#And comes back in the future as a changed man

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

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user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

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charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

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user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[hyper-fixates]

Visions of a Life

Old Man!Logan x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 5.7k

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), established relationship, mutant!reader, not canon-compliant, fluff, domesticity, explicit language, dry humping, brief unprotected sex, angst (and i’m not joking), soft!logan, groping, a few uses of “baby”, mentions & allusions to death (no one dies tho), descriptions of blood (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: What does an animal do when he’s sick? He goes away to die.

Notes: this was supposed to take a different route, but it just didn’t feel right as i went along…forgive me for being a bit of a LIAR 🙃

The dry Texas heat faded with each kilometre you travelled. The desert slowly turned into rangelands, and the rangelands eventually became the frozen, snow-covered ground of Alberta. 

The trip was only a couple days, and the stark change in weather almost made your bones nearly seize and shatter when you stepped out of the truck and were met with the sharp winter wind. 

The cold definitely made Logan’s bones ache more than they already do. 

Not even his red flannel and jean jacket can offset the negative temperature in the slightest. 

“Hm…wow. Cute,” you say in succession, taking a few slow steps toward the quaint cabin. 

It’s all dark, smooth wood that stands out amongst the bare, white birch trees and blue spruces that are covered in a light dusting of this morning’s snow.

The second thing you notice is the quiet. 

It’s so quiet. No neighbours, no highways—just silence, and the slight rustling of the wind through the tree branches. 

You’re deep in the bush, a spot near the south-west border that gives a partial view of the Rockies.

“Grab your bag,” Logan says as he shuts his door, the sound cutting violently through the still air. 

It’s almost eerily quiet. No chirping birds, no chittering squirrels, no howling wolves in the distance. Just you and Logan. Isolated. 

It’s everything he’s been yearning for since living in Mexico and spending more than enough time working in El Paso. 

It’s what he’s been missing desperately ever since living down south—Alberta—his real home. Yet it’s a place that holds no significance to you.

“Yes, sir,” you remark with a lazy, mocking salute of your hand, smirking at how Logan glares at you harmlessly as he walks by you to the cabin.

Logan decided it’s time. Time to come back. Time to be realistic about your future, or lack of, together.

He decided that he’s done fighting himself, and that there’s nothing left for either of you in Mexico even if it’s all you’ve come to know. 

He refused to let himself die in the desert and leave you with nothing but sand. There was no comfort there. No semblance of a promise.

The light snow crunches under your steps back to the truck, your breath swirling in small clouds around you. You yank your bag out from the backseat and slam the door as Logan did, hearing the sound echo into the wind before dissipating into nothing. 

If you focused heard enough, you could probably hear your heartbeat. That’s how silent it is.

“Creepy,” you mumble to yourself as you follow the imprints of Logan’s footsteps back to the cabin.

You go up the few rickety stairs, stomping your shoes clean on the equally rickety deck, and open the squeaky door. 

It’s definitely not a space that’s meant for more than two people.

It’s one level, open concept, and surely not heated by a furnace. The living room is directly to the left—you’re basically already standing in it—and a small kitchen is off to the right. The single bedroom straight ahead is the only room besides the bathroom that’s hidden behind walls and a door. 

And that’s it. Simple. Efficient. No walls, no doors, save for the bedroom and bathroom. It’s surprisingly intimate. 

“Please tell me there’s heat,” you lament, watching Logan dust off the few surfaces of fixtures and furniture as you toe off your wet shoes. 

Logan gives you a look. “There’s a fireplace.” He gestures to the barren, ash-filled pit that sits at the bottom of the chimney in the corner of the room. 

Above it, a mantle with a little T.V. “Cable?” You wonder aloud. This place is already more luxurious than what you had in Mexico, but at least in Mexico you didn’t have to worry about freezing to death in your sleep.

Logan limps along to the bedroom with his bag. “Satellite.” 

You suck your tongue against your teeth, following Logan to the bedroom. When you step through the doorway, you almost cackle. 

“Oh for fucks sake. We are never gonna fucking fit on that, Logan. Oh my God,” you moan in disbelief at the size of the bed. “You’re probably not even gonna fit on it.” Your voice pitches a little in exasperation. 

The mattress was maybe a twin. Maybe. It’s propped up on a thin metal frame that creaks and groans as you experimentally lean forward on your hands and bear some weight on it. 

“I do.” He tosses both your bags on the outdated armchair in the corner of the room. 

Your entire lives are in those bags. You only brought what you needed and what could fit. There wasn’t much to bring along from Mexico besides clothes and the necessary toiletries anyway. Anything else can be found and replaced back in town if needed.

He steps back to the bed next to you. “Relax. There’s always the couch,” he points out. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

You have never slept apart—he knows that—and that’s definitely not going to start now. This time is precious. 

You briefly recall the worn couch sitting in the middle of the living room in front of the fireplace: it’s a brown and red plaid pattern, probably from the 80s, and four cushions long. 

This cabin was stuck in time just as much as Logan likes to say he is.

“Help me grab some wood to get a fire going,” he says, giving the top of your head a chaste kiss. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.” He slips past you out the doorway, the warm, lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a shiver through your body. 

You saw a decent stack of pre-cut logs piled in the other corner of the living room when you came in, and you wonder who’s been taking care of things here while Logan’s been down south. 

The wood looked fresh, but the dust on the coffee table and window ledges suggests no one’s been here for months.

You figure that dust is the least of Logan’s worries right now.

━━━━

The fire crackles and pops softly, the bright light from the T.V. illuminating the dark room as you comfortably watch the Flames game horizontally—on Logan—from the outdated couch. 

The warmth from the flickering orange blaze in the chimney blankets you both, almost trying to melt you together like wax.

Logan lies on his back, legs spread to accommodate your body as you lay stomach-to-stomach, using his chest as a pillow while he uses the well-worn armrest as his. 

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 2-2. You can feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep even though the analog bird clock hung next to the T.V. shows it’s barely 11 p.m. 

You know Logan isn’t asleep because he’s tracing a finger slowly up and down your spine. That’s what’s putting you to sleep, but the obnoxious ads pull you back into consciousness when the game cuts to commercial each time. 

Despite the volume of the T.V., you can still hear the rattling in Logan’s lungs with each breath he takes. 

The ear that’s pressed against his chest picks it up easily; it’s otherwise undetectable if you aren’t right up against him. 

You don’t want to forget that this isn’t, in fact, a fun little vacation that you’ll both return to Mexico from. This is where Logan will spend the rest of his days with you. There is no going back to Mexico, no future anywhere but here within these walls. 

Logan will die here. Like he wants to—at home, with you, surrounded by snow.

“Are you tired?” You say quietly. Your eyes aren’t even open as you ask.

A small chuckle makes your head vibrate. “I’m always tired,” he rasps, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest against your ear.

“Want me to put you to sleep?” You offer, thumbing the material of his flannel, eyes still closed.

He shifts, adjusting his neck. “No. I’m fine,” he explains, and you’re curious to see if he will fall asleep as easy as you can make him.

All it takes is a touch of a finger and a whispered command for him to slip into near unbreakable unconsciousness that lasts throughout the night. 

You hum. “If you need it, just wake me if I’m asleep,” you reassure. 

Almost every night in Mexico you’d knock him out cold, only you didn’t have to use a punch to do so. The press of your finger against his temple was enough. If he was in better health maybe it would take a bit more concentration and demanding, but it’s quick, nearly effortless.

Somnous is all you need to say—sleep. And his body can’t resist the surge of the pseudo-sedative that comes from within you.

━━━━

A chill that you’ve never felt before wakes you. It’s one that can only come with negative temperatures seeping back into the cabin.

Your body tenses and you peel your eyes open. The faint glow of red coals pulsing in front of you quickly tells you that no one made it off the couch last night, that no one slept on that sad excuse of a bed in the next room.

You and Logan are right where you left each other.

Logan breathes steadily under you, that rattling in his lungs still present even in sleep. It never wavers. It will never go away.

You try to carefully peel yourself off of him, stifling a groan as your limbs stretch and twist for the first time in hours. The tightness in your shoulders makes you clench your teeth. 

A few pops and cracks release from your joints, and then you’re free from Logan’s warmth. From the looks of it, he seems comfortable, but you know he’s going to complain about his back and neck as soon as he wakes up.

Thankfully, you’ll help him with that, just like his sleep. Just like you do with everything else. 

Remedium, you’ll mutter as your fingers trace along his temple. Relief.  

You can fix the superficial—a sore neck, a headache—but you can’t fix something that’s as embedded and chronic as what’s killing him.

You’re the cure. The cure for everything except whatever is festering inside him. He says it’s the adamantium, that it’s poisoning him, but you can’t say for sure. 

The early morning sun, all pinks and oranges, shines brightly through the large windows around the cabin. Then you see the snow falling.

You tip-toe to the window across from the couch. It’s been snowing since 3 a.m., but you weren’t awake to see it start.

Thick, fluffy snowflakes wisp around in the light wind and you lean closer to the window to get a better look at the scene outside.

You arrived late in the afternoon yesterday, missing the morning snow that blanketed the ground and decorated the trees.

Logan’s seen many winters come and go, and you’ll see just as many after he’s gone. Well, maybe not as many.

A deep groan fills your ears. “Ah—fuck,” Logan growls, pulling himself to sit up from the couch.

You skip excitedly over to him, bending down to cradle his head in your hands and press your thumbs against each temple, your lips meeting the top of his head in a brief kiss.

“Remedium,” you whisper into his hair, and he makes a satisfied sound in response as his body adjusts and fixes itself.

You move down to kiss his forehead, ruffling a hand through his bushy grey hair before pulling away and going back to the window to watch the snow spiral and churn in random shapes and patterns.  

A grumbled “thanks” is heard over your footsteps. He’s probably not even fully awake yet. 

“Look at the snow. Look,” you say in awe when you hear him shuffling along the creaky floor behind you.

It doesn’t look like anything special to Logan. He’s seen every type of snow, every type of storm Alberta has to throw his way; however, this may be the most mundane snowfall he’s seen that he can remember.

“What about it?” He says. He doesn’t know what’s got you so excitable. 

You look at him over your shoulder. “I’ve never seen a snowfall before,” you explain. “The snowflakes are so fat,” you chuckle as he comes to rest a hand on your lower back, peeking through the window over your shoulder at the snow dancing in the wind.

“Mhm, it’s nice.” He still doesn’t get it. “Go get ready. There’s more wood coming in a bit,” he dismisses with a gentle kiss to your cheek, dense beard poking into the plush skin.

He goes to the bedroom. You should follow, but you keep watching the snow.

In the moment, you don’t realize that while this is your first snowfall, it’s probably Logan’s last.

━━━━

The man who brings the firewood is also the one who’s been “looking after” the cabin for Logan.

They’ve known each other for years, decades, and the man has been doing monthly check-in’s despite Logan not even being in the country.

Logan muttered something about cage fighting, explaining how he knows the man and the bar he owns in town.

You make a face, one filled with curiosity and confusion. “Cage fighting?”

“It was a long time ago,” he defends, tossing the last logs onto the now vast pile in the living room. You now understand why the room is as big as it is.

“Still keeping secrets, huh?” You joke, wiping your hands on your sweater.

A new fire burns strong in the chimney, preparing the cabin for the wind storm that’s meant to hit in a few hours.

“It’s not important.” Logan unbuttons his flannel—today it’s a dark red one; truly Canadian—and strips to his white tank-top underneath. 

It’s almost jarring to see him in anything other than a white dress shirt and blazer.

He throws the flannel on the back of the couch, overheated from the fire and throwing logs. A vicious cough catches in his throat for an exhale or two before it finds its way out.

“You okay?” You ask calmly, walking up to him and rubbing a hand up and down his bicep. His skin clammy and damp from sweat.

“I’m fine.” Another aggressive cough. “I’m fine,” he emphasizes, mostly to reassure himself.

You both know he’s not okay. That’s why you’re here, after all. But you can’t stop yourself from asking.

━━━━

The wind storm knocked out the power.

The raging fire will probably be your only source of light for the rest of the night and into the morning.  

So, without power, there’s not much to do. But, you and Logan sit on the floor with him resting against the front of the couch. You sit between his legs, feeling the heat of him on your back while you watch his arms reach over and around you to set various sized coins on the coffee table to entertain—and educate, as he would say—you.

“That one’s so big,” you point out, reaching for the gold coin. 

Logan wants to make a joke so badly, but he settles for a small smile at what little he can see of your perplexed expression from the side, resting his chin on your shoulder every couple minutes and occasionally pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw just to remind himself you’re actually here.

You pick up the gold coin and turn it over in between your fingers, watching it shine in the firelight. 

The bird on the face of the coin is unfamiliar, and it’s dated “2000” on the back below the Queen’s face. 

“It’s a loon,” Logan clarifies. “One dollar.”

“It’s pretty.” 

“We call it a ‘loonie’,” he explains, “and this is a toonie.” He picks up the other large coin, one that’s silver with a gold center. 

You take it from him. “A polar bear?” You observe the face of the coin. “There’s polar bears in Canada?” You turn your attention to him, nose almost grazing his.

“You…didn’t know that?”

“Why would I know that?” 

Logan chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. “Well. It’s where most of the population lives,” he defends, his hazel eyes almost looking as confused as yours.

“Good to know,” you mutter, placing the coin back on the table.

He shakes his head. “Quarter, nickel, penny, dime.” Logan identifies the rest of the coins for you, pointing to each from biggest to smallest.

“The dimes are cute.” You push the thin, silver coin around on the table.

His tattered wallet sits on the corner by your arm, and something peeks out from the bill slot that you paid no mind to before. 

“You have Canadian bills?” You ask as you pinch the thing between your thumb and forefinger, snatching it before he could answer or stop you.

You unfold the worn thing with ease, holding it with both hands and expecting to see a historic figure or a bold number printed somewhere, but there’s neither.

The paper is a little thicker than a bank note yet it’s almost the same size, but it has Logan with a young girl plastered on it in black and white.

An old photo, folded up and kept in his wallet as a reminder of something, or someone.

“Who’s that?” You question, analyzing the picture with a seizing heart.

Logan doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t move to take the picture from your hands. 

It’s him, decades younger, giving the young girl a piggyback. An uncharacteristic smile on his face that you’ve never seen before while the girl peeks her head out beside his for the photo. 

“Marie. She was a kid I, uh, helped, I guess.” The deep timbre of his voice is enough to tell you that he’s suddenly forlorn. “One of Charles’ students.”

“You’re so…young,” you consider quietly, eyes filling with adoration and fondness at the boyish Wolverine in your hand. 

You never knew what Logan looked like in his younger years, and it never occurred to you to be curious about that. You’ve grown so used to your Logan that nothing before all this mattered much to you.

Still, there was someone else who got to experience the younger, more spirited version of Logan that only exists in pictures now, and you long to have been that lucky someone just to be able to have had more time with him. 

But this is your Logan; scarred, aching, dying. This Logan was meant to be yours. 

The Logan that stares at you from the wrinkled picture is barely recognizable against the one behind you, yet he’s still somehow the same. It’s like seeing a ghost after saying you don’t believe in them: you don’t really know how to explain it.

“And your hair is…” You squint at the photo, as if that will help you to find the right word to describe the quaffed points peaking from his head.

“Fucking ridiculous?” He finishes. 

You laugh. “Well, I was maybe gonna say majestic. Or even sublime,” you correct. 

The photo is creased along the edges and down the middle from being continuously opened and refolded, and you wonder how old it is—if it’s older than you.

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” he exhales, stealing the photo from your fingers and folding it back up, making sure to bury it completely back in the wallet this time.

“Where is she now?” You know you shouldn’t ask but the curiosity is clawing at you. What you know of Logan’s past is extremely limited, but there’s a reason for that. You’re hoping he can at least give you this.

Logan’s shoulders grow taut. He debates lying, but he doesn’t. “Dead.”

━━━━

“Logan?”

No answer.

“Logan,” you say more firmly.

No answer.

“James,” you throw at him, watching his head quirk to meet your voice. 

“What?” He barks, quickly averting his attention back to whatever holds his attention in his lap.

You hesitate in the bedroom doorway, afraid of what you might see if you take another step, but you already know what it’s going to be. It was only a matter of time before Logan fell back into himself.

Logan sits on the creaky, old bed with his back to you, a tremble in his shoulders that no one else besides you would notice. He hates that you notice.

You lightly tiptoe around the bed and drop into a squat between his legs, resting a hand on his knee.

Three adamantium claws occupy the space between you, blood slowly dripping from his knuckles and staining the wood floor. His eyes stay on the claws, but you keep your gaze on his face anyway.

His fist shakes, either from the pain of pulling his claws out or the atrophying muscles.

“There’s no reason to keep doing that…that’s not what we came here for,” you gently scold, watching him take a shaky breath while you try to control your own.

You came here to escape the pain, even if you’ll inevitably face something far worse down the road.

He does this when he feels helpless. You don’t know what it achieves, but he seems to believe it does something other than marring his skin even more and making his forearm burn with white-hot pain from metal sliding against his aged tendons and ligaments.

“Put them away. Please,” you encourage, squeezing his knee comfortingly.

Logan closes his eyes. He doesn’t nod or say anything as the claws retract back into his skin, albeit at a snails pace. You worry that one day they’ll just get stuck in or out forever.

You can’t influence his body to physically repair itself or heal faster—you can only provide a barrier to the pain while it subsides on its own.

You stand, hand reaching for his temple to whisper the magic word like always, but Logan’s bloodied fingers wrap around your wrist.

His eyes finally meet yours. “No. Leave it,” he dismisses, sliding his hand up into yours and smearing the warm blood between your joined palms and linked fingers.

It’s futile to argue against him, so you let him have this; the pain he hasn’t been able to shake for years, the pain you can’t entirely stifle and fade, the pain he would never wish upon anyone, the pain he will only escape in death.

━━━━

“I can let you go,” you cry softly. 

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger when he feels your hot tears fall against his bare chest one after the other. 

It’s one of those mornings—where everything just hits you out of nowhere. One of those times where reality has set in. 

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows there’s nothing he can say to comfort you. He will die. And nothing can change that.

You lie on him, your cheek to the middle of his chest, unable to stop the silent, persistent tears.

The rickety bed, in fact, holds both of you, and a soft cotton blanket does little to save you from the frigid morning air that has snuck into the cabin yet again.

“I can’t do it,” you whimper quietly, shaking your head against him. “I can’t.”

He wraps both arms around you tightly, squeezing around your shoulders so snuggly that your lips form one of those sad, downturned smiles you make when you’re overwhelmed—happy or sad. 

“We don’t really have a choice, baby,” he mutters against your head. 

A gentle finger traces along the textured, angry scars over his bicep. There’s one that’s older, almost entirely white from the trauma to the skin. A small, round one sits directly above it—most likely from a bullet—and you know it’s more recent from how raised and pink it is.

It feels wrong to have Logan comforting you over his death when it’s him who will be the one dying, but he hasn’t shown any panic or sadness over it.

He’s ready to die. For some reason, that hurts you more.

Maybe he will make it long enough to see the first flowers of spring; those that are strong enough to brave the Canadian frost. 

Maybe, somehow, he will get better. Heal himself from the inside out. 

Maybe he won’t end up buried underneath the birch trees.

━━━━

You both barely left the bed today.

You let each other mourn, and Logan didn’t protest. He let you take the time to process what you were feeling. It felt good for him, too.

He reluctantly had to get out of bed to stoke the fire a few times, and now he’s gone to do so again before you call it a night. An early night. You’re worn out. From crying, from feeling, from everything.

The wind has picked up again, howling and whipping harshly against the cabin. It’s supposed to snow in a few hours, but you don’t feel excited for it like you did a few days ago.

“That should burn all night,” Logan says as he comes back in the room.

You shuffle over on the bed for him. You don’t really fit, but you make it work by half-lying on each other. Either your upper body lays on his chest or his upper body has you almost tucked underneath him while he spoons you.

“Thank you,” you murmur with your eyes already closed, ready to forget about today.

The bed frame groans as Logan shuffles in beside you, slipping an arm around your midsection to pull you to tight against him. 

Despite the cold, and the fact that you both should definitely be wearing fleece pyjamas or something, you’re both almost entirely bare. It’s just habit. You usually opt to wear one of his tank tops while he just keeps his briefs. It’s familiar. It’s comforting. The skin-to-skin reminds you both that you’re real.

Tonight, however, you chose his white t-shirt. As if that will do you any better. Logan runs fairly hot on his own, so you ultimately trust him to keep you warm either way.

He nestles into you, curling his body around yours. He slots a leg between your own and situates you so that your ass is pressed against his front. You know it doesn’t mean what you think it does, but you can’t help yourself from jokingly wiggling back and forth against him a few times just for fun—just to lighten the solemn mood.

Logan kisses your shoulder, the hand around your midsection squeezing the flesh of your stomach through the shirt affectionately while pushing you tighter against him. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep,” he dismisses. He knows you’re just fucking with him.

You giggle quietly, interlacing your fingers with the ones he has against your stomach and turning to look over your shoulder at him. “Love you.”

His face softens. “Love you.” 

You pucker your lips dramatically. He gives you an eager kiss, placing small pecks gently down along your cheek and jaw when you break away to smile. 

Logan will never deny you of his attention when you ask for it. 

━━━━

Something pushes you out of a heavy sleep. You figure it was maybe the wind or a dream, but you feel it again. Something literally pushes you.

You blink a few times, trying to wake yourself up. Logan’s arm is still thrown around you, but it’s now fallen down over your hip. The weight of it keeps you in place.

Another push. 

Logan’s hips shove against your ass. You furrow your brows. 

You know he’s sleeping without needing to look or ask, so what the fuck is he doing—

A more delicate thrust rolls against you this time, then you realize. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” you sigh.

“Logan.” You poke his thigh. No response.

“Logan,” you growl, reaching back and pushing a hand against his firm stomach to shake him a bit.

A series of grunts and groans are his response. He pulls back from you a little, hand tightening against your hip.

“Mm. What?” He mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Stop trying to fuck me in your sleep,” you hiss through a breath, repositioning yourself against him.

“I’m not,” he says, nuzzling up to your back and ass again, half-asleep.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yes, you are,” you counter.

It’s probably just some sex dream that got him a little too excited. The thought makes you smile. 

It has, in fact, been longer than usual since you’ve fucked, the last time being in the truck when you pulled over at a rest stop in Montana, and you wonder if he’s starting to feel the effects of that. 

By the time you reached Montana, you were both antsy and restless. The days, and even nights, were naturally spent just sitting in the truck for hours on end with nothing to do—no way to stimulate or tire your bodies.

The final night in the state was the breaking point. You had unburned, pent-up energy and cramping muscles that needed to be worn out if you wanted to survive the last day on the road before you got to the border.

So you pulled over and fucked in the passenger seat. 

Logan let you bounce on his cock until the lactic acid in your thighs made you cry out in pain and you physically couldn’t ride him anymore.

He made you drag it out—for both of your sakes. He wanted your hearts to pump hard and your lungs to sting with each inhale. He wanted your bodies to be fucked into a state of relaxation afterwards.

So, he didn’t help you ride him like he usually does. He didn’t help guide you by your hips up and down his cock. He let you do it all by yourself while he licked and sucked over your collarbones and teased your clit with his fingers.

You both came hard, laughing at the fogged-up windows while cleaning yourselves up with those rough, brown napkins everyone has in their glove compartment for some reason.

Then you continued on, satisfied.

All of this has kind of thrown off your sense of normality. Sex went with that. It’s hard to be horny when you’re sad all the time.

You suppose you don’t need to wonder if he’s feeling the effects of no sex because you’re feeling them for him; his hard cock rests in his briefs against your ass, and you debate doing something you know you’re gonna do anyway.

Just like earlier, you circle your ass over him lightly, hopefully just enough for some payback for waking you up. You assume he’ll tell you to knock it off.

“Baby,” he mutters against the back of your neck tiredly, and you can tell he’s in need of a release.

You smirk. “Hm?” You rub harder over him.

He subtly joins in with your movements, rocking in time with you. His cock feels warm and heavy against your ass.

“Good dream?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice. 

Logan grabs at the meat of your thigh, measuring his thrusts. “It’s…been a while,” he deflects, but you know that just means he’s in need of an orgasm.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize, swallowing a gasp as he ruts harder. 

“Not your fault,” he breathes, too preoccupied with kissing your neck softly. His beard tickles you, grazing against the slope of your neck with each kiss he drags over it.

His broad, warm chest keeps you from drifting off too far. Your cunt pulses and aches from the tease of his cock, undoubtedly soaking your underwear as he rubs along the space that’s just shy of your cunt. This is somehow more erotic than if he was actually fucking himself over your pussy between your thighs.

The bed creaks with his shifting weight, filling the silence in the room as the wind still beats against the cabin.

It’s never mindless, chaotic sex with Logan. Technically, this isn’t even sex. 

He always gave you an appropriate fucking. Not too much, not too little. It was always just exactly what you both needed at the time of doing it. This feels no different.

You can feel your underwear sticking to you—it no longer slides with his desperate movements. You’d be content with finishing whatever way Logan wants. These days, you take what you can get.

“Too tired.” For sex, he means. “Just wanna feel you.” He caresses his hand along your thigh appreciatively. 

You grab his wandering hand. “That’s okay,” you soothe.

His hips have slowed to a gentle rock, intent on taking a bit of the edge off without wanting to fully commit to chasing an orgasm and needing a clean-up. 

Logan isn’t really one to drop everything for sex. Maybe he was like that at some point, but that’s not who he is now. 

He’ll gladly blue-ball himself for some sleep. He knows you’re not going anywhere.

You let him feel you up for a bit, and his movements stop altogether after a few gropes to your chest and thighs—purposefully avoiding anything directly below your bellybutton. 

He rests behind you tightly, pelvis somehow closer than before. You still throb a little, but the warmth from Logan gradually pulls you back to a state of exhaustion.  

━━━━

It’s never been lost on you that you are the only one to have experienced a full, complete relationship with Logan. 

You didn’t die, or get killed. You didn’t leave him or grow old. You are the only one to have this moment. The seemingly immortal Wolverine has someone at the end of his life when he thought he never would. 

He never expected to be the one to go first. It was always the other way around. That’s how it was always supposed to be. 

Yet, there is a spot slowly thawing for him underneath the white birch trees.

here’s the photo reader pulled out of logan’s wallet <3

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 a collection of rafe cameron x the other woman! reader tales.

She lies back in her empty bed, already planning their future together. After tonight, everything will change—she's sure of it. He'll leave his wife, move in with her, and they'll finally have their happily ever after. That's how love stories work, right? At least, that's how this one will end—she's absolutely certain of it.

(Narrator: She was wrong.)

۶ৎ he loves me, he loves his wife | (18+) | -- rafe says “he's done” with mistress reader.

۶ৎ he'll come back, rafe always does | (18+) | -- rafe is a married man, but that doesn't seem to stop him from relentlessly satisfying his carnal desires with you.

۶ৎ who do you love? | (18+) | -- girly pop goes bonkers and films a surprise video for Rafe and his wife's anniversary.

[margotw10bis]

Friendly Marriage.JJK Drabble 2

bestfriend!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: drabble; fluff (non-idol Jungkook)

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: You accompany your best friend for his first tattoo because, well, he can't take an important step in his life without you.

"Precious and Inked" drabble from Friendly Marriage (this takes place before the main story)

You clearly remember when Jungkook’s appeal for tattoos appeared. You were six and it was summer. It was a hot day, almost unbreathable which spurred your parents to drive to the beach, willing to enjoy the faint breeze from the sea. 

Obviously, you weren’t the only ones seeking to cool down and the beach was full. But as your parents were settling your stuff, Jungkook grabbed your hand and urged you to go near the salty water to play with the wet sand. It’s when your best friend saw him. The man was about twenty year old and he had a confidence that made people looked at him with curiosity — or envy. Moreover, his black swimsuit allowed the crowd to have a full view on his numerous tattoos, something that was quite rare to witness in Korea at the time. His torso, arms and back had some ink patterns here and there, without a real coherence but the whole was harmonious. 

Jungkook’s doe eyes grew bigger than normal and a whispered ‘wow’ escaped his lips. It wasn’t too hard to notice his admiration and the fact was confirmed by the uncountable times he talked to you about ‘the cool drawings’ the following days. Annoyed by his sudden lack of attention to your sand construction, you slammed his arm and yelled at him to focus.

And thirteen years later, here you are.

You should have known your best friend enough to know that he would, one day, get a tattoo on his own. Somewhat you hoped he’d wait a little longer as an unconscious fear — of this decoration on his body changing his personality — has been growing bigger and bigger even since he share the date of his appointment.

“You know that your mom is going to kill you, right?”

Your remark provokes a laugh from your best friend. You know that there is no point in trying to convince him right now, as Jungkook has been bawling about getting a tattoo for months, strategically waiting for his nineteenth birthday to finally put ink on his skin. It’s not that you don’t think he hasn’t thought seriously about it but you know him: sometimes, he tends to make decision too quickly and you’re afraid he’ll regret. 

“With the look in your eyes, I feel like it’s you who’s going to kill me” He teases you, his wide bunny smile on his adorable face 

You sigh as you don’t understand how chill he is about such a big commitment while you, a mere witness, are stressing. A lot. 

“Kook”

“I know, I know” He reassures you — just like he is able to read your mind — and wraps his arm around your shoulders “I swear I’m not going to change my mind. And it’s just a tiny tattoo, I’ll stop after that”

You both know that he won’t — and the future will give you right. You throw him a doubtful glance but how can you resist his cute pout? You cannot. And Jungkook knows it way too well. 

You don’t have time to argue as the tattoo artist steps in the small and dark room you’ve been waiting. He calls out your best friend’s name and a single look at him tells you how excited he is. Just to see him as happy makes all your worries vanish and in one second, you don’t care if Jungkook decides to cover his whole body with black ink if it means he’ll get to smile like that. 

“You wanna come with me?” He offers right before entering the room at the back

You hesitate but finally accept in case Jungkook would like to squeeze your hand if the pain is too much. Yet, you regret when you move the black curtain away and discover a dark room filled with a chair similar to the one in medical centers, a small stool with wheels and a table full of small cup of inks — black, blue, red, pink and every other colors. The walls are covered with sketches and the skull ones are terrifying, sending shivers down your spine. 

“You want one?” The tattoo artist asks you when he notices you are looking at his art pieces 

You have no problem admitting his talent, yet you absolutely don’t want a skull on your skin! You are quick to shake your head and take place next to your best friend who has taken off his shirt. You are trying your best not to look at his defined torso, not that you haven’t seen it already anyway given your numerous afternoons at the beach but Jungkook has been hitting the gym very diligently lately and well… he is hot — and this is a thought that you should absolutely not have about your best friend so you choose to focus on the material the tattoo artist is preparing. 

Jungkook and the tattoo artist talk for a while, trying to find the right spot and size for the tattoo and they finally settle for the junction between the shoulder and the biceps. With that, Jungkook is pleased to lay down. 

“Are you okay?” He asks and you suddenly feel stupid: you should be the one asking 

“Are you?” You reply 

“Yep!” He exclaims, offering you one of his reassuring smiles 

The tattoo artist informs your best friend that he is going to start and the buzz sound of the machine fills the room. You are watching with attention his movements, trying to detect any unusual thing — just like you knew anything about tattoos. You just want to take care of Jungkook, he is your best friend, that’s normal. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care at all about the needle in his skin. He is looking at you with an amused smile, especially when you wince as the tattoo artist stretch out a spot to apply more ink.

“Can I hold your hand?” Jungkook asks you

You immediately squeeze his fingers, worried that he is in pain. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” You can’t help but question 

“Yes”

Your heart tightens in your chest. However, Jungkook is not in pain at all — he only feels a mere tickling on his skin. He can’t even explain why he lied. He simply noticed that he has looked for any opportunity to hold your hand lately. Maybe it’s just because he is stressed about leaving Busan to head to the capital with you, afraid that something will change between you two, that you won’t be as close as before even if you attend the same university. 

You bring Jungkook out of his thoughts when you gently pat his head, trying to soothe the imaginary pain away. 

“I swear I won’t tell anyone if you cry” You whisper to him, deadly serious

If Jungkook didn’t want to expose his lie, he would have scoffed to that. Instead, he nods and thanks you. Actually, his gratitude is real: he does feel lucky to have you by his side. He knows that you are always here for him, even when he is in trouble. And most importantly, you are always here when he faces a new important step in his life. 

You stay for a few hours next to him, holding his hand, caressing his head from time to time when you notice that the tattoo artist insists on one particular spot. What you don’t notice is that your best friend has not once looked at the tattoo artist: his eyes were left on you. He can’t explain — neither does he want to. He just wants to appreciate your presence next to him while he is taking such a big decision as marking his skin for life. 

Turning off the machine, the tattoo artist states that he is done and he invites Jungkook to look at the artwork in the mirror. At this moment you realize that you were so focused on your best friend’s well being that you didn’t really look at the tattoo itself. 

You try to tilt your head, contorting your upper body to have a peak too but Jungkook’s body is way too imposing for that. It’s only when Jungkook says that he is very satisfied and turns around that you finally get to see the freshly made tattoo and your eyes grow big. 

“Kook” You whisper, breathless 

“You like it?” 

Jungkook notices that he really, really wishes that you do. Growing up, he’s learned not to bother about people’s opinions but you, it’s not the same. It’s not that he is seeking for your approval but he knows that he is disappointed with himself when he disappoints you. Equally, he tends to like something more if you like it too. And for this tattoo, his first tattoo, he truly hopes that you like it as it is very important for him. 

“It’s… stunning!” You say after trying to find the right word but you are too moved for that 

The ink piece is very delicate, objectively very beautiful but what touches you so much is the pattern: a crane. The top of its head is red, just like the one saw with Jungkook when you were young. It is one of your most previous memories. The winter of your five years old, your and Jungkook’s parents took you to the mountains. It was the first time you saw snow and you were so excited that you couldn’t sleep the first night. You spent hours looking through the window, watching the tiny snowflakes falling from the sky. At some point, a huge white bird appeared and landed close to the window. You wanted to wake up your parents so they could see but you were afraid to make too much noise and scare the bird away. And when you turned your head to spot anyone with whom you could share the show, Jungkook was there, all sleepy. You guested that he wanted to go the bathroom and you whispered-yelled his name, urging him to join you but in silence. Your best friend was amazed, just like you. His black doe eyes were so wide and shiny that you could almost see the reflection of the crane in them and, for the first time, you found your best friend very cute. You watched the crane together, elbows touching each other’s, until it flew away. The next day, you told the story to your parents but they didn’t believe you, stressing that cranes only come rarely to Korea and even less in winter. Since then, the crane was like a secret between Jungkook and you, a precious, almost intimate moment you two shared together outside the rest of the world. 

“I don’t even know what to say, Kook, it’s just… perfect” You add with tears in your eyes and reaching out to squeeze his hand to share your gratefulness to have immortalized this ephemeral and secret instant

“I think it was the most magical moment of my life, and it was with you. It’s always with you, Y/N” Jungkook says with a voice thick of emotion “Thank you for coming with me today” 

Read "Steal My Girl" Drabble here

I'm sorry for being inactive, this is just a little something to thank you for your patience 🩷

[cipheramnesia]

Joking aside, I think it's interesting how cannibalism in horror motion pictures started out primarily used as a way to socially other a variety of outgroups, such as people in poverty or non-whites and then it got shifted. The othering still exists, but cannibalism became a way to show power and privilege - it started to become a component of antagonists who represented authority or wealth or colonization. And after that, it got subsumed into the wealthy and powerful as a romantic act of transgression. Sort of a modern day version of Dracula, where the implicit consumption of the poor by the wealthy was turned explicit in a way intended as enticing rather than othering.

At present, it appears cannibalism is entering a sort of recursive era of detachment - treated as a purposeful reclaiming of othering by a newer generation pushing against the more recent conceptualization as cannibalism as an act of dominance by the powerful. It's moving towards a mix, where cannibalism as an act carries an intangible stigma which also serves to signal other people in your outgroup that you are "one of them," in the sense of being a social outcast rather than social authority.

What makes this all interesting is that cannibalism as othering of outgroups, in its original form, hasn't gone away. It remains as the boogey man of cultures different from those of the USA or Europe, still imposed today on imaginary characters which carry all the same traits historically utilized in oppression of and bigotry towards indigenous peoples, but which are otherwise always explicitly identified as separate from those recognized in modern colonized territories. They wouldn't call these caricatures Cree or Mohawk or etc - merely use all the same imagery once applied to those people and others. Likewise, the "crazed cannibal redneck family" hasn't vanished, merely transformed into people who are even more desperately poor, and further mutated away from identifiably human. In fact, if this kind of purposefully used, othering and violent form of cannibalism did not continue to exist, it's doubtful that the more recent utilization of cannibalism as a unifying act of transgression for signaling between an outgroup could exist.

As a fictional creation - distinct from real-world instances - cannibalism has continued to maintain a remarkably consistent baseline as a transgressive act. It's no longer shocking as it once was, as a storytelling tool, yet it retains some underlying power over the human mind that sets characters apart from social acceptability in ways that related fictions (such as vampires and werewolves) do not. I would hazard a guess that this is rooted in cannibalism as a real-world event. While vampires and werewolves are derived from real people, there are no actual supernatural immortals or wolves that change into humans and back, that we know of. Whereas we know with complete certainty that cannibalism has happened, and will probably continue to happen for the foreseeable future.

Additionally the way cannibalism in motion pictures has been applied to cultures and people that fall outside the general concept of "whiteness" in the cultures of the USA and Europe greatly complicates what specific way it can be taken back as a deliberate transgression. This is not to say cannibalism is some verboten concept that makes everyone utilizing it secretly racist - but there is no arguing that it has a long history of being used specifically as a form of racism and/or colonialism (that's another essay by someone else). Few modern day versions of reclaimed cannibalism address this specific historic element in any substantive way.

It's been fascinating to watch cannibalism slowly working its way back to its roots in a reclaimed way, the poor eating the rich no longer a broad fear but a rallying call. I think it will continue to be interesting to see how far back this reaches, and if eventually it will come around enough to discover who has, as we sometimes say, "been here the whole time."

[grapejuicestyless]

Butterfly Wings

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: In an alternate universe where time travel is possible, Harry discovers what the future holds. And theres only one way to change it.

He’d gone over every possible outcome, run his pockets dry as the machine whirred back and forth between decades; no—years. Not even a full ten. He changed his career, his friends, his passions, his address. Down to the way he parted his hair, he tried it all, and yet somehow, it had all come down to the same conclusion. Death.

Without fail, every time the years passed, there you stood, a camera hung around your neck, the camera he got for you as a gift when you’d first met him, waving goodbye. January 20th, 2027. 8:03am.

You were smiling, readily waiting for the car to heat up just a little more before climbing in. You’d cut your hair to your shoulders, put it up in braids and sliced through them with rusty kitchen scissors to make bangs the night before. Harry laughed at how uneven it was and fixed it. Promised to make it better. But he couldn’t make it better, he could never make it better. It just wasn’t possible.

You would leave, go off to do your job and at 12:30pm, he’d receive a call from a hospital a few hours away. They’d tell him the news. The head on collision, a man had served into your lane, smashing up the old blue car you and Harry had fixed up together. Ironic, almost, how evidence of your life you’d built together was crushed in just one reckless moment.

At 1:56pm they would pronounce you dead. He wouldn’t even be there yet, wouldn’t have the chance to say goodbye. You would be gone.

He tried driving you in one of his thousands of trips. It always ended the same. The car was ruined, and you would suffer while he would walk away. He just couldn’t seem to die.

Out of his thousands and thousands of attempts, only one worked. One that he prayed wouldn’t be the only answer, but was.

In one singular time line, you would never get into that car. You wouldn’t drive yourself across Europe to photograph a stranger who would sparkle on stage, and Harry wouldn’t have to shake hands with your friends at the service, the ring heavy in his pocket. The ring he would never get to give you.

So, Harry went back. He traveled back to 2019, when he was helplessly fumbling around for a tour photographer. Someone who could create what he thought up. He stumbled upon your page. His fingers twitched, and his eyes glazed over in despair. This was it, this was the walk off, the forfeit, the end. He brushed past your application, shredded it completely and never looked back.

It was a few years later that you would meet Harry in this timeline. On January 21st, 2027 you attended a party for one of your mutual friends. Harry complimented you, and your boyfriend quickly whisked you away.

He watched from afar, his hands no longer clammy as he watched the clock continue to tick past the time where you had died so many times. You looked gorgeous, smiling down at your feet bashfully, your arm hooked around the brunette actor Harry recognized from a few films.

Your hair was long, and you didn’t have any bangs now. There were no kitchen scissors for you to find and no giggles shared in the bathroom. Only silence. No clothes thrown on the floor in piles or dirty brushes left on the sink. Your decorations were forever missing.

Everyday became increasingly obvious that you were no longer a factor in Harrys life. But he believed it to be worth every moment. He had the privilege of loving you from afar. He had lost you, but at least now he would never truly lose you.

He sipped slowly on his drink that night, acting like he cared for the boring conversations with people he didn’t know, stealing glimpses at the fluttering of your eyelashes.

You looked up, and you caught his eye. It was like you knew something, like there was fear and pain in your eyes.

He never figured that while he had been desperate to hold onto you, you had been doing the same thing.

Harry left that night with a friend, wondering what it could mean. But as he got in the black car and headed for the on ramp, lights blinded him, and it all went dark.

January 22nd, 2027. 2:56am.

[nmoroder]

i know benjamin had a lot on his plate already but hear me out... an au where ayin for his reasons puts ben in charge of extraction team and not the arbiter who must have deserved to be there (not stating the reason. so don't immediately hate on A and all that. see the full text below for a load of details, and also english translation of text on pics 4 & 5)

it has the atziluth sephirot swap their colors (i've already did a post on color swap btw. but purely color) and the age of their filtered appearance; the full color swap (not just color change of department and uniform but colors of their hair, their bodies too) is required for original scheme to stay, with the colors corresponding to fixed sephirot and so on. names, too, would swap to what their respective kabbalah nodes should be and former benjamin is kind of pissed about his mentor's decision to give him work which is enough to drive a meaty human to insanity, even though after his escape he returned and tried to pry ayin off the plan in the earlier time, and overall he did all he could for the man. for him, the virtue would still be about the past and the future though as he'd have to come to terms with what ayin did to him, and his meltdown would probably have not the 'i want you to stay here with me and live at least somehow, i don't want to go' but instead 'i will make this place your tomb just like you did for me'. i guess it kinda sounds close to angela's feelings in ruina and that's also why both atziluth sephirot would've probably backed up her rebellion idk. its a fun little idea which blooms into a shitton of different things to think about

oh and also pics 4 and 5 have roland converse with library version of ben (he MUST be named binah at that point but i KNOW this will just bring confusion) and it's the quote from their first talk in original game. "i've dedicated my entire life to the wish of a single person", then roland asks "and the person's a rotten egg, eh?" to which ben explodes with OH THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT. they'd probably get along as well over their similar feelings about ayin, which is funny. still not sure whether the respective floors would've been swapped for them... i mean either hokma still stands for religion and binah for philosophy and ben being the current binah would take the philosophy floor, or it's just color swap and religion would be dark with stars and philosophy the white hall and all. the anomalies of both floors fit very well with the color schemes and overall topic and i dont wanna meddle into that really but ehh... food for thought ig

[otp-armada]

For a long time, I've felt that Season 5 was structured with a purposeful symmetry by the writers.

To start the season with Clarke and Bellamy apart, one yearning and the other mourning, and to end the season with them in each other's arms, looking out into their future together---I can easily believe that "Nothing will change on the ground" had a closing Becho counterpoint in 5x13 where a conversation ensued in which Bellamy had to tell her that things have changed.

For one, Bob has told us how they never knew if a renewal was coming, and Jason told us how he mapped the series out that it could end in S5. Reflective of his word, 5x13 feels like a soft series finale. If it was planned as such as a contingency to a possible cancellation, then the love triangle/Bellarke storyline also needed resolution.

Two, it was typical of Jason to constrain temporary ships to an arc or two. It tracks if Becho was limited to a single season.

And to that end, the love triangle was so well-structured in season 5 that it seemed heavily poised to end in 5x13.

Like a play, we can split the love triangle into three acts.

Act I - The Reunion Act II - The Fallout Act III - The Reunification

Act I - Clarke is longing for Bellamy on the ground. It's unknown to him that she's alive. We anticipate Bellamy discovering Clarke, only to learn he's in a relationship. The tension ratches before Bellamy and Clarke share an emotional, tearful reunion. There's an awkwardness between them, as they reacclimate to each other's presence. Slowly, they knit back together as a team, old intimacies swathing them. Then comes the penny drop. Clarke learns of Becho.

Act II - Clarke and Company retreat to Polis. Bellamy is preoccupied with ensuring his sister doesn't kill Echo. Meanwhile, Clarke is heartbroken. She keeps to herself, locked away from Bellamy. Clarke's answer to her heartache is to compensate for her perceived loss of Bellamy by latching onto Madi for emotional dependence. Having "lost" Bellamy and standing on the outside looking into all these found families that Clarke isn't a member of, she subconsciously looks to Madi to fill in the voids that Bellamy and their friends left vacant. It's the opposite of her hopes for the two of them to become engulfed into a larger family when Spacekru descended to the ground, and the Bunker inhabitants ascended. Clarke now wants---needs--- to believe that she and Madi can be everything to each other because, in her mind, Madi is all she has. Madi is the only person keeping Clarke from being completely alone in the world, or so she believes. To recant her line of thought, she needed to hear from Bellamy how important she still is to him. And that's exactly what Bellamy wants to keep hidden. He wants to preserve the rational person he's become, keep the relationship he's grown comfortable in, and he knows that to let Clarke fully into his heart is tantamount to reverting to the man he was that followed his heart, his instinct of charging headfirst, with the usual outcome of losing the people he tried to save.

So, Clarke's in a place where she will cross any line to avoid losing Madi. She believes that whatever's changed between her and Bellamy, she can rely on him to safeguard Madi. He's still the man who'd do anything to protect the people he cares about. At this point, Bellamy is also retaining his own outdated perception of Clarke as the rational woman he remembered, the brilliant strategist with political acumen and nerves of steel.

It's when Clarke misinterprets his motives for giving Madi the Flame as a desire to protect Spacekru exclusively that her illusion of Bellamy shatters. It's when Clarke abandons him to Octavia's mercy, or the lack thereof, that his illusion of her shatters.

Act III - Clarke tries to rationalize her decision as necessary. Madi's not having it, and living up to her moniker as "the child from Hell." Meanwhile, Bellamy is hurt by Clarke's abandonment. To him, whatever's changed between him and Clarke over six years, what hasn't strayed from its pattern is Clarke's ability to leave him behind. Touching Echo's sword is a visual clue to the audience that he's resigning himself to be committed to Echo. To remember he has her, at least.

It builds to a head with Echo and Madi confronting Clarke, and Lxa's pseudo-reawakening. Long ago, Lxa influenced Clarke to believe that if she wanted to be strong enough to protect her people, she couldn't allow personal connections to weaken her resolve to save them. Today, "her people" has trickled down to Madi. Clarke's determined to convince herself she did what she had to do until Lxa admits it was wrong of her to abandon the woman she loves at Mount Weather, heavily insinuating how Clarke is also making the same mistake with the man she still loves.

Honestly, the entire second half of 5x13 is so laser-focused on Bellarke that it couldn't NOT include a resolution to the triangle.

Clarke's faith in Bellamy as her hero and savior is restored when Madi tells her how he kept her from spilling more blood as the Commander. Bellamy, Clarke, and Echo all exchange glances, reminding us of the ever-present love triangle.

Bellamy is still upset with Clarke. Not because she left him. That, he could rationalize as her protecting Madi from Octavia and her acolytes and the turncoats who wanted the Commander to lead them. He's heartbroken by his assumption that Clarke doesn't care about him, and doesn't love him like he loves her. Madi sets him straight. Clarke loves him so much that she reached out to him every day for six years. She didn't need to, it wasn't rational to speak into a radio, receiving no answer for all those years. She could have assumed he was dead, like he did, when five years passed with Spacekru still absent. The radio calls stand as proof of her love and faith in him, in her desire for him to come home to her. And he returns her good faith with a reveal of his own: her loss cut him so deeply that he couldn't bear to relive it with more death.

Bellamy's flying so high on the wings of the radio call reveal that it's all heart eyes as he forgives her and invites her back into the fold. He turns back, wanting to say something else, the words on the tip of his tongue, but something holds him back.

From there's an unexplained tonal shift. I mentioned before how the abrupt cut of Echo entering cryosleep suggests it was part of a longer scene we didn't see. One might presume the melancholic, almost sorrowful temperature of Bellamy typing her name and walking away with a heavy slump to his shoulders, eyes forlorn to the floor, was a sadness to be parted from his girlfriend. Honestly, what they're doing equivocates to taking a nap and waking up to what will feel like the next day. What is there to be sorrowful about?

More finite details make me believe a break-up occurred in a deleted scene. The fact that when Clarke offers Bellamy a small, comforting smile, Bellamy pivots his eyes from her, unable to accept the comfort she's offering. Five minutes ago, it was all warmth and heart eyes, and now, you can't bear to accept her gesture? Clarke has nothing to do with why he and Octavia are a mess, and helping each other through their emotional hurdles is what Bellamy and Clarke do for each other.

But you know what would explain it? If, before they entered cryosleep, Head!Bellamy listened to his heart and knew he needed to clean house and be honest with Echo before they all woke up and began a new chapter. Hence, why he wrenched himself away from Clarke when there was more he wanted to say, like, I don't know…maybe to bring up the radio calls? 👀

There's another tonal shift when Clarke and Bellamy awaken. The vibe between them instantly gives husband and wife. All warm smiles, coziness, and bright silhouettes. Weren't there rumors circulating at the time of a deleted Bellarke scene? 👀x2

Monty and Harper's ultimate wish was to pave a path for humanity to find its way to peace. They chronicled their life through video logs, but when they instructed Clarke and Bellamy to be the first to view them, the videos adopted a more specific purpose. To me, the video logs are Marper's equivalent of Clarke's radio calls. Not love letters from one lover to another. More of a passing of the torch, a guide, from an older, more experienced couple to a younger couple beginning their life together. I believe Marper made their video logs of their life and family to prove to Bellamy and Clarke that love can thrive and a family can grow. "Let's show them how to live." And it's Marper essentially showing Bellarke that if two people love each other and they're determined to have a life together, it will manifest. Reading between the lines, Monty's monologue deftly insinuates his hope for Bellamy and Clarke to be blessed with a life similar to his and Harper's.

In a move more intimate than anything we've previously seen, Bellamy puts his arm around Clarke, easily pulling her into his side with not a hint of resistance from her, as they look out into their bright future ahead, lit by the binary stars symbolizing them.

___________________

Season 6 is just as structured.

The love triangle is on full display in the first half. Clarke and Bellamy tip-toeing around each other under Echo's eagle-eyed observation, cluing her in that there's suspiciously more to her boyfriend and his co-leader's seemingly innocuous dynamic. Bellamy cautiously testing the waters to gauge Clarke's feelings for him. Clarke scurring away because Bellamy has unknowingly communicated to her that he's happy with Echo. Bellamy wistfully watching Clarke dance with Doctor Cillian, taking his frustrations out on Echo. Bellamy resolving to make it work with Echo when he wrongly interprets Clarke's dalliance as confirmation of her disinterest in him. Linking Bellamy's resolve to Clarke getting body-snatched, communicating to the audience how he won't be able to wrest his heart away from Clarke.

Bellamy's anger and grief over losing Clarke, viewed partially by Echo. His immense relief to learn she's alive. His determination to rescue her.

After "Go save Clarke!" separates Bellarke from Echo, the narrative notably shifts. We move from the triangle to the split story arcs of a very romantic Bellarke and an independent Echo, with her character development prominently front and center.

Josephine pokes at Bellamy's love for Clarke. He is exponentially desperate to save her the more the ticking clock counts down. He refuses to be deterred by Gabriel and Octavia's hopelessness. He will beat Clarke's heart for her long enough for her to kill that narcissistic brat. His sanity hangs in the balance, waiting for confirmation that Clarke is alive. It's her. It's his Clarke, and a loving embrace ensues. Her nestled in his arms where she belongs, her face in the crook of his neck, lips on his skin, words of affirmation whispered, tears dotting his eyes.

We know they were slated to finally put to voice all the romantic tension that's been brewing between them for seasons. "You called me on the radio every day for six years, and you left me to die in the fighting pit." I would bet a small sum of money that this line from the trailer was dialogue from the scrapped tent scene.

In another part of Sanctum, Echo's on her own, and we finally get insight into her past, into the core of who she is and what morphed her into the person she is. Insight undaunted and uncovered by needing to keep the flames fanning for Becho.

The scripts bring Becho back into the narrative with a distinct alteration. Post-Bellamy's departure from Sanctum, nothing overtly romantic occurs between him and Echo anymore for the rest of the season. It's replaced by a familial bond.

Bellarke's reunions have historically served as an adjunct tool in aiding their co-leaders/friends-to-lovers slowburn arc. Every reunion from 2x05 to 6x13 gradually increases their visual intimacy in increments. Conversely, Becho's reunions also tell a story on the flip side. They start out visually romantic in 5x05, when Bellamy and Echo are so relieved to see each other unharmed that they engage in PDA in front of an unsuspecting Octavia and Clarke. The next time they reunite, it's later on in season 5, and while Bellamy acknowledges Echo in the rover with a hand on her arm, only Echo dons an expression of love as she meets his eyes. Bellamy is very somber. Bellamy hugs Echo in season 6, and it's completely related to his grief over Clarke. True to form, Bellamy really only engages with a woman when he's separated from Clarke. This Becho hug upholds the pattern. And when they reunite at Sanctum, romance is absent between them altogether. It's already revealing that the narrative places Clarke and Echo in the same predicament at points in the season that nearly overlap. Right after Bellamy succeeds in his harrowing rescue mission for Clarke, Echo finds herself facing the same life-threatening ordeal where she almost becomes a vessel for a Prime. Murphy informs Bellamy of this, and nowhere does he display the level of concern, anger, desperation, grief, or any emotion that he did for Clarke. He's happy to know she's ok, and cares about her welfare as he hugs her in greeting, but absent is the overwhelming flood of relief he felt to know his Clarke came back to him. Becho is not the story of how lovers endure the apocalypse; they represent a tale of how love collapses, and their reunions are a reflection of that theme. There's more emotion as Bellamy hesitantly glances over at Clarke, who's clearly experiencing a stab of jealousy at their embrace.

Bellamy and Echo work together well to help save the day, as family does. When Echo offers to help him escort Octavia to the anomaly stone and the best Bellamy can offer is a tap to her arm, to me, it represents Becho in what was supposed to be its final form--exclusively familial. Particularly as he leaves her behind, forgotten, for a sunlit, soothing embrace with Clarke, where their silhouettes are filmed to look like a kiss.

I really do believe that 6x08 was the intended transition point where the triangle wrapped up, and Bellarke was in active development. As I said, there's no way the writers (pre-season 7, when the story was being told sincerely) would sabotage their main ship with an act of infidelity.

I think Jason made the same mistake in s6 as he did in s5. Leaving in every other part of the story structure--exposition, rising action, falling action, and resolution, except the climax (literally) of the romantic Bellarke storyline.

tl;dr I am so very sorry that I hijacked your post to drop an unhinged thesis paper lol. I have spent a disproportionate length of time theorizing about potential deleted confirmation scenes for Bellarke. Whenever I read the words about the topic, it activates a sleeper agent mode in me lmaooooo anyways gonna go hibernate 🏃‍♀️

it's still so fascinating to me that bellarke was supposed to happen in 6x10/6x11, bob was informed of this, but then he received the script and it didn't happen. that's just so sketch. truly what was going on behind the scenes. it's just so WEIRD the more you think about it. also makes me wonder if that was the first time that had happened. i mean, we already know that there were changes to the 1x08 script to get rid of the line where bellamy asks clarke to run away with him, so i don't think it's that far outside the realm of possibility to think that there were other romantic lines/scenes that were cut throughout the series. i honestly think every season they probably toyed with the idea of them happening, wrote a first kiss or a confession or maybe an almost kiss, decided against it and thought hey actually let's push this to next season, drag it out a little longer.

[percabethsong]

I just read your warrior Penelope au post and I love how you explained why Penelope would go in his place because Odysseus is missing his leg, genius

Does it still take Penelope ten years to get back home after the Trojan war or is the timeframe shorter/longer? Is her journey back home similar to what happened in the Odyssey? And if so, does Odysseus get suitors at his door wanting his hand in marriage? How would he hold them off while he waits for his wife to get back home?

Sorry for the questions, late night thoughts go brrrrr

Unfortunately, the ten years journey home still happened, although some changes would be made. I think Circe's would be far more trusting of Penelope since she's a woman, although she would still have turned Penelope's crew into pigs, once Circe saw their captain was a woman and they respected her, she let them go easier and doesn't try to seduce her.

Calypso stays pretty much the same, though, it's Greek Mythology, pretty common to feel attraction to more than one gender.

I imagine Penelope, being Ares champion in this AU, may face things a little more upfront than Odysseus would, even though she's also smart and uses cunning sometimes.

The suitors is an interesting questions! I actually thought about this a lot. It depends how accurate things are with Greek Mythology/history. I often see in this AU Odysseus having suitors, which is a fun concept, but since I'm trying to make a version of this AU that would be more possible in universe (hence Penelope having to use her status as an Amazon to convince people she can fight as a woman, since they were some fem warriors in greek myths or general history, but it was difficult for them to gain people's respect), I would say not exactly. Odysseus already has a heir, and Greek Kings can rule without Queens. However, Odysseus is disabled in this concept, and Ancient Greece was a very ableist society. The exception often made were for war wounds, which Odysseus's wouldn't be considered. Odysseus is still very much capable to rule even if he can't fight, he has a sharp mind and Athena stays by his side helping him, which makes Odysseus a great king. However, it's a very hard thing to be respected as a disabled person in this time, even if it was a bit easier if you were nobility. Because he was the king and had a Amazon ruling by his side, people how doubted him kept their complaints to themselves in the beginning. But without Penelope people starting to question him more, especially after she doesn't return with the crew that left for war, making people more relentless. Then a group of men started to appear at the palaces, demanding Odysseus to choose one of them as an advisor and protector, since the queen had not return to fullfil this role. Odyssey not only very much does not need an advisor and protector, but is also aware of the men true intentions: once he chooses one, he'll be killed in a way that looks like an accident and the man he chose will claim the throne, since Telemachus is still too young to be king.

Regarding how Odysseus would hold them off... Hum, that's a interesting questions. I like to imagine he would invent a lot of little challenges for them, claiming he needs to test the skills of his future advisor, both physical and mental. He would come with a new game ever month. I can also picture him saying he would choose a advisor as soon as he finishes an marble sculpture of Penelope himself, without any help to honour his wife. Every night, though, he breaks a little peace of the stone, having to fix it and buying Penelope time. Or at least hold them down enough until Telemachus is ready to be king.

Don't apologise! I've actually never received these kind questions about a post and it made me really happy!

[calirph]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. all these sentences come from a search on goodread's keywords for royal court, intrigue, arranged marriages and politics. please change names, locations and pronouns as you see fit.some of these might be suggestive.

“Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.”

“You don't know a woman until you've met her in court.”

“A queen keeps a court that is spoken about. A goddess keeps a court that is never forgotten.”

"And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition?"

"That's a question rarely asked here at court."

“Some people will hate you for not loving them.”

“Court games aren't fair. They don't judge men by their worth, and they aren't about what's just. Guilty men can hold power their whole lives and be wept for when they pass. Innocent men can be spent like coins because it's convenient.”

“I hated him but I ached for him. I hated him in the way that you could only hate someone you had loved.”

“I think there’s a part of me that calls to you. And a part of you that calls back.”

“Now the Court's heart is yours and yours alone. Let's break it.”

“People can't be changed by writ or transformed by court decree.”

“There is no playacting in this court. If you stay your hand, they will cut it off.”

“He was a man with a vision- and an extraordinary vision it was..”

“I'll never miss a chance to remind you of what a brat you were. A gloriously beautiful and very spoiled brat. I was utterly charmed by your complete self-absorption. It was rather like courting a cat.”

“Power does not pardon, power punishes.”

“Listen! The court jester's cap and bells. The King is coming!”

“They all come innocent in court.”

“Is that how you get propositioned at the court? 'Mylady, would you be so kind as to allow me to put my manhood in your vagina'?”

"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground."

"A lion does not concern himself with the opinion of sheep."

"The crown must always outweigh the heart."

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

"A wise king never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it."

"The council exists to serve the realm, not the other way around."

"True power lies not in who wields the sword, but in who commands it to be drawn."

"A king is not his crown, nor his throne, but the strength of his people."

"A court full of whispers is more dangerous than a battlefield of swords."

"Loyalty in politics is a fleeting mirage, shimmering brightest when least sincere."

"A ruler's greatest enemy is not the assassin’s blade, but the silence of their allies."

"Do not mistake a bowed head for submission; it often conceals sharpened fangs."

"To rule is to lie as artfully as one builds castles."

"A crown’s weight is not measured in gold, but in the decisions that haunt the wearer."

"The wolf who thrives in the court learns to hunt without claws."

"Victory in politics is not in silencing enemies, but in convincing them to cheer your name."

"A kingdom divided by ambition is a kingdom that bleeds."

"Every courtier is an actor; every throne room, a stage. Trust no applause."

"The dragon chooses the ruler, not the other way around."

"Only a fool thinks the crown is the prize; the crown is merely the burden."

"The gods grant kings their thrones, but it is their people who keep them seated."

"Beware the court jester; behind his laughter hides the sharpest dagger."

"The council meets not for the king’s wisdom, but to manipulate his ignorance."

"A queen with no enemies is either very cunning or already a pawn."

"The throne does not demand blood; it demands souls."

"A mage’s loyalty is never to the crown, only to the power it promises."

"The crown’s shadow stretches far, but it is often the brightest light that blinds the ruler."

"Kings die, queens fade, but the spider’s web of politics endures."

"A court without ambition is a garden without weeds—an illusion of peace."

"The strongest alliances are forged not in loyalty, but in shared hatred."

"A ruler’s greatest ally is their enemy, for it is they who sharpen the blade of ambition."

"Never trust the man who smiles too much; his tongue is as sharp as his knife."

"A kingdom ruled by fear is a kingdom waiting for rebellion."

"The moment a ruler ceases to listen is the moment they begin to fall."

"In the court, truth is a rare currency, spent only when lies will not suffice."

"The scepter may command armies, but it is the ink of treaties that conquers kingdoms."

"A wise ruler keeps their enemies closer not out of trust, but out of necessity."

"The court is a sea of masks; those who wear none are either the wisest or the most foolish."

Arranged Marriages and Political Unions

"Marriages are not made in hearts but in treaties."

"A wedding is but a battlefield draped in silk and flowers."

"To wed for love is folly; to wed for power is survival."

"The altar is the throne’s crueler cousin, binding hearts to duty, not desire."

"They said 'I do' with chains in their eyes and kingdoms on their lips."

"A marriage forged in politics is stronger than any love match, for ambition is eternal."

"She was a queen in name, but a pawn in her husband’s game."

"A crown weighs heavier when shared with someone you cannot love."

"A union of kingdoms is worth a thousand broken hearts."

"The dowry may buy the match, but it cannot buy loyalty."

Tournaments and Honor

"In the lists, honor gleams as brightly as gold, but only blood wins the crowd."

"A knight who rides for glory often finds himself galloping toward ruin."

"The tilt is not for love or honor, but for whispers in the court that outlive the day."

"His lance shattered in her name, but his heart broke for another."

"Tournaments are not won in the lists but in the favors of those who watch."

"Every lance broken in the tourney echoes as a promise in the court."

"The champion wears the laurel, but the king claims the victory."

"He fought for her token, but she gave her heart to another."

"Beneath the clash of swords lies the unspoken battle of alliances."

"The arena smells of sweat and steel, but the court reeks of treachery and roses."

Arranged Marriages and Political Unions

"Marriages are not made in hearts but in treaties."

"A wedding is but a battlefield draped in silk and flowers."

"To wed for love is folly; to wed for power is survival."

"The altar is the throne’s crueler cousin, binding hearts to duty, not desire."

"They said 'I do' with chains in their eyes and kingdoms on their lips."

"A marriage forged in politics is stronger than any love match, for ambition is eternal."

"She was a queen in name, but a pawn in her husband’s game."

"A crown weighs heavier when shared with someone you cannot love."

"A union of kingdoms is worth a thousand broken hearts."

"The dowry may buy the match, but it cannot buy loyalty."

Tournaments and Honor

"In the lists, honor gleams as brightly as gold, but only blood wins the crowd."

"A knight who rides for glory often finds himself galloping toward ruin."

"The tilt is not for love or honor, but for whispers in the court that outlive the day."

"His lance shattered in her name, but his heart broke for another."

"Tournaments are not won in the lists but in the favors of those who watch."

"Every lance broken in the tourney echoes as a promise in the court."

"The champion wears the laurel, but the king claims the victory."

"He fought for her token, but she gave her heart to another."

"Beneath the clash of swords lies the unspoken battle of alliances."

"The arena smells of sweat and steel, but the court reeks of treachery and roses."

Forbidden Matches and Love

"Their love was a spark that could burn kingdoms."

"He kissed her in shadows, where neither crowns nor duty could find them."

"Love born in defiance is the most fragile and the most dangerous."

"They spoke vows in secret, knowing their houses spoke oaths of blood."

"Their love was an act of war, their union a rebellion in itself."

"No gate is high enough, no lock strong enough, to keep out a desperate heart."

"She gave him her heart, though her father demanded her hand for another."

"They met under stars they could never share."

"In the court of lies, their love was the only truth."

"He was her greatest sin, and she his only redemption."

Enemies and Betrayals

"She married her enemy, and yet the battlefield never left her mind."

"He took her hand in marriage but held a dagger in the other."

"A kiss from an enemy is sweeter when it hides a blade."

"The wedding feast was a truce; the bridal chamber, a battlefield."

"Two houses united, two hearts divided."

"His bride wore a smile, but her vows spoke treachery."

"They danced at the feast, each step a calculated move in their game of thrones."

"To wed an enemy is to hold a viper to your breast."

"The crown decreed their union; the gods wept in protest."

"She called him ‘husband,’ but he called her ‘traitor.’"

Duty vs. Desire

"A prince must follow duty; a man must follow his heart. Rarely do the two paths meet."

"She wore the crown, but her heart wore chains."

"The court demanded heirs; the heart demanded freedom."

"A ruler has no time for love, only alliances."

"She longed for the knight, but the crown chose the king."

"His heart burned for her, but his hand burned for power."

"To love her was treason; to lose her was death."

"The heart’s rebellion is the crown’s greatest enemy."

"He gave his life for his kingdom, and his heart to the wrong woman."

"Love is the luxury of those who do not rule."

Mystery and Magic in Romance

"Her kiss was a spell that no mage could undo."

"The stars themselves envied their forbidden love."

"The prophecy foretold their love would unite the realm, or destroy it."

"He wore the amulet she gave him, a reminder of what he had lost."

"Their love was cursed by gods and envied by mortals."

"The magic of their love defied the will of kings."

"She dreamed of him every night, though her magic forbade her to touch him."

"Their hearts spoke a language even dragons could not silence."

"In her eyes, he saw the storm that would reshape the realm."

"He was a knight, she a sorceress; their love was as doomed as it was eternal."

[shivayagojo]

PORSCHE'S GIRL | F1

masterlist

f1

They're back on the grid. Head of Porsche Motorsport, Thomas Laudenbach, recently announced the arrival of Porsche into the scene of Formula 1, marking their first constructor appearance since 1964. Porsche will become the 11th grid in Formula 1 for the 2025 season. More news to follow regarding team personnel, car, and driver.

tagged: porschef1

see comments below

teamLH: screw all that Lewis Hamilton to win his 9th title with Ferrari!

> lululemoncalled: This isn't even about Mercedes or Ferrari. Why the hell is Lewis mentioned?

> delulu4ferrari: Don't worry. He's just coping from 2021.

madmax: Porsche saw the silly season we had in 2024 and said screw it, might as well join the fun.

> tame_impala_stan: Imagine telling someone in 2021 that Lewis Hamilton would sign with Ferrari AND Porsche would join the F1 grid!

f1coper: This... can't be? FIA listened to us and gave us another team? 22 drivers? 😲

> dailydosageofpain: 24 in 2026 when Cadillac joins. Real F1 is coming back!!

overthemoon: PORSCHE! SIGN SEBASTIAN VETTEL AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

> gina: Why Vettel?

> meep_meep: Because he's German andso is Porsche

> countingsheep: No, wait, sign Mick Schumacher. He deserves a chance!

TWITTER:

Oscar Piastri

Went out for a run again, what did I miss?

|

Uh... who wants to tell him?

|

No, no, let him get there. He's got it. 

audi

We've always been at the forefront of innovative racing technology. And with our rich history in the sport, we're excited for our future as we announce we will enter Formula 1 earlier than anticipated. We are proud to join the sport, taking over Kick Sauber, and rebranding as Audi.

see comments below

nicohulkenberg: 💪💪

> nicooooo: Please get this man his podium 🙏🙏

lululemoncalled: I KNOW YOUR GAMES AUDI!

holymoly: Audi, you've got some explaining to do

> ghost: I smell BEEF!

> f1coper: German Civil War

tiffintiffany: This would be really funny if Audi had planned this for weeks and this was just an intern messing it up.

porschef1

You've been waiting. We've been waiting. The truth is finally revealed. We are pleased to announce 4x champion Sebastian Vettel and F3 Champion and WEC Champion, Ava Florence, to our full-time driver lineup. Additionally, Daniel Ricciardo will be joining us as test and reserve driver. Driving in its most beautiful form.

tagged: sebastianvettel, avaflorence, danielricciardo

see comments below

danielricciardo: enchanté

> dr3: DANNY WELCOME BACK!

> britneyberg: Don't worry Daniel, Porsche will treat you better than Red Bull ever did!

motorsportrevolution: PORSCHE JUST CHANGED THE ENTIRE F1 GAME 🔥

> mamamia: Vettel + rookie female driver + Ricciardo as reserve? This is GENIUS marketing

overthemoon: PORSCHE!!! MY LIFE YOURS!!!

lululemoncalled: Porsche dips F1 for like 40 years, then comes back by bringing Seb out of retirement, Daniel Ricciardo reserve, and the first female driver on the grid since forever?? I luv you guys!

> f1historian: First female driver since Giovanna Amati in the 90s? INJECT THIS INTO MY VEINS 💉

> pandemiccookedme: I'm jumping on the bandwagon.

florence4ever: MAMA MADE IT TO F1!

> forzaferrari: Didn't she steal the championship from Borteleto in F3 before jumping to WEC?

> visacashapptookmymoney: Borteleto shaking in his boots now that Porsche's beefing with Audi and Ava is on the F1 grid.

f1

Welcome Ava Florence to the F1 grid. The Belgian-Japanese driver becomes the first full-time female driver in F1 since Giovanna Amati. However, unlike her predecessors, Ava will become the first female driver to qualify for an F1 Grand Prix. What future does she have in store?

tagged: avaflorence

see comments below

mercedesamgf1: Proud to have representation on the grid! 💪

> noMikeyno: Was this written by Susie Wolff?

madmax: This makes Yuki look like the lesser brother of the family tree. 

> dududu: Wait no don't do that to him. His heart is already in pieces after not getting the RB seat 😭

lewishamilton:  Can't wait to see you and Seb on the grid.

> avaflorence: Just say you miss your boyfriend (ps. he has his own boyfriend)

> bwoah: HELP she's talking about Kimi 😭

> motorsportrevolution: First female driver since the 90s and she's already got more sass than the entire grid 😂

> girlpower: Queen behavior confirmed ✨

technoracer: Bet Audi is REGRETTING whatever they did last week💀

> charleshavemykids: Porsche 1, Audi 0

avaflorence

Always knew I was a Porsche girl. One last ride in this car before I rip the roof off and try to avoid getting a ten second penalty.

see comments below

lululemoncalled: Oh she's STUNNING!

> florence4ever: MAMA Florence for a reason

pandemiccookedme: Was that a diss at Ocon?

technoracer: That Porsche livery looks FIRE on her 🏎️

> porschef1: What can we say? We're good at what we do?

rivalrymode: Audi watching this post like 👀

> neweymerchant: No wait I just realized they're in the likes!

> totosbasement: Porsche 2, Audi 0

autosport.com

WHO IS AVA FLORENCE AND WHAT TO EXPECT?

          AVA FLORENCE'S surprise signing with Porsche's new Formula 1 team has sent shockwaves through the motorsport world. The 19-year-old Belgian-Japanese driver is set to become the first full-time female F1 driver since Giovanna Amati in 1992. But who exactly is Ava Florence, and what can we expect from her in the pinnacle of motorsport?

          BORN IN SPA, Belgium, to a Belgian father and Japanese mother, Florence was exposed to motorsport from an early age. Growing up in the shadow of the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit, she began karting at the age of six. Florence quickly made a name for herself in the Belgian and European karting scenes, claiming multiple national titles and finishing runner-up in the CIK-FIA European Karting Championship in 2019. Florence's transition to single-seaters was nothing short of meteoric. In 2020, she dominated the French F4 Championship, securing the title with three races to spare. Her performances caught the eye of several Formula 3 teams, and she made the leap to the highly competitive series in 2021.

          THE 2022 F3 SEASON saw Florence emerge as a true star of the future. In a closely fought battle, she clinched the championship in the final race at Monza, becoming the first female driver to win the title. Her success led to widespread speculation about a potential Formula 2 drive, but Florence surprised many by signing with Porsche Penske Motorsport for their FIA World Endurance Championship campaign.The move proved to be a masterstroke. 

          FLORENCE adapted quickly to endurance racing, playing a crucial role in Porsche's 2024 WEC championship victory. Her ability to manage tires, fuel, and race strategy over long stints impressed many in the paddock.

          FLORENCE'S UNCONVENTIONAL PATH to F1 via WEC has left many wondering how she'll fare against the established stars of the sport. However, her track record suggests she has the talent and adaptability to succeed at the highest level.Her experience in both open-wheel and endurance racing could prove invaluable in F1's current era, where tire and energy management are crucial. Florence's smooth driving style and tactical acumen, honed in WEC, may give her an edge in races where strategy plays a key role. 

          PAIRED WITH FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION Sebastian Vettel at Porsche, Florence will have an excellent mentor to guide her through her rookie season. The combination of Vettel's experience and Florence's raw talent could make Porsche a dark horse in their debut season.

user001: Manifesting a home race win for Florence in both Japan and Spa

user002: SHE WINS IN SUZUKA! SHE WINS IN SPA!

user003: She hasn't done open wheel racing for a year. I think we're over hyping her rookie season.

This is posted on Wattpad, but will also be posted on Tumblr. This is Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2 or check it out on Wattpad under the same name.

[supernatural-hunter1]

“Hunter On The Crew” Part 1.

Summary: Saving people, hunting things, Family Business! Right?.... WRONG! You some how ended up on the thousand sunny, and meet a stranger pirate wearing a straw hat and joined his crew, But little did they know you are actually a hunter who hunts down the supernatural.

Strawhats will female reader, Fluff story🥰

Might turn this into a series?😅

It was a perfect sunny day no clowds in sight and the ocean water was calm. Luffy Usopp and Chopper We’re sitting on the railing on the side of the ship fishing as always, Zoro was doing his usual training routines in the crow’s nest, Nami is relaxing on a chair sitting under an umbrella to block out the sun while Robin was sitting next to her reading a book, and Brook was playing a calming tune on his violin sitting on the swing under the tree on the deck, and Jinbe is staring the ship. Sanji comes out of the kitchen with a tray and walk over to approach Nami and Robin.

“Here you go ladies.” He said, as he handed them their drink. “Thank you Sanji.” Robin said with light smile, Sanji goes all heart-eyes and goofy smiling. “Anything for you my darlings.” He goshed, before giving them a slight bow and rushing back to the kitchen. just then Nami noticed a slight change in the air? Even Brook senses a similar feeling and immediately stopped playing his music?

Suddenly something falls beside him on the grassy deck, and Brook jumps back with a frightened shriek which now got everyone’s attention, and everyone rushes over to get it out? “What’s going on up here, I heard Brook scream and came up to see what was wrong?” Franky said as he emerged out of his workshop.

“Whoa, what is that?” Luffy asked? Looking down he sees a black rounded duffel bag with silver handles as he picks it up off the ground, “Be careful we don’t what kind of dangerous things might be in that bag?” Usopp says nervously? Robin walks over and takes a closer look and noticed something, “look it even has a strange symbol on it?” She said. Pointing at the symbol of a sun with a star in the center of it, “I’ve never seen anything like that and it fell from the sky?” She added as she looked up?

Just then something else entirely catches their eyes, Usopp pulls out a telescope to see what it is? and to his surprise and horror it was you falling out of the sky he shouts to the others to warn them, "THERE IS SOMEONE FALLING FROM THE SKY!?" He shouted as he pointed to your direction.

Unfortunately, the worst was yet to come as a giant sea king jumped up from the water with its mouth wide open, luckily Sanji used his skywalked ability and caught you before you became a sea king snack. He glanced down at you his eyes widened he saw you're recovered from head to toe with injuries and blood and pieces of your clothing were torn up, he quickly rushed back to the ship.

A few hours go by, and you slowly start to wake up in the infirmary on the ship you groan, a little in pain, ask you slowly set up. "ow, man, what happened?" You muttered. "Oh hey glad you're finally awake." A voice said, do you turn your head to see a guy wearing a straw hat? "How are you feeling? Be careful not to move too much." Another voice said you looked over. And saw a reindeer wearing a blue helmet with an 'x' on the center of it.

"I feel a little bit sore in some places, but I think I'll be all right." You said as he looked down, add your bandages. "Thank you, um..." You for a second. "My name is Chopper I'm the ship's doctor." He introduced himself, " thank you doctor Chopper my name is Y/n." You look over. To the man on the other side of the room, "i'm sorry. I didn't quite get your name either?" You asked?

"The names Luffy the captain of the ship, and I'm going to be the future king of the pirates." He said, you let out a sigh of freelief "nice to meet you Luffy." You smiled, he then start asking you questions and you answered telling him everything that you could remember, at 1 minute, you shy away for a second. And asked him if he was looking for new members to join his crew and offered to join?

Luffy nodded with a big smile on his face after a few minute. He and chopper took you out of the infirmarie and onto the deck where everyone was waiting. "Everyone, great news, we have a new crew member!" He announced. You walk out of the infirmarie with a blanket wrapped around you. Like a cloak protecting you from the cold air. "Everybody meet Y/n." He said, you nervously smiled and waved.

"Hi." You've said nervously, Robin was the first to greet you then Usopp and Nami also introduced themselves after, Robin then handed you your bag. You thanked her happily. And she pointed you to the restroom to change out if you're torn clothes, you left for a while and changed into new clothes then once you were done you made your way to the kitchen.

You slowly opened the door and poked your head through the door, Sanji was the first to notice "Well would you look who it is, come in and get something to eat." He said, as he hand out a plate of food, you walk in closing the door behind you before walking over to him.

"It smells really good, then again? I haven't eaten anything in 3 days, so anything would be pretty good right about now, thanks." You said, as you gently take the plate.

You pull-down the front of your shirt showing them a tattoo on the side of your chest, it's a sun with a star on the center of it, Luffy's eyes sparkled with awe "THAT IS SO COOL!" He said excitedly, Usopp scratches the back of his head in confusion."What did you mean by 'hunters' and 'protecting yourselves' from what exactly?" He asked? "Do you know much about werewolfs and vampires?" You said, and he and everyone else in the room nodded, "well, where I'm from, we are known for hunting down creatures of the supernatural, like werewolves and ghouls, and all that at." you added.

After getting your meal and sitting down in a chair between jinbai and Robin then you all started talked and laughing, "Hey Y/n speaking of which there's something I've been meaning to ask you?" Robin asked, "sure thing what is it?" You said, "there was a strange symbol on your duffel bag, that I have never seen before mind I ask what that means?" She asked, and you nodded.

"It's called an anti possession mark, it's what the hunters wear to protect ourselves from being possessed, See." You answered,

You explained to luffy and his crew more about it, you even told them a little bit about your childhood and growing up learning about creatures of the supernatural and learned about their weaknesses and strength. Sometime after dinner, you offered to help Sanji out with washing the dishes but also for the chance to get to know your new crewmate more too.

"Here, let me help you out with those?" You said, walking to the sink to clean your dish. Sanji swore that he could feel his heart skip a beat when you offered so sweetly, he shook his head and gave you a light smile. "No, it's alright y/n i can handle it from here, I appreciate the offer those but maybe next time." He said, he gently takes your dish and placed it in the sink. You nodded at his word Nami walked over and she dragged you out of the kitchen to show you around the ship.

Later in the night, you decided you wanted to sleep on the floor in a small corner of the girls' room with the pillow and a blanket, as everyone was asleep you lied there, awake looking up at the ceiling, thinking to yourself maybe things wouldn't be so bad here after all? Before closing your eyes and start to drift off to sleep.

( I hope you guys like the story i think I might turn this into a series.😅)

[astronova-00]

Happy Birthday Sev!! Hope y'all will take this oneshot of an au that I plan for the future (my friend kinda cried...)

“What is that?” That being the subject of the kids’ attention. They were so focused on the vial that they didn’t notice someone walking in with a gaunt look on their face. Although they could sense the shift of change in the atmosphere. 

However, back onto the matter on hand…the kids couldn’t take their eyes off the vial. It seemed to give off a strange glow when Harry played around with it in his hands. As he did this, he caught the attention of the shadow in the background, who then made himself known, “What are you doing with that?” His voice came out strained and sounded more like nails scraping down the front of a chalkboard than the intimidation he wanted. 

Harry, and Ron jumped at the voice while Hermione had the decency to look guilty. “Hello Professor!” She happily replied while arming the other two to say something along the lines of that. They just mumbled nonsense under their voices. “How are you?”

“Enough chatter, I asked a question.” Severus’ tone suggested that he didn’t have time for games, and when Hermione got a good look at him, she could tell why. Dark circles creeped under his eyes and it seemed like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His hair looked dishevelled and even more greasy (as if that was possible). The professor looked as if his whole world was turned upside down. Although Hermione didn’t have the time to ponder on it any longer when Sirius bursted into the room, laughing along with Professor Lupin. 

“Oi! Whatcha doing here, Snivellous?” Sirius accusingly asked as he swung his arm around Remus’ shoulder to keep him balanced. The trace of alcohol was evident on his breath. Severus froze, not at the sight of his old bully-no he got quite good at not reacting to him-but instead at the smell. Flashes floated his head all at once and yet it was all a blur. The familiar bottle was seen in each flash with the smell of cheap whiskey lingering on. Same one that Sirius had now harboured. 

Severus was not in the mood for whatever childish games they would usually put up with. His eyes snapped down to Harry’s hand, and a twitch of emotion ran across his face. To tell which one would be hard to say. Ignoring everyone’s curious looks, Severus inched closer to Harry, and snatched the vial out of his hand. “Do not touch what is not yours.” He hissed with a vein popping from his forehead. 

Harry looked back at his professor with glowing hatred in his eyes, matching the vial in Severus’ closed fist. Ron hid behind Hermione with a sheepish face and apologetically smiled.  

Severus curses himself for being too distracted in his thoughts to not have seen the latter coming. Of course when there are so many changes that seem to have forced their way into your life, you don’t bother to acknowledge them until it’s too late. Sirius thrashed his way out of Remus’ arms (despite the other pulling him back) and headed straight for Severus but missed and landed on Harry. Who caught him right away and decided to lay him on the couch in the room they were in. 

Words flew around as the four of them gathered around Sirius and asked if he was alright. Severus couldn’t give a rat’s arse about him. He got what he came for and now he can leave before Dumbledore finds him with the leftover order members. That old man did not know what privacy meant when it came to over people. Severus left the fools in the room without making a sound (which he was very proud of) and wandered down one of the many halls in the manor.

A familiar pain struck through him. The very same one that has been clinging onto him, one that he cannot shake. It’s beautifully poetic in a sense. Warm hands always touch him but never there and they will never touch again. His ears ring with the soft whisper of their nights and the laughter of their youth. How they managed a lifetime together in so little time will always boggle Severus. He remembers everything and even when he tries not to, it sneaks up on him. Memories torn apart to showcase the struggle and how far they’ve gotten. Not far enough. It was never enough. All that pain and effort just for Severus to be left with a singular tag with his name on it. He finally understood the sorrow and grief when it came to these things. Pulled from his thoughts, Severus sees Dumbeldore from the corner of his eye. 

Albus clapped the other gentlemen’s hand and smiled. They seemed to be in a friendly conversation, so Severus decided to sit down at the long dining table that they’ve used for meetings. Severus had no doubts that he was going to get reprimanded for not showing up for the meeting tonight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. There’s been a lot more of that recently. The urgency to fix all the wrongs he’s committed, seemed like an utter waste. What was the point? He found himself asking more often. What will he get out of all this?

As he sat down, Molly smiled at him and passed him a cup of coffee. Just like he likes it. She took it upon herself to get his preferences written down. Two sugars and one milk. Many guessed he liked it black but that’s what he loved. Severus’ shaky hands wrapped around the warm mug and the steam blinded him for a second as he brought it up to his lips. His eyebrows finally relaxed as he took his first sip and nodded at Molly who looked like a kid on Christmas. “Oh Severus! Let me get you something to eat with your coffee!” Before he could protest, she went straight into the kitchen and came out with a plate of whatever she had made. He looked at the plate and felt his stomach flip. He slipped his hand into his pocket where the vial was and moved it between his fingers. Thankfully those kids were dunderheads and didn’t realise what was inside. 

From the moment Severus walked in, Minerva did not take her eyes off him. Looking at him like there is something else to see. Peeling apart his carefully crafted facade and clawing deeper into him. His eyes floated to the wallpaper behind her and turned his mind off. Blank. Whispers of the past circling in a loop. He’s never felt more isolated, never more detached. It’s cold and empty inside…a feeling that has never quite left him. It’s a sad reminder that he is destined to always lose, no matter how far he gets. The clock was ticking and yet he was the one counting down the seconds. 

Albus Dumbledore was a man who was always able to command a room. Even if you didn’t know him personally or even like him, you respected him. While it be his morals or his powers, there was that common goal of respect that you’ve held for him. Severus was able to fall into that trap as well. Hook. Line. And Sinker. The old bastard managed to get the straggling members to head to the table and locked eyes with Severus. It was a gaze that meant there was something to be discussed in front of everyone with no escape nor time to come up with excuses. Severus clutched the vial tighter. 

“If I may,” Albus started off, gaining the other’s attention with his eyes still trained on Severus, “It has come to my attention that we have one last thing to discuss.” Leave it to him to have that cryptic sentence. 

Tonks had a keen eye for evidence, hence why she made a good auror, but her hair changed from her normal bubblegum pink to a navy blue, expressing her confusion. Her boss sat beside her with a protective look and then Alastor sat at the corner, nursing his flask. “Oi, spit it out already, why don’t ya!” Alastor muttered with a roll of his eye, and the other went haywire. “Some of us got places to be!”

Tonks let out a laugh and her face changed into a snout while her hair switched to a lighter blue and then rested back to her normal look. Kingsley covered his mouth ‘effectively’ with his mug of tea that Molly kindly brought over. Arthur helped her back, supporting the tray with the other mismatched mugs and teacups of hot water. Severus was the only one with taste (and strength) to handle coffee. The rest of the weaklings had their tea, while Albus decided to continue with his announcement when Sirius, Remus, and the kids walked in. Sirius had a drunken smirk plastered on. 

“As I was saying, Sirius has let me know that Severus has not shared all that he has learned within the few weeks that he has been gone. It seems that he is holding a vial that contains memories during the first war that will be crucial for the upcoming.” Severus’ eyes widened at this and slowly shifted his eyes to look at Sirius, who was already staring at him…as were everyone else. 

The thought of everyone’s eyes on him made him feel dirty. Like he had to scratch at himself until the hyponychium turned red. Goosebumps started to form over him, when he noticed that they were all looking for an answer. Sirius Black looked like he won the fucking lottery. Mouth wide open with his perfect pearly whites and even with the decay of twelve years in prison, his face looked even better. Severus parted his lips and silently cleared his throat and shifted his attention from Sirius to the whole room. “I-....I do not know what you are talking about.” He dismissed. 

However, since God was out to get him, he made Ronald Weasley pay attention to a conversation that was not quidditch related and decide to speak against his professor. There were only twelve people in the room and yet Severus felt as if he was on a stage giving a lecture. “Yeah you do! You literally yelled at us to give it back to you.” The ginger boy annoyingly added while Albus nodded his head. 

Severus glared at the boy and cleared his throat, “It has nothing to do with the order.” His words slowly pushed through his teeth and he took another sip from his coffee, using his free hand. 

Sirius barked a laugh and threw his head back, “You hear that, Moony? Seems like our little Snivvy got his own life that we weren’t aware of!” Remus looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. 

Severus was trapped, he couldn’t move. Everything he did was on a loop and his words were like someone else had written them for him. The muffled voices of everyone was coming back clearer into his hearing when suddenly the vial, he was clutching to like a lifeline, was being levitated out of his pocket. He couldn’t move, frozen in another thing that he didn’t have control over. 

“Severus.” Albus’ voice was a dangerous whisper, “Why do you have a pensieve on you?” 

The other’s face still remained calm, cool, and collected. He didn’t give any indication that he was affected by being called out. There were many times where Severus wished he stayed home from an order meeting and this is one time he greeted that he went. Everyone’s eyes varied from looking at him with curiosity or at the vial Albus was holding. “I am not withholding any information relevant to the war.” 

“But you are withholding something.” Albus pushed. 

“Am I not allowed my secrets?”

“Not if they are causing you to slip.” Severus opened his mouth to protest but Albus held up his hand, “Do not think that I have not noticed for the last few weeks, you have become sloppy. You have been giving quick, brief responses. Leaving just as soon as you’ve come in. I decided not to bring it up until someone else noticed and chose to do so with the company of trusted members.” 

Severus rolled his eyes at Albus' abrasive speech. “The vial contains muggle affairs…none of the sort that a respectable wizard would trouble themselves with.” However, this just gained the interest of Hermione and Arthur. “Severus! You know about those wonderful muggle devices? I would love to come together with you on that. I simply cannot get enough of the simplicity of the whole concept.” 

Severus gave the man a tight smile, “If I have the time.” A promise that would never be fulfilled, if Severus had anything to do with it. “However, if you would like to ask Miss Granger for assistance. As I recall she is a muggleborn.” 

“Oh yes! Mr Weasley, I would love to answer any questions you have!” The two broke off into a small conversation on the side as their voices faded in Severus’ head. His eyes drifted back to Albus who was asking Sirius for something. He couldn’t hear anything other than the beating of his own heart along with everyone else's’. The soothing rhythm from the others calmed his nerves. He could feel a bead of sweat on the side of his head, slowly rolling down. Once again, he snapped back into reality when Sirius came back with a wobble in his walk, and the bowl meant for the pensieve.  

“Either you agree to allow us to see whatever you are hiding from the order in this or we will force you too.” Albus’ cold decision came as a shock to both him and Minerva. 

“Albus! Surely the boy is allowed his privacy as does anyone else in this!” Minerva shouted as she stood up in her seat to make her point. 

“I have to think of the order and cannot allow my feelings to be involved with this matter. If the order does not feel safe-...”

“That is bullshit and you know it. Does Severus not matter in this situation? How dare you choose someone else over him, once again?” Minerva could have stopped and let Albus bash him but she didn’t. She has had enough, a little too late but Severus is not complaining…just tired of it all. 

“Minerva.” His voice heavy, “I’ll just get it over with. If being able to see that I am one capable of emotions is what these people who don’t know me need, then so be it.” Minerva saw his resigned sigh and sat back down with a look of pity towards him. He resisted the urge to glare at her. He did not need nor want pity for anything. Severus got up from his seat, carefully making sure his coffee wouldn’t spill and took the fogged up vial from his pocket of his trousers. He placed it in front of Albus at the head of the table. 

Albus had a troubled look in his eyes but his pride for the greater good overcame that. His hand slowly took the vial and uncorked it. “If everyone could gather around me.” Tonks, Kingsley, Molly, Alastor, Arthur, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Minerva, Sirius, and Remus cramped together around the old wizard. They all had different looks in their eyes that Severus couldn’t quite pinpoint due to him not really giving a fuck. 

“If I could do the honours, Black.” It wasn’t a question as Severus took the uncorked vial from Albus and poured it into the pensieve that Sirius was placing down. Sirius didn’t have time to react as they were being pulled into the memories of Severus Snape. 

Old polka dotted wallpaper that seemed like it was there forever. Everything was a faded pink in the bedroom and there sat two teenagers looking into a mirror and one on the bed. “I still think Sev could rock the look.” Said the dark brunette girl with hazel eyes. She was wrapped in a strawberry shortcake blanket and wearing a pair of jorts with beat up converses. 

“You’d think anyone could ‘rock a look’ as long as they got black hair.” A younger looking Severus deadpanned (with a heavy northern accent) as he stretched across the pink frilly bed sheets. His faded ‘Black Sabbath’ lifted up from his stomach and showed his happy trail and his jeans sagging. His docs were discarded on the floor and his bare feet were stretched out around the bed as well. 

“That’s Professor Snape?” Harry muttered to Ron, with a hint of flirtation in his voice. Hermione blushed and tore her glaze from the scene playing in front of her. “Can’t possibly understand why someone would call him ugly.” Hermione muttered softly as her blush stained her face. 

Ron looked at the two with disgust, “Lay off it.” 

“Am I wrong? Also pass me my bra.” The brunette asked with a hand outstretched towards Severus without looking behind her. The third teenager, the one beside her, passed the black bra from Severus to her. “Thanks.” She said as she uncovered herself and let her breasts fall down. 

The group looked around the memory and instantly covered the three kids’ eyes with looks at Severus. However he had a soft smile on his face and couldn’t take his eyes off the scene playing in front of them. “What the fuck is this Snivellous?” Sirius yelled out as his drunken state was sobered quickly when Albus had called them over. Must have taken a potion when he went to get the pensieve. “It’s my childhood.” 

The memory continued on. 

“Eden, I would love it if you didn’t flash our poor boys in my house. We are only fifteen.” A younger Lily Potter neé Evans walked into the open doorway with a six pack of cheap beer in her hand and a lighter in her other. Eden laughed as she coughed into her elbow. 

Hearing her voice snapped Sirius, Remus, and Harry up to look up to her with slight tears. 

“Only fifteen she says as she brings in alcohol and a lighter for underage smoking and drinking.” The darker teen who had dreadlocks and was lying on Eden's back. He had black jeans with an ‘AC/DC’ shirt on, and beat up converses as well. His ear was surprisingly pierced, which dangled a flat, black lighting bolt. “And here I thought our little Miss Princess Perfect was the good one.” He earned a laugh from Eden and Severus.  His twist of words also earned Lily giving him the bird. 

“My mother smoked and drank?” Harry exclaimed as he locked eyes with the memory of Lily Evans. Severus silently answered his question with a nod of his head. 

“Shut the fuck up Daniel before I kick you out. My house, my rules.” Lily stuck her tongue out as she placed the beer next to Eden and flopped on the bed next to Severus. “Move over.” 

“Looks like someone got broken up with.” Eden said as she pushed Daniel over of her and propped up on the inside of her hands with her stomach on the rug. “Tell us what happened, we know you wanna.” She said with a roll of her eyes as she popped open a can of beer and passed one to Daniel who did the same for Severus. 

Tonks and Kingsley raised eyebrows at each other before facing Severus with a look of curiosity. Neither had the guts to speak up until Alastor did. “Albus I don’t know much about you but all I see is a bunch of kids from the past. Ain’t nothing here that wicked boy is hiding.” Sirius flashed his eyes to his former boss and widened his eyes. Within all the years of working for him, he'd seen Moody a compliment. Hence why they also called him Mad-Eye. Sirius snapped back to Remus when he started to whisper something. 

“She looks young.” The words echoed around the empty space where the next memory seemed to be setting up for, Harry inched past his friends and closer to his godfathers. Sirius swung his arm over his boyfriend and looked at Harry with pained eyes and a weak smile. “I didn’t even think that Lily would be in these…”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She was my best friend.” Severus responded as he walked into the house, motioning for the others to follow him. “We should be in here.” He muttered as he opened the door. 

“How is it that you remember these? That isn’t possible.” Albus asked as he followed Severus. 

“It’s impossible to forget.” Severus whispered, before coming to a stop. 

The others filed in and the famous Golden Trio looked at one another for the first time in minutes. Neither one had to say anything to already know what they were going to say. Minerva walked behind them and had a wry smile on her face, and ushered them inside the room. 

The room was the same before but it was obviously a different day. Outside the small window, it was murky and a tough tree branch was racking against it. The rain, pouring harder than before. The four teenagers were still in the room except now they were wearing pyjamas. Lily and Eden had a similar set of silk camisoles with the matching shorts. But Lily’s were a groovy forest green with a touch of brown and dark red mixed in, while Eden’s were a simple blood red with a little lace bow. Severus and Daniel were wearing white wife beaters and black gingham patterned pants. Severus and Daniel shared the bed while Lily was helping Eden blow up the air mattress. 

“Thanks for letting us crash for a couple nights.” Eden thanked in between gasps, trying to regain as much air as possible. 

“I said anything and I mean it. It would be pretty horrible if I let you back at Sev’s while Tobias is there. Besides, think of this as our redo sleepover.” Lily smiled as held onto the almost full mattress. 

“How so?” Daniel asked as he opened a bag of crisps and started to shovel them into his mouth and hand some to Severus. 

Severus watched closer on how his past self and Daniel interacted. He seemed to be taking everything in, not letting him wander until they captured everything. Severus found himself sitting on the bed and staring at Daniel with a face of woe. Severus closed his eyes and let the conversation that he knew all too well flow around him.

“Lils, Jacob was a jerk and you knew that. Besides just last week, you were saying how you wanted a little fun and nothing serious. Why is he bothering you so much? He’s your average brown eyed desi. I mean sure your parents are just bigoted in general, but that’s just cokeworth’s edgy charm.” Eden complained as she couldn’t see the reason why her close friend was acting like this. 

“It’s because she has a crush on James Potter.” 

The room went silent and Lily went red and joined Eden with putting on the bed sheets for the two of them. 

Severus looked at the others to see them truly paying attention as to what was happening. It was like his life story was becoming more of a soap opera than anything else. His eyes lingered on the Potter spawn and for a moment, just a moment. He felt a wave of protection surge through him for the boy. 

“S-Sev, come on. You know I would never betray you like that.” Her perfect English accent, coming out stronger than ever. As if it was a reminder of where they really were. 

“What am I to say? It’s not as if he is unattractive. I cannot blame you.” Severus forced the words from his mouth as they sounded more posh than before. “However he’s a little bastard who thinks his daddy’s money will get him anywhere in life.” The black haired boy sneered, as he shoved the salty crisp into his mouth.

“James wasn’t the bastard, you were Snivvy!” Sirius argued as Harry paid no mind to him. 

“Yes but he has stopped those silly pranks that Sirus and him pulled on you.” Lily tried. 

“Oh yes, because that makes everything much better. Only bullied me for five years, ‘but now I want to get into someone’s pants so I must look like I can do good.’ Sounds like he really cares for you Lily.” Severus snarked back as he faced his back away from her. Lily huffed and layed down on the pillow and covered herself up with the blanket. “Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Awkward silence once again until Eden decided to break it up, “What do you call a pig that practises karate?

This time Daniel couldn’t hold his groan, “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Bitch I asked you a question.” Eden repeated with a threat. 

“What do you call it?” Daniel answered with his voice three octaves higher. 

“A pork chop.” Eden deadpanned before she started giggling at her own stupid joke. 

“That wasn’t funny.” Daniel rolled his eyes. “So just like you then?” Eden replied. 

“Because I am an excellent boyfriend, it is practically my job to be funny. Someone has to be.” Daniel yelped as Severus punched his stomach from not moving his face from the wall. 

“Well a good boyfriend should be like that regardless.” 

“Ay! Sev tell ‘em I’m a good boyfriend.” Daniel whined as he sent air kisses to him. 

“You’re alright, I suppose.” Severus shrugged as he wrapped his legs along Daniel. “Fuck you.” Daniel replied as he snuggled into Severus.

 The four of them laughed. The argument was long forgotten but never gone. It was just shoved underneath everything where later it could explode back into their faces. Severus waved a dragon heartstring wand over them and the lights turned off. The comfort of the rain falling casted them to sleep. The girls cuddled with one another and shared the heavier blanket. While the boys’ limbs were tangled in the early stages of slumber. 

The others thought that a new memory was going to flash by but they stayed there in the quiet room. It wasn’t until movement from the two boys that the order turned their attention back to it. 

Severus turned on his left side to face Daniel who was doing a poor job of sleeping, “Wake up, lover boy.” 

Daniel groaned and shoved his hands in Severus’ face. “Shut the fuck up! That was one time.” 

“But I can be your lover boy.” Severus continued on in a sing-song voice. “SEVERUS!” Daniel shoved his face into the other boy’s chest with his face turning a deep purple. “Promise me that you’ll write until I come back for Christmas?” Severus whispered in their bubble of peacefulness. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily. We aren’t a quick fuck.” Daniel reminded him as he lifted his chin and signalled for a kiss. Severus leaned down and met his lips there. They shared a passionate kiss and then Severus dragged Daniel into a cuddle. “I love you.” 

Severus wiped a tear that escaped from his eye and got off from the bed. He walked down the room as the others watched him. 

“Who would have thought Sniv had a boyfriend?” Sirius asked no one in particular. 

“Did my mom always curse like that?” Harry’s words left his lips before he could process the scene between Severus and this so-called Daniel. He was having trouble wanting to leave the pensieve or have the rare opportunity to stay and hopefully see more memories of his mother. Perhaps getting to know Professor Snape better too. Then again, Harry and his friends were fifteen and had never even touched drugs or alcohol, so clearly there were a few things to discover. 

“Severus.” Minerva’s hitched voice told him what he needed to know. “Yes, he is.” The clipped answer let the silent conversation between the two of them come to a rest. Minerva lowered her eyes and mumbled something under her breath that not even Albus could pick up. 

“What…what exactly are we going to see here? Obviously it is your childhood, but are you sure it’s even morally right for us to see?” Hermione spoke slowly, trying to make sense of what she just processed. Ron looked at her like she had a second head, the two boys agreed with one another that they wouldn’t be talking. It was too raw for them to even voice their opinions about their most hated Professor, and they wanted to keep it that way. 

“Miss Granger. Obviously,” Severus drew out his word like he had done in their previous year of Hogwarts. “The moral rights of someone disappear as soon as they join a cult or a group trying to defeat said cult.” His face twitched in a minor annoyance and led the others out of the room and there they were in some sort of park. 

The grass swayed around Severus and Daniel, who were lying with their heads touching and faced up to the sky. “I want to kill myself.”

“I know.” 

It faded back and suddenly the group was in another memory. 

The room had the cigarette smoke stained wallpaper peeling off so badly, you could see the original drywall and plaster. There was an old wooden table in the middle of the kitchen with a beat up refrigerator and a barely working stove. They had to flick a match underneath it for it to work properly. A handed down rug covered the splintered floors, not that the rug mattered. Everyone wore their shoes inside the house regardless. A familiar looking Eden, though looking much older and had an IV attached to her, was cursing at the stove and finally managed to catch a flame.“Eggs?”She asked in a way that wasn’t really asking. 

An older looking Daniel walked through and smiled at her while raising up two fingers. She nodded and cracked a few eggs into the pan and watched them fry. She peeled off the plastic from the fresh bacon she bought the night before. Once the eggs were done she flipped them, “Danny, mind watching the food? I’mma go talk to Sev and see if he gonna get out of his shell.” 

“I hope you have better luck than I did. I’m lucky I got out there with both of my shoes.” Daniel laughed but his face showed a different picture. 

Eden walked out the doorway of the kitchen and climbed up the old stairs while skipping a few of them and dragged her machine up the stairs. She shuffled her hands against each other and then closed her hand into a fist and raised it to knock on the door. “Sev, open the door.” 

“Leave me alone Eden.” His muffled voice came out through the tattered door. “I have nothing to say.”

“Maybe but you got to listen to me.” Eden slid against the door and brought her knees to her chest. She took a second to get her thoughts and breaths together. Everything was different and everything was going to change. “Sevvy, you gotta listen to me real close. ‘Cause I’m only gonna say this once.” She waited until she heard a sudden movement from the other side before continuing. “The fact that you are feeling guilty about whatever the fuck happened during school proves you better than whatever that bitch said.” 

“She is not a-” 

“I’m not done and yes she was. Just because we hung out together doesn’t mean that she’d really give Danny or I the time of day. Besides you see the looks she gives the two of you.” 

“It’s not her fault. That’s just how she was raised.” 

“Yeah, well you were raised to be a bastard but now you only act like one.” Eden knew that she was able to get a laugh from Severus when he went quiet. “Don’t push Danny out. I ain’t gonna be here any longer and I need to know my boys can do good without me.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“You know it’s true. Live on for me and take care of him.” Eden’s voice wandered around Severus’ head. 

The memory closed and the group was left in the dark while Severus was left staring in front of him. 

“When was that, sir?” Hermione’s weak voice spoke up as she fidgeted with her fingers. 

“1975, the same year as the last memory. Although that was during the summer after my fifth year.” 

Hermione hummed and dared to look Severus in the eyes. “Is that when you called Lily Potter a Mudblood?” There was no flinch in her tone of words nor did she let herself waver. 

Severus didn’t turn to her, “Yes.” 

Remus looked more meek and into himself which startled Seveus but paid no mind as his eyes wandered off to Sirius. His face was cold and stoic but his eyes always told a different story. There was a real rage that Severus hadn’t seen in years but there was also a sense of guilt and defeat. A sadness gleamed to them that made Severus’ stomach turn. He did not ever want to be put into the position of ever feeling sorry for one of the guys’ that made his life a living hell. However he knew how Lily left an impact on all of them and him calling her that disgusting, vile name was the cherry on top for the behaviour. 

Harry looked between the three adults but his face surprisingly didn’t give away anything. He saw the memory a few months ago of how his father and godfather hung Professor Snape underside down and was laughing like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing, it was sexual assault and no one batted an eye at that. Not even his own mother who had laughed at her best friend before he called her that disgusting, vile word. 

An owl’s hoot interrupted Harry’s thoughts as he faced in front of him. 

“Oi Sev! A birdie’s here for ya!” Daniel’s deeper voice rang out as he cleared the cluttered table away from the old bills and paperwork. They were sitting in the kitchen of Severus’ house and the light above them was turned off. The sun peeking from the old, ratty curtains lit the overview of the table. 

“Alright I’m coming.” Severus shouted back from somewhere else in the house. 

“Y’a I know you were...” Daniel laughed to himself as he lit his fag and took a puff. 

Severus ran down the stairs with his hair half dried and his shirt backwards. “You fucker, I thought someone was here. I could have put my shirt on properly.” 

“Next time don’t let me fuck you in the middle of the day.” Daniel smugly said as he let out a cloud of smoke in Severus’ face. 

Ron pulled a face and Molly and Arthur looked at Severus closely. “How come you don’t curse nowadays, Sir?” Tonks asked as her hair turned shorter and pointy. 

“I have to keep up the facade.” Severus simply answered. 

“Get that out of here.” Severus whisked his hand back and forth before he took a seat next to Daniel. “At least smoke the good one.” 

“Shut up.” 

Severus laughed and turned his attention to the owl and used his wand to take the letter attached to her off. He unscrolled the letter and rolled his eyes fondly when he saw the Malfoy crest at the bottom. The wax looked fresh, meaning whatever was in this letter was urgent. 

No one but Daniel and Severus knew what was in the letter and Hermione looked disappointed that she couldn’t read it. Albus had a distance, nostalgic look in his eyes as he turned to Severus, who was watching the scene unfold in front of him. 

Severus’ eyes widened and he turned to his boyfriend, “Dan.” Severus passed the letter to him and watched the cigarette fall out his mouth. “Sevvy.” Daniel took a deep breath and looked at him, “Whatchu gonna do?” 

“I need the money…besides it would just be a few higher end potions, ain’t like it's hard.” Severus lowered his voice and his head on the table while Daniel wandlessly and wordlessly summoned a pen for his boyfriend. “Take it and then cut it off. Yer Da fucked you up with that thing that happened last year and you don’t need more stress. I’m takin’ a couple of more shifts from the store, so you can have the house all day for them potions. Understand?” Daniel listed off as he handed the pen off to Severus. 

The other looked at Daniel with disbelief, “Dan, I can’t ask you of that.” 

“Good thing you ain’t.” Daniel stood up from his seat and pressed a kiss on Severus’ slightly sweaty head and wandered off, leaving Severus with the decision. 

Not thinking too hard, Severus let out a sigh of breath and wrote a brief letter back. Saying how he appreciated the opportunity and wanted to start as soon as possible. He needed to make it up for Eden, he promised her. 

“You were forced?” Sirius couldn’t stop the words from coming out his mouth and felt very conflicted. 

“Not at first.” Severus replied, leaving no room for questions. He knew after the last few memories he would have to explain everything. 

Flashes of the past formed in front of them, ranging from young Severus and Lily hanging in an old looking park or a younger Eden giving Daniel and Severus a thumbs up as she walked into the office in the fancy hospital. Scenes of Severus playing piano and singing in a club, wearing eyeliner or punk clothes played. Secret dates between Severus and Daniel, them swimming in the river or running away from an older man who looked to be Severus’ father. Lazy mornings of Seveus and Daniel in post bliss while naked. The two making out in some alleyway. Singing on the streets while carrying half-filled bottles of cheap whiskey.  Severus cries over the corpse of his mother, switching straight to a jail cell and then another funeral with the blurry name of Eden Wilderberry. However, after laughter and melancholy switched and overlapped each other, the headache from everyone came to a stop when they stood in Severus' childhood home. This time Severus looked just as he did now, perhaps a few years younger. 

The broken doorbell gave a pathetic ring before it fuzzed out. Severus, who was washing the dishes-muggle style, flicked his wand up his sleeve and headed for the door. He opened it after looking through the peephole and seeing someone wearing a full black suit with badges pinned to their left hand breast pocket. Dread creeped onto every bone in Severus’ body and he went weak in the knees. He knew that three weeks without hearing from Daniel was strange but thought nothing of it. He plastered a fake smile and opened the door, “How can I help you?” Thankfully he was wearing the only pair of muggle clothes that didn’t have holes in it. Force of habit. 

“Are you Mr. Swan? Daniel Thomas Swan’s brother?” The man asked in a posh voice as he held his composure. 

Severus blinked before nodding his head, “Yes I am.” He’s sure that Daniel spelled someone to not question the fact that Severus was pale as snow while Daniel was dark chocolate.  However his thoughts feld when he noticed a few more in full uniform soldiers coming out of a limousine. They had the Great Britain flag folded up and a blank face. “Why?” That one word tore his life apart especially with how choked up he got. “What’s happening?” And yet he was fully aware, hence why his guard was done and tears were threatening to fall. 

“No..” Molly gasped as she put her hands over her mouth and looked to Severus with tears. 

“Mr. Swan, I apologise.” The soldier bowed his head and continued on, “Your brother was a great man and an even better soldier. He led his squadron through an airstrike mission and they got striked down. He left a letter, we will be back in two weeks with all his personal belongings and all finances set for the funeral. Many blessings and may God watch over you.” The soldier handed off the letter as the others made their way to the door and gave him the flag and saluted him. One by one, they marched off into the limo and drove away.  

Severus numbly closed the door and fell to his knees. His eyes became clouded with tears and he couldn’t think straight, not anymore. He was wishing this was a joke. For once in his life he wished this was a cruel joke they were playing on him. He couldn’t let out any sound but he pushed his head to the dirty floor and rocked back and front clutching the letter in his hands, the flag discarded somewhere else. He was shaking and couldn’t stop, the pain he knew wouldn’t stop. A raw scream ripped from his throat and the tears couldn’t stop. It was too excruciating. 

A gasp brought the teary eyes off the scene in front of them and forced them to face Severus. Minerva pulled him into a hug where he let his hair cover his face and the others turned their eyes back to the scene. Albus looked on with no expression. 

Severus slowly turned on his back with his face looking horrible, snot and tears covered his face and he turned to the letter in his hand. He brought it up to his face and slowly unpeeled it and unfolded it. 

Suddenly the memory changed the point of view and they were able to read the letter that Daniel left to Severus. 

Sevvy, 

I’d think you would be proud that I am able to write correctly instead of how I sound with my accent. No one appreciates the northern culture in these posh parts. The Slavics are getting crazy and on the news with those basketball players in the states and their scandal is not helping. The air feels nice but I cannot wait until you are in my arms again or my cock is buried in your arse. Sorry, it seems that I am getting off track. I want you to know that I love you more than there are stars in the sky, more than the fags that I smoke, more than my whole entire existence. However, writing this with the intention that you are reading this, brings a pain to myself that I haven’t felt in over thirty years. You came into my life and nothing has ever been the same for the better. Through the deaths, trauma, torture, failed therapy sessions, and mini music careers, we have shared…I would never choose differently. I will always choose you like you have always chosen me. I could write a whole novel, a whole series about you that will never end. but I want to keep this short and small. (I will send you the journals I’ve kept over here) Remember the promise the three of us made when we were just five years old? We cannot leave without a bang? I have done more with you than I ever thought was possible. You truly brought the light back into my life (not just because you are white) and I could never repay you for this. Promise me Sevvy, that you will not give up. Fight until the end and make sure you kill that Voldemort bastard for me? Just a little..or a lot. I’m in the air force now Sev, I can authorise this type of shit. I love you forever and always. 

Yours truly, 

Daniel T. Swan 

Severus blinked and lifted his head from Minerva and suddenly everything went black. The group found themselves back in the dining room in Grimmauld Place. Molly looked towards her grandfather clock with the enchantments built in and noticed it was almost three in the morning. “Severus.” Her silent apology was appreciated as she looked at him with Arthur behind. “I will see you all at the next meeting, the children must be heading to bed.” It was a weak excuse but Severus was grateful for it. 

“Ah yes Molly. Please forgive me.” Albus turned on his grandfather's tone and bid them a good evening as they walked out the room and headed upstairs to their rooms. Soon enough, everyone made their own excuses to leave Albus and Severus alone. Sirius couldn’t have waited any longer before he fled with Remus giving Severus a sad smile and headed along with the other. Minerva pressed a kiss on Severus’ cheek and wished him ‘a good night’ as well while she glared at Albus. Then it was two. 

“Take a seat, my boy.” Albus’ voice travelled from one ear to the other as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“I would rather stand. Actually, I would rather ask you. What the fuck do you think that you are so much as intitled to? You ask me to spy on you? Fine, I did it with no issues. But asking me to completely expose myself in front of these people? I’ve never wanted anyone to ever know about Daniel, and now what happens if any of them gets captured? The Dark Lord would violate their minds and then everything you’ve built for is gone because he’ll know that I have a weakness and will kill me. And then Lily’s son will be doomed because I just fuck everything up!” Albus watched as Severus ranted as he stroked his beard and his thoughts wandered. 

There was no doubt this was true, however Albus couldn’t find it in him to care. “I care for you, Severus. You know that I have for these last couple of years. However I wanted you to be free of all troubles that you’ve kept for yourself. I know that it isn’t easy losing someone that you’ve loved-”

“Love. I still love him and that will never stop.” Severus interrupted as he took a seat next to Albus and played with a necklace underneath the layers of robes he wore. Severus didn’t want to hear the old man’s excuses or pity. “Did you know that we were supposed to be married that year?” Of course he wouldn’t have known but what else could Severus say. 

“We were going to be married and I found out that he was killed on July 7th of 1992.” Severus got up and headed to leave, “Today was the third anniversary since his death and you have stolen any fond memories that I could have of him.” 

Silence accompanied Albus as Severus left with his grief and pain. Something in today had broken between the two of them and it wouldn’t be until a few years down the line that Albus realised what. 

[bonefall]

Ok, I decided I might as well put out that Hollyleaf ask I mentioned. So I was thinking about your Hollyleaf and how while I love some aspects of her and think they are preferable to canon, there feels like there's something that I liked missing in her relative to canon Hollyleaf that I have suggestions on how you reincorporate. So what I really like: I love how you give Hollyleaf a political arc, with her constant musings on Clan life and the world being actually relevant to the narrative and her clearly going from one position to another based on her life experience, as opposed to canon where she's open-minded and fascinated by other cultures when the plot requires it and then a super conservative rule follower who believes the Clans' way of life is the only legitimate one when the plot requires that, without any clear arc of going from one place to another.

But one thing I like about canon Hollyleaf that I feel is missing from yours is the way she is a complete wreck by the end - she can't stand her birth being against the code, she can't stand the life she's build being broken, her guilt over murdering someone to make those feelings go away only drives her further into her broken mental state and leads her to ironically undoing the very thing she killed for. She is despairing about having any sort of purpose to her life, about being evil herself even as she tries to convince herself she is a hero doing what's right and thus has a right to punish everyone, and she runs away to get away from it all. And I feel like the fire scene (perhaps with the help of previous events) destroying the foundations of what she's built her life on has more of an impact than just her calmly, philosophically deciding "all right, I'm mad at my parents, I choose revenge and evil now".

All of which is to say, I had some ideas I wanted to suggest on how these aspects could be preserved in your Hollyleaf, which is incorporating some of a Hollyleaf AU I made myself adapted to your world. Since in Bonefall AU she learns about the prophecy at the same time she learns about her parentage, it could be both revelations that really impact her. She's always seen herself as the hero, wanting to be a medicine cat because that's the position where she gets to save people and be important and everyone appreciates her for it for example. And she's always wanted to be the good Clan cat who serves and is beloved by StarClan, even if she has varied on whether she wanted to do it by following Firestar's example and ideology or something else. So maybe finding out about the prophecy makes her horrified - she's some kind of abomination that exists beyond StarClan, who StarClan is terrified of, and in her mind that makes her evil, an abomination against the ancestors she loves and worships destined to destroy everything good. Then when you add to this her arc of diplomacy and Fire Alone going wrong, maybe it could not just be a sense of betrayal in play but also guilt; her diplomatic attitude resulted in something bad happening to someone else and she was already dealing with feelings of being bad and horrible for that which her ego and belief she had to be a hero couldn't take. And then there's how her parentage ties into this - while the rule wasn't originally about this, I would imagine in your rewrite the kits of medicine cats would have a cultural connotation of being cursed, evil, abominations from the fact that all of them in recent memories had been leaders who ended up in the Dark Forest (Ripplestar, Brokenstar, Leopardstar), so this could add to these feelings and maybe feel she should punish Leafpool for creating kits like her that would destroy the Clans and punish Squirrelflight for covering it up so the Clans didn't know the danger in their midst.

But of course, she can't take thinking of herself as wrong and evil, so her shame causes her to break down further and take drastic actions to punish everyone who did wrong before StarClan as if in her zeal she can make it up to them, prove that despite her birth and "curse" she can still be StarClan's favored "adopted child", and make up for the harm her previous "evil" support of Fire Alone has caused. Maybe if she punishes Leafpool hard enough she will defy her "fate".

And then you add in Sol, who is the antithesis of what she believes but yet seems to have some kind of connection with her, and maybe Sol plays on her feelings of shame and anger to try to get her to do what he wants. Then by Hollyleaf's Century, realizing she has Sol's powers now puts her even deeper into that state of feeling she has to make up for something, and now she thinks she will prove her nobility and heroism to StarClan by saving them all from their environmental destruction, showing she's such a loyal servant to them by implementing the Clans' way of life, the only good way of life, decades early, and never making the mistakes she's made in the past! Then maybe she wouldn't have to feel she is an abomination anymore, maybe she can make up for existing. All of which ironically plays into just what Sol wanted.

She could be contrasted with Jayfeather where she realizes with the benefit of 100 years of hindsight that her brother didn't care about pleasing StarClan, that he accepted his existence was in defiance of it and proudly committed sacrilege (so she knows about this, maybe he could confess what happened with Hazeltail to Hollyleaf thinking she would understand due to their shared experience with the prophecy, only for her to criticize him and want him punished, leading him to realize how much she changed) - and yet he was a better and more truly heroic cat than she ever was. And this helps slowly push her out of her mindset. Not sure how Bonefall Lionblaze plays into this since he seems a bit too similar to Hollyleaf in his reaction to having powers, though.

So what do you think of these suggestions for Hollyleaf?

They sound great! I think Cruel Season is coming together.

Cruel Season is going to be a book between the episodic Po3 and the narrative-driven OotS, where the majority of Holly's breakdown is contained. It bridges the gap between the casual tone of Po3 and the serious one of OotS. Here's the plan;

The prophecy is revealed at the end of Po3, and Cruel Season opens up with the three grappling with it.

This sets the stage for the following;

Hollyleaf worrying she is an abomination because StarClan is terrified of her,

Lionblaze concerned for what this means in terms of how he will protect ThunderClan if he is so powerful he could destroy it, and

Jayfeather confirming to himself that StarClan is full of assholes, telling his siblings that he fought Molefall to save Hazeltail.

ASHFUR LEARNS TOO, and puts together that the Fire and Tiger prophecy + Kin of your Kin prophecy = Disaster

This, plus the death of Brackenfur in the previous arc, causes Holly to start isolating herself. She doesn't know what to think. She's supposed to be a hero, a prodigy, but what does that mean if StarClan is already terrified of her?

There must be something else they know that she doesn't. And her siblings... Jayfeather IS a problem to them, isn't he?

But that's still her brother. Cracks are starting to form but she's not gone yet. This is when Sol pops back up, offering to be someone to talk to.

Harry is thinking this is for more manipulation, Sol itself is taking an interest in a possible new vessel as he grows bored.

This time, the Fire is NOT random. Unknown to the Three, this is a Dark Forest plot.

Thornclaw (knows the territory), Whiskernose (established as knowing how to manage fires in TNP), and Breezepelt (breezepelt) are creating a diversion so they can murder Firestar

Regardless, the Three are caught in it. Ashfur makes his infamous move, cue The Fire Scene

I mentioned before how it goes in the rewrite, but here is is again for newcomers, those who missed it, and people who want a refresher;

BONEFALL FIRE SCENE

The Three are trapped in the blaze, Squirrelflight appears and is trying to kick a weak tree over so they can escape

Ashfur: "I CANT LET YOU DO THAT SQUIRRELFLIGHT"

They have a fight, Ashfur shouting about the prophecy, Fire and Tiger + Kin of your Kin = they are fated to destroy the clans, if Squilf has chosen him this never would have happened

Squilf is pinned, but reveals with passion, "BRAMBLECLAW'S KITTENS ARE DEAD, THESE AREN'T MINE"

Ashfur is confused just enough that she's able to muster a massive kick, sending him flying into the weak tree, knocking it over

Lionblaze races across this tree to help Squilf, smacking Ashfur across the face

It's a Moment, Lionblaze seeing his mentor both furious and terrified of him, blood on his claws

Ashfur absconds, leaving the Three with Squilf

Now this next part is important and is a big change of motivation from canon; I want it to be clear that Holly killing Ashfur is 100% her REVENGE. It's not about safety, nor about keeping the secret. So here's how it goes;

The blood on Lionblaze's paw, Squirrelflight’s wounds, and the absence of Ashfur is DEFINITIVE PROOF he tried to murder them

Brambleclaw, the deputy and defacto leader because Firestar is missing, is furious and declares that if Ashfur is seen on ThunderClan territory, he is to be considered a rogue and to be brought to justice.

Ferncloud, Cloudtail, and the rest of Ashfur's associates are shocked.

Birchfall may try to ask "are you SURE?" But immediately regrets it, seeing the haunted look in their eyes.

Especially Lionblaze, Ashfur's apprentice. He's devastated.

When Hollyleaf hunts Ashfur down later, she is IGNORING the order to bring him to justice.

But before that happens... they discover the body of Firestar.

His throat is torn out. It's immediately assumed that Ashfur did it.

"He wanted to hurt Squirrelflight so badly he settled for her father..." -Ferncloud

Hollyleaf alone realizes that he had black fur in his claws during his vigil later...

And she removes it.

She speaks to Sol about this and he tells her that it was surely an omen.

It means SHE is responsible in some way.

She agrees and adds,

"I'll do what has to be done, I will prove I'm worthy! I'll exact justice on everyone who needs it, this black-furred killer, Ashfur, and the one who broke the code and set these events into motion with my birth"

Sol: "oh my me this woman is crazy i need to possess her"

Lionblaze remains very close with Squirrelflight, getting more of the truth from her. Hes confused and upset, but, accepts that she did it to protect them and Leafpool... even though he doesn't Get It yet.

(Squilf is always his mom and he has no doubt about this)

Jayfeather really doesn't want to hear it, having independently worked out that the only other parent they could have is Leafpool (since this wouldn't be a Federal Fucking Issue if it was Cloudtail) and... that evokes a lot of negative emotions.

Buuuuuuuuuut all this turmoil starts causing him to lean on Poppyfrost for escapism. He leans on her too hard and she got pregnant. JayFUMBLE.

Hollyleaf kills Ashfur. Raggedy from living on his own for several weeks, missing his Clan, hoping to face justice and find mercy for being unsuccessful, it wasn't a fight. It was a murder.

(This is important for TBC later, as Ashfur is allowed into Silverpelt over this while also making sure that StarClan isn't accidentally incompetent like canon)

Next on Hollyleaf's list; Leafpool

The Reveal at the Gathering happens

Bramblestar IMMEDIATELY demotes Squirrelflight from her deputy role for covering this up, breaks up with her, and disowns his children.

Assures the gathering that there will be consequences for Leafpool, and promotes Thornclaw to deputyship on the spot.

Jayfeather is now the only Cleric of ThunderClan.

Breezepelt, who was tense but friendly with the Three, has declared them his enemies because Crowfeather CAVED IMMEDIATELY and admitted he loved Leafpool, embarrassing him in public AGAIN by making it clear he was not wanted

"They're the reason he treats me like this! They're disgusting! They shouldn't have been born! I thought they were my friends but they were actually part of my torment!"

ThunderClan IMMEDIATELY starts treating the Three differently, because they are halfclan and cleric children

Lionblaze suddenly understands what Squilf meant by, "I did it to protect my sister, but also to protect the three of you"

"Sometimes keeping secrets is Good Actually," concludes Lionblaze

Opinions are split about Squilf and Leafpool,

"Squilf was protected by the Queen’s Rights"

"Leafpool still broke the code tho"

"That should have stayed between her and StarClan, she did the right thing"

"That law is stupid anyway!"

"Uhhh no it's not? Brokenstar? Ripplestar? Leopardstar? Helloo??"

"Are you saying Squilf's kids are tyrants? What is wrong with you?"

"I'm saying you don't respect the code you heathen!"

"She still lied to Bramblestar and needs consequences!"

"A halfclan cat is a halfclan cat! It was revealed and we must deal with it!"

ThunderClan is fighting, basically.

Holly has her scene later of trying to get Leafpool to eat deathberries, like canon Leaf is a queen who's like, "...girl you can't hurt me more than I already am"

And this is the point where Poppyfrost realizes she is pregnant. They're Jayfeather's. He is the only Cleric in ThunderClan, Poppyfrost does not want to be a single mother, it's a mess.

So they contact Cinderheart and Lionblaze and ask for help. They agree-- but preparing for the arrival of the kittens means they'd need to start saying they're mates.

Cinderheart: "hey uh Hollyleaf I'm, uh, mates with your brother now?"

Hollyleaf:

"Youre McFuckinf What?"

Cindy, unable to keep a secret and not really being in love with Lionblaze, admits there are kits she needs to adopt. Hollyleaf does more deduction and jumps to the correct conclusion, Poppyfrost is pregnant because Jayfeather has violated his vow.

And she's going to do something about this.

Sol offers his services. Friendship ENDED with Harry; now HOLLYLEAF is my best friend.

Jayfeather needs to be dealt with. He has disobeyed StarClan for the last time

As he slips into the Tunnels to communicate with Rock, she follows him, planning to kill him quietly

Lionblaze intercepts this, defending Jay.

"What happened to my sister?! Hollyleaf, this isn't you!"

"A black cat killed Firestar, and I've killed that black cat! Soon I will put an end to all enemies of the Warrior Code!"

"What does that MEAN"

The fighting destabilizes the tunnel, Lionblaze is able to push Jayfeather out just in time before the rockslide

Sol saves Hollyleaf's life by teleporting her 100 years into the past, so that she isn't killed by the collapse.

Lionblaze is a tank and rocks can't kill him, when the Clan digs him out, he's just bruised and unconscious

They never find Hollyleaf's body, or any remains at all. Not even blood.

The book ends with the birth of Ivykit and Dovekit, tension settling over the entire family, pain and mourning all at once. They chose not to tell anyone about Hollyleaf's betrayal, allowing her to die as a hero.

Cinderheart admits she still loves her, and misses her with her whole heart. Lionblaze can't understand why it happened. Jayfeather is expressing his pain through anger. Poppyfrost wants to put this behind her as soon as possible.

And thus ends Cruel Season, and begins Omen of the Stars.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[artheresy]

Damn, apparently they replaced Argenti and Tail's va and it's been found out through the official website as opposed to any official announcement, I hope they at least make an official post later