a chunk. 

“Mphnk mm.” He mouthed around his chewing. 

Surprisingly, Mor laughed. “You are such a baby. Who would have thought your arrogance was all for show? When it really comes down to it you’re rather pitiful aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eris meant it to sound haughty but it was evident he just wasn’t into putting on a show tonight. He couldn’t even sit up to look at her, he was so tired. “Fine. Something something, slutty outfit, something something. That better?” 

Mor smiled into her glass of wine. “Much.” She agreed. 

After being enticed by the roll, Eris managed to sit up and put together a small plate of food for himself. They ate in silence but she somehow managed to irritate him anyway. Drinking heavily from her seemingly bottomless wine glass, Mor kept staring at him from the corner of her eye. The reluctant energy wafting off her began to grate on his nerves. 

Finally sated enough to bear the weight of whatever was on her mind, Eris looked over at Mor and waited. 

“What?” Her tone was annoyed like he had been the one to corner her, not the other way around. 

“I was waiting for you to tell me.” He said, sitting back in his chair and crossing one leg elegantly over the other. Eris clasped his hands over his now sated stomach and let the corner of his mouth tip up slightly, just enough to annoy her. 

Mor tapped her rub painted nails on the side of her wine glass in thought, considering Eris carefully. After the third time she opened and closed her mouth Eris rolled his eyes and sat forward, bracing his forearms on his knees and stared her down intently. 

“Morrigan. Thank you for …” He nodded towards the food. “This… but the demure act does not suit you. Say what you wish to say.” 

Sitting forward, she inhaled sharply through her nose, staring him down. The look was pointed and critical but not in the way it usually was, coated with all out hostility. Now she looked at him with something more like curiosity. The power of truth lit up the core of her eyes as her lips parted once again. 

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question but the words were barely audible. Just a breath of surprise that passed through those painted lips. Eris could only swallow against the accusation, denial was just out of reach. 

The iron masks that hid his true self, the ones he had crafted over years of trial and error, protected Eris from his father, his enemies, and from having to put himself in a position as vulnerable as the one he found himself in now. It wasn’t fair that after just one night of being pelted with the prospect of having a different life, one free of the need of those masks, that they crumbled away like they were made of nothing more than paper.  Yet, as he sat there and looked back at her, Wris couldn’t find the words to hide the ruth that he knew was already written all over his face. 

The only thing keeping him from giving her the answer she already held in her knowing gaze was that Azriel and Eris hadn’t spoken those words to one another. Their secret affair had been going on much longer than anyone knew. Even though they had relinquished the hold on that secret to a select few, it hadn’t put them any closer to defining what they had to each other. Eris had tried not to think about how he truly felt, it terrified him. Not just to feel those things openly but at how much it would hurt to lose them should something go wrong. So much could go wrong. 

His silence was the only answer she needed. Mor closed her eyes against the fear he was now projecting, giving Eris time to adjust himself. The odd urge to thank her died in his throat as he slid a safer mask over his features. Just when he thought she was about to taunt him, Mor pursued her lips hiding a smile. 

Eris’ nostrils flared in annoyance but she held up a finger to silence him before he could say anything. 

“I had a whole fucking thing planned but just as I thought you would… you ruined it.” 

Indignant, Eris huffed, about to argue with her when she stood up and tugged at his arm until he joined her. Now facing one another Mor reached up and gently held his face in her hands. Eris was too stunned to do anything but allow it, his composure quickly crumbling again at the look on her face. 

“You be good to him.” She breathed. “Be true and protect each other and I promise… I promise Eris that I will be there to support you, both of you. I will always give you the benefit of the doubt and seek the truth before lashing out.” With her promise spoken, Mor released the hold her had on him and something seemed to dim in the air around them. Like power had risen up and enveloped them as she spoke. 

Something started to click into place in his mind but Eris pushed it away, promising to analyze it later. Instead he focused on the emotion welling up in his throat. Eris tried to swallow it down but found that he couldn’t. Silver lined her eyes and he was afraid that his own mirrored the effect. He was too tired for this irrational display and stepped away from her daming stare. 

Before he could say anything she pulled away from him wiping the corner of her eye with the end of her pinky and gestured to the door at the opposite end of the room from where he had entered. 

Eris looked for Mor to the direction she was pointing and back again. A smile crept up on his face as he said, “If Rhysand and Cassian are behind that door this entire Ice palace is going to be melted to the ground. I hope you and your ilk are prepared to take the blame.” 

“Oh shut up and just go.” Mor pushed him towards the door, choking on her own laughter. “Before I change my mind and flay you like I’ve wanted to for centuries.” 

If you want on or off the tag train just holla at ya boi ... @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @acourtofladydeath @fieldofdaisiies @fell-in-luvs @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @pippsmcgee

[theirmadness]

for @king7doms, with love. ♡

she'd openly challenged him, because she knew, his hands were tied.

there was naught he could do with caraxes so far away. all the way in the dragonpit, where he'd be no help to daemon as his brother's men surround him. no, dark sister alone would not do to steal her... not on her wedding night, not right under the king's nose. so, for the remainder of the night, he sat, brooded, and he waited. daemon was going to orchestrate a situation, himself, but the gods smiled upon him: a situation arose, without the rogue prince having to lift a finger.

pandenonium broke loose. guests were at each other's throats, half of them too drunk to know what was happening. amidst it all, there was her. hand on his sword, he watched. she was pushed to corners, but she'd end up getting hurt, if she wasn't careful. he moves a foot, ready to step in, when he catches glimpse of ser harwin strong. great big oaf that he is, making his way towards her. daemon pushed in, all elbows. one calculated shove, and he had a man tumbling towards a rather pissed looking, taller man. the end result? ser strong out of the board, getting punched in the face. in the time it took him to recover?

daemon had made his way to the princess. he said nothing. no words were needed. she knew that it was him; daemon tossed her over his shoulders as if she was naught more than a sack of potatoes. funny thing was, she weights less. he kept a hand on her back to hold her in place as he pushed through the crowd. no one knew ways in and out of the castle better than him. and no one notices as he escapes the crowd into one of the servant's entrances. it's a poorly lit, otherwise deserted hallway that leads into one of the lower kitchens. there's no one there, but he glances around to make sure. only then, he sets her down, eyes doing a quick scan of her face and her arms. she was fine.

❝ iksan stealing ao, dārilaros. ❞ i'm stealing you, princess. daemon smirked at her, cupping her cheek as he stole a passionate kiss from her lips. a kiss that promised her a lot more. rhaenyra was not going to marry some boy, no. rhaenyra had been his from the moment she had been born. he didn't give her a chance to think, or to protest. and if she did, he paid her no mind. he grabbed hold of her and led her outside. his other hand was on dark sister, ready, just in case. most of the castle's guards were indoors, but the few stragglers outside were of no importance ot him. daemon managed to avoid most of them, although a few had been at the receiving end of his elbow or his fist. eventually, hurried foosteps led them to narrow steps leading down to the dragonpit. he scoops her into his arms, again, and is unsurprised to find that both syrax and caraxes are there: waiting. the bond daemon shares with his dragon is special.

caraxes never needed spoken commands. and it seemed that he, too, had seen it fit to steal syrax. he led her towards caraxes, and only set her down to help her up onto the saddle. syrax would follow. now?

she is flying with him. he may not have cut down many men, but he was stealing the princess right under the king's nose. this, could cost him his head. but daemon does not care. he can hear the distant and faint sounds of footsteps, shouting. ah, so they finally took notice of her missing. the rogue prince merely smiled, climbing atop caraxes. his dragon screeched into the night, and before long, daemon and his soon-to-be-bride were flying to dragonstone. he made her wrap her arms around him, and held her dainty hands firmly there. she'd be his, before the night was through. and no one, would take her from him.

[the-oakwald-ambassador]

The Masks We Wear (10)

Helion’s acquiescence came at a price - Eris was to secure him fifteen uninterrupted minutes of conversation with the Lady of Autumn. 

Which Eris shook hands on, knowing that the snake inside of him would slither its way into a solution during crunch time, as he always had. 

But the orchestration of the event - this gods damned High Lord’s meeting in Dawn - was brutal to say the least. Beron was irate at the idea of being excluded, and he and his counselors had been dogging Eris with information and schemes for the entire week leading up to the conference. 

Beron was running him ragged, day in and day out, reviewing the items on Beron’s docket that were not to be revealed, not even for the highest of prizes.

And Eris was rightfully fearful to reveal the price of Helion’s trade routes. 

Beron didn’t want his schemes revealed - only the Mother could save Eris from his wrath if he found out that Eris had bargained with the availability of his Mother to another male, regardless of how innocent it may be. 

Even if it wasn’t innocent, Beron would be able to smell another male on her immediately, and if she valued her and her paramour’s life, she would remain very far from Helion. 

She had to know to keep her distance, Eris convinced himself as he tried - and failed - to warn her of Helion’s request. She had neglected to invite him into her chambers when he called on her, the night before the meeting. 

Again - Beron must have done a number on her. 

Eris’s jaw hurt from how hard he was gritting his teeth.

By the time he returned to the sitting room in his chambers, five of his six brothers were there waiting for him with apprehension in their eyes. 

Against centuries of his best efforts to conceal them, all of them knew to look over him for burns and bruises. 

And watch for winces. 

But lucky for Eris, the torture had only been focused on his ears. By the time he stripped his vest off leaving him in a loosely-laced linen shirt, his head was pounding,

“Are you okay, brother?”

“Eris, what’s wrong?” 

“What can we do?”

“What happened with Father?” 

Eris met them with silence and deliberately slow breaths.

His second youngest brother, one who was only a year older than Lucien, asked him the unspoken question hanging in the air.

“Why are you taking Mother?” 

Silence reigned supreme in the chamber. 

“Because Helion bartered trade for a moment with her, and I was told not to come home empty handed. The only way I could protect her - and you all - was to be here, in the gods damned Forest House, to take the brunt of Beron’s wrath after finding out about this High Lord’s meeting that’s being held without him.” 

Eris exhaled every bit of air in his lungs. 

And his brothers all inhaled it in horror. 

He had said too much, it seemed, Eris lamented as he tipped his head back to rest on the back of the couch. 

He closed his eyes shortly after, and weeks of exhaustion hit him like a brick. 

Maybe he would find his way to the cabin in the woods tonight, he thought as he began to drift towards unconsciousness. 

He heard a door open and paws pad in, followed by the quiet sounds of his brothers making a gentle exit. 

His most beloved pup, Nox, cuddled up against his thigh, sighing deeply as he settled into the cushions of the couch with his master. 

Eris sighed, too tired to reprimand him and too comfortable to make his way to his bed, so there he stayed. Breathing in, worrying for his mother, and breathing out, hoping to see his mate. 

There was a bit of excitement deep in his bones, he realized just as his surroundings shifted from a cozy sitting room deep in the Autumn Court to the clearing in the woods deep in a mysterious northern forest. 

“Eris, my dear, come in!” the woman called through her front window as she saw him standing in the clearing in front of the cabin. 

A hand slipped into his and led him towards the home. 

Eris sucked in a harsh breath, waking immediately from the bliss he was drifting towards. 

Something was very wrong.

Deep in his chest, something ached. 

Deep in his soul, terror and pain ran loose. 

Something was wrong with him.

And Eris couldn’t wait another moment to find out what. 

He winnowed out of the Forest House, landing in front of Kier’s door a moment later, somewhere deep in the Court of Nightmares. 

Kier opened the door after Eris began incessantly banging on it, confused at the Heir of Autumn’s unmentioned visit. 

Before the steward of the Hewn City could ask why he was there, Eris began barking his order. 

“Call Rhysand here. Now.” Eris said flatly, demandingly, as he walked into Kier’s front room.

“You want me to summon my High Lord, on what? A whim?” Kier asked incredulously.

“I’ll make it worth your while, Kier. I knew how badly you used to want to treat with Autumn. Hell, you wanted it bad enough for you to almost sign yourself up to be my father in law for all of eternity - so let me ask you this, what will it take for you to call Rhysand.” Eris barked.

“It’s the middle of the night. He will be furious.” 

“And I already am, Kier, so tell me - what will it take?” Eris snipped. 

“I want a smokehound.” Kier said, smiling already. 

“Something else, something that won’t raise my father’s notice.” Eris dismissed him.

“You want to play games with High Lords? You better act like you know how.” Kier snarked, inspecting his nails for dirt arbitrarily.

“I will not be playing games with Rhysand, Kier. I simply have a question I must ask him now. You, however, I could burn to ash and let your remains float to his home as a summons instead. Is that what you would prefer?” Eris whispered menacingly, flame dancing between his fingers as if he were playing with it. 

Kier gulped but didn’t back down easily. 

“Fine, no smokehound. But I want one of your brothers to marry into the family.” 

“If they see fit to do so, they will. Besides, I doubt anyone would want to try to tame the Morrigan now.” Eris said, rolling his eyes and huffing a laugh to hide his deep, unending shame. 

“Not that bitch,” Kier barked, then collected himself, “her cousin. My ward. She remains under my eye and tutelage until she can secure a match on the marriage mart - a son of Autumn would be very suitable for a lady of her stature.” 

“We will see, Kier. Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how fast Rhysand answers your summons.” Eris drawled, hiding his panic at the tightening pain in his chest that was growing ever more dire. 

Kier squinted, narrowing his eyes in defiance but eventually folding, bowing to Eris in forced respect as he went to his office to summon his High Lord mind-to-mind. 

Azriel was in pain. In danger. And Rhysand had to know. 

It was all Eris could think of, and either moments or hours later, when an irate Rhysand stalked into Kier’s front room, it was all he said. 

“Azriel is in danger.” Eris said, and a glaring Rhysand’s eyes widened for just a moment before masking their shock quickly. 

A moment later, they were but smoke on the wind, reappearing deep in the halls of the House of Wind - in a lush but simple office. 

“Tell me everything,” Rhysand barked, stress bleeding into his voice as he sat down on the edge of the desk.

“All I know is something is very wrong. He is in pain somewhere, and you needed to know.” Eris huffed, looking around at the well furnished, lush and masculine room.

A hint of cedar flooded his nose. 

Azriel. 

“Do I need to ask why you know this before I do?” Rhysand asked quietly, looking Eris dead in the eyes. 

“Not if you already know the answer,” Eris replied, rising. 

Rhysand nodded, grimacing as he rubbed his jaw. 

“If we don’t find him by the meeting tomorrow, I will bring you from Dawn to come search for him with us. You may be able to follow the bond to his whereabouts, if I’m correct in my assumption here.” Rhysand said, barely whispering. 

Eris looked at him shrewdly, though that gaze was laced with a primal panic. He nodded his acquiescence and confirmation of Rhysand’s hunch. 

“Thank you, Rhysand.” Eris whispered back before winnowing back to the cold forest outside of his chambers in the Forest House.

“Of course. For what it’s worth, Eris, I’m sorry.” Rhysand said as he disappeared into smoke and time. 

The distance did nothing for the pain in his chest, but it did give him the vantage point to have one large realization - that was the first time that Rhysand had treated him with respect. 

[maxdurden]

🤯 Is there a scene of yours that just gave you a "mind blown" response? A plot detail that you absolutely love? Like you are so excited about it and it was so fun to get on page? / 👀 Any snippets you could share?

for the askk gamee :333

writer's asks!

🤯Is there a scene of yours that just gave you a "mind blown" response? A plot detail that you absolutely love? Like you are so excited about it and it was so fun to get on page?

ooh i had a lot of these moments when writing my kipperlilly one-shots. she just Makes Sense to me. but, i think the one plot detail that was very exciting to me in but slowly the instinct takes root in her throat was that porter was orchestrating it all. like, he's the one who tells jace to put kipperlilly on night watch with ruben, knowing damn well that she's just undergone this rage ritual and she hates him. like, he claims that her killing ruben pushed forward his plans, but he's the one waiting up for her; he's the one with a suspicious stock of shatter stars ready to go. but!! it's fun because to me porter's very cult leader coded, and once you've got a cult initiate pretty well invested, a good way to make sure they won't leave it to make them feel incredibly guilty--like no one outside of this group would understand them, like they're completely broken. and that's exactly what porter's doing in that one-shot (i would kill that man with my bare hands if only i had the chance).

👀 Any snippets you could share?

suuuuuurrreee i'll share a snippet from my current wip, which is a multichap durdawn fic that's haunting my every waking hour

“You know, I bet the kinds of people who go to Durden parties really need Helio.”  Buddy was gathering his things after a particularly exhausting training session in the Far Haven Woods. It was winter, which meant that despite their coats and gloves, all of the Rat Grinders were shivering by the end of it. Mr. Cliffbreaker had insisted that they stay late. Real adventurers die in pursuit of the kind of power I’m handing to you lot, and look at you sniveling about a bit of cold weather. Kipperlilly was in a foul mood afterward, or more foul than usual. As soon as Mr. Cliffbreaker dismissed them, she was gone. Mary Ann never stayed later than was absolutely necessary, either. But, Ivy and Oisin lingered.  “Durden parties?” Buddy’s head popped up from where he was bent over his bag.  Ivy was leaning against a nearby tree, inspecting a stain on her glove with a clear expression of distaste. She complained often about how they were expected to get their hands dirty. He wondered if she, too, was thinking about how on the nose it was to have her new winter gloves stained with blood. Then again, it was the blood of a monster which had been brought to them already unconscious.  “Yeah, you’ve never been?” Ivy asked and looked up. Her eyes were bright, like the eyes of an eagle zeroing in on its prey. The other members of Buddy’s party were misguided, hurt, and lost. Ivy looked this way when she was gearing up for a particularly cruel joke. He didn’t blame her for them. It was sad that she felt like she had to guard herself with meanness like she did. “I guess they don’t happen too often anymore, but I thought you and Max were friends.”

[bunji-enthusiast]

Sorry if I’m sending so many requests but I love your writing style😭how are you doing?

Do you mind if I ask you to write something about the reader helping King with Diane, please? <3

No worries! Did a mix of scenes and headcanons. This one is adorable, I hope you like this. 🌷

The tension was unbearable, you could see the way King was looking at Diane. Only someone who loves someone else in such a way, could love shine in their eyes that way, unadulterated pure adoration. You almost felt sorry for the Fairy King, he needed some serious help in the love department.

"King, you are disgustingly in love." You retort, sitting down next to where he was floating. He snaps back to reality with a furious blush blooming across his face.

"N-no! Why are you saying that?" He shouts, almost. Though the fairy quickly tones down his shouting as he continues, "I don't think that's something you should say so suddenly."

You hum with a shrug, you simply couldn't care less if you were entirely blunt with your words. "True, but I'm only saying the truth." You remarked, pointing at the one of his affection. Diane was talking to Elizabeth, it was some type of girl talk between the princess and the giantess.

King huffs, holding his sacred treasure close to his body. He was lazing about in a way that was normal for him, yet he half-heartedly hides his blush. "So what?" He admits, almost sounding defeated which you winced at the tone of his voice.

"So.." You say, the plan you had formulated in your mind way before you started talking to King came rushing back to mind. "I'm gonna help you!"

He perks up, eyebrow raised and all as his expression is one of clear confusion. "How do you plan to.. help me?" He asks, and you smile, almost mischievously. You had a clear plan, and you wanted to make sure nothing went wrong here.

You began speaking very clearly of your plan to orchestrate a one on one meeting just between him and Diane, just so he can finally admit his feelings loud and clear to the giantess. King was surprised, and listened very intently to your words. Yet it was in knowing you that you were bound to make this embarrassing in one way or another to make this happen.

King had told you about his promise to Diane that he made around 500 years ago, that he promised her that he would stay by her side and love her forever. He confided in you very deeply, as he trusted you better then the other sins, he had to get this off his chest somehow.

It was in knowing this you had better formulated your plan to help King with Diane, you loved the idea of the two of them being together. The two were sincerely already so adorable as a pair!

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

King was not ready to do this, nervous bit at every inch of his body. The fairy was not liking how this was gonna go already. You smiled, just patting his back to urge him to go to Diane, who was waiting for King.

"Of course!" You replied, patting his back again to reaffirm the idea. You tilted your head to look at him more clearly as you presented with a very scheming smile on your face, "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

His face falters, but he sighs in relenting defeat. "I guess not."

"Good, now go!"

He yelps, "AH!-"

Finally King comes to Diane, the meeting spot was beautiful but nonetheless secluded and away from publicity. You watched with great excitement as the two greet each other, you could clearly tell that King was shaking with trepidation.

You couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but you could make out some words by the shape of their mouths. Suddenly you could see Diane blushing, and appearing to admit her feelings for King in return.

Success! HAHA!

You suddenly fell down from where you were hiding, causing the two to look at the source of the noise. King is almost somewhat surprised and both annoyed that the moment was ruined, but he helped you up. So did Diane, as she was worried that you were injured.

King admitted to Diane that you helped him with the whole thing, and Diane smiles. She wasn't entirely sure how to react, but she was happy nonetheless.

"So you two are finally together right? CAUSE GOOD GRIEF YOU TWO ARE INSUFFERABLE."

[55ludovicoplace]

Highly recommend this article. It is literally. Everything is so much worse even than it already seemed. This is to the construction of the sub what the Smithsonian article was to Rush's personality. Like it just puts it all out there. This is beyond horrible. "Concern" really did not accurately describe it it's more like being tied to a chair helpless to stop a guy from attempting a rocket jump in front of you.

Parts that stood out to me the most: staff were in their 20s and even teens(!!!!!) being paid $15/hr (for where they were based, far below livable); PH Nargeolet, the "content expert" (tour guide), may well have been suicidal or at least ready to die; construction materials included zip ties; Rush thought it was okay that the hull crackled when pressurized; the former employee Lochridge was told to withdraw his whistleblower claim and pay the company for legal fees under threat of having his reputation ruined and being deported and was accused of 'orchestrating his own firing'; immediately after he left Rush went to a random accountant and asked her if she wanted to take over piloting the sub; the fucking moron thought he would be fine if the viewport started to fail because he would just see that it was failing, with his eyes, and drop weights, and that would be fine. Because that's how deep sea submersible safety works. Holy shit. Every paragraph is a new adventure into the most jokerous thing you think you've ever heard and then you read the next one and it's even worse.

I feel like calling this an 'accident' is really generous - I heard OceanGate get compared to ValuJet a bit ago but it's less that and more Action Park. ValuJet at least flew functional airplanes. This is the fucking perfectly circular water slide. You know. The sort of thing a child can tell at a glance is obviously going to kill someone. This is the child annihilating zipline that has a nearly 150 foot drop because it's designed by a group of people including zero engineers. The Titan was literally constructed to Christmas Bullet standards. For those unaware the Bullet was a very early model of "airplane" designed to have wings with no bracing which of course immediately peeled off and killed the pilot because that's why you make wings with bracing. It's a bit like going check out my super innovative skyscraper! It is innovative because it is built out of fucking papier-mâché! This is a great idea and you are all just not ready for it.

Really incredible quote from emails transcribed in the article:

He added that he was afraid of retaliation from Rush—“We both know he has influence and money”—but would share his assessment with McCallum, in private: “That sub is Not safe to dive.” “Do you think the sub could be made safe to dive, or is it a complete lemon?” McCallum replied. “You will get a lot of support from people in the industry . . . . everyone is watching and waiting and quietly shitting their pants.” “It’s a lemon.” “Oh dear,” McCallum replied. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

Everyone. Is watching and waiting. And quietly shitting their pants.

What a way to put it.