#I know I should be grateful for the home we have even if it’s poisoning us but hey that’s a fucked up sentence isn’t it

[shego1142]

I know yall probably know about poverty and generational poverty and what not but I just want to vent….

Because like… the things people don’t like know about generational poverty unless they’re experiencing it is just how… trapped you feel… weighed down by absolutely everything.

See I honestly think something may be up with our gas line

Which is a terrifying thought.

Now, idk if it’s a leak per se (though we’ve got the windows cracked just in case) but if we turn on our stove the gas smell is really strong, the flame flairs out of the sides of the stove, etc.

Shit that shouldn’t be happening.

Shit that is really fucking dangerous.

We know this is dangerous, we’re not stupid.

We know we should get it fixed.

But here’s the thing, okay?

The floors are just base boards, they’re falling in and there’s holes everywhere.

There’s rats that we’ve tried every trick in the book to get rid of, short of hiring an exterminator. We’ve borrowed traps, had traps “gifted” to us, tried poisons that friends and family have bought for us, etc. It cuts them down but they come back.

All of our food is in thick sealed plastic containers and yet they’ve eaten some of the containers open. They even ate our soap and makeup and cleaning supplies and that didn’t seem to stop them. (Our soap and cleaning supplies are now in plastic containers too but idk how long it will deter them, and the makeup is thrown away)

We have shoddy wiring in the house, done by my own grandpa back in the 70’s when they first bought this place.

Our roof has cracks in it that have failing patches, done by a family friend.

Our AC doesn’t exactly work very well and it’s been reaching 100°F weather (with 70% humidity no less) and to fix it we’d need $10k at least, but we’d also need new flooring, so it would likely be more than that…

Etc.

And like, it’s not that the house is dirty, but that it’s falling apart.

And here’s the deal… calling someone who knows what’s what about houses to check the stove means calling someone who is going to inspect the whole house, someone who’s going to say:

“hey uh, your gas is messed up and your electricity is messed up and so’s your plumbing… Your floors are bad… we have to condemn this house and if you can’t pay to fix it up then you’re going to lose it.”

And it’s not like we got this house and destroyed it by a lack of maintenance, this house is like, 50+ years old, and has been my home since I was born.

My grandma and I couldn’t take care of everything because my grandpa had Alzheimer’s and he was going downhill and it was me and her caring for him.

My health is really bad and I can’t work a regular day job because of it, but I haven’t been able to hire a lawyer to apply for disability, so we’re living off one income and whatever side gigs I can do from time to time.

We don’t have the money to pay the mortgage, buy groceries, pay the home insurance, the gas bill, pay medical bills, buy pet food, etc and also then pay for our house to be inspected and potentially condemned for things I didn’t even do in the first place, things that came before I inherited this house…

My whole family has been poor my whole life, from my great great grandparents to my parents, etc.

It was always “you don’t pay for a professional to fix it, you either fix it yourself or get a family member or a friend of a friend to fix it”

Which means that if we ask a building inspector to tell us what’s wrong with the house… well… it’s going to probably be everything. Because this house has never been “professionally” fixed, it’s only ever had family members and friends of family members slap duct tape over glaring issues and say they’ll only charge you a glass of sweet tea.

Which means it’ll probably cost nearly the entire value of the house to fix tbh.

I just feel like I’m on a ship that’s sinking and way more water is coming in than I could ever manage to get out. I keep trying to patch the leaks but the materials just not available, and besides, if I stop bailing out the water for even a second to go and try and patch the leak, I’ll go fully underwater.

And you know, it’s not fair. It’s not right that it’s like this. This is our home and we love it. This has been my home for years and we love this house, this land, the trees and plants that grow, everything here is loved. It’s cared for. We try to take pride in it.

But you wouldn’t know that because we’re too busy trying to bail out that sinking ship. We’re too busy from constantly working and cleaning and repairing.

It’s not okay that it’s set up that way. We need help, we need community. We should be able to call someone and be like “Hey, we love this house, we’ve never been late on a payment, we’ve worked our butts off to try and keep things going, but we need help. Can you look at everything this house needs to function and be in good condition and help us get those things?”

Like, hell a payment plan option would work, wouldn’t it? Why isn’t that the done thing?

I mean, I know why, the more houses that are taken from the poor means the more real estate that’s available for the rich, they’re already trying to make our whole neighbourhood into some corporate venture instead of a residential area. And besides, if they manage to make us homeless they’d be just as happy throwing us in jail for the “crime” of being homeless and poor and making money off free labour.

Like that’s why it’s normal practice not to help anyone keep their home when they actually have a home. The system is set up for you to fail unless your family is at least moderately wealthy.

It’s just such an unforgiving cycle. And I know I’m beating a dead horse with this vent. I know that like over half of America’s population is likely in the same shitty place we’re in.

It’s just… I’m so tired of being in cycles like these.

I’m too sick to work, too poor to afford to get on disability, and both too poor and too exhausted to go to the doctor to get proper treatment, and it’s just a loop.

I’m too exhausted to fix the house, too busy cleaning the house to rest, too exhausted to make money to have professionals help fix the house, rinse and repeat.

The house breaking down is very likely making me more sick, but I’m too sick to be able to get the house fixed.

My grandparents didn’t have money to fix the house, my parents don’t have money to fix theirs, I don’t have money to fix my house.

Every step forward is like ten steps backwards and I genuinely don’t know what the solution to all of this is.

I feel so fucking trapped. I don’t even have the energy to run a gofundme for myself to try and get the help we need, because it takes so so much to to actually get a gofundme up and off the ground, I have tried before and it’s always been a failure because I just literally never have enough energy for it.

We have so many things we’d love to do. We’d love to make this house into an eco-friendly, sustainable home, with solar panels and a huge garden. We want to make a farm stand with fresh eggs and vegetables and fruit and let it operate on an honour system, so anyone who needs food can take what they need and pay what they can, yes even if it’s $0. I want to crochet hats and mittens and set those out too, for sale or just for those who need them…

We want so badly to take care of our community… but it feels like our community isn’t there to support us, not because people don’t want to support one another but because we’re all trapped or are being prevented from supporting one another.

Because having a farm-stand means you need to buy business licenses… building a sustainable home means you need to buy a building permit.

Every step of the way feels like good intentions are wasted, road-blocked.

I can’t even begin to explain how many jobs I’ve applied to, writing, editing, working as a cook or a waiter, data entry, etc.

In school they told me I’d be able to do anything I wanted to. I was a “gifted” straight A student and as I’m sure many people on this site know, that’s not bragging. It’s the opposite. The school system, the system that is supposed to help me be successful in life, told me I would be, and now I would be lucky to make $7.25/an hour while living in a place where the minimum liveable wage is $35/an hour.

It costs $35 an hour for one person to live moderately comfortably in my town. And this isn’t an arbitrary number, it’s literally on our county’s government ran poverty assessment website.

And that’s not a thriving wage it’s a surviving wage. It’s Home, Food, Utilities, Transportation & Clothes.

It leaves no room for medical care, comfort, entertainment, etc.

So what the hell are those of us who are working for anything less than that, or those of us unable to work, supposed to do?!

And like I said, I know I’m preaching to a choir rn, I know everyone is experiencing some version of this. I just… I need to be able to express it from time to time. To talk about how unfair and ridiculous and needlessly cruel this is.

It’s so deeply flawed and evil that we’re unable to have legitimate health concerns inspected because we’re worried about the house being taken away from us.

It’s trash. It’s inhumane.

And if anyone has any like… suggestions or advice that would be great… I’m considering just having our gas service canceled by our gas company and buying a small electric grill instead… but our gas also powers our hot water heater so…

:/

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x wife!reader Summary: Your husband takes nesting to a whole new level with the paradise he’s found to start his family. Warnings: established relationship, pregnant!reader, fluffiness WC: 1.4k

The property Sebastian had chosen to raise his children upon was everything you could have dreamt of and more. There were rolling meadows full of fragrant flowers, forests of conifers and evergreens, and even a lake with an abundance of trout. The house he had designed was built using recycled material and was sustainable to run with the dozens of solar panels on the roof. He had truly future proofed everything to live a life as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Did you know honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil if you store it properly?” Sebastian barely looked up from the old set of drawers he was upcycling into an apiary. “There were pots of honey found in ancient tombs in Egypt, around 3000 years old.”

“I still don't see why we need bees at our home.”

“Because, my love,” he said as he placed his hammer down and pulled you into his arms, “this is our future we are building. Without bees there’s no pollination, with no pollination there’s no flowers, or fruit and vegetables.” His hand splayed across your swollen belly, feeling his son’s kicks against his palm with a smile. “It’s our responsibility to protect our future.”

The outdoor sofa where you were reading was a current favourite place of yours. It was tranquil and warm and allowed you to get off your feet for a little bit while your husband pottered around in the garden. With only a few weeks to your due date everything ached from your neck to your ankles so you kicked your feet up and listened to the birdsong.

The hiss of pain was one you had come to know well recently and it only took a minute for Seb to appear at the edge of the garden, the metal gate squeaking on its rusted hinge. He cupped one hand over his cheek, one eye closed with a wince as he ascended the stairs to the deck.

“You wouldn’t get stung if you used the smoke, love,” you softly reminded him as he took a seat and pulled his hand away. “Oh dear, that’s a big one.”

“We don’t know the long term effect the smoke has on them, it could be poisoning them,” he said as he turned his head so you could use your nails to pull the stinger out without squeezing more toxin into his cheek. “They will recognise me soon and realise I’m not going to hurt them.”

“If you say so.” You loved your husband but you weren’t so sold on the trust building exercise he found himself in. More often than not after going to check the beehive you found yourself in this position, grateful he wasn’t allergic. “How is your queen doing?”

His lips pulled up into a smile and he sat down on the edge of the seat, pulling your feet onto his lap and massaging your swollen ankles. “You tell me, my sweet, how are you doing?”

Emotions swelled in your chest and you cursed as he laughed, leaning closer to wipe away the tear that escaped. “Damn these hormones. You should really stop being so nice so my poor tear ducts can have a break. Can’t you just be a jerk?” His laugh grew and with it the kicks increased. “Yes, yes, daddy’s laughing at me.”

“I would never laugh at your mother,” he chuckled, lifting your shirt to press his lips to your belly. Stretch marks littered the skin and you dared not to think about the other changes that you couldn’t see below the swell, but he still made you feel beautiful. “Everything she is going through is my fault.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a smile. “Daddy spent a lot of time romancing and seducing me, and now here you are.”

Seb looked up, his long hair hanging in naturally soft waves around his face. “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could hardly concentrate on the race after seeing you.”

“It couldn't have affected you too much,” you said as you tucked his hair behind his ear, “you still won.”

“I had to make a good impression somehow, since I could barely speak a word when we were introduced,” he admitted as he looked out over the garden he tendered.

You followed his gaze knowing he was going to be a great father considering the care he gave to the garden, and you. “It was your eyes I fell for anyway, they looked sweet and kind.”

The rows of plants were just flowering and you traced them to see the little bursts of yellows that all too soon would become bright red ripe tomatoes. Next were the beans, too many varieties to count, all climbing the trellis Seb had made from the wood of fallen trees in the forest. Further beyond were your favourites, the bushes that were brimming with berries of every flavour. Each morning you would amble your way to them with Seb and a bowl, pointing out the juiciest looking berries for him to pick for your smoothie.

Patting his good cheek, you shuffled to sit up and swing your legs off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

With a groan you pulled yourself to your feet and rubbed the straining skin at your sides. “To get some ice to stop that swelling,” you said as you pointed to his face. “You need to be able to see properly if you are thinking about getting back in a race car this weekend.”

“I can get it, you rest.” He followed you into the house even after catching the roll of your eyes and watched you struggle to bend down to reach the ice tray at the bottom of the freezer. Unable to stop himself, his hands caught your waist and straightened you up before he grabbed the tray. “I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

“I said the same thing, but you still went and got stung.”

“But that’s because I have you to kiss me better.”

You smiled at the softness in his tone and gave him the gentlest of kisses to his swollen cheek, barely the touch of a butterfly's wing. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, I don’t even need this anymore,” he said as he turned to put the tray away until you stopped him with an amused look.

“Nurburgring,” you reminded him, grabbing a tea towel to wrap the ice cubes in.

He had been excited since he got the call from Christian Horner to drive the historic track, and in a car modified to run on eco-friendly fuel no less. He was not going to do anything to miss the opportunity to return to the racetrack, even though he enjoyed retirement and the quiet life he had built in the rural settlement. So, he quietly accepted the ice pack and carefully pressed it to his cheek.

“It’s a dangerous track, Seb,” you murmured as you took over holding it, cradling his other cheek with your palm. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”

His hands came to rest on your stomach, nearly covering it all as he splayed his fingers apart. “Of course, my love. And you need to stay in one piece until I get home.”

You giggled and felt the strong kick responding to his voice. “I have a feeling your son will take his time. Would you resort to one of those dreadful planes if he decides to come early?”

His lips twitched in amusement, used to your jibing over the consciousness of his carbon footprint. “I could probably drive home faster, with a few speeding tickets along the way, but I might be able to lower myself to boarding a plane for him.”

“Ah, that’s a father’s love,” you giggled. “He doesn’t even know what a sacrifice that would be.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack so he could dip his head and kiss you. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

“Except get rid of the bees.”

His lips curled against yours in a smile you felt. “Except that.”

[lex-the-flex]

A thought for this post: bobf luke meditation, plopping you in his lap (or you sit in his, whichever you prefer) and having a lil handsy makeout session 👀

Just Us

A/N: It's about time I answered this request. I hope you enjoy!

“I don’t see anything unusual. Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask, shifting closer.

"Yes, I'm fine, Y/N. But are you sure?" Luke asks.

"Yes, I'm sure. All the poison has left your system by now. The doctors checked you three times before we could come back here." You explain.

Nodding, Luke silently wishes this constant state of anxiety would just go away. He hadn't even been back for two weeks and he survived being injected with a powerful poison that nearly corroded him from the inside.

"It's like you said: both 3PO and R2 are doing their best to find the source of the toxin. Regardless if it lingered on your glove, you were still exposed, Luke." You continue.

"I know. I'm just glad I didn't make you come with me." He replies, glancing your way.

Sitting down next to him, the stone bench feels warm despite the breeze. Looking at Luke, an enormous wave of exhaustion fills his face, and you can tell he wants nothing more than sleep.

"Come on, why don't you try to take a nap? I'll go to the kitchen and made you some hot cocoa. Hopefully they still have Lando's recipe." You announce, ready to stand up from the bench.

Motioning to stand, Luke grabs your wrist, forcing you to stop. Turning to him, he quickly pulls you in his lap, arms tight around your physique. A tiny gasp overtakes your lips once you and Luke lock eyes. His bright blue orbs glow like a fresh layer of ice on top of a lake, but the bags of his eyes have the faintest hue or purple to them.

"Oh, Luke. You really should sleep." You whisper.

"I will ...as long as you're there. Please, Y/N. I just want your arms around me, that's all." Luke says, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

Silently tracing the scar above his upper lip, your hands move to the back of his neck, reminding Luke of your gentle nature.

"Of course I will. If that's what you want." You answer, leaning closer.

"It's all I want." Luke declares.

Capturing your chin with his thumb, Luke crashes his lips on yours, refusing to let go. Slowly kissing you, you fingers run through his dirty blonde hair, pushing his bangs away from his face. Running his hands down your shoulders to your hips, the fabric of your dark robes feels as soft as the Palace's silk bedding, like home in a way.

Strands of your hair tickled Luke's face and jaw, reminding him that he should shave soon. Carefully moving his grip to your waist, the sound of your kisses fills Luke's ears with a satisfying hum rising in his chest, letting him know that he was grateful to you taking care of him.

tagging~

@dreamliners

@midnightepiphany

@maybeimart

@nonbinary-tatooine

@kaleidoscope1967eyes

@dailydragon08

@eveningserenityyy

@sonofthedunes

@wicked0clouds

@tearsleftt

@thereallchristine

@partofmejustwantstosleep

@xxx-aurora-swirls

@remusstefon

@annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

@0paperairplane0

@jobean12-blog

@winter-soldier-101

@kethamine

@pantaeudaimonia

@acupnoodle

@flawroses

@xplore-the-unknwn

@tatooineknights

@myevilmouse

@edwxrdkenway

@gabbasposts

@garagesesh

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby Blurb (The Night Out)

You threw your head back allowing the shot of vodka to burn as it went down your throat. You giggled leaning forward, placing the glass back down on the table.

“What number is that?” Willy yelled from across the table.

“8?” You questioned turning your head to look at Auston for confirmation.

“No!” He objected. “I think it’s 9.”

“No.” You protested back. “We had four at Mitch and Steph’s, two when we first got here, and then these two.” You gestured down to the four shot glasses on the table.

“Nuh uh” Auston shook his head. “We had one in the car over here too.”

You tried to remember the car ride to the bar but it felt like it was hours ago now and impossible to recall. “It doesn’t matter, we’re still tied.”

“You can’t admit you’re wrong.” Auston crossed his arms, smirking over at you.

“Yes I can.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you’re wrong and I’m right.”

“Auston,” you sighed “please just be grateful that I’m even talking to you.”

“You should be the one that’s grateful. Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot right now.”

“Enough for your inflated ego to talk about it.”

Auston shrugged pushing your now empty shot glasses to the edge of the table for one of the workers to pick up. “I’m just saying you should feel special.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m (y/f/n) (y/l/n), I don’t need anyone to make me feel special.”

It was now Auston’s turn to roll his eyes, “And I’m the one with the big ego?”

“Talk to me when you’re the number one artist in the world”

“Don’t need to worry about it, I’m the number one hockey player in the world.”

“Were options limited this past year?” Your sarcastic tone and tilt of the head didn’t phase Auston.

“They actually chose me based on my skill, not me performing with autotune and short skirts.”

“Sorry what was that” you cupped your left ear “I couldn’t hear you over my auto tuned song.”

Your song that has sat at the #1 spot on the charts for the past few weeks played through the speakers. It was perfect timing. You never got used to hearing your own voice or watching other people sing along to your words, but it was also the best feeling.

You smirked as Auston got up from the table without another word knowing that you won that conversation. You hummed along as ‘Thank u, next’ slowly faded into another song.

“Here.” Auston returned to the table sitting down another shot in front of you. “To inflated egos.”

You laughed, but raised your glass with his and threw the liquid back down your throat.

The night carried on much like the beginning, but somewhere along the way you lost count of your shots, but it got to a point where you no longer cared. You were beyond drunk, but this was the first time in a while you were actually able to enjoy yourself.

Your world tour was about to start up and you knew this was the only break you’d be having for a while. You planned to leave Toronto the next day, go back home to spend time with your family for a few days and then tour starts.

“She’s hammered.” Justin watched as you swayed to the music, holding onto Steph.

“At least they’re having fun.” Morgan commented, also watching all the girls giggle and dance together.

“How many shots did you guys end up taking?”

“Twelve, but she thinks it’s higher.” Auston explained, “she’s been cut off since midnight, I payed the bartender to replace all of her drinks and shots with water.”

Both Morgan and Justin shared a look and then put their attention onto Auston.

“What?” Auston asked noticing the way they were looking at him.

“That’s just a nice thing to do for someone you hate.” Morgan shrugged not wanting to make it a big deal.

“I figured her getting alcohol poisoning would put a hold on the whole tour thing. Consider it community service.”

“Well, thank you for your service.” Morgan chuckled standing up, “but I’m getting Tessa and we’re going to go home before she damages something.”

As morgan approached the group of girls to grab his wife you all immediately began booing and begging him to let Tessa stay a little longer. When it became clear your pleas weren’t going to work you all made your way back to the group.

You attempted to place your glass down on the table but it slipped out of your hand and landed with a thud on the ground.

“Okay.” Justin picked up the glass. “That’s it your done for the night.”

“No.” You pouted crossing your arms. “I out drank Auston, so now I’m celebrating.” You refused to take no for an answer leaning across the table to grab another glass.

“Nope.” Auston picked up the glass before you could reach it.

“Auston.” You glared at him from across the table.

“You won, there’s nothing else to prove, time to go home.” Auston leaned back, knowing there would be no argument and that his word would be final.

“Don’t talk to me like im a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“Justin.” You huffed and turned too quickly toward your best friend causing you to stumble, but the mishap didn’t stop you, “Tell Auston to shut up.”

But before he could respond Morgan and Tessa were back, “We have a problem. Papparazi are outside and they aren’t leaving until you two come out. Morgan pointed toward you and Justin.

“She can’t even walk straight right now.” Justin pointed at you leaning against the table for support.

“Okay then what do we do because we have about 30 minutes until this place closes.” Willy reminded all of you looking down at his watch.

“I can call and get one of my guys to pick us up out front.” Justin gestured between himself and Hailey. “But I’m not letting her go out there like this.” He gestured toward you.

“Tell Mike to come around to the back.” Auston learned your drivers name from earlier when he dropped you all off at the bar. You insisted he take you, not trusting anyone else. “I’ve got an idea.”

Once the plan was set into place, Morgan, Tessa, Mitch, Steph, Willy, and a few of the younger guys all left first. Justin and Hailey prepared to leave next, preparing you as well without you knowing.

“Trust me. You guys go out the front and at the same time I’ll take her out the back, they’ll never know.” Auston reassured Justin.

“She’s gonna fight you, once she realizes what’s going on.”

“I can handle her.”

As Justin and Hailey walked toward the front door you frowned realizing that they were actually leaving not going to get another round like you thought.

Auston picked you up and placed you over his shoulder before you could react. You immediately began hitting his back and yelling at him to put you down. He got you to the back where Mike was waiting and placed you in the car getting in after.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You yelled stressing the first two words.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it.” Auston put his hands up in defense.

“First off, I dont need you man handling me to get me out of a bar!” You yelled throwing your arms in the air, “Secondly, why did you wake him up?” Your finger flew toward the front seat.

Mike had been working as your driver since the beginning and more often than not where you went he followed. However, you never liked to make him stay up late just for you.

“You couldn’t stand up straight, let alone walk.” Auston fired back his voice also rising to match yours. “And it was either wake him up or your picture would be on the front page of every magazine tomorrow morning, drunk and stumbling.” Auston didn’t expect you to be overjoyed with how things went down, but he didn’t intend for you to be so ungrateful.

You knew you were wrong, but being stubborn was something you were good at. And you weren’t ready to apologize yet, so you crossed your arms and shifted your body so you were facing the window.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or all the bumps in the Toronto streets but you soon began to feel sick.

“Mike, can I please have a bag?” You asked waiting for the plastic bag to be handed back. As soon as it was you were throwing up into it.

You felt hands that could only belong to Auston bundle your hair into a ponytail as he held it out of your face. You wished you only got sick once, but unfortunately it was three more times before you sat back up. You tied up the bag and placed it on the ground and wiped your mouth.

“Thank you.” You mumbled as Auston let go of your hair and sat back in his seat.

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. The car fell back into silence and that’s how it remained for the rest of the drive.

The next morning you left Toronto very early, but not before you dropped off a gift at Scotiabank arena. Auston arrived to afternoon practice expecting it to be a tough one, but what he didn’t expect was the envelope waiting in his locker for him. It was blank except for one sentence ‘thank you and I’m sorry’

He opened up the envelope and smiled at the contents. Inside were six vip tickets to your show in Arizona along with backstage passes.

It was over three months ago when Auston explained that his little cousins loved you and wanted to attend your concert but it sold out before they could buy tickets, of course this admission was also followed by a jab about him not understanding why anyone would want to see you. But you remembered the conversation and figured it was the start to an apology.

He tucked the envelope into his bag and sent you a quick text. ‘Thanks, I’ll see you in Arizona’

[maxwell-grant]

Fuck it, can you expand on your thoughts regarding What Can We Know About Thunderman?

One of the funniest and most horrible things I've ever read partially because like 60% of it is just pages and pages of Alan Moore stating industry facts and names with the serial numbers filed off, and if you have enough comic book brainworms to be reading Thunderman in the first place there will probably be at least one or a dozen references here and there that will spring out of nowhere and hit you like a punch in the gut (the one I remember was the Jack Cole one). A lot of the stuff in Thunderman that reads as absurd funny parody or metaphors too stupid to be real are actual industry facts that Moore has knowledge of, and even the stuff that isn't you can trace a direct line of what exactly it's referring to or who exactly this is referencing.

This is a story in part about how horrible it is to be a sicko with comic book brain worms that is mainly understandable if you're exactly that kind of person. Besides all the references to real-life people and events, most of the modern stuff he's making up are still just as incisive and accurate because literally nothing changed, not even in regards to the movie paradigm ("At last he has attained a semblance to a religious figure. Can we stop now?"). Much of this is Moore dunking on Certain Industry Guys he probably knew and interacted with and indirectly bullseyeing on more recent guys, because a lot of these guys are the same. There are your extremes like the one con-goer here who is pretty much just Max Landis verbatim, but there's also so much that's brutally on-point for industry practices and writers ("What if we had Thunderman do something, and then something happened?") that you can fill in your own names.

It's also an incredibly personal and tragic piece because the core story of it, in between vivid descriptions of Greg Land's office space porn oceans and self-destructive daydreams and rolling catastrophes, is about a guy who deeply loves his art form, deeply loves the creators and artists who gave him so much for so little in his life, and deals with so much horrible toxic bullshit that the only way he finds to live, the only way he finds to not be complicit in the pigsty, is to leave it all behind and work the poison out of his system forever. Like he very openly talks about the protagonist leaving it all behind to go write the next big novel and writing that note, and the non-superhero ideas that will come after, as something that nobody is going to care about, but that he has to do. I don't think I could fully appreciate the sequence where he quits his job at comics and walks out of the office feeling better than ever, until I myself got fired from an incredibly stressful job that made a thing I love (video editing) into the bane of my existence, and no amount of money worries in the world could make me not feel at that moment like I was walking home to the sunniest day of the year.

It wasn't only how much better life was without comics that had startled him, but also how the comics business looked, viewed from outside. How small it was; how cruel and how ridiculous. All the warped personalities the industry either attracted, or else bent and fashioned for itself out of naïve enthusiasts who'd been expecting something else. He couldn't understand why he'd not bailed out of the business years ago, though in a way he could. Part of the answer was just plain human inertia, and part was the fact that, from the inside, comics people and their weird behaviour could seem almost normal.

Dan was grateful he'd escaped in time, though he'd admit that even that escape was qualified. Removing himself from the comics field was one thing, stopping thinking about comics was another. Constantly, he'd find his mind alighting on some decomposing gobbet from the mental garbage-tip of trivia that his career had left him with, when that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking of. He probably should have anticipated some sort of reaction - thirty-something years in any field would leave you with a lot of baggage, and especially an enterprise almost designed to be obsessional, like comics -

His fantasy that he could be a proper literary author, living miles from anywhere and shunning interviews like Salinger or Pynchon, had congealed over this last few months from idle dream to psychological necessity. He'd put his farewell dossier together, and it was published without eliciting much in the way of a reaction or response, but the important thing for Dan was that he'd written it. His lip was better and he could speak normally again, since, for some reason, having quit the comics world, he was no longer trying to eat himself alive. Dan was committed, now, to his new life, and there could be no vacillating. Change or die, those were his options.

And putting aside the fact that "Dan" is killed by the Vince Coletta stand-in and the story itself ends in a much bleaker and more horrible note, to me that feels like Moore being very honest, as depressing as it may be, that nothing else he ever does is gonna get the kind of buzz and following and money and praise that he did for his corporate superhero droppings, and he still doesn't regret one bit what he left behind, and he's going to make the weird magic lizard stories he actually wants to do until he dies and try to not think about superheroes ever again even though he will obviously never fully succeed. Not just because it won't leave him alone, but because it's a part of his life. He loves stories, he loves art, he loves comics, and if not now, he very clearly deeply loved superheroes once, and maybe he still does if he can put aside the sheer nightmare bullshit toxicity attached to them that he's dealt with. I'd even point to a recent occasion he did try just that, with the character of Captain Universe, who accomplishes maybe the only real heroic act in LOEG: Tempest when he stops an atomic bomb from leveling England and ends the story with his big heartfelt wedding.

LOEG is the dead last place you'd expect Moore to place a heartfelt send-off to his superhero work, and much of it gets obscured by that asylum sequence where he savages existing IP capes and the farcical elements of the team and other criticisms at the genre, but it's there, and it's maybe the only story that has a happy ending in the book even. With Captain Universe, a character who has no real history, Moore is able to put all feelings for superhero IP and the big two aside and do this platonic ideal of a superhero and the creative possibilities and hopeful fantasy of a superhero. He's willing to poke holes in the guy and ruthlessly make fun of his shitty allies and villains, but LOEG affords Captain Universe an almost shocking degree of dignity (plus the existence of the canceled Superverse, which was going to be a LOEG-esque project with superheroes done with Rick Veitch tying in to The Show, showing Moore had plans to try writing superheroes again on his own terms even after everything). I think Thunderman in large part is about conciliating these feelings with a large degree of autobiography.

That's one emotional core of the story, but mainly I remember Thunderman for being really fucking funny. The EC Comics hearing. The porn ocean odyssey. Stan Lee Stan Lee-ing so hard he nearly gets killed by gangsters over it and one chapter detailing his transition from person to Character. Marvel was all along a CIA conspiracy to promote radiation poisoning. The chapter that's entirely dedicated to Moore stopping the story to riff and review the Superman movies. This books swings widly and it's an incredibly entertaining read.

And maybe the most horrible thing about Thunderman isn't in the way it's protagonist meets it's end or in the final chapter or even *gestures broadly at all of it*, it might just be the chapter before Alan Moore drops his Superman movie reviews, because with it comes the realization that yes, Alan Moore has been to Reddit, and has looked enough into reddit superhero discourse to be able to plausibly imitate it, which means he probably has sat through at least one argument about him too many. The stand-out of that chapter is the bit where he's riffing on Cavill's mustache fiasco and the DCEU, but it also includes some bits that now read as pretty perfect bullseye jabs at the MCU's current state of affairs.

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 3 — Dark fic.

Rating: M to be safe.

TW: kidnapping, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual touching, kind of forced relationship and captivity (at least implied for the future).

Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black; mentions of James Potter.

Additional Tags: dark Sirius Black, Slytherin Sirius Black, first war against Voldemort, good friend James for what we have of it.

Summary: Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

Words count: 767.

A/N: -wave hand- enjoy, I guess ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Remus wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. He’s wearing only a shirt that isn’t his and his pants, which isn’t exactly that reassuring; when he moves, he feels a strange weight around his wrists, and finds there some sort of padded cuffs we've never seen before. They’re not tied together, but it’s still worrying, and his mind is scrambling trying to parse what happened to land him in this situation.

He was on a mission, maybe? He’s not sure about this part — but he was ambushed by a group of Death Eaters, and he wouldn’t have gotten away if not for the help of an unlikely source. Black — the eldest son — had appeared out of nowhere and saved him in the nick of time. He has never officially joined Voldemort as far as anyone is aware, but still his presence was surprising.

Without him, Remus would be dead — which is quite strange, as they’ve never been close during their school years. Sirius has been a Slytherin, like the rest of his family before and after him, and if he has struck an unlikely-kind-of-friendship with James, the same can’t be said for the two of them. Even his relationship with James has fizzled out during their fifth year, which his friend has always been cagey about; he did say, back then, that Sirius is fun and smart but maybe it doesn’t mean he’s a good person. Remus has only been around the Slytherin the few times he helped James with pranks, during classes, and those times they had class projects together — but that’s not enough to know someone.

Sirius saved Remus, still. He sighs, sits up on the bed — he’s still missing something, so what happened next?

They ran, perhaps. Knowing himself, he thanked his savior — he must have been grateful. Sirius has always been an intense person — he was looking at him, smirking—

The voice, soft and deadly like a poison, comes back to him at once.

“Oh, I know exactly what prize I'm getting out of it.”

And then Remus blushes despite himself, because Sirius had caged him against a nearby wall and kissed him, and he let him, and he liked it—

And then he wasn’t holding his wand anymore, and Sirius had apparated them away, and Remus must have passed out at some point because he doesn’t remember anything beyond, well. Beyond being kissed and kidnapped, apparently.

“Shit,” he swears out loud in the silent room; as if to answer, the door opens to let Sirius in.

He’s still absurdly (and unfairly) handsome, smiling almost softly at him while holding a tray of delicious looking breakfast food.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, satisfied. The tray goes on a bed, just beside Remus, but he doesn’t dare touch it; Sirius almost scoffs at his hesitance. “It’s not poisoned.”

“Where am I?” he asks instead of keeping up with this line of discussion.

“Home,” answers Sirius simply — as if it is this simple.

“Why?”

“Why what? You should eat, you’re skinny.”

“Why am I here?” He tries not to feel flustered by the attention, he does, but Remus is probably just doomed on that front.

“Ah.” Sirius is looking at him, still so intense it almost makes Remus shiver. “This.” He hums a bit, and then grins, wide and smug and proud and a bit concerning at the corners, too. “Well, see, I was always wondering how it was to have a pet werewolf — for some reasons, James didn’t seem happy when we talked about it that one time.”

… It does actually explain the bit of overprotectiveness James sometimes has.

“But,” continues Sirius, suddenly much closer to him, and Remus backs off as far as he can, up until he’s pressed against the wall and wishing the bed to be larger. “I specifically wanted it to be you.”

“I’m not a pet,” he dumbly mutters, and Sirius laughs.

“Maybe not. Let’s settle on boyfriend for now, then.”

A noise comes out of Remus’ throat, surprised and confused and a million other complicated emotions he can’t parse through yet, because Sirius is already on him and kissing him again. He’s everywhere, lips on his lips and tongue in his mouth and hands on his hips and in his hair, tugging and caressing and holding him, and Remus is frozen in place and unable to do anything.

And as suddenly as he was there, Sirius is gone; he’s back on his feet, almost at the door still wide open’ eyes shining in satisfaction.

“Eat up now, darling.”

The door silently closes behind him.

Remus is royally fucked.

[thebigqueer]

"The Beauty within the Beast" - Theyna - One-Shot

Summary: theyna snippet from my arcane au series. thalia, resident of the undercity, and reyna, resident of piltover, discuss their differences and begin to at least confront their attraction to each other. TW: Underage drinking & alcoholism. Notes: to learn more about my arcane au snippets check out the series description here. Word Count: 6014 Read on AO3

Thalia has to admit, for a Topsider, Reyna knows how to party. 

Of course, it did take a bit for her to get comfortable. Thalia had to forcibly swallow a drink down just to show her that they were not, in fact, poisonous. But once Reyna got over her initial doubts, she was completely transformed. Thalia didn’t know she had an ounce of fun in her until she was the one inviting Thalia to dance with her.

It’s been kind of nice, seeing this other side of her. Usually she’s all business, with her “We need to find a way to investigate the source of the shimmer shipments” this and “It just doesn’t make sense for something like this to go unnoticed” that. Thalia’s gotten to enjoy seeing the furrow in her eyebrows every time she tried to get a rise out of Reyna. But after tonight, seeing her true smile as she soaked in all the music, or hearing her deep, rolling laugh any time Thalia said something that probably wasn’t even that funny… Thalia’s starting to like these other parts, too. The parts of her that she’s letting Thalia see. 

Thalia knows she’s purposefully being vulnerable. She’s refraining from shaking Reyna’s shoulders and screaming in her face that Thalia is not the person she should be doing this with. But it makes things better for Thalia, because now she’ll have an easier time completing her part of the mission. 

It’s kind of a shame, though. Because Thalia knows that if Reyna found out the truth, she might never get to hear that laugh again. 

Now they’re back home, getting ready for bed in Thalia’s room. Reyna is gently undoing her braids in the mirror, hissing every now and then. As each lock comes undone, it flashes in the light and swings gently for a few seconds, then settles down against Reyna’s back. It takes all of Thalia’s willpower to not just go and touch it, just to see if it’s really as soft as it looks.

“You know,” Reyna says, catching Thalia’s eyes in the mirror, “I still don’t understand the point of going out tonight. I thought you had some plan to further the investigation, but I don’t think we actually did much investigating.” 

Thalia scoffs and throws on a new T-shirt, if only to try to distract herself from Reyna’s penetrating gaze. “You know, Princess, sometimes people just like to have fun. You looked like you could use some.” Thalia raises a brow. “But I'm not hearing a ‘thank you’ anywhere.” 

Reyna rolls her eyes, but a smirk she tries - and fails - to hold back appears against her lips. “Okay. Thank you.” 

Thalia’s eyebrows jump in surprise. She wasn’t actually expecting Reyna to say anything; she was mostly joking, anyway. But there’s a softness in Reyna’s dark eyes, a sort of flush to her skin, and for some reason Thalia feels touched by her gratefulness. 

Wow, she thinks to herself. A Topsider shows even an ounce of respect, and suddenly I’m on my knees for her? Could I get any lower? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Reyna. 

Thalia blinks. “Like what?”

“Like… you’re trying to drill a hole into my brain.”

Thalia shrugs and climbs onto her bed, throwing on the barest smirk. “Just thinking about how pretty your hair looks down,” she lies. 

Reyna’s eyes widen in surprise. But when she looks at Thalia’s face and finds the amusement in her features, she rolls her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Thalia laughs and lets herself sprawl out on the bed. “Now that you’ve had a taste of the Undercity, tell me - are we better at partying or what?”

Reyna shrugs. “I’m not really sure. I didn’t go out much on Topside.” 

“Really? Why’s that?”

Reyna hesitates. She meets Thalia’s eyes, and after a beat of silence, she turns around and leans against the wall. “Let’s just say I’ve been a bit… preoccupied.” 

Thalia sits up, her interest piqued. A part of her is surprised; she didn’t really expect anything from Reyna. Maybe just a nonchalant wave of her hand and joking admittance of the fact that maybe the Undercity did have good parties. Or maybe scoffing that her life was none of Thalia’s business. But the fact she even mentioned that slightest tidbit about herself… it heats Thalia’s chest. 

“How come?” Thalia asks. She knows it’s a long shot to question her further, but it’s better than nothing. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Reyna responds, but the way her dark eyes glaze over, turn almost abysmal, Thalia has a feeling it’s more than just a story. 

So Thalia pats the space next to her. “I’ve got time.” 

Whatever it takes to get leverage.

A beat of silence passes as Reyna glances over at the empty space next to Thalia. Thalia half expects her to pass her up, tell her that it’s none of her business and slam the door behind her. Not that Thalia would blame her - she’s asking a lot right now. If it were Reyna asking her, she would say the same thing and probably even worse.

But instead, Reyna only shrugs and sits down precariously in the empty space on the bed. She watches Thalia warily for a few seconds, and when Thalia doesn’t bite her, she seems to ease in a bit more. And then, to Thalia’s surprise - and maybe delight - she lies down. They’re so close, the subtle scent of the party tickles Thalia’s nose - not the bad scents, but the good ones, like the tangy scent of her sweat, or the sweetness of her perfume. Reyna’s gaze travels up to the ceiling, and Thalia follows and sees the cracks on the ceiling, just barely holding the roof above their heads.

“Let me ask you something,” Reyna murmurs, now turning her eyes on Thalia. “Did it hurt when Jason left you?”

Thalia snorts. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t think many of us are particularly intent on making things easy for Jason at the moment. Especially not Leo.” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t either.” Reyna sighs. “I haven’t.” 

Thalia eyebrows rise in confusion. “You… haven’t forgiven Jason? Uh, I don’t think you guys even knew each other until he left for Topside.” 

Reyna rolls her eyes. “No, I meant… I’ve been in a similar position as you.” She hugs her arms against her chest and looks at her feet, which dange off the edge of Thalia’s bed. “I haven’t always lived on Topside, you know.” 

“So… what? You’re from the Undercity, too?” 

“Not really.” Reyna turns to meet Thalia’s eyes, and Thalia’s shocked to find them sizzling with guilt. “My family was part of a house in Noxus, so I guess I’ve always lived in comfort, sort of.” 

Thalia offers a nod as she takes in this information. She lets her gaze trail over Reyna’s face, over those arched eyebrows, hardened over the years with constant frowning, and those gorgeous cheekbones, high and mighty over her face. “Huh,” she murmurs. “I never really expected you to be from there. You seem Piltover through and through.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess I can see it, now that you mention it, considering how bossy you are. But you don’t strike me as a bully. You seem… composed, I guess. I feel like you can really hold yourself back.”

“Are you saying you don’t think Noxians can?”

“Well, I’ve never met one until you, so I wouldn’t really know. But from what I’ve heard of them, they’re pretty brutal.” 

Reyna raises an eyebrow. “Not everything you hear is always correct.” 

Thalia gestures for Reyna to continue. “How’d you get to Piltover then?”

Reyna’s expression crumbles from scrutinizing to desolate within seconds. Her chin quivers as she takes in a deep breath, and Thalia can’t help but to get the feeling she should be guarding herself for whatever bullets Reyna plans to shoot her way.

“Let’s just say I did something I shouldn’t have.” Reyna’s gaze burns a hole through Thalia’s bedsheet, and she’s convinced it might just start smoking any second. “My sister and I ran away to Piltover. To make a new life here.” 

Thalia frowns. “How’d you manage to survive here? I mean, did you guys even come with anything”

Reyna shakes her head. “One of our uncles moved here a little while back. My sister thought we’d have the best shot here, so that’s why we came.” Then Reyna looks down the bed, her gaze hardening. “That’s what she told me, at least. Until she left me.” 

A cold, tingling sensation erupts in Thalia’s chest, and her eyes widen. “She left you?”

Reyna nods, swallowing nervously. “We stayed with our uncle for a bit, but I could tell my sister didn’t like it. She kept telling me it reminded her too much of home, of feeling like she wasn’t doing enough, wasn’t living enough.” Reyna shrugs. “We got the opportunity to work with Enforcers because of him, since he was an Enforcer. But we only got small positions - desk jobs, really - because we were so new to Piltover and he wanted to keep an eye on us. My sister hated it, though. Said she felt like she was right back home, with people watching her every move, expecting her to be on her utmost behavior.” Reyna’s brows furrow into a frown. “But I think the last straw was when she visited the Undercity for the first time.” 

“What do you mean?”

“When she returned, she… told me she found a chance to get a better life.” Reyna shrugs. “She said she met a man that might be able to help her get out of Piltover. I asked if I could come, but she said no - said it was too risky. I asked her why she was considering it at all, and she said because she was tired of living under everyone’s rule. She was captivated by the Undercity, by everything you all stood for.” Reyna’s jaw trembles, and then she latches onto Thalia’s gaze, and suddenly all Thalia can feel is guilt piercing her through the chest. 

“She said she’d come back to me,” Reyna mutters, her eyes shining. “She promised.” 

Reyna’s desperation takes Thalia by surprise. Not because she wouldn’t react the same, but rather because she’s surprised Reyna is even allowing herself to display these emotions in front of Thalia. Reyna sounds almost like a child whining, and maybe that’s what makes Thalia concerned. The fact she’s even bending so low in front of her. 

“How old were you two when you ran away?” Thalia asks softly.

Reyna shrugs. “I don’t know. I must’ve been, like, twelve. She was almost eighteen, maybe.” 

Thalia nods, considering. “Young.” 

“I guess.” Reyna tilts her head at Thalia. “So, I get it, you know. Feeling betrayed by Jason. I understand the pain you must have felt. My sister did the same.”

Thalia stares at her for a moment. Even though Reyna’s watching her, she gets the sense that Reyna isn’t really here - her eyes flicker around, and Thalia can only assume she’s reliving every one of those moments she brought up. 

Thalia wants to say that was a bitchy move on her sister’s part. Because it was, really. Leaving your younger sister behind in a foreign place? Knowing how young she was? But if Thalia were to say that, she would just be a hypocrite. How much hasn’t she told Jason, or even Leo and Piper? How much is she hiding from them? And isn’t it for the same reason - just to try to get them all a more comfortable life?

Reyna frowns at her, then taps the space between Thalia’s eyebrows gently. “I can see the gears turning in your head. What do you have to say?”

Thalia swats Reyna’s finger away and scowls at her, but it’s all a show. She wants to feel more of the warmth underneath her skin, wants to see just how much closer her and Reyna can get.

She doesn’t, though. She shouldn’t.

“I can’t say what your sister did was good by any means,” Thalia says. “You deserved some sort of clarification, or conclusion, or something. You didn’t deserve to be left in the dark.” 

“But…?”

“But… I don’t completely blame her.” Thalia winces at Reyna’s astonished face. “I know that sounds bad. But the thing is… Respectfully, you don’t really know what it’s like having so many people look up to you.” Her mind stings with the memory of bright blue eyes, cracked by horror and fear. She sighs. “They all stare at you with their eager faces because you’ve always been the one to lead them, and you know without a doubt that they’ll do whatever it is that you tell them to. And do that enough times, you start to want to protect them. Even when you don’t think you want to, you do.” Thalia turns to look at Reyna. “She was wrong for not telling you about her plans, and for leaving you alone. But I don’t think she was doing it out of the evilness in her heart, Reyna. I think she just thought she was doing the right thing. She made a bad decision, but at seventeen? That’s a lot of responsibility for a girl that age. You’re not really a kid, not really an adult, but still stuck somewhere in between. Everyone expects you to know what you’re doing, and you don’t. Maybe that’s what happened with her. Maybe she thought she figured it out.” 

Reyna’s eyebrows knit at the center, furrowing so cutely Thalia’s almost tempted to reach out and kiss the space between them. But when she doesn’t say anything, Thalia narrows her eyes at her. “You look like you want to say something.” 

Reyna’s bottom lip trembles as she figures out what to say. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Just… When she first left, I guess I thought it might have had something to do with me. Maybe I’d stressed her out enough, or maybe she was done. Maybe I’d fucked up my chances with the one person who had my back the entire time.” Reyna shakes her head. “And now, hearing everything you just said, I get this weird feeling that I was right. That I was always too much for her.” 

Shame burns through Thalia’s chest, and she shakes her head vigorously at Reyna. “Wait… that’s not what I meant.” 

Reyna’s dark eyes harden into blades. “Then what did you mean?”

“I didn’t mean that you were her issue. I’m saying that I think… I just think maybe she thought she could do it on her own. Maybe she thought she could fix everything.” Thalia shrugs and winces. “But I’m not her. I’ve never met her. I don’t know for sure.”

Thalia expected that to help, maybe to clear her name. Instead, Reyna’s eyes only narrow further and she pulls herself up on one arm, her head blocking the light from above her and turning her into a silhouette. Thalia would love to admire the way her brown hair glints under the light if she didn’t look so deadly. 

“I don’t know why I bothered talking about it,” Reyna mutters, closing her eyes. “I guess it’s not even your business.” 

Shame burns Thalia’s chest. She doesn’t know why she cares so much; it’s not like they’re even that close, and Reyna had every choice not to tell her anything. Thalia knows maybe she’s expecting more sympathy, but all she can pull out is, “Sorry for not knowing the real reason behind everything some girl I don’t even know did, I guess?”

This must be the final straw for Reyna, because her eyes spring open, flames throwing left and right off them, and a tinge of pink blooms across her cheeks. Thalia immediately regrets saying that as Reyna throws herself into a sitting position and stares down at Thalia.

“Fuck you,” she spits. Her words make the bed underneath them shake, an earthquake rumbling from her very mouth, and Thalia has to fight not to fall off her own bed. 

Reyna starts to storm off, but - for some reason she’ll never understand - Thalia lunges out and grips her wrist fast, before she can slip away. She pushes all the sympathy she can into her eyes as she stares up at her. 

“Wait,” Thalia sighs. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have said it like that.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

“I’m sorry,” Thalia says again, and the words sound like cotton on her tongue - big, fluffy, leaving a strange, sticky aftertaste behind. “I- I know it’s hard, when someone you thought you could trust leaves. I get that.” 

Reyna raises a brow. 

Thalia rolls onto her back again, her eyes trained on the ceiling above her. They travel over the cracks - some there since she first moved in, some she’s sure appeared over the years. Each one probably with its own story. 

She knows she’s risking a lot by even telling Reyna anything about her. Who knows - maybe Reyna’s even investigating on her. But something in her convinces her to share something - Reyna wouldn’t have told her this much if she didn’t trust her to some extent, and that’s what this is about, right? Making sure Reyna trusts Thalia? 

“When me and Jason were younger,” Thalia murmurs, trailing her gaze over one of the cracks, “our dad left us. He said he didn’t want to deal with our mom.” 

Reyna is quiet for a moment, and Thalia can almost hear Reyna’s hesitation - should she stay or go? But then the bed creaks as she leans her weight back down against the mattress, and Thalia’s heart begins beating again. “What happened to your mom?”

“She was a drinker.” When Thalia sees the concern drawing on Reyna’s eyebrows, she shrugs. “Yeah. Don’t know why he thought he couldn’t take us with him, but you know… parents, I guess. I always had a feeling he wasn’t only talking about our mom.” Thalia’s throat aches at the memory of her father, his tall, broad, suited figure storming out the doorway, his rage trailing after him, crawling along the floors of their home. “Anyway, Jason and I just had to survive on our own, I guess. But he was so young when my father left. Seven, maybe. I was nine.”

Thalia tries not to let any sort of emotion slip into her voice, tries not to let Reyna worry, but it clearly doesn’t work because her voice cripples against her lips and Reyna’s brows contort into sympathy. So she clears her throat. “Our mother wasn’t all bad,” she continues. “She would play with us when she had the time, coming home from work. She’d read to us, or if she couldn’t find our favorite books she’d tell us stories about the time she was our age. But that wasn’t often, and usually it was just me and Jason against the world.”

Reyna’s eyes glint with an invitation to continue.

“So, yeah, that’s basically what it was like. All me and Jason had was each other, and I felt bad, knowing he had no one proper to look up to. I tried to be there for him in the ways I could. I mean, he was basically my responsibility at that point.” Thalia’s eyes burn, and she’s fighting hard to keep her voice under control. “But it became a little too real when he really didn’t have anyone else to look up to.”

“What happened?” Reyna asks. 

“Well…” Thalia sighs. “He found our mother dead in a bathtub.” 

Reyna sucks in a breath.

“Yeah,” Thalia murmurs. Her thoughts barrel into that moment, the sight of her mother’s gaping mouth and her motionless body, sinking into the now-gray water of the bathtub. Jason’s face rapidly crumbling into the same ashy color as the water, his eyes unable to leave their mother’s naked body. All Thalia remembers is thinking, How humiliating does it have to feel to have your kids find you naked and alone in your bathtub? 

“What about you?” Reyna asks. “What were you doing?”

“Well, I stared for a few moments.” Thalia sucks on her lip. “And then I ran away.” 

It wasn’t her proudest moment, but she didn’t really know what else to do. She’d just found her mother dead. It was one thing to be taking care of Jason - it was another to be his one and only guardian from now on. But really, it wasn’t even the fact that she’d seen her mother dead that drove her away. No, instead, it was the way Jason’s eyes dilated, his pupils sucking every particle of light in that dingy, shadowed bathroom, as he stared at Thalia in disbelief. And it was at that moment, with him looking up at her, his lips trembling in unleashed emotions, that it dawned on her: they were truly, utterly alone. 

Maybe she should have rushed to him and hugged him. Maybe she should have consoled him, knowing he was the one who found her. Maybe she should have just grabbed his wrist and walked out and decided never to look back again. 

But in that second, with Jason looking at her with his eyes cracked into millions of shards, all Thalia could think about was how they glimmered just like the broken wine bottles on the ground next to the bathtub. Next to their mother’s useless corpse.

And then she ran. 

She could hear Jason’s cries for her, his shrill voice cracking against the walls as she rushed down the hall, slammed the door shut, stumbled down the stairs. But she didn’t go back. She ignored him.

Thalia didn’t come back for three days. She spent the first two nights wandering through the Night Market, stealing food to keep her stomach from eating itself, finishing off left over bottles of wine on the road, throwing them onto the ground when she was done just to see them crack and shatter and explode into millions of pieces, trying not to think about how they looked embedded into her mother’s hand. 

The irony didn’t pass her. Drinking to forget about her problems, just like her mother. And the thought disgusted her, but even then, she couldn’t help thinking maybe her mother had a point. Forgetting was a much better use of her time than remembering everything behind her. 

Of course all she thought about was Jason. His wide blue eyes, staring at her in astonishment and grief as he held his mother’s limp wrist in his palm. The ashen tone of his skin, glowing like moonlight even in the darkness of the bedroom. The trembling of his mouth as he tried to form words. All she could think about as she chugged the next bottle of booze was Jason, sitting alone in that bathroom, crying for her, realizing that he truly had no one left to take care of  him. 

But Thalia couldn’t find the courage in herself to get up, to go back to that house and face the future ahead of her. Maybe Thalia should have been thinking more about how Jason was feeling. But her mother didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to have Thalia clean up all her shit for her. If she never gave Thalia anything, why should Thalia? 

Then things changed on the morning of the third day. She woke up in a house she’d never been in, with her head pounding and her tongue dry and the scent of burnt toast wafting all around her. And, in front of her, two older women, eyes brimming with pity.

That was how she’d met Emmie and Jo, as humiliating as it was. Hungover out of her mind at twelve years old, stumbling away from a responsibility she didn’t want, haunted by the eyes of a brother who didn’t deserve it either. It took a while, but eventually she warmed up to Emmie and Jo, and despite how much she despised their pity, she took in their offer for her and Jason to live with them, because what better choice did she have? It was one thing for her to live on the streets - Jason wasn’t even ten. He couldn’t survive on his own if he tried. 

“Wow,” Reyna mutters, and Thalia’s gaze flicks to hers, her heart tripping in surprise. She forgot she was even here. “That’s… really terrible. I’m sorry, Thalia.” 

Thalia shrugs, mostly because she’s not really sure how else to respond. “Yeah, I guess. But that’s what I’m talking about… sometimes, when you know someone really depends on you for something, it just… makes you want to go away more.” Her chest floods with dread at the memory of Jason’s eyes, brimming with terror at the sight before him, turning to her expectantly. “Especially when that much responsibility falls on you.” 

Reyna lets out a deep breath. “But you were twelve. That’s a lot for a kid. My sister was seventeen.” 

Thalia raises a brow at Reyna. “You don’t think seventeen is young?”

“Not that young.” 

“I don’t think a feeling like that has an age limit.” Thalia shrugs. “I’m not saying you can’t be mad at her. I’m just saying, I don’t think it was anything you did. Just… maybe the circumstances.” 

Reyna continues watching her for a moment, then tips her chin high and points her eyes down, as if even now, lying down next to each other, she’s trying to look down at Thalia. “I guess I’m just surprised.” 

“About what?” Thalia props her head against her right hand, holding herself higher over Reyna, and smirks. “Surprised I have a heart?”

“Surprised you’ve told me this much about you.” 

Thalia raises a brow. “You’re the one going soft on me, Princess.”

Reyna frowns again, and this time her nose crinkles, too. Thalia pretends not to notice the skip in her heartbeat at the sight of it. “Why do you call me Princess?” she asks.

“Good question.” Thalia reaches out to twirl a lock of hair that’s fallen over Reyna’s face. She pulls it towards her and wraps it around her finger, admiring how it shines even in the limited light around them. “The first thing I noticed about you was your long hair,” she murmurs. “I’ve never seen something so shiny before. It made me think of a princess.” 

Reyna rolls her eyes, but even in the flickering lights, Thalia can see a subtle pink inking through her cheeks. “Stupid nickname.”

“You don’t look like you find it all that stupid.” 

Reyna rolls her eyes, but Thalia decides that by her lack of response she’s won.

“Okay,” Thalia says. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question. Why did you tell me all that stuff about you and your sister?”

Reyna’s eyebrows scrunch in consideration. After a long pause, she takes Thalia’s right hand and holds it between her palms, and Thalia hopes beyond hope that Reyna doesn’t see the blush on her face. 

“I know that maybe we both come from… really different places,” she says, her eyes oozing with sincerity. “You have every right not to trust me. But being down here… I’ve started to see just how much Topside has screwed you over. How they’ve treated you. And I guess now I understand why you all hate us so much.” Reyna tilts her head, and Thalia’s eyes follow the strand of long hair that falls over her face. It’s the same strand, too. “But you and I aren’t so different. We come from really different backgrounds, but I want you to know you can trust me.” 

Thalia’s chest rings with guilt at Reyna’s words. She hates the way her palm stings under her genuine touch, hates the way her voice burns Thalia’s skin. She feels trapped under lava, being scorched alive with no one to help her out. 

She hates Reyna’s sincerity, because she knows she can’t offer the same. 

There’s a spark of optimism in Reyna’s eyes - not too much, but it’s definitely there, and it makes Thalia’s chest ache. She knows that part of Reyna’s vulnerability must come from the drinks, and maybe that’s even the reason Thalia decided to spill her own guts, but she knows there’s something deeper there, too. If there’s anything Thalia’s learned about Reyna these past few days, it’s that she doesn’t just trust people easily - she takes her time investigating. If Reyna is saying all this now, Thalia knows she’s in for shit when, eventually, she’ll have to break Reyna’s trust. 

Thalia opens her mouth to retort something stupid, like “We’re nothing alike” or “Don’t pretend you know me.” But watching Reyna, with her brown eyes swimming with sincerity and nervousness, Thalia refrains. Isn’t the point to make her trust you? she tries to tell herself. Why risk that trust by trying to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear?

Is that really why you want her to trust you? some other voice asks her, and she has to close her eyes to ignore the thought.

After a few beats of silence, Thalia just exhales and trails a finger through Reyna’s hair. It feels like a gentle river through her fingers - soft, delicate, like cool air swimming past her knuckles. Thalia locks eyes with Reyna and says, “Don’t sell yourself short, Princess. You don’t want to be like me.” 

Reyna’s brows scrunch in confused frustration, but she chooses wisely not to say anything. Instead, she pulls herself closer and brushes a hand against Thalia’s face. Thalia’s breath hitches at her touch. “It’s sad that so many people see themselves as monsters,” she says, “and that the true monsters only see themselves as the hero.” 

Thalia traces her thumb against Reyna’s jaw, down her chin, against her lips. “You’ve never seen yourself as a monster?”

Reyna tilts her head closer, and her eyes drift towards Thalia’s lips. “What do you think got me to Piltover to begin with?”

Thalia lets a beat of silence pass. Just to make sure Reyna knows what she’s doing, to make sure she knows she can run away now if she wants.

But she doesn’t. 

So Thalia leans in and kisses her. 

It’s nothing like any kiss she’s had before. Most of them have been quick, pointless - little displays of urgent passion, but nothing more than that. They never mattered. 

But this… this matters. Like it needs to go as perfect as possible, otherwise Thalia risks everything - her life, her future, her family. She’s teetering on the edge, and this is the only thing that can save her from falling over. 

Maybe it’s because every move with Reyna has to be calculated, if Thalia wants to get her share of the fortune. She can’t risk something looking too cheap, too fake, too lackluster - she needs Reyna to think she’s the real deal, or else…

Or else what? she thinks. I risk losing some money? Why does it matter?

But Thalia knows why it matters. Because if she fucks up this job, she risks everything. She’s never even met the man behind all her missions, but she already knows he has the power to uproot her life straight from the source.

She’s built too much for the people she loves. She can’t let it all burn down, especially now that Jason’s back. 

Reyna tugs Thalia’s waist, trying to pull her closer - so Thalia edges away. That’s the smart thing to do, she tries to tell herself. Let Reyna know she’s wanted, but not too much. Let her in only enough.

If Reyna feels anything about this, she’s good at hiding it. In fact, maybe Thalia might be the most hurt by this - she’s the one trying to pull away, and yet Reyna doesn’t even care. Is it possible that she’s playing the same game that I am? 

Thalia supposes she can’t put it past her. That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing she’d do, but Thalia also doesn’t know her well enough to make a judgment. Maybe Reyna’s a phenomenal actress. 

And maybe it’s a sign there’s nowhere for them to go from here. Just something they can throw away at the end of this investigation. Something with no strings, because that way it would be harder for them to get tangled. Thalia knows neither of them could afford that.

Reyna tries to say something, but it seems to get caught in her throat. Thalia just watches her, waiting for the moment she can pull it out. 

“I had fun tonight,” she finally says. But her eyes are vacant, and her mouth is in a straight line, and Thalia has no idea whether to truly believe her. 

Thalia tries on a smile. “Me too.”

A million thoughts seem to be soaring across Reyna’s eyes, but her mouth remains firm, and Thalia decides it’s not worth trying to catch any of those thoughts. She and Reyna just watch each other, peering through the layers of secrets between them. 

“You can stay in my room tonight,” Thalia whispers, brushing a finger through Reyna’s hair. She’s not sure why she’s doing this - why offer her another night, another inch of her? She could easily let the moment pass and let Reyna go back to her place in the basement. But Thalia’s beginning to enjoy the heat of another body with her; it’s been too long since the last time she’s been this physically close to someone. She’s been starved. 

Still, Reyna’s expression remains blank. She’s staring at Thalia with her large, round eyes, sucking up her entire essence, and Thalia has no choice but to let her. “Okay” is all she says. 

“You can leave if you—” 

“No.” Reyna takes a deep breath. “If you mind, I can leave. But I don’t mind.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Then I don’t, either.” 

“Great.” 

“Great.” 

Thalia hesitates, then decides to brush another strand of Reyna’s hair. She doesn’t know if that’s too much, but Reyna ends up leaning into the touch, tilting her head to make it easier, and Thalia has to fight the urge to smile. Her hair feels like silk under her fingertips, cool and soft, with the faint scent of apples lingering over it. Thalia almost wants to bury her face into it and smell it forever. 

“I wasn’t kidding,” Thalia says. “You really are as gorgeous as a princess.” 

“No need to flatter me.” But now Reyna’s smiling. 

Thalia rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”

“What? That you’re as beautiful as a princess?” Reyna raises an eyebrow at her. “You seem like the kind of person who’d start beating me up if I said that.” 

“Sure, if it were anyone else,” Thalia says. She wants to add Not you, though, but she knows it would make her sound too cheesy. 

“Okay, but that’s too cliché for my taste.” 

“Fine. What would you say instead?”

Reyna runs her eyes over Thalia’s face, and it feels like her skin is being turned inside out. She simply stares at Thalia, eyes burning with thoughts, and Thalia just wishes she could reach inside her brain and read whatever it is she’s thinking. But she can’t, so she just watches Reyna watch her, wishing they weren’t stuck here in this strange, unspoken void. 

Reyna reaches out and brushes her fingertips over Thalia’s face, and Thalia feels like she’s just discovered what touch feels like for the first time. Then Reyna smiles a slow smile, one that melts over her warm skin and turns the space between them into soft, watery sunlight, and Thalia can do nothing but bask in her warmth, wishing she could be underneath it for eternity.

Then, just as Thalia’s thinking about kissing her again, Reyna turns around. And suddenly all the sunlight shuts off. 

Typical Topsider, thinks Thalia, trying hard to keep her hands to herself. Taunting me when they know they have me.

As if she can hear Thalia’s thoughts, Reyna lets out a small laugh. “I’ll let you know when I think of something that fits you.”

[artist-of-dawn]

So High School

Chapter 2: "Tangerine? TANGERINE"

Next: "Holy arms"

Masterlist

a/n: fun facts apparently turned into confessionals and free rent living in each character's head

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

"So? Whaddaya say?" Samu raises his head and asks with a little smirk.

"I say you better tell me why you look seconds away from plotting a murder. Most probably mine. Is this poisoned?" I gestured towards the last piece of strawberry mochi left on the plate.

"Ya ask that after the 7th piece?" I shrugged.

"It's really good. I say you should go for it." He nodded and left most probably to greet some customers while I fell deep in thought.

Nostalgia has been a lot more present in the last few days, and it got to me. I can't say that I miss home physically, but the warmth and radiance it brough. We've all made great memories here, but I cannot help but feel like something's missing.

I am usually not one to say I regret things I didn't do, it's a consolation price that I didn't make a fool of myself and the thought that I should be grateful for the choices I made still holds me together in some sense. But my resistance seems to slowly crumble at one tiny tiny question: if I did something-if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? Would my courage be rewarded with the warmth of a beating heart and a beaming smile, or would it be crushed by rotten delusion?

I pride myself by loving freely, but I have always been somewhat afraid of things that cross the borders of friendship, and I beileve that the only other thing that may best this fear is the slight ache for the warmth of feeling. But I'm turning 20 soon, should this be so hard? Should I still be afraid? I take a bite of the last mochi and make my way to change the music. I glance at the door and the restaurant is mostly empty. Perfect.

What could possibly fit better than "The 1" ?

°•I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I guess you never know, never know

And it's another day waking up alone

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you

If one thing had been different

Would everything be different today?•°

I rest my head on one of the counters, absorbing the meliodic melancholy of the song, up until I hear a voice simmilar to Samu's screaming from the restaurant.

"Oi! Cut off that depressive shit!" Shit. Atusmu's here.

It's not that I have anything against the guy, but he sucks a lot at flirting.

"Shaddap Tsumu!" Samu screamed back. Thank God. If that guy knew I was here, he'd never leave me alone until I left if he's in one of his macho moods. But before I could go back to fucking up Samu's playlist I heard a rich laugh.

"Come on Tsumu it was a nice song!" Even though the voice was slightly deeper I could never mistake it.

Now, I am not one to make any rash decisions, but....This is not my proudest moment. At least the brooms in the closet are pink.

Nope.

There is no way.

Last time I checked the dude was in Brazil trying out beach volleyball.

No fucking way I just saw red hair while bolting to the closet.

Nope.

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

Fun facts:

- the movie night went well, everyone was in high spirits and the atmosphere was chaotically joyful, yachi was unable to stay till and squeacked every 5 minutes, tsukishima smiled a couple of times after receiving his little dino sketch from yn, shimizu and samu exchanged some recepies and koushi insisted on self care masks while watching the film.

-yn basically screeched while running towards the nearest closet and later wondered how in the hell no one heard her. Her breath was cut short when she realised who was on the other side of the wall.

-yn always refrained of romance because she was utterly afraid of it, of the rawness and wilderness. She liked stable, quiet and melodic. But everything changed once she got into karasuno high. She secretly wished he would say something, afraid that the shine in his eyes wasn't reserved for her and was a usuality for him. Yes. She wore his jersey and rooted for him. And he looked happy.

In case you wanna listen to the whole song:

🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊🌸🍊

"I wanna find you in a crowd

Just to hide from you"

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 33

(The penultimate chapter, all fluff. If you know me, that means hold on tight for the last chapter)

Away from the muted chatter and bright lights in the great hall, Nesta was able to finally let out a breath. Her guilt hadn’t clawed its way out of her chest and announced her as Beron’s murderer. Each gaze that landed on her seemed to penetrate her soul, probing how such a powerful male had died so suddenly.

Grateful that nobody else was permitted, she lined up alongside the other Vanserras to begin the procession to the crypts. Her mother-in-law had warned her that they were cold and miserable, but Nesta was so tired that the cold might be welcomed to keep her awake. The confrontation with Cassian had left her dizzy. Everything that Eris had said had rang true. Cassian should have realised that she was vulnerable and not in a place to embark on a relationship. Mother above, she’d been shut in that damn house for sleeping with males, but when the male had been selected by the inner circle, it was permitted? Despite the awfulness of the whole interaction, it had cemented one thing in Nesta’s mind: nobody had ever loved her like Eris did. Nobody was ever so quick, so ready to defend her. He was her sword and shield.  I would rather see my court fall to ruin and ash than ever see Nesta forced to be your mate. A tremendous declaration from a husband who meant it.

She spotted Orla amongst the crowd, a hand resting on Lucien’s shoulder while Niamh regaled them both with an animated tale. There was no sign of the Night Court now. Indeed, all the other courts had dispersed back to their homes which was a relief. Not only had the Night Court’s attention been insufferable, but even Helion had stared constantly, not solely to Nesta but Eliška too. The only stragglers still remaining were courtiers or friends who lived closest to the Forest House. Lucien peeled away from the sisters to join his family. That was a strange moment that Nesta never thought she’d see; neither did she expect to be part of that family. It couldn’t be easy for him to be there. Had the last time been when Jesminda’s life had ended?

The sons filtered either side of Beron’s body, lifting it with ease, under the sombre eyes of the court then they leading the way to the crypts.

Nesta sought out Eliška’s hand again, offering what little support she could. Her emotions had been like waves last night, undulating between despair, euphoria, relief, and emptiness. She’d wept for a husband who had tried to be kind at the beginning, but his own father’s cruelty had seeped in, changing him into the high lord that Prythian knew, so he hurt her, hurt their children because he didn't know how to be anything else. She had told Nesta stories that she doubted even Eris knew – ones she wouldn’t share with her husband – about Beron. About the volatile temper. The bullying. Trying to bond in her garden, but failing. The wars of their sons. She would heal. They would all heal.

The path to the crypts that existed deep beneath the Forest House was made of grey, twisting stone. Only family were permitted within for the procession; Beron’s tomb had already been prepared that morning by servants and priestesses. Nesta had to wonder if the whole court had been glad to be rid of him like a flea irritating the skin. A canal split the crypt down the middle. The faint trickle of water could be heard, flowing elsewhere. Sconces had been lit along the wall, casting flickering yellow light along their path.

‘Shall we just toss him in here? Nobody else would know.’

‘Eris,’ chided Eliška – though Xander and Lucien were fighting back grins.

Phelan let out a snort. ‘That’s not fair on the fish. You’ll poison them.’

There was no love for Beron. That became apparent very quickly. None of them held onto the male with much care, particularly when they bumped him against the worn stone wall.

Lucien asked, ‘How did happen?’

Everyone present said a different answer at the same time.

‘An enemy.’

‘Poison.’

‘His reflection.’

‘Fire.’

‘A witch.’

‘Bored him to death.’

Lucien raised his brows then said, ‘I see.’

And the matter was closed. Nesta did not know why the brothers were loyal to her and Eris. Eris had cut Phelan’s damn hand off. It was another item to quiz Eris about whenever she finally had her husband to herself.

The males positioned Beron over the mouth of the tomb, lowering him down. Uther knocked Beron’s head against the stone again, making Lucien snort, then Phelan dropped his legs unceremoniously with a shrug. Then, all four males, broke into nervous, uncertain laughter. The lady of the court touched a pale hand to her forehead, shaking her head slightly.

‘Thank the Mother that’s over with,’ said Eris brightly, rubbing his hands together. ‘Rest in peace Beron Vanserra, you vile piece of shit.’

He squeezed Nesta on the shoulder but put his arm around his mother, guiding her along the pathway towards the entrance, keen to remove her from the crypts. Nesta hung back a step to walk beside Lucien. He extended his arm for her to hold onto. She murmured, ‘Are you all right?’

Lucien gave a tight nod, so Nesta stroked against his hand with her free one. ‘I’m sorry, Lucien.’

Enjoying the role of high lord, Eris demanded a spread of food be brought to their rooms along with a spare bed for his mother to sleep in. It was only late afternoon, but all of them had been up throughout the previous night; Nesta and Eris had a lack of sleep the night before that too at Orla’s.

‘You don’t need to keep me in here, Eris,’ his mother said, after the servants had managed to wedge a bed into the lounge. ‘I’m quite well alone.’

‘Maybe I want my mother near me until I know exactly who to trust in this place. Maybe I need support in poaching my little brother back to our court – and who can do that better than mama.’

The other brothers had skulked away to their quarters with the exception of Lucien who squatted awkwardly in the corner, getting bothered by smokehounds. ‘You only call her that when you want something.’

‘I want my brother to move home,’ Eris replied simply. ‘You don’t suit black.’

Nesta held Cotton-tail aloft, out of the dogs’ jaws. He munched on a leaf of lettuce plucked from the spread of food, tucked into the crook of her elbow. The cake that she’d had her eye on in the hall had been delivered to their rooms. Without needing to ask, Eris had caught where her gaze landed then cut a massive slice for her.

‘I should probably have something savoury first.’

‘As your high lord, I command you to eat the cake.’

Oh, he was going to enjoy holding that over her head at every opportunity.

‘He’s going to be insufferable now,’ said Lucien.

‘He already was,’ she replied, making her mother-in-law laugh.

It was nice to eat together without the shadow of Beron looming over them. It had not yet been a day since the male had died but already the court felt lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from its chest. If Eris was burdened by his new title, he did not show it. The male lounged in a chair, feet reaching across the gap into Nesta’s lap, precariously close to Cotton-tail’s teeth. When the room was flooded with the golden evening light, Nesta left the family to enjoy each other’s company. There was so much that they needed to talk about, much they needed to catch up on. Something tentative and hesitant was blooming between the three so Nesta did not want to be a burden.

Eris caught her in the doorway, holding her wrist close to his chest. ‘You don’t have to go.’

‘You should speak altogether as a family.’

A smile had rarely left his lips since they had passed through the doors to their rooms. Nesta could not recall ever seeing Eris so light, so happy.

‘You are part of this family – I’m sorry to tell you that, if you didn’t already know. Don’t feel as if you need to leave.’

A family. The word choked her with joy. Nesta had killed his father last night. Hadn’t even stopped to think about what she was doing before her fire devoured Beron. But it had changed nothing. If anything, they seemed to love her more. A family was what she had wanted for so long. She tipped forwards towards her husband. His soft lips pressed to her temple, holding her to him for a while. 

‘I am only slightly jealous that you can sleep.’

Nesta held his drooping head up. ‘I’ll warm the bed for you.’

‘I knew I married you for a reason.’ He kissed her again. ‘See you soon, Queen of Queens.’

‘If Eris chokes on the food,’ she called over his shoulder, ‘let him suffer. Lucien, how would you like to be high lord?’

Their laughter rang out behind her as she entered the bedroom. Safera was not far behind her; the gentle hound waited for her outside of the bathroom then slunk up onto the bed in Eris’ spot.

It felt as if her head had only just grazed the pillow when Eris woke her with a heavy shuffle of footsteps across the carpet. She hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains closed so darkness still seeped through the window.

‘Sorry, my love,’ he whispered as she grumbled and turned over.

‘Did Lucien go?’

‘No. He’s on the couch. Still talking with my mother.’

With a bone-tiredness, Eris removed his clothing and let it drop into a heap on the floor rather than picking it up like he usually would.

‘I have been waiting for this moment all day.’

With no sophistication or grace whatsoever, Eris flopped face first onto the mattress. The springs groaned under his weight.

‘I am more tired than anybody in history has ever been before.’

‘That’s an exaggeration.’

A long groan rattled from his throat as he continued to lay across the mattress like a plank of wood. At first, Nesta tried to be tender as she attempted to pluck the blanket from beneath his body, but he was too damn heavy to manage it. She ended up grunting as she strained to free the quilt. ‘Mother, help me, how much cake did you eat this evening?’

‘I’m so tired.’ They were the only words he could manage.

By the time that Nesta had managed to pull the blanket from beneath Eris, he was already sleeping. He’d earned it, she supposed. In three days, he’d gone into the Prison, been wounded, saved her from her magic, been whipped, watched his father die, become high lord, and chuck his father’s body into the crypts. She now understood why people prayed for uninteresting lives.

***

The light breeching their sanctuary was an ill-omen. It meant they had to get out of bed and Eris was loathe to do it. At Nesta’s first movements where she tried to sling her legs onto the floor, he shot out his arms and hauled her back towards him. For a while, Nesta allowed it. Their legs and arms tangled around each other, eyes heavy in the hazy morning, then her bladder could take no more.

‘I’ll check on our guests,’ she said, kissing his forehead on her return to the bedroom.

Although his body might have been present, his mind was not. Eris could have slept for a week, maybe longer. The duty that he had waited his entire life for beckoned, but Eris wished it could be postponed for another day. He’d be high lord tomorrow. All he wanted today was to be Nesta’s husband and not get out of bed.

At one point, he had thought that Nesta had joined him in the bed again. Her weight could be felt on the mattress as she moved closer to him. Then a tongue swept up his neck and tried to lick his ear.

‘Safera! Off the bed.’

She leapt onto the floor with a thump.

‘You spoilt madam. Sharing a bed with a high lord.’

Begrudgingly, Eris dragged his carcass from the bed and into the next room, but only his wife remained there. He had no recollection of her dressing at all.

‘Good afternoon, high lord.’

‘It’s surely not.’

‘It is well past noon. Your first act as high lord has been to sleep the day away.’

Eris rubbed at his eyes. ‘Lucien?’

‘With mother having a ride through the forest. Yes, with guards. Yes, one of those is Ashur. She will be safe.’

He folded his arms across his bare chest. ‘Where was my invitation?’

‘One, surely a high lord has more important duties than playing with horses. Two, they waited for you to wake up to accompany them. I tried to wake you up. Even Lucien tried to wake you up. I was very close to summoning Orla because I thought you were in an enchanted sleep.’

Eris strode forwards. His hands slid around Nesta’s waist, drawing her to him. ‘In your stories a handsome prince has to kiss the princess to wake her up.’

She laughed openly in his face then, grey eyes shining. ‘Did you just refer to yourself as a princess? And me your handsome prince?’

He stepped away, massaging his temples. ‘I am so tired still.’

All of those years plotting and scheming had finally taken their toll on Eris, so now he was paying for the long nights loping through the woods where he traded places with Ashur. He’d been nearly untouchable then. He could function well enough on shards of sleep day after day.

It had not quite sunk in yet that he was the high lord of his court and that his father was dead. It was a conversation he needed to have with Nesta though not yet. All he wanted now was to cuddle beside his wife and sleep longer.

‘What now?’

Nesta’s words had been hesitant. She wrung her hands together. Her shoulders had curled inwards as if she was bracing herself to weather a storm.

He tilted his head slightly to examine his wife from her head to her toes. ‘What’s the matter, Nesta?’

‘I killed your father, Eris. Where is my punishment?’

The words burst out of her like the lightning of a sudden storm, unable to be stopped. She pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with terror because she had said it aloud.

‘My father succumbed to a sudden illness. We all saw it.’

His hands settled on the tops of her arms, steadying her. Eris reassured her that she was safe and not in any sort of peril. Nobody would be sorry to see Beron gone. None of them.

‘But your brothers. They’ll use it against us.’

Eris shook his head then touched his forehead against hers. ‘They know I am now the most powerful male in this court – with the most powerful female at my side. Saving their own skins is their priority first and foremost. If they did not swear fealty, I’d have executed them. They’ve sworn a vow and cannot harm us.’

‘You chopped off Phelan’s hand,’ she whispered, eyes still alert with terror.

‘And he learnt a lesson never to touch what isn’t his, didn’t he? Nesta, I am the eldest. Believe it or not, my father favoured me. What he did to me was only a drop of what he has inflicted upon my brothers over the centuries.’ He kissed her gently. ‘You are safe. I will always keep you safe.’

Despite having no inclination whatsoever to engage with the masses, Eris knew he must. Nesta was already in pristine condition, so he dressed to match, immobilising his fatigue for a couple of hours.

‘How do you feel about riding through a few towns and waving?’

Nesta nodded. ‘I’m probably capable of that.’

‘More than capable.’

To make her smile, Eris demonstrated different waves, each one becoming more and more ludicrous. It worked. His lovely wife rolled her eyes and shoved him towards the door, but Eris had spied that smile trying to spread across her face no matter how much she tried to hide it.

It was tedious work to wade through the mewling servants and sentries who swarmed them on their exit. Worse were the confounded courtiers whom even Beron had loathed. He only kept them around to punish them when his mood was foul enough. They were sycophants with sugar-sweet compliments and sickly smiles, but Eris was just as bad as he slipped on his own mask of charming, cunning court-trained-bastard. Without prompting, Nesta followed suit. She moved elegantly, sweeping past the bows and curtseys with the ghost of a smirk on her regal face. Mother above, she was a natural. Perhaps it was a little cruel to command the servants to ready their horses then give them the time it took to cross the house to be ready, but, like the polished and proper servants they were, two geldings were waiting in the courtyard. Nesta brushed off assistance and mounted without support as Eris did the same in unison. They were twin flames that flowed together. No male was as lucky as he.

They rode out through the forests with guards following behind at a steady distance in case any of the general public became too close for comfort. What they didn’t know was that Eris had a wife who could strike anybody down dead so the need for sentries was inconsequential.

Their horses galloped through the towering, golden forests, ushered by the crisp wind that signalled change. They made appearances in towns and even some of the larger villages that surrounded the Forest House. Many folk came out to watch and wave. They bowed low to their high lord though some eyed him warily, trying to understand what sort of male he was. History was forgotten; Beron wasn’t even the worst Vanserra to hold the seat. His grandfather had spiked the head of every male in the family onto the gates outside of the forest house except for his own son in his paranoia. Distant cousins and children did not escape his tyranny; only one male did – Beron himself, his only child. Beron did kill his own father at twenty years old though, so Eris did think his grandfather had been unlucky in that regard that his son had turned out to be just as rotten as he was. Eris’ great-grandfather had also married five times and each wife had been killed if she produced a daughter rather than a son. Nesta had really come off quite lucky, all things considered.

Eris glanced across to her. Though she said she was fine, he noticed the slight wince on her features each time the horse sped up along the path. Her legs hung like dead weights either side of the beast’s flank.

He called to the closest sentry. ‘Find the nearest tavern with decent food and scout it.’

‘High lord, it is unsafe to dine in public. No testers have come.’

‘Then you can test the food for poison for daring to question an order from your high lord,’ replied Nesta. One stern look from her had the guard digging his heels into his mare to bring her to a canter.

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

Nesta rolled her eyes once more. ‘It is so rare for you to be on my good side.’

A lonely tavern stood at a crossroads. It offered rooms for the night for wearied travellers as well as the promise of a warm meal and a hot bath. A thatched roof sagged over the cream walls and tired flowers hung in baskets beneath the many windows.

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes, my lord. Your mother and brother are present.’

Sentries took their horses and Eris forbade them from entering. There, as the guard had said, sat Lucien with a full glass of beer in his hands. An arm was slung around his mother’s shoulders. The lady herself sipped at a glass of red wine with colour blossoming in the apples of her cheeks. They were not alone. A pair of sisters had joined them at the table; Niamh drank beer while Orla opted for tea. On Niamh’s other side sat a female with beautiful, leathery wings.

‘I cannot believe you would not invite your damn high lord. I’ll have you all executed for conspiring against me.’

Eris stood at the end of the table with his hands on his hips in mock outrage.

‘I thought you were comatose in bed still.’

He grunted. ‘Just about.’

Without waiting for an invitation to join them, Eris pulled up a chair and gestured for Nesta to sit then wedged himself impossibly close to Lucien on the bench, just to see how his brother might react. Lucien, of course, took it all his stride. He poured half of his drink into an empty glass on the table then pushed it towards Eris.

‘Good. You’re here. You can foot the bill,’ said Niamh, a bright smile lighting up her face.

At Nesta’s arrival, Emerie increased the space between her and the other female, a slight blush crawling across her cheeks. Eris wasn’t bothered at all by whatever it was that was unravelling between the pair; indeed Niamh had calmed down since she had been travelling to Windhaven.  

‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ said Nesta, a true smile on her face. ‘You’re safe?’

Niamh leaned over. ‘Don’t you dare doubt me. I could take on every Illyrian and Briallyn without breaking a sweat.’

‘I remember when you ripped up all of my freshly planted bulbs when you decided that you were a witch,’ scolded his mother. How beautiful it was to see a smile trying to break its way onto her lips too, after so long being subdued.

Niamh’s mouth dropped open in outrage. A slender finger was pointed squarely at Lucien’s chest. ‘It was him too. Lucien was the naughty one. I was the silly one who followed his schemes.’

‘You two used to cause such mischief. Your mother and I had to take it in turns to tell you off because it happened so frequently, rest her soul.’

If he could, Eris would have stopped time to make the night last forever. The evening was perfect. Their bellies were filled with good food and better ale. The merriment flowed with no signs of stopping. Eris was surrounded by the people he cared most about in a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. At one point, he dragged his poor wife onto his lap despite her nervous laughter because it had been too long since he’d had his arms around her. There were teasing words from Lucien, asking whether Nesta needed assistance with removing a pest which made all of the females in attendance laugh, even his own mother.

To speed up the return journey, they winnowed, leaving the sentries to return the horses to the Forest House. There were relentless jokes at Eris’ expense over his age and whether he desperately needed to get back to bed.

‘Mother is older than me,’ he replied to Lucien as he pressed clean clothing into his hands for the night.

She pressed a hand over her chest, ‘Only by twenty years.’

Twenty years was nothing. A wife too quickly, a mother too soon. Now, at least, she might find some happiness again. Indeed, the light was returning to her russet eyes. Eris did not know how much of it was due to her husband’s passing or how much was due to her beloved son returning to her.

‘Where is my wife? She might defend me.’

From the bedroom, Nesta called, ‘I won’t.’

What wicked creatures. All of them.

Lucien would stay another night at his mother’s behest – and at Eris’, she would stay in their rooms once more. Eris was glad to have both of them back, even if he wouldn’t admit it amidst the teasing. Lucien’s absence had made their mother wilt more. She had lived in a perpetual mourning ever since that day. Eris knew their bastard of a father held it over her head constantly, promising to let him come back if she did things for him, never fulfilling his end. Nesta had solved their issues with a short, sharp blast of her power, the wonderful thing she was.

The female in question was waiting for him in bed, sprawled out across the mattress. He crawled into the sheets, inhaling the jasmine scent of her hair as he settled beside her.

‘Without lying, how badly do your legs hurt from riding?’

‘Enough.’

‘They’ll be worse tomorrow.’ Eris rose onto his knees and began massaging her calf. She tried to pull her foot away, face growing red as she hissed something about his mother being in the next room, but Eris waved it away. ‘I’m not about to ravish you. Merely trying to save you a day of stiffness.’

His thumb dug into the flesh of her calf, hard enough for her to grit her teeth. It was needed to remove all of the knots and aches from the muscle. Her riding today had been impeccable. It was the most she had ever managed – not that she would have complained or asked to stop. She was the Autumn Court; beautiful but cutthroat, never bending, never breaking.

‘Thank you for yesterday with Cassian.’

A soft breath passed his lips. He raised her leg slightly higher to work on her thigh. Although it was an act to help his wife, running his hands along her legs also had the blood pumping quicker around his body.

‘You don’t need to thank me for defending you, my love. You are my wife. I’d stand in front of death itself and let it take me into its cold embrace rather than you.’

Nesta’s lips pressed together as she smiled. Through heavy lashes, she gazed up at him, almost bashfully. ‘You say such romantic things.’

He kissed the soft skin of her thigh.

In the fireplace of their bedroom, his magic twisted in ribbons of red and gold until Nesta flexed her hand and her own went to join it. Her grey eyes watched the flames as they turned together, becoming one. In each moment, the happiness slipped further from her expression. It warped her features until she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying.

‘Nesta, tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I don’t understand mating bonds. How can he be my mate? We have nothing in common. He treats me poorly. Why would the Cauldron put us together? I don’t understand it. The bond is always gnawing away at me and I can’t bear it anymore. I want rid of it.’

He pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly to him.

‘Why aren’t we mates?’ She swallowed down her tears, gripping onto him fiercely. ‘We are a perfect match. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Mating bonds don’t always lead to happiness. I have many theories and opinions on the Cauldron’s ability to select equals which I’d be glad to share with you one day.’

‘Of course, you would,’ she said, laughing slightly through her tears.

‘Books and books of notes of my observations,’ he murmured, kissing her softly. ‘A mating bond is no guarantee of love. There are countless examples where it is wrong. You are not wrong for having a mating bond that doesn’t bring you joy.’

‘But why aren’t we mates?’

Eris wondered if anybody had truly explained what a mate was to Nesta. If anybody had explained half of the things in her life that were new, or had they expected her to figure it all out alone.

‘Do not think that our love is less because we are not mated.’ He smoothed her hair down, the silken strands soft beneath his fingers. ‘There was no force pushing us together. Fate did not shackle us. We chose each other, Nesta. Do you not think that is special? More special than a bond you cannot run from? I’d choose you in every lifetime.’

A cool hand stroked along his cheek. ‘You say such beautiful things and I can never match your words.’

‘I’ve had centuries to prepare them.’

Nesta tilted her head up to meet his lips as he cradled her still on his lap. Their flames danced together, oblivious to the heartache occurring on the bed. One day, Eris would tell his wife that he detested the idea of a mating bond forcing two together. The very idea revulsed him. He had met people who had waited their whole life for a mate who never arrived. Others who loved the bond more than their partner. The evidence for bonds being tragically wrong were littered throughout history.

‘I waited five hundred years to meet you.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Mother above, you’re ancient.’

‘In five hundred years, you will still be absolutely devastating and I will be old and shrivelled and sagging – and you will have to kiss me.’

Her thumb traced the seam of his lips. ‘I can’t wait to grow old with you.’  

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @this-is-rochelle @kitkat-writes-stuff @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

[thelioncourts]

the absolutely amazing and lovely people over at @iwtvfanevents are hosting an event this weekend in which we share and discuss some of our favorite fics in the fandom. I know I'm going to miss some, but here are some fics that have utterly ruined me and make me so grateful to be part of this fandom 💕

reformation by verseau

we're gonna heal. we're gonna start again. you've brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers. // It makes him speechless sometimes, how much he loves Lestat. He thought for years, a decade, that it was sickness. It’s not. It’s not. Even when Louis hated Lestat, nothing was more certain than that he loved him. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis; Complete/WIP: WIP

bookmarked this months and months ago with the note, "the best louis and lestat characterization."

till forever falls apart by lesfleursrouges

"That night we met for the first time, I wanted to punch you in the face, you know," Louis mutters, "You were so infuriating. Getting on my nerves." Lestat scoffs. "You couldn’t even look away," he counters, "You liked it." Louis laughs and brushes a stray lock of blonde hair behind his ear. "Of course I did," he whispers, "You got me good, that night. You were on my mind all the time after." Set in episode 1x2. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

there is a line in this that I literally think about once a week

catacomb by @baberainbowao3

The ghost of Lestat follows Louis throughout Europe. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis, Armand/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

posted just yesterday and I am....so unwell....babe never misses. e v e r.

part of your world by @weather-mood

When Crown Prince Louis de Pointe du Lac’s ship is attacked by a siren, all crew are lost at sea and Louis washes up ashore, uncertain if he hallucinated the monster. Until that monster shows up, seemingly human, in the lead up to his coronation. The Little Mermaid but make it Fairytale Horror. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

You all should have a general idea as to how I feel about this fic, but it 1) changed the chemistry of my brain 2) legit had me dropping EVERYTHING to see read the newest chapter.

a potentiality for corruption by @vampdf

It was a good story for the rumour mill: the de Pointe du Lac boy flees under the cover of night without a word to his parents and at the same time that strange European returns home across the Atlantic. In spite of all of the gossip about that morning of extortion and intimidation, Louis had gone willingly. or: God, the château de lioncourt and a fistful of poison. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis, Lestat/Armand, Armand/Louis, Lestat/Louis/Armand; Complete/WIP: Complete

words will not do this justice...............they simply won't. read it.

alluvium by serpentskirts

Armand sinks down to squat in the water, sets himself at level with Louis' dull eyes. Under the cradle of his fingers the blood is caked and brittle. "If I may, Mr. Du Lac." With a piece of soft cloth soaked in clear water the stranger's blood is wiped away. Brown to red the crust dissolves in the stream, swirls for a moment before it is carried away, inconsequential. Rating: E; Pairing: Armand/Louis; Complete/WIP: WIP

chapter 5. chapter. 5.

good to love/ruthless in love by @brightfelon

Lestat and Armand's decade-long rivalry has finally come to a head, leading to an affair neither of them planned for, but that both feel powerless to stop. Louis and Daniel are friendly neighbors, nothing more, until they find out their husbands are having an affair with one another. Revenge has them carrying out an affair of their own. But it may be becoming more than revenge. Maybe it always was. and It had been nearly four years since Lestat lost his husband, his best friend, and his ambition, leading him to sell the family company and leave the city. Louis, Armand, and Daniel are still caught in the riptide Lestat believed he managed to escape. But when he attempts to sever his ties to them permanently, he may get drawn back in. Ratings: M; Pairing: ~in general~ Lestat/Louis, Lestat/Armand, Armand/Louis, Lestat/Louis/Armand (??!), Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Louis, Armand/Louis/Daniel; Complete/WIP: GTL - Complete, RiL - WIP

Listen..............I don't do poly and yet I found myself (and still do find myself) literally salivating for the next update. truly revolutionary.

roadkill by @baberainbowao3 and nlbv

A family trip to the circus ends with a satisfying supper and an attempt to fill Louis' belly. Rating: E; Pairing: Lestat/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

would give babe and nlbv anything in the world......would destroy the world for them if they asked

rosary by flowerplots

Alternate ways to pray the Rosary. “It is best to be on your knees for worship and repentance, I believe.” Rating: E; Pairing: Armand/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

*thousand yard stare*

rumplestiltskin by @weather-mood

Louis wakes up in a tower. Rating: E; Pairing: Armand/Louis; Complete/WIP: Complete

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wish I could be coherent about this, idk idk, there's no coping with it.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

there are. so many for fics. I'll try to do a post tomorrow too because I want to praise everyone. truly such a talented fandom. go give these fics and their authors all the love ❤

[techno-woman]

EMBRACING A NEW FUTURE (The Teal Mask)

(The following story is told from the perspective of Ogerpon.)

We left our home burning in the flames of war. We had lost nearly everything but we had each other: me and my friend. I don’t remember if there were others like me or where they were. It didn’t really matter though, I was happy to just have my friend with me as we searched for a new home.

We traveled far and found a place to call home. My friend was very happy to see how peaceful it was and I shared that happiness too while we made our way to the village. But to our surprise the villagers were scared of us. Why though? My friend is a human like them, so why should they be scared? They said that we weren’t allowed to live in the village with them. I didn’t understand it at all but my friend told me that it was fine and that we would look elsewhere to live. He told me that some humans are wary of those that come from a different region and to not let it bother me since we still have each other.

Thankfully we found a cave in the mountain and started to live there. It wasn’t long until one of the villages who was a mask maker came to us with four masks for me and my friend. He said that there will be a festival coming up soon which will be a good opportunity to wear these masks to hide our faces and visit the village secretly. My friend and I were grateful to the mask maker and visited the village on the day of the festival. I was nervous about going back to the village but after they saw our masks I was happy how they love our masks so much. We visited the village for each festival and we were truly happy to find Kitakami as our new home.

Little did I know that happiness would soon come crashing down when I came back home from foraging food. The mess was nothing compared to my friend who was lying on the floor bruised and beaten. I walked closer to him and was shocked to see most of his skin was unnaturally purple. I believe he was attacked by a poison Pokémon but from the footprints I saw there was about three of them. Looking around I saw that three of our masks were gone from their storage area and the only one we had left was held onto by my friend. I tried to get him to wake up and ask him but he couldn’t get up. He would never wake up again.

Feeling sad and angry I put on my friend’s mask and followed the footprints. The trail led me to a trio of Pokémon who were gloating over the masks they stole from us. They didn’t even feel remorseful about what they did to my friend. They said that the masks they took would make a lot of money if sold to the highest bidder. These Pokémon stole from us out of greed. So I made them pay dearly for their crimes. Once it was done I felt relieved but that feeling was short lived when the villagers saw what I had done to the three Pokémon. They saw me as an evil monster and treated me like one. But they treated those Pokémon like heroes. I wanted to tell them that they were wrong but I was too hurt to say it and returned home to put my friend to rest. Years had passed and I would visit the village occasionally during the festival but out of sight. My friend is gone now but I wanted to keep my memories of him alive by wearing his mask and going to the festival. The three masks that the Pokémon stole were kept in the Kitakami hall but I didn’t have the heart to bring them back.

I spent a long time alone in the mountain without anyone to call friend. Then……you came along. You saw me for who I was and what I had been through. You even helped me get my masks back. And I thank you for that, my friend. Now I can embrace a new future with you wherever it takes us.

End.

[writing-whump]

Rain, ruin, respite

Follows the events of Isaiah's poisoning. The moving in together arc. Isaiah recovers from the poison, Seline ponders the possibilities and Matthew breathes himself into a panic attack.

Slight emeto, angst, fluff.

***

If Seline thought that spending the night taking care of sick Isaiah and saving him from dying would lead to some new closeness between them, she was wrong.

It took a few days for Isaiah’s fever to break and for him to become coherent. But she knew immediately when he did by the sudden distance that grew between them. Like the flame snuffed out from his eyes, and a blank canvas covered his face. 

He was all sorrys and thank yous, constantly looking for ways to curl up the farthest from both of them as possible and his voice was so cold and devoid of emotions or so fake…she guessed he didn’t have the strength to muster up a convincing disguise. Which made her even sadder, cause it seemed like he didn’t know how to interact with them without one. 

“Can I go home today?” Isaiah asked with a tentative voice, as if trying not to test her patience. He had been asking that a lot lately. But she was adamant about him staying under her care till he could at least walk without shaking.

Seline took over his recovery completely, from monitoring his temperature, amount of sleep and water intake to cooking the light kinds of food that would gradually introduce his sensitive stomach to eating again. Chicken soups, cooked carrots and potatoes, no salt. Healing herbal teas and saline solutions. 

Matthew was another surprise. He became their private errand boy. Picked up Isaiah’s fresh clothes, did the groceries and she actually caught him doing her laundry in the morning, which was embarrassing as hell. But he seemed to want to stay over as long as Isaiah would, so she didn’t complain about the help.

The three of them had been huddled up together for the last three days. Not really sure what to make of the new situation, without actually voicing it out loud.

Isaiah was poisoned.

They had all targets on their backs, even before helping him. So this was even worse. If they didn’t become a pack, they would be in danger they couldn’t likely handle on their own. And Seline knew that was not an easy realization for either of them to accept. And Isaiah felt so guilty about the whole thing - about letting them save his life for god’s sake - that she didn’t have the heart to start the topic herself.

She crossed her hands on her chest, leaning on the wall opposite the table.

Isaiah sat behind it, leaning over the freshly cooked and steaming soup, dark green eyes occasionally flickering to her.

Matthew was sprawled on the couch reading a newspaper he picked up in front of the post. He was reading it upside down, so she doubted his investment. 

“Seriously, Seline. I’m grateful beyond words for your help and care, but this is entirely unnecessary-”

Her patience likely didn’t have much room to be tested to begin with. 

“You will not,” she hissed at him, stepping closer, “spit on our effort to keep you alive, alright? You are in danger. We knew that and still took the risk. We already chose.”

“Yes! And by staying, I’m making it worse for you.”

“It can hardly be any worse.”

Isaiah winced at that and she regretted her words immediately. She heard the rustling of paper as Matthew put the news down. 

Isaiah glared at the soup sullenly and took a few spoons before grumbling. “Then maybe we should just move in together.” 

Seline shook her head and leaned back against the wall. She felt too antsy to actually sit down and relax, when the fight seemed far from over. “Yeah, like that was an option”

Isaiah looked up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Seline scoffed at him. “You just came up with that! You can’t be serious.”

“It’s a spontaneous idea, yes,” Isaiah nodded solemnly. “But that doesn’t make it worthless. Think about it. You would have access to unlimited magic through contact with wolves. Me and Matthew would have an apartment with witch protections. We could all synch our schedules so that you wouldn’t have to go alone anywhere. And each one of us would have people at home that would be suspicious if someone doesn’t show up. That makes a lot of difference to random attackers. Or to organized ones.” 

The tension filled the room like a heavy smell of hyacinths. Full and intense it made her eyes water. She noted Matthew shifting uneasily on the couch from the corner of her eye.

There goes the hard part. 

Seline swallowed. “I have a life, you know? I can’t just-”

“You wouldn’t be giving up your life. This is a way to preserve it," Isaiah said.

“You are serious?” Seline checked.

“Yes. I realize it’s my fault, so we can move to mine. Or I’ll get us a new one. I will pay you back, you know? They are not scared of me for nothing. I have resources.”

Like perfect control, a powerful shadow, rich parents, a well-paying internship for a psychological research agency for the government, a well-respected diplomatic position among the packs and contacts all over the city? Seline had to admit that wasn’t little. 

Seline looked at Matthew. A long look in which she hoped to ask a lot of things. What do you think? Will you accept? Do you believe him? Do you like the idea?

Matthew shrugged and looked away. “Fine by me.” 

Seline pressed her lips into a tight line. “Give me some time to think this over,” she said quietly into the wall. 

“Of course,” Isaiah said, returning to his soup with a grievous expression. “Same for you, Matt. Take some time and think about it”

“What is there to think about?” Matthew said gruffly and stood up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll go take a walk.” 

Seline wondered if that meant it affected him too much or not at all. 

***

Isaiah did give her space. 

She spent the rest of the day on the balcony, huddled up in a blanket.

First, she went through the rational reasons - a steady source of magic, protection for her. Matthew had been hanging out a lot around her place anyway, so she was pretty used to his presence.

Isaiah was…evasive, mysterious, distant? But also reliable and she could tell he cared. He cared about her even though he didn’t have a pack to invite her to, which gave her comfort.

It felt like he talked for her and not for what she could do for him, like he was seeing her - Seline the cultural scientist, the passionate student, the writer behind the songs, the one studying writing theory, the one tutoring younger students and giving her own classes as university assistant - not just the witch. 

Then she examined it from an emotional perspective. 

She loved that the city offered her the asisstant job alongside her studies. That she could help with writing, the thing she loved. Plus commuting for 10 years prior had been enough, she liked the location, the independency, the feeling like she could make it on her own.

Seline was lonely.

That’s why she waited so long. To enjoy her parents, her family. Because of the close relationship with her mother and grandfather and dad and brother. Because despite being an introvert and writer in need of space and alone time, she loved the noises made in the living room. The smells coming from the kitchen, the sympathy when someone got sick, the reassurance someone would come for her if it rained. 

Honestly she didn’t expect the packs to be such a problem. But they were much more forceful in the city about having your place among them than when she lived at home. 

Isaiah was her only ally here. He was civil, respectful and impressive - not just for a wolf, but for a guy.

And she yearned for that freedom. From watching your mouth, from being subdued and nice and hiding your mood, because your little brother had a wolf temper to go with his teenage hormones.

She was tired of her dad raising his voice whenever he felt a bit emotional and it being okay, cause wolf stuff. The perfect excuse.

It felt like she couldn’t express her anger at all, like her dissatisfaction didn’t matter, cause her role was predefined. Witches compensate for the wolf temper. They are the light to the shadow, the water to their hellfire, the song to their growls. 

It’s all about them and the witches take it, cause they love their magic. How could you not love the magic, once you tasted it? Commanding air with your voice? The droplets of water twisting around your fingertips like a ribbon?

They would pay the price and be happy about it. Just like you didn’t mouth off a boss or tell the professor her sense of organization sucks or tell the group project people to just not do anything, cause you would do it better yourself. And the more she felt pressed down, the more things she noticed, the more sensitive she became. Injustice, ignorance, stupidity, laziness. Not changing your course for fear of losing the effort put in until then, even though it was wrong. 

It drove her crazy to see the mistakes and all the reasons why people wouldn’t correct them. 

So maybe Isaiah was right. Exactly right. She wanted what she felt like she couldn’t have.

And he handed it over, without asking, like it was natural, like he didn’t need a reason to forgive her. To have emotions, to protest, to stand up for herself. 

With Matthew, it was different. He had to get used to her anger, to her expressing herself and standing behind doing so. No apologies, no submission, not making it easier on your precious violent wolf temper. If he expected concessions for having a big shadow, he wouldn’t get them from her. 

So yes, maybe she was more provocative and straightforward than she needed to be. She liked it. She liked seeing the reactions of people, what they did when she challenged their expectations, when she cared about herself first. Let them call her selfish, she was happier. Comfortable.

But Matthew did come to accept how she was. Despite the anger and complaints and the banter, he did and she felt seen too. It wasn’t just cause of the guaranteed niceness he came for, when she wasn’t being nice. 

Could she imagine living with them both, though?

“Care for some tea?” Isaiah interrupted her thoughts, joining her on the balcony with a tray. Black tea with milk and sugar cubes, just like she liked it. He was so attentive about such details, she didn’t know how he did it.

Isaiah sat down beside her in the chair. He looked pale and gaunt, coat neatly buttoned up to the chin. When he didn’t comb his hair back, all slick and smooth, he had bangs hanging on the sides reaching under his eyes. There was a slight wave to them she found endearing. 

She watched him from the side as he drank his cup of tea - without milk or sugar, just as she instructed.

Not looking at her, not pressing her for answers, but offering an ear if she had any to discuss. 

“I would like to sleep on it,” she warned.

Isaiah’s green eyes immediately snapped to her. They were a pure sea green in the sunset light coming through the cloudy sky. 

“And I have conditions. If we do this and Matthew agrees, we would all rent a place together. I’m not letting you or anyone else pay for me. We will all put the same amount in that new place. I want my own room and bathroom if possible. Also, if you expect household services, I will disappoint you, cause I’m a pretty bad cook…”

Isaiah waved it away with a wide smile, eyebrows raising. “I wouldn’t expect something like that. Am I allowed to use my contacts at least to find us a place with a good location?” 

Seline scoffed at him. “You may.” 

He grinned at her. 

She bit her lip, wondering how to address the last thing that made her antsy about the situation. 

Isaiah studied her face. “Would you be open to the idea, even if it wasn’t for the safety reasons?” 

Yep, that one. 

Because she realized during her pondering that maybe she would be. Because they have somehow become the two closest people in this overwhelming big city of strangers. Because living alone wasn’t quite as cut out for her. 

Seline looked away with a slight lift of the corner of her mouth. 

Isaiah chuckled and looked ahead at the sunset with the happiest expression she had seen in the last few days. He looked so relaxed and unguarded like this, with wavy hair, sparkly eyes, showing genuine contentment over something. It was a new side of him. 

Made her wonder about all the other sides there were to Isaiah Wolfson.

***

Matthew wandered the streets through the rain. It was nice, cause no one interrupted him. No crowds in bad weather and every passerby was hurrying up, not paying him any attention.

He craved space. Open space of a field or the steepness of a high hill. Or healthy-looking thickness of trees in a forest. The buildings, the stoney streets smelling of gas and cars and sameness was opressing in moods like these.

Isaiah suggested living together so nonchalantly. Spur of the moment idea. Here is a solution: why not, take it.

As if he didn’t know how much he would change Matthew’s life.

He had been alone for the last 10 years, since he was 14. Before, he had a room alone, farthest from the center of the house. And then he lived in packs with big buildings, in sort of dorms.

Always alone.

Everyone keeping away from his temper, from his shadow, his anger with said shadow and those tempers. Frustration from training that didn’t help and unsympathetic looks as he struggled with it. 

You had to keep away from the walking ticking bomb, the fiery redhead with a crazy powerful shadow who couldn’t handle himself. No one would want to bunk with him, be a roommate. 

Affording his own place was a relief. Finally, he didn’t have to keep being rejected. 

There were hardly any regular people in his life. Provisory pack leaders. Professors at school. It got lost in the swarm of faces. 

And then Isaiah came, not deterred by his bad moods nor by his failings in training. Cheerful and carefree, always expecting the best, never complaining about the worst. With all his caring touches and encouraging back pats. They were a sign of dominance from a wolf or something reserved for close pack members. But Isaiah wasn’t afraid of him and he didn’t like rules and when he wasn’t currently pulling away, surprisingly affectionate. 

Introducing Seline, the temperamental witch. He liked her despite the irony of it. Never before was he worth a witch’s effort. They never wanted to waste any calming effects on a lost cause. He didn’t realize how much he missed it, how much he missed out on, until he couldn’t stop hanging out around her. Didn’t realize what it felt like to be welcome, when someone doesn’t expect you but won’t chase you away. 

He didn’t acknowledge the care, the favor they were doing him, cause if he did, there would be an ocean of feelings and loneliness to acknowledge in contrast. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. 

But now the dam was breaking. One flick of Isaiah’s hands, an innocent suggestion, one sentence, rocking his world. 

Seline needed to think it over. Ha. This was a gift, a gift that shouldn’t have been strange or mean so much. Except it did.

And now Matthew wandered the streets and couldn’t catch his breath. It came in rapid little gasps, with needly pain to his right side. Was breathing supposed to hurt? 

He pulled his shadow up, quick and carefully emotionless, to take away the injury. 

Nothing changed. 

Matthew leaned against the wall of a historical building of vanilla colour. Breathing felt like swallowing a bunch of metal splinters. 

Maybe he should go back. 

Matthew stumbled his way back, half by memory, half by scent. Forcing his body through the motions until he found the familiar entrance, the old elevator. 

When he dragged himself to the door, he couldn’t make himself open it. What was he going to do? Shout for help? Explain that for a mystical, not physically related reason, he couldn’t breathe by the mention of a dream he didn’t know he had forbidden himself to think about, getting fulfilled? 

Matthew slid down to the floor and pressed his back against the wall under the window in the hallway, legs stretched out in front of him. Tipping his head back, right hand pressing to his chest, he tried to force oxygen to the invisible obstruction. He felt panicky tears down his face. But it was going numb anyway.

By some miracle, though, Isaiah appeared in the doorway. Went to his knees by Matthew’s side immediately, hands gripping his shoulder. There was alarm and intensity on his pale face, still visibly thinner after the ordeal with the poison.

Matthew didn’t hear the words spoken, just that Isaiah’s mouth opened and closed. The frantic concern twisting his features somehow calmed him. 

Someone was worried. Isaiah was worried. Isaiah solved everything. It was okay. 

His throat eased up suddenly and he took a beautiful deep breath, before bursting into a coughing fit. His chest, throat and nose burned with exertion, but Isaiah’s hand on his arm felt steady and warm. He focused on the sensation, letting it ground him. 

The cough turned into gags, his stomach muscles painfully constricting. Isaiah leaned him forward as he heaved emptily over his side. That hurt, but when it was over, he could finally breathe easily. He was panting, enjoying the flow of air. Isaiah still held his shoulder in an iron grip and Matthew felt tired, like his head weighed a ton from all the oxygen. He leaned against Isaiah, who caught him against his side, arm circling around his back gingerly.

Matthew lost track of time, only focusing on his senses. The cold of the floor, the hardness of the wall against his back. Isaiah’s chest under his ear, rising and falling rhythmically. 

He didn’t remember when Seline found them. 

The world still felt numb and soundless, out of character. He only felt relief as she ushered them inside. 

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

As determined by the randomizer, the two prompts I was working with were "Final Fantasy 7" and "Sick Day". Been a while since I played with FF7 characters, so I'm a little out of practice, but here we go!

The grashshrikes shouldn't have been a problem for a mercenary like Cloud. He'd fought worse -- these things weren't even sentient! It was way more of a pain to deal with Shinra gunners! But just a split second of distraction was enough to slip up where grashshrikes were involved.

Cloud fumbled for a Cure and shot a dirty look at Barrett as Jessie put down the last monster. Was it really worth it, working for this guy? Sure, it kept a roof over his head, but Cloud was pretty sick of being the target for the guy's hatred of Shinra.

Well. Currently he was pretty sick period.

"Ugh."

Cloud tipped his head back and let it smack against a wall of sheet metal.

Out of Cure materia, and all he'd done was lower the poison from "debilitating" to "knocked out for the next 24 hours". He really needed to get his hands on a Cura. Or a Curaga, but that sounded too optimistic for the way his luck tended to run.

(Had his luck always been this bad? Sure, he had some misfortune as a kid, but what about during his time as a SOLDIER? Barrett had a point: shouldn't he be able to remember?)

"Hey, you okay, bro?" Wedge crouched next to him with a worried frown. "You don't look so good."

"'M fine," Cloud growled.

The second he let on that he was still poisoned, they'd probably drop him. And then he could say goodbye to any chance of getting paid.

"Barrett, something's wrong with Cloud!" Wedge called over his shoulder, "He didn't even tell me to stop calling him bro!"

Barrett looked equal parts irate and sheepish -- decidedly unsettling in combination on his face.

He stomped over and squatted in front of Cloud to glare at him.

"What's wrong with you, merc?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Cloud rolled his eyes and shoved down the wave of nausea that produced with gritted teeth. "You've never seen someone sit down before?"

"You let that thing sting you, didn't you?"

With a jerk, Cloud stood upright. For a moment, the world tipped on its side.

He was grateful that he hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. If he'd had anything in his apartment worth eating, it all would've made an encore appearance as he tried to keep his footing.

The humiliating levels of concern on the AVALANCHE members' faces -- even Barrett -- made it clear that he wasn't going to be able to fool them.

"So do you normally try to distract people during monster fights?" he asked Barrett pointedly, "or am I just special?"

Jessie snickered. "Oooooo," she sang, "Tifa's gonna kick your butt, Barrett!"

"Knock it off," Barrett fired back, but secretly he agreed.

The middle of a fight with four grashshrikes really wasn't the place to be interrogating the kid about Shinra policies, he did know that. But the surly mercenary's penchant for brushing him off with "how should I know?" type answers was grating on his nerves. All things considered, retorting "what, you don't remember?" shouldn't have been that big of a deal -- at least, it wouldn't have been for one of his team. But Cloud wasn't one of them. And something about Barrett's irritable comment had made him literally stumble mid swing, allowing an opportunistic grashshrike an opening to sting him in the side.

And unfortunately, what with how Tifa felt about her home -- the one Shinra destroyed -- Barrett suspected that saying Cloud was responsible for his own injuries wouldn't pass muster with the formidable Miss Lockhart. And anyway, regardless of how Barrett felt about the merc, he was Tifa's friend -- Ancients only knew why. The kid had lost enough for one lifetime. No reason to add her friend to that list.

"Well at least that was the last of 'em," he grunted, then he heaved himself upright and dusted off his knees.

"Jessie, Wedge, you go turn that job in and collect the pay. We'll meet you at the 7th Heaven to divide it."

He waved his machine-gun hand at Biggs.

"C'mere, you're making sure Junior here doesn't drop dead on the way home."

Cloud didn't mind Biggs, not really. But with the way his head was pounding, and his shirt felt like sandpaper against his chest, the idea of anyone "helping" him was both unappealing and embarrassing.

"Don't touch me," he snapped, pulling away quickly.

That was a mistake, as it turned out. The world started spinning again, and having an empty stomach didn't seem to matter after all as bile ejected from his mouth.

"Eesh." Wedge scrambled back. "You know what you need?"

"Five minutes' peace without all of you running around like broody chocobos?" Cloud asked dryly. This was ignored.

"You need a gingerbeer and salted crackers," Wedge said sagely. "Once that poison's cured, anyway."

"Leave me alone," Cloud groaned.

(Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone!)

"Just give me a Cure and I'll be fine."

"You need a Cura, idiot," Barrett chided him, without the usual bite. "We've got one at the bar."

Without a second of hesitation, the big man threw one of Cloud's arms over his shoulders and began walking. Cloud struggled to extricate himself from Barrett's grip, but doing so just made the nausea worse.

"I can walk!" he insisted.

"Like a drunken moogle, sure," Barrett snorted. "Listen kid, Tifa will have my head if I let you go back to work in this condition. You're lucky she wasn't there to see that, or we'd both be dead men. We're goin' home."

Cloud bared gritted teeth. "I'm going to throw up on you," he threatened.

Barrett just tightened his grip and rolled his eyes.

"Like I've never been puked on before?"

On Cloud's other side, Biggs gave him a weird look, and Barrett harrumphed a little.

"My daughter, knucklehead. You never burped a baby at Leaf House?"

"Ohhhh, gotcha." Biggs looked chagrined. "Kinda thought you meant bar patrons or something."

"You honestly think Tifa would let somebody get that drunk in my bar?" Barrett shook his head almost grimly. "Who needs a bouncer when you've got her?"

Cloud wasn't sure how they got from the edge of the slums to a ratty fold-out couch in the AVALANCHE headquarters after that, honestly, but at some point Biggs deposited a Cura on his chest with strict instructions to "play nice".

Cloud had been more confused about the direction than his sudden change in location...until he turned his head and found four year old Marlene wearing a children's Mage costume, holding a toy Bouncy Materia.

Bouncy Materia? That was a thing?

"I," said Marlene with all the solemnity a preschooler could muster, "am a mage. I'm gonna heal ya. Say aaaaahhhh."

Cloud blinked at the tiny figure incredulously. "....what?"

"Say aahhh!" Marlene repeated. "Daddy said to make sure you didn't get outta bed while he makes us lunch. Biggs said you had a tummyache, so I gotta make sure you don't have a bad sick like the flu."

"....how're you going to tell that by looking at my throat?" Cloud croaked.

The little girl shrugged. "I dunno, that's what the doctor does! She looks in my throat and then she knows why I feel sick."

Cloud pondered this.

"Well," he said at last, "I don't know enough about doctors to prove you wrong. Carry on, I guess."

He began to regret that when the sparkly stickers shaped like bandages came out.

All six sheets of them.

[imyandere]

Death to Dignity [ 18+ ]

Artist: Rebellious

Writer: rotcar

official description

Once thriving but now facing financial ruin, Jang Solbi becomes the secretary of Choi Seokyoon, the chairman of a powerful corporation.

Grateful for the support during her family's hardship, she works tirelessly to repay their debt. However, following the loss of her parents, Solbi uncovers the dark truth behind their tragedy and seeks revenge against Chairman Choi.

After years spent working for him, the moment finally arrives, yet her plans are foiled by Choi's son, Leehwan. Even after witnessing Solbi's hatred towards his father, Leehwan proposes a disturbing deal: comply with him, and he'll overlook her attempted murder.

Despite her initial repulsion, Solbi reluctantly accepts, hoping for a second chance. As time passes, she discovers an unexpected attraction to Leehwan. Is her interest mere curiosity, or is this evolving relationship destined to become something deeper?

TW.

child abuse

suicide attempt

sexual content

violent behaviour

attempted murder

official eng trans

Jen's review.

This manhwa caught my attention cause of their cover photo. I wanted a good smut to read but I was hooked by the storyline.

Short but they explained everything.

How solbi tried to kill chairman choi but got caught by his son, Leehwan.

You might at first think that, chairman's son going to use her for sexual intercourse but no. He was weird. He might become a yandere later.

You can probably can see the attraction and tension between them but they slowly started to get comfortable.

Both have different reasons to hate Choi Seokyoon.

Leehwan ask why she try to kill his father who is already sick. she couldn't bring herself to answer that properly.

Solbi was confused why he didn't fired her. He told her that he doesn't want her to get in trouble by poisoning that old man, he was going to die in 6 months.

Oh no, he didn't told her that but promise her. He will die in 6 months, i promise.

By this, we already know his father was abusive.

And then we get flashback, when solbi start to work for chairman choi and solbi meet Leehwan as ran away from his home.

It pain him to see her bright smile and unknowing about his life. what she would have done if he told her anything about his situation?

But he didn't.

her family was so happy and loving. She is so happy with her parents.

And what about his? Father is abusive. His mother? oh. She is a pathetic person, no, not because she is suicidal but for staying with a abusive-cheating-slutty-bitch.

He was trying hard to not breakdown infront of her but it's so hard for a child.

Maybe solbi should have known better than trusting stranger. Only if she was more careful.

[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

The Kingdom’s Best Cake Shop!

Never a Dull Moment!

Magical Emergency Handling: The case is officially closed! Almond Cookie: Good work, everyone. I know it’s time to go home, but please… Magical Emergency Handling: Yes, yes, we know. It may be the holidays, but crime doesn’t take holidays. Right? Magical Emergency Handling: Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back if we get a call! Almond Cookie: Ha ha, I’m grateful to have such a dedicated team. Almond Cookie’s Pager: *beep beep* Magical Emergency Handling: Oh, me and my big mouth! I should keep a sack of salt around… Almond Cookie: No, no, this is… Friendly Text: “Have you heard that the most BRILLIANT wizards in the history of Parfaedia are having the SWEETEST party ever?! You better hurry before the cake is all gone!” Almond Cookie: …A personal call. Almond Cookie: I’ll be off then. Have a good night, folks.

Cream Puff Cookie: Oh, Detective Almond Cookie! Over here! Latte Cookie: Perfect timing! TA-DA! What do you think of this masterpiece?! Almond Cookie: …It’s a cake? Cream Puff Cookie: It’s not just any ordinary cake though! It’s a custom-made cake by the Sugar Gnome Cake Shop! I can’t wait to try it…! Latte Cookie: Do you have any idea how much trouble we went through to get this cake? You know, for a detective, you sure can be clueless sometimes! Almond Cookie: …Please understand that this time of the year can get pretty… hectic. My apologies. Latte Cookie: You’re welcome! It always makes me proud when a student of mine learns something… Ha ha! Almond Cookie: …??? Are you calling me a student- Latte Cookie: Ha ha! Let’s go inside, shall we? Cream Puff Cookie did such an amazing job preparing the place for the part! Prepare to be wowed! Cream Puff Cookie: Eh he he… It wasn’t all me… I couldn’t have done it without the kind professor! Almond Cookie: You organized all of this by yourselves? Cream Puff Cookie: Yep, we decorated with ribbons, cooked a bunch of yummy dishes, and even cast spells so the dishes won’t grow cold! Cream Puff Cookie: I made cute cream puppy decorations and lit candles to make it extra pretty… OH! Latte Cookie: Yes, candles feel much more festive than magical lights… OH!? Almond Cookie: W-what’s the matter with you two?!

Latte Cookie: We forgot to turn off the candles before picking up the cake…! Almond Cookie: WHAT?! And you call yourself a responsible adult?! Cream Puff Cookie: W-what do we do, professor? Latte Cookie: We run! Now! Almond Cookie! Start running! Almond Cookie: Wizards…! It’s like you’re TRYING to create accidents…! Almond Cookie: You call that running?! Where’s the party?! Run faster!

Bound by Cake

Cake Monsters: Huff huff… huff… Red Velvet Cookie: Good work, desserts. You are now officially soldiers of the Cake legion. Cake Monsters: RUFF! Red Velvet Cookie: It is I who command the battlefield. You lot have nothing to worry about. I’m responsible for everything… Poison Mushroom Cookie: Red Velvet Coooookie! Red Velvet Cookie: Poison Mushroom Cookie? Odd to see you here.

Pomegranate Cookie: Poison Mushroom Cookie is here because they followed me. Greetings, Red Velvet Cookie. Pomegranate Cookie: It’s not long until our master’s grand plans finally come to fruition. Truly, a crucial moment for us all… Pomegranate Cookie: And as expected, thankfully, I see that you’re working hard as always. Pomegranate Cookie: Unlike some foolish Cookie who decided to get in line for some cake in such crucial times. Licorice Cookie: I-I was spying on the cake shop! Gathering information! Pomegranate Cookie: Getting in line several times wearing EXACTLY the same disguise can hardly be called… “spying”. Pomegranate Cookie: Admit it! You just wanted to eat cake! The entire Tower of Sweet Chaos is at your disposal, but no! You HAD to get THAT cake! Red Velvet Cookie: I know it was probably just a spur of the moment but these are not for sale or eating.

Licorice Cookie: The disguise was because I need more than one cake! Bat-Cat and Schwarzwälder wanted some too… Pomegranate Cookie: If you could put half the effort you aim towards those fools into the master’s grand plans…! Red Velvet Cookie: You two, take it outside. Licorice Cookie: What are you saying?! I give 100% and more to Dark Enchantress Cookie! Red Velvet Cookie: It’s like talking to a wall… Poison Mushroom Cookie: Lookie lookie, Red Velvet Cookie! Red Velvet Cookie: It’s a cake. Do you want me to cut you a piece? Poison Mushroom Cookie: Make me a friend, please! Red Velvet Cookie: A friend? Ah. You mean a Cake Hound. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Only cakes born in this very oven here and my sword can… Poison Mushroom Cookie: No… friends…? But I have lots… of shroomies… Red Velvet Cookie: …You know Cookies that will have that cake with you though. Poison Mushroom Cookie: With… me…? Red Velvet Cookie: Yes. You have me, and those two squabbling over there as well.

Red Velvet Cookie: Here, I cut it up evenly. Go get them. Poison Mushroom Cookie: But Pomegranate Cookie… angry… I’m scared…! Red Velvet Cookie: She won’t listen to me but she will listen to you. Go…! Poison Mushroom Cookie: Hmm… Licorice Cookie: …But I-I’m good at my job, you know! Pomegranate Cookie: That’s what YOU think! Poison Mushroom Cookie: …Pomegranate Cookie, Licorice Cookie! Pomegranate Cookie: …! Licorice Cookie: …Yes, quite right! Poison Mushroom Cookie: Let’s go have cake…! Red Velvet Cookie has cut it for us! Pomegranate Cookie: Sigh… Yes. It seems that I have gotten myself overworked over something so trivial. Licorice Cookie: A-Ahem! Took the words right out of my mouth! You should thank Poison Mushroom Cookie for stopping me! Red Velvet Cookie: Ah, you’re all here. Here’s your piece. If you don’t take it, these Cake Hounds are more than happy to take it off your hands. Licorice Cookie: Huh?! Wait… WAIT! That’s MY cake! I didn’t bring it all the way here to share with you! UGH… Poison Mushroom Cookie: He he he… So lively… Poison Mushroom Cookie: So warm, my spores… Huuh…? You think so too? He he…

Super Cake Mayhem

Twizzly Gummy Cookie: Hey! Where is everyone?

Twizzly Gummy Cookie: Zap it up and come out right now! I brought cake! Wild Strawberry Cookie: Cake? Toothpaste Cookie: I knew you were up to something when you disappeared just back then… Did you steal it from the store? Twizzly Gummy Cookie: No, I bought it! Now be grateful and let’s EAT! Wild Strawberry Cookie: …You didn’t have to steal it? Twizzly Gummy Cookie: Ha ha ha… In this dimension, everyone can have as much cake as they want. I’m not gonna miss out on having cake! Toothpaste Cookie: Pfft, so you actually stood in line, ordered this gigantic cake, and PAID for it? Is that what you’re saying? Toothpaste Cookie: Who would’ve thought that you’re the galaxy’s greatest criminal who even escaped the Time Balance Department?

Toothpaste Cookie: Pfft… I can’t stop laughing! HA HA! You’re gonna make me cry! HA HA HA! Twizzly Gummy Cookie: Why you… I could’ve just had this all by myself but I brought it to share it with you guys…! *smack* Twizzly Gummy Cookie: One more laugh and I’ll stuff your mouth with this cake! Got it?! Toothpaste Cookie: Gah, what are you, five?! Throwing cake is not cool! I’ve spent hours on getting my hair ready and now it’s covered in cake! Wild Strawberry Cookie: Ew… You’re a mess. Don’t come near me. Toothpaste Cookie: …You know that only makes me wanna come close, right? Wild Strawberry Cookie: No… Stay back! ARGH! You got cake all over me as well! UGHHHH… That’s it, I’m gonna cover you in cake!

Croissant Cookie: Freeze! I’m from the TBD! You little rascals, stop right there- *SMACK* Wild Strawberry Cookie: Wait, what?! You got in my way! I was aiming for him! Croissant Cookie: Wah, what’s this? Cake…? I can’t see…! Toothpaste Cookie: Ha ha ha! Saved by the cake! Looks like TBD can be helpful after all! Twizzly Gummy Cookie: Tsk, how did they find us so soon?! Everyone, run for it! Croissant Cookie: No! Patooey! Halt! Haaaaaaalt!

Sweet Treats in the Forest

Pinecone Cookie: Ta-da! Look at this! Thick Oak Tree: *Creak…?* Pinecone Cookie: Nope! Wrong! This here, is called… Pinecone Cookie: A holiday cake! Apparently it’s super popular in the Cookie kingdom! Pinecone Cookie: It’s round and thick! Just like that trunk of yours! Long Elm Tree: *Whisssss* Pinecone Cookie: Huh…? Trees don’t eat this? Well, yeah, I know! Pinecone Cookie: But everyone was getting one… to share it with their friends… Dry Birch Tree: *Tick tick tick…* Pinecone Cookie: No, it’s fine! I’ll have it by myself… Small Animal Sounds: *chirp chirp* *purrrrr!* Pinecone Cookie: Uh… Who goes there?!

Fig Cookie: ‘Ello! Didja hear ma jelly horns as well? Pinecone Cookie: Jelly horns? I’m Pinecone Cookie, the keeper of this forest! Fig Cookie: I see! M’name is Fig Cookie. Fig Cookie: What a nice for’st you ‘ave here! This for’st is lucky to ‘ave such a mighty for’st keeper! Pinecone Cookie: Er… yeah! He he… Fig Cookie: Actually, I brought some cake to share it with ma animal friends and fellow young Cookies! Wouldja like to join us? Pinecone Cookie: Oh! Cake? I have cake too! Pinecone Cookie: I… can’t share it with my tree friends… Fig Cookie: Pafect! I was word’d it might not be enough! Fig Cookie: I’m so glad to have metcha, for’st keeper! Pinecone Cookie: R-really?! Fig Cookie: Yes, ‘f course! And I think the trees will be ‘appy to ‘ave us enjoy the cake nea’ them! Thick Oak Tree: *rustle rustle* Pinecone Cookie: Fig Cookie is right…? Pinecone Cookie: Alright! Oh, we can explain to the trees what it tastes like after having a bite! Fig Cookie: That’s a great oidea!

Holidays on the Waves

Republic Sailor Cookie 2: Heigh-ho, heigh-ho! We are the Cookies of the sea, living on the ship and that’s where we’ll be! Throw away your worries about getting soggy! Heave! Ho! Salty Shark Crew: Heave! Ho! Candy Diver Cookie: ⭗,⭗◯~! Republic Sailor Cookie 1: You lot! Stop loitering around! Do your jobs! Republic Sailor Cookie 2: Didn’t we already finish checking the merchant ships before the year-end events? We’re doing our job! Look at us! Being on guard! Republic Sailor Cookie 2: And look at our captain! He’s buying us cake because it’s the holiday! Seriously, we don’t deserve you! Republic Sailor Cookie 1: Pfft! Says the one that’s been nagging the captain ever since you saw the first snowflake! Republic Sailor Cookie 1: You dropped down the deck and started yelling how you’ll become soggy if we don’t get you some cake! Republic Sailor Cookie 2: But this fella says there’s nothing quite like it! If a Cookie says that it’s THAT good, you gotta try it!

Candy Diver Cookie: ⬛⬛⬛~! ⬜⬜⬜~! ★፠☆★!! Republic Sailor Cookie 2: And the captain is… Huh? Wait. We have a guest! Oyster Cookie: Such a merry bunch of sailors! I take it that your captain is currently occupied? Slow Salty Shark Sailor: The captain? Yes, he’s out to get us cake- Republic Sailor Cookie 2: Don’t go blabbering on about! Republic Sailor Cookie 1: The captain is busy, as always. But I’m sure the venerable elder knows that already. How can I help you today? Do you have an appointment with the captain? Oyster Cookie: Oh, naturally we’re closer than that, don’t you think? I just wanted to stop by and see a friendly face! Republic Sailor Cookie 1: R-right… of course… Republic Sailor Cookie 2: Err… Don’t do anything funny, okay> Republic Sailor Cookie 1: Ugh, you just had to get that cake, didn’t ya! Captain Caviar Cookie: What’s going on? Didn’t I tell you lot to keep watch? Republic Sailor Cookie 1 & 2: Captain! Captain Caviar Cookie: Ah. And who’s this? What brings you to the Salty Shark? Oyster Cookie: There are conversations that suit the walls of exuberant mansions and decorated halls, and there are conversations to be held over the rocking waters.

Oyster Cookie: The invitation to the year-end ball. You’ve received one, yes? Captain Caviar Cookie: Oh, that one. The one with the fancy envelope and one single sentence? Republic Sailor Cookie 1: Err… are we allowed to listen to this…? Captain Caviar Cookie: If it’s important, let’s head to my quarters. But first… Captain Caviar Cookie: You don’t mind me sharing this cake with my crew, do you? If you want a piece, feel free to sit anywhere on the deck. Republic Sailor Cookie 1: On the deck?! But she’s from House Oyster! Oyster Cookie: How kind of you to think so highly of me! Oyster Cookie: Oh, I recognize that box. It must be from the Sugar Gnomes’ Cake shop, yes? The wonderful helpers who build magnificent buildings? Republic Sailor Cookie 2: Oh? She’s sitting down! Oyster Cookie: I was wondering if it was worth getting in line… What a perfect opportunity. Since you offered, I’d love to have one. Thank you very much. Captain Caviar Cookie: Ha! Thought so. My crew comes first, so don’t think of having seconds!

Captain Caviar Cookie: You all heard that, right? Who wants cake? It’s now or never! Salty Shark Crew: Aye, aye!

Jolly Baking Livestream~☆

Parfait Cookie: Hello, hello! Thank you for coming to Parfait Cookie’s stream! Parfait Cookie: Ooh, I think I see some new names! Hi, y’all! And I also see familiar ones! WELCOME! EyesONParfait: (Parfait Cookie, we missed you!) Par_fait_Paru: (I’ve been waiting since this morning! SO EXCITED!) Parfait Cookie: Thanks, everyone! I missed you all as well! ColorfulLove: (Parfait Cookie! I hope you have a nice holiday!) Parfait Cookie: Aw, thank you! As a matter of fact, I thought I’d have something special today! To celebrate the holidays! He he… Parfait Cookie: It’s… a Holiday Cake Cooking special! Parfait Cookie: It’s my gift to you all for showing me so much love this year! Let’s all sing our favorite songs after this, yeah?! Paruparufait: (Ooh, a cooking special! Is Parfait Cookie good at baking as well? SHE’S EVERYTHING!!!) Parfait Cookie: Err, you see, it’s actually my first time baking a cake… Parfait Cookie: So I decided to invite some guests over who can help! Please give them a round of applause!

Cherry Blossom Cookie: Hi, Parfait Cookie! Thanks for inviting us! Cherry Cookie: He he, SO EXCITED! Cake bombs, here I come! EyesONParfait: (Special guests?! WHAT?! I wanna be there!) PreciousParfait: (Wait, isn’t that the Cookie behind the fireworks from that last time?) Parfait Cookie: With the help of Cherry Cookie and Cherry Blossom Cookie, I’m gonna bake a pretty and yummy cake! Parfait Cookie: Now, let me introduce the ingredients first… Parfait Cookie: Huh? Cherry Blossom Cookie, Cherry Cookie, what’s that you have? Cherry Cookie: Cake! Doesn’t it smell nice? I thought this would be perfect for our holiday picnic! Cherry Cookie: And this here is a cake too! That MAY have a bomb inside! He he, you won’t know until you try it! Parfait Cookie: But… I planned to… bake a cake today… Cherry Cookie: I know, I know, we brought one just in case! You know, in case it blows up! Parfait Cookie: B-blows… up? Cherry Blossom Cookie: Well, Cherry Cookie is here, so you never know! Cherry Cookie: Boom! BAM! But you gotta have cherry bombs on a cake! ParfaitisLIFE: (Is Cherry Cookie’s cake safe…?)

Cherry Cookie: What? But it’s an explosion of flavors! LITERALLY! HA HA! Parfait Cookie: Ha ha ha… Cherry Cookie, you’re so funny! No worries, the cake isn’t gonna explode… Right…? Parfait Cookie: Er, but I’m kinda glad Cherry Blossom Cookie has a back up cake prepared! Parfait Cookie: Then shall we start baking?! Parfait Cookie: Here goes nothing…! Thank you for always being with me! Paru-paru-PARFAIT!☆

Tropical Soda Holidays

Mango Cookie: Welcome to the Tropical Soda Island Tour where the juiciest fruits are here for you all year round! Mango Cookie: Isn’t the sun so bright and warm? I heard that it’s snowing in other kingdoms right now! Sorbet Shark Cookie: OooO? OooOoOO… Mango Cookie: You’ve never seen snow? Neither have I! It’s warm all year round in the Tropical Soda Islands! Mango Cookie: And because the climate is so different, our holidays are also different from other kingdoms. Mango Cookie: Which is why today’s tour will feature the holiday feast of the Tropical Soda Islands where every bite is full of bright delight! Mango Cookie: Let’s start it off with a fresh berry salad served in a watermelon bowl! Handmade from the Watermelon Village! Mango Cookie: Because the Soda Islands are just so hot all the time, we gotta cool it off with refreshing treats! Tourist Cookies: Oh wow, this is really freezing! That sure was refreshing!

Sorbet Shark Cookie: OoOoO! Mango Cookie: Ha ha, isn’t it nice? It definitely helps with the heat! Mango Cookie: And here’s the main dish: Tropical Seafood Platter! Get ‘em fresh, straight from the sea! Tourist Cookies: Hmm, this shrimp is hard to handle! Sorbet Shark Cookie: Oo, ooOooOo… Tourist Cookies: Huh? You want… the shrimp? Sorbet Shark Cookie: ooO! OooO! Tourist Cookies: Oh! Thank you for taking care of that! Mango Cookie: Oh, are you familiar with seafood? You’re so skilled at peeling peach shrimp! Mango Cookie: Wait, actually, why don’t you try our cold cuts as well? They’re made from smoked Jelly Beans! Mango Cookie: And add a glass of pineapple juice, and voila! Your belly is full of sweet delight! Sorbet Shark Cookie: Oooo~OoOooo~ Tourist Cookies: Oh, how sweet and delicious! Mango Cookie: What do you think? Holidays in the Tropical Soda Island* are pretty cool, right? Mango Cookie: Oh! How could I forget. I heard you eat cake for the holidays in the Cookie Kingdom. Mango Cookie: The Tropical Soda Islands also celebrate the holidays by having cake as dessert! Mango Cookie: Which is why I’ve brought… a Tropical Soda Islands-themed holiday cake! Sorbet Shark Cookie: oooO! O! OooOOOoO~ Mango Cookie: Wait, what? Oh! Did you bring a tropical holiday cake as well? Sorbet Shark Cookie: OoooO~OoooOooOO! Mango Cookie: Did you bring it so that we can all share it together? Sorbet Shark Cookie: OOOoO! Mango Cookie: You must be familiar with the Tropical Soda Islands! Thank you so much! Everyone, let’s all have cake! Tourist Cookies: Wow, that looks amazing! Thanks so much! Sorbet Shark Cookie: OooOoOOoO~

Cake! Cake! Cake!

Strawberry Cookie: Oh…? Hello, Carrot Cookie…! Carrot Cookie: Oh, it’s Strawberry Cookie! Are you going to GingerBrave’s holiday party later as well? Strawberry Cookie: Yup…! I even bought cake for everyone. Carrot Cookie: Oh?! You too? I bought cake as well! Carrot Cookie: I bought a big one so that we can share it with everyone! It’s even bigger than my giant crops! Whaddya think? Strawberry Cookie: Wow, it really is big…! Strawberry Cookie: Next to Carrot Cookie’s cake, the cake I brought looks so small…

Carrot Cookie: Oh, pfft. Okay, that’s not true! And besides, that doesn’t matter! Pancake Cookie: Whatcha doing here? I wanna play together too! Strawberry Cookie: Pancake Cookie! I met Carrot Cookie on my way from the cake shop… Pancake Cookie: Ooh, you got cake? I got cake too! Just got it right now! Eh he he! Strawberry Cookie: Pancake Cookie got cake too…?

Pancake Cookie: Yep! It’s a cute cake just like me! Do you like it?! Muscle Cookie: Look at my cake! Carrot Cookie: Muscle Cookie… brought… something sweet?! I thought you were avoiding sugar? Muscle Cookie: Not for me! It’s for the other Cookies!

Muscle Cookie: It’s custom-made! It’s big and heavy so that I can work out even on the way here! Strawberry Cookie: Everyone brought a cool cake… My cake… is kinda… small… Herb Cookie: Hello, everyone! Oh wow, you’ve all brought such wonderful cakes! Carrot Cookie: Herb Cookie! Did you get a cake for GingerBrave’s party as well? Pancake Cookie: Show us! Show us! Herb Cookie: I sure did! Take a look at this! Carrot Cookie: Hmm...? Muscle Cookie: It’s small! Pancake Cookie: It’s so cute!

Herb Cookie: Don’t you think it looks like a little baby sprout? Strawberry Cookie: Yes, it’s small but so cute! Herb Cookie: And Strawberry Cookie, your Cake is so pretty! I’m sure everyone is gonna love it! Strawberry Cookie: Oh… You really think so? Herb Cookie: Of course! Everyone is gonna be super happy! Carrot Cookie: I told ya! Strawberry Cookie, you picked it out for your friends! Strawberry Cookie: That’s right…! I hope everyone will like it! Pancake Cookie: Let’s go and eat it! Hurry! hurry!* HURRY!

*actual text

Muscle Cookie: Hmm, I think I can squeeze in 5 pus-up* sets and 10 squat sets! Maybe I’ll eat a Topping or two…

*actual text

Strawberry Cookie: Thanks everyone…! Strawberry Cookie: I want to help out preparing for the party, so I’m gonna start heading right now…! See you all later! Herb Cookie: See you at the party, Strawberry Cookie!

[heavensbeehall]

"The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes," Chapter 12

Part 2: The Prize

Chapter 12: Uh-oh! Emily was reading so much fanfic she forgot where she was in the actual book. Coriolanus is jealous of everyone who dares get near Lucy Gray. He hates Sejanus and Ma Plinth. Tigris comes and he's like, "What do you think that song was about? Is she really a whore?" They go home. Grandma'am is also awful. He writes about the fun of war. The next morning, Clemensia is still missing. He gives Lucy Gray his mother's compact and tells her to put rat poison in it.

Quotes:

His girl. His. Here in the Capitol, it was a given that Lucy Gray belonged to him, as if she’d had no life before her name was called out at the reaping. Even that sanctimonious Sejanus believed she was something he could trade for. If that wasn’t ownership, what was?

Oh gross. Now I remember why I didn't want to keep reading.

“One hearing’s all my cousin Maude Ivory needs. That child never forgets anything with a tune,” said Lucy Gray.

If Maude Ivory was Katniss's grandma, do we think her dad had a Covey name? With a color?

Just like those Peacekeepers back in 12. Coriolanus couldn’t help wondering just how friendly she could be.

Coriolanus thinks she's fucking the Peacekeepers in the Capitol and 12.

Sejanus appeared, in another brand-new suit, with a rumpled little woman in an expensive flowered dress on his arm. It didn’t matter. You could put a turnip in a ball gown and it would still beg to be mashed.

Now I am just quoting all the awful stuff he thinks. But also I have never had mashed turnips? Why not say potato?

Tigris’s rebuke shocked him, but less than her alluding to behavior that might be considered a disgrace. What had she done? Because if she’d done it, she’d done it to protect him. He thought about the morning of the reaping, when he’d casually wondered what she had to trade in the black market, but he’d never really taken that seriously. Or hadn’t he? Would he have just preferred not to know what sacrifices she might be willing to make for him? Her comment was vague enough, and so many things were beneath a Snow, that he could say, as she had of Lucy Gray’s song, “Well, that could be anything.” Did he want to know the details? No. The truth was he did not.

So here's the thing about this: I think he doesn't want to know because then he would feel indebted to her, and he can't stand that. But... he is indebted to her. I know family is family and it's not the same as if some random stranger did it, but she gave up going to university so she could work to support him. I don't think he needs to pay her back or anything but he should be more... not grateful necessarily but just aware of what it took to get him here. He may think he just "deserves" all this (and that's a whole other issue) but it wasn't just given to him. She had to sacrifice.

That our ancestral home has gotten too large?

It's a dumb apartment, you weirdo. That is hooie! He bought this place in the 80s! /ben blanc

“The trouble with girls is, they’re not used to fighting the same way boys are,” said Hilarius. The Heavensbees were ultrarich, the way the Snows had been before the war. But no matter his advantages, Hilarius always seemed to feel oppressed.

I wonder if this sense of oppression made its way to Plutarch somehow and made him want to fight.

“The thing is,” Lysistrata whispered to Coriolanus, “I’ve become rather attached to Jessup.” She paused a moment, arranging the wrapping on a chunk of baked noodles and cheese. “He did save my life.” Coriolanus wondered what Lysistrata, who had been closer to him than anyone else in the arena, had seen when the bombs went off. Had she seen Lucy Gray save him? Was she hinting at that?

Okay here's the part where I begin to piss off the Snowbaird shippers. I think Lysistrata has more genuine feeling for Jessup than Snow does for Lucy Gray. I don't think it's romantic, but I do think it's more the appropriate reaction given the circumstances. Snow is all about ownership. I wish Lysistrata did see Lucy Gray save Snow and told everyone so he couldn't pretend it didn't happen.