#I couldn’t even be productive or focus in my classes when I was sick

[meowthiroth]

have people learned NOTHING over the past couple years. jfc

[marionwritesstuff]

Hurting - Max Verstappen x Reader

prompt: Max's dad is sick and he's coming to terms with his childhood trauma while lashing out on you, his girlfriend.

disclaimer: i'm completely making this up, take no reality from it.

"Max, you can't just fucking leave," you pleaded, following your F1 driver boyfriend around your shared flat.

"Yes I can," he hissed. You felt the anger steaming off of him.

It was halfway into the race season and Max finally had a weekend off and he had just gotten home. However, Max got a whopping 8th in Austria - Red Bull's home race. He was immensely disappointed in himself and, while blaming his own shortcomings, he blamed y/n for being a "distraction".

You knew, however, that his anger and his low performance on the track wasn't due to your relationship, but due to his dad's recent health troubles.

Max and his father, Jos, have always had a complicated relationship. Max was the eldest son, the racer bound to take the torch from his old man. Max loved racing, he really did, but sometimes the pressure his father put on him was too great. He was regularly berated if he didn't at least podium, and even then a silver or bronze was never good enough for the head of the Verstappen household. Soon, winning became a necessity to Max. By winning, he'd win his father's approval.

Now, he was one of the best drivers on the grid, on his way to winning his first F1 championship. Although their relationship was rocky Max depended on his father. Besides you, the one person he needed to see after each race was his father. Jos would give him advice, critique his steering and braking, all to help Max become a better driver - to reach feats he never did.

And now, in front of you, you saw the product of a boy, about to lose his father, the one person that loved him and supported him, but also made his childhood hell. Instead of figuring out his own internal issues, he lashed them out onto you. It wasn't the first time, and you knew it wasn't a result of his lack of love for you, but of his pain.

"Max, please," you touched his shoulder, only for him to wince as you quickly pulled it away. "Please, you know I love you, you know I'd never do anything to hurt you, please, just talk to me," you begged.

He stopped in his tracks, his bag full of clothes in hand. "Just... leave me alone." And with that, he walked out the door, leaving you cold and lonely in your once shared space.

-- a few weeks later

Sitting in what used to be yours and Max's flat, you typed away at your computer, finishing up an essay due for your Masters class. But soon, you found yourself thinking of Max; your head nestled against his broad chest, hearing his deep breaths during his naps before races.

You had tried your very best to keep him off your mind for the past few weeks. You sunk yourself into school, even completing essays weeks before they were due, but no matter what you did you couldn't stop thinking about Max freaking Verstappen. You were, and have always been, hooked.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked through the peephole only to see the man himself, Max, waiting anxiously at your door. Taking a few deep breaths, you opened it.

"Hi Max," you said sheepishly, tugging at your hoodie, one that, in that moment, you realized was actually his.

"y/n, can we talk? Please," he asked with desperation. You knew there was no saying "no" to his puppy dog eyes. Stepping aside, you gestured to let him in.

You both sat down on the couch, maintaining your distance from one another.

"y/n, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I should never have let my anger out on you, or blamed me losing on you." He reached for your hands, which you gave, and held them tightly as he stared down, ashamed to meet your eyes. "My dad, you know how he was, well, I guess not all of who he was..." he trailed off.

You knew this was a touchy subject and didn't push him. Even though you and Max had been dating for nearly a year, he barely talked about his father. And when he did, it was clouded in shame and hurt.

He continued, "He always wanted what he thought was best for me, even if it meant going against what I needed when I was a kid." I could hear his voice breaking and I scooted closer, trying to show him my physical support. "When he went into the hospital I just couldn't focus - on anything. Not on you, on racing, nothing. I just... I broke. And I thought blaming it on you would make it easier or make it go away but it didn't. It stayed and it sucked and god every single time anything good or anything bad happened to me I wanted to run to tell you, but you weren't there. And I hated it, I hated it so fucking much."

He looked up, staring deeply into my eyes this time. "I need you, please, please, baby come back to me - let me come back to you." He waited for anything from you, a nod or a word or anything.

Your body couldn't resist comforting his pain, of being there for him and being his person. You closed the distance between you two, enveloping Max in a deep hug. His head rested on your shoulder as you heard him let out a big sigh. "I've missed you so much, god I hated not having you around," you whispered into the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry, so so sorry..." Max repeated, drawing circles on my back with his hand.

I moved away just slightly so my face was aligned with his. "Can we just... go back to normal? Just for right now? Can you just... hold me?"

And without hesitation, he embraced me in his warm presence. In that moment, I felt whole.

[marrys-dream-world]

Imposter

Read on AO3

Summary:  Adrien's mother is kind and sweet and loving. The only problem is that it isn't her at all.

Notes: This is based off on this post by @infinitysgrace and a post athat I can’t find anymore, but was about how Emilie’s eye color could be wrong in the wishmaker flashback because it wasn’t her, it was a sentimonster. I took some liberties with sentimonster lore because I’m not 100% sure about all that, but I think it turned out well. 

One of Adrien’s earliest memories is of crying. 

He was young, perhaps three or four, and his room was blurry through his tears. When he grew older, he would get used to his father’s insistence that a night light was coddling Adrien, but at the moment, all he knew was the darkness surrounding him. The room was too big and his bed was in the middle of it, the light from the huge windows playing shadows that tricked his eyes. So he started crying, hoping it would call his parent’s attention and that they would come to him.

(When he grew older, he would learn that crying was useless.)

He felt more than saw his mother coming in, leaving the door open in a crack of light. Her arms wrap around him and she hums soothingly, the sound filling up his chest. She’s warm and smells sweet, like her favorite lavender perfume. He sinks into her, tears drying and sobs reducing to whines. He has tired himself out with that and would probably fall asleep even if left alone, but his mother doesn’t leave. She tucks him in and stays as his eyes close.

The last thing he sees are her wide blue eyes. 

-

Both his parents have drastic mood changes, but Adrien would say that his mother is the most prominent example of this. His father is usually just stoic and, if Adrien pushes him enough, gets annoyed with him. At worst, he’ll get angry and rage at Adrien, calmed down only by his mother’s calm words as she diverts his attention so Adrien can get away. His mother, though, always feels like whiplash.

“Why can’t I go with you?” Adrien, aged seven, asks his mother. He’s sitting on her bed as she packs her bag for another trip with his father. He stopped keeping count of them after the fifth. 

“You’re too young, baby.” She said and even the pet name didn’t stop the sting from her dismissive tone. “Next time, okay?”

He bits back a ‘you said that last time, too’. 

“But I’m already- “

“Adrien.” His mother chides, frowning. Her (disappointed) green eyes held him down. “I said you could stay here with me if you weren't going to be disruptive. Can’t you behave, just this once?”

He swallows back a lump in his throat. “I-I’m sorry, mother.”

But she already turned her back to him and packed the rest of her bag in silence. His mother leaves out her customary goodbye kiss when she leaves for the trip. He isn’t allowed downstairs to see them go and Nathalie insists it isn't a punishment, even though it feels like it. Adrien mopes in his room, not feeling up to enjoy his free day, no tutors or photoshoots, when all he can think about is his mother.

That’s why he’s taken back when she walks in his room.

“Mother?” He gaps, unable to hide his surprise. “I thought you left. Aren’t you going to miss your trip?!”

“I changed my mind, Adrien. Your father and I decided that the trip would be more productive with just him.” She said, eyes warm. Adrien always thought it was beautiful how her eyes could look blue or green, depending on the light. 

“But why?” He asked. She had been so excited for the trip!

“To stay with my precious son, of course.” His mother said, taking him into her arms.

All his questions evaporated right then and there. 

-

After their last trip, his parents decided to take a break from traveling. To network, his father informed him, which meant more boring family dinners and stiff ties. His mom always tuts when he complains about it, so he stays silent this time. At least it’s a dinner with Chloé, his best friend, and her family, so he and her are really only required to have dinner and then they can go off and play in the hotel rooms. 

“Arnold- “ Mrs. Bourgeois starts during dinner, before being nervously corrected by her husband.

“It’s Adrien, dear.”

“Oh right, Adrien. You grew up really well, you look more like your mother everyday.” Other people say it gushing, followed by a ‘so cute’ and pinches to the cheek. Mrs. Bourgeois says it like it’s a fact she approves of; Chloé even copies the small nod her mother makes. “You have her eyes.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t think so.” He says as politely as he can, but everyone in the table still throws him confused glances.

“You don’t think you look like your mother?” His father asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adrien shook his head. “No, I just don’t think I have her eyes. Mother’s eyes are blue and green and mine are just green.”

The Bourgeois family looks at him like he grew a second head. His parents, however, become tense all of sudden.

“Emilie, Gabriel, I think your son might be colorblind.” Mrs. Bourgeois says dryly and Adrien waits for his parents to come to his defense. They don’t. 

“Maybe. You know how children are.” His mother says, lightly. “I love your hat, Audrey. Is it new?”

The topic changes to Audrey’s new fashion exploits and Adrien and Chloé are finally allowed to go play. 

(Nathalie takes him to an eye doctor Mr. Bourgeois recommended the next day. The colorblind tests come back as negative.)

-

At age eight, Adrien was already used to working on fashion shows for his father’s brand. It didn’t make them easier to go through, however. 

It’s a summer one, this time, and his clothes are light and airy and his skin felt itchy and hot in the air conditioned cat walk. Looking at the bright lights around him hurt and the camera felt like it was looking uncomfortably deep into his soul. Was it too obvious that he wanted to run away? The crowd claps everytime he comes and everyone is smiling. Except for his father. 

After the show, his father spends the rest of the ride in silence as his mother tries to defuse the heavy tension that permeated the air with small talk and gushing compliments about the clothes and Adrien’s performance. It falls flat as she hardly looks like she’s up for talking, dark shadows under her eyes and skin paler than usual. Whenever Adrien asks her if she’s sick, she denies. As soon as they arrive home, he drags Adrien from the car towards the house, grip strong on his left upper arm. 

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me in front of everyone, Adrien?” His father asked calmly, but his hand tightened on his arm. 

Adrien couldn’t speak. It felt like it was happening to someone else, his mind weirdly detached from the situation. The only thing stopping him from floating away was the pain in his arm. 

“That’s enough, Gabriel.” He heard his mother, voice muffled. It felt like he was underwater in the pool and she was speaking from far away. Her hand, though, he felt acutely as she extricated his father’s hand from his arm. “Adrien, go, please.”

He runs away without second thought, only pausing guiltily at leaving his mother with his irate father when he starts hearing his father’s screaming. Adrien hides under the blankets in his room, heart racing long after the noise stops as he tries to focus his mind into anything else. He startles when he feels a hand touching his blanket cocoon. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby.” He hears his mother’s voice and frantically tears his blanket away. 

Adrien relaxes as he looks into her wide blue eyes and comforting smile, trying to leap for a hug. She stops him. 

“Let me see your arm first.” She says and he reluctantly takes off his jacket, wincing. The bruise on his arm doesn’t look pretty, so it’s for the best that he doesn’t go out much after fashion shows. “I can’t believe I let you get hurt.”

Her tone is soft and she looks, weirdly enough, genuinely confused as she touches the bruise on his arm and coos in apology as he flinches. 

“Father is just stressed.” Adrien parrots back his mother’s usual spiel after his dad does something less than exemplary. “It’s just how she is, it’s okay.”

"It 's not okay.” His mother says right away. “I’m supposed to not let anything hurt you, Adrien.” 

She says that with such a passion that he can believe she actually means it. But instead of the elation he expected when he heard it, all he felt was a surge of anger. Because why now? After all those moments when she scolded him for avoiding his father or not looking him in the eye, why now?

“There isn’t anything we can do about it, is there?.” He snaps, echoing her words to him from what felt like yesterday. 

She deflated. “I’m sorry. There isn’t.”

-

His father went away from a trip again and his mother, once again, decided to stay. 

Spending time with his mother during father’s trip was great, especially since she was in such a good mood and looking much healthier than she did these days. She lets him have an extra scoop of ice cream for dessert as soon as Nathalie turns her back on them, she spends the whole day playing with him in the garder, she helps with his homework and makes him a snack between classes. They play the piano together, making up different tunes and giggling. 

“Don’t I have to practice this?” He asked, pointing to the sheets of the classical song he was supposed to learn. 

His mother wrinkled her nose.

“You already work too hard, Adrien, it’s nice to have some fun once in a while.” She said, twisting her wedding ring on her finger. She usually didn’t wear it when spending time with him, only when she spent time with father, so it caught his attention. “Besides, nobody has to know.” 

They watch a movie he picked that night. His mother rarely did that and when she did, she was very picky about it. Artist stuff, he supposed. This time he got to choose, though, and he picked on based on a manga he liked, Astroboy. His mother seemed excited in the beginning, but her mood quickly subdued as the movie went on. 

“Are you not liking it?” He whispered to her and she shook her head.

“I am, baby, don’t worry. Are you?”

“Yeah. It's not really like the manga, but I like it.” He said. “I just think it’s a little unfair, you know. How he doesn’t know he isn’t really the scientist’s son, that he’s just a robot.”

His mother’s arms tighten around him. “I don’t think it’s unfair.”

“Really?” Adrien watched as the images from the screen played on his mother’s blue eyes.

“Really.” She repeated. “Him knowing would be crueler.”

-

At age ten, Adrien is awakened on a rainy night by his mother shaking him.

It was the night his father was supposed to come back from a trip and he had spent a fun day with his mother, studying and playing (“You need both to be a healthy boy, Adrien!” She grinned at him and he beamed back at her). His mother had looked a little skittish earlier, looking over her shoulder often only to just find Natahalie and fidgeting with the ring on her hand, that she usually wore every time his father was traveling. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong and insisted she hadn’t been sick. Nevertheless, he worried. 

“Mother, what’s wrong?” He asked, sleepiness fading away as he noticed how frantic she looked. 

“Adrien, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Every moment I’ve been conscious, it’s been on my mind. Can you trust me?” She asked him, stroking his head with the hand that wore her wedding ring, and he nodded. “I need you to pack a small bag and come with me, okay? We’re going on a trip, just you and me.”

“A trip?” It was all he ever wanted, but the look in his mother’s blue eyes made him hesitate. “Is everything okay?”

“No, baby.” She said, kissing the top of his head. “But it will be. Hurry up, I need you to pack while I handle some things. Meet me downstairs in five minutes, okay?”

With anyone else, even his father, he would have asked more questions. This was his beloved mother, though, so he just got up and started to pack his clothes and some of his stuff that he couldn’t do a few days without. He carefully closed his door, running down the stair and to his mother by the door. She looked damp, her outfit changed and an umbrella hanging by her feet along with some bags. 

“Adrien?” She asked, turning her green eyes to him. In her left hand, she held her wedding ring.

“Mother? Are you okay?” He asked, noting how much paler and shakier she looked than when he saw her upstairs. 

“Yes, of course.” His mother said as she put her wedding ring back on. “Whatever I said to you upstairs, forget it, okay?”

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know what I was saying.” She said, eyes staring straight at her ring. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Go back to bed, baby. Your father is back earlier than expected and he won’t like to see you up so late. ”

He nodded, unwilling to argue, and took his bag back with him to his room. His mother suddenly acting weird and standoffish wasn’t anything new, it was fine. She would go back to being his sweet, kind mother soon enough. He was sure of it. 

(She never did.)

[sarah-bae-maas]

Gwyn wants to explore, and Azriel needs a friend - a Gwynriel fic - Part 1

In honour of this blog turning five years old, I thought I would treat you all to a two part/chapter Gwynriel fic that has been wandering around in my brain throughout countless days of lockdown and tortuous university classes. 

I’m already well underway with part 2 of this fic, but I do have some assignments coming up, so expect it within the fortnight! 

So please do enjoy this nearly 15k words worth of Gwynriel goodness <3

Masterlist Ao3

_____________

She was staring at him.

Again.

Azriel had always paid special attention to Gwyn – not that he would tell her that, of course. It was a secret held deep in his shadows that she was his favourite Valkyrie, the one he thought the most brave and resilient. It would not be an unpopular opinion if he did share it, the other women looked at her with great admiration, and Nesta often sung her praises when the female wasn’t there to refute her words. But Azriel knew the presumptions people might make if they knew he thought it, and the last thing he wanted was for a misunderstanding to make Gwyn uncomfortable.

Gwyn was holding a bag for Emerie to kick, her stance strong enough that she didn’t flinch at all with each pummel. Her focus should have been on Emerie’s form, but rather her teal eyes were glued to him. Every time Azriel looked over at her, she quickly shifted her gaze to her friend, but his shadows constantly reminded him that Gwyn was once again paying her attention to him.

Cassian called the end of the session. Azriel was grateful, he was finding it harder and harder to train the women effectively when he knew Gwyn was right there.

He practically fled the scene, his cheeks brushed with red, barely nodding to the women who said their thanks to him as he passed. It’s not that he didn’t like her attention, but it made his stomach feel heavy, his hands shake, and he didn’t like how out of control he felt whenever she looked at him like that.

He settled in the dining room. Standing, he braced his hands on the table, a bead of sweat dripping off his forehead and tarnishing the wood. Nesta wouldn’t like if he got his sweat all over the table, even though her and Cassian had coated it in far more scandalous bodily fluids. He should do something productive, like work or eat or pester Rhys and Feyre to have Nyx for the afternoon, but instead he chose to close his eyes and picture the person who’d been haunting him.

He and Gwyn were friends. She was over nearly every night to eat with Nesta, their dinners a sort of lively Azriel hadn’t experienced since he’d lived in Illyria with Rhys and Cas. It was joyful to live in a space filled with such light, but also overwhelming. Azriel found that as much as he loved the time with the rag-tag team they’d made for themselves, his social timer still clicked in his mind as a constant reminder that sometimes dealing with people, even the ones you loved, could be utterly exhausting.

Not with Gwyn though, his shadows lamented, setting him straight. No, Azriel never felt tired with her.

“Az?”

As though his thoughts alone had summoned her, Gwyn’s voice startled him out of his reverie. He turned, his lips parting slightly at the sight of her.

She was still in her training gear – a shirt and pants lovingly stitched by Emerie with embroidered flowers decorating the seams – her neat braid falling around her face, framing her pearlescent skin in fire.

“Gwyneth. Do you need something?”

Her eyes were wide, her hands clasped in front of her as she wrung her fingers. It made Azriel tilt his head in confusion, not understanding why she was so nervous. They spoke every day, she mouthed off at him often, and her shift in confidence had him surprised.

“I have a proposition for you, but you must promise to not tell a soul.”

Azriel raised a brow, leaning back into the table. He spread his hands before him. “I’m listening.”

Gwyn swallowed, her cheeks turning the same shade of red as her hair.

“Imsturbalt,” she squeaked.

“What?”

“I masturbate a lot!” She smacked her hands over her mouth, as if betrayed at the words they spilled.

Azriel’s jaw went slack, his eyes near bugging from his skull. “Okay… that’s good? Self-exploration!” He half-heartedly waved a celebratory fist in the air, not sure what to say to her statement.

She groaned louder than a stabbing victim. “I was thinking that, I didn’t intend to say it aloud.” She rubbed her hands over her face, peeking at him through her fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Your secrets are safer with me than they are anyone else.” Azriel smiled, trying to diffuse the obvious tension in her body. “So, your proposition?”

She tensed her jaw, moving her arms behind and looking at the ground as she spoke. “I guess my previous statement that will never be mentioned again to anyone if you like having the functional use of your organsperhaps wasn’t entirely irrelevant to what I’m going to ask you. But I beg, please let me finish before you say anything, and also don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

“Okay.”

“Silence.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She grinned at him, her eyes finally meeting his again. “As you know, better than anyone really, I have a difficult past.”

Azriel wished he could burn the images of finding her on that table from his mind. He’d had to actively teach himself not to envision her crying and screaming for her sister when she’d first became a permanent fixture in House of Wind. He’s seen many horrific things in his time, was no stranger to the worst humanity had to offer, but it was different when it was someone so vulnerable, so selfless, so important to him. It might have made him a bad person that he didn’t equate people’s trauma accordingly, but how could he possibly care for a stranger as much as he cared for Gwyn?

“What happened to me made me fear my body. Fear the sexuality I see women like Nesta and Mor own. They’re so powerful, and the things that have happened to them… They’re not broken. They’re not less. They’re not afraid.” She paused, sighing deeply. “I would never look upon anyone in the library as lesser than because of the things that have happened to them. It wasn’t until I met Nesta and Emerie that I realised I didn’t give myself the same grace. I want to own the parts of me that were stolen. I want to feel like my body belongs to me. I didn’t even know where to begin, but then the House gave me this book, some fluffy romance novel, and the girl in it was just like me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just felt so seen. Like the Mother herself had handed this smut piece into my lap to make me feel better.”

Gwyn moved to one of the lounge chairs that Cassian had haphazardly shoved into a corner one night when Nesta didn’t feel like moving from the dining room. Gwyn was effortlessly graceful as she sat and curled her legs up, her head resting on her fist.

“That’s where the masturbating comes in.” Her eyes avoided his again, focusing on patterns her fingers drew in the velvet material of the chair. “The girl in the book did it. She’d never had an orgasm either. So, I did too.” She laughed quietly. “It made me feel good. Not just the physical pleasure part, but the part where it was just me, empowering myself at a pace I was comfortable with.”

Azriel wished he could say something, but one, he knew to be silent and let her have this moment, and two, he didn’t know how to tell someone he was proud of them for touching themselves without it sounding weird. He was proud though, extremely so, at how strong she felt from acting on her wants. Her resilience had always astounded him.

“In the book, the girl meets this man.” Her voice lowered, barely more than a whisper. “He treats her so kindly, in a way that I’ve seen Cassian treat Nesta a million times, in a way I yearn to be treated. I’ve given myself a clean slate. This body, my body, has only been touched by me. I am whole. I was never broken, just healing. And I’m at a stage where I want more. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Azriel wished her could say yes, please the eager note in her voice that hoped he was on the same page as her, but even his shadows were silent to her desires.

She glanced at him just long enough to see him shake his head. She tipped her head back. “When Nesta first started sleeping with Cassian, I was so curious. What were they doing? What was he doing to make her look so satisfied? But when I tried to picture it, my stomach would churn. And then time passed. I grew stronger. I became a Valkyrie. And like many others before me and many more in the centuries to come, I walked in on Cassian and Nesta fucking.”

Azriel inhaled sharply. To hear the vulgarity fucking from a mouth so pure sent a bolt through him, and he chided himself for his inappropriate thoughts during such a serious conversation.

“They don’t know I saw, not that I think they would have minded. I would bet good money that if I asked for a demonstration on pleasurable acts Cassian and Nesta would be more than happy to comply. Where I might have once felt sick from seeing them, instead I felt-”

She cut herself off, looking for the right words.

“I felt burning desire. I’ve never been so envious of someone in my life. I didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but by the Cauldron I wanted to feel the way that Nesta did. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know you were such a good secret keeper. Or such a good friend.”

Azriel couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “Gwyn, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to have sex with me.”

***

Azriel stared at his ceiling, his shadows dancing and rolling around him.

I want you to have sex with me.

He tested the words on his own lips. They tasted sweet. They also brought an uncomfortable amount of pressure to his cock. He refused to touch it though and kept both his hands firmly behind his head.

He’d told Gwyn he needed to think about it, and she understood. She said she didn’t expect an answer from him straight away.

Azriel had a lot to consider.

He was practically titillated that when Gwyn had decided she wanted to explore herself with a male, it was him who she thought of. She expressed that it was because she knew he’d care for her, that he’d respect her and because of how much she trusted him. There were not words to express how hearing such things felt to him. It made him want to do this for her, because his soul be damned he knew he would do right by her. Make her feel good, feel special, feel appreciated.

It would be amiss though not to acknowledge that if he did do this, let her warm his bed while he tasted her, it could ruin not just the friendship they had established but also the dynamic of the house. She had assured him that if his answer was no, they would continue their lives as if the conversation never happened.

Which brought a darker thought to his mind.

If not Azriel, then who? She would surely approach someone else. Someone not deserving of her, who might not treat her how she deserved to be treated. That was not to say Azriel thought that in all his bastardly ways he was what Gwyn should have – no, she deserved more than he could ever give – but at least he knew that she would be safe with him.

The thought of another male’s hands on her made him see red.

That was answer enough.

***

Nesta and Cassian were gone for the weekend, caring for Nyx while Feyre and Rhys had a romantic getaway for the weekend. Azriel secretly thought Nesta was using this as a trial to see if her and Cassian were ready for a baby.

It was the perfect opportunity to have Gwyn join him.

The day after she’d approached him, he’d slipped her a note after training to say that he was all in, and to meet him the next night. He tried not to watch her face as she read the note but couldn’t help it. She went bright pink, but she seemed exhilarated.

And now she was standing in his room.

They nervously looked at each other. Azriel wanted to give her the chance to speak first other than their obligatory greetings, but she was tongue-tied.

“I was thinking we should take this in steps,” Azriel said, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching her refrain from pacing back and forth.

“That seems logical. What sort of steps?”

“I was thinking tonight we take sex off the table.”

“What?” Her face fell, hurt evident in her expression.

“Just for tonight. Gwyn, have you had your first kiss?”

She shook her head no.

“Then maybe we do that. And anything beyond only what you want. I need you to know that you’re in control here. Whatever we do or don’t do is completely your decision.”

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “That sounds reasonable. Like you’re my little puppet.” Her hands mimed using a marionette, and Azriel found it easy to reciprocate her smile.

She moved to his side, planting herself on the bed next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the how good she smelled, how carefully her hair had been arranged and how she’d worn her nicest dress. She had wanted to look good for him, and the thought made his heart squeeze.

He reached out and held the hands she clasped in her lap. It made her look at him, her teal eyes flashing in the room only lit by his fireplace.

“You’re a very good friend, Azriel.”

“Do you want me to kiss you, Gwyn?”

She nodded, turning her body to face him.

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then her lips, before he settled on cradling her face. She leant her head into his hand, so trusting as she looked at him. His hand was so big that the fingers that lay on her neck could feel her hammering pulse.

She leant in the same time he did.

At first it was just a peck. Their lips brushing against each other’s so gently it made Azriel ache. He pressed his lips to her again, and again, getting her used to the feeling of his lips on hers. She enthusiastically reciprocated, her slender fingers running up his chest before meeting behind his head, tangling themselves in his hair. He smiled against her mouth, pleased at such a reaction when the real kissing had yet to even start.

His grazed his tongue along her lip, and she eagerly opened her mouth, letting his tongue slip inside her. The noise she made at the contact buzzed straight through him, and he was pleasantly surprised when Gwyn, in all her eagerness, took control of him.

She kissed him as though she had done it her whole life, like her mouth belonged on his, and the feel of her delicate tongue made him deepen their kiss, angling her head so they could better feel one another. She was practically leaning back, and if this had been a meaningless one night stand she’d have been on her back by now with Azriel’s mouth between her thighs.

She broke away from him, his mouth instinctively following hers as it wanted more, making her gleam in pride.

“I want to change positions,” she said, her hands still wired into his hair.

“Anything you want,” he replied breathlessly.

Azriel didn’t know what to expect, but it was not her getting up and crawling into his lap. She straddled his thighs, and there was no way she wouldn’t be able to feel his erection pressing against her. He did with his hands what any male would do in this situation, and her giggle was enough to know that she’d wanted him to do that.

“Your hands are on my ass,” she laughed.

“Is that okay?”

“Very much so.” She took a deep breath. “Take your shirt off. Please.”

He obliged.

“And you should – you should take off my dress too.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a slip on underneath.”

His hands shook slightly as they ran up her sides and to her back, undoing each button on her dress. To give her a more authentic experience, he decided to lean in as he did, kissing a new spot on her neck with each button that came undone.

She raised her arms so that he could slip the dress over her head, and he averted his eyes when her slip rode up with it. He didn’t look back until she had adjusted herself. When he did, he nearly fainted.

She was divine in her beauty. He always saw lovely she was, anyone with eyes would. Her body was lean and tight. Her uniform may have hidden it, but she had the power of any warrior in her body. Azriel wondered if she purposefully hid her strength so that it was a secret part of her arsenal. Smart female.

He ran his hands up her spread legs before planting them back on her ass. Unable to resist, he squeezed his hands, making her groan.

“Your hands feel so good,” she gasped. “Do everyone’s hands feel like that, or is it just you?”

He snickered. “Anyone who is worth their weight knows how to make a female feel good.” He bumped her shoulder with his nose. “What would you like me to do now? Do you want to keep kissing?”

“Fuck yes I want to keep kissing.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she playfully nipped at his bottom lip. “But maybe we could do other things. Even better things.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Gwyn reached behind her and grabbed one of the hands resting on her behind. For the first time since they’d started, she looked nervous. Her legs were shaking, and Azriel was unsure if it was anxiety or anticipation for whatever she had planned.

She guided his hand under his slip until he was cupping her sex.

“You aren’t.” He swallowed hard. “You aren’t wearing underwear.”

She shook her head playfully. “I didn’t think I would need to.”

She pressed his hand into her, and he moaned at the wetness he found. She was so slick for him already, and all they had done was kiss. He did an exploratory brush through her folds, and as at the tip of his finger grazed over her clit, she arched into him, holding on tight to his shoulders.

He started teasing her, obsessed with the little noises she was making at the back of her throat as he did, but he soon realised something.

Usually, when Azriel was with a female, they got progressively more… turned on. Their bodies would react to his touch, and his fingers would be coated in their juices before he even attempted to enter them with either his fingers or his cock.

Gwyn was not.

It seemed the more he touched her, the more it was like her body didn’t want this. For all intents and purposes, she was… drying up?

His hand went still, and he could feel her body instinctively relaxing as his hand left her pussy.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, clinging to him.

“You don’t enjoy this.” He made her look him in the eye, and his throat tightened at how she looked. There were tears lining her eyes and a deep furrow on her forehead.

“I do, I promise I do. I’m just nervous. If we – if we just overcome this one thing-”

“No, Gwyn.”

“Please Azriel,” she said desperately, trying to guide his hand back between her thighs.

As gently as he could, he lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the bed. Her breath shuddered, and he couldn’t bear the shattered look on her face.

She didn’t say a word, just stood up and tried to locate her dress. Azriel didn’t even know where he had thrown it, but he stood and stopped her from looking anyway.

“Gwyn…” He grasped her hands in his, towering over her as they faced each other. “I want to do this for you, please believe me when I say that. But maybe we just need to take a few more steps first. Do something else before that.”

“What else is there?” She was dejected, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’m doing Az. And I swear on the Cauldron I want this. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I’m just so nervous, and I get in my head about everything I do-”

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and the ropable tension in her body started to ease out. She slumped against him, his arms wrapping around her in an embrace. “This is fine. Great, even.”

“You are such a liar.” She sighed, but at least she returned his embrace, tucking herself into him so they were as close as possible.

He tried to think of ways to salvage the night for her, to give her at least a little bit of what she wanted.

An idea sprang to mind.

“Gwyn?”

“Mmm?”

“Get on the bed. Lie down.”

She looked up at him hopefully. She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically flung herself at the bed, laying down on her back and resting her arms above her head. She grinned at him, and he didn’t miss the way she clenched her thighs together than spread them apart like a silent invitation.

Azriel couldn’t help but brighten at her enthusiasm. He undid the buttons on his pants and kicked them down so he was naked before her.

“I thought we weren’t having sex!” She jolted to her side, holding herself up on her arms and staring at his penis, her eyes practically bulging out of her head at the sight of it.

There were many things Azriel did not like about himself. But he had a damn fine cock.

He laughed at the look on her face and shook his head. “We’re not having sex. I’m not even going to touch you.”

She deflated. “Really? Not even a little bit?”

He followed her to the bed, climbing over her without touching her and planting himself next to her so they were lying side to side. He turned his head to her, and she looked at him curiously.

“We’re not just going to lie here naked, are we? It’s a bit cold for that.”

It was a little chilly. Her nipples were hard under her slip, which had ridden up to her stomach.

“No, but we can get under the blanket if you want.”

Her gaze raked up and down his body. “I’m happy above the blanket.”

They laid in a comfortable silence for a moment, happily taking in each other’s bodies. She was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen, and he was glad to see that their kissing antics had left her dishevelled. He liked that look on her.

“Are you actually not going to touch me?”

“I’m not. I think you should touch yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“I’ll touch myself, too. It’ll be a way for us to be more comfortable with each other. For you to be in control of your pleasure.”

“Will you watch me?” she murmured.

“If that’s okay. You can watch me, too.”

She considered his words, and Azriel wondered if this was in fact not the good idea he’d thought he’d had. She pursed her lips, and he knew her answer when she grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it off, leaving her naked before him.

They stared into each other’s eyes as her hand brushed over her exposed breasts, and Azriel had to hold himself back from taking them in his mouth, from pinching her perked nipples with his teeth. Maybe later, that could come; he thought she would quite like it.

Her right hand kneaded her breast and tweaked her nipple while her left dipped down between her legs. Two fingers ran over her core, and he studied the way she massaged herself so that he could do it to her in the future. At the sight, he tentatively grasped his cock, wanting to make sure that she was truly okay with him touching himself at the vision of her with her fingers dipping inside her, moistening herself before focusing on her clit.

Her eyes flickered to his stroking hand, and her response nearly made him finish then and there like a teenager exploring themselves for the first time. She’d seen him, and lifted her leg so that it was draped over one of his, giving her a better angle on her clit and twining them together.

“I’m used to being quiet,” she shuddered. “So that no one hears me.”

“Be as loud as you want. Scream for me.”

Her hand quickened, and his sack tightened as he matched her speed with his own hand, gripping himself tightly. He moaned so loudly that he was once again thankful that Cassian and Nesta weren’t in the house. Even the magic of the walls mightn’t contain the pleasure pulsing through him as he watched her.

Her legs started to shake, and the little noises she’d made before were no more. Her voice was loud as she no longer held herself back from feeling even ounce of her impending orgasm.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked, her hips starting to gyrate against her hand.

“You. All I can think of is you,” Azriel moaned. He pumped himself quicker, his grip becoming harder.

“What about you,” he whispered in her ear. “Are you thinking about what you saw Cassian do to Nesta?”

Her toes curled at his words. “I’m thinking of what I saw them doing, but it’s you and me.”

“What are we doing, Gwyneth?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her tongue licked her lips before she bit down on them. “We’re in the library. You have me bent over one of the desks, and you’re taking me from behind. One of your arms is around me, and you’re flicking my clit as I scream your name. You’re so deep in me, Azriel, I can feel every inch of you as I clench around you. Cauldron, you feel so good. The best thing I’ve ever felt, Az.”

His breath hitched, and he felt himself on the brink of coming. What finally did him in was her teeth biting down on his shoulder as she screamed his name, her orgasm making her whole body shake as it overcame over.

When they had both come down from their highs, they laid trying to catch their breath, both their bodies covered in sweat.

“That was amazing,” she sighed, turning to face him.

He grabbed a corner of the unused blanket beneath them to wipe himself off, then turned to face her, an arm going around her waist and his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead and cheek.

He wanted to look at her body, finally relaxed and languid, but his shadows had another idea. They bathed over her like silk, dancing over her curves and crevices, making her laugh.

“I quite like them,” she said, her eyes starting to drift closed.

“Are you tired?”

“Mhmm.” She snuggled into him further, stealing his warmth. His cock responded to her touch, but it was too soon yet to do anything meaningful.

“Move up for a sec.”

“Is that you trying to hint that I should go?” Her voice was joking, but the look on her face said that she’d go if he wanted her too.

“Absolutely not, you’re staying here with me. I’m just grabbing the blanket.”

She moved away just long enough for him to pull the blankets over them and pull her to his chest again.

She made a content noise and closed her eyes to sleep, and Az thought to himself that he didn’t care if this one day ended their friendship, because it might very well be the best time of his life anyway.

***

The next two weeks were filled with them sneaking away and feverishly touching themselves in all sorts of ways. Once, Gwyn sat in his lap naked while they stroked themselves, kissing each other the entire time. Another time, she pleasured herself by grinding against his thigh and he palmed himself – they hadn’t even bothered to take their clothes off. A late-night training session had led to her using a particularly shaped massage tool on herself in very a scandalous way while he watched, near feral at the sight of her pumping into herself. He did not return that item to the training ring, instead he kept it in his bedside drawer for future use.

It wasn’t until sixteen days and countless orgasms into their agreement that Azriel was finally able to touch her.

It had been a busy night. Rhys, Feyre, Nyx, Mor and Emerie were over for dinner, and it had been the most fun Az had had in a group since last solstice. At the table, he’d had Feyre on one side and Gwyn on the other, and her little secret touches to his thigh made him feel warm all over.

It wasn’t necessarily an arousing touch, just an affectionate one. When the group had started to disperse to drink, Nesta the sober adult taking care of Nyx, Az noticed Gwyn sneak away. He promptly followed her, making sure everyone was distracted as he did so no one noticed what they were doing.

Within a few minutes he was between her thighs tasting her. She had mentioned the night before that she wanted his tongue on her, and by the Cauldron was he happy to oblige. She was sitting on the edge of desk in the library that she’d described to him all those weeks ago, and whilst on his knees before her, he jerked himself off as she crumbled beneath his mouth.

Thankfully, by the time they returned, people were far too tipsy to question where they’d been.

Except for Nesta, who looked suspiciously between the two of them. Whatever she was thinking, it was at Gwyn’s behest if she knew anything. It was her decision, always, what happened between them, and if she wanted people to know about their sneakiness, that was for her to decide.

Seven days later is when she first touched him. Until that point it had all been about her, which is what Azriel wanted. They were on his bed, his fingers deep inside her as they kissed, when her hand brushed against his cock. He moved his hips aside, and she broke their kiss off with a noise of indignation.

“Stop swatting my hands away!” She flicked his nose with her finger.

“Huh?” He was still dazed on the sound of his hand gliding through her dripping wet core.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Her voice was curt.

“I just want this to be about you. I don’t want you to think that I’m only with you for my own sexual gratification. The only thing that matters to me is your happiness, my soul purpose is you. You’re my priority.” He kissed her neck. “My desires are your desires.” Another kiss. “I can’t focus if you’re anything less than panting and satisfied.”

She pursed her lips, a familiar expression at this point. It turned into a joyful smile, and she smacked a kiss to his lips. “That was actually very sweet. After I get you off, I’m going to sit on your face.”

What was even better than the heavy petting and intense make out sessions was the talking. Sometimes for hours they would just tangle themselves together and divulge their life stories. Azriel knew all about her sister and mother – Gwyn confessing that she felt guilt when her twin wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, but sometimes she pushed her away because the memory of her was overwhelmingly devastating. Az wiped her tears away, desperate to see her smile again. But he also knew of all the good times she’d had growing up, and it made him feel alight inside to know how loved she was. Az told her mostly of Rhys and Cassian and the family they had made for themselves, about how it was so hard to be away from his mother, but he wouldn’t have survived another day in his father’s presence. Gwyn cried for him sometimes, and Azriel had never known such empathy from another.

When they were alone in the House, Nesta and Cassian off on one of their sexcations, Gwyn would spend her evenings and nights with him just as a friend, doing housework and menial tasks that she didn’t have to while humming various tunes. Az would tell her to stop working, but she would just grin and say she liked feeling like part of a home too much to not pretend that she lived there too. So he would just hum with her, his shadows dancing and swaying the way they always inevitably did around her. Then they would fall into bed together (or any surface really) until they were spent and exhausted.

Azriel had never known happiness like this.

***

Azriel was buzzing with excitement. He’d left Gwyn wrapped up in his bed, the sun not yet risen, and made sure to leave her some breakfast on his nightstand and the fire burning to keep her warm without his body next to hers. Usually he would wake her up early with his head between her thighs so she could go back to the library, but she had already told the acolytes she roomed with that she would be staying with Nesta, so no need to sneak around when no one was expecting her.

Before they’d gone to sleep the night before, Gwyn said something to him that left him smiling even now as he made his way to Rhys.

I want to have sex, Az. I’m sure. I know I’m safe with you.

Az didn’t know why Rhys needed him, but if it involved leaving Velaris, he would barter for a few more days so that he might be with Gwyn before he left. An odd feeling entered his chest at the thought. He couldn’t name the feeling; he just knew he didn’t want to leave Gwyn alone.

He landed on the doorstep of Feyre and Rhys’ home. Before he had the chance to let himself in, Feyre opened the door, a grave look on her face.

“Quick. Before they start yelling.” Feyre pinched her nose, the other hand holding Nyx on her hip.

Azriel pushed past her, and it wasn’t hard to find the source of Feyre’s frustration.

“Once again you fucking asshole, you need to back off. How dare you-”

“Nes, calm down-”

“Tell me to calm down again Cassian and I’m out of here. As I was saying, how fucking dare you accuse her of such things, Rhysand, High Lord of Shitting me up the Wall.”

“Nesta, for fuck’s sake you’re getting defensive for no reason!”

“No reason?!” she spat, Cassian holding her back before she lunged at Rhys.

“Too late,” Feyre muttered at him as she walked into the office, sitting at the desk to remain neutral in Nesta and Rhysand’s pissing match. Azriel would love to know what had riled them up so much that they were nearly screaming at each other, but any guidance from his brothers was not there.

“You have to admit that it’s suspicious, Nesta!”

Rhys threw his arm at Azriel as he approached, looking triumphant. “Azriel will agree with me.”

“He will not.”

“May I ask what I might need to agree to, or will it remain a mystery as to why you’re yelling so early in the morning?” Az crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for them to stop acting like children.

“Rhys accused Gwyn of being a spy,” Nesta growled.

“You’re twisting my words! I said I’d had reports of her acting strange, of her behaviour being completely different, and I suggested that it was worth looking into. We have to consider the safety of Velaris, and Gwyn would be the perfect plant.”

Azriel was sure Rhys was going to say more, but he was interrupted by Azriel’s uncontrollable fit of laughter. His laughs shook his whole body, and he felt tears in his eyes from how hard his fit was hitting him. He had to bend over to try and catch his breath, clutching at his chest as though his lungs might leap out of it.

“What’s so funny,” Rhys deadpanned.

Azriel shook his head and walked to Nesta, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“Are you serious, Rhys? Gwyn? Gwyenth Berdara?”

“Yes, I’m serious. Both Clotho and Merrill have approached me. Clotho, because she was worried, and Merrill, because she thought that Gwyn was being insubordinate. Clotho has had multiple girls come to her in fear for Gwyn, saying she’s been disappearing at night and coming back early in the morning. They she’s tired, unfocused, and that she’s exceeding every expectation they had for her in training and acting like a different person in the library. This has all been reported over the last month.” Rhys picked Nyx out of Feyre’s arms to calm himself before continuing. “Gwyn knows incredibly sensitive information about us. She helped us with the Trove, she treats the House of Wind like she bloody lives there. She’s awfully comfortable for a person who previous to knowing us refused to leave the library.”

Any humour Azriel felt had been leeched from his body. Nesta’s verbal beating of Rhys had been justified and then some.

“With all due respect, you can go fuck yourself,” he bit at his brother.

Feyre made a noise in the back of her throat and took Nyx back from Rhys before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

Too much swearing for such little ears! she said into their minds as she was leaving.

“What the fuck, Az?” Rhys looked startled.

“I knew he’d side with me,” Nesta said smugly.

“She’s ‘awfully comfortable?’ Yeah, she is, because she found a fucking family. Nesta is like a sister to her, and she’s over at the House a lot not because she’s entitled, but because we want her there. You might not make that much of an effort with Nesta’s friends because of your own personal shit, but Cassian and I consider her a close friend. Accusing her of anything unbecoming, to me, is as bad as if you’d dragged me in here to tell me Cassian was working against us. You sound ludicrous. Also, need I remind you, it’s not your fucking House anymore. Who we have over is none of your damned business.”

Rhys scoffed. “It’s not your House either.”

“Sorry, High Lord Rhysand, I’ll manage my expectations.” Az clenched his jaw at Rhys’ words. He was right. Azriel didn’t technically have any property, neither had Cassian until Rhys had given Nesta the House as a mating gift. Azriel didn’t technically have a home beyond the sky, nothing worth giving to or sharing with another person. Even now, Gwyn was waiting for him in a bedroom that technically wasn’t is. He wouldn’t dare leave though, not when he knew it was one of only two places that Gwyn felt safe in.

“Why are you getting so defensive? You know what I’m saying is reasonable.”

“It would be if we didn’t know her. She is… there are not words to describe her.”

“Yes, there is,” Nesta piqued. “She is competitive. She is feisty. She’s a Valkyrie. She is the kindest soul in Velaris. She is so brave, and strong, and the most selflessly loving person I’ve met in my entire life. If you weren’t so thick headed, you would see that she’s like Feyre in a lot of ways.” Nesta paused. She left Azriel’s side to stand in front of Rhys, her shoulders back and her head high. “If you accuse her of something it would break her heart. I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I would never hurt her, Nesta.” Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. “If you’re so convinced that nothing is going on, can you explain her strange behaviour.”

Nesta turned away from Rhys, so that he couldn’t see her face. When Nesta looked over at Azriel, she didn’t need to say a single word for him to know that she knew the exact reason Gwyn was acting different.

It was because of him.

“I don’t need to explain it because I trust her. I’m also with her nearly every minute of every day. Do you not think I would not notice if she was conniving against us? Or are you truly that foolish?”

“I agree with Nesta,” Cassian said. “She’s either with us training the Valkyries, or she’s working with Nesta in the library. Who cares if she’s a little distracted, we all are sometimes.”

“And you’re sure of this?” Rhys directed his question at Azriel, almost as if he couldn’t trust Cassian and Nesta to be impartial because of how close they were to Gwyn. Huh. If only he knew.

“I have never been surer of anything.”

***

“Azriel, wait.”

Azriel was stalking through the front gardens. He would walk until his head was clear, then he would go home – go to the House of Wind – and spend the morning with Gwyn. Nesta had other plans.

“What is it?”

“Gwyn-”

“-will be safe. I won’t let Rhys near her.”

“I’m not worried about that. What is going on between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m not blind. All the things Rhys described? Sure, might be espionage, but it might also just be someone falling in love.”

“We’re not together.” Love? What a preposterous thought. Gwyn had been very clear from the beginning in what she wanted from him. She needed someone to fulfil her physical needs, and Azriel was happy to do so. All the other stuff, the talking and friendship, was just icing.

“Then what are you doing? Setting yourselves up to get hurt?”

“This is a conversation you should have with her.”

“She trusts you so much, Az. Please, don’t do anything that would hurt her. She’s come so far since we met.”

“Nesta, I promise you I couldn’t dream of hurting her. The thought alone makes me feel visceral pain. What we do, what we are, is just her making decisions and doing what she wants. How did you even know there was something going on?”

Nesta smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I guessed she had a flirtation with someone. I knew it was you from the way she started saying your name.”

Azriel felt his eyes burn, but he did not know why. “The way she says my name?”

“I’ve heard the way she says it a million times. From Cassian and I. From Rhys and Feyre. I can’t describe it beyond that.”

Azriel shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted where he stood. “Have you told Cas?”

“I don’t need to, he knows.”

“So you guys have talked about it?”

“No. I haven’t told him that I know. But I know he knows. And he also knows I know.”

“So he knows you know even though you haven’t told him you know and you know he knows even though he hasn’t said he knows?”

“Exactly,” she laughed. Her smile was more genuine now. It was a look she’d only had since her mating ceremony. It sung contentment, something she, like him, struggled to have.

She came to him and linked their arms, resting her head on his shoulder. Her friendship was invaluable to him, as much as it was a surprise when it first started to form.

“I have one other thing to say, and then I’ll let you go home to Gwyn.”

“Yes, Nesta?”

“The House of Wind is as much as your home as it is mine. You can stay there forever if you want. It is your home, Azriel, and I wouldn’t dream of it being anything else.”

***

Gwyn was awake when Azriel returned home. She was humming a song to herself in bed, wrapped in his blankets like it was a cocoon. She had the breakfast he made for her in her lap, and when he entered the room, she pulled the blanket aside and opened her arms for him to fall into to.

Maybe he still looked stormy after his talk with Rhys, or maybe she just wanted to hold him. Either way, he fell happily into her embrace.

***

Gwyn had set a date. She did not intend to be so clinical about it, she just wanted to give herself a chance to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and she needed a few days to do so.

The month she’d had with Azriel had been… Cauldron, she did not know how to exactly describe it. When she had approached him, she honestly did not think that he would say yes to such a ridiculous idea. But he had, and he’d given her nothing short of the best month of her life. Her cheeks ached from how much she was smiling, and even if she was tired when she worked, she wouldn’t give up her restless nights for anything.

It would also be remiss for her to not acknowledge that perhaps what she had with him was more than an arranged bargain, but any time the thoughts propped up she promptly put them to the side.

She had not gone to see Az last night, needing the time to do extra work so that she could be missed for a day. Or two. Maybe even three.

Gwyn didn’t know how long this marathon might last, but if it were anything like Nesta and Cassian’s, it could be a while.

She had also warned Clotho and the females she shared her room with that she would be staying at the House of Wind for a few days. When asked why, she just said she was doing something with Emerie without going into any detail.

So, tonight it was. She was ready.

She was so fucking ready.

The moment dinner was served in the library she made a run for it, having to physically restrain herself from skipping out of the library. She was so excited, her body literally vibrating with energy, that she didn’t even see Nesta before their bodies slammed together.

They went to a ground in a tangled fumble, and Nesta was too busy laughing to listen to Gwyn’s repeated apologies. The brisk evening air greeted them, the stars starting to peek through the violet dusk as they laid on the path that took them from the library to the training area to the House.

“Well, you made looking for you much easier,” Nesta said, brushing off her dress as she stood. She offered Gwyn a hand, which she gladly took. Nesta started walking towards the House, their hands not dropping as they swung them between them like children.

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Emerie is here with Mor and Feyre. I wanted you to join us for dinner.”

“I have dinner with you every night.”

“I know, but I wanted you to know that you’re not just welcome but also invited.”

Gwyn smiled at Nesta, love for her friend filling her heart.

They approached the House, Nesta’s face falling as they walked in and saw Rhys standing in the middle of the room, confused looks on the faces of Mor and Emerie as everyone just looked uncomfortable.

Nesta’s hands squeezed Gwyn’s, and for just a second it felt like Nesta was about to pull Gwyn right back to the library.

“I’m not sure what the problem is,” Mor said slowly. “We go out in Velaris all the time, why can’t we tonight?”

“You’re more than welcome to, I would just rather stay here,” Azriel replied.

Gwyn knew the look on his face. It was the same look he’d had a few days ago when he’d returned from Mother knows where after Rhys summoned him. Gwyn assumed Azriel had just had to do one of the many hard tasks expected of a spymaster, but perhaps there was something else if his face was a mirror of that again now.

“What’s going on?” asked Nesta.

They all turned to look at them like they were surprised to see them. Not even Azriel had noticed their entrance, although Gwyn self-admitted that Azriel tended to be surprised by her sudden appearances quite often. She didn’t know for sure, but she thought maybe his shadows didn’t bother warning him when she was near. It’s not like she was a danger to the guy.

“Rhys came and said we should try the new restaurant on the Rainbow! The one near Feyre’s studio? I’ve heard really nice things about it, and the family that opened it are really beautiful.” Mor beamed at them all, trying to disperse the odd tension. “And then maybe we could go dancing.”  

The idea sounded wonderful, and Gwyn wistfully wished she could join them. In reality, just the thought of going into the city set her heard racing. The only time she had ever left the library or the House, other than to go to Emerie’s house which landed them in the Bloodrite, was to officiate Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. Although the memory was one of her most treasured ones, it was not something she thought she would be able to do again. Not yet.

“I’ve heard great things about that place,” Nesta replied, her stomach audibly grumbling at just hearing about the exquisite food it might receive.

“You are all more than welcome to go.” Azriel swept a hand out between them. “But I don’t want to.”

His gaze flickered to Gwyn, and suddenly the eyes of everyone were on her.

A blanket of understanding washed over the room. Most eyes were understanding, Mor’s held the pity that Gwyn hated, and Rhys looked indifferent, if not satisfied.

Azriel’s resistance became evident. It wasn’t just that it was the night, their night, but he didn’t want her to be left alone whilst everyone else galivanted through the city having the time of their lives when they knew she wouldn’t be able to join them.

“I don’t want to go either. It’s been a long week and I’m tired,” said Nesta.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes at her lying sister but couldn’t hold it in her heart to be angry. In face, she had to stop it from swelling with how loving their words felt. They didn’t want her to be alone. They wanted to stay with her.

“You know,” spoke Emerie softly, “I can’t imagine anywhere making food as well as the House.”

Mor’s eyes shot to Emerie, and Gwyn wondered if she was imagining the slight betrayed look in them.

“Guy’s, c’mon. Rhys and I made a reservation, they’re expecting us! It would be rude not to go,” Mor pleaded.

Azriel opened his mouth to snap back, but Gwyn interrupted. “She’s right. You should go enjoy yourselves.”

“But Gwyn-”

“It’s okay, Nesta. Please, I really think you should all go.” She made a point to look at Azriel. “It sounds like it would be a lot of fun.”

“It’s not fair to arrange activities that we can’t all participate in.” Azriel’s voice had softened as he looked at her, and if she didn’t have better self-control she would stride over and plant a kiss on his pouting lips.

“How could Mor have known that Gwyn would be here? It’s not her fault,” Rhys interjected.

“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard-”

“Stop, just stop.” Gwyn clutched her hands in front of her and stepped away from Nesta. She needed them to see her as an adult, as someone who was strong and to be taken seriously. “It’s fine. Really, truly. I have a lot to do anyway.” She turned to Feyre and waved her fingers at Nyx. “If you would like, I can take care of him so you can enjoy some grown-up time.”

For a second Feyre looked hopeful, but then she schooled her face into neutrality. Rhys stepped between the two, and Feyre had to put an arm on his shoulder.

As if to stop him stepping any further.

Gywn blinked, feeling like she should blanch away but not sure as to why.

“That won’t be necessary,” Rhys said. She’d heard him use that voice before. It was his political voice. His I-have-an-agenda voice. Now it was her turn to look confused.

“No worries,” Gwyn whispered.

She looked away from the High Lord’s searing gaze and back to her friends. She hoped her face didn’t speak of her sadness.

“Please go. I would feel awful if any of you stayed on my part. If anything, by going and having a great time you’d be doing me a favour, because I wouldn’t feel guilty.”

“You could always just come with us,” Mor said, tucking her hair behind her ears in a way that was comically similar to how the ‘popular’ girls in her smutty books would behave.

Gwyn bit her lip, thinking about it. Of course, logically, she would be safe. They would all be there, Azriel would be there, but she genuinely felt like she might vomit at the thought. A bead of sweat dripped down her back, and she despised how her eyes stung with tears. She breathed the way her and Nesta had learnt from Valkyrie texts and pulled herself back to reality. Sometimes the logic of actions did not dictate how you would feel, or react, to a situation. Gwyn reminded herself once more to be kinder to herself.

“Thank you for the offer, Mor, but I am happy here.” Gwyn smiled brightly at them all, and they seemed to relax – all but Az and her sisters.

She shooed them out of the House, hoping that one day she would be able to join them.

***

It was odd. Gwyn had spent much time over the last few years alone, but it had never affected her. And although the House was quite good company – it had dinner and dessert ready for her with a box of tissues and chocolates even before Cassian had finally flown off with the resistant Nesta – it wasn’t the same as spending time with someone who could talk back to you.

She only just made it through her meal when she crawled into Azriel’s bed, hoping the scent of him would make her feel better.

It didn’t, but the sight of his room did. There were unlit candles lining the room, and flowers adorning every surface. The cheeky male had even installed a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, and she blushed profusely at the implications.

He had tried to make it romantic, and she adored him for it.

She had no idea when he would be back, and she scolded herself for wishing it would be sooner rather than later. She wanted him to be out and about with his family, even if it made her burn with envy that everyone would be able to enjoy him but her.

She rolled over, stuffing her face into his pillow and groaning. She should take off her day clothes and resign herself to pyjamas. Maybe she should sleep in a different bedroom so as to not torture herself with what this night could have been.

Her night with Az. The night with Az.

“That’s it. I am so over this,” she said aloud before springing up. She stomped out of the room and towards Nesta’s, flinging her closet open to inspect her clothes.

It was just a restaurant. It was safe. She would be fine. Besides, how could she overcome her fears if not to face them? She had gone to Emerie’s and survived. She had gone to Nesta’s mating ceremony and survived. She had won the bloody Bloodrite!

As she looked through the dresses, she quickly realised they wouldn’t fit. They would hang loose at her hips and chest, where Nesta was beautifully endowed and she was not.

“Not to worry, I’ll just take a coat then.” Taking the first one she saw, light but soft enough that warmth wouldn’t be an issue, Gwyn shoved her shoes on approached the door that led to the ten thousand steps that would take her to Velaris. She didn’t know where to go from there, but she knew in her heart of hearts that she would be able to find her friends with enough willpower. And since meeting Nesta and Emerie, since being empowered by the strongest females she knew and since empowering herself, she knew she had that willpower in abundance.

“Let’s fucking do this.”

***

She didn’t know at what point the House had left her, its omnipresence not connected to the stairs, but she was doing just fine even if she felt its absence. She counted in her head to keep track of where she was.

One thousand. Feeling good. Coat in arms.

Two thousand. Out of breath but in a good way.

Three thousand. Fucking shit.

Four thousand. Maybe she should turn around.

Five thousand.

Six thousand. How has Nesta done this multiple times?

Seven thousand. She had this! This was easier than Ramiel!

Eight thousand. If she died here no one would find her.

Nine thousand.

Ten. Fucking. Thousand.

Gwyn realised that there was no way she’d be able to eat with them. They would be having dessert if they hadn’t already moved on. She just needed to find them.

As Gwyn took the last step, her toes touched the streets of Velaris for the very first time.

It was so beautiful she thought she might cry. There was colour everywhere, the laughter of adults and children alike, and she could smell delicious food as the many restaurant’s wide-open doors let the scents pour into the streets. The faelights lining the streets reminded her of the stars she often gazed at with Azriel, the thought of him like a caress to her mind.

Azriel loved Velaris, would die for this city if he had to. How could she been afraid of something he loved so much?

She took one step. Then one more. She was sure to anyone that glanced her way she must have looked like a lunatic, her eyes wide in wonder as she moved at a snail’s pace, Nesta’s coat bundled in her arms because after all those steps she didn’t need it.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, equal parts fear and excitement, as she walked through the city. She got a few odd looks, but she could see it was out of curiosity for a newcomer in a city that had been locked down for centuries, and not for violence. She wasn’t leered at or bothered. In fact, the only time someone even talked to her was when a toddler sprinted from his mother’s side, his legs too quick for his body to keep up, and he fell into her.

The mother apologised profusely but Gwyn didn’t care at all. How could she be mad at the pudgy little baby?

It was easy to find her way to a district clearly dedicated to all things food. If possible, she slowed down even more. She peeked inside every restaurant looking for the four sets of wings that would set her friends apart from everyone else.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of searching but was probably closer to forty minutes, she saw them.

Azriel and Rhys were standing outside the restaurant Mor must’ve been talking about. Light and music drifted from its open windows, the streets still full of roaming people. Gwyn knew they wouldn’t be able to see her yet, and she wondered how she should approach them.

Azriel… did not look happy, and the tense set of Rhys’ shoulders and back let her know that his face likely looked the same, even if he was facing away from her.

Before she could think of a strategy, Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

Gwyn could not describe the feeling that filled her as they drunk in one another. Still standing twenty steps from him, his gaze made her feel like she was wrapped in his arms.

She raised one hand in a wave, and it was like Rhys didn’t exist at all.

Azriel shoved him to the side, Rhys making an indignant sound as he did. He ran to her, and she dropped Nesta’s coat so she could wrap her arms around him as they crashed together. People in the streets backed off at Azriel’s display, and in that moment she couldn’t have cared less about where she was, as long as she was with him.

His wings wrapped around her, creating a shield between them and the outside world.

“Gwyn.”

“Hey Az,” she whispered, her arms around his neck and his face tucked to her shoulder.

“What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He straightened and brushed the hair from her face. It had stuck to her skin from how much she had sweat while taking the stairs, but she didn’t care how she looked. She knew he certainly never would.

He looked ready to fight an invisible threat, and it made her throb in unspeakable places.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just – I. Um.” She hadn’t rehearsed what she would say to him, but it’s not like she could blurt out Hey! Just wanted to near you at all times and rub my body against yours!

“Did something happen? What do you need me to do?”

She shook her head. “No, no, Az, really, I’m fine. I just regretted not coming out with you all.”

He must have been able to see the honesty on her face and smile, because he relaxed, his wings folding back.

The look on his face was adorable as the realisation dawned on him that she was here for him.

“Did I miss everything? Are you all done?”

He didn’t answer, but he did look behind him. Rhys was standing there with his mouth open, his face laced with something Gwyn couldn’t put a name to. Before she could greet him, Rhys stormed back into the restaurant.

Azriel turned back to her, and he didn’t hesitate when he lifted her chin and kissed her.

She gasped but reciprocated zealously. She pushed her body into his, and his arms went around her as he lifted her off her feet, cradling him to her as he kissed her like she was the wind that let him embrace the skies. He tasted like air, like gold, like this was his final breath and he was he was sharing it with just her.

***

Azriel sat with Gwyn while the rest of their friends danced. She hid it well, but he could tell that she was nervous being in this new environment.

She had been so good, so brave when she went into the restaurant and greeted Azriel’s family. Nesta and Emerie jumped up when they saw her, and Nesta held her tightly while Emerie rushed to get another chair. Nesta was trying to be subtle, but Azriel saw the happy tears she shed as she held Gwyn. Emerie then insisted that Gwyn sit and eat her strawberry and mango cheesecake with her, which earned an inexplicable scowl from Mor. Interesting.

Once Gwyn was satisfied and protesting the consumption of more food, they all walked together to one of the classier bars Nesta used to frequent so they could go dancing. Everyone was light as a feather, except Rhys, but life was hard as a fucking asshole, so Az wasn’t surprised he was feeling surly.

And now here they were. Azriel and Gwyn seated with the others dancing to their hearts content. Mor was spinning around with a giggling Nyx, Feyre and Rhys were swaying but it was obvious they were speaking to each other through their daemati bond, and Emerie and Nesta were terrorising Cassian in a three-way dance.

“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked, his shadows silent to her moods. If it had been anyone else, he would have known she was coming to the restaurant before she’d even left the House. But his shadows didn’t like to spy on her and revelled in him being surprised by her.

“I feel good.” Her gaze was focused on the dance floor, and Azriel glanced over to see what was so entrancing.

Nesta and Cassian were finally dancing alone, Emerie now with Nyx and Mor. The way Cassian and Nesta were grinding on each other was nothing short of pornographic as they moved into the shadows of the dance floor. Nesta’s back was to Cassian, his hands clasped on her hips as his lips were on her neck as she pushed her ass back against him.

Azriel snorted. They’d be fucking in an alley within the next fifteen minutes.

“Do you want to dance like that, Gwyneth?”

She turned to him, a lovely flush spreading from her face to her chest. “No,” she said unconvincingly. She slid her chair closer to his, the bar stool so high she had to hop onto it to sit. It was frightfully cute, and Azriel had to restrain from kissing her again.

He couldn’t help it in the street. The sight of her – rumpled, breathless, her face alight with joy – was too much for him.

She was beginning to be too much for him.

The longer he was with her, the more of her he was allowed to have, the more he feared he could never go back to just a simple friendship. This female would either be his salvation or his ruination, either of which he would happily accept if it meant he could savour every minute he had left with her.

Under the table, she linked their hands, and Azriel thought he might very well die from the touch.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to enjoy our plans.” He rubbed his thumb against her finger.

She smiled his way, her eyes crinkling at the sides. “It’s okay.” She looked down, biting her lip. “I went to your room. I saw what you had done.”

He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She removed her hand from his and placed it on his thigh. “I loved it.”

He shifted in his seat, glad that the tablecloth was long enough so that anyone around, if they looked, would only see their ankles. “You’re playing with fire right now,” he chucked under his breath as she continued to stroke his thigh.

“I especially liked the mirror on the ceiling. May I ask, what purpose does it serve?” Her smile may have been all innocent, but the way her hand was moving was anything but.

She leant against him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

“It was for your pleasure.”

“Is that right?”

He brushed his lips to her ear, grateful that the dim lights of the bar kept them in the shadows and that the dancing bodies kept their scents hidden. And over the live music, no one would hear them. “Mhm. It was so that, no matter what position I put you in, you could watch me.”

She tipped her head back, humming in acknowledgement. Her hand, already in dangerous territory, swept down his increasingly hard length.

He grunted, laying both his hands on the table and fisting the cloth.

“Is this okay?” she asked, breathless.

He nodded, taking a swig of his drink to distract him.

She brushed her hand down again, bolder this time, and he squirmed in his chair.

“I would take it out, but I fear it would be seen over the table. So inside it stays,” she sighed. “It must be hard being so large.” She put her lips to his ear, mimicking what he had done to her. “I do love it though. The size, the taste, I think about it constantly.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he choked out. “But at least I’d die happy.”

Her hand slipped inside his pants, and he couldn’t help but thrust up into her hand. He tilted his head back in pleasure as she worked him, getting the angles just right as she pumped him. He was unbelievably aroused by the public act, barely able to believe that she’d do something so audacious. But Cauldron have mercy, he would do anything if it meant she was touching him. She could ask to ride him right now in the middle of this bar and he would blissfully indulge.

“I’m going to finish soon,” he warned her.

“I can’t wait for you to finish in me.”

Her words were his undoing, and he felt the edge of the table splinter under his grip as he contained his moan of pleasure.

He stared at her as she pulled her hand from him, offering him a serviette to clean himself like she hadn’t just given him a mind-blowing orgasm where anyone could have seen.

“Az?” she asked after a few, content minutes of silence.

“Yes, Gwyneth?”

“Do you think we could go dance?”

***

Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relentlessly happy. Azriel flew her and Emerie back to the House of Wind, the latter looking forlorn as they finally left the bar in the small hours of the morning.

Rhys and Feyre had left much earlier, Nyx too small to stay up that late, and if Gwyn was being honest she was surprised they lasted as long as they did. Feyre seemed fine, but Rhys was in a shocking mood. Every time she asked Azriel about it, he just muttered about Rhys being a jerk without elaborating. She could tell that whatever it was, it was sensitive, so she didn’t push him.

Her and Nesta put a very intoxicated Emerie to bed, stripping her and putting her into some pyjamas before tucking her in nice and tight with some herbs on her nightstand that would help her head in the morning. Azriel and Cassian had already gone to their respective bedrooms, and Gwyn contemplated how she was going to sneak into Azriel’s room when Nesta stopped her.

“Can we talk for a second?”

“Of course.”

Nesta led her to the library, and they plopped themselves onto one of the plush couches. Gwyn faced her as she sat, tucking her feet under Nesta’s thighs to keep them warm.

Two hot chocolates appeared to them on a table, a dish of marshmallows to the side. They whispered their thanks to the House, claiming the warm drinks. Gwyn pressed hers up against her face, liking the warmth on her skin.

“What do you want to talk about?” Gwyn asked, taking a sip.

“Azriel. You. You and Azriel.” Nesta patted her shin, and Gwyn put her drink down. This wasn’t a hot chocolate kind of conversation.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

“Do you love him, Gwyn? Because if you did, or even if you don’t, you don’t have to sneak around Cassian and I and pretend nothing is happening. You can live here, forever if you want. All four of us in the House.”

“Nesta-”

“Imagine if we both had our families and babies here. It’s a big place, we wouldn’t get in each other’s way. And maybe Emerie could come too and she could fall in love too and we’d all be so happy. Okay, I’m rambling and that was weird. What I’m trying to say is – is that you can Azriel are so obviously together and I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out why you’re keeping it a secret from us, not that I care that you have secrets you’re an adult and you don’t have to tell me everything, and I’m so fucking happy for you, Gwyn, and I want you to know that you can be publicly happy, if you want.”  

“Nesta…”

“I just love this. You and him. I’ve never seen Azriel so happy and you just smile all the time. And, oh, it reminds me of Cassian. In the way that I can see ourselves reflected in you two, and I wonder if maybe if I hadn’t been so,” she gestured at her head, “you know, then I could have just been this happy from the start of us, with him, like you two. So I need you to know that if you want that, if you want him, I am so incredibly supportive and I will do anything you want if it means you get your happily ever after. Okay, I’m done.”

“Nesta.”

“And I also would just love to know how this all began. Like the secret little smiles and observations that I’ve had for as long as I’ve known you just changed one day. And I know you guys used to train alone sometimes and I know you were always here with him, and me and Cas but I can’t pinpoint when your friendship turned into this.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, I really am done now.”

“Are you sure?” Gwyn pinched her cheek lovingly, and Nesta swatted it away.

“Yes.”

Gwyn took a second to think about her words, and as nice and idyllic as they sounded, Gwyn wasn’t sure they were the truth.

“Nesta, we aren’t together.”

“What?”

“We have a…” Gwyn struggled to find the words. “Deal? Agreement?”

“A sexy agreement?”

Gwyn laughed. “No. Well, yes actually.” She launched into the story of how her and Azriel had started their bargain, detailing how Azriel had agreed to help her overcome her fear, and how much they practised towards her ultimate goal of sex. Gwyn also expressed how their closeness was something she treasured, as spending so much time together naturally led to a deepening in their friendship. Her face stained pink as she told her of some of the things they had done, but how, after over a month together, that hadn’t actually sealed the deal.

Nesta was silent the entire story, letting Gwyn speak her truth. She was contemplative over Gwyn’s words, not saying anything until she was done speaking.

“Before I say anything, I want to let you know how incredibly proud of you I am, and how much I support wanting to explore yourself and your sexuality. No matter what I say, I need you to know that.”

Well, that wasn’t a good start.

“I understand, Nesta.”

“Gwyn, do you love him?”

Gwyn took a deep breath. It was a topic she often pushed from her mind, unable or not wanting to broach the subject. “I don’t know.”

“It’s a yes or no, Gwyn.”

Gwyn shrugged her shoulders. “What if it’s a ‘I’m not sure because I so thoroughly blurred the lines between what was real and what I asked him to do to help me?’ What if it’s a ‘I don’t know if I could say it to him but if he said it to me, I would say it back in an instant?’”

“Do you know how he feels about you? Has he said anything?”

Gwyn shook her head. “I know we’re friends. I know he cares about me. I know he would do anything I asked of him. I know he must love me, in some way, but I don’t know if it’s love-love or platonic love.”

“And he’s never given any sort of indication of his intentions?”

Gwyn pondered how thoughtful he was, how detail oriented he was to her pleasure and how he was the best part of her day. And as she thought about it, about him, who was so caring and lovable and agreeable, and she realised that a lot of what he did for her – the comfort, the talking, the support – he would do for anyone.

“I’ve never asked.” Her breath shuddered, and Nesta put a hand to her cheek.

“Maybe you should.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do? What if I’m just an obligation?”

“Oh, my love.” Nesta repositioned them so that Gwyn was lying down, her head in Nesta’s lap, as Nesta lovingly stroked her hair. It reminded Gwyn so much of what Catrin used to do that she couldn’t help the tears that started to shed.

“It’s better to know what you are to him. If it’s any consolation, I think he cares about you a great deal. Maybe even loves you. It’s hard to tell when he’s naturally so cold.”

He wasn’t cold, she wanted to say, he was the warmest person she knew. Instead, she cried, and she let Nesta comfort her like she always did.

***

A few days passed, and although Gwyn never left the House, her sexual relations with Az didn’t progress. Rather, they stopped altogether. He didn’t mind at all, he was just glad for her company. They talked and trained, and Azriel was surprised that somehow he could be even more impressed of her than before.

She also started doing what he called her ‘casual kisses.’

They would be doing something monotonous, like sorting weapons for training the next day, and she could kiss him as she walked by him. Or they would be sitting in bed reading, and she would lean over and brush her lips to his temple.

It became a game, who could casually kiss the other first if the opportunity arose, and it was the best game Az had ever played.

He felt himself looking forward to the nights even if the only touching they did was cuddling until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Azriel wondered if this is what home felt like.

It was late, and Gwyn decided that she needed to return to the library before people started to question where she was. Az didn’t have the heart to tell her they already were.

“I had the most interesting conversation with Nesta the other day,” she said as they reached the door that would take her away.

“What about?”

Gwyn fiddled with her fingers, trepidation oozing from her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry starting to maw at him.

“I’m fine.” She turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to kiss her on her hairline. He loved the height different between them, it made him feel bigger than he was. “Nesta asked me about us. She has suspected for a while.”

He schooled his face into neutrality. As far as Gwyn knew, this was new information to him.

He hadn’t told her a word of what had happened between them and Rhys, and it would stay that way. All it would do was hurt her, and Azriel was serious when he said no harm would ever come her way from him. She did not need to know that Rhys was acting like a tool.

In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t need to read minds to know that Rhys was highly suspicious of them both. And more so, as much as it pained him to admit, how much Rhys disapproved. He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t bear to ask, but he had a good idea. Rhys, as much as he loved Az, must know that he would never be good enough for Gwyn. The idea had plagued him for days, and the only thing that drove away the dark thoughts were the casual kisses Gwyn would bestow upon him.

“How do you feel about that?” he asked her, snapping back to their conversation.

She shrugged. “At first I was worried, but now I’m actually kind of relieved.”

“Why were you worried?”

“You know, it’s weird. I had it in my head that if people knew I was on this mission to achieve some ultimate, empowering orgasm that they might judge me. But Nesta never would, and I felt like an idiot as soon as she looked at me and told me she knew we were,” she gestured between them, “touching.”

Az snickered. “Touching is one way to sum it up.”

“She asked me something I couldn’t answer.”

“What was that?”

“She asked me what we are.” She brushed her hands over his chest absentmindedly. “What I am to you.”

He clasped her hands and held them to his heart, trying to make her look at him when she was purposefully focusing on the floor.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her the truth. That I don’t know what I am to you.”

“Gwyn…”

“I need to say something, and I beg you not to interrupt until I’m done.” She sniffled, and he hated the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away, facing him with steel. “I genuinely approached you with nothing but friendship in mind. I had a plan, to sleep with you once and then go back to how we always were before – me, as your overly competitive but absolute best student, and you as, as this God of a man that I could not believe even walked the same existence as me, let alone be someone I considered a friend. You were my ribbon Az. The thing I wanted to be as good as. And then you said yes to me. I didn’t expect you to. I half-thought you would laugh because you thought I was joking. But you didn’t, and you said yes, and I have made the grave mistake of developing feelings I swore to myself I wouldn’t.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth before he could.

“I had every intention of having sex with you until Nesta asked me what I was to you. And then I realised that if all I was to you was a proposition to uphold, I couldn’t do it. I can’t be with you just once. I can’t be just friends if we take that last step. So, Az, I’m asking you, and please don’t feel obligated to say anything you don’t feel, but what am I to you?”

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like his ribs were being ripped apart and then shoved back together until his lungs were caged too tightly. He knew what he wanted to say, that of course she was more than that, she was everything, but then he thought of her spirit being crushed by his inadequacies, and how she could do so much better now that she was ready to. She was pure, she was light, and she deserved more than his darkness.

He had been quiet too long.

Watching her was like watching a porcelain doll shatter after being dropped. Her face crumbled, and she pulled her hands away from him as she tried to contain herself.

“You’re my best friend.” He finally said, his own tears stinging at his eyes. “I can’t lose you.” Which he would, if she stayed with him and realised how truly broken he was.

A sob fractured her chest, and Az hated the way her voice sounded when she spoke. “You’re my best friend, too.”

And then they were kissing. It tasted like salt from their tears and was more passionate and heart-wrenching than any of the kisses they’d had before. They were drowning, their only hope at salvation one another as they clung to each other with all the strength they had.

Azriel didn’t want to let her go. He knew once he did that it would be over. His month of bliss, of final contentment, would be over. Part of him wished Nesta had never opened her mouth, or that he’d been able to tell the truth, but all of him wished that he was someone else, or that he was more like his brothers, so that he was good enough for her.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was not so she could leave. They still clung to each other, breathing in each other’s scents, well into the night.

When she whispered goodbye, part of his soul left with her as she walked away.

He lied to her by staying silent. He should have told her the truth, that what he was feeling went deeper than affection, maybe even deeper than love. But this lie protected her, and he would take it to his grave.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Humans 101.”

Sorry for not posting yesterday. I have had the WORST motivation the past few weeks, but I thought you might like to see some more of Krill. Hope you all have a great day!

Krill walked up the university hallway turning his head to look out the window at the vast expanse of space before him. It had been a very long time since he had been to University, in the Vrul sense of the word, which was less like University and more like on the job training, but he had recently accepted an assignment at the Intergalactic Institute of Biological Science. Granted, he wasn’t a real professor, not fully, but an adjunct who had signed on to do a series of lectures for the next few months while he waited for Admiral Vir’s return. 

Since Simon had become acting Captain of the ship, it seemed that there was less and less reason for him to be there. She wasn’t experienced enough to take on the real dangerous assignments that the Admiral had excelled at, and due to her rule following nature, and the assignments they were sent on, mostly diplomatic and exploratory in nature, Krill had found less and less use for himself on the ship. He didn’t expect to be gone forever, and he doubted he would be able to leave at this point.

He couldn’t return to his home planet, not now there was a standing order for his termination, which he was planning to avoid with great prejudice. Though he found it wildly Ironic that they had asked him to come teach, when many of the professors at the school were, in fact, other Vrul.

It was with this small piece of amusement that he scuttled into the lecture room: Large and circular with seats rising on all sides and a projection hub right in the middle. The room was already packed full despite him being five minutes early. He had been told his lecture series would be popular, but he hadn’t expected there to be standing room only, and even then, there were students sitting on the floor, and a few Vrul floating in the air high above other students' heads.

He moved to the center of the room to set up his projections and, from the corner of his eye watched as a few of the front row students shifted back slightly. The Tesraki, Rundi and Finnari students didn’t seem to notice, but the Vrul students certainly did, sarong at him like he was some sort of freak.

He  could hear the whispering, and he reveled in it.

It was nice to be intimidating sometimes.

Overhead the lights flashed once, and then twice, and the entire room went quiet expectantly looking down at him with their wide eyes.

He drew himself up Resting two of his hands together and another two behind his back as he began pacing his way around the projection field. Students Continued to whisper quietly, “Good morning class, My name is Dr. Krill Galaxy renowned trauma surgeon, and the galactic leading expert in xeno-medicine with an emphasis in humanity.”

There was a uiet muttering around the room.

“I have been acting medical officer aboard the UNSC Omen once Harbinger for more than two years, and I have practiced surgery in hospitals From Andromeda and Irus to the milky way and Earth.”

More shifting wide eyes and some nervous muttering.

He looked around the room shrewdly at all the new faces, “How many of you are interested in working with the intergalactic community.”

A slow raise of hands.

“Then I should probably let you know. Humanity has begun to profuse through all the major sectors of space, business, government, shipping, sales, medical. Humans are everywhere, and humans can do anything. If you wish to work in the wider intergalactic community, you will be working with humans, and many of you will work extremely closely with humans.”

Nervous expressions all around.

“I noticed many of you, the Vrul students especially have noticed the strange effect that spending time with humans can have on an individual.”

He looked around and saw some acknowledgement.

“The colloquial term for it is called the humanizing phenomenon and it will happen to you no matter how hard you try. Scientists have said that you will become more aggressive in order to interact with humans, your movements will become more predatory, you will come to focus on facial cues and the pitch of voices to determine emotion, and soon,you will even begin to utilize human body language in order to communicate better with them.” He motioned to himself, “Out of all the alien species,I have spent the most time with humans, and as you can see, I communicate primarily in a way that humans would understand, mostly with nonverbal body cues. I don’t often use my helium sack as I get in the way with keeping up with humans.” he turned to look around at the room, “Human’s no longer scare me. As pack animals, your social influence is often more important than your physical influence. Given the fact that I have built myself up in social influence within a human pack, I no longer worry myself with being round humans. In fact, I Have never been safer in my entire life.”

His antenna vibrated slightlin amusement, “In fact it is well known that I already have a termination order placed on my head by the Vrul council.”

There was a shocked gasp from certain Vrul parts of the room.

He swaggered about the room a little smugly. He didn’t usually get reactions like this from people.

“They actually took me from an assembly meeting with the GA and brought me back for termination, but one of my humans, as I certainly do consider them mine as much as they consider me theirs, came and rescued me single handedly.”

Another murmuring from around the room.

“How did he do it?”

They waited.

“He used his complex human vocal cords and clapping to simulate a beat. In that way he disabled all the guards, and climbed his way up the guiding rope to the council chamber.”

More soft muttering.

“If you make friends with a human, you are probably as safe as you are ever going to be, especially if you happen to become friends with a very audacious human=, in which case there is nothing that they will not do for you.” He spun on the spot, “Enough for introductions, I will please have you open your files to page one of the textbook, and we will go over a brief discussion of human mechanical anatomy.”

There was a shuffling around the room as Data pads were produced.

Krill brought up an anatomical projection of a human. Looking up it amused him to know that this anatomical model, the one used in almost every nonhuman textbook, was modeled on one single human, that being Adam Vir, all accept for the right leg of course, which was modeled on another human of similar height.

“Humans are are omnivorous bipeds with an endoskeletal structure supported by a vascular system. I know a lot of you have been wrongfully told that humans are primarily carnivores, though that is not true, while human can eat a variety of foods, there are humans that choose to live without eating meat, and they can be sustained on a herbivore diet if they wish. As you can see here, the front facing eyes of the human mark them off as a predator species, though this isn’t always the perfect indicator. Vrul eyes are on the front, but, as we know, Vrul also have prismatic vision that is more closely related that of insects on an earth-like planet.” he glanced around the room, “These predator classifications only exist for a class of alien known as the vascular type, which uses a pump to push fluid through the body. As you know Vrul, Burg, Gromm, and Lumins as well as a few others are not represented in this category.”

“Can anyone tell me which species ARE classified as the vascular subtype.”

There was a raised hand and he pointed, “You there.”

“I can provide a short list sir, Tesraki, Rundi, Humans, and Drev to name a few, but the Drev are a notable outlier for this rule because their war-like culture has supported the slow movement of the eyes towards the front of the face despite them being a herbivore species.”

Krill nodded, “Very good. Yes, humans are in fact a REAL predator species, however it is important to note that the greater 80% of human diets are supported by fruits and vegetables. Based on the amount and distribution of consumed foods, humans are actually closer to herbivores in their dietary choices than they are carnivores.”

There was a soft muttering around the room. Either disbelief or interest, he couldn't tell.

“Historically, humans would have evolved from tree dwelling omnivores, though their diets would also have been primarily fruit, and maybe insects as hunting only really came after they moved to land based travel on two legs. As far as earth animals are concerned, humans are not a top tier predator, and years of life in padded habitats using technology have actually dulled their hunting senses and abilities. A human COULD take a chunk out of you with their teeth, but they certainly wouldn’t WANT to. It would definitely be a last resort. Following that, humans only eat cooked meat as they can grow very sick on consuming certain raw products.”

The class shifted and whispered to each other.

“Yes, I know you have been told many strange and odd things about humans, but most of those are heavily exaggerated. However, it is true that humans are more versatile than most of us. Humans can run, walk, climb, throw, jump and swim, and while they don’t do any of those particularly well, their ability to do all of them  to some degree makes them the most versatile alien in the GA. Furthermore humans also have a multitude of senses, ones that are common to most of us balance, heat cold, pain, etcetera, but there is one sense that they have which is very uncommon in the galaxy, and that is a sense of smell.”

All around him, students were taking notes, “This is the ability for a human to detect particles in the air and, often, identify their sources. Everything sheds particles, and the human nose can pick up those particles. For instance humans generally like the smell of Iotans because Iotins shed compounds similar to foods that humans like to eat. Once upon a time it might have been used to help humans detect poison or other predators, but like I have said before, a human is a middleman in abilities. All of a human’s senses are relatively dull in comparison to some of their earth counterparts.”

He turned to his projector and flipped it to the anatomical structure of a dog, one that had been oddled off the only dog that many aliens had ever met.

Waffles the admiral’s dog.

“This creature’s sense of smell is powerful enough,they have been known to track a sent trail for miles through densely wooded forests. They can smell a change in hormone and pheromone levels on other creatures, and are even being used to detect certain diseases. The best a human can do is smell a cooking meal.”

He walked in a wide circle looking out at the students, some of them looking excited, others staring on in trepidation.

“Human eyesight is on a similar level to their smell. Humans have binocular vision which makes their depth perception quite good. A human is perfectly capable of snatching a flying object out of the air as their predatory instincts draw them to movement. This also makes humans very adept at navigating through obstacles like they might once have had to do in trees. Furthermore, it allows them to guess distance to prey during hunting.” He switched to a picture of a drev, “However humans do not have the best vision out of all aliens species. While the acuity of a human and a Drev are similar, Drev can detect Ultraviolet wavelengths where humans can only see the visible spectrum.” He looked at some of the Vrul, “Take solace in the knowledge that you can see thermal where humans cannot. They have relatively poor night vision, but better than that of you or I and far better than the Drev who traded the use of multiple cones to very frew light sensing rods.”

He looked up from his lecturing, “Are there any questions so far.”

Every had in the room shot into the air.

He paused to look at them faces lit by the glowing bluish light of the hologram behind him and sighed, he supposed this is what he was here for.

“Let’s star in the back then, shall we.”

One of the hands went down.

“Sir, is it true that humans are capable of surviving cortical tissue damage.”

Krill snorted, a sound he probably shouldnt have been able to make since he didn’t have a nose but one he had learned how to make because it expressed a very important emotion when interacting with humans. The entire class looked at him funny.

He sighed, “Yes, The first surgery I preformed on a human involved removing an eight inch steel rod from an eye socket which had gone into cortical tissue. To this day that human… well hes been doing fine, a bit of a dumbass sometimes, but I think that was a part of his personality before brain damage.”

They stared at him confused until Krill realised that dumbass probably wasn’t in their vocabulary. It probably translated to silent butt or idiot butt which didn’t have the same kind of ring to it.

Krill waved a hand, “In certain cases humans have been known to survive with only one hemisphere of their brain.”

A chorus of disbelief, “It is true, in certain cases where electrical abnormalities n the brain cause convulsions, surgeons intentionally remove half the brain to increase quality of life. There are a couple of downsides to this of course, like the inability to play musical instruments, but most humans still live a productive and fulfilling life after the procedure.”

More hands shot up again.

He turned and chose one at Random.

“Can humans smell fear”

Krill frowned, “No humans can’t smell fear. Whoever told you that was smoking something.”The class stared blankly at him until he picked another hand.

“Are you worried that the humans will ever…. Turn on you?”

Krill raised his hands into the air in exasperation, “They are SENTIENT beings not wild animals  Humans have strict social rules like you or anyone else. It would be illegal for them to hurt me , and I doubt they would let it happen at all. Humans aren’t feral. In fact my partner aboard the ship is Doctor Katie Quinn, and she is just as experienced in the field of medicine as I am. SHe can match me in almost any medical procedure and she only has two cortical hemispheres, and less than half the amount of hands.”

He frowned at the room, “I have no idea where ou all got these ideas from. Humans are thinking creatures not animals. The reason they survived on their planet is not because they are the strongest predator, but because they are the smartest, just like you or I. the only difference between us is that the Human planet is so hostile, they have been forced to keep some of their more instinctive tendencies.”

More hands raised.

“Have you seen one of these larger earth animals, sir?”

“Yes on plenty of occasions.” He flipped his diagram back to that of a dog, “This animal here is called a dog, the ancestral  evolution of the wolf, which is just a much larger version of this animal here. These animals are higher on the food chain that humans and have the ability to easily outrun, attack and rip the throat out of a human.” He paused as the class pulled back, “Which is why humans often use them in security, protection and law enforcement, because no human wants to fight one of these creatures.” He smiled a bit grimly, “Also humans just love to keep them as pets.”

There was an uproar around the room.

How could anyone want to keep something that could rip their face off as a pet.

Krill raised a hand to quiet down the room, “I know, I know, it all sounds very strange, but you must understand, humans and dogs are both descended from highly social pack groups. At one point a human took wolf cubs and began raising them and breeding them for desirable traits. As wolves are pack animals they slowly would have begun to see humans as members of their own pack family. In this humans molded a creature into being one of their greatest allies. Dogs rely on humans and humans rely on dogs for many jobs. Humans love dogs and dogs love humans. In fact, humans have bred this animal so extensively that dogs are one of the only creatures on their own planet capable of reading human facial expressions.”

He pulled up an image from his personal files, one where Adam sat on the floor, and the dog Waffles sat next to him. He made a face as her long, pink tongue ran up the side of his cheek.

The class gasped.

“She could easily use this opportunity to kill him.” krill said, “But she never would.” He turned to another image of himself standing next to the dog, a hand resting on her back.

More gasping.

Krill was somewhat amused. “Humans, as I said are social in the extreme, and this fact is going to be our best ally when meeting them. Anyone and anything can become part of a human pack. In fact, this instinct in humans is so strong that inanimate objects can easily be accepted into a human’s pack. They routinely name plants and attribute personalities to them. I once conducted an experiment where I placed fake eyes.” Googly eyes to be exact, “On a waste receptacle, and the humans named him Mr. Rubbish and began throwing away their items exclusively in that specific receptacle as ‘Offerings’ to Mr Rubbish….. That is not a joke, that actually happened.” He appraised them with a stern look, “Befriending humans is the most important thing you can do, and probably one of the easiest things as well. If you find yourself incapable of making friends with a human, its probably time to look at yourself personally because you must be horrible.” he pointed to himself, “I will openly admit that my personality isn’t exactly the easiest to be around, and yet I still managed it on accident.”

His lecture continued for some minutes, covering more anatomy, bone structures and some interesting facts about their internal organs.

However he was forced to stop as little lights began blinking overhead, and he went to dismiss the class, “Next week we will be discussing the effects of adrenaline on humans as a special treat to those who decide to return after this first lecture. And for your assignment, I want you to find one news article that perpetuates a myth about humans and write a short essay debunking it. Since this is the first week I am going lenient on assignments but by the end of the term I do expect full essays at publishable quality.”

Everyone in the class stood, and he found himself suddenly swarmed by a mass of figures.

It seemed as if he was going to be here for a while.

Little did Krill know that his lecture series was becoming so popular that the administration was going to have to upgrade his lecture hall two more times in the concurrent weeks.

Everyone wanted to know about humans.

[saturnity]

Telling Tenya Iida to take care of himself. Tenya Iida x Gender Neutral, Best Friend Reader.

(authors note: this is my first full length fic in...a while. motivation hit me like a brick and I decided I'd churn something out! this fic is dedicated to a few special friends: @classreptenyaiida, for the interactions I've had with him, @yarozu for being such a great fan and supporter!! @lostcoves for being my first friend on this platform and for being so so kind to me, @uwu-iwanttodie because god I know you're a sucker for tenya just like i am, and @tryingmyves for sticking around and being a wonderful person!! there's also one more special person this fic is dedicated to but I don't know their tumblr url and if they wish to be named LOL // but yes anyway, enjoy! i hope you like this, feel free to send me any feedback, rts and follows appreciated!!!)

warnings: none! all fluff. good for everyone.

Tenya Iida and (f/n l/n). The both of you were inseparable, friends since childhood, in the same class throughout elementary and middle school. You were overjoyed to hear that you’d be in the same class with him again in UA, brimming with excitement to be able to stick by his side for longer. Of course, you had a crush on him ever since you could remember...but you were really too scared, terrified, really, to confess to him- in fear of ruining your 15 years of friendship.

Out of all people, you were the person who knew how determined Tenya was to not only reach, but exceed his goals and aspirations. You knew how much he wanted to satisfy the people around him and meet their expectations. You didn’t exactly understand why he did it, but you knew how driven he was, and how he’d do anything within the law and the rules to get there. And he rarely failed. Tenya was a great inspiration in your life, encouraging you to do better, while growing together. In a way, he influenced you to work hard, train harder and to do your hardest. The both of you became a force to be reckoned with; your parents and Tenya’s parents realised this, and hoped you’d do great things as heroes in the future, allowing you to spend weekends and holidays together.

Throughout your first term, Tenya enthusiastically took up the role as representative of Class 1-A with pride. He’d come to you for feedback for his ideas, always asking your opinion before proceeding, and you’d be his biggest cheerleader. You improved ideas he delivered, making sure small details were tweaked, and ensured logistics ran smoothly. Whenever Tenya needed help, you were the first he’d go to. Tenya presumed the role of a figure of strength within Class 1-A, readily assisting people in need, hosting study groups after school, and going the extra mile to make sure everyone was...more or less, in line. His work towards being a ‘good hero’ started here, and it wouldn’t stop until his last breath. As an Iida, he worked daily to strengthen his reputation as a helpful, strong figure...no, a reputation as a hero.

But inside, you knew Tenya was tired. He was slowly burning himself out. He didn’t need a savior, but he needed someone to shake him awake. There were days where you’d find Tenya a little less awake than usual, even though he seemed to have the same amount of energy as every other day. You’d catch him zoning out after school days ended, maybe he’d drop from his chopsticks once more than normal at lunch, and sometimes he’d even forget to bring certain things to school. Your best friend definitely wasn’t sleeping or resting enough.

You did your best to make sure Tenya was taking care of himself. Sometimes, you would gently remind him to drink more water, or to get more sleep. Other times, you’d deliberately book ‘study sessions’ with him, only to do the exact opposite- taking him to a cafe for a ‘change of environment’, introducing him to several new drinks and cakes, much to his dismay. Or maybe you’d eat lunch on one of the school rooftops, and allow him to take a nap afterwards on your shoulder while you ran your fingers through his coarse, navy hair. Perhaps you’d relax at your house, a movie would be playing on the TV, and while he’d feverishly insist on studying or doing something more ‘productive’, you’d gently but stubbornly insist that he rest. As the days passed, Tenya placed his focus on his ambitions, and your opportunities to ensure his leisure decreased.

One night, you wondered why Tenya pushed himself so hard. Was it because he was a people pleaser? There were definitely times where he would be almost too eager to help others. Or was it because he decided to shoulder his world of responsibility alone? Maybe it was because he was constantly surrounded by good examples of what a hero should be, that he held the burden of his family name, that he was expected to be the next best thing for the hero community...or maybe it was all of the above. Tenya had been working tirelessly for this; yet he didn’t know when or how to take care of himself and to forget to be selfless. He was always running to help others, always thinking in the position of others, or whatever would be better for the future. You didn’t remember the last time he did something for himself. Regardless, you decided that you’d definitely work a little harder to make sure your best friend would care for himself. After all, everyone needed someone else to lean on, right?

You shook your head. “No. I’m serious. You need to rest. Or at least take it easy this weekend.”

Finally, one Friday afternoon, you saw Tenya yawn in class for the first time. He looked close to falling asleep, in fact, you could say he was positively exhausted. His eyelids fluttered downward, their weight becoming heavier and heavier with each blink. Inside, he was praying he wouldn’t get picked on to answer a question- he just wasn’t really following the class material anymore. Or worse, he hoped Mr. Aizawa wouldn’t assign group work- it’d mean he would have to actively interact with other people, which he didn’t have the energy for. Thankfully, the bell rang, and the gray, bleary-eyed teacher dismissed his class, unfurling his sleeping bag and escaping the room to get a nap himself. You walked up to Tenya’s desk and playfully smacked his arm, shocking him a little more awake. He adjusted his glasses and looked up to you.

“Heeey. Someone’s looking tired.”

“I suppose I didn’t sleep quite enough last night, (y/n).” Tenya grinned. To the normal eye, it would seem like one of the class rep’s normal, signature smiles, but to you, there was a fatigued weakness shielded behind its sunny exterior.

You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve said that every day for the last month and a half.”

“I know, I know. There’s so much work I need to get to, in fact, I should return to my dorm soon to st-” Tenya had finished gathering his things and prepared to leave the classroom, until your hand reached out onto one of his broad shoulders and pressed him back down onto his seat.

“No you fucking don’t.” You folded your arms, a frown plastered to your face.

Tenya scowled. “Please, (y/n), can we joke around later? I have to get th-”

“Look, if you’re aiming to be a successful hero in the future, you might as well take your own advice that you give so often to others and rest. You always tell us to make sure we get enough sleep, and you’re not even doing it yourself. If you’re tired or sick, you won’t be able to perform as well as you want to, right? And you always want to be at your best, don’t you, Ten?”

“But-” Tenya protested. He had so much work to do, so much to get to.

“Tenya Iida. In our 15 years of friendship, I’ve never seen you this fucking tired. We’re only in our first year. Are you going to keep doing this throughout school? Or what, the rest of your life? For the love of god, cut yourself some slack.” You almost yelled out in protest, in disgust of seeing your best friend suffer in silence.

Tenya stared at you in shock. You’ve never spoken to him like this before, or at least, it was rare. Usually you played more of a supportive role by his side, and when you were more assertive, you were never this pushy. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he heard you shout. The remaining members of Class 1-A who hadn’t yet left the room stared at the both of you in a similar amount of surprise as your bespectacled classmate did. After sighing, you decided to use reason that Tenya would buy into, desperately hoping he would do as you said.

“Then it’s settled. We’re gonna take it easy this weekend, okay? And don’t apologise for making me worry. It’s my job to look out for you, you know. And we haven’t napped together in a while too. I kinda miss that.” You brought Tenya into a hug.

Tenya sighed. You were right. He couldn’t hide that he was tired. And honestly, it was exhausting having to troop through each class with the meager 4-5 hours of shut-eye he was getting. It was a battle that he knew he was losing. He surrendered to your suggestion.

“I...uh...suppose you’re right. Sorry for making you worry.” Right after Tenya had finished that sentence, he yawned. There was really no hiding his tiredness now.

“Hey...(y/n)? Thank you. I appreciate you doing this.” Tenya smiled, as he reciprocated your warmth.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

[autist-tips]

Autistic Tip #5

Executive dysfunction can make it feel impossible to be productive, even when you need to be. Especially during the pandemic, when we’re stuck at home without our usual routine, this is a big issue. Here’s some things that help me work through my executive dysfunction:

Note: These tips might not work for you! If you don’t feel comfortable doing some of these things, don’t feel pressured to! I have memory issues along with my autism so I need a highly structured life to be productive. You may not need as much structure as me!

Write down events and to dos.

Having everything you need to do written down takes a lot of burden off you mind and helps you feel less stressed. It also helps with memory issues if you have them.

Checking tasks and events off of lists and calendars help with a passive sense of accomplishment, which can make it easier to be productive.

Always looks at the amount of things you did throughout the day. You do much more than you think you do!

Suggested methods:

1) Write events down on a calendar.

Write everything you need to do on a calendar. Meetings, classes, family events, work, etc. You want to have this information in multiple places. For example, I use my phone’s calendar, which is synced to my laptop’s calendar. I also have a sticker on my wall that’s a weekly calendar, so I can focus on the things I need to do for the week!

Check off events as they pass and look at all the functions you attended! Be proud of yourself for not missing things!

2) Have a daily and weekly to do list.

These are lists of things you have to do every day and every week. This will mostly consist of chores, self care, pet care, and meals. It’s your choice what is a daily thing and what is a weekly thing. Put absolutely everything down, no matter how small!

It’s a good idea to hang these lists somewhere you can easily see them. As you do the tasks on the lists, you can check them off (I use sticky notes so I don’t ruin the list, since mine is paper.) You can use a whiteboard for this if you want!

As you check things off, you’ll notice just how much you actually get done and how fast you do it! That alone can make it easier to keep doing tasks so you can see that list filled up with checks! You can even reward yourself once your daily to do is done!

3) Make another daily to do list.

Alright, this one is different from #2. This list is a list of electives to do in a day.

I use this mostly for my college assignments. I pick 3-5 assignments (usually small ones) to do that day, but are not due that day. (I try to stay ahead so I can keep my lists as electives, since close due dates can make executive function worse.) Make sure to make this list the day that you’ll be doing the tasks. Planning in advance can make it harder to actually do them. You want to catch your own brain off guard here!

Again, as you complete things, check them off! The point of this list is to feel super good! You’re doing things ahead of time! Look at how productive that is!

Alternate between work and fun

Moving between something fun and something not so fun can help you get things done without getting bored or side tracked!

Doing something you enjoy right after doing work is rewarding!

Suggested methods:

1) Listen to/Watch a video while you work.

This is best for when you’re doing tasks that don’t require too much thinking, like chores or cooking. You can watch a YouTube video, watch TV, listen to a podcast, or something else while you do the things you need to get done.

This makes it 100x easier for me to do chores! Yeah, I might be folding laundry, which is long and boring, but I’m also watching an episode of my favorite show! Or a video on my current special interest! As far as my brain is concerned, I’m relaxing, not working.

2) Work, Relax, Repeat.

For things that require more thought, you can use this method. Pick an item on your to do list and do it. Or, if it’s too long for you to bring yourself to do, do a part of it. Need to type a paper but you can’t even get out of bed? Just move to your desk or grab your laptop and move on to the next step.

Now, pick something you enjoy doing, but be conscious of what it is. Don’t pick something you can easily get stuck on, like reading or social media. Pick something that has clear start and end points, like one battle in pokemon, or one episode of a show.

Then, go and do another task. After that, do something else you enjoy. And repeat again and again until you’re done for the day! This switching can get time consuming, but it’s so much better than not being able to do anything at all!

Know when to take a break

Take as many breaks during the day as you need to! Take an entire day off to relax if you feel you need it! Don’t burn yourself out by trying to brute force through everything. In the long run, this will make it harder for you to be productive.

Be mindful of health conditions

This section may seem counter productive, but these tips are meant to help long term.

If you have a condition that makes you feel unwell or causes you pain, addressing that condition will make it easier to be productive.

Suggestions:

1) If you feel unwell, lower your work load

Regardless of how busy you are, if you feel sick, don’t push yourself! Listen to your body. If it’s telling you you’re done for the day, you’re done. It’s not the end of the world if you miss something for your health. And don’t feel guilty about it either. Your well being is more important than a chore or assignment.

2) If you’re physically incapable of something, don’t try to do it

I’ll use myself as an example for this one. I have double-jointed wrists that get strained easily, so I can’t type a lot despite being a college student. So, I can only spend so much time on assignments in a day.

The first week of quarantine, I worked on my laptop twice as much as usual (among other things) and I got an overuse injury. I couldn’t even use my phone, much less my laptop for four (4) days. That was a lot of missed time.

TLDR: you might think you’re being more productive short term by pushing your limits, but in a few days there’ll be consequences. Please don’t hurt yourself.

Anyone with executive dysfunction can reblog!

[unnecessarywriting]

Rainy Day Confessions - Harry Potter

Harry Potter x reader

A/N: I am happy to be back writing here. Please let me know what you think and send me requests. I have changed the list so check before you request. Thank you!! Also no Cho hate here, it just fit for the storyline.

Rainy Day Confessions

You know, crushing on someone is harsh. The heart beats harder in your chest at every glance; your cheeks heat up at the sound of a laugh. When your eyes meet, you forget the most basic instinct: to breathe. When it is one-sided, it’s more painful. Each glance is just passing; each laugh is because of someone else. Even the meeting of irises and pupils is just coincidence. These thoughts pass though your head and cause the ache that weighs on your soul. His eyes shine like emeralds, and his laugh is the hum of an innocent bee. Of course these observations are some that many have made before me. Most of these others have been more successful on their advances at staking claim to the one their hearts belong too. 

Monday has consisted of classes with the one who you have been falling for. He, of course, thought that talking back to the pink toad herself was wise and wound up in another detention. You sat in the back of the class waiting patiently for her insufferable voice to stop screeching in your ears. You were doodling on your parchment when she made her way to your desk.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

You looked up in annoyance and surprise.

“If you are so insistent on not paying attention in my class, you can spend time reflecting in detention tonight.” Of course you had detention with her, and of course it had to be with him.

The end of class came with the end of the day, which meant that detention was awaiting you. You walked towards the pink hell, and awaited for your courage to knock on the door. Her shrill voice told you to come in, and as you entered, your heart dropped. You were alone. Never had you been alone with this woman before, and that was enough to strike fear into your body. Silently, you sat at the table, and in front of you sat the infamous quill. You had detention with her once before, and you could recall the pain it that quill can cause. You sat in silence until you heard a knock at the door. He walked in and sat across from you with a matching quill.

“Mr. Potter, you shall write ‘I shall not talk back’ and Ms. Y/L/N, you shall write ‘I shall not be distracted’ until the messages sink in.” The both of you nodded and began to work. 

A half an hour passed, and the first drop of blood fell from your hand. Another twenty minutes passed before you were both let free. You walked slightly faster, hoping you could make it to your dorm before any tears fell. You weren’t sad, just in pain. Harry tried to keep up with your pace. You could tell as the sound of his footsteps increased. 

“Y/L/N! Hold on a minute.” You slowed down at the sound of your name. You didn’t respond, you just slowed your steps.

“Are you okay?” He sounded sincere, but you knew he would be this way with anyone who shared that experience with him. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Now, I kinda need to get to my dorm and start working on that potions essay. Goodnight Potter.” How you wanted to use his first name, but you weren’t close enough for that.

As you made your way into your dorm room, you wanted to hit yourself on the head for being so dismissive. You weren’t nervous about talking to Harry, you just didn’t want him to see your vulnerable side. The last thing you wanted was for the boy you were crushing on to pity you and think that you were weak. Alas, there is nothing you could do about it. That night you went to bed with a few tear stains, and a throbbing hand. 

The next morning you woke up feeling a little defeated. The events of the night before still weighing in your mind. You got up and pulled yourself to breakfast with the promise of some delicious jam. You sat alone. You had friends, plenty of them in fact, but you just wanted to enjoy some solitude and be left to your drowsy thoughts. Throughout your time at breakfast, you felt eyes on you. Quite frankly, you wished it was your crush, but there was no way he would feel the same. It turns out you were right. Before you left the great hall to make your way to Charms class, you glanced around the hall and saw the eyes of those that bore into your skull. It was none other than Hermione Granger. Why she was watching you was unbeknownst to you, but you didn’t want to dwell on it.

Charms class was interesting and fun. It allowed you to focus on something other than your own thoughts. Flitwick was always a joy to be around, and he gave you a lot of house points as you often excelled. The only real competition you had was Hermione in this class, but she didn’t seem to mind that you were great in that class.  As the class was ending, your brain started to go back to the events of the nights before. You felt a little guilty about being so dismissive, and your hand was still in pain. You decided that you should apologize to Harry at dinner.

A few hours later you walked into the hall with confidence, but as soon as you saw him with his friends at the Gryffindor table, you panicked and walked in the other direction. You sat at the table thinking about when to talk to him, and what to say. Eventually, your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

“Harry told me about your detention last night. Are you sure you’re alright?” It was Hermione.

“Yeah Granger. I’ll be fine. My hand still hurts, but it’ll heal eventually.” You offered her a small smile.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure. We both know how evil that toad is. Harry was also worried about you.” She gave a cheeky smile as if to tell me she knew all of my secrets. 

“Actually Hermione,” this was your chance, “can you actually tell Harry I’m sorry for being so rude last night? I’ve been feeling pretty guilty about it, and I really don’t want him to think it was about him. I honestly was just overwhelmed.” You looked down, slightly ashamed that you couldn’t just say that to him yourself. 

“You know, you could always tell him yourself.” She gave you a knowing look. “But, I guess I can do you this favor. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and don’t hesitate to come over to us next time.” She offered a playful wink and walked back to where Ron and Harry sat. Of course she noticed your feelings. Clearly, you have been a bit too obvious. 

The next day came too fast. And it went almost as quickly. After dinner, you wandered the halls before curfew. You contemplated going to the astronomy tower, but you thought that was too obvious. Someone was most likely there, and it was most likely Malfoy himself. You decided to enjoy the fall weather and wandered the courtyard. Eventually you sit down by a tree and just close your eyes. The silence was rejuvenating. The chaos of classes and the continued noise in the common room often left little time for relaxation. This was the best way to decompress. Not too long later, a cough brought you to your senses. 

“You know, your dorm may be a better place to sleep. You’re also less likely to get sick.” I knew exactly who it was. I sighed and kept my eyes close. Maybe if I don’t look at him, I can keep my composure.

“At least here, I don’t have to listen to the first and second years experimenting with Weasley products. Plus, the weather is perfect for a nap. I could sleep the rest of the year away, and I might as well if the pink toad is going to be around.” We sat in silence for a moment. Eventually, Harry spoke up.

“How’s your hand? You were bleeding a lot.” I let out an empty laugh in response.

“I’m heavy-handed I guess. How’s yours?” I heard a shifting noise next me, but I didn’t think twice about it.

“As well as to be expected. Listen, you had nothing to apologize for. I get it, she can be a lot. By the way, you call me Harry. There’s no reason for formalities.” At this point I could feel his eyes on me.

“Well, it’s not like we’re really friends,” I countered. 

“You call Hermione by her first name, and I didn’t think you were friends either,” he pushed.

“I talk to her. More than I talk to you. If it’s any consolation I would probably refer to Ron as Weasley, well, maybe not if he was surrounded by the twins too.” I started to get up, but I felt his hand lightly grab my wrist.

“Then call this the start of a friendship. Now, you have no reason to not call me by my name.” I shook my head in response and began to walk away.

“Goodnight Potter,” I murmured to myself, but Harry heard it with a small smile on his face. 

When Thursday came around, you felt great. Of course, your hand was still sore, but emotionally you felt good. You had managed to keep your emotions in check when talking to Harry last night, and you even managed to act a little more like yourself. On your way to the great hall for breakfast, you had a bit of pep in your step. You made your way to the table when you noticed that Harry was sitting over by where you were known to sit. Hermione and Ron were in their usual spots, but they were constantly looking over at Harry with smirks plastered on their faces. 

“Should I even bother asking why you’re here Potter?”

“Well, I think I should sit with my new friend, don’t you?” He was too cocky for his own good.

You shook your head in response. Maybe he won’t end up developing the same type of emotions for you, but the least you can do is make a friend out of him. Your chats that morning were friendly. Your heart continued to beat a little harder in your chest, but you did the best you could to keep your emotions in check. Throughout the day, you would catch Harry around you. Sometimes he was in the same room, or you were just passing by each other more often, but he became more prominent in your daily activities.

You were spending more time with him, and his friends in the weeks following. Hermione made a good study partner, and Ron was actually pretty funny to be around, but you couldn’t get past these feelings in your chest whenever you looked at Harry or heard his voice. You were grateful to have a friendship with him at all, but the more you got to know about him, the harder you started to fall. At some point, you even considered a mutual interest, but that was soon crushed. 

Cho Chang. A better match for Harry. You knew that he had some interest in her the year prior, but you thought that it was over. How wrong you were. It was a Hogsmeade day, and you looked forward to spending the day with some of your other friends. Fun was the best way to describe the first part of your trip. You made the necessary stops at Honeydukes and Zonko’s, and then you made your way to the Three Broomsticks for some Butterbeer. Things were going great. Your conversations were lively and it was nice to not have to push away your emotions. It wasn’t until you looked over your shoulder that your heart stopped. No, not in the good way, where everything around you stops too and everything suddenly gains meaning. No, this was the time that you hoped that it would never start again. The two of them sat, with butterbeers and laughs. Her hand on his arm, his smile bright. You turned back to your friends and painted a smile to your face. Just make it through the day.

When you finally got back to the dorm, you sat on your bed and looked at the wall. You weren’t thinking, just feeling. Should you go to dinner? That was the question that ate away at you for an hour. You opted that it would only make sense to go and ignore the voice in the back of your head that reminded you of all of your insecurities. So, you wandered through the halls until you reached the great hall. You took a deep breath and walked over to your friends from earlier. This earned three pairs of eyes to stay glued to your presence. The past few weeks, you spent your meals with the trio, but today, you couldn’t bring yourself to sit with them. Dinner was uneventful, thankfully, and you made your way back to the dorms where you would stay until Monday.

Your first class was History of Magic, and you chose to focus intently on the lesson. This continued in all of your classes, until you entered Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your head hurt from your thoughts trying to sting at the hippocampus of your brain. The pink toad’s ramblings eventually set you off. You got up without a word and walked out of the class. When she asked where you were going, you replied, “Anywhere else but here,” which she responded with, “Tonight, my office.” You figured detention was going to happen. It was inevitable, but you could care less at this point. You had been trying so hard to turn off your head and your emotions, that it didn’t matter what was going to happen.

That night, Umbridge held you for longer than normal. She must’ve been very angry with your sudden departure. When you left her office, your hand was dripping onto your uniform. You made your way to your common room, as silently as you could. That night, you could only think of and feel the pain from your hand.

The next morning, your hand was still bleeding. There was nothing you could do about it other than wrapping it up. At breakfast you sat alone, until he appeared in front of you.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s been wrong?” He sounded almost accusatory. 

“I would rather eat my breakfast. Alone.” He flinched at your tone, but he didn’t move. Instead, he looked at your bandaged hand, where the blood seeped through the white cloth. He sighed knowing how bad the pain must be. You both ate in silence, until Cho Chang made her way to where you two were. You chose to block out her annoyingly nice voice. It was clear she was flirting, and Harry was clearly falling into her words. You got up and left as quickly as possible and went to charms. 

Another week passed, except the trio had done everything they could to get you to go back to being friends with them. You studied with Hermione occasionally, but you cut your sessions short when she started questioning your behavior. One night, however, you took a break and started wandering the halls. Somehow, he found you. You sat, looking out the window in peace, when he caught your attention.

“You know, it’s unfair that you think you can just play with people’s emotions.” You were caught off guard by his statement. You stayed silent, however, not knowing how to respond.

“I thought we were friends Y/N. We had so much fun together, and I actually enjoyed spending time with you. You’re amazing to talk to, and you’re pretty funny too, which makes this all so confusing. Why? Why won’t you talk to me? To Ron? You barely talk with Hermione anymore. This is just selfish. If you didn’t want to be friends, you should’ve just said so. It would’ve saved us all the time.” He went to walk away after you didn't respond.

“Is that all I am to you? A waste of your time? You’re right. I was being selfish, but so were you.” You looked him in the eyes, and your heart started to tear itself into pieces. He was hurt, confused, and it appeared to you that he was disgusted with the sight of you. You walked away before any tears could fall.

What you didn’t know is that Hermione and Ron were watching this encounter from afar. To Hermione, it was clear what happened. Ron was unaware. That night in the common room, Hermione explained her thoughts to the boys. You liked Harry. That was clear to her before you became friends, and Harry had developed feelings for you along the way. But why did you back off? That was the question that needed some investigation. By the morning, Hermione figured out what happened. She tried to explain it to Harry, but he denied his feelings for the girl, but with some persuasion, he considered it as a possibility. He didn’t have time to really think about what she meant to him because he had quidditch practice.

You, on the other hand, were stuck in a place of guilt. You hurt him. You were selfish. If he wanted answers, then he should get them, but you owed it to yourself to get closure. You made a plan that required some confidence, and what you could only describe as pure stupidity.

The day consisted of heavy rainfall, but Angelina Johnson was not about to cancel quidditch practice. She had a reputation to live up to, and their first game of the season was coming up. This meant, though, that there was no one dumb enough to sit out in the rain and watch them practice. Almost no one. You had a mission, so you attended the Gryffindor practice, and stayed hidden in the quidditch stands. When practice was ending, you saw the players leaving the pitch, but you saw that Harry was falling behind. This is where you swallowed your dignity, and calmed all of your nerves.

“Harry James Potter!” You yelled as loud as you could. The rain continued to pour down as he found the source of his name.

“You want answers? Well here they are. I like you, hell I may even love you. You hear me? And, I know that you couldn’t possibly feel the same way about me, but I needed to say it. You said that I am selfish. Well, you’re right. I am, and now our friendship is ruined forever because I was jealous and stupid.” You took a deep breath. “If you weren’t the Harry Potter, maybe I would have some sort of a chance, but that’s not the world we live in. In this moment, this very moment, I am just a girl yelling at a boy in the rain because I feel so much for you. I’m sorry, but you deserve the truth.” With that, you left the boy speechless on the pitch. Rain continued to fall, but he didn’t move. 

You ran. You ran so fast, that you weren’t even sure if it was real. You were soaked. From head to toe, and you had just made a fool out of yourself. You don’t know how, but you managed to get to your dorm without too many questions. The next morning, you opted out of breakfast at the great hall. Instead, you ate some of the sweets you had bought from Honeydukes. You avoided everyone like the plague. It wasn’t until the Weasley twins made their way to where you were hiding out, that you had any social interaction. 

“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Y/L/N!”

“What do you know? Is this where you have been hiding?”

“What do you two want?” They must have heard your confession. They are on the team, and they can be pretty nosy when they want to be.

“No need to be so rude.”

“Yeah, we were just here to tell you that Harry is looking for you, and well-”

“He will find you, so you may want to do a better job of hiding.” Although they probably had negative intentions, you were grateful for their intel, so you got up, thanked them and moved elsewhere.

You were walking around when you found yourself in the courtyard. You remembered the night that you and Harry became friends. You sat down, tired of all of the running and wandering you had done all day.

“It only took me the whole day to find you.”

“And yet, you didn’t get the hint. Look Harry, I don’t want to talk t-”

“Then just listen. You said enough yesterday.” You lowered your head and thought of how to escape.

“Y/N, I have been cruel and clueless. Hermione told me that you liked me long before we became friends. I should’ve seen it, but I guess I’m pretty oblivious to some things. I thought I liked Cho, but I think a part of me wanted to console her after losing Cedric. I don’t think she even knows what she wants, but I know that I have missed you so much these past few weeks. And yesterday, when you told me how you felt, I couldn’t help but feel something. I asked Hermione about it and she is sure that I like you too, and you know what, it’s probably true. Not probably, it is true. I know I’m rambling, but Y/N Y/L/N I want to be with you!” He stopped and watched your expressions. 

Your eyes looked up and found his eyes, desperate for a response. You slowly walked towards him and placed your hand on his cheek and pulled him into a shy kiss. You pulled away quickly with a slight blush, feeling embarrassed. It wasn’t until he pulled you back into him that you truly understood his words. You leaned your forehead into his and whispered, “What are you waiting for?”

[semper-legens]

93. Unmentionable, by Therese Oneill

Owned?: Yes Page count: 300 My summary: Therese Oneill gives a guide to how to be a Victorian lady, including sex, manners, health, and all the nasty little details you don’t learn from Jane Eyre. My rating: 0/5 My commentary:

If you know anything about me, you’ll know that I’m a bit of a nerd for history. And the Victorians are something of a fascination to me. Their culture and society are so interesting, with the widespread effects of industrialisation, the social change that was happening through the sixty four years of Queen Victoria’s reign. So this book, usually, would be something completely up my alley. Usually. Because this book was a complete mess from start to finish, full of misinformation, myths, stereotypes, and a focus on a certain subset of nineteenth century womanhood at the exclusion of all else.

Really, the problems with this book start at the title. Victorian lady. See, there’s two problems with this. One, the Victorian era lasted from 1837 to 1901, and society and culture changed in massive ways through that time. Sure, you can talk about the era as a whole, but the experiences of a woman in 1837 and her granddaughter in 1901 are going to be hugely different. Two, it became apparent after a few dozen pages that Oneill was focusing on America. Which, famously, got rid of the English monarchy in 1776, except for Queen Victoria’s reign. Oh, sure, she’s most likely using ‘Victorian’ as a shorthand because it’s more recognisable for people - but that’s the problem with this book. Oneill’s history is very much pop-culture history. You can get the same amount of factual information from one of those bullshit ‘everything you need to know about corsets in five minutes’ videos. Hell, you can get far more factual information from a Horrible Histories book. At least Horrible Histories has the excuse that it’s for children.

See, Oneill is giving a general overview of womanhood in ‘Victorian times’, without ever being specific as to when. Take the part about how one might dress. Are we in crinolines? Bustles? What’s the fashionable silhouette, and how might a woman achieve it? Oneill doesn’t care! Tightlacing your corset happened through the whole era, apparently, and we’re wearing our crinolines with multiple petticoats, despite the crinoline having been popularised to get rid of the need to wear multiple petticoats to achieve the full skirt. It’s this lazy, stereotype focused approach that I absolutely detest. Sure, everyone in the past smelled, they rarely ever bathed, that’s something that’s always true. Women couldn’t do anything, ever - ignore the real-life nineteenth century ladies who achieved measures of social and cultural progress.

Sometimes, Oneill even directly contradicts herself. She states that nobody knows how nineteenth century people dealt with menstruation...and then publishes images of newspaper advertisements for sanitary products. She says that a core expectation placed on middle/upper class wives was the ability to cook, except if you had any amount of money in this era, you’d hire a cook. Which Oneill knows, because she talks about it later. She also doesn’t cite sources for her specific claims - there’s a bibliography, but she doesn’t state where individual facts came from unless they are quotations, which really doesn’t help the perception I have that she’s just talking out of her arse or parroting stereotypes for how the nineteenth century was without actually caring to research them. And then there’s the sweeping generalisations, like her assertion that your hypothetical nineteenth century husband will of course grow sick of you by the time you’re twenty, because that’s far too old. (Ignore the fact that, as far as my quick searches can tell, the average age of marriage for a woman in this era is 24/26. Men are around 28, for reference.) It’s less the claim that I take issue with here and more the lack of room for any sort of nuance. Funnily enough, attitudes to women and womanhood changed a lot in sixty four years. Does Oneill recognise that? Does she hell.

But let’s go back to the class thing. Because the device Oneill uses is that we are a modern woman time-travelling back to ‘Victorian times’, and as a ‘favour’ to us, she places us as a middle or upper class woman. Fair enough, the subtitle is ‘The Victorian lady’s guide to sex, marriage, and manners’, and though you could take ‘lady’ in that to mean ‘woman’, you could also take it to mean ‘Lady’, as in wealthy. But. But but but. The thing with this focus is that it feels really disingenuous for Oneill to complain about how much our hypothetical middle/upper class woman’s life would have sucked when they were the best-off women in this society.

Like yes, keep going on about how hellish throwing a dinner party is, I’m sure the twelve year old maid scrubbing out your chamberpots will be so sympathetic. Or the haggard mother working twelve hour factory shifts. Or any enslaved woman. Yeah, if we’re a rich white American woman, we’ve got to address how we’re definitely benefiting from the exploitation of working-class and enslaved women. (And we’re definitely white, Oneill addresses the existence of non-white women in this period like twice, to point out that medical professionals at the time thought they didn’t feel pain or experience menstruation as white women do. Wanna explore how fucked up that is, Oneill? No? Just gonna keep going on about how impossible it was for a rich lady to manage a household or throw a dinner party. Sure.) But Oneill doesn’t engage with that. She just keeps going on about how badly our rich white lady had it, not talking about how rich white ladies in the nineteenth century were often the perpetuators of violence and systemic oppression, not talking about they might have been slave-owners or mistreated their domestic servants, not talking about anything but how put-upon the fucking rich women were. Talk about not having rights, Oneill? Your hypothetical rich white woman has a hell of a lot more rights than any other woman in this society, and a great deal of the men too!

Also, the style in which this book is written is so irritating. Oneill’s voice is incredibly patronising, talking down to the reader at every turn, addressing us as ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ constantly. I was thoroughly sick of it by chapter two. Ah yes, tell me about how patronising nineteenth century men were in the most condescending language possible! That makes sense. And I’m not saying that a non-fiction work written in a more informal style can’t work - I really liked A Fatal Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum - but this is not how that should be done.

Ugh. So glad that’s over. I’m gonna be ranting about this for weeks to come. Anyway, next time, something I actually enjoyed - back to Ancient Rome!

[phonecallwithsatan]

Run Away With Me

a.n: George Weasley x y/n, a bit angsty with a cute ending. This is the first time I’ve written for George, so please do enjoy, my angels! I wrote it based off the song Run Away With Me by Sufjan Stevens<3 Feel free to request anything, too:) I'm in a very flourishing mood hehe. 

George has been distant from you in your final year at Hogwarts, and you’re ready to end it until he asks you a simple yet complex question. No gender is implied and no specific house is implied. 

⭑

You felt him growing distant from you.

It used to be love notes set on your pillow that were waiting for you at night before you went to bed, with pieces of candy scattered on top just waiting to be indulged in.

It used to be sneaky meet-up dates in the forbidden forest, hoping that no one catches you both laughing hand in hand through nature. 

It used to be after-game quidditch kisses. Ones that hit your face hard with lust and passion for that one person- your person.

Now it’s cold pillows that felt worn out because of an absence of parchment and sweets.

Now it’s “next week” dates that end up being pushed to the following week. 

Now there are no games because of Professor Umbridge, who banned your lover from his team. Your shared moments were rushed, and with a motive that felt like a hurdle, the passion moving differently between the two.

Ever since Professor Umbridge arrived at Hogwarts, she has made it living hell for any students who disobeyed her. The Weasley twins made her unoffical “kill list,” most likely the two shared her number one spot. 

George had been drained. His classes were slipping more than usual ever since she had come. She had kicked Fred and George off their quidditch team, along with banning their products with her Educational Decree #30, declaring that “All Weasley Products Would Be Banned Immediately.” 

You were always there for him through these hard times. Fred was able to console on his own, but George on the other hand needed support to get through these hard times and you stuck through it. You made sure that he knew there was someone to help him when he fell.

You had distinctly remembered the time when the Toad, Professor Umbridge, had kept him in detention until twelve in the morning.

You had probably been sitting in the common room for over four hours just waiting for your angel to walk through the portrait hole safe and unharmed, but you knew that your imagination was just a figment of lies.

George finally walked in the common room with his hand in his pocket, passing you completely with his head down.

“George.” You got up from your occupied seat. George turned his head with his eyes brimmed with tears. Your heart shattered at the sight. “Come here, sweet boy.” You motioned with your hands and a smile.

But he didn’t. “George?” He just stared at you with an unrecognized pain in his look, making you shiver a bit from how cold and unexpecting it was. You walked to him with your hand still reached out going towards the one in his pocket, but he wouldn’t move it.

“George, just talk to me, angel. Let me help you.” You put an arm to his chest and ran it up to his shoulder, to finish at his chin. You tried pushing it up but he was committed. 

You removed your hand immediately and you were visibly just as hurt. Your boyfriend of four years was being stubborn and distant. And now, he wouldn’t even let you help with what you both had gone through multiple times before.

“Don’t you remember last time, when it was my turn to write, ‘I will not act with misfits?’ Do you remember, sweet boy? Do you remember how deep it was in my skin, how you helped me take the pain away from that stupid, stupid quill? Let me do the same for you, please.” You were being patient with him, but you were beginning to be pissed off.

“Godric, George, just look at me.” The sudden removal of his hand from his pocket revealed what he was hiding. You took his hand and looked up at him before flipping it over to read what cruel thing she had made him do.

Deep marks of the line, “I will become nothing” was etched into his skin, leaving you at a loss for words.

You didn’t know what to say, you just stared at your boy standing in front of you with full vulnerability. He was bound to snap at some moment.

“This means nothing, you know that right?” You raised the hand you held to meet with his eye level, but he didn't budge as you saw a tear fall off the side of his face. This is when you absolutely broke inside, all focus and concentration on the boy in front of you.

“George, tell me you get it.” He finally met your eyesight for the first time but he said nothing. 

“I am nothing, and I am left with nothing.” He muttered it ever so quietly, and it took you a minute to register.

He removed his hand from yours and began walking away from you, not even bothering to turning around.

“What about your family? School?” He continued up the stairs. “What about me, George?” You knew this would get a reaction from him, but you were wrong. He didn’t even flinch at your words. He was gone.

You were so confused. You two had gone through detentions with Umbridge so many times before and separately too. It made you stronger. So why was your angel boy refusing you?

The days that followed were some of the toughest days in the semester, and it made the distance between you and George even bigger. It had now been two months since you had last spoken. You had only heard from Fred only once or twice. It was small talk, “how have you been,” “it’s so good to see you,” those types of things.

It was heartbreaking to see George in the corridors with his head down and his arms always in his pockets. He was ignoring you like never before and you were fed up with your boyfriend keeping you out. He had never been like this, and his actions affected Hogwarts in a way that was unknown to everyone.

The two twins were quieter. Jokes and pranks were not told the same if it wasn’t coming straight from them. Fred was much more stable than his twin, but something that night happened, and you didn’t know why it was their breaking point. They had only fret a little bit the first time with Umbridge, what had happened? Their mental health just- dropped, out of nowhere, and you didn’t know what to do.

He had always been there for you no matter how hard you pushed him away from anger and pain, but you knew that he was there. If it was from a difficult test to a difficult day with Umbridge, he was ready to handle all of you. You just didn’t realize why he couldn’t react the same way when it came to him.

And it’s not like you hadn't tried to reach out to him. You waited on him even after that night in the common room and you made it clear that your feelings for him did not change even after his words. You were there for him just as he was for you. but that changed once you realized he was going to keep passing you and ignoring you.

As of a few weeks ago though, things started to get better. The twins began to mess with Umbridge a lot more, and they were acting as if they would never see her ever again. You had seen them at Hogsmeade with their friend, Lee, just looking around at the vacant buildings and picking locks to get in to view them. It was nice to see your angel smile again, but you knew it had nothing to do with you.

You had decided to end it- officially. Title and everything to be gone. You were no longer going to be George Weasley’s significant other. You two were done once you said the words and there was no going back. You decided that you were going to tell him tonight in the Gryfinndor common room. It was a Saturday, so you would tell him, and then you would go to Hogsmeade with all your friends. Infact, they were the ones urging you to get it over with. 

You had been planning it for a week and it hurt to think about it. You always thought George was your end game, your dream boy, your angel. And he was, but things changed and it felt like you were no longer his. He slipped even though you held on to him. You were sick of being ignored. Mental health is not a joke to you, but at this point, it felt like he was purposefully ignoring you. He didn’t even lift his head when you spoke or interacted with him.

Before your crafted plan and Hogsmeade hang-out with your friends, you had to write a five-page essay on the ‘Importance of Frog Parts in 18th Century Magic’ at the library.

You had sat a few tables down from you and George’s usual spot. It was a beautiful one too, as it was right under a light fixture that added a golden hue on your work. It was in a perfect spot too. It was where there wasn’t very heavy foot traffic and with no scratches on the table that hitched your quill when you wrote. You missed the table, but you missed your boyfriend more.

Just as you were finishing up the last line of your strange topic essay, you felt a presence around you.

You looked up to see George Weasley looking at you nervously. “Can I sit?”

You were in shock. It was almost as if he read your mind about later on. This was just going to be way easier.

“Okay, but just know i’m leaving.” He quickly sat down next to you and tried to grab your hand but you snatched it away. 

He was visibly hurt by that action, but you did not care after all he had put you through these past two months.

“Run away with me.” He didn’t tear apart from your gaze as he was longing for it for two months.

“George, are you kidding m-” You never got to finish your sentence as he rudely interrupted you.

“My sweet remedy, run away with me.” The last word was sharp. He continued, and you were oblitterated by this. So, you did something you had never done before. You got up briskly, his eyes following you, and you slapped him across the face.

“You have no right, George Weasley. You couldn’t look me in the eyes for two months, and now you want me to ‘run away with you’? What kind of sick joke is that you-”

He got up and met your height.

“Please, just hear me out. I’ll beg if I have to.” His eyebrows were brought together and his eyes scanned your face in hopes of getting some type of emotion from you. He didn’t even react to the slap.

Ignoring him, you pushed him aside after you grabbed your quill and essay to exit the library. You heard footsteps after you but you ignored them.

“What can I do, please [y/n], love-”

You turned around at the pet name he used for you. “That was revoked when you said that you had nothing in life when you knew you did. You have a loving family, a beautiful future, and a life to live. How dare you be so selfish in front of someone who would do anything for your happiness. You have no clue what it is like to have nothing in life, and you have no clue what it is to be nothing. You are far from nothing, George. Look at how quiet Hogwarts has been without you. Look at how people look up to you. What about them?” You were practically yelling at this point. The hallway was empty and you were facing your boyfriend now. 

“What about them, George? Umbridge had no clue what she was trying to transfer when she made you write that with the stupid quill, how could you let that go to your head? George, I was there for you when you needed me and I know that you knew, so how dare you say that you have nothing.” You were too angry and busy to cry, you did not even suffer through a voice crack during your rant.

“I didn’t know how to face you after that, but if you listen to me I promise I will explain.” He was inching closer to you, but you were backing away.

“And why would I do that, Weasley?” He flinched at the use of his last name. He was losing you.

“Fred and I are leaving. We found a shop for our stuff. You know, all the inventions. In Hogsmeade, too. It’s all done, and I want you to come with.” Your face remained the same. 

You couldn’t believe that he had done that all in a span of two months. In secret too. He was hopeful still, and you let your walls down.

“They’ll continue to terrorize us with new confusion. They’ll continue to paralyze us with those illusions. They won’t stop. Love, come run away with me.” He was slowly walking towards you and he grabbed your hands and, foolishy, because of love, you let him. 

“Please, [y/n], follow me to life and love within. A new horizon, elsewhere. I will show you rapture, love. Just let me.”

He held your hands in his and raised them with every ending of his sentence. He was teary eyed and because of that, and that only, you began to think it over.

Normally you stuck to your word, but your sweet boy was at your mercy and you couldn’t stand to see him like this anymore.

“Why did you leave, George. Why would you do that?” You muttered it after a silence between you two. Your head was down and unfortunately, you let a tear slip through your guard.

He let go of one hand and bent down a bit frantically, pushing a few strands of shorter hair behind your ear and trying to tilt your head. His expression was so emotionally distraught, you couldn't take it anymore as you felt that single tear leave you. You moved your head away from his hand as he continued to meet your eyes. 

“Just answer me.” You were strict on a response.

He slowly dropped his hand and stayed quiet.

At this point you lost it. The tears just came.

“Damn it, Weasley. Why would you do that?! What did I do to deserve that? I was there for you and you chose to ignore me!” Your fists were balled and they were hitting his chest, pushing him away with every word you spoke, making his vulnerability collapse as he began to let his tears leave him too, marking his sweet face you had kissed a million times before into a streaky mess.

You stopped pushing him away on your final sentence and you waited a response from him.

Instead, you were both sobbing in front of one another, lips quivering and eyebrows crinkled from emotion. You tilted your head and you let it drop before picking it up to see George sniffle and run his hands through his short hair.

He walked to you and took your waist, putting his head in the crook of your shoulder and neck and just began to sob into your skin. Your arms went to his neck and you held onto him- tightly. 

He could finally let go all his emotional distraught and you just cried even more. 

He was sobbing like never before and your heart broke as you held the boy that once held you the same way, still angry at the absence of him and angry that it took him this long to come to you as he was now.

“I just couldn’t t-take it anymore, [y/n]. I thought I could but I can’t. I’m sorry, I am so, so, so, sorry my love.” He stayed in your arms and you held him tighter as soon as you heard that stutter escape his lips. He fell apart in front of you and he had wished he had done it sooner. It felt good to let go.

He pulled away from you and he grabbed your face which was matching up to his- puffy and wet.

“[y/n], please, run away with me. Forgive me and run away with me. I can’t do it without you, love. I couldn’t focus on a-anything when you weren’t beside me. I can promise you that when Fred and I agreed to leave, you were the first thing that came to mind.” His stutter continued to this statement and you didn’t know if it was truly what he meant or if it was rather what you wanted to hear. 

“You are the first and you’ll be the last. I’m sorry for everything, [y/n]. But please, take this chance and follow me somewhere better.” 

You were hesitant. It was two months of nothing. Silence. No communication. But your poor boy was so ruined and dragged that you couldn’t help but take pity on him.

“It’s on Diagon Alley, right on a corner. You’ll love it, I promise. There’s nothing for us here to do. The shop has been a thought forever and we’re finally making it a reality, [y/n].”

It was dead silent. There was no one in the hall. The light was dimmed and the windows beside you to your left revealed the Black Lake.

“Not coming to you was a mistake, I want you to know that I regret it. I shut myself out to everyone and I want to ask to come back if you’ll let me.”

All this time you were readying yourself to break up with him, but the sound of his voice cracking and the way his hands cupped your face was so longing and needy, that you couldn’t think about leaving him. He was simultaneously still leaning down to match your eyesight and you saw him flicker across your face. 

“Please.” He pleaded one more time and ran his thumb across your cheek to wipe a tear away.

“When.” You stated simply. He was a ride or die, and you were the same to him. You were his, and he was yours, there was no denying it. This was the exact moment where you realized that it was truly unfair to punish him.  

Two months of silence took a toll on your relationship but it’s different when they’re your ride or die. You waited for him, and you could not blame him anymore for his delay on returning. He needed time, and he knew you were there for him. You knew it all along, but you were blinded by the absence.

“What?” His eyes lit up.

“When, George. When are you leaving?” 

His eyebrows separated from their temporary creasing and he looked at you with something that could only be described as desire.

Longing for you, he went in for a kiss that felt like the missing piece to all your problems. 

You kissed him back with the same need you both experienced, grabbing the back of his head to deepen it, not stopping for a single breath as your bodies collided. Your book bag fell but you were too busy burning away with your one and only.

You pulled away and you put a hand to the side of his face. You had to lean away a bit because his arms had trapped you to him with hands on your mid back, they were bent a bit at your side but firm as if he could lose you any moment. 

He melted to your touch and he explained his plan.

“Well, we want to leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” You were surprised.

“Yes, love. Tomorrow. We decided it a few days ago and I want to take you with me, but I understand if you can’t.” His smile faded a bit at those last few days and he even looked down a bit to avoid your gaze.

You took the hand that was on his face and you used it to lift him up to meet your eyes.

“The year ends in a week, will you still want me, sweet boy?” You grazed his face again and tilted your own as you awaited an answer. You knew he loved to be called ‘sweet boy’.

“I’ll still want you even if you tell me to wait forty years. I’ll want you forever, if you’ll have me, of course.”

His confidence was back and you could hear it too. But still with that fact, tears coated his face. You didn’t know if it was from happiness or from the stored away sadness that was finally realeased to run.

“What’d you say, [y/n]. Come run away with me.” 

You went in to kiss him, letting a cry escape your lips before you connected. You tasted salty tears and as was he, but you couldn’t be happier in this moment. 

⭑

The next day was a day you would never forget. The great hall was finally brought back to life after their big entrance, and after it you were in the courtyard watching your boyfriend and his direct copy of a twin joke around on their brooms. 

You finally saw that sweet smile strike his face again and you knew that everything that was to come would be good and calm, nothing like what you two had endured in your last weeks at Hogwarts.

They kicked up their brooms after their final goodbyes with everyone and they even threw a few more fireworks in the air. Faces including yours lit up and you knew that he was the one.

He looked down one last time, and he smiled at you from above. It was something you missed receiving. 

[willowbird]

prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....

I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!

Warnings for depression, eating disorder. 

Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3

-----

Wednesday | 6:04am

The alarm was screaming. 

Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move. 

Aaron hated days like this.

Wednesday | 8:43am

Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.

“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.

He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.

"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"

"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.

"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"

"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.

Aaron looked away.

"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.

Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.

Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.

A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.

"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."

Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.

A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.

With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.

Wednesday | 1:15pm

Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?

Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?

Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘

Wednesday | 1:23pm

Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.

It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.

Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag. 

“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything. 

He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him. 

Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny. 

Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”

Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”

The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.

“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.

Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return. 

“I love you,” he told her. 

“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”

He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.

Wednesday | 3:37pm

The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow. 

This was the worst part about days like this.

Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle. 

So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.

Wednesday | 7:51pm

Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers. 

Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.

The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.

Aaron snorted and looked away. 

The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about. 

For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice. 

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (ch 19)

Chapter 19

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,012

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

When Jimin finally awoke, he was met with a set of big blue eyes staring back at him. He gasped and tried to get away, but the action made his head ache something awful. He held his head in his hands and glanced up. There was a little boy sitting beside his bed staring at him…no. Not his bed. This wasn’t his bed. This was a dingy cot in the corner of a tiny cement room. The little boy was staring at him with wide eyes. He had ahead full of dark, unkempt hair. He was pale and shivering.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked.

“Jimin,” he said. He wanted to panic, but that probably wasn’t the best thing to do right now, for the sake of the child and for the sake of his still throbbing head. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb,” the boy said.

“Do you know where we are, Caleb?” Jimin asked. Caleb shook his head. It was then that he noticed the needle in his arm. The needle was connected to a tube, which ran up to a blood bag on an IV pole. His heart sank. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“That’s a bad word,” said Caleb.

“Sometimes, a situation calls for bad words,” said Jimin. Caleb smiled.

“Yeah, this situation is pretty fucking bad,” he said. Jimin’s eyes widened.

“Just don’t say that around your parents,” said Jimin. The smile fell from Caleb’s face.

“I don’t think I’m gonna see my parents again,” said Caleb.

“Why would you say that?” Jimin asked, carefully peeling the tape off holding the needle down.

“I’m not stupid,” Caleb said, picking at his sweater. “My mom told me that there’s people out there who kidnap kids and sell them. And that’s why I have to be careful with strangers. I saw a ton of people come in here and talk about prices, and they tasted my blood. It’s so creepy! I already had two roommates before you got here. Both of them got sold right away. I bet you’ll be next. The Dracula guys like pretty people who are adults more than they like kids I guess.”

“They don’t like kids?” Jimin asked.

“No,” said Caleb. “Well, they said that my blood is really good ‘cause it’s clean. But they said that kids are too much to deal with. I guess it’s a good thing.”

“Probably is,” said Jimin. He slowly pulled the needle from his arm and then reached for Caleb’s arm. Caleb let him do the same with his needle.

“They’ll get mad,” said Caleb.

“We’ll put them back in in a few hours,” said Jimin. “How often do they come in?”

“Not very often. Like, twice a day to give us food and put the needle in or take it out,” said Caleb.

“We just won’t let them take too much from us,” said Jimin. “Besides, my friends know where I am. They should be coming to rescue us soon.”

“That’s presumptuous,” said Caleb.

“That’s a big word,” said Jimin.

Caleb shrugged and said, “I learned it from a book. I like to read. Do you like reading?”

“I used to,” said Jimin. “Now I’m too busy to read. I go to college, so I have a lot of homework and dance practice.”

“You dance?” Caleb asked. “My big sister is in dance class too.”

“Oh yeah? How old is your sister?” Jimin asked.

“She’s twelve,” said Caleb. “I’m eight. I miss her, even though she’s a jerk sometimes.”

“I’m sure she misses you too,” said Jimin. “You’ll see her again. Hopefully soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “You actually showed up!” Makai shouted, standing up to greet them with open arms.

               Yoongi led the way into the room, Catalina and Jungkook following behind.

               “Yoongi is the best one for this role,” said Namjoon.

               “Why? You’re the leader,” said Catalina. “I feel like they’d expect you to be the one going in.”

               Yoongi chuckled and said, “Namjoon is too nervous. He can’t act his way out of a paper bag.”

               “I…well yeah,” Namjoon said, not trying to defend himself. “I can’t act. Or lie.”

               “So, to review,” said Jungkook. “We’re acting as Yoongi’s familiars. We’ll go in, buy Jimin, and then leave?”

               “Right,” said Namjoon. “Nothing else happens that day. We’ll execute the second part of our plan another time.”

               “I suppose I was curious,” said Yoongi, shaking Makai’s hand. Makai had that easy going smile on his face. It was disarming, Catalina needed to stay focused on hating the man.

               It was nerve wracking, being able to just walk into the facility like this. Catalina had never felt this kind of adrenaline before. She tried her best to stay calm and regulate her breathing though. Namjoon warned them that vampires can basically smell fear. They can hear when a human’s heart beats faster and smell when their blood rushes quicker.

               They were standing by the desk in the middle of the lounge-like space. This was the area Catalina and Jungkook saw when they snuck in.

               “Are you looking to buy today?” Makai asked. “Or were you just in the neighborhood?”

               “I’m not sure yet,” said Yoongi. “It depends on if you have anything I like.”

               “I’ve got quite the variety,” said Makai. “And all our products are very high quality. All very healthy and clean.”

               “That’s good to know,” said Yoongi. “Most of these kinds of organizations get their products off the streets, they’re usually riddled with drugs and diseases.”

               Catalina chose not to think about why Yoongi knew that.

               Makai chuckled and said, “I have to admit, we started our company like that. We’ve improved so much over the years though. Anyway, I can give you a tour. If you’d like, there’s a waiting room in the back where your familiars can stay.”

               “No thank you,” said Yoongi. “I’d rather they stay with me. I don’t trust you just yet.”

               “What’s not to trust about this face?” Makai asked, pouting a bit. He burst into laughter. “I’m totally joking. You have no reason to trust me, you barely know me! I hope we can be friends someday though. I like you, Yoongi.”

               With that, Makai led the way deeper into the facility. The first door he opened made Catalina’s heart drop. The woman inside was limp and pale, sitting up against the wall on a cot. Her hair was thin and her lips were blue.

               “We’ve had her for a while, so I would probably let you have her for a hundred if you’re interested,” said Makai. He closed the door and continued down the hall. He pointed at a room through a pair of archways and said, “That’s the recreation room. There’s snacks, if you guys want anything.”

               “Chocolate?” Yoongi asked.

               “Haha! Sure, let’s see,” said Makai. He went in and rummaged through the cupboards. Catalina hung back with Jungkook and took his hand. He squeezed her hand back, leaning in to whisper, “Are you okay?”

               Catalina nodded, even though she was starting to feel queasy. Yoongi came back to them with a mouthful of Dove chocolate, more in his hand.

               “Jungkook will have his phone in his shirt pocket, with the camera facing out. It’ll be recording the entire time,” said Namjoon. “This way, we can map out a basic floor plan.”

               Catalina glanced at the phone in Jungkook’s shirt pocket as they were led deeper into the facility. Makai continued showing them “products”, as he called them. There were so many. Catalina didn’t know how she’d be able to leave them all here today. She hated thinking about Jimin in this situation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Jimin tried his best to keep track of the days, but without any outside light source and an irregular sleeping schedule, time quickly began to blur together. He had no idea how much time had passed. He what he could though.

               He didn’t let the vampires take too much blood from him and Caleb, just enough so they wouldn’t notice a loss. He made sure he and Caleb ate everything they were given, to keep up their strength. Every few days, or so Jimin figured, they would have a break from being hooked up to the IV. During those days, they made sure to eat and move around as much as they could.

               But after a while, everything began catching up to them. They were slowly losing energy. Jimin hoped his friends would find him soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Seeing these people, tired and limp, and hearing Makai list off prices like they were at a car dealership made Catalina feel sick. She knew this kind of thing went on, but to see it with her own eyes was something she would never forget. She had to keep reminding herself that they would come back for these people.

               “This one is a little feisty, but if you keep her drained, she should be fine,” said Makai, closing the door on another cell. “Did you see any you liked? Did you at least like the tour?”

               Catalina’s stomach dropped. That couldn’t have been the last one. Where was Jimin? Did someone already buy him? It hasn’t even been a week!

               Jungkook took her hand and squeezed hard.

               “Do you have anything else?” Yoongi asked. His bored façade was still going strong, or maybe it wasn’t a façade. Catalina couldn’t be sure. Did he even actually care about these humans? Either way, he was doing a good job on this mission.

               “I mean, we have other humans, but they’re not ready for purchase yet,” said Makai.

               “I want to see them,” said Yoongi.

               “Sure, were you looking for something in particular?” asked Makai.

               “Eh…not exactly. I suppose I’ll know when I see it,” said Yoongi.

               Makai pointed to him and said, “I totally understand. Ya know, it’s like buying clothes. Fashion trends change so fast and I never know what I want to buy for summer, or for winter or whatever. But when I see it, I know! Can you believe the early 2000’s are coming back? It just ended! Give it a break for a bit!”

               Makai laughed heartily as he rambled on, leading them to a different hallway. He opened a few doors and introduced a few people inside. These people looked a little less tired than the others. These ones still had a bit of color in their cheeks.

               The third door he opened was the one. Jimin stared back at them with wide eyes. The fear in his eyes melted away when he saw them. But there was another set of frightened eyes staring at them from over Jimin’s shoulder.

               A child sat behind him, clutching Jimin’s t-shirt.

               Yoongi faltered. He didn’t say anything for a moment.

               “Is this the one? Are you having your moment?” Makai asked.

               “How much for both?” Yoongi asked.

               “Oh…well, the kid isn’t for sale,” Makai said.

               “Ten thousand for the kid,” said Yoongi. “One thousand for the other guy.”

               Catalina watched with amusement as Jimin pouted, glaring at Yoongi.

               “Okay, so these guys aren’t really for sale right now,” said Makai. “So you’re gonna have to-“

               “Fifty thousand for both,” said Yoongi. Makai closed his mouth.

               “Ya know what, I like you Yoongi. So I’ll give them to you for fifty and a half,” said Makai.

               “Deal,” said Yoongi. They shook hands, Makai smiling wide.

               “I’m just warning you, this one’s squirrely,” Makai said, pointing to Jimin. “And the kid is too smart for his own good. So do with that what you will.”

               “I have these guys,” Yoongi said, gesturing to Jungkook and Catalina. “I’ll be fine.”

               “Right on, man!” Makai said, slapping Yoongi on the shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

               Makai’s office was beautiful; the first thing Catalina noticed was the zen garden in the corner, bamboo shoots rising from the center. The whole office was dim, with stylish, plush furniture filling the space. The sound of running water brought Catalina’s attention to the black stone mini water fountain on the desk at the center of the room.

               Makai went behind the desk and pulled out two forms.

               “Are you paying cash or bitcoin?” Makai asked.

               “What the hell is bitcoin?” Yoongi asked. Makai burst into laughter.

               “Cash it is, then,” he said once he finished laughing. “Just go ahead and sign these for me real quick. This one is a nondisclosure agreement. Don’t go posting about this on social media and definitely don’t tell the cops!”

               Makai laughed again, but Catalina didn’t find any of this funny. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

               “And this one is just an agreement stating that once the transaction is complete, the product is nonrefundable and fully your responsibility,” Makai said. Yoongi signed both forms, then pulled several stacks of cash out of his jacket pocket. Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes bulged. He was just carrying all that in his pocket?, Catalina thought with a start.

               Makai laughed and pointed at them. “Looks like your familiars are thinking the same thing I am. You’re gonna get robbed doing stuff like that, man! You’re stronger than the average guy, but vamps like cash too, ya know!”

               “I don’t go shopping very often,” Yoongi said, counting out the stacks of bills.

               “Clearly,” said Makai, double checking the cash, then storing it in one of the desk drawers. The two of them shook hands. “Do you want them delivered or do you want them right now?”

               “I’m parked outside,” said Yoongi. “I can take them now.”

               “Sounds good to me,” said Makai. “Just go ahead and wait outside, I’ll have someone bring them up.”

               “Don’t damage them,” said Yoongi. “I like my products pristine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

               Jimin and the child clinging to him stayed silent as they got into the car, all the way until Jungkook parked the car in the lot of a Popeye’s just outside of town. Then they all piled out of the car and Catalina and Jungkook immediately tackled Jimin in a tight hug. Yoongi climbed out of the car slowly, then helped the child out of the back seat.

               “What’s your name kid?” Yoongi asked as Catalina and Jungkook fussed over Jimin.

               “Caleb,” he said in a quiet voice.

               “You’re safe now,” said Yoongi. “We’ll get you back to your parents.”

               Caleb’s eyes widened.

               The whole group of them went into the Popeye’s and ordered as much food as everyone wanted. Caleb squeezed into the booth with Jimin, the rest sitting on the other side.

               “These are my friends I was telling you about,” said Jimin.

               “Ooohhh,” Caleb said, eyeing all three of them as he munched on his fries.

               “Are you guys hurt at all? What was it like in there?” Jungkook asked.

               “I mean, it wasn’t even that bad,” said Jimin.

               “Yeah! It wasn’t even that bad!” said Caleb.

               “Okay, I mean, it sucked really bad, and it would have been worse if we got bought by someone else before you got there, but it worked out fine,” said Jimin.

               “Yeah, the situation was pretty fucking bad!” Caleb said, giggling and dunking his chicken strips into too much sauce.

               Catalina and Jungkook’s eyes widened. Jimin and Yoongi just laughed.

               “Don’t say that in front of your parents,” said Jimin, ruffling the kid’s hair.

               “I just can’t wait to see the look on Namjoon’s face when we bring a child home with us,” said Catalina. Yoongi groaned and put his head in his hands.

               “Yeah, I can’t wait either,” he said, sounding like he could, in fact, wait.

[lokiondisneyplus]

Prior to the pandemic, Frank Patterson would spend most days at the sprawling production facility, formerly known as Pinewood Atlanta Studios, that he runs outside of Atlanta. Then COVID-19 hit, and not even he was able to make his health and safety team's cut of essential on-site personnel.

"They were like, 'Frank, why are you here? You're setting a bad example,' " says the president and CEO of what is now Trilith Studios, the in-demand filming location known for hosting a suite of Marvel projects, including WandaVision and Avengers: Endgame.

Since Patterson took the reins in 2016, he's transformed the place from a set of soundstages to a full-fledged film community. After divesting from the Pinewood Group, Patterson led investments in new technologies and content companies, as well as expanded Trilith's footprint. The result is a 935-acre master development that includes the studio as well as a European-inspired town including homes, restaurants and schools that serve as a live-work community for the many creatives on the lot.

In a wide-ranging conversation, Patterson, 59, opened up about the most challenging aspect of COVID-era production, the studio's biggest concerns and whether he'll mandate vaccines.

You've had multiple projects in production during COVID-19. How has it been going?

We've been very fortunate. We had the first studio feature in the industry back to work in June. I can't say what it is, but they'll be finished soon. It was an intense amount of research and work to put together protocols, recognizing that the disaster version looks like an outbreak. None of that's happened. We've had enormously low numbers of positive tests. And we have a full lot: 3,200 people drove on today.

How much more expensive is it to make a film or show right now?

It's costing about 20 percent more money and 20 percent more time. Things are slower and clunkier and it's taking more space. But the good news is cast and crew are taking safety very seriously. I'm sure you heard the story of Tom Cruise getting upset at the crew for not following protocols [on Mission: Impossible 7]. I don't think that's common. What we have found is with the exception of the day player — they tend to test positive more than the average crewmember — people are taking care of themselves.

A year in, how do you feel you did with the COVID-19 protocols?

They're pretty routine now. We're not just making stuff up like we were in the very beginning.

Which of those do you expect to remain post-pandemic?

The washing hands and standing apart, that's how we keep from spreading these diseases and how we need to work. There's a heightened awareness for cleanliness. People used to drag themselves to work miserably sick because if you missed work, you were letting your team down. Well, that's changed. If you show up and you're sick, they're like, "Get out of here." That'll go forward.

Fellow Georgian Tyler Perry said when he was shooting his shows last summer, there was an elderly actress who didn’t feel comfortable coming on set given the risk, so they had to write her out of the scripts. Have you heard of anything like that happening on any of your productions?

Not leaving a show, but changing of schedules to accommodate people's tolerance for coming back to work. There's an, "OK, let's not shoot this right now because this actor is not quite ready to come back to work." They're pivoting and shooting other stuff first and coming back. That's happening across all the productions.

What are the biggest concerns that you hear from the studios now?

Everyone's overwhelmed with the need to get stuff made, but we aren't returning to the speed that we had and we're spending more dollars per frame captured in just the pure production. And it's not like people don't care because you always care when you're spending more money than you planned, but it’s a way a distant second to: Are we getting this stuff shot?

Are all the studios behind?

Nobody is meeting their goals. Just look at the Disney+ line-up, all the stuff that they want to put in place. Look at what Paramount is doing now with Paramount Plus. If you just look at these pipelines, this is the anxiety that everyone feels right now. And then, by the way, WandaVision's a hit, so you got to feed that beast, right? That’s the tension that you feel every day.

How much of that is not having enough physical space to film? Several production facilities, including yours, are fully booked.

It's not just about space. Yes, of course, we could use some more facilities, and we're putting in five more stages that will be ready by June. But that's only one small part. Even before COVID hit, there weren't enough people — I'm talking about crew, not to mention the storytellers — to meet the demand that Wall Street was pouring into the pipeline. There's a talent drain. With COVID, it's [only gotten worse].

Georgia opened sooner than other states. Did you field a lot of calls?

It was overwhelming. Guys were like, "Hey, we heard you guys figured it out." First of all, we didn't figure it out. We have a version and it's working. But there was a lot of attention on us. And we had the good fortune of not having to worry about what role our government leaders would play because they basically said, "We're going to let the industry figure it out." That's the good news. The bad news: It was on us to figure it out and take responsibility.

Are you getting involved in the vaccine rollout as you did testing?

No, we decided we would just keep our focus on the testing protocols. We have to make certain that we just take it all the way to the end — and we'll let [union, guild and association] leadership decide when that is and when those protocols can change. And then again, as an industry, we're going to have to decide what we want to carry forward and what we don't. That's the next phase, and the rate at which we're vaccinating may advance those conversations faster than I thought. I used to think [the protocols] were going to go into 2022. I don't know if that's the case anymore.

Have you had conversations about mandating the vaccine on sets?

We haven't. We know that when it comes to mandatory protocols, we'll have to work in collaboration with industry leadership. No one goes on our lot without a mask, for example. And that was a political thing. Fortunately, Governor Kemp said, "How can I help?" And we were like, "What would be helpful is if you wear a mask in public," and he said, "OK." So when a crewmember said, "It's my right [not to wear one]" or whatever, of course we can say, "This is private property, sorry," but what our security team said instead was, "Hey, listen, the governor's wearing a mask, and you should wear a mask to protect our industry." It was us taking a stand, but the stand was really only taken because the unions and guilds and associations agreed. We'll have to do the same thing with the vaccination.

You're building out a neighboring town for people to live. Is this the future of production facilities?

I don't think so. In some ways, what we're doing is what Mr. Disney did. The mill town is not a new concept. But if we didn't have a state with a reputation for being so business friendly, for having the tax incentives, for having the most traveled airport in the world, if those things didn't exist right there, believe me, we couldn't do this. I grew up in Hill Country outside of San Antonio, Texas. You cannot do this in San Antonio, Texas.

How many people are buying houses and apartments on the Trilith property?

We have 400 of the apartments built, 260 of them occupied. We’re at almost 300 homes now sold and 500 people in the town. We're working on our next set of 150 homes right now and starting our third micro village. The second micro village filled up like that (snaps fingers). We have 36 people on the waiting list. What’s happening — and this is a global trend — is that COVID has heightened our awareness of the benefits of this approach to working. The distributed workforce and the way for us to collaborate with these electronic tools is causing a lot of people to realize that they don't have to live in the town they thought they have to live in. So I think people thought it was going to be more like a second home, but they're actually staying here.

Every few years it seems there’s some controversial legislation in Georgia that pops up and Hollywood threatens a boycott, whether it’s an anti-LGBT or anti-abortion bill. Do you just assume it's going to pass?

These kinds of ebbs and flows of social discourse and its impact on the industry will never go away. Georgia is not immune to it. The film industry has been this wonderful beacon of possibility, and I do worry, given what's going on in our culture right now, that we as an industry could get caught sideways in this in some way that really dampens our ability to continue to have diverse views on the world.

Georgia's film incentives program has been criticized by some as an irresponsible use of taxpayer money. Do you see it being phased out or pared in the future?

This state is very proud of the fact that seven years in a row now it’s the number one state in the United States to do business. They saw the film industry as a way to really diversify its economy, to bring the creative class into the state. So they wrote this policy that was supported left and right, and that still is the case. I'm not a politician, but I'm on all of these committees, and what I noticed is they were so careful and specific about making it make business sense. It would be very difficult for anyone to turn it around now because it's just good, smart money — and you have both Democrats and Republicans looking at it. But in every session in every state always in the U.S., you will have people come up and write up some kind of legislation, "Let's get rid of tax incentives." It's just not going to happen. I would be really surprised.

But there were some changes to it recently, yes?

There were parts that we needed to improve on around auditing and how we manage the information and our relationship with all the productions. We needed to clean up some of the back of house stuff, so Representative Matt Dollar passed some amendments last session that are now going into effect that really helped clean up the whole process.

Interview edited for length and clarity.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

[zmwrites]

tag: 20 first lines

I was tagged by @teasenpaiwrites! Thank you!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag others!

I was tagged in a similar game LITERALLY forever ago by @scmalarky PRE-BLOG MOVE, which makes it the oldest tag game sitting my drafts. It came with the following rules:

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I put it off bc to date I’ve only published two stories over on Wattpad. So doing the first lines from the last twenty projects is somehow...easier? I suppose? 

I’ll be putting the opening paragraph or so of each piece, and will only be using WIPs that I actually started at the beginning. Anything that doesn’t start at the actual beginning will be skipped.

Anyways, this is going under a cut bc I know it’s going to be ridiculously long. In order of ‘last modified by me’ as per Google Docs:

Remnants

Radka had been a seamstress in a previous life. Trained from childhood on the most delicate stitches, the most intricate embellishments. She had worked for royalty, sewing crystals and spun gold into skirts for the biggest social events of the year. Her steady hand and attention to detail had earned her a job in the palace by fourteen, and a spot on the queen’s personal seamstress team by fifteen. But that was years in the past. The girl she had been then, demure and innocent, wouldn’t recognize the woman she had grown up to be.

Open Seas

Theresia Bowen sat in the back of one of her family carriages, forehead pressed against the window as she watched the countryside fly past. The sky stretched on forever above her, interrupted only by the occasional wispy white clouds, and the spring sun had melted the snow from the hills to her left. The grass was still struggling to grow but was scattered in patches across the mud. To her right, the sea rolled and waved to the horizon. Ships dotted the deep blue, their sails bright and full with wind. Most were trading ships, a few navy, and the smallest of them all were pleasure ships. It was how she knew they were close to her destination.

Indigo Wars

Violet Colby sat cross-legged on her narrow bed in the room she shared with her two sisters at Osbrick Estate. The name was a holdover from the property’s previous life as a stately home, though not much else had carried over. The walled compound was nestled in the eastern sands of Edristan, less than two kilometres west of the capital city, with sun-bleached buildings that housed several dozen orphans and foundlings.

Pine Hollow

It was a miserable Monday morning, with dark, heavy clouds masking the rising sun and a steady rain pounding the town of Pine Hollow and the surrounding area. The dirt trails through the dense forest were slick with mud, the tire ruts becoming puddles and the puddles becoming proper ponds. It was as far from ideal body hunting conditions as possible without snow, but Virginia Crane had a job to do and she wasn’t about to let some adverse weather stop her.

Rochester WIP

The wedding was supposed to begin in five minutes and the bride was nowhere to be found.

Evelyn Rochester, for her part, was not surprised. Her sister Dorothea had claimed a headache a week earlier to get out of a family outing and had been gone by the time they’d returned. A small chest and a collection of her clothing had been gone as well. Their parents had made inquiries to some family friends but no one had seen Dottie, and at twenty-six she was allowed to do as she pleased, so they’d been left to wait to see if she’d return.

Just Jane

Jane rolled over in the narrow bed, pressing her face into the pillow as though it would make it any easier to sleep. Even as she breathed in the warm, sweet scent of the bed owner’s favourite perfume—myrrh, rose, styrax, and marjoram—a new sound made her ears prick to attention.

UNSS Spectre

The spacecraft glided through the void, following its prey silently. It was using its minimum operating power, leaving the two inside to perform their duties without overhead or emergency lighting. Only the glow of their instruments illuminated the interior of the craft. 

“Cloaking device operating as normal,” Ensign Graecyn Ramsey said. She didn’t need to provide verbal updates since Captain Mezei could see everything that she could see and there was no one else aboard the tiny stealth class craft, but it was habit and she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Fissures

Katherine Delacroix was seething. It was hard enough trying to get a gaggle of thirteen to eighteen year old girls to focus under normal circumstances but having the #1 most eligible bachelor of the school just hanging out at the back of the auditorium was making it nearly impossible. To make matters worse, the attention paid to the blond was bruising the egos of the boys in the group and she was painfully aware of how desperately the musical needed them not to quit. They already had a female Cogsworth and Le Fou; they didn't have enough girls with deep voices to play Gaston or Lumiere or, god forbid, Beast.

Snapshots

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” Misha asked, voice muffled slightly by whatever she was doing on the opposite end of the phone.

“You mean since you stole my last one? Yes,” Micah replied. He was stuck in traffic on his commute home from work, something his twin sister Misha knew, which was why she’d called when he had no excuse not to talk to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to her, he just wasn’t much of a talker.

“You’re gonna have to get over that,” she said.

The Tournament

The coin spun in lazy circles on the table, defying every law of physics. Izora Graham watched it with one hand held in a claw-like position over it. She didn't need to but it made it easier to cover the coin should anyone watch it too closely. The bar was still fairly empty so early in the evening and she was tucked away in the back booth away from the few early birds sitting at the counter, however any displays of magic would bring unwanted attention. Especially something that could be useful to any of the Upper Houses like her telekinesis.

Noyama Contest

Earthens had spread across dozens of galaxies once they’d perfected faster-than-light travel, and hundreds of solar systems within those galaxies. PT-759 was one of the galaxies they’d colonized only to find that it was already inhabited. It had ended up working out alright though, as the native species had radically different planetary needs and also happened to find Earthens downright adorable.

Naetov was a smaller planet at the edge of Federation-controlled space in PT-759. It had a few key cities where government funding was funneled to keep them perfect for non-Earthen tourists. Those cities were clean and friendly, open spaces and carefully maintained flora making up the downtown cores, streamlined designs and shiny surfaces giving the impression of a planet on the cusp of significance.

Gossamer Girl

It was the first day of winter and things were already looking bad. Even though the cold weather had held off for an extra two weeks, the harvest had been poor. A mold had festered in their southern field during the wet spring and had spread quickly. They’d razed the infected sections as soon as the fungus had been discovered but it had already destroyed a large swath of plants. They’d lost nearly a quarter of their usual yield and the troubles had only spiralled from there.

Knotted Strings

The room was just a bit too cold to be comfortable. The walls were wood panelled with some sort of reddish wood that matched the flooring. Rows of chairs with collapsible desks filled most of the lecture hall, with the front of the room dominated by a whiteboard and a table. The professor, hawkish in appearance, was perched on a bar stool facing the students and overlooking the table.

Tess lounged in her seat at the table at the front of the room, notebook open on the table in front of her and pen moving deftly across the page. She watched her competition critically as he spoke. His argument was solid enough to cast reasonable doubt on her case, or it would have been had he bothered to address a small piece of evidence she found to be damning. He finished his conclusion to a spatter of applause and returned to his seat across from her. 

“Well done, Mr. Wynn. Miss Kinney, would you like a few moments to prepare your rebuttal?” the professor asked.

“No, I’m good,” Tess replied. She sat up, scribbled a note in her book, and then pushed the book across the table.

Oh, Ophelia

Alexis lounged in the shade next to the pool, sipping a daiquiri and considering her next move. She’d been using the same identity for nearly fifteen years and the neighbours were starting to get suspicious. With all the new beauty products and surgeries available to people of her wealth it was easier to convince people she was nearing forty when she was in the body of a twenty-three year old, but now she had to deal with people asking for her skincare routines and her doctors and the identity wasn’t worth all of the research she was having to do. She was getting sick of Malibu anyways, what with the yearly forest fires that got closer each year. She missed the deep-rooted history of Europe, the memories she had in all of the major cities, the people like her who were still living in their castles and manors pretending like the world hadn’t left them behind.

Bloodlines

Ten of Wands. The Tower. Two of Swords.

Morrigan Keeling sat on the floor of her bedroom, chewing the end of a pen and staring intently at the tarot cards spread in front of her. It was a simple three card spread to indicate how her day was going to go: a card to describe herself, one to indicate what was going to greet her, and another to show the outcome of the situation. She’d gotten into the habit of doing it every day while living at home, and even five years after moving out she found it a relaxing routine to start the day.

The day’s cards, however, were not very relaxing.

PerDeA

The backseat of the car was dark, only illuminated for short intervals by the orange glow of the streetlights. Two figures sat across from each other in the shifting light. In the backwards-facing seat on the driver’s side was PerDeA. Her dark hair was pulled tightly into a ponytail, lips slightly parted as she stared unblinking out the back window. Shoulders square, back straight, chin up, hands folded neatly in her lap, her breathing perfectly rhythmic; she would have looked human if not for the faintly glowing cybernetic blue rings superimposed over her black eyes.

Westhaven

Her eyes were open but she couldn’t see anything. There were mechanical sounds ‒ beeping, whirring ‒ all around her, and voices too far away for her to understand. The sharp smell of antiseptic and the softer detergent scent beneath it.

“Initiate optical system,” a muted female voice instructed. Between one breath and the next she started processing visual information: bright white lights above her, the featureless ceiling beyond, her own nose and eyelashes. She couldn’t move her head to see much else. Walls that matched the ceiling so well it was hard to tell where one became the other, bits of the bed she was on with its bleachable white sheets and side rails.

“Increase tactile responsivity by fifty percent and disengage the motion inhibitors.”

Pro Patria Mori

She sat on the narrow bed with her packed suitcase next to her. Her blonde hair was pinned back, her blue eyes fixed on a spot next to the door, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The winter chill clung like burrs to the house, helped by the heavy spring rain that beat against the window in a staccato rhythm. Outside, trees bowed under the charcoal sky. The old house creaked and groaned around her, the wind whistling and wailing as the storm continued to batter the country estate. She waited.

At any moment there would be a knock on the main door of the house. Godfrey, the aged and shuffling butler, would answer. Standing on the other side would be some men in crisp uniforms, holding up her picture and asking if he knew her. She had seen them in town the evening before, and it wouldn’t take more than a day before someone pointed them in the right direction. They looked like military men but there was something different in their manner, something sharper. Godfrey would lead them up, and up, and up, until they reached her third floor apartment. The butler would introduce them, she would smile politely, and she would leave with them without a fight.

The Clocktower

Astra hated Capperham. The way it sprawled its squalor from border to border, from the sea in the west to the battlements in the other three directions. The harbour reeked of dead fish and unwashed human, the slums of sickness and stale beer. Even the neighbourhoods of rich merchants and factory owners lay under the thick smog of black soot the mines and mills spat out day and night. The grit and dirt was part of everything, so deeply ingrained that even the most rigorous scrubbing couldn’t make something clean.

Stars Incline Us

The Christmas gala was in full swing. The entire ballroom was full of people Pippa didn’t know, all wearing fancy clothes that probably cost more than her rent. Her own dress was aubergine and a simple V-neck, form-fitting enough to be attractive but loose enough to not draw too much attention.

She and another girl who didn’t seem to know anyone at the event were chatting with Antero and Mr. Rabinoff near the edge of the dance floor. Antero was already antsy to leave despite the dinner having just ended, but Mr. Rabinoff had trapped him in a debate he was too proud to back down from. The other girl was from legal and either found them hilarious or had had a little too much to drink because she kept giggling, leaving Pippa no choice but to laugh along while adding the occasional remark to the back and forth between the men.

That brings us all the way back to October 2016. Which tells me that I need to start at the beginning of more stories haha. If anyone has questions about any of these, please feel free to ask. Also, if you read all of that, you are a saint and a hero and have my eternal friendship.

I tag @the-writing-avocado​, @radiowrites​, @pigeon-hold​, @sleepyowlwrites​, @akindofmagictoo​, and anyone else who wants to share their projects!! As always, no pressure (to play or to read this whole post lmao).