#Rusty Rally

[woozi]

WOOZI on SEVENTEEN winning Artist Of The Year in MAMA 2024

[papierboa]

do not spend 8 hours learning how to model and rig in blender oh my god kill me

[bf-rally]

Quick Update!

I added a bunch of emotes to the site. Now when you interact with the bfs there should a little pic of their silly faces with their dialogue!

(gimmicky guys like joey wont have these tho sorry ^^')

[cerisesparadise]

this one's for you — lee heeseung

pairing - basketball captain!heeseung x supportive girlfriend!reader

genre - fluff, established relationship, university au, sports au

warnings - rivalry (it's just friendly competition between enhadream though lol), mentions of kisses - lmk if there's more!

wc - 1.7k

sypnosis - In the midst of a fierce rivalry between two universities, Decelis Academy of Excellion faces off against NCIT - Neo Culture Insititute of Technology - in a championship game. As tension builds on the court, his girlfriend’s unwavering support becomes his secret weapon

mentions - nct dream as the opposing basketball team (my engene czennie heart <3)

a/n - hi!! i'm cerise!! i wrote this because i was scrolling through tiktok and saw clips of movies like "she's dating the gangster" and "high school musical", so ofc, the first person to come into mind was heeseung. though this isn't the first time i've written something, it is the first post on this blog (i'm so rusty- i apologise :') ). so here's to my first post - hope you enjoy reading!

also- i know heeseung's jersey in the header pic says 11 but for the sake of the story pls pretend it's 01 </3 | bookshelf

The atmosphere in the arena is electric, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Tonight, Decelis Academy of Excellion is facing off against their long-time rivals, NCT Dream from the Neo Culture Institute of Technology. This isn’t just any game; it’s the championship finals, a battle that both teams have been gearing up for all season. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the entire university has turned out to show their support.

You sit among the packed bleachers, the air thick with school spirit as students wave banners and shout team chants. It’s a sea of blue and white, the colours of Decelis Academy, and you can feel the pride radiating from every corner of the gym. As the clock ticks down to game time, the anticipation grows, every heartbeat syncing with the excited chatter around you.

Down on the court, Heeseung, the captain of your university's basketball team, Enhypen, is warming up. He’s the embodiment of focus and determination, his eyes scanning the court while he practises his shots. You can’t help but admire him — the way he commands the game, the way he leads his teammates with both skill and charisma. But tonight is different; it’s not just a regular match. This is a culmination of years of rivalry, and the pressure is palpable.

As the lights dim and the spotlight shines down, the announcer’s voice booms through the gym, introducing the teams. The crowd erupts in cheers as Heeseung and his teammates take the court, and you can see the camaraderie among them, the bond forged through countless hours of practice and shared goals.

You pull Heeseung's oversized varsity jacket tighter around yourself, the warmth and scent of his cologne comforting. It’s your way of feeling connected to him, even as he prepares to lead his team into battle against NCT Dream. You watch him with pride, knowing that this game is more than just a championship; it’s a chance to establish Decelis Academy as the reigning champion over their rivals.

As the game unfolds, the tension builds with every point scored. Heeseung’s skill is undeniable; he moves fluidly, orchestrating plays and rallying his teammates. The score is neck and neck, and with each possession, you can feel your heart racing alongside the crowd.

With only two minutes left in the game, the score is tied, and the tension is at its peak. You can’t help but bite your lip, every second feeling like an eternity. Suddenly, Heeseung catches your eye. You can tell he’s feeling the pressure, but then, as he glances your way again, he does something unexpected.

He taps his chest twice, subtly, then points at you. You don’t realise what he’s doing at first, but then he mouths something, clear even from across the court: “This one’s for you.” 

Your breath catches. Before you can process it, Heeseung is back in motion, his body moving like it’s running on pure instinct. Flashes of memories flood his mind, reminding him why he fights so hard for this victory.

He remembers those late night practices, standing alone on the court as the gym echoed with the sound of his dribbling. Suddenly, he hears a familiar voice. “Come on, Hee! Just one more shot!” It’s you, sitting on the bleachers with a smile that lights up the dark gym. You’ve been there every night, keeping him company and offering encouragement even when he’s exhausted.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, shaking his head, and with renewed determination, he sinks the next shot effortlessly. Your applause echoes in his mind, pushing him forward.

The day before the championship, Heeseung had been a bundle of nerves, pacing in his room. You sat next to him, holding his hands and looking him in the eye. “You’ve worked so hard for this. Just remember, win or lose, I’m proud of you, Heeseung.” you said softly.

His heart swelled at your words, grounding him in the moment. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make you proud,” he promised, and in that instant, he believed he could conquer anything.

He remembers a time when he had been feeling down after a particularly tough loss. You surprised him with his favourite snacks, setting up a little picnic on the bleachers. “You know what? You’re still my number 1, no matter what. That’s your jersey number for a reason, Hee.” you said, your eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Really?” he asked, his heart lifting at your words.

“Absolutely! And besides, I’m always here to support you,” you assured him, and he couldn’t help but smile at how lucky he was.

Then there was that one practice where he felt like he just couldn’t hit a shot. Frustrated, he threw the ball down, running a hand through his hair. You stepped in close, your expression sympathetic. “Hey, even the best have off days. Remember when you taught me to shoot? I thought I’d never get it!” You demonstrated a dramatic air ball, making him burst into laughter.

“You’re right,” he admitted, a smile creeping back, “But you eventually got it, didn’t you?”

“Exactly! And you’ll find your rhythm again. Just give it time,” you encouraged, and he felt the weight lift off his shoulders, renewed with confidence.

During practice, you had always cheered from the sidelines, celebrating even the smallest victories. “Yes! That’s it, Hee! You’re on fire!” The way you looked at him, full of pride ignited something else inside him. He wants to replicate that joy on the court tonight, not just for himself but for you.

The memory fades, and he focuses back on the court. The countdown begins, and he recalls your unwavering support, how you’ve always been his anchor.

On the court, players from both teams are moving in a flurry of motion. Heeseung calls out to his teammates, his voice cutting through the noise. “Jake, move to the left! Sunghoon, set the pick!”

“Got it!” Jake replies, darting into position while Sunghoon takes his place, ready to block an incoming defender.

The crowd roars as Heeseung manoeuvres through the opposing players, sweat beading on his forehead. He catches a glimpse of you in the stands, your eyes locked on him, radiating support. That glance fuels his determination even more.

“Stay focused!” Jungwon shouts from the perimeter, eyes scanning the court. “We need to take control of this game! Make every second count!”

“Let’s go, Decelis!” the crowd chants, the rhythmic clapping reverberating through the arena.

As the game continues, Dream counters aggressively. A tall defender lunges at Heeseung, trying to steal the ball. “You think you can get past me, Captain?” Jisung taunts, grinning.

Heeseung smirks back. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Park!”

He swiftly dribbles around him, passing the ball to Jay, who quickly takes a shot from the three-point line. The ball sails through the air, but the tension rises as it bounces off the rim.

“Get the rebound!” Heeseung yells, sprinting toward the basket.

Riki is there, leaping high to grab the ball before it falls. “I got it!” he shouts, landing solidly and passing it back to Heeseung, who is now at the three-point arc.

“Take it, Hee!” Sunoo calls, eyes wide with anticipation.

With the clock ticking down, Heeseung feels the pressure mounting. He glances at the scoreboard, then back at you. He taps his chest twice and points at you, mouthing the words “This one’s for you.”, dedicating the victory shot to you. He breathes deeply and launches the ball just as the buzzer sounds, the world around him fading to silence.

The ball arcs through the air, time slowing as it nears the hoop. Heeseung holds his breath, and for a moment, the entire gym is silent, every eye glued to the ball.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Jake whispers, his hands clenched.

Suddenly, the ball swishes through the net, and the arena erupts into a symphony of cheers. Heeseung pumps his fist in the air, a triumphant smile breaking across his face as his teammates rush to celebrate with him.

“Let’s go! We did it!” Jungwon shouts, engulfing Heeseung in a hug.

“That was the cleanest shot ever!” Riki exclaims, high fiving him.

“I told you he’d make it!” Sunghoon laughs, slapping Heeseung on the back.

As the crowd continues to roar, Heeseung looks over to the stands, where you're beaming with pride. The moment feels surreal; he knows this victory is as much yours as it is his. You leap from your seat, your heart racing as you push through the flood of fans and teammates, your eyes locked on Heeseung.

“HEESEUNG!!” you shout, your voice nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. Adrenaline fueled your every step as you sprinted towards him.

In an instant, you’re in his arms, jumping into him as he catches you effortlessly. The world around you fades as you both laugh, your heart soaring with pride and love. He spins you around, and as blue and white confetti begins to rain down from above, it feels like a scene from a fairytale.

“I can’t believe you did it!” you exclaim, breathless and beaming.

“Thank you for believing in me,” Heeseung replies, his voice warm and sincere. “I couldn’t have done it without you, babe.”

With a quick glance around, he pulls you in closer, leaning down to capture your lips in a victorious kiss. The moment is electric, the soft flutter of confetti swirling around you adding to the magic. It drifts through the air like tiny stars, each flake catching the light and highlighting the joy of the moment.

“Get a room, you two!” Jake shouts playfully, laughing as he joins the cheering crowd.

“Captain’s got a new strategy – distract the opponent with romance!” Sunghoon jokes, earning a chorus of laughter from the team.

As the teasing continues, Heeseung pulls back slightly, still holding you tight, his forehead resting against yours. The blue and white confetti dances around you, settling on your hair and shoulders, but all you can focus on is the warmth in his eyes.

“Let’s celebrate together,” he says, eyes sparkling with happiness. The energy of the crowd only amplifies the warmth between you, solidifying this victory as one you’ll both cherish forever. 

© cerisesheaven — please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my works. thank you angel!

[amyzworldds]

Part Three: Shattered Roads

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Alt Ending

Y/N’s solo debut prep silences Seventeen’s dorm, the boys clinging to her cardboard cutout—until a devastating car accident lands her in a coma. Torn between tour duties and despair, they rally for her recovery. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor, Angst

Weeks had bled into a haze, and Y/N still hadn’t woken. Before the crash, Seventeen was mid-world tour, a whirlwind of stages and screams, with a month-long break planned before the Asia leg. Y/N had seized that gap to finish her solo debut, sy/ncing her promo with their return to the road. But the accident shattered everything—her coma stretched on, and the boys faced a gut-wrenching reality: the tour couldn’t stop. Fans had paid, venues were booked, and the machine of K-pop churned on, merciless.

At the airport, they shuffled through the crowd, a lifeless procession of hoodies and hats. Seungcheol led, eyes hollow, jaw tight. Carats waved signs—“We love you!” “Fighting!”—but the boys’ smiles were plastic, rehearsed. They’d visited Y/N that morning, a ritual now—her hospital room a shrine of their guilt and hope. Her parents were there too, taking shifts, but the boys still came, talking to her still form, singing off-key just to fill the silence. “Y/N-ah, you’d hate this quiet,” Seungcheol had murmured, squeezing her hand. “Wake up and yell at us, okay?”

DK had knelt by her bed, voice cracking, “We’re leaving for tour… don’t be mad we’re not here. We’ll be back fast.”

Hoshi lingered, staring at her bandaged head. “Your standee’s mocking us at home. I’d trade it for you in a heartbeat.”

Wonwoo adjusted her blanket, whispering, “Rest up… we need you back…”

Jun patted her arm, faint smile fading, “No pranks ‘til you’re here to laugh…”

Minghao traced her hand, voice soft, “Dance battle’s on hold—don’t forget…”

On the plane, the usual chaos was dead. No Y/N bouncing down the aisle, chattering—“Hoshi oppa, stop hogging the snacks!” or “Dino-yah, let’s film a tiktok!” Just silence, broken by the hum of engines. Seungcheol stared out the window, replaying her scream. Jeonghan clutched a pillow, eyes red. Vernon scrolled his phone, avoiding crash pics still circulating online. They were ghosts, bracing to fake it for millions.

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Two countries down—Singapore, Jakarta—and they’d pulled it off. On stage, they smiled, danced, laughed, feeding Carats the energy they craved. Offstage, they collapsed, calling Y/N’s parents daily. “Any change?” Seungcheol would ask, voice tight.

“Still sleeping,” her mom would say, gentle but heavy. “She’s stable… just waiting.”

DK cried after every call, “She’s missing this—she’d love these crowds…”

Seungkwan nodded, wiping tears, “We’re half a group without her noise…”

Mingyu stared at his phone, her Weverse kimbap post still pinned. “I’d kill to hear her nag me again…”

Wonwoo pushed his glasses up, voice low, “She’d hate us being this quiet…”

Jun fidgeted, “I keep expecting her to jump out, yelling ‘Gotcha!’…”

Minghao sighed, “She’s the pulse… this feels wrong…” They soldiered on, but each show carved deeper into their hollow shells.

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At the hospital, weeks had stacked into a gray blur. Then, one quiet afternoon, Y/N stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, the harsh light stabbing. She squinted, head throbbing, the room spinning into focus—white walls, beeping machines, flowers wilting by the bed. Her mind was a fog—flashes of headlights, a scream, the crash. Nothing else. “W-Where… what day is it?” she croaked, voice rusty.

The door creaked, and her mom stepped in, freezing. “Y/N?!” She dropped her bag, rushing over, tears spilling as she hugged her. “Oh my God, you’re awake—you’re awake!”

Her dad bolted out, shouting, “Doctor! She’s up!” Nurses and doctors swarmed, checking vitals, shining lights in her eyes. “She’s stable,” one said, smiling. “Needs rest, but she’s out of the woods—can leave soon.” The head bandage was gone, just bruises and a faint scar left.

Her mom sobbed, stroking her hair. “We were so scared… the boys too—they’ve been here every chance, wrecked. Especially Seungcheol—he still blames himself, even though we told him it’s not his fault.”

Y/N managed a weak laugh, throat dry. “Dorks… all of them. Cheol oppa’s probably crying into his apron still.” She paused, eyes lighting up. “Mom, don’t tell them I’m awake. I wanna surprise those idiots—they deserve a shock after all this.”

Her mom chuckled through tears, nodding. “You’re evil… fine, my lips are sealed.” She texted Manager Kim instead—“Y/N’s awake, don’t tell the boys—she wants to surprise them.” Kim grinned at his phone, replying, “She’s back—oh, they’re gonna lose it.”

Her dad squeezed her hand, teary but smiling. “You scared us, kid. Rest up—your oppas are gonna need oxygen when you pull this off.”

Y/N smirked, sinking into the pillows, already plotting. The tour trudged on without her, but she was awake—and ready to reclaim her chaos crown.

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Weeks had passed since Y/N woke from her coma, and though she wasn’t fully recovered—still a bit wobbly, head tender—she was back to her scheming self. The boys remained in the dark, slogging through their tour, and she wasn’t about to let them off easy. “Sorry, oppas, you’ll suffer a little longer—it’s me, Y/N, deal with it,” she muttered to herself, smirking in her hospital room. She’d been resting, regaining strength, and plotting a comeback that’d knock their socks off.

One afternoon, she cornered her doctor, eyes gleaming. “Doc, can I dance yet? Sing? I need to know—I’ve got plans!”

The doctor chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “No dancing—not yet, your body’s still healing. But singing? Go for it, just don’t push too hard.” Y/N grinned, clapping weakly. As a thank-you to the nurses and doctors who’d nursed her back from the brink, she staged a mini-concert right there in her private room. Propped on her bed, she belted one of her album tracks—voice a little raspy but alive—nurses tearing up, doctors swaying. “No posting this, okay?” she winked, mid-note. “It’s a secret—I’m cooking something big!” They nodded, charmed, pocketing their phones as she finished with a dramatic bow, nearly toppling off the bed.

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Meanwhile, Seventeen trudged through their final tour leg, a robotic parade of forced smiles and lifeless steps. On stage, they dazzled Carats—Seungcheol’s dimples flashing, Hoshi’s tiger roars echoing—but backstage, they flopped onto couches like deflated balloons, texting Y/N’s mom for updates. “Still not awake,” her reply buzzed back, same as always.

DK groaned, sprawling across Mingyu. “It’s been months—how’s she still out? Is she Sleeping Beauty now?!”

Seungkwan snorted, though his eyes were red. “Yeah, waiting for her prince to kiss her awake—maybe we should send San.”

“Hey!” Hoshi yelped, tossing a water bottle at him. “I’d wake her with my tiger charm, but she’d just yell at me for drooling on her!”

Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, voice low, “She’s tougher than Sleeping Beauty… but it’s too long…”

Vernon slumped, staring at the ceiling, “I keep thinking she’ll barge in, yelling about my messy bunk…”

Minghao fidgeted with his rings, muttering, “She’d hate this quiet… it’s not her…”

Seungcheol forced a laugh, hollow. “Maybe she’s faking it—testing how long we’ll cry before she jumps us.” They chuckled, but the fear lingered, gnawing deeper with every show.

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Unbeknownst to them, Y/N was orchestrating a masterpiece. Fully discharged but still on the down-low, she’d called Manager Kim, voice brimming with glee. “Oppa, I’ve got a plan—huge surprise, for the boys and Carats! Can we pull it off at their last show?”

“What now, you gremlin?” Kim laughed, already hooked.

“Okay, listen—we fake a technical glitch mid-concert, stop their performance. I hide in a room, lights go out, boys get ushered offstage. Then I sneak on, lights stay off, and I sing a song from my album—boom, surprise! They’ll lose their minds!”

Kim cackled, “You’re evil—I love it. Let’s do it.”

Now, at the final concert venue, Y/N sat in a tucked-away room, makeup artist dabbing at her face, stylist fussing with her outfit—a sparkly number that screamed “I’m back, losers!” She was still a little shaky, but her spirit was ablaze. “They’re gonna cry harder than when they thought I ditched them,” she snickered, peering at her reflection. “Perfect—time to ruin their day in the best way.”

Her makeup artist grinned, “They’ve got no clue—you’re a menace.”

“It’s my love language,” Y/N shot back, stretching her voice with a soft hum. She waited for her cue—two songs from the end—heart pounding with mischief. The boys, oblivious robots on stage, had no idea their Sleeping Beauty was about to wake up and wreck their world.

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The boys was mid-“Super” performance, tearing up the stage—Seungcheol belting, Hoshi roaring, Mingyu flexing —when the music screeched to a halt. Lights snapped off, plunging the arena into dark chaos. Carats gasped, the boys froze mid-step, and confusion erupted.

“What the—?!” Seungcheol barked, spinning around. “Did the sound guy fall asleep?!”

“Hyung, what’s happening?!” DK yelped, clutching Mingyu’s arm. “Are the lights gonna spark? What if the stage catches fire?! Carats are out there!”

“Calm down, it’s not a disaster movie!” Mingyu hissed, though he looked spooked too. “But seriously, what’s up? Are we cursed now?!”

A staff member bolted onstage, flustered, whispering to Seungcheol, “Technical glitch—backstage, now!” His panic was contagious, and the boys stumbled off, muttering.

“Technical glitch my foot!” Hoshi grumbled, tripping over a cable. “This better not be Hoshi sabotage—I’m too pretty to die in a spark shower!”

Backstage, they piled into a room, sweaty and jittery. “Okay, someone explain!” Seungcheol snapped, pacing like a caged lion. “What’s broken? The fans—Carats—what happens to them?!”

DK flopped onto a couch, dramatic. “First Y/N, now this? The universe hates us!”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Jun muttered, half-serious. “She’s punishing us from her coma…”

“Don’t say that!” Seungkwan whacked him, eyes wide. “She’s just sleeping—don’t jinx it!”

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Meanwhile, in a hidden room, Y/N was a one-woman hurricane—twirling in her sparkly pink cocktail dress, chaotically “dancing” to no music. Manager Kim grabbed her shoulders, “Y/N, sit down! You’re still recovering—doctor said no dancing!”

She cackled, spinning out of his grip. “Relax, oppa! I could dance Maestro backward and Aju Nice upside down! I’m back—deal with it!”

“You’re a menace,” Kim groaned, throwing up his hands. “Fine, but if you collapse, I’m not carrying you!”

“Pfft, I’d make you anyway,” she shot back, winking. A staff member peeked in, signaling—showtime. Y/N tiptoed out, giggling, “Time to ruin their night—let’s go!” The hall was pitch-black, staff bustling onstage “fixing” things, Carats whispering in confusion. Y/N slipped into position—center stage, mic in hand—unseen, a pink shadow in the dark.

A minute ticked by, staff scurried off, and then—her song kicked in, soft and haunting from her album. She sang, voice ringing clear, and the lights flared up, spotlight pinning her in all her glittery glory. Carats lost it—screams shook the roof, “Y/N! Y/N!” echoing like a tidal wave.

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Backstage, the boys were a mess. Seungcheol ranted, “These technicians—do they even test stuff?! We’re mid-tour, and now we’re stuck in a blackout—Carats deserve better!”

“Coups, chill,” Joshua tried, but Seungcheol spun on him.

“Chill?! What if this cuts the show short? Fans paid for this!”

Minghao slumped, “Maybe it’s just bad wiring… or Y/N’s ghost…”

“She’s not a ghost!” Wonwoo snapped, glasses slipping. “But yeah, this sucks…”

Then—the screams hit. Not panic—pure joy. The boys froze as “Y/N! Y/N!” chants roared through the walls, followed by her voice—live, singing her solo track. Seungcheol stopped pacing, “Wait… that’s—?!”

DK bolted upright, “Her song?! Is this a prank?!”

Hoshi peeked out the door—no one there. “That’s her voice—live! She’s here?!”

They locked eyes, disbelief morphing to glee. “She’s awake!” Seungkwan shrieked, and they tore out, sprinting to the stage like kids on sugar.

There she was—Y/N, mid-stage, pink dress twinkling, belting her heart out. Smiles cracked their faces, and restraint vanished. Hoshi led the charge, “Y/N-IE!”—and they swarmed her, a 13-man pile-on. The mic flew from her hand, clattering as she laughed, buried under hugs.

“You’re back! You’re alive!” DK wailed, squeezing her like a teddy bear.

“Our princess—our chaos queen!” Seungkwan yelled, jumping.

“I knew you’d wake up!” Mingyu sobbed, nearly lifting her off the ground.

“Never scare us like that again!” Seungcheol roared, ruffling her hair, tears streaking.

Wonwoo grinned, glasses fogged, “You owe me a book talk—don’t forget!”

Jun laughed, “Prank’s on us now, huh? You win!”

Minghao spun her gently, “Dance battle’s back on—you’re mine!”

Y/N shoved them off, cackling, snatching her mic. “Eww, get off me, you sweaty dorks! I’m a princess—can’t you see I’m mid-concert?! You’re crashing my stage like sasaengs—out!” She waved them away, dramatic, but her grin was pure sunshine.

“Crashing?!” Hoshi yelped, clutching her arm. “We’re your VIPs! We’re staying!”

“Yeah, good luck kicking us off!” Dino taunted, hopping around her.

“You’re back—that’s all that matters!” Vernon laughed, filming the chaos.

“I’ll allow it,” she smirked, then faced the crowd, “Carats, say hi to my annoying members—they missed me too much to stay away!” The arena erupted, fans screaming as the boys bounced like overexcited puppies.

“We’re never letting you out of sight again!” Jeonghan declared, slinging an arm around her.

“Try it—I’ll hide with 13 more standees!” she fired back, and they groaned, laughing.

The concert rolled on, Y/N finishing her song with 13 giddy shadows behind her, their chaos queen reclaimed—pink dress and all.

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Y/N barely got through her solo song before Seventeen turned it into a hug-fest. She’d belt a line—“I’m shining bright, oh yeah!”—and DK would snatch her into a bear hug, “You’re back, my sunshine!” She’d wiggle free, hit another note, only for Mingyu to swoop in, “Never leaving you again!”—lifting her off her feet. Seungkwan dove next, “My turn, you pink gremlin!”—and she’d screech, “Let me sing, you dorks!” The mic became a hot potato, bouncing between her and the floor as Carats howled with laughter.

The staff finally intervened, rushing onstage like zookeepers. “Y/N, off—now!” one barked, grabbing her arm. “Doctor’s orders—no overdoing it!”

“What?! I’m fine!” she protested, flailing as they dragged her off. “I just sang three lines—let me live!”

Manager Kim loomed backstage, arms crossed, “You just got out of a coma—no dancing, no chaos! You’re watching, not performing!”

“Boo, you’re no fun!” Y/N pouted, plopping onto a chair, legs kicking. “Fine, let the boys sweat it out—I’ll be the princess in the back!”

The boys took the stage, powering through their set—Super, Clap, Hot—sweat flying, smiles plastered for Carats. Y/N watched, smirking, plotting. “They think I’m done? Cute,” she muttered, eyeing the encore like a hawk.

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The final encore hit—Aju Nice—and the boys were jumps, Carats waving lightsticks, when Y/N decided rules were optional. She bolted from backstage, pink dress glittering, and leapt onto the stage like a caffeinated bunny. “Surprise, losers—I’m back!” she yelled, jumping, spinning, and running laps around them.

Seungcheol’s jaw dropped, “Y/N, what are you doing?! Sit down!” He lunged to grab her, but she dodged, cackling.

“No way, Cheol-oppa—I’m alive, let me jump!” She hopped like a kangaroo, mic in hand, belting off-key, “Oneul nan maryaaAaaAA!!!

DK flailed, “You’re gonna collapse! Stop it!” He chased her, arms out, but she zigzagged, giggling.

“Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” she taunted, darting past Mingyu, who yelped, “Y/N-ah, the doctor’s gonna kill us!”

Woozi groaned, still singing, “Someone get her—she’s a liability!”

But Hoshi? Hoshi was her chaos soulmate. He grinned, “That’s my girl—let’s go!” He joined her, leaping like a tiger on a trampoline, “Jump with me, Y/N-ie!”

“Hoshi oppa, you’re the best!” she cheered, and they bounced together, a pink tornado of madness. Carats screamed louder, loving the anarchy.

Seungcheol roared, “Hoshi, don’t encourage her! She’s fragile!”

“Fragile?!” Y/N spun, mock-offended. “I survived a car flip—I’m invincible! Watch this!” She attempted a backflip, wobbled, and Jun caught her mid-stumble, “Nice try, princess—stick to jumping!”

“I’m helping!” Hoshi argued, hopping beside her. “She’s happier this way!”

Minghao sighed, “You’re both gonna end up in casts…”—but he couldn’t hide his grin.

Vernon filmed, laughing, “This is gold—Y/N’s back, and we’re doomed!”

Seungkwan tackled her into a hug, “Stop moving, you pink disaster—I missed you too much to lose you again!”

“Get off, I’m mid-performance!” she squawked, shoving him, only for Joshua to scoop her up, “Time out, chaos queen—sing, don’t sprint!”

“Put me down, Shua-oppa—I’m the encore star!” she flailed, kicking, as Wonwoo chuckled, “You’re starring in a hospital sequel if you keep this up!”

The staff hovered, panicked, but Manager Kim threw up his hands backstage, “She’s unstoppable—let her have it!”

Y/N broke free, grabbed her mic, and belted the final note—“Oneul nan maryaAa!!!”—jumping one last time before collapsing into Hoshi’s arms, laughing. “Told you I’m fine!”

“You’re insane!” Seungcheol yelled, but his smile betrayed him as they swarmed her again, a sweaty, giggling mess.

Carats chanted her name, the boys half-scolding, half-celebrating, and Hoshi high-fived her, “Best encore ever—let’s do it again tomorrow!”

“Over my dead body!” Kim shouted from the wings, and Y/N just winked, “Too late, oppa—I’m back!”

[hwonnrinji]

the school is getting on my nerves. we don't need a sports rally on a random wednesday next week, we alr had one last week. that's 2 in a month. STOP THE MADNESS. the dance team and student union had ENOUGH of ts. the dance team have other choreos to go over and we cannot fit another one into our schedule unless you want 28 high shoolers to jump yo ahh. the multimedia building is getting on my nerves too like WE GET IT. YALL BROKIES NEED MONEY. the photographers need to chill and the video production team needs to sit tf down. yall pmo TEW MUCH. yall better stop before i tell the treasurer to cut all funds and you can sit on rusty desks instead of your perfect little chairs while we deal with the broken ones 😡.

[sosoribro]

when stupid white trainboy with hair bigger than his head finally arrives in the mail

this is my brain every time rusty rallies up the audience during 'crazy'

[traintrainingmontage]

Congrats on the 150!! Of course this means I gotta suggest a prompt for Rusty and Stepheny >:] I was thinking something along the lines of the 2 being buddies and hanging out like the peepaw and grandkid we've mentioned on discord! But obviously feel free to shake things up as the dealer!

YAAAAY thank you so much, Aster!! Rusty and Stepney are two of my faves, so I am MORE than happy to write about them! This one ended up being my absolute favorite ficlet to write thus far.

We're going to do a human!AU for this one! I am giving Stepney a unique speech pattern for this one, so I apologize in advance if it doesn't match up to what accent/speech pattern he would actually have!

(My inbox is starting to get low! If you have a prompt idea, please feel free to send it in. Details are here!)

Rusty's phone went off with a buzz, causing him to blearily lift his head from the pillow, then groan when he saw what time it was. However, it wasn't the incessant whining of their alarm that had awoken them, as they dimly realized; instead, it had been their message tone, which revealed that he'd received a new text.

Rusty quirked an eyebrow, curiosity waking him up faster than caffeine might. Who in the world was sending texts this early? Not even Skarloey and Rheneas, the oldest people in his apartment building, sent texts before 9:00 AM.

As he opened the message and read it over, the last vestiges of sleep disappeared as if by magic, replaced by a growing excitement.

"Hello Rusty!" the message read. "I'm Gonna Be In Your Neck Of The Woods Next Weekend For Work, And Thought It'd Be Nice To Catch Up If You've Got Time! There's Supposed T' Be A Carnival Happening Too, So Lemme Know If You'd Be Up!! (Down?)"

":-)"

Rusty couldn't stop themself from grinning as they texted out their reply. "Hi Gramps! Yeah, I'll be free. We can meet up by the big fountain in the middle of Crovan's Gate around 10. It'll be great to see you! 😄"

With that, Rusty set about clearing their calendar, already buzzing with excitement at the thought of getting to see his Gramps again. His visits were few and far between, but when they did happen, they were always a treat.

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

Next weekend found Rusty in a comfortable black hoodie, well-loved jeans, and sneakers, waiting by the Crovan's Gate fountain and idly playing with their hijab. They were keeping an eye on the crowd, waiting for their Gramps, when suddenly, a familiar figure caught his attention.

Evidently, they'd caught his too, because Thomas, clad in a windbreaker and sweatpants, came barreling up to him with clear indignation written all over his face. "Rusty?! What the heck! You said that you wouldn't be online today, but you're just out here hanging out!"

Rusty shot Thomas a rather unimpressed look. "Hi, Thomas," they replied, the words almost viscous with sarcasm. "Nice to see you too."

Thomas deflated a bit at the pointed greeting, but then rallied, slightly shaking the grocery bag he was holding (he'd doubtless been sent to pick up some things for Edward, if Rusty had to guess). "Yeah, well, what's so important that you're skipping out on the weekly guild raid?"

This time, Rusty rolled their eyes; Thomas was a good friend, but he never did well when personal inconvenience was involved. "I'm meeting someone today. My Gramps is going to be in the area, and I always try to see him when I can."

Thomas quirked an eyebrow at that, clearly confused. "Your Gramps? I thought you didn't have any family around here."

Rusty shook his head, trying their hardest to push down their exasperation. "We're not blood-related or anything, but he's--"

"RUSTY! There y'are, lad!" A sunny greeting floated over to the two, and both Rusty and Thomas looked over to see an older gentleman in a bright yellow fedora with a green band, a long beige overcoat, and a white polo shirt and black slacks underneath. He also sported a thick, bushy mustache (with a small goatee) and aviator glasses, giving the pair a hearty wave.

"Gramps!" Rusty grinned, waving him over. "Gramps, this is my mate Thomas. Thomas, this is Stepney, but I call him Gramps."

"Dunstan Stepney, at yer service, lad!" the older man chortled, holding out a hand for Thomas to take. "But y'can call me Gramps too, if ya like."

"Um, thanks...?" Thomas questioned, adjusting his groceries so that he could give Stepney's hand a good shake. At Thomas's words, however, Stepney's eyes lit up.

"Ah, a fellow Brighton boy, eh? Never thought I'd see another so far from home!"

Rusty was a tad surprised by that; he'd never have guessed that Thomas was from that region, given how much his speech and mannerisms took after Edward's. That said, Rusty was even more surprised at the shadow that suddenly crossed his friend's face at Stepney's comment. "Yeah, well, y'have. But don't be blabbin' about it t' others, thanks."

Sensing that he might have caused offense somehow, Stepney held up his hands in mock surrender. "My lips are zipped, lad. All I meant was I can tell jus' by lookin' atcha that yer a hard worker who means well. Rusty's got a good friend indeed with you around."

"O-Oh," Thomas blinked, somewhat taken aback but appreciative of the compliment all the same. "Well, uh, thanks." A small, genuine smile crept across his face as he turned to look at Rusty. "You two have fun; we'll hang out later, I guess." With that, he made to leave, giving them both a wave.

"See ya 'round, lad!" Stepney called.

"Bye, Thomas!" Rusty waved back.

"He seems like a good sort. But now," the older man grinned, "shall we head for that carnival?"

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

"Dang it!" Rusty groaned, giving a forlorn look at the array of still-stacked milk bottles. He'd had five tries to knock them all down, yet hadn't managed even one! "Guess I'm just not cut out for this game."

"Aw, don't beat yerself up, Rusty," Stepney chuckled. "Maybe the ring toss'll do ya better."

The two headed over to a setup of glass pop bottles, where a sign proudly proclaimed that for three pounds, players had five tries to get the rings on the bottles. One ring earned a small prize, two rings a medium prize, and three rings a large prize. As they approached, a mother and her daughter were just starting to walk away from the booth empty-handed, a clear expression of dejection on the girl's face. "Alright, lad!" Stepney instructed, handing the bored-looking attendant a five-pound banknote. "It's all in the wrists. Give it your best!"

As Stepney pocketed his change, Rusty took the proffered rings, and flicked one toward the bottles. It clanked off the side, falling to the floor, and Rusty bit at their lip in concentration, determined to get the next one.

Despite Rusty's best efforts, however, five tosses had not yielded them any meaningful results, and all he could do was sigh in frustration as they turned away from the booth. "Sorry, Gramps. Now I REALLY know I'm not cut out for carnival games. Let's get---"

"WAHHHHHHH!"

A sharp cry drew both Stepney and Rusty's attention, and they looked over to see that the girl from earlier and her mother were now sitting at a nearby bench, the poor thing now bawling her eyes out and pointing to the booth. "But I WANT the big bear!" she wept, and Rusty and Stepney looked up to see that one of the large prize options was a large brown teddy bear with a bright yellow bow, perhaps as large as the girl herself.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," her mother soothed, "but it just wasn't meant to be. How about we go get an ice cream instead, hm?"

"NO! I want the BEAR!" the girl moaned, her tears even more bitter than before.

Rusty shook their head and sighed; it really was too bad, but it seemed like that poor mother had an uphill battle ahead of her. Stepney, however, seemed to have other ideas. With a small sigh and a resigned smile, the yellow-clad gentleman turned back to the booth attendant and drew out another three pounds. "One more go fer me please."

The attendant shrugged and handed Stepney the rings. "Now, watch closely, Rusty," his Gramps grinned. "It really is all in the wrists." With a careful flick, Stepney let the first ring fly. To Rusty's disbelieving eyes, it landed with a perfect clatter atop one of the many bottles.

"How did you do that?!" they exclaimed, not at all sure just how Stepney's technique could have differed from his own.

"Jus' takes practice. Had a lot of time for it while I was in th' Army."

Four more rings shot from his hands, and four more clinks could be heard as all five of Stepney's rings stood proudly atop the bottles.

The attendant, mouth agape, finally managed to ask what he wanted, and Stepney pointed to the bear, as well as one of the medium prizes, which happened to be a much more reasonably sized teddy bear with yellow-ish fur and a blue bow. The smaller bear was handed to Rusty with a wink, and before Rusty could get a word in edgewise, Stepney was already walking over to the girl and her mother, handing them the giant bear.

Rusty couldn't help but laugh at the earsplitting screams of delight which followed.

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

Once they had finished meandering around the carnival, Rusty and Stepney purchased some lunch and found a comfortable hillside to sit at while they ate. With hot sandwiches and warm tea in hand, it was the perfect time to relax. "Thank you for taking me out today, Gramps," Rusty smiled, polishing off the last of their meal and making sure that his bear was stain-free. "It was great fun."

"Hahaha, I'm glad you enjoyed, lad!" Stepney beamed. "It was just what I needed too." His good humor didn't last long, though, as a strange melancholy overtook him, one that Rusty wasn't particularly used to seeing from his Gramps. Dread suddenly pooled in his stomach, sensing that whatever Stepney had to say, it probably wouldn't be good. "I... I don't really know how to say it, but... this may be the last time I get t'see ya in a long while."

"What?" Rusty exclaimed, disbelief pouring out of that single word. "What do you mean, Gramps? What's going on?"

Stepney sighed, and somehow, the sound made him feel old, particularly given the way his body seemed to reflexively hunch in on itself. "I'm turning 65 this year, Rusty, and my body's not what it used to be. My joints are creaking, and my lungs aren't in good shape. The doctors say I may need to go in for surgery soon."

Stepney's eyes rose, staring up at the sunshine-lined clouds as they floated lazily by. His gaze, however, seemed to be looking at some point far away and long ago, beyond what Rusty could possibly see. "Before you rescued me from the streets in that bad part of Barrow, I was convinced there was nothin' left for me. I had no contact with my family, no home, and thugs lookin' to take what little I had. I was just a washed-up old man with nothin' left. Then you came along, helped get me some veterans' assistance, and now I have a job in Sheffield Park, promoting the Bluebell Railway.

"I'll forever be grateful to ya, lad, but... that doesn't change the fact that I'm old. My sister's close by, but she has her own life to live. I nev'r got married, I have no kids, and you're the closest thing I've got to a grankid. I jus'... I dunno. Dunno if goin' through surgery and all o' that's worth it. Maybe it's about time I just let things take their course."

"NO!" Rusty shouted, the volume uncharacteristic of him but with how emotional they were, it could only be considered understandable. "No! Please, Stepney! Don't give up! You love your job, and you're so much fun to be around. I love when you visit. I..."

There was a long pause as Rusty struggled to keep back tears, and a gentle hand came up to rub comforting circles into their shoulder, Stepney giving them a smile tinged with resignation. "Yer a good lad, Rusty. I'm so glad I metcha. But the occasional visits and texts aren't quite enough to keep th' loneliness away. I've led a good, long life, and I've done some bit of good in th'world. What's there to be upset about?"

Rusty sniffled, pulling some tissues out of their pocket and blowing their nose as Stepney pulled his hand away. "Well... what if I helped you find someone? Maybe you could give dating a try?"

"Hahahaha!" Stepney's course laughter was genuine, yet there was obvious disbelief lingering at the edges. "That's sweet o' ya, Rusty, but who'd be interested in an old man like me? I hate t' say it, but I'm not really interested in the company o' ladies, if ya catch my drift, and I doubt there's any gentleman out there who'd be interested either."

Rusty frowned, wanting to retort, but just then, a beep sounded from his phone. They pulled it out, shooting Stepney an apologetic glance, then looked it over and texted something back before putting it away. "Sorry about that. My neighbor asked where I was; he's just coming back from his job and wanted to drop something off."

"Oh, that's fine," Stepney reassured him, seemingly grateful for the change in subject. "You always have such nice things t'say 'bout the others in your building; it'll be nice to meet 'em."

Soon enough, a familiar face made his way up the hill, with Rusty giving him a wave of greeting. "Rheneas! Over here!"

Rheneas Fletcher, professor of physics at Furness College, was the quintessential definition of a silver fox. As he bounded up the hill in a button-up, vest, tweed pants, and dress shoes, clearly having attended some kind of lecturer's meeting, he waved back to Rusty, a calm smile on his face and a grocery bag gripped tightly in his hand. Between his short ponytail, streaked with streams of silver; horn rim glasses; and thin moustache, Rheneas was rumored to be an incredibly popular professor for a number of reasons.

Clearly, Stepney also thought so, given the way his eyes were transfixed upon the approaching gentleman.

"I brought back some cinnamon rolls from the meeting, enough for everyone in the building to have at least one," Rusty's neighbor explained, gesturing to the bag. "I can give you yours now, and one to this handsome stranger as well."

Rusty blinked, eyes suddenly jumping to Stepney, whose ears had gone slightly red at the compliment, and felt, deep in their bones, that the turning point had arrived.

"Rheneas," he interjected hastily, "this is Stepney, a friend of mine! He's amazing; he won me a prize at the carnival, he's been in the army, and he's got so many interesting stories! I bet you two would get on famously!"

Stepney paused, giving Rusty an unsure look, but clearly didn't want to leave Rheneas hanging. "Ah, well! Pleasure to meet you, Rheneas," he greeted, holding out a hand, and Rheneas took it, giving a firm handshake.

"A pleasure indeed. I would love to have dinner with you at some point, unless...?"

The words went unspoken, but even though Rusty lagged slightly on what he meant, Stepney understood immediately, and held up his left hand, showing that it was bare. "Ah, no conflicts of interest on my part. I would, ah, quite enjoy dinner with you some time."

"Excellent," Rheneas smiled warmly, and doled out a cinnamon roll to each of them before checking his watch and taking his leave, but not before exchanging numbers with Stepney.

"Well, Gramps," Rusty grinned in between bites of cinnamon goodness, "now that you've got a date, wouldn't you say there's something worth living for?"

Stepney shook his head, eyes disbelieving but a smile still on his face. "Well, it's a bit early t' say that, but... who knows. Maybe there's still some life in these ol' bones yet."

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 34

One more chapter and an epilogue <3 (this is a sad chapter)

The field lay in ruins. Corpses – their own and Hybern’s – were spread across the muddy plain. Arrows jutted from limbs, blood and gore soaked through each court’s uniforms so they were united in a rusty red. The soldiers from Hybern who hadn’t been quick enough to winnow away were being rounded up for questioning.

Azriel would take stock of it later. Would stop and measure the magnitude of what they had done once his mate was in his own arms.

He was barely holding himself together. Feyre offering him the memory of what she saw through the Cauldron’s power had nearly broken him. Only Rhysand’s hand clamping around his upper arm to follow him where he winnowed stopped Azriel from inciting further bloodshed.

Carranam.

It was unheard of. A bond so rare – so deadly in cases – that even mates weren’t prepared to try. How had Eris known that Nesta was his Carranam?

Not his. Never his.

The Autumn Court had no tents. They’d arrived too late, already in the thick of the fighting, to prepare them. Where was Eris?

Azriel’s breathing was a wet rasp. His wings screamed in protest with every moment. There were cuts on his body that needed seeing to, some more pressing than others. He’d broken ribs, gashed open his ear. None of it mattered. Not until Nesta was with him.

‘Can’t your shadows-’

‘They are searching for her,’ he ground out before Rhys could finish.

A number of the Vanserra brothers were already winnowing away their army back to their golden oak-covered lands. If Eris had dared to take Nesta... If he thought in some way that a Carranam bond meant more than a mating bond…

‘There,’ said Rhys gently. He pointed towards a clearing by the edge of the trees where Helion stood near Eris, blocking Azriel’s view.

Azriel forced his power to rally and winnowed them both to close the gap.

‘Get your hands off of her,’ Azriel snarled.

Nesta was unconscious in Eris’ arms. The flush upon her cheeks made his stomach knot. Golden light swirled around her body from Helion’s healing gifts.

‘She has delved too deeply into her power. And another’s,’ said Helion with a knowing look to Eris. ‘She will live, but her body is exhausted.’

Rhysand’s grip on his arm hurt. His high lord dug his fingers into Azriel’s skin like blunted blades to anchor himself.

‘Put. Her. Down.’

Eris gave an easy smile, one a snake might wear. ‘Nesta and I are Carranam. She will be returning to my court where she belongs.’

A shield shot between them – the violet edges a tell-tale sign that it belonged to Rhys.

‘Nesta belongs in the Night Court,’ his high lord stated.

Eris gestured to the cut across Nesta’s palm. Many had seen their display against the king. Whether others would realise that Eris had shared his power with Nesta was another headache to be solved later. All Azriel wanted was his mate in his own arms.

Azriel said through clenched teeth, ‘Did you have to cut her palm so deeply?’

Blood still dripped from it. Eris hadn’t bothered binding it. He’d hurt her. Ran a knife across her skin.

He was practically vibrating with anger. His mate had chosen to die. Had spent a night with him, knowing she would walk into the arms of death the next day. And she would have done it alone. She’d deceived them all to face the king. The image of her being thrown by his magic, the bruises on her face-

Her blood drip, drip, dripped onto the earth.

‘Az.’

‘Give me my fucking mate.’

The colour drained from Eris’ face at the shadows poised to strike him, shield or not. Even Helion stepped away, his magic recoiling with him. He felt the grip of Rhys on his arm release as Eris carefully lowered Nesta upon the soft grass too.

Azriel had one singular focus. He didn’t care for Rhysand’s words advising him not to be rash. Nor Helion’s advice about her magic.

The moment that he cradled Nesta into his arms, he winnowed back to the Town House.

This was the female he loved. The one he wanted to spend his whole life with.

And he was so fucking angry with her.

Fuck the Carranam bond. Nesta had laid in his arms, knowing she was going to wriggle away from the others and offer herself as a sacrifice. Did she think her life meant so little? That it could be easily thrown away?

Azriel wouldn’t live if she died. There could be no future without her.

Even with fury roaring in his blood, Azriel did his due diligence as her mate and stripped off her spoiled, blood-soaked leathers. Her knees were bruised and a nasty-looking one spread across her ribs. They had matching breaks then. He washed her hands first then bound the cut on her hand, tying it tight to cut off the flow. Nesta’s hair was darkened by blood, so he held her over the bath and did his best to wash it before cleaning the rest of her body.

His anger refused to soften even as he tucked her into bed and stroked her face. Azriel’s mind began to wander. Had she done it to get away from him? Was it a punishment because he’d gone to fight with damaged wings? Was Nesta trying to give him a taste of his own medicine?

Quick steps sounded down the corridor and Azriel braced himself for whoever it might be.

Rhysand loomed in the doorway.

‘Az, I need you back there.’

‘No.’

‘It is your duty to-’

‘No,’ he snarled. His thumb brushed against Nesta’s fingers. ‘I don’t care, Rhys. This is my most important duty. I will be at my mate’s side until she is well.’

Rhys’ shoulders slumped. There was blood and mud splattered up his face. ‘Az, we have a mountain to manage. Cass is heading to Illyria to let families of fallen soldiers know. I need to manage Hybern’s soldiers and speak with the other high lords. I need you.’

‘No.’

‘Feyre and Elain are going to burn their father’s body in lieu of a funeral. Nesta should be there.'

The burning anger inside of Azriel’s chest threatened to loosen itself on his high lord. ‘Can’t you fucking see she’s unconscious?’

Rhys stepped back, wariness widening his eyes. Slowly, he said, ‘I expect you at my side, Azriel.’

‘Don’t pull rank on me. If it was Feyre laying here, nobody would cleave you from her side. Do not expect me to desert my mate.’

For a short while longer, Rhysand lingered then departed with a wearied sigh. Any other time and Azriel would be right at his side. There were more important places for Azriel to be now.

Even when the others returned, late into the night, Azriel did not move from Nesta’s side. She remained unconscious, her breathing slow but even. He allowed Madja to enter the room and check her over. A nudge of her magic would help her to heal quicker. The others knew better than to invite him to join them downstairs where the most expensive barrels of wine had been brought out to celebrate. He was in no mood to celebrate. Azriel had almost lost everything.

For two days, Azriel remained steadfast beside his mate’s side. She stirred a handful of times, but remained deeply sleeping for most of it. He stole fragments of sleep whenever his head slumped for too long. His shadows turned traitor and instead of pricking him to keep him awake, they allowed him to rest for longer than he wanted. Nobody could move him from Nesta’s side: not Morrigan, as much as she pleaded; not Rhys or Feyre trying issue orders; and certainly not Lucien who had likely been sent in as a radical choice to offer information about Eris and the Continent as bait. Azriel would not be moved.

His anger softened. The sharp edges were rubbed smooth.

With every hour that ticked by, Azriel’s anger morphed into sorrow. He couldn’t imagine the burden that had been upon Nesta’s shoulders – the target that Hybern had painted on her back for protecting her sister. The fear that must have gripped her in those moments where she lured the king to her. She was selfless, reckless, and brave. Azriel stroked a length of her soft hair. As much as he despised Eris Vanserra, if the male hadn’t shown up then Nesta would be dead. He didn’t like to owe a debt to any, much less the Autumn Court heir – but when it came to Nesta, there was nothing that Azriel wouldn’t give, wouldn’t owe to protect her.

On the third night, she woke groggily, grasping at her throat. Carefully, Azriel trickled water onto Nesta’s tongue. She ended up drinking most of the jug before blinking heavily at him and settling back down onto the pillows, a hand clinging to him.

***

There were wounds inside of Nesta’s heart that she would never recover from. Her extended sleep had only worsened them. When she woke again, at the dawn, Azriel set to running a shallow bath for her and requesting food from the wraiths.

They went through the motions of him caring for her as she slowly settled back into her body. It felt foreign and wrong.

Nesta did not want to be here.

Not in this house.

Not with these people.

None of it.

For every invitation to join them for dinner, to drink with them in the lounge, Nesta refused. Azriel took her lead and acted as a buffer to her sisters’ requests even though he’d press her on the refusal. Nesta wouldn’t give him an answer. She couldn’t tell him that she hated herself. Hated how many lives she’d ended in the war with a stroke of her power. Hated that she was bound in some way to Eris and not wholly Azriel’s anymore. Hated closing her eyes and seeing the lights spark out from her father’s eyes as his neck was snapped. Hated to think that she could lose Azriel one day. It was better to close down and push him away. It would hurt less when she lost him if he hated her.

After a week of her hibernation, Azriel tried to tempt her outside. He offered the library which she refused and even a tea shop that she liked in Velaris, but she refuted that idea too. Each time that she rejected his ideas, Nesta saw his face fall a little more. She had to keep cracking him bit by bit then he’d realise she wasn’t worth his time. He’d find somebody better, somebody brighter, who could give him what Nesta couldn’t.

‘We’ve been in this room a long time,’ he said gently. Azriel reached to run a finger down her arm but Nesta moved from his path. Each night, he’d lay beside her in the bed but she’d toss his arm off repeatedly until he stopped trying.

‘And what is that meant to mean?’

He looked towards the window where twilight was settling in outside.

‘Fresh air might help.’

Nesta’s nostrils flared as she stood. She hauled the window open so that a strong wind blew in – and with it the promise of autumn arriving. ‘Fresh air.’

She hoped to see his eyes darken. For his siphons to pulse with warning so that she could have confirmation that she was pushing him to his limits. Nesta wanted Azriel far from someone like her.

He stood and closed the window, blocking off the howl of the wind. ‘You understand exactly what I mean.’

‘If you want fresh air then leave. Nobody has asked you to be at my side morning and night. It is unwanted.’

He had a way of emptying himself. Azriel kept his expression perfectly vacant. He was too difficult to read. Even his shadows sat still behind him.

‘I am here because I love you. Because I am your mate.’

‘I don’t want you here,’ she hissed.

‘Madja has agreed that you are well enough to try and use your magic again.’

‘I have no magic,’ she protested. It was a lie. It swirled and ached inside of her. Eris’ own magic had entered her body, scorching the veins in its wake. She was different because of it. Her magic thrashed at the sides of its cage, desperate to practise its new facets.

In an even voice, Azriel replied, ‘I will leave tonight, but you will have Elain or Feyre here in my stead.’

‘I didn’t realise I needed a nurse maid.’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Because I don’t know what you might do if you are alone.’

Nesta’s heart gave a sorrowful lurch. ‘Leave me alone.’

He did as she asked, but within a minute, perhaps less, Feyre entered her bedroom. Her sister’s presence was maybe worse than Azriel’s. He was at least content to let her sit in silence or read. Feyre did not stop with her never-ending stream of questions or narrations. She talked of their father, of the funeral where she turned his body to ash, and it took all of Nesta’s strength not to scream at her sister to be quiet.

And so it was.

If Azriel wasn’t occupying the chair in her room, it was Elain or Feyre. Nesta stopped responding to them. Stopped answering their questions. She only ate when Azriel loomed over her and threatened to feed her like an infant if she didn’t hold the fork herself.

The war had ruined her. Every day became harder and harder to push herself through.

When Feyre one day snatched her hand unexpectedly, Nesta had no time to ask what she was doing before they arrived in her favoured tea shop. Azriel was already there, her favourite tea brewed and waiting for her.

Nesta couldn’t give him hope. There was something rotten inside of her. It would ruin him if she let him in.

Like an insolent child, Nesta sat upon the chair opposite Azriel and refused to drink her tea. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him. She ignored his quiet utterings, pleading with her to drink. Ignored Feyre’s bubbly chatter. They had tried to ambush her – but Nesta was an unstoppable force of stubbornness. They would not find her malleable.

The further two attempts at integrating her back into society were as disastrous. One had been to swap her bed mate to Cassian who she had easily managed to grind down by making a grab for his wings multiple times until he relented and backed off. The second had been to bring the dinner to her room including all eight members of the household. From the wary expression that Azriel wore, she knew it had not been his idea to invade her personal space – and he was the one who ended it by ushering them all out.

‘I just want to help you,’ he said, the stress of the last three weeks beginning to weigh on him. There were bags beneath his eyes. On the nights that he stayed in her room, he no longer assumed a place in the bed. He’d bring a blanket to sleep on the floor or the chair, but he rarely slept. He had been harder to push away than Nesta thought. He was as stubborn as she was.

‘I do not want your help. I do not need it.’

‘Then what do you need?’ He pleaded.

To hurt him. To push him away for good, Nesta had to aim low at wounds that hadn’t healed for him.

‘I want Eris.’

The words landed. A vindictive part of her wished she’d used his name sooner. It made Azriel’s wings flare. All seven of his siphons rippled with colour.

‘I want to be with Eris. He is my Carranam.’

‘You don’t even know what it is.’

‘He is mine,’ she said, knowing that each word would hurt him. ‘He will train my magic then we-’

‘You’ve sworn to the Mother a dozen times that you have no magic,’ he said swiftly, cutting into her speech.

There was one wound left. One last way to make Azriel bleed so that he was as repulsed by her as he should be.

‘I want to be with Eris because he is the son of a high lord. He is what I deserve. And you...' she fumbled. 'You’re just…’

The words lodged themselves in her throat. Nesta couldn’t do it.

‘Say it,’ he said softly.

Nesta ground her teeth together and held her chin up.

‘No,’ Azriel murmured. ‘Say what you want to say, Nesta. Tell me what I am.’

Her whole body gave an involuntary tremble.

In silence, Azriel pulled a bag from beneath the bed and began sweeping through her clothing, throwing it into the bag. The three books that she had on the bedside table were tossed on top along with a spare pair of shoes. Azriel wrapped and arm around Nesta then threw her over his shoulder. The dig of his bony shoulder made her stomach ache. She smacked his back – tried to scratch his wings – as he manoeuvred her through the bedroom and down the stairs.

Her hissing and spitting like a cat roused Feyre who darted from the office downstairs.

‘Put her down,’ she demanded.  

Azriel ignored her and continued striding through the house with Nesta hauled over his shoulder.

‘Azriel, what the fuck are you doing?’

He exited the Town House.

‘I’m her mate,’ he said. ‘I’ll decide what’s best for her.’

Nesta sucked in a breath as shadows wrapped around them, disfiguring her vision.

When they stopped, a cold wind blew through her hair.

She recognised the wooden cabin at once. The wildflowers which had been as high as her thighs last time she’d visited were brown and wilting as the summer waned. Stars were scattered through the early evening sky.

She couldn’t be here.

‘Take me back,’ she begged.

Azriel gently set her onto her feet. ‘No.’

‘I don’t want to be here.’

The front door opened and light flooded through the gap.

She scrambled to find purchase on his chest. ‘Please. Take me back to Velaris. I'll be better. Please.’

Azriel’s hands settled on her arms, pinning them to her sides. It wasn’t anger in his expression. Nesta wished it was. No, Azriel looked utterly defeated.

His mother met them quickly, concern pulling her dark brows together.

‘Nesta isn’t doing well,’ he said bluntly. ‘The city isn’t a good place for her.’

Rovena nodded in sympathetic understanding. A warm hand stroked between her shoulder blades and it took all of Nesta’s strength not to break into a sob from the touch alone.

Without a further word, Azriel turned and walked a handful steps away before winnowing into nothing.

[uispeccoll]

#VoicesFromTheStacks

Los Bailadores Zapatistas and the Latino Native American Cultural Center

Last week, the Latino-Native American Alumni Alliance (LANA3) gathered on campus to celebrate more than 50 years of the Latino Native American Cultural Center (LNACC) at the University of Iowa.

In 1971, three students—Rusty Barceló, Ruth Pushetonequa, and Tony Zavala—founded the the Chicano Indian American Cultural Center, later renamed the Latino Native American Cultural Center (LNACC). In it’s five-decade history LNACC has hosted events like cookouts, powwows, and dances; published literary magazines and newsletters; held rallies, boycotts, and protests; and sponsored a variety of other educational and social programs.  

The Libraries’ Special Collections and Archives recently acquired new materials from LNACC, including these beautiful dresses handmade by students in Los Bailadores Zapatistas, a baile folklórico troupe on campus. Baile folklórico encompasses many different types of traditional folk dance stemming from various regions of Mexico and cultural traditions, often with Indigenous and Spanish influences.

Los Bailadores Zapatista’s was formed at University of Iowa in the mid-1970s and aimed to “increase the education level and understanding of mestizo dancing and music, and to share our mestizo culture with the university and community population.” Los Bailadores performed on campus and throughout Iowa and the Midwest, often accompanied by the singing group El Conjunto Chicano. They visited other campuses and performed at community events and festivals. In 1978 they attended the National Ballet Folklórico festival in Kansas, and six students traveled to Mexico that summer to learn traditional dances.

Celina Espinoza, the groups instructor, taught the other members how to sew costumes, which are representative of traditional dance attire worn in different regions of Mexico. The group performed dances from the states of Jalisco and Veracruz, as well as from northern regions of Mexico and what is now the Southwestern United States.

Los Bailadores Zapatistas was just one of several student organizations affiliated with LNACC that brought Chicano art, music, and culture to audiences on the University of Iowa campus and beyond. To learn more about Los Bailadores and the Latino Native American Cultural Center, visit us in person or online at the Iowa Digital Library, check out our past blog posts on LNACC, and see the full finding aid to this collection here.

--Anne M, Olson Graduate Research Assistant

[wonderful-magician]

My rewrite of starlight express except it's just a detailed song list

Disclaimer: this is just for fun! And also some mentions of the race 4 crash and the stuff surrounding it. Along with characters like greaseball and Electra in not so pretty lights. Though I believe they both improve as people and are good people after the show!

You can completely ignore this post! If I sound a bit negative at all just know that starlight express is literally my favorite thing in the world right now and I would give every character a smooch on the forehead.

Basically I have my dream song list that has no rules. No time constraints just fully compliant to my AU. Mostly inspired by Broadway, the Vegas pre-recorded races, 2015 Bochum and original London. All horribly mashed together with glitter glue. (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠) Except instead of just showing off my dream song list. I'm also going to explain how each song played out in a setting that one could call a movie or tv show. I was originally going to draw every song but that's simply an exhausting sounding idea when I've already started a project for drawing every character.. anyway, to my ranting!

No control sequence

My Starlight express doesn't take place in a child's imagination. Instead of a full control sequence. We just get AI control announcing the national race!

Rolling stock

Rolling stock takes place early in the morning. Rusty wakes up early to watch the diesels get pumped and ready in the early hours. As rusty still has some time before he needs to grab the coaches for the busy day. And he somberly watches the big strong diesels.. greaseball is mostly hidden by the shadows but looks absolutely awesome! Featuring his great shades even though it's dark out.

Call me rusty/new intro song

Rusty no longer gets mocked immediately by the diesels. Instead rusty skates off to wake up and grab the coaches. The disgruntled and unprepared coaches whine and warn rusty about the day as they know his plans to race. Call me rusty is a great intro song for rusty and it wouldn't mind the original being used. Though truly I feel like rusty just deserves a good I want song that's more clear about his desire to win the races to prove the power of steam! ( His wish is to win! Not get pearl. )

Lotta locomotion

The introduction for the girls. They sing a lotta locomotion while rusty pulls them to the main yard but keeps taking detours. Trying to show off his skills yet the girls keep mentioning that he's simply not a popular engine nor is he very attractive to most train standards. Though pearl is silent and somber whenever it's brought up ( she likes him )

Shortened he whistled at me, new lyrics

Once they reach the yard. Rusty rushes off to get the freight and leaves the coaches in the main yard alone. Pearl gets in an argument with Buffy and Ashley. As she defends rusty from their criticism. And Dinah just shakes her head. Pearl sings an improved solo about her desire for an engine to whistle at her. ( Implying it's rusty. )

Freight

Pearls solo is suddenly interrupted by a loud horn. As the freight train is pulled in by rusty. The girls mock the freight trucks and the trucks mock the coaches. Though they have a friendly relationship even if they mock each other. Insert the introductionsss. Once freight ends. They start to rally for the noon race.

National engines

Standard national introductions. Not much to say.

AC/DC

Electra and the components show up fashionably late for the races. Electra is introduced as powerful and show stopping like always. A superstar that wasn't even expected to appear. Electra's hypnotizing powers are shown more clearly. As he magnetizes and influences pearl. And she's amazed by him. To Rusty's distaste.

Pumping Iron

Electra is suddenly interrupted by greaseball. Who had been watching from afar since the nationals. greaseball attracts Dinah and pearl, all the components, and CB and flat-top. Greaseball is shown to be the leader of the diesels and the strongest in the yard.

Coda freight

Electra and greaseball start to tussle as they are both strong engines desiring attention and leadership. And they challenge each other to the race. Rusty interrupts them and they mock him. Before they start the march.

Pearl you're honored

Everybody needs a partner. Pearl is invited by Electra ( purse.. ) to race. Pearl originally refuses but purse gets Electra himself to make an appearance. And his magnetism begins.

rewrite of make up my heart

The song is remade to be both a pearl solo. And somewhat a gag song. For pearl is shown having a dilemma. Wanting to race with rusty but she is being hypnotized to race with Electra slowly as the song continues. Everytime she turns to face the two boys they are behaving. And Electra looks favorable, rusty looks rather lame. But when she turns- Electra is mocking rusty and pushing him around with purse. The other components come out and pearl decides to race with Electra. Rusty is heartbroken.

Race 1

There's me

Dinah is upset with greaseball cheating during race 1. ( Not realizing that CB was the main one actively cheating for GB. She's just mad that GB hit a national. ) she cries and takes a break from GB. And is comforted by CB who is upset to see his closest friend crying. The song is more comedy focused. Putting emphasis on the silly ways CB tries to help Dinah. Which cheers her up.

Poppas blues

CB helps Dinah back to the coaches. And we follow him and rusty return to the main yard. Where poppa has appeared to endorse rusty for wanting to race. And sings his song while the freight dance. By the end of it. He realizes that rusty is upset. And finds out that rusty is super upset and hurt from being mocked and left. Poppa decides to race in Rusty's place ( to Rusty's dismay. ) and races with Belle the sleeping car...

Belle the sleeping car

Belle is shown sleeping and poppa wakes her up. She sings her song. ( Rusty has some less than stellar words to say. Even though she's implied to be his adoptive mother of sorts. ) And she goes off with poppa to race.

Crazy and engine of love tidbit

Rusty approaches pearl again. Begging her to race with him instead so that poppa and Belle don't race. She calls him crazy and the song starts. As he tries to court her back ( with a lil bit of engine of love. ) She gets close to saying yes but is pulled away by the other coaches.

Starlight express

Rusty, defeated after being rejected and mocked so much during the day. Sings starlight express as the day ends. And he falls asleep knowing the next day will have the next race. ( And he's worried about poppa, and pearl. )

Race 2

The OLC rap/silver dollar

After poppa Is injured from the race but places first place. They debate if rusty can replace him in the lineup. As they debate. The grand prize is revealed. ( And the people who want it most. Are hinted. ) Rusty couples up with CB, who supports his ability to race throughout the rap.

Rewritten pearl twirl

Greaseball and Electra get in a tussle. GB bonks Electra on the head and his magnetism ceases. Pearl gets mad at Electra and moves to go to rusty. Before she's stopped by greaseball. He flirts with her and she's receptive ( who wouldn't be. ) Dinah is heartbroken by greaseball but he claims it's just some fun and it'll only be for the race. And pearl doesn't say anything to Dinah

Uncoupled

Dinah sings a sadder version of uncoupled. ( I hate it when she's treated like comedy relief! ) as she's upset that she feels betrayed by her boyfriend and her best friend. And she sings of her feelings of low worth.

Girls rolling stock

Ashley and buffy come over to comfort Dinah after they see her crying. They're both mad that greaseball treated her in such a way. ( It's also implied that Buffy and Ashley are a couple. ) and they mention some boundaries that need to be set. Before cheering her up with a song.

Dinah you're honored

Purse collects Dinah to race with Electra. ( Who was still upset about losing pearl ) And she doesn't put up a fight.

wide smile

CB is shown alone. Before he's trailing GB. And speaking to Electra through his radio. Before assuring greaseball that he's still working with him. Before skating off to Electra. And sharing his plans to crash Rusty and steal the silver dollar to Electra. Electra is shocked and allured by the plan. And trusts CB even as CB sings of his crimes. The components are distrustful of CB.

Race 3

Right place right time

The Rockies come in to explain to rusty that the system is broken. And that he'll never win because the rich and the popular control who wins and who loses. and rusty simply has no chance in ever winning against somebody like Electra or greaseball. As rusty is still reeling from being injured and betrayed by CB.

Starlight sequence

Rusty is defeated after the Rockies finish their song. And he sits down in pain from his injuries and his mental exhaustion. He screams for the starlight express and is visited by them. They inform him that he doesn't need help. and simply needs to believe in himself and do what he needs to. As the tides are in his favor.

Dustin/Dinah's disco

Dustin also had seen the starlight express. And is found by rusty. The two confide in each other for being mocked by the others. And they partner up for the last race. / Dinah rejects and yells at Electra for being a jerk. And a whiny brat. Electra is hurt ( despite it being deserved as he won't stop talking about getting second place. And deserving to get first. ) couples with CB. ( To the components dismay )

Race 4

One rock and roll too many

After the horrific crash that occurred during race 4. CB, Electra and greaseball are utterly miserable. Nearly shutting down as their bodies are wired together somewhat and broken. CB is the weakest. But they sing their song in sadness. And the silver dollar is yanked from CB after he passed out.

Only he snippit

Back to pearl. Pearl is shown singing a few lyrics from only he as she is alone. And reflecting over what happened during the races and before.

Only you

The duet between Rusty and Pearl. Pearl declares she will try her best to not let others stop her from staying with rusty. And rusty declares he'll protect her. Smooch smooch ( I LOVE THEM )

Ending dialogue

Poppa is stern with CB. And gives the silver dollar to rusty. The components are harsh to their master and teach him a few words. And Dinah makes up with GB. Saying they need to set each other's boundaries more. But she still loves him ( and he still loves her. Smooch. ) and he apologizes for cheating and messing around.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Honestly this song gives me major during the credits so just imagine a bumping credits scroll lmao. Even better? One of those 2010 animated movie dancing credits shdhdbdb

OKKK IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ASK ME I LOVE TALKING (⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠) this was fun to write. I REALLY LOVE TALKING I might make more posts like this but I'm unsure

[stellarislune]

Asirel x Pet | impromptu fic

Or what happens when Pet 'ran' away without a trace one day.

ASIREL's POV

"Are you sure that these tactics will give us more profit?"

"Surely, the losses will be big. I beg to disagree."

"Perhaps we should do this instead.."

"I highly doubt the effectiveness of the.."

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Flashbacks of the meeting drilled a headache down into my brain.

It's another one of those days where the court just keeps toeing their feet out of line. If I snap back, they appease me with their façade of docileness.

Even with all the power and reputation in my grasp, the fact that I am younger than most of those greedy, old zealots mean that I am lower than them. At least, that is what they believe.

Sigh.

If I crack at the smallest slight against me, it'll be a big damage to my invincible, shiny image.

Asirel.

The most powerful man with powerful connections all over the world. I scoffed to myself. The throne is a lonely place for the Almighty.

Creakkk.

The door opens to my favorite chamber as of late; the room that belongs to my favored Pet.

At this time of the evening, they're usually up and about. Either playing with knives and darts, reading, or simply exploring the room in their idle time. I have not allowed them to come out ever since that fiasco where they tried to use my personal lessons on others. Not that I left that fool gloating over having stolen what was mine — they won't be able to bring mortal possessions in whatever position they are in right now.

What greets me, however, is an empty, silent room devoid of light from the chandeliers hanging above. There's knives scattered on the floor, splattered with what looked like blood. A soft breeze runs past me, so I turn my head towards the window. It has been broken—whether it has been broken in or out however, I do not know.

It's a moonlit night. Its rays illuminated the room dimly, yet with enough light to identify whatever it is on the ground. Several bodies, probably dead, all scattered unceremoniously against the walls in various directions.

"What games are you playing, Pet?", I mutter to myself, exasperated yet also intrigued. This is surely not the first time this has happened.

My Pet has gone to feed, perhaps. Unsated by these.. lucky fools. I think. They always return to me.

Suddenly, the waft of air brings something that smells strangely familiar. The scent.

It brings back the smell of rusty cages, bleek-looking faces, and a rot of something that has never seen the light for ages—during the first time that I have met them.

It's the faint scent of inhibitors.

I turned the lights on.

The bodies in the dark now have faces on them. Seeing such a mess in this room has never been surprising. Pet always feeds as if they have been starved. Like a feral beast without a leash. What shocks me is the fact that the men, albeit beaten up and bruised, appear to be alive.

I knelt down, putting two fingers on one of the men's neck and, indeed, there's a pulse. These men have fought, that's obvious enough. To think that they were toyed by my Pet is a huge possibility, yet something compels me to think that something is definitely, definitely, wrong.

With haste, I grabbed my phone. Calling one of my attendants to check on the CCTVs all over the place. My hands, which were once burning with annoyance and anger from earlier, felt cold as ice.

"Check every footage. Every nook and cranny.", My voice was deep, commanding. Somehow, it sounded shaky against the static. "My Pet is somewhere in this vicinity. Rally my men and find them." I grit my teeth as I put the phone down.

This isn't the first time that you've disappeared. It's not the first time that you have escaped from my grasp, only to be dragged back again.

But this.. this is the first time my heart has beaten this fast.

Surely, you will return. Right?

[albino-parakeet]

Name: Llyr (They/Them)

The skytober drawing they originally come from

Some tid bits about Llyr

Born some time between Season of Prophecy and Dreams, but went missing until Performance.

Picked up surfing shortly after reappearing and instantly became obsessed with it

Makes surfboards as a side hobby and is willing to help anyone who's damaged their boards

Like a ball of energy. Always moving.

Has a scar that stretches across their mid section from a horrifying encounter.

Due to them being injured during their moth years, their flying is very rusty. Always collides with at least one sky kid anytime they fly

Their bad flying actually helped them make their first friend after returning.

Outfit is a Rallying Thrillseeker suit that they painted to match Adva, their Dino companion.

Feather head accessories also worn to mimic Adva

Cape is more penguin like than Performance guide cape.

A little taller than average moth starting height (Height 5 based on this Sky height chart)

Some backstory (not all of it yet) about Llyr and Adva under cut

Llyr's backstory. (Reads more like a storyboard cause idk how to write.)

By the time Llyr reappeared, Season of Performance had started. Thankfully they aren’t alone and are almost always followed by what looks to be a large “light creature”, who is just as animated as their Sky kid friend.

Adva, a Beipiaosaurus, was a gift from a kind Shepard that helped Llyr during their time recovering in the underground city after a scary encounter with one of the more territorial creatures. They named her Adva because of how small she was when they received her, but soon realized the name would be ironic due to how fast she was growing. Adva, is their partner in crime during most of their adventures and acts somewhat like a service animal for Llyr. She helps Llyr calm down during moments of high stress and anxiety, letting them lie down and focus on the texture of her feathers until they relax and catch their breath.

The Dinosaur Fan Season that's mentioned in this

Some extra doodles of them cause I love them:

[stex-anon-confessions]

ok so i know im #1 crazy fan and let me tell you. the pre-2018 bochum version (actually havent heard post-2018 yet lol) is so superior in my opinion. its perfect. it has the most fun ad-libs, it has rusty rallying up the audience, it has you guessed it im mentioning kevin again you cant get rid of me it has the man the myth the kevin it is just so perfect.i will mention kevin until the end of time his rusty is so peak.

when funny train boy tells me to clap my hands i go "yayyy!!!!!!!!!!" and i listen. i love everything about it. the way he takes pearls casual roast (["dont you wanna race with the fastest engine in the world?"] "i'd love to, rusty, but where is he?") so absolutely well and so joyously just says "right here!" with full confidence full pride its just. idk. its so small and so unimportant but i just love it. this iteration of the song feels like him going "i can do it yippee!!!" and god lets not even get into how its choreographed.

JUST KIDDING LETS GET INTO HOW ITS CHOREOGRAPHED. I LOVE HOW HES JUST DOING HIS OWN THING THE WHOLE TIME AND STUFF. AND THE OTHERS ARE TRYNA KEEP UP. I LOVE HOW PEARL GETS DIZZY AT THE START. I LOVE HIS LITTLE WOO'S AND GIGGLES. i even saw a recording where he trips which was definitely not intentional but dude it fits. it fits so well lmao.

and dont even get me started on the MEGAMIX VERSION. THE WAY HE GLIDES IN FROM THE TOP WHEN HIS PART BEGINS AND THE KNEE SLIDE THE KNEE SLIDE HES SO PRECIOUS AAAAAAAAAAAAA the the EVERYTHING AAHAHDHFICJJF THE BOY OF ALL TIME HES THE BEST I SWEAR 2 GOD CAN WE GO BACK TO 2015 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

so guys. rusty is, pretty okay i guess (BIG SARCASM I LOVE HIM AND I LOVE HIS SILLY "I CAN DO IT!" SONG)

- 👽

.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

So I finished Unremembered Empire...

Actually I finished it like a week ago, I've just been wrangling with some gnarly insomnia and haven't had the brainpower to post. Ending thoughts:

For some reason I was under the impression that Vulkan was stark raving mad and stark raving naked when he charged Konrad Curze, and I'm deeply disappointed that he wasn't. Would it make sense? Probably not. Would it be fucking wild? Absolutely. I can only shake my head at Abnett's cowardice.

Does Curze have any motive beyond, "lol killing fun"?

Lion and Guilliman just fucking jumped Sanguinius as soon as he got off the ship, didn't they. Dude must have been so happy to see his brothers, and then they just cram a crown into his hands.

Euten rallying the Shattered Legions was phenomenal. Can we just make her their temporary primarch while they're on Macragge? They could use a mom, is all I'm saying.

I know it's a very serious moment, but I find the unexpected orbital drop to be such a hilarious concept. Baffled Macraggans getting bombarded by equally baffled Dark Angels. Imagine having a drop pod land in your neighborhood, and now you have these deeply embarrassed Astartes on your porch apologizing for blowing over your garage. Everyone comes out to stare. Someone's grandpa is convinced that the Word Bearers are attacking and has to be restrained from opening fire with a rusty old lasgun. A small child keeps escaping her parents to tell the Dark Angels that their armor is the wrong color. The Arbites are trying, and failing, to hustle everyone back into their homes. And then the Ultramarines come tearing in like the most deranged traffic cops to ever dog the streets. I'm gonna write fanfiction about this, mark my words.

[happyunbday2u]

Malloy Twins headcannons

- Turk is a minute older - Turk also got the muscle genes while Virgil got the smart genes… at least more then Turk - their first argument was when they were 3 and they both wanted to watch a different kids show - Virgil’s the more sensitive twin, he cried in Titanic - Turk is a nickname his full name is Tuckerman Malloy but he hates it - they like to wrestle for fun - Turk always wins - the reason Rusty knew about them was because another guy who had worked with the twins said they were amazing get away drivers - he didn’t mention the constant arguing - when Danny and Rusty went to recruit them they were arguing, in the middle they were arguing and by the end they were arguing just after agreeing to go to Las Vages - Turk calls Virgil sweetheart because his first girlfriend called him sweetheart and as the twin brother has never let it go - Now he calls anyone sweetheart in his circle of 'I will deny this but I care about them' - If no one noticed he called Danny sweetheart in Ocean's 13 - if someone joins in on one of the twins making fun of the the other, the second the other twin leaves the twin who had just been calling him a ‘dumbass bitch with a brain the size of a ant’ will turn to that someone with the most menacing glare ever - ”listen here you little shit I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but if you says that to my brother again I will run you over with my car” - randomly calls the other stupid pet names both to annoy the other- - “VERMIN!” “TURKEY!” “VIRGIN!” ”TUTU!” "BITCH-" - and for that ‘random moment you decide to be nice to your sibling’ affection - ”… hey Virgie you want McDonalds?” - ”Hey T I got tickets to a Monster Truck Rally wanna come?” - there as never been one time that they haven’t been arguing except for two things: Monster Truck Rallies are awesome and X-Men - They fear nothing... except losing the other. They may argue alot but god forbid anything happens to the other like getting shot in a heist gone wrong or break a bone even if its something small like accidently hurting the other in roughhousing or one accidently cutting themselves while doing dishes - For example one time they were roughhousing and suddenly Virgil yelled out ow and Turk went into full panic mode _ "NOBODY FUCKING MOVE! ARE YOU OKAY!? DID YOU BREAK SOMETHING!?! DO WE NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL!?!?!" - Turns out Virgil just landed on his arm too hard and it was enough to hurt but not break - "Oh thank god..." just tackles him "MOTHERFUCKER YOU MADE ME WORRY-" - No one on the team has let him live it down, they found it adorable of course but it's their job to tease each other