#THANK YOU FOR THE OPPORTUNITY I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM

[iloveelvisss]

Lovestruck (an Elvis fic/imagine)

Pairing: yandere!Elvis x Reader

Summary: It’s 1975 and Linda has rejected Elvis’ proposal, leaving him drug dependent. Worried and frustrated, his family and Linda get an in-home nurse to get him back on track with his health. But what happens when Elvis mistakes her kindness for love?

Warnings/Triggers: this is a yandere fic so expect dark themes such as, obsessive, compulsive, manipulative, crazed behavior. Elvis is delusional. References to sex and baby making. Forced marriage, and slight kidnapping? References to the colonel.

Priscilla left. And Elvis believed he was heartbroken, keyword: believed. And he sulked and sulked and sulked for weeks.

But then Linda came around. He was convinced he was in love with her, letting her move in and redecorate his house and make friends with his baby daughter. He even thought about proposing. But she said she wasn't sure if that's what she wanted.

And while she was a good distraction at first, when she rejected his proposal, the drugs became more of a distraction to him. And he made it okay by telling himself that drugs couldn't tell him no.

And that's how it went for the longest time. But people were worried. His family was worried— even baby Lisa knew something was up with her daddy.

So Linda, armed with everyone else's concern, took matters into her own hands. She called so many doctors and rehabilitation centers, and eventually she got a nurse to agree to live in at Graceland to try and get him off all the pills.

•

You walk into the grand house, following the gorgeous woman. She's sweet, has a good character and you can tell from just talking the few words you have.

The house looks different from the pictures that were once in the pages of a tabloid, with Elvis on the couch with a guitar. Back then the house was light, with royal blues and whites, but now it was like a vampire's lair— all red and gold.

"I just want to say thank you. We've tried to get him to go to rehab, but he refuses every time."

You smile sweetly at Linda. This is the first job that could actually mean something for you, and you feel as though you should be the one saying thank you. Before this opportunity, you were prescribing solutions to trust fund teens in California who got ahold of drugs at their high school parties. It was a good job, but you wanted more— you went to school for more. You felt as though your talents could be put to better use, and this was that breakthrough you were looking for since you graduated college.

"No, this is an honor, seriously. And sometimes it's better for people of his caliber to be kept away from prying eyes in times like these. Going to a center would put him at more of a risk for a press leak." You sit down with her as you make it to the living room, and there you find Elvis' father as well. He stands and shakes your hand.

You sit with them and talk about plans and the goals they have for his recovery, and all the while, you're stuck wondering why the man himself isn't here. This is a meeting about his health, after all. But they don't mention it, so you don't either.

And once they're satisfied with everything, Linda shows you to what's going to be your room for the next however many months.

An hour later, you go down to dinner, not expecting Elvis because Linda informed you that he usually took his dinner in his room nowadays. But to everyone's surprise, about halfway into the meal, the stairs creak, and almost immediately his presence engulfs you. Your eyes widen and you instantly stand up, still not quite believing that you're in the same room as your favorite singer.

His eyes scan the room before they zero in on you; it takes your breath away completely. And because of the nerves wracking your body, you give him the most awkward smile ever, mentally scolding yourself for being so stupid. He's human just like you. That's what you repeat to yourself over and over as he slowly stalks over to you from around the table.

Everyone— the few members of the Memphis mafia that decided to stay for dinner, Linda, Vernon, the cook who was plating the food— all stare with bated breath, all of them knowing how Elvis feels about rehab. He doesn't believe he has a problem. "Well what do we have here, hm? Ya sneak through the gate, honey?"

It takes you a minute to shake yourself from your trance, but once you do you shake your head. You're acting like a little girl that's seeing Santa Claus for the first time. "N- no, sir... pardon me, my name is Y/N," you stick your hand out for him to shake, "I'm your new nurse."

Linda winces and you shoot her a confused look. She expected him to blow up, or for his jaw to tick, or for him to say something snide— anything other than the gentle smile that graces his lips. He takes your hand and places a kiss on the back. Vernon clears his throat awkwardly. What is happening, you wonder to yourself. Everyone is acting like they're at a funeral. Except Elvis. He's acting like he got the latest Cadillac model.

Bless Linda's poor heart, and the fact that she can tell you innocently have no clue what the look in her boyfriend's eyes is. If she were anyone else, she'd want to tear your hair out. But she keeps quiet, just grateful that he's taking the news well. "Well I'll be damned, I didn't know I was sick. Honey, am I sick?" His eyes turn to Linda— only for a split second before they're piercing into you again. Is this love at first sight... because it sure seems like it to Elvis. He had to talk to all the other girls for at least a day before he felt something. Linda bats her eyelashes, "it's just in case, E, that's all. Gotta have ya perfect for the stage, yeah?"

He hums, and then finally lets your hand go. He gestures to your chair and then sits at the head of the table that's conveniently beside you. "Welcome then, Y/N."

You smile, this time a lot more gracefully, and then sit like he did. "Well why y'all starin' like dummies? Eat." He instructs everyone at the table, and like little minions, they all obey.

But he talks to you. About everything under the sun. And during such a time, you both come to an agreement on what he needs to do differently in order to maintain his health. A nice and easy regiment that should keep him from facing very terrible withdrawals. He seems to like you, or maybe he's just a really nice guy, but either way, you decide you're going to really enjoy staying here.

Weeks pass much the same. You like being friends with Elvis, and you realize that he's extremely humble and down to earth, not at all like the negative press he gets. You get a solid routine down; once a day, you give him a checkup, and you also lessen his pill intake everyday until he's down to strictly only what he actually needs. And much to the Colonel's dismay— a man you deemed icky the first time you met him— Elvis fires Dr. Nick and takes on a doctor you personally recommend.

•

Elvis knew this time. And despite his earlier feelings, he was mentally thanking Linda for rejecting him. And whether or not you liked it, you were going to be his.

You were his guardian Angel. That had to be it. You were saving his life. Of course he had a problem, and now he knew it. You were sent to him by God and were there to save him. He knew it. He knew that had to be the truth. Why else would you be so willing to better such a man?

Oh, and the way you smiled at him. The way your eyes lingered on him. The way you so very clearly wanted to be his. He wasn't blind, and the way you always looked at him with a twinkle in your eyes, that had to be you pleading for him to take you away— make you his. And once he knew for sure his plan would work, he'd do just that. He'd save you just the same way you saved him. And you'd be together, like you both wanted. Forever.

His hands would linger. When you'd check his blood pressure and breathing, he'd put his hand on your shoulder. And you never told him no, you never pushed him away. And he knew signs when they were given— you were definitely giving him signs.

There was this language between the two of you, a silent pining. He knew it. 'Just a while longer, angel. We'll be together.' It was a mantra inside his head every second of every day.

Four months into your residency as Elvis liked to call it, and fours months of mutual pining, Elvis knew it was time. He put his plan into action. You came home from the pharmacy to see bags in the foyer— your bags. With tears in your eyes, you walked up the stairs, "Elvis? Hello?"

You paused as he walked out of his room, looking the picture of health and happiness. He could see the confusion written all over your face. He was about to explain when you cut him off. "M' fired? Ya want me to leave?"

And then he saw resolution mix in with the emotions filling your face. You dry your tears. "Well thank you for the opportunity. It was great, and I hope I helped you well enough, Mr. Presley." You seemed almost fine with the idea, just a little beaten up about losing a job. But he knew better, you were playing hard to get.

"Mr. Presley? Baby, don't call me that, Mr. Presley is my daddy. Can't ya tell? We're goin' away... you and me." He grabbed your hand, a smile painting his face.

And there was that confusion again, and if he weren't so crazy, he'd also see that the look he thought was love was actually a little bit of fear. He'd been extra touchy and sweet, but you thought that was just the type of person he was. But now you could tell that he was just rather crazy. What did he mean going away? You were his nurse. "What're you talking about, Elvis?"

"C'mon, darlin' let's not dance around this no more. I see the way ya look at me— we're in love." He grins wolfishly, his grip tightening. He looks down at your lips.

You shake your head slowly, your eyes widening. You take a step back, looking behind you for any sign of anyone else, but it's then that you realize the house is eerily silent except for the two of you. He pulls you back, your face making contact with his chest. His free hand tangles into your hair and tilts your face so you can look at him. "Angel, I know moving away seems scary, but we can be together. We can start that life we both want, hm? I know ya feel the same, ya don't gotta say it right now."

And you can't even say anything or even try and run because he's got you thrown over his shoulder and in his car within minutes. He buckles you in and gets in the drivers seat after instructing Sonny to load your stuff into another car and to meet him at the airport.

He looks at you from the rear view mirror with a crazed smirk, one he thinks is harmless and loving. "How's Vegas sound, angel? We can get married in a chapel and ya can watch my shows every night, and we'll make Lisa Marie a big sister. I can tell yer beggin' for me to make ya a mama," his fingers drum on the steering wheel as he speeds through Memphis to the airport, "Oh yeah, I can see it now. Ya won't leave the bed for months after we get hitched. And I'll make this one last 'cause yer my soulmate. I was a dumb sonofabitch for thinkin' it was Cilla."

And as you stare at him through the mirror, tears fighting to fall from your eyes, you realize that this is one situation you don't think you can get out of. You screwed up.

Heyyy lovies! So I wrote this today because I wanted to read a fic like this but I couldn’t find one, so I just wrote it myself. First time writing darker themes, so bear with me if it’s not that good. Enjoy anyway, or at least I hope. Much love❣️ (I also just wanted an excuse to use that picture because he looks so scrumptious in it).

[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

19. L’amour De Ma Vie

Noah and London were now six months old, and doctors gave Jack and Maryse the go ahead to start introducing them to baby food, and today was the first taste. Jack had Noah and London strapped into their high chairs, armed with tiny spoons and jars of baby food, while Maryse chatted with her manager Coco on the phone in the next room.

“Alright, Noah, London,” Jack grinned, holding up a jar of banana baby food. “Let’s see if you’re ready for the good stuff.”

He scooped a tiny spoonful of the banana mush and held it up to Noah, who eyed it curiously before opening his mouth. Noah’s face lit up the moment he tasted it, and he reached out for more, babbling excitedly, kicking his feet. 

“Looks like someone’s a fan,” Jack chuckled, spooning another bit into Noah’s mouth as his son happily gobbled it up.

Turning to London, he offered her a taste with equal enthusiasm. But the moment it touched her lips, London made a face of pure disgust, wrinkling her nose and letting the banana mush dribble out of her mouth. She gave Jack a look as if to say, “How could you do this to me?”

“Oh, not a fan, huh?” he laughed, grabbing a napkin to clean her little chin. “I thought everyone liked bananas!”

In the other room, Maryse overheard the commotion and chuckled to herself as Coco paused mid-sentence. “Sounds like things are going… well?” Coco asked with a smirk in her voice. 

Maryse laughed, glancing over to see Jack trying to win London over. “You could say that,” she said, “Noah’s loving it, but London… not so much.”

She leaned against the wall, watching as Jack continued his adorable efforts, gently encouraging London with another tiny spoonful. “Come on, girl, just one more bite. It’s not that bad, promise.”

But London pursed her lips defiantly, giving him a look that left no room for negotiation. Maryse smiled, knowing she was witnessing the twins’ little personalities shine through already.

As she balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, Maryse listened to Coco running through her upcoming schedule. “Since you’re back in the studio again things are definitely about to pick up. They want you to perform the national anthem at the closing ceremony for the Paris Olympics….”

As Maryse listened to Coco on the other end of the line, her eyes widened. “Wait, Coco, are you serious?” she asked, barely able to contain her surprise.

Coco laughed. “Yes, I’m serious! The committee wants you to sing the national anthem at the closing ceremony of the Paris Olympics. It’s a huge honor, and they’re thrilled at the idea.”

Maryse’s mind started racing. The Olympics… in Paris. A massive global stage, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. “Wow… I don’t even know what to say,” she breathed, glancing over at Jack, who was still amusing himself trying to coax London into another spoonful of baby food.

Jack noticed her expression and raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” he mouthed.

Maryse held up a finger, smiling in disbelief as Coco continued. “Look, it’s big, but they want an answer soon. Think about it, but know they’d be honored to have you.”

“Okay, I’ll talk it over, but… yeah, wow, Coco. Thanks for telling me. I’ll get back to you soon.” She hung up and paused in the doorway, her heart melting at the scene in front of her. The twins were facing each other in their high chairs, babbling in what sounded like a secret language only they understood. Little giggles and expressive hand gestures filled the room as they looked at each other with wide, curious eyes.

Jack turned to Maryse with a grin, whispering, “I think they’re plotting against us. Look at them.”

Maryse laughed, leaning into him. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she replied, watching as Noah’s babbling grew louder, and London responded with an enthusiastic clap.

Jack grinned, “We’re doomed.”

Maryse laughed again, leaning into him. “If they team up to take us down, we don’t stand a chance.”

They both let out huge laughs, after coming down Jack squeezed her hips, “So what’s the big news?”

“So… they want me to sing the national anthem at the closing ceremony of the Olympics,” she said, letting the weight of it sink in.

Jack’s face lit up, a huge grin spreading across his face. “Paris? Babe, that’s huge! You have to do it!” 

Maryse laughed, her excitement mixing with a touch of anxiety. “I know, it’s… I can’t even wrap my head around it. But performing live, on a stage that big… it’s kind of terrifying, too.”

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her. “You’re gonna kill it. If anyone can own that moment, it’s you. Besides,” he added “You performed at the Super Bowl while pregnant.”

“I did do that, huh.” She said with a smirk as she looked up at him. 

As Maryse soaked in the excitement, her expression shifted. “Wait…” She looked up at Jack, a flicker of worry crossing her face. “Isn’t that the same weekend you’re booked to perform in Saudi Arabia?”

Jack’s smile faded as he did a quick mental check. “Oh man… yeah, it is.” He ran a hand over his head, realizing the dilemma. “I completely forgot they overlap.”

They looked at each other, both trying to piece together a way to make it work. “We’re gonna be on two different continents,” she murmured, disappointment settling in. “This is huge for both of us, though…” 

She glanced at Noah and London who were busy with their baby food. “And… who’s going to watch the babies?” She looked back at Jack, concerned in her eyes. “We’ve never left the country without them before. A couple hours away sure but…”

He nodded, the same worry flickering across his face. “I know. We’d need someone we trust completely.” He thought for a moment before adding, “Maybe my parents could stay at our place? They’ve handled them for weekends, and the twins love them.”

Maryse sighed, still looking uncertain. “Yeah, they’d be in good hands, but it’s so different knowing we’ll be so far away.”

He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I get it. I feel the same. But if this is something we both need to do, we can make sure they’re safe and loved. And we can be on FaceTime constantly.”

She nodded, finally letting herself smile a little. “Alright, if we can set up everything for them, maybe we can make this work. And you better believe I’ll be FaceTiming every chance I get.”

Jack pulled her close, reassuring her with a warm smile. “Look, as soon as I’m done in Saudi Arabia, I’m heading straight home. I’ll pick up the twins, and we’ll all meet you in Paris.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? That’s a lot of traveling…”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “Yeah. I don’t want you missing them that long, and I want us all together. Plus, the kids’ first trip to Paris? Gotta make it a family thing.”

She laughed, her face softening. “You really think of everything, don’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you and them.” He grinned. “It’s all planned out—we’ll be cheering you on in the crowd while you blow everyone away with the anthem.”

LIFEOFMONET

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LifeOfMonet: STUDIO SCHMUDIO

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user: we readyyyyy

user: BOUT TIME!!

user: side note you and Jack’s home studio is so nice

user: show us the twins !!!

dojacat: Hell yeahhhhh

jackharlow: I took these

user: that hair tho 😍

As they loaded her bags into the car, Maryse held Noah and London close, her eyes welling up with tears as she kissed each of their heads. “I hate leaving them. They’re just so little…”

Jack gently grabbed the twins from her and handed them off to his parents, then put his arm around her, pulling her into his chest. “Babe, it’s only a couple of days. And they’ll be right there with you soon enough—probably before you even start to miss them.”

She sighed, leaning into him. “I already miss them. I just feel like…like I should be here.”

He stroked her back, keeping his voice soft. “You’re doing amazing. They’re happy, they’re healthy, and they’ve got everything they need—especially with you as their mom.” He wiped a tear from her cheek, smiling. “And, you’re allowed to do something for you, too. We’ll be right behind you before you know it.”

She sniffled, nodding, and glanced back at the babies, who were both smiling and babbling away in his parents arms. “Promise?”

He chuckled. “Promise. I’ll see you in Paris with these little ones soon, and you’ll rock that performance. We got you.”

With one last kiss to each of them and a deep breath, she climbed into the car, waving as she pulled away, her heart tugging—but feeling a little lighter.

As Maryse’s car disappeared down the road, Jack let out a sigh and turned to find his mom giving him a knowing, sympathetic look.

“She’s been having a tough time,” he said, shifting Noah to his other arm as London reached for her brother’s hand. “She’s feeling all that mom guilt…like she shouldn’t be leaving, even for just a couple days.”

His mom smiled gently, resting a hand on his shoulder before reaching for Noah. “She’s a wonderful mom, and it’s completely normal. But you’re right here, and she knows you’ve got it handled.” She leaned down, softly brushing a hand over Noah’s head. “Give her some time. It’ll get easier.”

Jack nodded, feeling that bittersweet pride. “Yeah…I just want her to know it’s okay for her to have her own time, too. She deserves it.”

Back inside the house, they went into the living room, London sitting on his lap, his mom studied him for a moment before speaking gently.

“Have you thought about suggesting she talk to someone?” she asked, tilting her head. “It’s not easy to admit, but I think she might be dealing with some postpartum depression.”

Jack’s jaw tightened slightly as he glanced down at London, who was playing with his necklace. “Yeah…I’ve thought about it. She’s been up and down, and I know she’s struggling more than she lets on.”

His mom nodded thoughtfully. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of women go through it. I think it could help her, even if it’s just having someone to talk to outside of you.”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I know you’re right. I just don’t want to make her feel worse by bringing it up.”

“You won’t,” his mom assured him. “Just remind her how much you love her and that it’s about making sure she feels her best, not just for the babies but for herself too.”

He nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. “I’ll bring it up when she gets back. She deserves to feel okay…better than okay.”

“And you deserve some credit too,” his mom added with a warm smile. “You’re doing a great job, Jack. She’s lucky to have you.”

Jack smiled faintly, bouncing London slightly. “We’re all lucky to have her, too.”

***

In his dressing room, Jack paced back and forth, his phone pressed to his ear. It had become a mini ritual of his to call Maryse before every show, even more so now that they were apart. He glanced at the clock. Luckily, Paris was only a couple of hours behind Saudi, so it wasn’t too late to call.

After a few rings, her familiar voice came through. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. Just hearing her voice eased some of the tension in his chest. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to figure out how to navigate the room service menu in French,” she joked. “I think I accidentally ordered snails earlier.”

He laughed, adjusting the chain around his neck. “Snails, huh? Fancy now.”

“Don’t start,” she teased, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “How’s it going over there?”

“Getting ready for my second show,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “You know I can’t go on stage without hearing your voice first. It’s my good luck charm.”

“Cheesy,” she said softly. “But you don’t need luck. You’re going to kill it, like always.”

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. “Yeah, but it’s different when you’re not here. I miss you. I miss the kids.”

“I miss you too,” she said. “But just think, after this, we’re all going to be in Paris together. You’ve got one more show, then you’re home to grab the twins and come meet me.”

Can’t wait,” he said sincerely. Then, after a pause, he added, “You good, though? For real?”

There was a slight hesitation before she answered. “I’m okay. I still hate being away from them, but I’m managing.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re doing amazing, you know that? Don’t be too hard on yourself. The kids are fine, and you deserve to have moments for you too.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “You always know what to say.”

“Of course I do,” he teased.

Jack leaned back on the couch, phone to his ear, grinning. “So, how’s Paris? Are they treating you like the star you are?”

Maryse chuckled. “It’s been good. Oh! When I got to my hotel room, they had an Eiffel Tower made out of macarons waiting for me. It was so cute!”

“Macarons, huh? They know how to spoil you,” he teased, shaking his head. “What else? Did they roll out a red carpet to your room too?”

“Not quite,” she said with a laugh. “But rehearsals were good. And…Tom Cruise sent me flowers.” Jack could hear the smile in her tone. 

He sat up straighter, his eyebrows raising. “Wait, wait, hold up. Tom Cruise sent you flowers?” He exaggerated her tone, mimicking her emphasis. “Like, ‘Oh, Tom Cruise, action star, Mission Impossible, Mr. Hollywood’?”

Maryse burst out laughing. “Stop it! That’s not how I said it!”

“No, no, you said it like, ‘Oh, Tom Cruise,’ like he’s the one that got away or something,” he teased, shaking his head dramatically.

“Whatever,” she said, trying to suppress her giggles. “He was just being nice.”

“Nice?” Jack  smirked. “Looks like I got some competition’”

“Oh my gosh, you’re ridiculous,” she said, still laughing.

“And you’re over there fangirling,” he shot back playfully. “Bet you saved the card, didn’t you?”

She gasped in mock offense. “I did not!”

“Mm-hmm,” he teased.

“Jack, you don’t even need to worry, you’re the only white guy I'll ever love.”

Jack froze mid-laugh, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Wait, what did you just say?”

Maryse, barely holding back her laughter, repeated with a playful tone, “I said you don’t need to worry because you’re the only white guy I’ll ever love.”

He leaned back, pretending to look offended. “Oh, so I’m just the token white guy now, huh? Is that what this is?”

She burst out laughing. “I’m just saying, Tom Cruise has nothing on you.”

“Damn right he doesn’t,” Jack shot back, smirking. “I mean, he could never rock a curly mullet? 

“Exactly,” she teased. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” he repeated, pretending to be wounded. “That’s not the kind of reassurance I want! I want to hear I’m your one and only forever.”

“Oh no I think my phone is breaking up!” Maryse started making noises into the phone. 

“M!” Jack said laughing 

“Love you, I’ll be watching clips later!” Maryse said giggling before hanging up.”

Jack smiles when he immediately looked down at his phone when a text came through from Maryse. 

“You’re my forever.”

***

Jack stepped off the plane, his face showing every bit of the exhaustion he felt. Noah was squirming in his arms, while London fussed in Urban’s. As they headed to the gate, Urban chuckled, “Man, I don’t know how you’re still standing.”

“I’m not,” Jack replied, stifling a yawn. “The only thing keeping me upright is the thought of getting to Maryse.”

They finally reached the luggage area, and Jack carefully placed Noah into the double stroller before Urban secured London next to him. The kids, already cranky from the long flight, began to whine.

“Alright, alright,” Jack murmured, crouching down to adjust Noah’s blanket and handing London her pacifier. “I know it wasn’t the best flight, but we made it. Let’s not start a scene, huh?”

Urban shook his head, laughing softly. “Bro, you really thought traveling with two six-month-olds was gonna be smooth?”

Jack groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “I was hoping.” He glanced at the kids and sighed. “Man, I just can’t wait to get to Maryse. She’s gonna fix all this.”

“You mean you’re gonna hand them both to her and take a nap,”  Urban teased.

“Honestly?” Jack said with a tired grin. “You’re probably right”

They made their way to the car waiting to take them to Maryse hotel. As the driver loaded their luggage, Jack slumped into the backseat next to them, stealing a quick glance at his sleeping twins. “

“Finally,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his head back.

But as the car sped through the Paris streets, his exhaustion slowly shifted into excitement. He couldn’t wait to see Maryse’s face when he walked through that door—with her babies in tow.

Halfway to the hotel, Jack’s phone buzzed with a text from CoCo, Maryse’s manager. His eyebrows furrowed as he read it:

CoCo: Hey, just a heads-up—Maryse is at rehearsals, but she’s not really herself today. I think she’s missing you and the babies. You might want to swing by and surprise her. I think it’d do her some good.

Jack sighed, glancing at Urban, who was busy trying to entertain Noah with silly faces.

“What’s up?” Urban asked, noticing the change in his expression.

“CoCo says Maryse’s not acting like herself. Thinks she’s missing us,” Jack replied, looking back at the twins. “She said we should stop by rehearsals to surprise her.”

Urban smirked. “Man, you know she’s missing y’all. She’s been glued to those kids since they came out. Let’s do it.”

Jack leaned forward to the driver. “Change of plans. Can you take us to the venue instead of the hotel?”

“Of course,” the driver replied.

Noah started fussing again, and Jack handed him a bottle to keep him calm. “Alright, little man, we’re about to see Mama. No more tantrums, alright?”

London cooed from her seat, and Urban chuckled. “London’s the easy one. Noah? That’s your troublemaker right there.”

Jack shook his head with a tired smile. “They both have their days. Double trouble.”

As they pulled up to the rehearsal venue, Jack took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the long trip fade at the thought of surprising Maryse. He unbuckled Noah, while Urban handled London, both of them now wide-eyed and curious about their new surroundings.

“Alright, kids,” he said as they approached the doors. “Let’s go make Mama’s day.”

Maryse stood on stage, gripping the microphone tightly as she tried, once again, to hit the opening notes of the national anthem. A song she could normally perform in her sleep now felt like a mountain she couldn’t climb. She kept messing up—wrong key, missed breath, or tripping over a word. Each mistake sent a wave of frustration crashing over her.

“Alright, that’s enough for now,” she finally said, waving at the sound engineers. “I need five.”

She flopped down on the stage, her back hitting the floor with a dramatic thud. Throwing her arm over her face, she groaned quietly.

Why can’t I get this right? The thought played on repeat in her mind. Between missing the twins, worrying about the performance, and dealing with the guilt of leaving her babies, everything felt heavier than usual.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the soft sound of footsteps approaching until she felt a sudden, tiny pressure on her stomach. Her eyes flew open, and there, on top of her, was a smaller version of Jack—Noah.

“Noah!” she gasped, sitting up in shock as Noah leaned forward, his tiny face scrunched in determination as he planted the wettest, sloppiest kisses on her cheek.

She laughed, not even caring about the drool or the mess. Her arms wrapped around him instantly, holding him close as tears threatened to spill over.

“Oh my god, Noah!” she whispered, covering his little face in kisses of her own.

When she sat up fully, still clutching Noah, her eyes lifted to see the rest of her heart standing just a few feet away. Jack stood there, holding London, whose chubby cheeks lit up with a grin as she reached out for her. Behind them was Urban, a diaper bag slung over his shoulder, grinning like a proud uncle. 

“What—how—” she stammered, standing up with Noah in her arms. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you all till later tomorrow.”

“Surprise,” Jack said, his tired eyes softening as he handed London over.

Maryse took her daughter eagerly, pulling both babies close as she blinked back tears. “You must be so exhausted!”

“You were missing us, weren’t you?” Jack asked, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “CoCo might’ve snitched.”

Maryse let out a watery laugh, holding her babies tightly. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“We do,” Jack said softly, stepping closer to wrap an arm around her waist. “And we’re here now. All of us.”

In that moment, everything else faded—the pressure, the stress, the guilt. She was with her family again, and that was all that mattered.

The hotel room was finally quiet, the chaos of the day melting away. Maryse lay on the bed with Noah and London sprawled on her chest, both in deep sleep for the first time all day. She gently rubbed their backs, her fingers tracing soothing circles as she stared off into space, lost in thought.

The bathroom door opened, and Jack walked out, his hair damp, a towel slung low around his waist. Maryse’s eyes flicked to him, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip. Despite her exhaustion, a part of her couldn’t deny how much she missed him, in every way.

Jack caught her staring and smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You good over there?”

“Sure,” she replied, her voice low. “But you’re gonna need to put on some clothes because I’m already distracted.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he stood to grab a pair of pants. “Fine, fine. Can’t have you losing focus.”

Once dressed, he sat back down and leaned toward her, his expression soft but serious. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Maryse’s  brow furrowed. “Okay… What’s up?”

He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over the bedspread before he spoke. “Have you thought about maybe…talking to someone? Like a therapist?”

Her body stiffened instantly, and her guard went up. “A therapist? For what?”

“For you,” he said carefully. “I just… I’ve noticed how hard things have been for you lately. You’ve been overwhelmed, and with the twins, the performances, and everything else, I think it could help to talk to someone.”

Maryse gently placed the twins on the bed so that she could sit up. “I don’t need a therapist. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

Jack sighed, his voice calm and patient. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with you. But you’ve been through a lot, babe. Pregnancy, postpartum, leaving the kids for the first time—it’s a lot. You’ve been carrying it all, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that alone.”

Her eyes softened, but she still shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“You’re not fine,” he said gently, reaching over to place his hand on hers. “And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong, and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad mom. It just means you’re human. I just want you to be okay—for yourself, for me, and for them.” He glanced down at the sleeping twins, his voice laced with emotion.

When she stayed quiet, he continued. “You never really talked to anyone after the stalker broke into our apartment either. You just kept going like it didn’t shake you, but I know it did. You’re carrying all of this stuff, and I just don’t want it to get heavier.”

Maryse’s defenses crumbled slightly, her fingers brushing over Noah’s hair. “You really think I need to talk to someone?”

“I think it could help,” he said honestly. “You don’t have to decide now, but just think about it, alright? For me?”

She nodded reluctantly, her voice softer now. “Okay… I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Jack said, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

Backstage at the closing ceremony, the air buzzed with energy as Maryse prepared to step into the spotlight. Jack sat in the corner, gently rocking the stroller back and forth, his eyes locked on her. Urban snapped candid shots of her as she adjusted her all-white suit, brushing a hand nervously through her hair. Jack could tell from her small, fidgety movements that she was feeling the weight of the moment, but he also couldn’t stop marveling at how breathtaking she looked.

The crisp white suit fit her perfectly, exuding elegance and power. It reminded him of a future he’d been quietly dreaming about: her walking toward him in a different white outfit, down an aisle, with the same mixture of nerves and confidence.

She turned toward him, crossing the room to check on the babies. Her lips found Noah’s forehead, then London’s, as she murmured a few soft words to each of them. When her eyes finally met Jack’s, she noticed the way he was watching her—intense, unblinking, and full of admiration.

“What?” she asked softly, a nervous laugh slipping out as she straightened her suit jacket.

“You’re just… so beautiful,” he said simply, his voice low and steady.

Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, fiddling with the buttons on her cuff. “Stop staring at me like that.”

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Why? I like making you nervous.”

She gave him a look, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered smoothly.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that followed. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, brushing a hand over Noah’s tiny fist before walking toward the stage entrance.

As she disappeared from view, Jack chest swelled with pride and love. She might’ve been nervous, but to him, she looked every bit like the star she was born to be.

***

AN: 🥹 hope you all love this

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[leifyposting]

Klee’s fortnightly sleepover at the Gunnhildr mansion, originally some scheme cooked up by Lisa to force Jean to bed on time at least once every two weeks, has devolved somewhat into an opportunity for all the people who love Klee to gather for dinner at Jean’s place and swap stories and gossip far too late into the night.

But now Klee is in bed and the dining room is quiet, and Albedo, who is the last one out, having had the honour of putting Klee to bed tonight, is stepping out into the crisp fall air.

He turns around and looks up at the figure of the Acting Grand Master silhouetted in the doorframe. She seems softer, like this, with the strong lines of her body blurred by the golden light of her foyer lamp.

“Thank you for coming, Albedo,” she says. “I had a lovely evening. I know Klee did too.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, the polite human response coming instantly to his tongue. 

It is almost too easy, these days, blending in among the humans. He is a far cry from the awkward, socially inept homunculus he was only a few years ago, the one whose mannerisms marked him out as other even if not necessarily as inhuman. The vendors in the marketplace smile at him now when he passes — and, which is more, he finds himself smiling back.

And he forgets, day by day, little by little, who he really is. And he forgets that he does not belong here.

Which is perhaps why he says: “Master Jean, can I ask you a question?”

She shifts, her head tilting. “Of course.”

“How far would you go to protect Mondstadt?”

She blinks down at him, apparently thrown. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” he clarifies, “if for some reason Mondstadt was in danger because of me. Or, to make it more tangible, if I had put Klee in danger somehow. Would you kill me?”

She makes a tiny, horrified noise. “Why are we talking about this hypothetical?”

“I’m a man of science,” he says, letting his voice tip halfway to joking. “Humour me.”

He watches the protests hover on her tongue before she swallows them down. “Walk me through the scenario again.”

“It’s quite simple,” he says. “The context doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I have put Klee and the rest of Mondstadt in danger somehow, and the only way to save her is to kill me. Would you?”

Jean swallows, but he can see her answer in the set of her jaw even before she opens her mouth. “Yes,” she says. “I would.”

Albedo nods. This is the answer he was looking for. He is the anomaly, the transgression, the liability; she must be willing to kill him to save the people they both love. He shouldn’t feel as betrayed as he does.

“Still,” Jean says, before he can thank her and turn to leave, “there must be other options.”

“Pardon?”

“Either I kill you or I let Klee die. Why are those my only two choices?”

“I…” He trails off. “Just because.”

She shakes her head. “From a man of science, that’s not very scientific.”

He laughs a little incredulously. “I suppose I never saw any other way forward.”

“Well, the forced dilemma is part of the fun,” Jean allows graciously. “But real life is messier than that.”

“I think, in this hypothetical, there would be no other options.”

She makes a low, noncommittal noise. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying that maybe you aren’t seeing the whole picture.”

“How do you mean?” he asks, echoing her earlier words.

“I mean…” She pauses. “Eula is out in the field a lot, so she sees much more of the day-to-day workings of the Knights than I do. But as the Acting Grand Master, I have a bird’s-eye view of the organization as a whole. As a result, when faced with a quandary, she often offers solutions I would never have come up with on my own, and vice versa.” She makes a small motion with her hand, like she’s going to touch his shoulder, then drops it again. “That’s why we have people around us. So they can catch things we miss.”

“I see,” Albedo says. 

Jean’s blue-grey eyes, shadowed in the dim light, search his face. He fights the urge to look away from that piercing gaze. 

“I would hope,” she says finally, her voice low, “that if you believed you were a danger to yourself or others, you would come to me. I’m not saying I can always help. But the Knights look after our own, Captain.”

“I see,” Albedo says again. His chest is tight. “Thank you, Master Jean.”

She scrutinizes him for a moment more, then smiles a small smile. “I hope my answer was satisfactory?”

“Very much so.”

She looks relieved. “Oh, good. I was worried I wasn’t making much sense there.” 

“You made perfect sense,” he reassures her, strangely endeared by her earnestness. “But now it’s late, and you should get to bed. I’ll take my leave.”

“Very well. Have a good night, Albedo,” she says.

He turns away, and watches the sliver of golden light from the foyer fade into shadow as the door shuts. The chill autumn air threads around his ankles as he sets his feet towards home.

If he ever loses control, she will not be able to save him. He knows that already. 

Still, it is nice to know that she would try.

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play // Chapter 11 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, PinV, public adjacent sex, rough sex, minor cnc dynamics, multiple POV, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, aggressive hockey players, possessive male, protective male.

Fanclub: @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @beaker1636 @missduffsblog @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @rumoured-whispers @sorrowsofsilence @sundamariis @letmeadoreyoux @lilrubles @shilohrosechicken @mysticdoodlez @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @somebodyels3 @missduffsblog

Shout out to @flowery-mess who has been loving this series at every turn! Thank you 🙏

Sarah's POV

We stepped off the bus in Orlando, just outside the towering ice rink, I could smell the muggy salt of the air and the humidity hit me like a truck. The game wasn't for several more hours, but our team's media and PR representatives were already in full swing, eager to capture crucial pre-game moments of the players entering their new territory before they hit the ice.

I hadn't traveled with the team all that often, opting to stay home for most games. But this time, things were changing. The Otters, a newly formed team in the Orlando area, were in need of more players to help build up their roster, and a new nurse position had opened up. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up, even though I hadn't really told anyone about it, except for Jack. I knew my father would likely try to persuade me to stay by his side, which, if I'm being honest, hadn't been so bad lately. But then there was Noah - the complicated, brooding asshole who had been the source of so much tension and unspoken feelings since the season started. Ever since our stolen moment in the supply room, he had become distant, barely looking at me or speaking to me, and his aggression on the ice at the last game had been more intense than I'd seen in a while. Maybe, I thought, this move to a new team, far away from the drama and the complicated situationship, could be the fresh start I needed, the chance to finally find some clarity and peace, away from the emotional turmoil that had been weighing me down.

As I stepped into the bustling entry dock, I took my spot next to Veronica and Ashley, the public relations manager and our social media extraordinaire. The air was electric with anticipation as the players began to file in, each one acutely aware of the watchful eyes and cameras trained upon them. Ashley was animatedly pointing and leaning in close to her assistant, instructing her on the ideal angles and lighting needed for the best social media shots. From what I could overhear, her assistant would be responsible for capturing the still images while Ashley herself moved in to secure high-quality video footage.

The players, who had endured this routine countless times before, entered the dock with a practiced nonchalance. They moved with an effortless grace, spacing themselves evenly and resisting the urge to hurry through the gauntlet of media attention. It was almost comical to watch these towering, broad-shouldered athletes attempt to affect an air of casual indifference, as if tall, handsome men in tailored three-piece suits strolling through a throng of cameras was an everyday occurrence.

Sanchez was the first to catch my eye as he strode in alone, his left hand casually tucked into the pocket of his sleek gray suit. His dark hair was styled back with a liberal application of gel, giving him a polished, sophisticated look, and his face was clean-shaven, allowing his Rolex to take center stage on his wrist. As he passed our little trio, he turned his head slightly, lowering his sunglasses just enough to lock eyes with me before giving a subtle wink and pushing the frames back up his nose. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his blatant display of cockiness - he was the epitome of an athlete who truly believed he owned the team.

Veronica leaned in close, whispering in my ear with the same tone of disgust that I felt, "He thinks he runs the show, doesn't he?" We watched as the rest of the team filed through, each one distinct in their own way. Ruffilo and Pierce walked side-by-side, engrossed in a deep conversation, while Nick's dark hair was neatly tied back in a clean bun, his charcoal suit devoid of a tie. In contrast, Pierce had opted for a periwinkle suit that perfectly complemented his sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

As McClain and Sanders glided past, their shoulders brushing together in perfect sync, I could barely tear my eyes away from the captivating scene unfolding before me. Noah and Karlsson, the dynamic duo, strolled by playfully shoving one another, their pearly white smiles lighting up the room. I had expected Noah to don a classic black suit, perhaps even mirroring Karlsson's ensemble, but the two had decidedly gone above and beyond for their grand entrance. Noah's lithe frame was impeccably fitted in a rich, wine-colored suit, the three buttons fastened neatly as his black shirt peeked out ever-so-slightly at the collar. In contrast, Jolly's dark navy ensemble was left intentionally unbuttoned, the tails of his jacket open as he casually slid his hands into his pockets, forgoing a tie and leaving the top buttons of his shirt undone for a relaxed, effortless look.

Veronica's sultry voice suddenly broke my train of thought, her bottom lip slipping between her perfectly veneered teeth as a cherry red gloss glistened on her lips. "Now that's a media shot," she purred, her gaze fixed intently on the stylishly dressed players. Grateful for the distraction, I quickly reached for my buzzing phone, relieved to see the number for the Otters medical director displayed on the screen.

The sudden interruption provided the perfect excuse to extricate myself from the uncomfortable situation I had found myself in. Hastily excusing myself, I hurried to answer the call, eager to shift my attention elsewhere. To my pleasant surprise, the caller was none other than the medical director for the Otters, the opposing team we were playing against. "Good afternoon, Ms. Brody," the director greeted me warmly. "We noticed the team arrived safe and well, and I was wondering if you might have time to meet with us now, rather than waiting until our originally scheduled 4 o'clock meeting?"

Without hesitation, I eagerly accepted the invitation, practically sprinting towards the locker rooms as I hung up the phone. Weaving my way through the throngs of players, I made my way down the hallway, following the director's detailed instructions to locate the home team's lounge and the conference room where they awaited me.

Just as I was about to reach my destination, I was stopped in my tracks by the familiar voice of Pierce. "Hey, where are you headed in such a hurry?" he inquired, his brow furrowing with curiosity. Caught off guard, I hastily concocted a flimsy excuse about needing to meet with the medical staff to stay up-to-date on the latest care and treatment protocols. The words felt clumsy and unconvincing as they left my lips, and I could see the skepticism etched across Pierce's face. "Okay, well, make sure you take notes," he replied, a hint of teasing in his tone. "We like having you around, wouldn't want to lose you 'cause of an error or anything."

As I watched him rejoin his teammates, a curious mix of emotions washed over me. Pierce's parting words had struck a chord, leaving me feeling unexpectedly touched. It was the first time I had heard any of the players express that they genuinely enjoyed my presence and valued the work I did. In that moment, I found myself reluctant to continue on to the meeting, my previous eagerness replaced by a newfound hesitation and a desire to linger in the warmth of Pierce's unexpected acknowledgment.

I made my way into the conference room, my palms sweating and heart pounding, I couldn't help but feel completely out of my element. I shook hands with each member present, gave my best smile taking a seat across the table from them. Here I was, a highly qualified and experienced nurse, the panel before me was an intimidating one - a group of stern-faced doctors and athletic trainers, all of them seasoned veterans in their fields. I tried to sit up straight and appear confident, but inside I was a bundle of nerves. What did I have to offer? Sure my academic and rotation skills were some of the best in my class, and I recently had some hockey experience. I had spent years honing my skills, earning certifications and accolades, but now all of that felt inadequate as I faced this daunting interview. The head doctor, a broad-shouldered man with a graying beard, began firing questions at me rapid-fire, grilling me on my experience with athletic injuries, my familiarity with the unique demands placed on professional athletes' bodies, and my ability to think quickly and adapt in high-pressure situations. I did my best to respond articulately, highlighting my extensive trauma training and my calm, level-headed approach even in the most chaotic circumstances. But I could see the skepticism in their eyes - these were people who pushed their bodies to the absolute limit every day, and they needed someone who could keep up.

As the interview progressed, I found myself increasingly unsure of my chances. The team trainer, a stern-faced woman with piercing eyes, seemed particularly unimpressed by my answers. I worried that my personal background with the current team's coach would be seen as a weakness, that they would view me as someone who wouldn’t have gotten the job without her father.

As the interview finally concluded, a sense of dread and self-doubt began to creep over me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had utterly botched the entire process, completely failing to showcase my true skills and capabilities. All the confidence I had mustered up beforehand had evaporated, replaced by a crippling insecurity that left me longing to retreat back to the familiar comforts of my team. With heavy steps, I made my way through the bustling locker room, bypassing the lively camaraderie and boisterous music that normally would have lifted my spirits. Instead, I felt isolated and out of place, my sole focus being to reach the small, tucked-away office where my dad and Jack were waiting.

The moment I stepped inside, their eyes immediately locked onto me, and I could feel the flush of embarrassment creeping across my cheeks as my glassy eyes betrayed the inner turmoil I was experiencing. My dad, sensing my distress, reached out with a gentle concern, using the childhood nickname he hadn't uttered in years - "Firefly, what's wrong?" I took a deep, steadying breath, struggling to hold back the sniffles that threatened to escape as I recounted the disastrous interview.

"Daddy, don't get mad, but I thought I would be a good fit for the Otters as their head nurse. I had an interview scheduled for four o'clock, but they moved it up to just forty minutes ago. Daddy, it was brutal - I felt so out of my league, and I'm convinced I didn't answer any of the questions right. I feel like I absolutely fucked it up." The words tumbled out, laced with disappointment and self-doubt that I couldn't quite shake.

As Jack quietly excused himself and retreated from the office, shutting the door behind him, I felt tension settling in the air. My father, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation, gently placed the stack of papers he had been reviewing down on the desk before him. Taking a long, steadying breath, he turned to face me, his gaze conveying a mixture of concern and affection. "Is being here so bad?" he asked, the weight of his words hanging heavily between us.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I struggled to find the right words. "No, daddy, that's not it," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "It's just...I'm an adult now, and I don't want people to think that I only got this job because you're my dad. I don't want them to think that, because you're my father, I can get away with whatever I want." The admission spilled forth, my fears and insecurities laid bare before him.

My father's expression softened, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sweetie, I didn't pick you because you were my daughter, although that would be reason enough," he said, as I wiped the tears from my cheek. "I picked you because your skills were exceptional. I've seen your grades, your clinical evaluations, and I've heard nothing but great things from your professors." He held up a hand, silencing my attempt to argue. "And don't even try to tell me they said those things because I'm your father. I had Jack call, and no one knew you were my daughter when we spoke to them."

Stepping around the desk, my father enveloped me in a warm, comforting embrace, his strong arms offering a sense of security and reassurance. "Sweetie, I'm sure you nailed it. If they extend the offer, I advise you to do what you think is best - stay or go. Either way, your daddy is proud of you." His words, spoken with unwavering conviction, soothed the anxieties that had been weighing so heavily on my mind, and I found myself melting into his embrace, my fears slowly dissipating as I basked in the unconditional love and support of my father.

Noah’s POV

The sweat chills my forehead as we battle in the heat of the game, muscles burning with the exertion. My left calf throbs with a sharp ache - sometime in the first half, my leg had stretched out too far as I dove for the puck, the sudden overextension pulling at the tender muscle. But there's no time to nurse the injury, not when the Otters are pressing us so relentlessly. They may be leading us by a mere two points, but their seamless teamwork and razor-sharp communication puts our own disjointed efforts to shame. Our captain seems disinterested in coordinating the team, preferring to simply bark orders and expect us to fall in line without any real guidance. One small fuck up and he's quick to berate us, his face twisted into a snarl behind the bite guard clenched between his teeth. I can see the tension in every line of his body as he carves furious paths across the ice, desperately trying to regain control of the game - a game that seems to be slipping through his fingers despite his best efforts. The Otters may have the advantage in skill and strategy, but our own internal discord could very well be our downfall if we don't find a way to come together as a cohesive unit, and soon.

Players from both teams converge in a frenzied scrum at the end of the ice, their skates carving up the frozen surface as they jostle and shove for position. The Otters' center and his flanking teammates are locked in a desperate search, their eyes scanning the chaos for any opening, any sliver of space they can exploit to get a shot on goal. In the midst of the melee, McClain is zeroed in, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the puck as if it were a venomous rattlesnake coiled at his feet, ready to strike. I try to keep track of the elusive rubber disc, but in the heat of the moment, Sanchez comes barreling through, shoving past me and nearly knocking me off balance and onto the ice. Just as I regain my footing, Jolly glides up behind me, lending a steadying hand and helping me find my edges again as the players crash violently into the boards, all of them clawing and scraping in a fierce battle for possession of the puck.

The deafening roar of the crowd quickly gives way to a stunned, eerie silence as the sickening sound of the violent collision echoes through the packed arena. It's a chaotic blur of bodies and jerseys as the players collide, limbs tangling together in a violent frenzy. Suddenly, fists are flying and a wooden stick is snapped in half, the pieces clattering to the ice as the referees rush in to try to separate the brawling athletes. Teammates frantically scramble to pull their players back, desperate to deescalate the ugly situation.

"Charlie!" one of the Otters players shouts out in anguish over the panicked screams of the crowd, and as the bodies clear, my eyes catch the horrific sight. The fallen center lies motionless on the ice, his limbs twisted at unnatural, sickening angles. A dark, ominous pool of red is spreading beneath his left arm, the crimson liquid contrasting against the white ice. The crowd watches in a stunned, horrified trance, the only sound a hushed, disbelieving whisper escaping my lips: "Fuck."

The scene was nothing short of harrowing, as all eyes remained fixated on the crumpled, motionless figure lying on the frozen surface. In a frantic blur of movement, the medics rushed to him, their swift actions cutting through the eerie stillness that had descended upon the arena. The spectators, gripped by dread, waited with bated breath.

As the officials carefully surveyed the ice, assessing the aftermath of the recent scuffle, one of the referees suddenly caught sight of something that immediately piqued his interest. Peering down, I noticed a faint trail of red leading away from the Otter's center, the faded lines disappearing beneath the skates of my own teammate. Sanchez, unbothered, stood calmly with his stick resting casually on the frozen surface, his eyes locking momentarily with those of the officiating crew. And with a sickening, almost taunting sneer, he turned and began making a beeline straight for the penalty box.

***

"What the fuck was that, Sanchez?" my accusatory question hung in the air, laced with the bitterness of a game that had slipped through our fingers. The injury earlier had been the turning point, the moment where everything unraveled and our hard-fought efforts came crashing down. With their center replaced, the Otters had seized the momentum, and try as we might, we just couldn't regain footing, sinking deeper into the agony of defeat.

“What the fuck was what, Sebastian?” he growled at me.

Following the end of the game the rest of the team, still clad in their sweat-soaked uniforms, confronted him relentlessly, voices raised in a cacophony of outrage.

"You fucking brutalized him!" one teammate shouted, the accusation hanging heavy in the air as Sanchez, freshly showered and changed, met their gaze with a defiant shrug.

"Did you see me brutalize him?" he sneered, shrugging his shoulders as he drawled, “It was an accident.”

"Bullshit!" Pierce screamed from across the locker room unwilling to accept Sanchez's nonchalant dismissal of the incident that had cost them the game. Faces were ready and adrenaline was high, I was about to pull back and sock my fist into his smug face when coach barreled into the room.

"Sit the fuck down, all of you!" he bellowed, his voice booming through the tense silence. Collectively, we scrambled to obey, eyes locked on the coach as we settled onto the bench. Coach's hands twisted and clenched, his eyes bulging with barely-contained fury. "That was some bullshit out there," he spat, his words laced with venom. "You played like thieves, not like a team at all. This is NOT how I trained you."

Nick, unable to hold his tongue, suddenly blurted out, "It's all Sanchez's fault!" The accusation hung in the air, drawing a swift retort from Sanders. "Coach, I think Sanchez should be in trouble for this, not us!" he countered.

But coach would have none of it, his booming voice silencing the bickering. "I don't want to hear the blame game!" he bellowed, his face flushed a deep crimson. Turning his gaze to Sanchez, his expression hardened. "Sanchez, your playing for this season is under review. Pending Owens' injury assessment."

At the mention of Owens, a hush fell over the team, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily. I could barely choke out the words past the rage in my throat. "How is he?" I asked, my voice trembling. Coach’s expression softened ever so slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

“At the moment, can't feel his fingers. Sarah and Leo are helping the nursing team with him before sending him to the hospital.” Coach took a deep shaky breath, “I want everyone to shower, pack up and be ready to go. No talking, I want silence. You are all punished, as of this moment you are no longer an NHL team on the way to winning the cup, you are now a rookie team who could learn some manners through discipline.” he stormed away leaving the rest of us sitting in guilt ridden silence. The air in the locker room was thick with tension and unease as we sat in stunned silence, the weight of Coach's words hanging heavily over us.

My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through my veins, as I stared at the spot where he had stormed out, his booming voice still echoing in my ears. I couldn't believe it - one moment we had been riding high, on the cusp of victory, and the next everything had come crashing down around us. Sanchez gripped his gear bag, tossing it over his shoulder as he left the locker room.

“I hope Sarah and Leo can help him.” Jolly's low, hushed voice carried through the silence.

“She’s good, she’ll figure it out.” My little fox knows her stuff. I had full confidence that she was the one who could uncover the truth. She was sharp, determined, and wouldn't rest until she got to the bottom of this. I knew she had the skills and the drive to dig into Owen's medical report and find the evidence we needed to take down Sanchez.

“We need a new captain.” Nick declared, the team collectively nodding their heads.

“We should take a vote,” Pierce offered “Give it to Coach when we get back to Santa Monica.”

“Sanchez won’t go quietly,” McClain warned.

“We need a solid replacement if we are going to go for that target.”

The debate soured and I drowned out the voices, ignoring it all as we each took our showers. The walk back to the bus, and arriving at the hotel was coated in deadly silence. Jolly and I made it to our room and I tossed my gear off in the corner, Jolly flopped on the bed kicking his shoes off letting them fly across the room. I stared at my bed, hands in my pockets deep in thought. My little fox. I hadn’t seen her, felt her, talked to her in weeks-had I fucked it up? My eyes glanced over at the NDA agreement hidden secretly in my backpack. I didn’t need to read it.

The journey back to the hotel had been cloaked in a stifling silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts and unanswered questions hanging heavy in the air. Reaching the hotel, I tossed my gear aside carelessly, the thud as it hit the floor barely registering. Jolly flung himself onto the bed, kicking off his shoes with a frustrated huff, sending them flying across the room. I stood there, hands jammed deep into my pockets, my gaze fixed on the empty mattress before me. The memory of her - my little fox-lingered, a phantom presence that I hadn't been able to reach in weeks.

Had I truly messed things up this time?

My eyes darted to the backpack where the NDA agreement lay hidden. I had signed it the night I got it. I didn't need to re-read the terms; they were seared into my mind. Now, with Sanchez's unsportsmanlike outburst threatening to bring the relentless media vultures circling our team once more, I knew I would need to rely on that NDA to cover my tracks - and hers. Any hint of scandal, any whisper of impropriety, would no doubt be dredged up and paraded before the world as if our team were some twisted reality TV spectacle. I had to protect myself, had to shield us both from the consequences should our clandestine relationship ever be exposed. That NDA would save me from being fired by the coach, certainly, but it would do nothing to stop him from hating me as her father.

But you know what, I didn’t care anymore.

[futuretrain]

very good post, thank you. i love the idea of fuyumi, but her execution is very shallow and isolated, if it makes sense? and not in the way that the childhoods of todoroki kids were isolating, but in terms of storytelling. all of the todoroki siblings are like that, including shouto, because each of them and their experience and trauma get evaluated separately, and then they simply have to come together to stop touya. they talk for a bit, sure (like the very and i mean *very* brief discussion that shouto and fuyumi got to have after the family dinner in the endeavor agency arc), but we don't get to see them have much in way of interaction together without endeavor being just. there and dominating the panel space and sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

it's disheartening, because it leaves so much unaddressed. each of the siblings circle their recovery/processing around endeavor, when, considering how the subplot of the todoroki family started, it should have been about the siblings, together. shouto said "i forgot all about you", and that helped him self-realize for a moment as a whole person, not one part of a quirk and one part of legacy expectation.

and yet endeavor's presence entirely dominates the subplot thereon and to the very end of the story. the todoroki kids become extensions to endeavor's character and tools to prop him up as needed, and fuyumi, especially, i feel gets it terrible. she gets to say once that she feels a lot of the same as natsuo, yet she never gets to actually express it - it's just a throwaway line. what she is written to do (and what is never explored in relation to shouto himself or his relationship with fuyumi or fuyumi's mental state and thought process) is create convenient opportunities for endeavor to engage with shouto in a non-professional atmosphere. it's fuyumi who gets used to organize the family (and interns/friends) dinner during endeavor agency, so endeavor doesn't have to force his son who's just declared that he won't behave to him like his son during the internship to endure his presence in a personal setting, because that would make endeavor look like even more of a selfish insincere dick. it's fuyumi who gives endeavor shouto's phone number so endeavor can blow his phone up with messages during school hours(!!!), so endeavor doesn't have to work to obtain his number in a different and more intentional and forceful way, because that would make endeavor look like even more of a selfish insincere dick.

i feel like you may be on to something with the fuyumi-eri comparison, because they are characters who are used as plot devices/props and as ways for the story to answer difficult questions without really answering. for fuyumi, it's this. for eri, it's the unspoken question hovering menacingly over the entirety of mha: what should be done with people whose quirks are too strong and dangerous. even though i find the saving of eri very powerful and an overall very good moment, the logic itself that deku uses - saying that eri's quirk is healing him, ergo it's a kind quirk, ergo eri deserves to be saved - i find very dangerous, for the simple reason that it refuses to engage with the possibility that someone's quirk may not be capable of kind things, so the answer in the end by exclusion posits that people whose powerful dangerous quirks cannot perform good actions do not deserve to be saved. and that idea permeates the story till the end - if only toga had known love before, if only she'd been better, she would've wanted to be kind - to give blood instead of taking it. afo could've been the kindest quirk. till the end, the story refuses to consider that a person may not be kind, and still deserve salvation, and only dreams of worlds where that they were just kinder, so as to fit the profile of someone who deserves to be saved.

TW: ABUSE, CHILD ABUSE

“He wants to air this dirty laundry to the world does he…? Dabi, you fiend…you’ve been waiting for this moment…when they couldn’t prevent mass destruction…and faith in heroes is wavering.” - chapter 292

I truly, wholeheartedly, believe that MHA as a story upholds the myth of the perfect victim. I do not want to discuss if Horikoshi did that on purpose, or subconsciously because of inner bias – I find no meaning in doing so. For me the execution of an idea, in the grand scheme of the narrative, holds more value than the intention of the author. I’ve also had my fair share of people infantilizing Asian authors in the anime community for their poor writing decisions for one lifetime. It’s patronizing to both the author and the people reading it. Whether or not Horikoshi intended for his themes of abuse to paint the picture they did does not matter, because that’s how it reads as.

MHA puts victims of abuse in narrow boxes and softly dictates what’s an acceptable reaction to said abuse. Victims are continuously walking a tightrope between being deserving of compassion and sympathy and being unredeemable monsters who are too far gone and are only good for martyrdom after being put down.  

Eri fits the clean cut depiction of abuse victims that media usually gears towards. She is untouched by the cruelty around her - she preserves her innocence and kindness. She isn't assertive, but rather meek and passive. She doesn't fight back with force. And when offered help, she is receptive to it. That is not to say that Eri's depiction doesn't have a place in fiction, or that her portrayal can't be representative of the experiences of some - as we all deal with trauma and the inhumanity people throw at us differently. We see the same thing in the portrayal of Fuyumi, who shares many of the qualities discussed above. The same thing applies to her - i personally love the idea of all the siblings having different reaction to their childhood trauma and abuse. It shows that victims are not some type of monolith.

But the narrative treats the "forgiving" or "receptive to help/support" victims of abuse with more grace and with much more kindness. if you are willing to forgive, or the very least be quietly tolerant, the story grants you a happy ending. Forgiveness isn't a bad thing, it is an individual choice - but an abuse victim shouldn't have to do it for them to have a happy ending.

In a vacuum Eri and Fuyumi's character arcs and depictions of abuse are good but it becomes a problem when that's the only experience and type of victim we ever hold in high value or recognize as valid and deserving of compassion. Which the story reinforces.

Touya and Tenko's backstories aren't pretty nor comfortable or easy to sit through. Their responses to abuse aren't either. Reactive abuse is very much real.

[prismatoxic]

alright im here to say: ramble abt the "awful boys" pls! You can share any fun facts abt them or just abt matt or even just share out of context facts abt the lore! (that'd be very funny) ✨

IF YOU'RE SURE... I CAN CERTAINLY DO THAT...

despite not being "mine", arguably felix actually is mine, just as much as matt is max's. we share them so much that they haven't really developed outside of that context, so a lot of things about them are entwined... though that said i do have a more solid grasp on matt since he is the one i made and largely craft the lore for. if there's anything i don't feel comfortable speculating on for felix i can always ask max what he thinks though

i don't really remember everything i've actually posted here, although i think i've largely been vague on tumblr with the exception of the lore dump under matt's new ref. i can reshare that and maybe felix's backstory as well, but first i'll just share some facts and lore tidbits

also this got So Long so here's a cut

felix met the original matthew once. at a company party, matthew had come along at his father's insistence, and really didn't want to be there. his father introduced him to felix--probably flippantly, they're closer in age than matthew is with most other people there but also the old CEO resented felix and wasn't exactly trying to include him in anything--but the conversation went nowhere. the next time felix saw him, matthew was dead and the godking had taken his place as "matt". (we have an au where the conversation did go somewhere and they actually started "dating", which is just even more awful for poor matthew than what he canonically goes through. felix shouldn't ever date other humans, he's a toxic cesspit)

there's an underworld of demons that has direct connections to the company, both in location and in business. it's part of why matt finds it so interesting. in the canon/"just me and max" version of the story, the demons working at the company are generally pretty good at being covert and are rarely noticed. once matt shows up, suddenly none of them go to the top floor, quickly hurrying out of the way if he's on other floors. felix notices, one of the several things that brings him to the conclusion of something being weird about matt before the truth is forced out.

(there's another version of the story where we've involved several friends, most of whom made demon ocs, though some made other entities. matt remains the only entity of his kind in that version of the story, but the divide between him and other supernatural beings is less severe.)

when felix does find out about matt's true nature, it's not in any particularly descriptive way, and the best guess he can make is "angel of death". the existence of potentially-religious figures concerns him somewhat, as he was raised in a religious household and if hell is real, then brother, he's gonna have a bad time. that said, this particular assumption is what leads to one of his most common petnames for matt: "angel", which matt seems to actually enjoy, usually

on the topic of petnames--they both use them and both usually do so sarcastically or mockingly. "angel" is usually used that way, too. it's later in their relationship when any of them become fond; "angel" is one used in such a way, but matt doesn't have any that are so specific. he defaults to mushy stuff like "love," "beloved," and "darling." it's easy to assume he's still being sarcastic.

but don't be fooled by talk of gentle fondness and love. a lot of their early relationship is marked by dubcon and eroguro, along with dozens of other filthy things, and those mostly continue indefinitely (maybe not dubcon, but certainly cnc). matt can't be killed via normal means and he can always bring felix back; with no consequences, they can do such horrible things, and felix's top kinks happen to include "snuff". how lucky he is! (i told you he's a toxic cesspit)

even so... they do love each other. maybe not at the start, no, but as things progress, absolutely. and neither thinks it's worth holding onto. for felix, matt certainly will never feel the same; for matt, it's simply foolish to feel such a way about a mortal. and yet... every time he brings felix back from death, he imbues him with some of his own stardust. felix doesn't know it's happening until his own powers start manifesting and he starts feeling matt's emotions. even then, matt brushes off his involvement in those things happening.

i actually wrote a little story about one of the defining moments of their relationship, a turning point for them both (but especially felix). i meant to post it here and never did. maybe i'll do that. anyway

matt has always inherited memories and desires from those he devoured, but upon leaving a vessel he's often lost big parts of that. even so, the person he is now feels like an amalgam of all those he's eaten, and he has... surprisingly huge identity issues. he's kind of shaken when he realizes he's started thinking of this vessel as himself, not just "the body". he's never lived a life so full in any of his vessels, never had cause to tether himself to one identity. it scares him. but... he doesn't want to leave. felix is still here.

on that note, he inherited a few kinks from matthew that he's not really ready for. matthew never got to act on them, but matt can, and he does--much to felix's delight. watching matt turn into a drooling whimpering mess is such a treat.

i'm exhausted so idk how many more things i can easily rattle off. but you're welcome to ask more stuff!

here, have the malix playlist:

and below i'll put these guys' backstories, just because

Matt

The Godking is a young cosmic entity from an unknowable place somewhere out in the universe. He used to enter relationships with older beings, but as a younger being he was rarely fully respected; as a result, he became obsessed with the idea of gaining the sort of power that would force the others to acknowledge him as a peer. Crafting a divine dagger with parts of his own being, he used it to kill his partners, devouring their essences to absorb their powers. 

His last cosmic partner was an arachnid-like being who saw him for what he was before he could murder them. While they were unable to take his dagger, they still nearly killed him in the ensuing fight, and in the wake of the battle he was banished from his home dimension for his crimes. In his banishment, he lost his original form, left to wander the cosmos as a formless cluster of stardust.

He eventually ended up on Earth, drawn by the presence of supernatural beings mingling with the humans, as well as the humans themselves. He found himself enamored with the concept of human religion—of gods and deities that were worshiped for their control over the world. This was where he adopted the moniker Godking, an apt description of his influence on the humans who idolized him. For millennia he drifted from project to project, forming cults in his own name or joining human settlements to play with some of the residents, stealing the bodies of singular members to become "prophets" delivering the word of their new God. Inevitably, he always got bored, killing his favored toys so they couldn't exist without him and abandoning those who worshiped him. 

Not too long ago, the CEO of a successful company used ancient texts from one of the Godking's religions to invoke his name, asking for his aid in making the company prosper beyond his wildest dreams. Amused by the request, the Godking gave his word, then used his hypnosis abilities to drive the CEO mad to get him out of the way. Needing a new vessel to "fulfill the agreement" (a conscious choice, as he isn't the sort to be bound by deals or laws), he devoured the soul of the CEO's son, Matthew, assuming ownership of his body and using it to take over the company. 

He's grown fond of the name Matt, and in truth has also grown fond of Matthew's body, though he does frequently alter it to suit his needs. It's been some time since he enjoyed a specific form so much. It helps, perhaps, that a specific high ranking member of the company—the only person to have broken through the illusion to discover the sinister truth underneath—seems to like this form too.

He needs to leave it eventually, of course, lest his essence get so tangled up in it that breaking away gets difficult. Surely that won't be hard. 

Felix

Felix was born to an incredibly average family out in the suburbs, not too far from the city where he works now. By all accounts, he was a very normal child; he was pleasant, if a bit withdrawn, and wore very normal clothes, had a very normal haircut, and kept his room very plain. His interests were few and nothing noteworthy, and his performance in school was decent. 

Of course, all of that was only what outsiders saw—his extended family, school peers who didn't share classes with him, and the many mental health professionals his parents sent him to all considered him to be a normal, plain child. Anyone who spent a little more time with him could tell there was something wrong. His immediate family, closest to him by virtue of living with him, actively considered him a threat.

Felix was prone to killing and dissecting small animals, blatantly lying to manipulate others, collecting blackmail material whenever an opportunity presented itself, and generally intimidating anyone who could be pushed around in such a way. While many of his traits could potentially be explained by sociopathy, Felix was never formally diagnosed with anything, charming anyone who may have been able to into thinking he was fine. Perhaps his parents waited too long to get him looked at. Or perhaps Felix was always a conniving sadist, something within him darker than any mental disorder could explain.

Having since moved out of the suburbs and largely distanced himself from his family, Felix lives in an apartment with two roommates and works at the company Matt took over. When the old CEO was still in charge, Felix used his skills to blackmail the man extensively, gaining a position perilously close to the C-suite with the intentions to move even higher when the chance manifested. He was blindsided, as were many others, when the old CEO was institutionalized and his son inherited his company. Yet as the other executives and employees easily took to Matt's presence, Felix was furious that his plans had been disrupted... and cautious of the ways in which something about Matt seemed off.

When attempts to learn more or get Matt under his thumb failed, Felix resorted to murder. He's resorted to murder a lot, over the years. He's never been caught, never been confronted, never been stopped—and never met someone who could shake off a bullet to the skull. 

Until now.

[bittersweetresilience]

can you be baited into talking about the good aesthetics of jingrenheng? the themes? please and thank you and have a nice day?

................okay... just for you anon...

they have complimentary color palettes! jing yuan has a lot of light associations, blade dark associations, and dan heng's teals are gradient or in between

they all have a symbolic plant of sorts, which sounds funny, but it looks pretty. the gingko and the spider lilies and the maple leaves. those are also red orange and yellow which mix well together. and imbibitor lunae has a lotus thing going on but he and dan heng mostly look visually similar

they have sun moon star symbolism. jing yuan is the sun, blade or should i say yingxing (应星) is the star, and dan heng or should i say imbibitor lunae (饮月君) is the moon. you could also argue that jing yuan (景元) is the world that the celestial bodies orbit in... the center of gravity, but also easy to overlook as an unchanging part of the surroundings...

dan heng is also wearing something associated with both of them. yes, The Relic™. BUT his coat also reads the same poem from which jing yuan took the name of starfall reverie

and lastly they are just three beautiful men okay it's impossible for them not to look aesthetic together

THE THEMES ✨

a guy running from his past, a guy chasing it down and driven perpetually by it, and a guy who can do nothing but hold onto it. it's like a soap drama of perfect proportions

someone who represents the right path, someone who represents the wrong path, and someone who represents the neutral path or trailblazes their own path

they were entangled in their previous lives and they remain entangled now, by their own will or otherwise. it can't get any better than this themewise.

renjing

i was going to say something about what each individual ship in the trio brings to the trio but i got distracted. what was i talking about again

okay, renheng has this 'thin line between love and hate going on' (因爱生恨) and it's about the extremes of passion to me. the hunter and the hunted. it's about the things from the past that should be shed but cannot be. then hengjing has the 'reconnecting through lives and through the mire of identity'. it's about forging a future uncolored by the mist of the past while also acknowledging that that past was there and meant something. then renjing has everything renjing has. renjing has

sorry i can't be objective about them renjing has everything because they are my babies

ANYWAY the point is when you put them together you net the ability to explore all of these different relationship dynamics at the same time plus trio dynamics like the mediation, the competition, each of them feeling left out in their own way, varying levels of memory, varying levels of history... a feast for the feasters

i also think jingrenheng successfully resolves all three of their issues in the sense that it's a relatively stable way for each of them to be able to recognize but also make peace with their past, and not let it impede their future. if jingrenheng actually experienced enough character development to get together and not kill each other, that would mean they have fixed things. a win for everybody.

[skeletalheartattack]

hi I like gelato a lot

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

I was curious What class was Magnolia family was? Do they have a good relationship with their daughter?

And how was the relationship between nolie's mother and father? ( Like do they hate or love each other or is it neutral)

thanks for answering 🪻

Hello there! Thanks for dropping by and giving me a chance to talk more about Nolie's family! ^_^

So, to answer your questions:

1. The Bensons (Magnolia's family) are part of the upper-middle class. Not super rich, but decently well off, thanks to the business they get from having their lodging house so close to one of the train stations in the City of London district.

2. Magnolia has a pretty good relationship with her parents for the most part. She butts heads more with her mom than her dad (he's the more laid-back parent of the two), but more than half the time they get along. lol

3. Lastly, Olivia and Thomas (Nolie's parents) actually love each other very much. Tom is more openly affectionate out of the two (sometimes embarrassingly so, hehe), whereas Olivia is more private - but make no mistake, even after over two decades of marriage and three kids, the love is still very much there. (After all, Olivia was originally part of the lower-upper class and willingly married "under her station", because she fell so deeply in love with Tom.)

[softquietsteadylove]

During the show the tightrope breaks and Thena falls. Luckily Gil catches her but gets injured. The whole crew protects both of them when kro is very angry that Gil touches Thena. Some drama for the circus one

"Thena!"

It felt as if it happened in slow motion. Thena was in the middle of the routine as usual, and things were going well. She and Angus were both strong and ready for the show.

But something wasn't right. Gil had watched as Thena froze on the tightrope, her whole body locking up on the spot. He had looked to where her eyes were anchored, running out from behind the scenes. Something was wrong with the joint where the line was attached.

Then it snapped.

"Thena!" He ran as fast as he could. There were no nets, as per a certain ringleader's demand (because it didn't instill the right excitement in the crowds). There was no protecting Thena from a bone shattering fall.

He plowed into her, just barely managing to catch her as they both rolled and skidded from his momentum. He somehow managed to keep a hold of her within his arms. His shoulder was most certainly jostled from where it was supposed to be, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a number of bruises along his ribs and arms.

The crowd was up on its feet, women and children screaming. Kro was already trying to assure them and tell them there was no need to panic (no need to ask for their money back).

"Gil?"

He opened his eyes, scared to look at what happened. But he grunted as Thena leaned over him, her hair pooling on his chest as he lay on his back. Her hand trailed over his cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Oh Gil," she whispered, her hand sliding down his cheek and neck and over his chest.

Gil looked around them. It was chaos, and this was definitely a worst case scenario. At least Thena wasn't hurt, but the repercussions would ripple through the whole crew. They had to check the equipment, they would have a meeting with everyone from every department. And Kro would be furious.

"Hey!"

Gil saw from somewhat upside down as Kro caught sight of them. He didn't know why the guy was anywhere but by his wife's side, but he was too tired to think about that now. He watched as Kro began the process of storming over to them.

"Get your filthy hands off of her!"

Oh, he was talking to him. Gil blinked, feeling as if he were hearing everything underwater, and his head hurt something fierce. But Thena was unharmed, that was all that mattered to him.

"Gil," Thena whispered to him. There was a flurry of motion around them, the crew rushing to talk to Kro about what to do about the broken highwire. They would serve as a barricade for them. "Can you see me?"

He could only ever see her. He nodded, groaning as he tried to sit up.

"It's okay, easy," she cooed to him as she helped pull him up. "We're going to get you some help."

Gil tried to hold himself up, but damn it felt hard. He didn't think he was really this heavy, but he couldn't keep his feet straight. He was like a newborn colt trying to walk for the first time.

"Come on, big fella," some of his friends from the crew got on either side of him. Of course Thena couldn't be the one to help try to walk him to the medical tent. But she smelled nicer than these guys.

"Gil," she called to him again, dragging his eyes up to hers. "Just look at me. You can't fall asleep."

Why not? He was dead tired and he felt like he'd been wrestling with the elephants.

"Just keep looking at me," she whispered, leading him with the sweet lyricism of her voice. Like a damn angel, that woman.

Gil sighed as they finally got him to the medical tent and seated on a bale of hay. He really was ready to lie down, but he let Thena drag his head upright again. Although he did whine a little as she shined some kinda light in his eyes.

"You can't sleep like this," she sighed, and then put something cold on the top of his head. His eyes naturally rolled upward, not that he could see whatever it was. She smiled, "it's just from the icebox. We have to keep the swelling down."

Oh, it was his head. That made sense why his ears were ringing, at least. "Are you okay?"

Thena looked at him in a way that made his heart melt. She sat beside him, even letting her knees in her sparkly stockings brush against his in his regular, ratty old trousers. "Thanks to you."

Gil looked at her, now that the chaos from the main tent was behind them. She did look fine, which was a relief. "Couldn't just let you fall."

It was almost not within his control, that was to say. But Thena took his hand in hers. "I know you couldn't. But I owe my life to you, all the same."

His mind was a few steps behind his mouth as he blurted out, "where's your husband?"

Normally he wouldn't bring him up, even just so as to not upset the lady.

But Thena didn't even blink, rubbing her thumb against his, "don't worry about him, for now."

"I wish you didn't have to worry about him," Gil mumbled out. He really was saying whatever was on his mind, huh?

Thena sighed, though, looking at him with those stunning green eyes. "I know. I wish so, too."

Gil closed his eyes as she adjusted the cloth bundle of ice on top of his head. It did feel nice, but it also gave him the chills. "He's gonna blow his top if we can't get the highwire restrung."

"That man would blow his top at the sky if it were the only thing around."

Gil chuckled, although it made his head hurt something awful. He groaned.

"Sorry." Thena brushed the backs of her knuckles over his temple, soothing the ache from the outside in.

Gil looked at the cloth walls of the tent. It was just some canvas, and it was far from impenetrable. But he looked at Thena, feeling like he really did have this moment to keep just to themselves. "Thena...if he ever hurts you, I swear-"

His eyes slid closed as she leaned forward to kiss him. Her lips were as soft as the light of first dawn. If he never believed in heaven before, maybe he did now.

Thena leaned back, her thumbs on his cheeks, "don't worry about me, Gil."

But he did. Every second of every day, he thought of her.

He was painfully in love with someone else's wife. "But-"

She kissed him again, more softly, and more chastely too, leaning back even quicker. "No buts, just try to rest. I can handle Kro."

Gil tried to protest again but Thena stood, leaving him alone on his little hay bale island. He blinked as she exited the tent, the warm glow inside contrasting the cold, blue light outside.

"Is he in there?"

"He's resting. Leave him be, Kro."

"Like hell I will. Bastard thinks he can put his hands on my wife?!"

Gil tried to get to his feet, stumbling to his knees at first. He tried again as the crack of a palm against a cheek sliced through the air. "Th-Thena?"

"He saved my life! More than you've ever done, and if I see you bothering him, I'll give the crowd something that will really scare them away and right out of your greedy hands."

He had never heard Thena raise her voice. He had seen her stand her ground with Kro, and he had no doubt she was as tough as a lady got, even with that brute of a husband. Maybe because of that brute of a husband.

"Ungrateful little whore."

"Call me whatever you want. Gilgamesh is not to leave his own sleeper car until he's healed."

She only ever called him Gil when they were alone.

"Fine, but the show goes on, even if the vet starts bleeding from the eyes."

Gil tried to stand again. He had to say that he would be fine. He couldn't let Thena be left alone with that devil. He groaned, managing to stand and take a few steps.

He only made it out of the tent in time to see Kro all but dragging Thena away, probably to berate her for talking back to him in front of the crew like that. But she turned and waved to him, assuring him of her well being.

Gil stood there, watching the woman he loved get dragged away by her husband. He couldn't make out any of the words his fellow crewmen and friends were chattering at him. All he was thinking about was how Thena had kissed him, and in such a way that could only mean that she loved him too.

[drysauce]

Begging on my knees, may I ask for mr welt lore 🙏 thank you for feeding my silly little fictional crushes lol

there's so much to say where should i even start jshxhhd

(btw, it's obvious but. there will be honkai impact 3rd spoilers below)

so you know that welt is a playable character in star rail right, but i don't know if you know that many of star rail characters are alternate versions of characters from other hoyo game which is hi3 - like himeko, bronya and luocha for example. welt however, isn't like them, he's not just another welt existing in the star rail universe but he's THE EXACT SAME welt that exists in honkai impact AND that's why he's such an interesting guy

so let's start with the basics - his name isn't actually Welt Yang but Joachim Nokianvirtanen. he took that name later in his life, yang was his mother's surname and welt was a name inherited from a guy named Welt Joyce.

as for why he took the name from that guy: welt joyce was a herrscher, herrscher of reason to be precise (herrschers are very powerful entities with powers given by the force known as honkai) - he used to be a normal german boy human but after the honkai eruption in Berlin that took a huge ton of lives, a core made from the souls of people who died was formed inside him giving him the powers of a herrscher of reason

while generally herrschers are enemies of humanity, he was not - after losing past memories but NOT being against humans, he was taken in by an anti-honkai organization known as Schicksal (with Otto Apocalypse as its leader and overseer) and moved from labs to labs where he eventually met Frederica Nikola Tesla and Lieserl Albert Einstein (pic below. they might look young but those are only the looks, they're actually great minds with years of experience), two scientists that later became his acquaintances. around that time he also met joachim and his father

later on, the schicksal overseer otto and joyce had kind of an argument when joyce didn't want to agree to follow the overseer path with him because he grew to love humanity and otto was a guy who didn't mind doing the most messed up things you'd think of just to reach his goal. the conflict of interests leads to a fight, that results in otto's death (or rather one of the clones, long story)

(fun fact! ^ this line is also part of welt yang's ultimate line in hsr, just differently worded)

the thing joyce is holding here is one of divine keys (very strong weapon, long story) known as the star of eden which is the signature weapon of the herrscher of reason. otto was using a divine key as well (called void archives) and before his defeat, he used the key to attack the city where they currently were with the intention to completely destroy it. joyce managed to stop that but 1. star of eden was destroyed and 2. it costed him his life. while he was dying he gave the herrscher core to young joachim who was nearby alongside with the name welt - and so joachim became the second herrscher of reason

later on with tesla and einstein he split from schicksal and formed another organization known as anti-entropy (which was also dedicated to fighting honkai but without human experiments and all that jazz) and recreated star of eden

in year 2000 took place the second honkai eruption, there's a manga telling the whole story how it went, but to keep it short, schicksal and anti-entropy allied and were fighting sirin, the herrscher of the void. the two herrschers faced each other in a fight, welt using his herrscher of reason powers created a whole army or mechs and artillery showing sirin that the humanity can and will fight against her and honkai

there was no victor, sirin was knocked down and when welt was about to finish her off with the star of eden, otto apocalypse intervened, destroyed the divine key and stopped welt (he really couldn't allow things to go the way everyone wanted even once)

later the fight was moved to the moon where sirin made her base and from where kept on challenging humanity. schicksal and anti-entropy had the talk™️ which resulted in the decision that welt will go fight on the moon but he'll take one of otto's agents to collect rock samples that could be used to create new kind of weapons

to go and fight there, anti-entropy started creating a giant mech - arahato (two quick fun facts! 1. in hsr welt has arahato on his phone case 2. to earn money anti-entropy launched an anime series about it at some point lol)

on the moon welt creates yet another star of eden and occupies sirin's attention, while siegfried (the man from schicksal that was sent on the mission and who also was hi3 mc's father) who was piloting arahato could take moon rock samples for the scientists. however for siegfried to leave safely, welt had to directly face sirin and was eventually defeated (star of eden destroyed again), near the end he was planning to detonate his core to destroy both himself and sirin, but she manage to steal it before that happened, leaving welt's body to disintegrate

obviously he didn't actually die, he put his personality inside the core at the very last moment with the souls that already were there. he survives there this way until the end of the whole eruption, and after it ended, the retrieved core fragments returned to anti-entropy and after next 10 years core repairs itself and welt gets back the physical body. that costs him a lot of energy and power though, he isn't able to be the leader anymore. anti-entropy was taken over by force in that time by cocolia, who was running and orphanage and. who also made a few clones of welt joyce

-> next events are described in the manga called alien space, it's about both the events of when welt came back to life and is a direct prequel to hsr telling what happened years later, i won't describe it in detail because maybe you'd like to read it yourself - but if not i'll gladly talk about that too in another ask or message<3 it's mainly about welt and (hi3) himeko (and void archives too, who after otto apocalypse's death took a body of one of his clones)

next should be the events in the sea of quanta (empty space among bubbles with different universes, long story) - during the expedition, he gets separated from einstein and gets stuck there until a girl named Bronya Zaychik enters it to find her beloved Seele who was also stuck there for a few years (long story, another manga). a lot of things happened, bronya encountered welt who took kind of a position of the guardian of the sea and began testing the girl in various scenarios. after she passed all the tests he decided to make her the successor of his herrscher core, thanks to which bronya was later able to rescue seele and all three of them escaped from the sea of quanta. soon after that he became her mentor in mastering the herrscher of reason powers (there's more to bronya as the herrscher which also has relations to welt but. i haven't got there yet in the main story so i have to stop here lol)

next there's a timeskip to a post honkai odyssey - it's a spin off/time skip story from hi3, featuring, aside from the main cast, welt, his son - joffrey (one of joyce's clones that he and most likely tesla (there's a line that might suggest she became his partner later on) together adopted), and void archives. i saw leaks that parts of it that are relevant to hsr might appear in an upcoming hangout mission for luocha (the guy who's a hsr version of otto) so if you're planning to play hsr you'll see it yourself and i won't be spoiling you the fun here<3

^ it's also related to the timeskip events from the alien space manga

afterwards welt ends up in the hsr universe and is trailblazing together with the astral express crew and finally becomes a playable character

^ another fun fact! in his splash are you can see void archives in the back, welt joyce on the right and tesla with einstein on the left

ok and that should be all i think? if you have any thoughs or questions feel free to ask here in the comments or in a separate ask or on discord however you prefer and i'll gladly elaborate even more

also special mention to unfortunately not canon part of the welt lore from the hoyofest videos in which he and two other powerful leaders became idols because they were broke and needed money:

[crossbackpoke-check]

re your notes on the mack post: oh. my. gosh and also 100% AGREED 😵‍💫

(he and will are both ******* those old men lbr)

- @bondedpairs

sometimes i have brief moments of introspection in which i wonder whether or not there are things better left in my drafts and usually i say fuck it we ball and then we DO ball and i love y’all for that. would you still love me if i whip out my footnotes and references

FOOTNOTES:

*somewhere in there is an aside about mack having to think about joe stroking somebody ELSE’s dick on the bench and having a panic about it.

**i DO see the will smith mackelini celebrini ?!;&/‘os everyone has been posting. that is the devil talking as in i cannot become invested or else it will ruin me. f1vegas you are NOT forgiven for putting ‘the tk/pat parking garage vibes of it’ in front of my eyes like my! god! i do NOT WANT TO KNOW THE NARRATIVE (too compelling i think. too much to get into with the bc(?)/bu rivalry and zeev buium was there and there’s another shark too somewhere??. i can’t care about a fish a MACKEREL you guys and will smith is not allowed to be my sharks bicycle because the team whoré borde already exists!!) where i was trying to go is sometimes you both fuck the same old man and he’s like. losers. get a polycule. and they end up together (obviously to me jumbo is in an ???? with patty and burnsie)

ABBV. REFERENCES:

ro’s other post where mack says to “ask smitty about [hunting cougars]” (src: holyjost)

ko’s transcript of fun facts from the interview that made me too endeared. girl nobody made you take advertising courses?? change your major

aforementioned f1vegas post. this is by tags alone because after reading that i was not capable of watching the video

[ereborne]

please please please, did the space-monk keep his armies up his sleevies??

Of course he did! 

This is an exceptionally silly title, but in my defense, it’s a nonsense file full of contradictory timeline schenanigans and snippets of a fic I am not writing.  The same fic I’m very very absolutely not writing that I mentioned in the seven-sentence post last Sunday, actually!  It has been plaguing me. 

The thing is, is that I am so sure there ought to be a way to make it work.  I haven’t found it so far, so far I have only found many ways not to make the metaphorical lightbulb, but I feel so strongly that it should work.  I will make it work eventually, and then I will be free. 

The ‘it’ (army up our sleevey) in question:  the Mandalorian Empire!  I am so sure that there should be a way to rewrite these wholeass war stars so that the Mandalorian Excision is a turning point in the history of the Jedi Order, but in the opposite direction from canon.  Have it be the first time the Jedi were commanded to go commit large-scale violence against a sovereign system just because the Republic said to, and so the first time the Jedi found themselves truly pushed to a point where they cannot do as ordered without wholly breaking the tenets of their Order but cannot disobey and keep themselves safe and in a position to fulfil the objectives of their Order—and have them turn to the Force for a third option. 

It's a pretty radical third option, because I want to play with the timeline and also because the one scene makes me so so so happy, but—instead of killing off the Mandalorians, they meet with them, make a deal with them, pack them up on ships, and slide them into a pocket in the Unifying Force to be retrieved (much) later, when it’s safe.  Fast forward all the way to AotC, once the Jedi have discovered the clone army prepped for them on Kamino and received that implicit authorization to hire what amounts to a mercenary army, they can do a fine magician’s flourish and pull the better part of the Mandalorian Empire out of their sleeves!  What a scene that would be, I want it so badly. 

And all the fun of the set-up, too!  Imagine it, right, the Jedi have elevated ‘from a certain point of view’ to a zen art and have a now long-running history of taking creative options to do the most good possible regardless of Republic guidelines, but keeping it all on the down-low has given the Jedi chronically poor PR (essentially the same as they have in canon) and the truth of many things has passed out of memory and into the keeping of the Force.  Then the tragedy at Galidraan happens, Dooku’s faith wavers, and the Force returns one secret to them—Dooku’s good friend Sifo-Dyas gets him together with Master Archivist Jocasta Nu and the three of them learn about the pocket Mandos waiting to be pulled, the absolute proof of how far the Jedi will go (and how much the Force will support them) in order to preserve life.  And then immediately after that revelation is when Sidious comes to whisper in Dooku’s ear, all his manipulations, how the Republic is corrupt and the Jedi are useless and if Dooku wants power enough to make a difference he’ll need to do something radical—and Dooku is playing him the entire time. 

And thematically, it could be so good!  Revisiting the original Star Wars question of are the Jedi knights following lords or monks serving a higher purpose!  The distinction between lying to gain the freedom to do good (Jedi mind-trick) and manipulations to gain power to do evil (Sith compulsion)!  Once-and-future Mandos who are both the kings waiting to return to their people and the sword waiting to be drawn!  The Clone Wars are still fought, kind of!  An Empire still rises, kind of!  The clones who were chattel, produced and sold by a failed Mand’alor, denied any culture or history, destined to fight and die unacknowledged in someone else’s war; now being adopted wholesale by the returned Mandalorian people, hailed as a gift from the Force itself, sharing their knowledge of modern times and being taught all the cultural traditions of Mandalore’s heyday, being treated as beloved children and kept as safe as any Mando’ad could be!  Anakin, fatherless child of the Force, as the prophesied Chosen One, found by the will of the Living Force, trained by a sleight-of-hand master with a powerful connection to the Unifying Force, strong enough to bring balance to the Force not through massacre but instead by bringing back an entire people!  Renewal, healing, proof that good will always ultimately triumph over evil but that you have to get it there through a balanced combination of faith and hard work! So fun!!!!

Exactly how and when all this happens and what the hell all the fallout is, though, all that stuff still escapes me.  This file is an absolute nightmare bog of snippets and bullet-point ranting. 

[mirabellemoira]

would you ever write a follow up to the sharing series that elaborates on the light dom and bottom tags? I really love the way you write their relationship and would love to see how you explore that, but I’m not trying to be pushy haha I was just curious. it’s so fine if the answer is no

I don’t plan on writing any real in depth scenes on it (I’m not built for writing smut personally 😂😭) but I definitely have plans to explore it more in the sharing series. Specifically in the one that’s going to take place right after Rhaenyra gets back from her little Catholicism field trip (that may…perhaps….be called Sharing Control)

I’ve also been thinking a lot about including it in an upcoming longfic 👀 but I’m trying to make sure it really fits that fic’s Jace you know?

Thank you so much for sending this in!!!! I could talk about married wartime Jacaela all day 😭😂

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 218

Adjective: Sweet

Noun: Haunt

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Sweet: having the pleasant taste characteristic of sugar or honey, or not salty, sour, or bitter; (of air, water, or food) fresh, pure, and untainted; smelling pleasant like flowers or perfume, or fragrant; pleasing in general, or delightful; highly satisfying or gratifying; (informal) used to express approval or admiration, or excellent; working, moving, or done smoothly or easily; (US) denoting music, especially jazz, played at a steady tempo without improvisation; (of a person or action) pleasant and kind or thoughtful; (especially of a person or animal) charming and endearing; (dated) (informal) infatuated or in love with; dear, or beloved; (archaic) used as a respectful form of address; used for emphasis in various phrases and exclamations; used to emphasize the unpredictable individuality of someone's actions

Haunt: a place frequented by a specified person or group of people; a ghost; a place or event involving a ghost or spirit haunting a person, location, or object

[faebriel]

abt that spider-niki au…. you should make her canon event smth rainduo angsty

thank you, anon, for being an incredible enabler.

i was thinking about c!rainduo in a spiderniki au earlier (especially re: the concept of wil trying for villainy and being unable to commit himself to it, and niki putting herself in the role of a hero and being unable to hack it) and playing with the idea that like, yes. wilbur dies, he disappears. niki can't save him - not as niki, and not as spiderwoman either. it's gutting. before that, niki has always been able to bounce back - or, failing that, crawl back up. wilbur is the first person close to niki that she loses, and it is terrible to bear.

except wilbur's not dead.

playing on the whole villain angle (i don't know enough about spiderman specifically to draw specific comparisons, sorry....if anyone has suggestions pls chime in) - look, self-destruction isn't unlike wilbur. i've yet to land on whether i think wilbur would pull some fake death thing to advance his own interests (some villainy underworld shit he's gotten caught up in??) or because something's gone wrong in his life and he feels the need to torch the pyre. when they go high, you go low, etc. i think it's fun to play with wilbur's ambitious streak in that kind of setting - maybe it's frustration with his station in the 'civilian world', so he tries to rise through the underworld instead. and then he gets a little too caught up in his own head about villainy, and good guys and bad guys, and if you're going to go low, you might as well scrape the bottom of the barrel, right?

imagining he doesn't know about niki's alter ego, ofc.

so to niki, wilbur dies - he's gone - and okay, we're allowed to be cliche it's a superhero au okay, he probably died in proximity to spiderwoman. she's supposed to be the protector of the people but she can't even save her best friend. how useless is she? why does she bother?

and then it turns out the bastard isn't even dead.

nah, he just left. and he left for some stupid fucking reasons, too - both incredibly selfish and incredibly dangerous, and niki can't fucking stand that it was so easy for him to leave, to forget, to not give a fuck at all, did he ever give a fuck to begin with? doesn't look like it. he left all of them grieving to go ??? make himself into a villain ??? are you kidding me ???????

so anyway we enter Spiderniki Phase 3: new villains roster, spiderniki seems to only put on the suit to take her all-consuming rage out on the closest thing she has to acceptable targets, and wilbur doesn't know why their friendly neighbourhood spiderwoman seems intent on snapping his neck.