#Vila laughs when asked about it

[the-blossica-fan]

It was bothering me in the back of my head that question was. Sorry about that 😭

But to answer who would ask:

Windsong? XD

In her defence it's for actual research purposes. Although she DOES get a (lot of) raised eyebrow(s from Arcanists) regardless 😭

No worries, that question was definitely something unusual, keep that up.

They're... Funny and confusing, both at the same time. I enjoy them.

...Well I can actually see Windsong asking that ngl, it's some sort of itch in the back of her mind that's like "but wait, how does this happen?" and her close friends have to sit through her rambles.

"Okay, so, listen. I have a theory that Vila's nail polish disappears once her legs turn into a tail, so, what do you think about this?"

"...You said this is for research purposes, right?"

"Indeed. I'm quite interested in Vila's kind. Perhaps it would be a good way to get to know her better since she's not as open with her past before Rayashki, so-"

"Mhm... Uh, are you sure this is an important question to ask Vila?"

"Absolutely."

"...Sigh. Try to ask differently"

Even then, she still does get a lot, and I mean a lot, of raised eyebrows. Girl I know you're doing research but some things are not worth asking...

Let's say this is like Jessica's leash situation, you say something out of context and you get the side eye. Sorry Windsong, you should ask that sort of question to those who don't think twice before answering.

[seat-safety-switch]

When we were kids, we didn't have access to cool power tools. Every summer, when the soapbox derby race was coming, we'd break into my neighbour's garage while he was at work. Then, we'd use his drill press, lathe, table saw, all the fun tools. Over the course of a week, a race car was produced, which is more than the workshop ever made during the rest of the year.

Sure, we could have asked him if we could have borrowed his tools, but no doubt he would want to be there to supervise. And then he'd want to help. We'd never get done while we were busy indulging the suburb-tinged fantasies of someone who didn't take wood shop and chose instead to idly worship at the altar of Television Presents: The Fantasy of Bob Vila in adulthood.

One year, Old Man Garrett got a security system. Probably this was because Ted (fucking Ted) didn't clean up the sawdust that one time like we asked him to. The old man must have seen the footprint, and realized that he did not wear size-seven Nikes. Child thieves, casing his precious table saw! Now, our humble breaking-and-entering had become significantly more difficult than "reach a coat hanger under the door and pull the emergency release."

With the help of some of the high-school kids who were taking electronics class, we managed to defeat the security system. We did so using an ancient Japanese technique known as "distract Old Man Garrett while he's setting it, and then cut the wires to the panel." I think it loses something in translation, but you get the gist of it. That year's car was especially sweet.

In adulthood, I got drunk and bragged to some work buddies about our little scam. They responded in abject horror, because I was still occupying the weird hump in the middle of a normal distribution of "acceptable crimes." It was terrifying to them to see one of their own, one of the suburbanites, speak openly about largely-harmless property crimes. What if we had been hurt, they shrieked. Around the water cooler, I would become a pariah, unless I could make amends.

I did hunt down Old Man Garrett after that, still feeling the sting of rejection. He was still on the property, and he still had a beautiful collection of immaculate cabinet-making tools in the garage. I rang his doorbell and, when he answered, I told him the whole story. He laughed.

"I knew it was you dumb shits from the beginning," he bragged. "Fucking Ted -"

"Fucking Ted," I echoed, unconsciously.

"Fucking Ted left his library book on building race cars behind on the workbench that first year. You didn't let him drive, did you?"

I shook my head. "We ran the car into him if the hockey-stick brakes ever failed."

We had a good laugh about the whole thing that evening, and I returned to work with my soul cleansed. It's just a pity Ted didn't know how bad he actually was at crime, before he tried to knock over that liquor store and all.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 10

Hello Dear Readers! Here comes the new chapter, it's 6239 words, so be prepared.

What do you think about a game? It's almost Threshing. If you can guess (correctly or close to that) what kind of dragon and/or what kind of signet Aelin will have, then I'll answer one question in private about the story. Even if it'll be a spoiler. Good luck!

Don’t underestimate the challenge of the Gauntlet, Mira. It’s designed to test your balance, strength, and agility. The times don’t matter for shit, only that you make it to the top. Reach for the ropes when you have to. Coming in last is better than coming in dead.

—Page forty-six, the Book of Brennan

I look up, and up, and up, and I can only blink.

“Well, that’s…” Ethan swallows, his head tilted just as far back as mine as we stare at the menacing obstacle course that’s carved into the front of a ridgeline so steep, it might as well be a cliff. The zigzagging death trap of a trail rises above us, climbing in five distinct switchbacks of 180-degree turns, each increasing in difficulty on the way to the top of the bluff that divides the citadel from the flight field and the Vale.

“Amazing.” Liam grins.

Ethan and I turn, both staring at him like he must have hit his head.

“You think that hellscape looks amazing?” Ethan asks.

„I mean look at that. I heard a lot of stories about this, but it’s so much more complex. It will be a real challenge.” Liam grins, his blue eyes dancing in the morning sun as he rubs his hands together, shifting from one toned leg to the other in glee.

“Challenge? Yeah, sure we can go with that.” I laugh at him. “At the gym in the challenges you don’t have a real opponent, it was way too easy for you.”

“You’re one to talk.” Ethan stares at me. “You’ve never lost either.”

“Well…yeah” I scratch my head.

„Still not sure why they call it the Gauntlet,” another squadmate - whose name I don’t remember - says from my right, blowing into his cupped hands to ward off the morning chill. The sun hasn’t touched this little crevice, but it’s shining above the last quarter of the course.

“To ensure dragons keep coming to Threshing by weeding out the weaklings.” An obnoxious girl says, maybe her name is Vila? At some point I should start memorizing their names. But they are fucking annoying.

I shoot her a glare and then shake it off.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the first-year snaps, earning the entire squad’s attention.

My eyebrows lift. They’re really annoying.

“We have such a lovely and cohesive squad.” I murmur to Liam. “What is his name anyway?”

“Do you really not know their names?” He laughs at me. “We’ve been squadmates for a while.”

“I know your name, Ethan’s and Vila’s too. Oh and there’s Theo and Zanaya.” I list.

“That’s all?” He grins “You know my name because we’re friends. Ethan is my friend and he hangs out with us during classes, so that doesn’t count.” He counts the names on his fingers. “And the only reason you know Vila’s name is because she annoys you. Theo and Zanaya don’t count either. They’re the squadleader and his executive.”

“Fine. I admit it. I don’t know their names. “I give in. “They die like flies. We’re the smallest squad.”

“Then why do you think it’s called the gauntlet?” I hear shouting behind me.

God. They’re still arguing.

„It’s called the Gauntlet because this is the cliff that guards the Vale,” Professor Emetterio says, walking up behind our squad, his shaved head glinting in the growing sunlight. “Plus, actual gauntlets—armored gloves made of metal—are slippery as hell, and the name stuck about twenty years ago.” He cocks a brow at Vila and the man next to her. “Are you two done arguing? Because all six of you have exactly an hour to get to the top before it’s another squad’s chance to practice, and from what I’ve seen of your agility on the mat, you’re going to need every second.”

There’s a grumble of assent in our little group.

“As you know, hand-to-hand challenges are on hold for the next two and a half weeks before Presentation so you can focus here.” Professor Emetterio flips a page on the little notebook he carries. “Liam, you’re going to show them how it’s done, since you’re the best of the squad. Then Aelin, Jake, Ethan, Rio and Vila.” He finishes calling out every name in our squad, and we file into order. “You’re the smallest squad so far. You need to work hard to remain intact. If you’ll lose two or three more cadets then you’ll be dissolved and you’ll be assigned to another squad. Wait here for a second.” He walks past us, waving at someone high up on the cliff. No doubt that someone has a watch.

We wait silently, thinking about what he said. I don’t want to be assigned to another squad. I like it that Liam is my squadmate, and I’m starting to like Ethan too. There’s no guarantee all three of us will be in the same squad.

„Here we go!” Professor Emetterio walks to the head of our line. “You’ll get your time at the top of the course, if you make it, but remember, you’ll still have nine practice sessions before we rank you for Presentation in two and a half weeks, which will determine if the dragons find you worthy at Threshing.”

„Wouldn’t it make more sense to let first-years start practicing this thing right after Parapet?” Ethan asks. “You know, to give us a little more time so we don’t die?”

“No,” Professor Emetterio replies. “The timing is part of the challenge. And some words of wisdom, before you start.”

“There are ropes every six feet that run from the top of the sheer cliffside to the bottom,” he says. “So if you start to fall, reach out and grab a rope. It’ll cost you thirty seconds, but death costs you more.”

Awesome.

“I mean, there’s a perfectly good set of steps over there.” Vila points to the steep staircase carved into the cliff beside the wide switchbacks of the Gauntlet.

“Stairs are for reaching the flight field on the top of the ridgeline after Presentation,” Professor Emetterio says, then lifts his hands toward the course and flicks his wrist, pointing at various obstacles.

The fifteen-foot log at the start of the uphill climb begins to spin. The pillars on the third ascent shake. The giant wheel at the first switchback starts its counterclockwise rotation, and those little posts there? They all twist in opposite directions.

“Every one of the five ascents on this course is designed to mimic the challenges you’ll face in battle.” Professor Emetterio turns to look at us, his face just as stern as it is during our usual combat training. “From the balance you must keep on the back of your dragon, to the strength you’ll need to hold your seat during maneuvers, to”—he gestures upward, toward the last obstacle that looks like a ninety-degree ramp from this angle—“the stamina you’ll need to fight on the ground, then still be able to mount your dragon at a second’s notice.”

The posts knock a chunk of granite loose, and the rock tumbles down the course, smacking every obstacle in its path until it crashes twenty feet in front of us.

“Whoa,” Rio whispers, his brown eyes wide as he stares at the pulverized rock.

„What if we can’t make it up?” Vila asks from my right, securing her long hair in a loose braid, her usual haughtiness not so in-your-face today. “What’s the alternative route?”

“There’s no alternative. If you don’t make it, you can’t get to Presentation, can you? Take your position, Liam,” Professor Emetterio orders, and Liam moves to the beginning of the course. “After he makes it past the final obstacle, so everyone can learn from this cadet completing the course, the rest of you will start every sixty seconds. And…go!”

Liam is off like a shot. He easily runs the fifteen feet across the single log spinning parallel with the cliff face and then the raised pillars, but it takes him two rotations inside the wheel before he jumps through the lone opening, but other than that, I don’t see a single misstep in the first ascent. Not. One.

He turns and rushes toward a series of giant hanging balls that make up the second ascent, jumping and hugging one after another. His feet back on the ground, he turns again and heads up the third ascent, which is divided into two sections. The first part has giant metal rods hanging parallel to the cliff wall, and he easily swings arm over arm, using his body’s weight and momentum to swing the bar forward and reach the next bar hanging half a foot higher than the previous as he climbs the side of the cliff. From the last bar, he jumps onto a series of shaking pillars that make up the second half of this ascent before finally leaping back onto the gravel path.

By the time he reaches the fourth ascent, the spinning logs, Liam’s made it all look like child’s play, and I start to feel a bubble of hope that maybe the course isn’t as difficult as it looks from the ground.

But then he faces a giant chimney formation rising high above him at a twenty-degree angle and pauses.

“You got this!” I yell to encourage him.

As though he heard, he sprints toward the leaning chimney and flings himself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with his body, then starts hopping up the conduit until he reaches the end and drops down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

My breath catches in my throat as Liam sprints toward the ramp, using his speed and momentum to carry him two-thirds of the way up the ramp. Just before he starts to fall, he reaches up with one arm and grasps the lip of the ramp and hauls himself over the edge.

Ethan and I cheer for him. He made it. In an almost flawless approach.

“Perfect technique!” Professor Emetterio calls out. “That’s exactly what you should all be doing.”

„Aelin, begin!” Emetterio orders.

Be with me, Zihnal. I haven’t spent nearly enough time at temple for the god of luck to care much about what happens to me right now, but it’s worth a shot.

I bolt up the first part of the ascent, coming to the spinning log within seconds. My stomach feels like it’s being stirred by this balance beam from hell. “It’s just balance. You can balance,” I mumble and start across, jumping off the end to land on the first of four granite columns, each one higher than the last.

There are about three feet between them, but I manage to leap from one pillar to the next without skidding off the ends. And this is the easy part.

I jump into the rotating wheel and run, leaping over the only opening as it flies by once, then watching it come around. Timing. This one is all about timing.

The opportunity comes and I seize it, racing through the opening and turning back onto the gravel path of the second ascent. The buoy balls are just ahead.

I start to hum to calm myself. The music always helps me.

I spring from the edge of the path onto the first ball, grasping it up top. The immediate strain on my shoulders makes me tense but it’s bearable. Not bad.

Throwing my weight, I force the ball to rotate, swinging me toward the next one.

I repeat the motion, grasping from one ball to the next, keeping my eyes on the chains and nothing else.

I still hum as I reach the fifth and final ball. With one last swing, I throw myself sideways, releasing the ball and landing on the shoulder-wide gravel path and I almost hit the wall with my head.

It’s all momentum for the next ascent.

I line my body up with the first metal rod and get ready to sprint forward.

There are three iron rails in front of me, each lined up like a battering ram toward the next.  I then launch myself towards the first. At least the texture gives me something to keep hold of as I work my way hand over hand.

The first clang of iron as the rails meet makes my fingers slip, and I gasp.

I throw myself to the next and move across the rail with the same hand-over-hand motion.

My right hand loses purchase and my weight swings me into face-first of the steep mountainside, my cheek slamming into the rock. A high-pitched ringing erupts in my ears and my vision darkens at the edges.

“Aelin!” Liam shouts from the top.

My other hand is still holding the rail. I can do it.

I’ve survived seven weeks in this damned quadrant, and this course isn’t going to beat me today.

I immediately start the hand over hand to get me to the next one, until I finally let go, landing on the first shaking iron pillar. My brain is rattled as the thing shudders violently, and I leap to the next, barely gaining a foothold before jumping to the gravel path at the end of the ascent.

I reach the twisting staircase posts jutting straight from the side of the cliff face.

Each three-foot-wide timber rotates from its base in one of the steepest sections of the course. I quickly calculate. I need to do it with one go. If I stop they will probably roll me off.

I bounce on my feet, dredging up whatever courage I have left. Then I run. My feet are quick, making contact with each post only long enough to push off for the next, and within a few heartbeats, I’m on the other side.

I hear someone cry out and my head snaps toward the voice, just in time to see Jake wobble and slip on the rails. The air freezes.

“Jake!” I hear Vila screaming.

Our eyes meet, shock and terror filling his wide black eyes as he falls. Halfway down the cliff.

Shit.

“Aelin! Come on, you’re almost up here.” Liam shouts at the top.

I look at him and nod. Yes, I can do it.

I face a giant chimney formation rising high above me at a twenty-degree angle and pause.

God, it’s really high. But if Liam could do it, then so do I.

I sprint toward the leaning chimney and flings myself upward, grabbing onto the sides by forming an X with my body.

Okay, now I need to climb.

I start hopping up the conduit slowly, maybe a little too slowly, until I reach the end and drop down in front of the final obstacle, a massive ramp that reaches up to the top of the cliff’s edge at a nearly vertical climb.

Fuck. It seems the most difficult obstacle of all of them.

But I can’t give up now. It’s the last one. I can do it, I just need to be fast.

I sprint toward the ramp, using my speed and momentum to carry me almost all the way up the ramp.

Just before I start to fall, I reach up and I can grab onto the lip of the ramp with one arm.

My god. I did it.

I reach up with my other arm and haul myself over the edge.

As soon as I stand up, Liam is there and sweeps me into his arms.

“You were great Aelin!” He laughs. “You did it!”

I still can’t believe that it’s over. I hug him back and start laughing too.

“Yeah. It seems I did it.”

“How’s your face?” He pulls back and look at the side of my face. “You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s not that bad actually. I mean, later it’ll hurt probably.”

“Then we will get some ointment later.”

I nod and then we watch the others.

Ethan has made up his way to us. He was the slowest of us who made it to the top, but it doesn’t matter to me. He did it, and we survived.

Rio made it too. He did a great job and since then he bahaves as if he was already chosen by a dragon. And naturally Vila argues with him about this too.

Vila had to use the ropes at the shaking pillars. She almost fell down like Jack.

Shit. We lost Jack.

There are only 5 of us first-years left.

***

The sun burns my eyes as we stand in morning formation.

“Calvin Atwater,” Captain Fitzgibbons reads, his voice solemn like always.

First Squad, Claw Section, Fourth Wing. He sits two rows behind me in Battle Brief. He sat.

There’s nothing special about this morning. Our first trial on the Gauntlet has made the roll longer, but it’s just another list on just another day…except it’s not. It’s not like the first day anymore. I know more than half of the names as they’re called. “Newland Jahvon,” he continues.

Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

We have to be in the twenties by now. How can this be all there is? We say their names once and then go on as if they never existed?

„Aurelie Donans.”

Shit. She was Vi’s squadmate. She told me what happened yesterday. Watching one of your friends falls to death? It’s cruel.

I look at Violet and see that she ripped open one of the scabs along her cheek. A trickle of blood follows as the next name is called.

***

“You’re sure about this?” Dain asks Violet the next night - as I approach them - two worried lines between his brows as he clasps Violet’s shoulders.

“If her parents aren’t coming to bury her body, then I should be the one to handle her things. I’m the last person she saw,” She explains, rolling her shoulders to adjust the weight of Aurelie’s pack.

Every Basgiath parent has the same option when their cadet is killed. They can retrieve the body and personal effects for burial or burning or the school will put their body under a stone and burn their effects themselves. Aurelie’s parents have chosen door number two.

“And you don’t want me to go with you?” he asks, palming her neck.

She shakes her head. “I know where the burn pit is.”

“Besides I will be there for her.” I say and stand next to Violet. “Now hands off. We have more important things to do, than listening to you.”

“Cadet Melgren, do I need to remind you that I’m a squadleader? Show some respect.” He growls at me.

“Respect must be earned. And I think it sends a completely different message that you coddle Violet, squadleader.” I raise my eyebrows.

“It’s okay, Dain. We should go.” Violet says then we start to climb the stairs of the academic tower’s turret past the Battle Brief room and up to the stone roof, going by a few other cadets on their way down.

„I never got the chance to ask you if you made it all the way up,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I got caught at the chimney formation and had to use a rope to get back down. I’m too short to span the distance, but I’m not thinking about that tonight. I’ll figure something out before the official timed Gauntlet on Presentation day.”

“I help you. We will figure something out, together. You’re not alone, Vi.” I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

The burn pit is nothing more than an extra-wide iron barrel, whose only purpose is to incinerate, and the flames burn bright against the night sky as we stumble out onto the roof.

There’s no one else up here as Violet slips the bag from her shoulder.

I stop a little further away from the pit. She wanted to do it alone, and I will respect her wish.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear her whisper, as she flings it up and over the metal edge of the bin.

The flames catch and whoosh as it becomes more fuel for the fire, just another tribute to Malek, the god of death.

Instead of walking back down the stairs, I make my way to the edge of the turret where Violet stares at the sky.

It’s a cloudy night, but I can make out the shadows of three dragons as they approach from the west and even see the ridge where the Gauntlet lays, waiting to claim its next victim.

It won’t be me.

I stand here, patiently waiting for Violet to be ready to go back, letting minutes tick by before the bells sound for curfew. We climb back down the stairs without a word.

We walk through the courtyard, empty but for a couple who can’t decide if they’d rather kiss or walk near the dais.

“I don’t want go back yet.” Vi whispers while avoiding my eyes.

“Then we won’t. Come, if I remember correctly there’s an alcove over there.” I smile at her softly. Understanding the pain, that makes her want to hide.

We’re heading for the alcove where Dain and Vi first sat after Parapet.

It’s almost been two months, and we’re still here. Still waking every morning to the sunrise. Doesn’t that mean something?

I wonder as we sit in silence, watching the stars on the sky.

The door that leads to the tunnel we took to cross the ridgeline to the Gauntlet this morning opens along the courtyard wall, just left of the academic building, and my brow furrows. Who would be returning this late?

Sitting back against the wall, I let the darkness conceal me as Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi—Xaden’s cousin—pass under a mage light, headed in my direction.

Three dragons. They were out…doing what? There were no training ops that I know of tonight, not that I’m privy to everything third-years do.

“There has to be something more we can do,” Bodhi argues, looking to Xaden, his voice low as they pass by us, their boots crunching on the gravel.

“We’re doing everything we can,” Garrick hisses.

My scalp prickles and Xaden stops mid-step ten feet away, the set of his shoulders rigid.

Shit.

He knows we’re here.

Instead of the usual fear that spikes in his presence, only anger rises in my chest. If he wants to kill me, then fine. I’m over waiting for it to happen. Over walking through the halls in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Garrick asks, immediately looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the couple who definitely decided making out is more important than getting into the dorms by curfew.

“Go on. I’ll meet you inside,” Xaden says.

„You sure?” Bodhi’s forehead puckers, and his gaze sweeps over the courtyard.

“Go,” Xaden orders, standing completely still until the other two walk into the barracks, turning left toward the stairwell that will take them to the second- and third-year floors. Only when they’re gone does he turn and face the exact spot where we’re sitting.

“I know you know we’re here.” Violet says and moves toward him. “And please don’t prattle on about commanding the dark. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

I try to suppress my laughter as I walk next to Violet, standing between her and Xaden.

“No questions about where I’ve been?” He folds his arms across his chest and studies us in the moonlight. His scar looks even more menacing in this light, but I can’t seem to find the energy to be scared.

“I honestly don’t care.” Vi shrugs and makes her way toward the dorms without another word.

“As much as I enjoy our conversations, I have to go. It’s curfew after all.” I say.

“Are you going to tell someone that we were out?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No. I don’t care what you do.” I cross my arms. “It’s probably the best if I don’t know anyway.” I mutter silently.

He cocks his head to the side. “You really don’t care, do you?”

I just shake my head.

“What are you doing out after curfew, Sunshine?”

“Counting the stars, what else?” I retort. “How about you? Feel like sharing?” I ask mockingly, knowing he’s not about to answer me.

“The same.”

Sarcastic ass.

“Look, are you planning to kill us or not? The anticipation is starting to annoy the fuck out of me.” I ask.

“Haven’t decided yet,” he answers, like I’ve just inquired about his dinner preferences, but his gaze narrows on my cheek. There’s still a bruise from yesterday’s Gauntlet practice.

“Well, could you?” I mutter. “It would definitely help me make my plans for the week.”

“Am I affecting your schedule, Sunshine?” There’s a definite smirk on those lips.

“I just need to know what my chances are that Violet and I are going to make it through alive.” My hands curl into fists.

The ass has the nerve to smile. “That’s the oddest way I’ve ever been hit on—”

“Not my chances with you, you conceited prick!” Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I move past him, but he catches my wrist, his grip light but his hold firm.

His fingertips on my pulse make it skitter.

“Chances at what?” he asks, tugging me just close enough that my shoulder brushes his biceps.

“Nothing.” He wouldn’t understand. He’s a damned wingleader, which means he’s excelled at everything in the quadrant, even somehow managing to get past his own last name.

“Chances at what?” he repeats. “Do not make me ask three times.” His ominous tone is at odds with his gentle grasp, and shit, does he have to smell so good? Like mint and leather and something I can’t quite identify, something that borders between citrus and floral.

“At living through all of this! I have to figure it out how Violet can make it up the damned Gauntlet. And there’s my own problems I have to deal with, and here you are, annoying me.” I half-heartedly tug at my wrist, but he doesn’t let go.

“I see.” He’s so infuriatingly calm, and I can’t even get a grip on one of my emotions.

„No, you don’t. You’re probably celebrating because she’ll fall to her death and you can kill me anytime, we saw that on the mat the previous time.”

“Killing you wouldn’t be any trouble, Sunshine. It’s leaving you alive that seems to cause the majority of my trouble.”

My gaze swings up to clash with his, but his face is unreadable, cloaked in shadow, go figure.

“Sorry to be a hassle.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. “You know the problem with this place?” I tug my arm back again, but he holds fast. “Besides you touching things that don’t belong to you?” My eyes narrow on him.

„I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” My stomach flutters as his thumb brushes my pulse and he releases my wrist.

I answer before I can think better of it. “Hope.”

“Hope?” He tips his head closer to mine, as if he wasn’t sure he heard me right.

“Hope.” I nod. “Someone like you would never get it, but I knew coming here was a death sentence. It didn’t matter that I’ve been trained my entire life to enter the Riders Quadrant, but it isn’t a guarantee that I will survive it; but when General Melgren gives an order, you can’t exactly ignore it.” Gods, why am I running off at the mouth to this man? What’s the worst he’ll do? Kill you?

„Sure you can.” He shrugs. “You just might not like the consequences.”

I roll my eyes, and to my utter embarrassment, instead of pulling away now that I’m free, I lean in just a little, like I can siphon off some of his strength. He certainly has enough to spare.

“I knew what the odds were, and I came anyway, concentrating on that tiny percentage of a chance that both of us would live. And then we make it almost two months and I get…” I shake my head, clenching my jaw. “Hopeful.” The word tastes sour.

“Ah. And then you lose a squadmate, and you are reminded that you can’t help Violet, and you give up. I’m starting to see. He holds my gaze locked with his. “Here’s the thing, Melgren. Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Not hope that we live? Just plan for death?”

“You’re supposed to focus on the things that can kill you so you find ways to not die.” He shakes his head. “I can barely count the number of people in this quadrant who want you dead, either as revenge against your father or because you’re just really good at pissing people off, but you’re still here, defying the odds.” Shadows wrap around me, and I swear I feel a caress along the side of my wounded cheek. “It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.”

“Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the entrance to the barracks, but he’s right behind me, close enough that the door would slam in his face if he wasn’t so unnaturally fast at catching it.

“Maybe if you stopped sulking in your self-pity, you’d see that you have everything you need.” he calls after me, his voice echoing down the hallway.

“My self-what?” I turn around, my jaw dropping.

“People die,” he says slowly, his jaw ticking before he drags in a deep breath. “It’s going to happen over and over again. It’s the nature of what happens here. What makes you a rider is what you do after people die. You want to know why you’re still alive? Because you’re the scale I currently judge myself against every night. Every day I let you live, I get to convince myself that there’s still a part of me that’s a decent person. So if you want to quit, then please, spare me the temptation and fucking quit. But if you want to do something, then do it.”

What an annoying prick.

I open my mouth to retort when I hear footsteps.

We turn around and face the man whom I know too well. He’s the aide of General Melgren.

Fuck, he must be back. I can feel my face turning as white as a ghost.

Xaden must see it too because he steps in front of me without a word. He’s trying to protect me?

“Wingleader Riorson I need a word with Cadet Melgren, leave.” The man says to Xaden without a glance at him.

“She’s in my chain of command. I don’t see why I should leave her here.” He crosses his arms. “If you have something to say then do it in front of me.”

“Fine.” The man nods and stares at me. “General Melgren wishes to see you. He returned from the front and like’d to hear your report.”

My god. I didn’t prepare a suitable story for him. I will be in big trouble, if not worse.

“I understand, I’ll be there.” I nod.

Without another word the man turns around and leaves us alone.

“What’s all this about?” Xaden looks at me with an unreadable expression.

“Nothing. You heard him. The General wants to see me. I have to go.” I say and try to walk past him to the doors but he grabs my arm.

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He leans closer. “You look as pale as a ghost.”

“It was a surprise, nothing else.” I try to lie, in hope that he lets it slide. I don’t want him to find out.

“Why don’t you call him father?” He observes me. “You always call him General. He’s your father isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. It’s just that we’re cadets and it wouldn’t be appropriate.” I yank my arm and he releases me. “Now if you excuse me, I have to go.”

I walk out the door, towards the building where the offices are located. I feel nauseous. Everystep on the stairs is harder. I’m scared.

I stop in front of his door. Breath in and out. Then I knock.

“Enter.”

I open the door and enter his office. The air is chilling because of the open window. I stand in front of his desk and wait until he’s done with writing whatever he’s writing.

“What happened since we talked last time?” He puts down his pen and looks at me with a cold gaze.

“The challanges are over for now, we started practicing on the Gauntlet.” I try to keep it short.

“How many challanges did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose a single one.” I reply in an emotionless tone. I need to lock up my feelings as usual. This is the only way to survive it. Later…later I can think about it.

“That was expected.” He nods with approval as he stands up and walks around the desk. “The Gauntlet?”

“Yesterday was our first session, I made it up on my first try.” I answer.

“And what about that Riorson kid and the other marked-ones?” He raises an eyebrow and stands in front of me.

I gulp.

“There’s nothing that’s worth mentioning.” I try and hope so hard he’d accept it.

He grabs my arm tightly and yanks me toward him.

“I will decide if it is worth it or not.” He squeezes my arm tighter. It will leave a bruise. “Do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, General.” I reply quickly.

“Good. Now tell me what you know.” He releases my arm and I try not to show that it hurt.

“They attend classes like anyone else. They don’t stand out.” I say the basic facts that anyone can know. I don’t want to betray Liam and his friends. “Most of the other cadets are avoiding them. Some of them are good at studying while others at fighting. They seem pretty normal to me.”

“Hm. And Riorson?” He asks with a calculating look.

“We don’t have much common classes. At Battle Brief he’s observant and clever. At the gym he’s strong and quick. He spends a lot of time with the leader of the Flame Section, Garrick Tavis.” I say only what’s neccesary to ease his suspicion.

“Do you ever see them in groups larger than three?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

The night at the tree. Images flashes through my mind. But… they didn’t do anything wrong.

“No. Never.” I shake my head.

“I see.” He looks at me with a gaze that makes me chill to the bones. “That’s all you could gather the past weeks? I heard you’re friends with Colonel Mairi’s son.” He spat the word friend as if it’s a disease.

“I’m close with him because of his relationship with Xaden, and he’s a first-year too.” I lie to him. I can’t bring more attention to Liam. He’s truly a good person. “He’s a pretty private person, but slowly opening up. Maybe later I can gather more information. I don’t want to look suspicious.”

“And the daggers? Did you see them with the marked-ones?”

“No, they mostly use the ones they earned at challenges.” I’m curious to why that strange dagger is important to him. “If I know what they are, maybe I could search more efficiently.”

“That’s above your paygrade, Cadet.” He says towering over me. “You’re dismissed.” He leans on his desk.

“Understood.” I say and turn toward the doors.

There’s a sound, a dagger cutting through the air. Instinctively I turn around and lean to the side.

I was almost too late. I feel the dagger grazing my cheek and then the blood.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He knows that I lied to him?

In the blink of an eye he’s there and squeezes my neck.

“Don’t forget that the only reason you’re alive is because of my mercy.” He leans closer and cuts off the air supply when he squeezes harder. “I expect useful information from you. If you have to then use your body. You’re only worth is your usefulness. I don’t need people who are useless.”

There’s a knock on the door behind me. He glares at me a moment longer then releases me and pulls out his dagger from the door and sheetes it.

I start coughing and try to squeeze enough air in my lungs through my bruised throat.

Damn. I almost died.

The General is already sitting at his desk when another knock sounds.

“Go, I have better things to do.”

I open the door and see General Sorrengail.

“General.” I greet her in a rasp voice.

She looks at my cheek where the blood still flows with a raised eyebrow then toward my neck.

Shit, I didn’t think. She’s not stupid. I have to get out of here.

I exit the office and without another word I’m stumbling down the stairs.

I need to go out. I need air. My thoughts are fuzzy. I almost died. The sentence repeats again and again in my head.

But depsite of it, I still can’t bear the thought of betraying the marked-ones. Liam. Xaden. I…like them.

But what if it’ll cost me my life?

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

TW! History of SA and attempted R*pe

Type: hurt comfort (angst then fluff)

Silvio's Regret

The day was April 13th. It was before the king of Rohdinite died, before Belle was selected. Before Rio was found.

Morgan was still new to palace life. Even more so to liveing in Bennonite. They wondered around the palace, seeing it was oddly quiet. They couldn't find either Silvio nor André. It felt... off.

Emildio walked up to the lost enby, "Hello there. You're Silvio's current pet, right?"

"I'm not a pet." They glared at the prince.

"And I'm not a prince. I'm sure you're looking for your owner anyway." He didn't get a reply, so he continued "he usually is out at a bar. The old man gave him a lashing again. Quite pathetic, really."

"Whats more pathetic is talking shit behind your brothers back. Any dick sucking you need me to send him?"

"Not at all, I'm sure a woman will be by his side. A real one."

Morgan wasn't exactly affected by that little comment. They just left Emidio behind and went over to a nearby bar after dressing down a bit.

They went around the bar, looking for a lot of bottles, where women weren't, anything like that. But where they found the prince. Felt wrong to them.

He was clearly drunk, a woman getting really intimate with him. Too intimate. They both got up and Silvio paied the tab.

"Do you have a place nearby?~"

"Yeashhh"

That earned a soft giggle from the woman "any pla-"

"There you are, Silvio -"

"Who the hell are you?-" the woman snapped at them. "Are you trying to manipulate the poor prince in this weakend state?-"

"They would have done that mucccchhhhh sooner if they were" the drunk Silvio cut in, leaning on the two there for support

"I don't need to tell you, but I'm here to help him"

"Why would you steal him away from his fiance?-"

"Yeah- I would definitely have heard of that and of you. But, I haven't. I've actually never seen you before. So you're clearly not close to Silvio at all"

"I-"

"NO. You can back off. Think about shit. I'm taking him back to the palace."

"Nooo Morgieeee I don't wanna go there..."

"Hm? Why?"

"To saddddddd I gotta place nearby-"

"Ok- I remember all your places here, so let's go there-"

'I hope I actually remember...'

A bit later, Morgan managed to drag Silvio to one of his local vilas. Servants came and said that they would take him. Morgan refused them, asking for a bucket, water, and some bread.

Once into a room that they knew to be Silvios, they layed him onto the bed.

"Just get it over with..."

"What?-"

"You wanna get pregnant right...? Birth me an heir...?"

"N-no- I don't want that- I don't want to-" They were shaken up by the ask, a hand moved down to their stomach. As if remembering something no longer there.

"Then... why..."

"Because I'm your friend dumbass- I may be of Obsidian- but- but... I'd never take advantage of you like that."

The drunken Silvio looked at Morgan, shocked.

Then, let out a dry laugh. "Damn... the booze made things hard... I'm going to regret that when sober..."

Morgan sighed softly, then a knock was at the door.

Morgan opened it to retrieve what they asked for, denying the 'extras' they offered. Then they returned to Silvio and gave him the water.

"Tryin' ta get me moreeee drunk?-"

"No, I'm trying to make sure the hangover doesn't kill you-"

"... thanks..." Silvio gratefully took the water and sipped at it.

They placed the bucket by his bed, in case he couldn't even move in the morning.

"Do you want anything on the bread?"

"You?"

"Not happening. Anything else?"

"Just butter then" Silvio shrugged, Morgan put butter onto the bread and handed it to Silvio, who ate from their hand.

"... how did ya know..." Silvio softly asked, laying on Morgan's lap.

Morgan sighed softly, playing with Silvio's hair "I knew a man... who..." They sighed "I'll tell you that story when you're sober, ok...?"

Silvio chuckled and moved to look up at Morgan "it's funny... people want us when we don't want em... and when we want em... they don't want us..."

"Yeah... but you should finish your water... then you can sleep ok" They helped Silvio sit back up. He finished his water before laying back down in their lap.

"Tell me one of your stories...?"

"Fine- one, ok?" They smiled softly as Silvio cuddled close, grabbing their hand and moving it to his head.

Morgan obliged and started the story. It was about a pirate and a mermaid. The pirate had captured the mermaid, planning on selling her. But talking to her, she convinced him that if she was to be let go, she would help find him whatever treasures he desired. So, seeing that this was a good deal, he let the mermaid go. The crew was mad at the pirate, demanding that he prove that the mermaid was trustworthy. So he asked the mermaid to gather him a treasure of the sea. So she brought to him the most beautiful pearls.

So, with trust being formed, they both traveled the seas and fared for any treasure they could get. Some of the men of the ship wished the mermaid as the next treasure, either to sell or keep for themselves. The pirate told the mermaid to swim far away, to never listen to a request he gave again. So, the mermaid did.

The crew was upset that they lost their money maker, throwing the pirate overboard in relation. He sunk into the deapthes of the water until he saw the mermaid again. He was shocked and confused, and then the mermaid kissed him, returning his breath. He asked her why?- Why did she do such a thjng for him? Because I love you dearly. That's why.

They looked down to see Silvio was softly resting, looking at peace for the first time that day. They smiled gentley, moving Silvio's head onto his pellow, got up, and left.

[fangirlinglikeabus]

semi-serious sand thoughts:

i’m not actually opposed to servalan/tarrant conceptually, at least within this very specific scenario...part of that i think is that if you’re going to do a story that touches on a pain servalan experienced when she was very young, bringing in a Fresh Faced Youth to evoke that period of life works. also i get the impression that getting to play the dashing hero type does appeal to tarrant - see assassin, where he’s absolutely swayed by piri being apparently emotionally vulnerable and likely to need him. so like at the very least there’s some sort of precedent within the show. the fact that he’s so QUICKLY attracted by servalan’s tears adds to some of the ambiguity surrounding to what extent she’s manipulating him because surely she knows that, despite himself, this would be an effective way to win him over - and i’m not 100% convinced that would be the case with any other character. do i think all of this is entirely realised within the episode? uh...not sure. but i do think there’s reasoning behind the whole thing.

also i just think she deserves a boy toy or two idc

speaking of tarrant. love when servalan says he saved her life and he replies ‘we’re all entitled to one really big mistake.’ like buddy you are going to make one WAY bigger by the end of this episode.

adored that final scene of servalan thinking over both keller and tarrant before crushing the water cube tarrant gave her in her hand to get rid of the last of the sand. mainly because that looks like it could surely cut you, so it just comes across as this almost self-destructive act with which she closes off the potential for emotional vulnerability which was opened up by the sand trapping them. destroying both the gift tarrant gave her and the thing that brought them together. he remains unsure how sincere she was, she gets rid of any evidence she WAS sincere and in emotional pain - and to do so she breaks glass RIGHT into the palm of her hand.

(also potentially thinking of this in relation to ‘i don’t care about us’ and her placing tarrant’s gun up to her head and daring him to shoot her - which is pretty intense even if she guesses he won’t do it. women will literally murder their way into the presidency of an authoritarian state instead of going to therapy)

another good scene, this time with the scorpio crew: soolin theorising they’re being affected by that alien mind that got onto the ship through cally and vila snapping at her and storming off, only for her to admit to avon when he queries it that she doesn’t actually believe what she just said. just...up there with her telling orac ‘you wouldn’t know where to start’ when he offers her her heart’s desires in terms of what i find to be Tantalising Soolin Character Moments.

i’ve now also watched gold and while i think it’s a very solid episode (avon losing it laughing at the end when the entire crew are pissed at him because he risked their lives for a trap that got them nothing and netted servalan a bunch of money?? man has Reached His Fucking Limit and is now firmly Past His Fucking Limit) it does disappoint me a bit that dayna and tarrant seem to be largely interacting like usual. don’t get me wrong, i do like seeing the crew act like a competent unit and i’m not asking for a big blow up, but they’re probably two of the closer members of the crew, Away Mission Buddies, and he just hooked up with the woman who killed her father. that's a massive betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and i’d have liked a bit more obvious tension there even if it was just in small moments of interaction

i honestly had a great time with sand. i think every blake’s 7 member should have an episode where they’re locked in a room with servalan, i wanna see what would happen to each of them

[aajjks]

BangChan teleports future Y/N with him to Alina while Changbin wants to teleport to the queen and king and tell them everything but he doesn’t. He was very worried as the other boys are.

BangChan looks at Y/N and says “Stay here for a moment, I will introduce you to her in a second. I don’t want to cause her to have a heart attack so wait here.”

The moment he sees Alina laying down doing yoga he bows to her and says in the smallest voice he could muster: “You-your most high grace… uh we have a problem.”

Alina opens her eyes and looks at him and asks with one eyebrow raised “What do you mean? What type of problem that can’t be solved by yourselves?”

Y/n hears an authoritarian voice and got scared and that’s when she thinks *Channie you better introduce me I feel like I need to crawl towards that voice* She got on her knees waiting for Chan to call for her but he doesn’t, not yet.

Chan sweats and licks his trembling lips and says “There is another Y/N he-“ He gets cut off by set of giggles and he looks up in wonder because this isn’t a laughing matter but dang her giggle is the most amazing and cute thing he ever heard.

Alina says while giggling at him; “You sweet wizard you, there is no such thing.. is there?” She wonders as she feels another person in the vila.

Y/n crawls towards them and says in a tiny voice “I-it’s true, wow you are beautiful hi. Uhm I’m future Y/N, you are my best friend’s wife in the future.”

Alina’s eyes widened as she questions future Y/n “Wife? Husband? Future? Wait what? Why didn’t I feel you come? Why didn’t I see you before and why do you feel so familiar!?” Y/n is the only one who notice the slight waver to her voice

Y/N looks at Chan as Chan is also panicking and Chan said “This is what I am taking about.. that’s why we need your help.”

Alina hears Chan but keeps looking at Y/N then she see something glittering around her neck. She asks Y/N to stand so she can get closer to her.

Y/n obeys her voice as she looks down as Alina looks at her necklace and gasps in shock. She says something that makes Y/N shocked because she also sees Alina with tears in her eyes “T-that’s my twin sister’s necklace… I was looking for that for a long time what are you doing with it?”

Y/n does not know what’s going on and says “I have no idea but you had a twin?!” As to prove a point their necklaces pull together. “Wait wait but I am no witch, I don’t have witchy powers! Do I? Someone gave me this necklace also with a bottle of water, they told me that I have unfinished business. I don’t know what they meant. Hey I will get this off.”

Y/n tries to take this necklace off but it isn’t working her eyes widened as she looks at Alina and says “I can’t take it off, I want to give it back to you. This isn’t mine.”

A flashback appears in her as she stands in shock of the flashback as current Alina grabs her because she knows she is having flashback.

The flashback in future Y/N’s

Younger Alina burst through the room and says “Hey hey can we dress up as Tia and Tamara in the Twitch’s movie?” Alina says desperately

Younger Y/n looks at her confused and says “Why? We look nothing alike…”

Younger Alina is bouncing with giddiness and says “I know I know but I wanna be them please I already feel like you are my sister so please please.”

Younger Y/n sighs reluctantly and says “Alright, I’ll go get the moon one, you are more bubbly than I am.”

Younger Alina still bouncing “YAYAYAYAY!” She puts on the necklace all excited when she turns around wait for Y/n to put it on.

Younger Y/n clasp the necklace in as the younger Alina grabs her and says “Let’s do the chant when they find out that they are twin witches!”

Younger Y/n and Alina grab each others hand and do the little dance as they say in unison “Go twitches, Go twitches!”

Younger Alina pulls Y/n for a hug and says “You will forever be my sis!”

Younger Eunwoo looks at them and smiles at their interaction and says “Lina, you seem to love Y/n more than I… is that true.” He says all sulky

Younger Alina says “Hey no fair! You know I am obsessed with Twitches!” She says with a pout.

The flashback ends with future Y/n

Current Alina is in shock because that is exactly what she felt with her twin sister and that was their catchphrase. Y/n looks at Alina’s necklace and it was the moon necklace while Y/n had the real sun necklace.

Meanwhile with present Bunny Koo

Bunny Koo is crying his heart out while his girlfriend was trying to comfort him. Alina and Eunwoo have a spear key as the hear his wailing already. They run toward and give him hugs.

Eunwoo looks at his girlfriend and he got a vibe that she is good. While Alina didn’t like her for Jungkook, she wanted Y/n to have his babies. Alina looks at Jungkook and says “It is ok, we are all proud of you, hopefully when we find Y/n we will scold her for scaring you. Also, it is alright we are not perfect.”

Meanwhile with Tc! Jungkook and Y/n

Y/n just let’s him hold her as she sobs and she says “She is real, she is real.. I feel it she has to be real..”

Jungkook is worried and says “What did she look like..”

Y/n looks at him and says “An older version of me.. she looked almost motherly to me. My mom is dead I know but I do not look like my mom that much. This me I speak of looks exactly like me. It isn’t a hallucination, I know what I saw.”

>3

(This is very long… Jesus help me be more shorter)

Jungkook doesn’t know how to comfort you, he is confused he doesn’t know whether to believe you or not. But right now he knows that you are having a mental breakdown so you need to be calmed down.

“sweetheart it’s OK I believe you but you need to calm down OK and right now that woman is nowhere to be seen so you need to relax.” he pats your head.

You look at him with your teary eyes, and it breaks his heart.

“ it’ll all be all right just calm down..” he kisses the crown of your head

____

“ this is really confusing. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.” The fairy queen gasps. “ but this woman seems to be telling the truth.” All of the guys agree with the woman. And they ask the queen for a solution..

“ all of the information that you’ve just told us is very dangerous because you know what happens since you are from the future so you need to be hidden away. Because all of these people who think that you are a witch would probably try to burn you, female, witches are not accepted here…” the older you gasps.

“she’s right actually we need to keep you here so you are gonna stay with us until we find out how to send you back to your era.”

____

“ I actually do not like his girlfriend.” Alina whispers to her husband.

“ Baby you don’t need to say that to him I know you don’t like her.” She agrees because it is not the best timing, but it is the karma that he’s facing for breaking her best friends heart

“ OK NOW YOU NEED TO STOP CRYING SO WE CAN GO AND FIND HER. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW HER?”

[jaelijn]

I wrote a fic. It’s decidedly not seasonal and the fact that it was written out of Neurodivergent Frustration (TM) makes me hesitate to put it up on its own on AO3, but it is S4, so if the “season” we are talking about here is the run up to Gauda Prime Day, I suppose it fit perfectly. So I let myself by convinced to post it here, as a special (and decidedly angsty) treat. Enjoy!

Gauda Prime Day Calendar 2021 Masterpost

“Why is it,” Avon asked, with a crack in his voice, “that when I tell people to stay out of my way, ‘help’ is foisted upon me, but when I ask, plainly, for ideas, there is no response?”

“Perhaps because you tell us time and again how stupid we are?” Vila retorted while Avon took a sip from his drink, moistening his lips. Vila mirrored him, feeling careless, vindictive, ill-tempered. He hated feeling this way, but he had reason enough. He’d nearly died – again – and who’d cared? The girls had laughed at him. He wasn’t in any kind of mood to humour Avon, even if they were sharing a late-night drink.

But even so, something about what Avon had said, or perhaps the way he had said it, niggled at the back of Vila’s mind enough to make him answer.

Now, Avon was glaring at him – of course. “I have never understood,” he declared, enunciating carefully, “why so many people feel the need to pretend competence beyond their skill. In the future, if I ask for suggestions, you may take it that I’m sincere.”

“Look, Avon,” Vila responded, swinging his legs down off the table. “It’s a little difficult to suggest things with you lot. Not just you, mind. You’re the cleverest person in any room, but Tarrant’s easily to most arrogant” – the corner of Avon’s mouth twitched – “Dayna laughs at everything that isn’t killing Servalan and Soolin’s as cold and contemptuous as they come.”

“And you?” Avon prompted.

“Me? Don’t worry about me–”

“Vila–”

“All I’m saying,” Vila forged on, “if you want an academic discussion, you’ve picked the wrong company.”

“I don’t want a discussion forum,” Avon snapped, his hand tightening on his glass. “I would like to receive help when and if I ask for it, and not when I expressly reject it.”

Vila shrugged. “Maybe we’re just feeling helpful.”

“You’re being contrary.”

“Is this about Terminal? Because I said, whatever you need. I didn’t go teleporting–”

“Vila, I’m not accusing you. The fact that I’m talking to you about this should tell you something.”

“Yeah. It tells me that Cally’s gone.”

Silence.

Vila wanted to take the words back instantly, but he couldn’t bring himself to prattle over them, not the way he’d been feeling.

Avon gave an odd little smile and lifted his glass to drain it.

For the first time since they’d found themselves in the common room together while Soolin had the night shift and the others were asleep, Vila paid attention to what Avon had been drinking – from the way he grimaced as it went down, it was either medicinal or alcoholic – or both. Not the wine, though – Vila was very familiar with the wine.

It was uncharacteristic, that, whatever it was – Avon rarely drank.

“I’m sorry, Avon,” Vila forced out into the silence at last. “I didn’t mean to say that. I know you miss her, too.”

“Do you?” Avon returned with raised eyebrows. His voice had gone very flat, very empty. “Tell me, oh great interpreter of humanity, why it should be someone else who decides when help is needed and not the intended recipient?”

Vila took an uneasy swallow from his own drink. He tried for a grin, didn’t know whether he’d managed. It always paid off to be wary of Avon’s more fey moods, but this was something else, something far darker. “I s’pose some people don’t realise when they need help – or they don’t ask for it, proper. So you have t’ offer. I don’t think they mean ill by trying to help!”

Avon splayed his fingers slowly and deliberately along the surface of his empty glass. “Then I suppose they don’t mean ill when they withhold help when it is explicitly requested, either, in your view?”

Vila felt vaguely trapped by the argument. “Well, sometimes they might,” he babbled hastily. “Or sometimes they might think the request wasn’t sincere, or that help isn’t really wanted.”

“Why? If a request was made–”

“You know as well as I that a lot of distress calls are traps!”

Avon shook his head sharply once. “I’m not talking about distress calls. On the personal level, Vila.”

“Look, I’m too tired for philosophical discussions! What’s this about?!”

Avon smiled again, but there was no humour in it. “Would you say, then, that a person might conceivably – hypothetically – stop asking for help altogether, if it is never given when it is requested?”

“I suppose. This isn’t about you, is it? Just some topic?”

Avon inclined his head slightly. “As you say, Vila. Just some topic.” He put his glass aside with a decisive clunk. “Go to bed, Vila, if you’re this tired. I have the second shift.”

[thewayshedreamed]

Secrets Don’t Make Friends— Feysand AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thank you to whoever sent this one in! I had an idea for Nessian, so I may post that one as well if y’all are interested! 

——————————————————————————

It was another beautiful day in Velaris, and Feyre couldn't seem to focus on her newest project assignment for anything. She found herself gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the Sidra's soothing flow and mentally mixing her various paints to capture the unique color.

Unfortunately, her firm's newest client didn't care much for river paintings since they were paying for a full digital marketing overhaul. Truth be told, she didn’t hate her job as a creative director for the largest marketing firm in Velaris. It allowed her a steady income, let her flex her creativity to some capacity, and definitely kept her on her toes. She had started as a design team member with the firm several years ago upon graduating from Prythian U, and after several largely successful projects, she started to gain more responsibilities within the team. Once her team’s creative director, Amarantha, had moved on to another firm, Feyre had been promoted to her position.

She turned back to her computer screen, willing the motivation to hit her. Any moment now.

This was a typical pattern for her. Initiating a new project was always the hardest part, but once she got started, she tumbled down the proverbial rabbit hole. She just had to... start.

“Ughh,” Feyre lamented. “I wish I was halfway through this proposal already. I’m way better at that point in the project.”

”You are pretty worthless right now,” Lucien joked. Feyre offered a vulgar gesture in return, earning a hearty laugh from her friend.

Lucien left the marketing side of the firm about a year ago, itching for a different opportunity that would allow him to express himself more freely. He felt stifled by the business side of things; the numbers, the politics, the marketing director he worked under. Tamlin hadn’t been the absolute worst to him, but his leadership style didn’t align well with Lucien for the long-term. He had ended up as a member of Feyre’s team and seemed to fill a void they weren’t aware they had.

“I can’t be that mad at you, to be honest. You’re not wrong,” she replied. “Maybe I need caffeine to get out of the post-lunch slump.”

”Someone say caffeine?”

Rhysand Vila approached, perching on the corner of Feyre’s desk. He was wearing dark khaki slacks with a black button down, rolled up to the elbows. At some point, he had ditched his tie in favor of an open neckline, likely free of meetings for the rest of the day. His casual appearance didn’t readily identify him as one of the firm’s most successful marketing directors, but his authenticity was one of the things that extended his influence the most.

Rhysand’s marketing team often collaborated with Feyre’s creative one, and they managed to create some of the most well-balanced projects within the firm. They worked so flawlessly together that they were starting to become almost exclusively paired, much to the chagrin of some of the other teams. Not only were their proposals solid, their presentations were engaging and convincing. Their perspectives on the projects, combined with their mutual respect of the other’s contributions, presented a solid, united front that built trust with their clients.

Through long work hours and multiple business trips across Prythian, Rhysand had become one of Feyre’s dear friends. When they’d originally started working together, his cockiness had grated her nerves to the nth degree, but she realized over time that it was mostly in jest. In truth, Rhysand was kind-hearted, cared deeply for the people in his life, and an incredibly supportive partner on client projects.

They’d fallen into a comfortable kind of friendship, and they’d only gotten closer with time. He’d confided in her about the toxic relationship he and Amarantha had foolishly found themselves in, and he’d listened to her never-ending rants about her brief coupling with Tamlin, nothing but understanding all over his face.

“I think a coffee run is a necessity,” Feyre said, playfulness dancing across her features.

“I left my wallet in my desk. I’ll go grab it. Meet you at the elevator?” Rhysand asked as he walked backward toward his office.

“Sounds good!” she replied. She turned to Lucien. “You coming?”

He had an odd look on his face, smirk included. She gave him a questioning look, and he let out a low chuckle. “Nah. But if I give you my card, will you grab something for me?”

”Why wouldn’t you just come? I’m not your coffee bitch, Vanserra.” That earned a full laugh.

”And I would never assume you to be. If I’m going to take a break, I don’t feel like being third wheel, is all.” The confused look returned to her face, and he continued. “Feyre, stop. It’s not my company either of you want on this little coffee date. You and Rhysand can go about your charade with anyone else, but you’re not getting that shit by me. It’s fine— you two are great together. I just can’t figure out why you insist on the secret.”

Feyre’s expression morphed into a stunned one, and it took her a few seconds to decide on a response. She and Rhysand had never crossed any lines beyond platonic, so all of this was news to her.

”Luce, I’m not sure who your source was for that little nugget of info, but don’t trust them with anything incredibly important in the future. They’re way off,” she assured him. “Text me your coffee order.”

She made her way to the elevator, finding Rhysand propped against the wall on his shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone, stray black hair falling across his brow, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered by the work day. Once the elevator made it to their floor, they stepped inside and found themselves sharing with Morrigan Reina. She was head of Human Resources, absolutely stunning, and Rhysand’s cousin. She had to admit, their genetic pool was quite impressive, all things considered. She was his opposite in every way with her brown eyes and blonde hair, but they shared immaculate bone structure and a certain elegance. Objectively speaking.

“Well, hi! This elevator ride just got way more fun. How’s is going, Rhysie? Fey?” Her dark eyes sparkled, dancing over Rhysand’s face. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, silently communicating with him in that way only family can.

”Oh, come off it, Mor. We’re on a coffee run. Care to join?” Something in his tone seemed oddly like a challenge. She realized she hadn’t yet answered Morrigan but felt like a response of “Doing well” would seem out of context, since Rhys had already transitioned away from greetings. She deciding on standing there awkwardly, pretending not to feel incredibly intimidated by this woman in the elevator.

“So sweet of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. This is my floor actually. Unfortunately, I have a termination meeting to attend. Have some for me!” She brushed her cheek against his in a mock kiss. “Good seeing you, Feyre!” She disappeared so quickly that Feyre started to doubt if she was ever there in the first place.

“Awfully prickly with your dear cousin this afternoon, Rhysie,” she teased.

”Well, dearest Mor can be quite the busy body and likes to think she knows all of my secrets.” He gave a small eye roll, but the smirk on his face gave his affection away.

“You have my attention. I think it’s only fair that I’m let in on this little secret.”

She swore the tops of his bronze ears turned slightly pink. “I assure you I’m not that interesting, Feyre Darling.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimed, and they were walking into their building’s lobby. The coffee shop was right next door, so they made their way there quickly. Within 10 minutes, they had their coffees in hand and were sharing an elevator with a small crowd on their way back to work. Feyre regretted that she wasn’t able to press Rhys for his secrets anymore but supposed it was for the best.

He took the long way to his office in order to drop her off at her desk. She set Lucien’s coffee down on his desk with just enough force to startle him out of his work, earning a laugh from Rhys. Lucien simply glared at her before mumbling his thanks and taking a long pull of coffee.

“Well, Feyre Darling, this is where I leave you.”

Lucien eyed her over his coffee lid, lowering it slowly as he paid full attention to their exchange.

Feyre chuckled, ignoring Lucien altogether. “Thanks for returning me safely. I fully intend on pulling at least one secret from you on the next trip, though. You’ve been warned.”

His violet eyes bore into hers, amusement all over his face. “Do your worst,” he replied, winking at her as he sipped his coffee and walked away.

——————————————————————————

Coffee seemed to be just the inspiration Feyre needed to hit her creative stride for the afternoon. She finally managed to land on a prospective theme for the new account, and she was busy making some rough sketches on her drawing tablet. A booming voice called out to her from down the hall, and she recognized it immediately as Tamlin. Of course he would recruit her attention once she was finally feeling productive.

“Feyre, could you come down as soon as you’re free? I’d like you to do a consult with Ianthe.”

She forced herself to refrain from rolling her eyes, trying her best to be diplomatic.

“Sure, Tamlin. Be there in a bit.”

He hesitated at his office door, poorly masking his impatience when she didn’t immediately jump out of her chair. Typical.

She was already annoyed at his loud declaration across the office that he was asking her to give feedback on another creative director’s work. She didn’t feel particularly protective over Ianthe. It was just poor form, and it set the tone for resentment with no true reason.

Finally, she stood and made her way to his office. He was in his office chair, Ianthe pointing to various items of interest on a flat screen mounted to the wall. She greeted Feyre politely, but it didn’t seem like she was all to keen on getting her feedback.

“What can I help with?” Feyre offered.

“I wanted to see what you thought about the account we’re working on. Considering that you’ve been monopolized by Vila for months, I thought I could at least get a brief consult,” he explained.

Feyre decided to mentally count how many underhanded comments she’d endure over the course of this meeting.

One.

”Sure. What’s up?”

Ianthe launched into the cliff notes of her project, Tamlin contributing nothing the entire time.

“I’m sure you’re probably swamped with whatever you’re working on Feyre, so I appreciate you taking time to look at what I’ve put together.” Ianthe seemed genuine enough. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her, but she felt bad for her all the same.

Before she could respond, Tamlin inserted himself. “Oh, she’s definitely seems busy. Just not sure how much of it is work-related.” Her head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. She steadied herself and turned her attention back to Ianthe to try and keep this meeting on track.

Two.

”Honestly, Ianthe, I think you have a great proposal overall. My only suggestion is that you consider a different color focus. Your primary color for the logo is red, and that happens to be the main color of their largest competitor’s logo as well,” she stated, ignoring Tamlin entirely.

He started to say something about her input, but she quickly interrupted him.

“How unfortunate that the person responsible for doing the relevant market research into any competitors didn’t think that to be relevant intel to bring to the project,” she finished, eyes gravitating back to Tamlin’s face.

”Good catch,” Ianthe said simply.

“It’s happened to me before, too. Don’t create too much additional work for yourself. Maybe see about pulling one of your coordinating colors forward instead, and see how that plays out. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

”I’m not sure how you’ve managed to convince Vila to do all that extra legwork on your behalf, but it sounds like you’re awfully convincing,” Tamlin seethed. He couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

Three.

It was quiet for several uncomfortable seconds. As if on cue, her savior himself appeared in Tamlin’s doorway, a friendly smile on his face just for her. He knocked with his knuckle as he glanced around the room.

“Sorry for interrupting. Feyre, could you stop by my office before you head out today? Nothing big. Our last account sent an email asking for some minor changes, and I wanted to get your input before I tell them anything,” he said.

“Of course, Rhys. I’ll be there in a second,” she replied. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, that rogue strand of hair kissing his brow yet again. When he walked away, she immediately felt compelled to follow him, as if he took the light straight out of the room when he left.

“You may go, Ianthe,” Tamlin stated dryly. She quickly excused herself, repeating her thanks to Feyre on the way out.

“You realize you two are partners— she doesn’t work for you.”

“Our dynamic is hardly your business, Feyre.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she hated the way he spoke to people who worked with him. It had always bothered her.

“Says the guy who all but insinuated that I’m putting out to get Rhys to be a good partner on projects. You’re unbelievable.”

“All of the speculation that circulates around this office regarding you and Rhysand, and you’re caught on what I’ve said? Feyre, sweetie. I thought we were past this.”

”It seems as though the lot of you aren’t busy enough if you have all this time to discuss whether Rhys and I have some secret affair happening under your noses. Maybe if you put half that effort into your job duties, you’d be an almost decent partner to Ianthe,” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with me and Ianthe. We’ll work together in whatever way works for us. Plus, you basically belong to Rhys now, so you won’t have to worry over having to work with the likes of me.” The way he mockingly said Rhys’ name made her want to punch him in the throat.

She turned on her heel to leave, so angry that she didn’t trust herself to respond professionally. Once she got to the doorway, she found the words rolling off her tongue without a conscious thought.

“I ‘belong’ to no one. Your problem is that you see people as assets rather than building relationships. You should consider incorporating a little humanity into your leadership. You may find yourself a little less miserable to work for or be around. From now on, Ianthe can address me directly if she needs me. You, sir, can fuck off.”

——————————————————————————

Feyre made her way directly to Rhysand’s office, still fuming. She probably needed a quick break on the roof to clear her head, but it was already 4:30. She didn’t want to make Rhys stay late so that she could pout properly. Although, he’d probably do that for her if she asked.

She approached his door, knocking lightly when she saw he was on the phone. He waved her in as he finished his call. He let out a polite chuckle at whomever was on the line, and she wondered how even his contrived laughter sounded almost musical.

“Absolutely. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Bye.” He placed the receiver of his office phone into the cradle and faced her fully.

“Hey there, Feyre Darling. Thanks for saving some time for me today. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I wasn’t sure when if I’d be able to catch you later.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm rest, and cupped his large hand to run it over his face. So he was tired, too.

Feyre let out a low chuckle. “You’re my hero, basically. Your timing was absolutely perfect. Never hesitate to interrupt if Tamlin is the person I’m talking to.”

His bright, violet eyes seemed to linger on her face. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you laugh again,” he mused. “It’s become one of my favorite sounds, I think.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, and she found one mirrored on his own. She cleared her throat, unsure how to tame the butterflies she was experiencing at his words.

“Shall we?” She motioned to his computer, and he nodded. She pulled her chair to his desk so that she could see, but he forced her to switch with him, insisting she take control of moving through the project.

She wasn’t sure if she was reading way too much into the weird comments she had heard today about her and Rhys, but she was acutely aware of his thigh so close to hers. It was far enough that they weren’t flush, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the most distracting way.

He already had the project pulled up on the screen and asked her to move through the document to the place of the proposed changes. He reached across her slightly to point at something, and she was instantly immersed in his scent. She found it oddly comforting, if she was honest with herself.

“So what do you think? Is it a simple fix? Or would this be something beyond the originally contracted rate? If it’s going to take you some time, I think it’s appropriate that we negotiate an additional fee, especially considering we’ve just initiated another large account.”

”Mmm. It’s been a while. Mind if I play with it for a minute?” she asked.

”Yeah, for sure. Take your time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as she worked.

Several minutes passed in excruciating silence, causing Feyre to break out in nervous laughter.

“You can talk to me, you know. It’s eerily quiet in here,” she joked.

He huffed a laugh. ”Hmm, okay. Anything particularly interesting around the office today?”

She thought immediately of her conversations with Lucien and Tamlin, and she couldn’t help but include their interaction with Mor in the elevator on the list. It really was such a weird day.

She worked for a couple of seconds before she replied. “It was quite the day, to say the least. I learned a lot about myself via the grapevine.”

”You mean to tell me there’s gossip in this office?”

”This very one,” she replied through a laugh.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s been said about you, Darling.”

She big her bottom lip, nervous of how he would react. “Well, it’s not exclusive to me. It has to do with you, too.” Her eyes never left the computer screen as she spoke.

“I like how that looks,” he said in regard to her edits, jumping straight back into their original conversation. “Now you have to tell me, especially if I’m involved.”

He offered a small poke to her ribs, laughing at her jerking away from him and the glare it earned. “Spill, Archeron.”

Before she could chicken out, she described her interaction with Lucien prior to their coffee run. He went entirely still as she spoke, eyes trained on the screen. When she finished, he said, “I see. I bet Lucien thinks he’s quite clever, then... Oh wait, I like that better.” He pointed to a small change she made.

He seemed so indifferent, and despite her attempts to the contrary, it bothered her that he was acting so cavalier. She had to check herself, remembering how ridiculous she had found the comments only a handful of hours ago. It was certainly unfair to have expectations of him being that she had barely finished processing this afternoon’s events.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty proud of himself. I don’t know how much he believed me when I told him he was off-base, but time will tell, I guess.” She immediately launched into her interaction with Tamlin, outlining the full interaction for him.

His jaw was tense throughout the story, and she could see his shoulders tighten when she would share a particularly tasteless thing Tamlin said. They tended to stay out of each others’ ways, so sometimes it was easy to forget how much animosity existed between the two of them. She finished the entire story, and decided to wrap up everything in a brief summary.

”So yeah, according to Lucien and Tamlin, you and I are hiding a super secret little office affair. But apparently we’re really bad at it, because everyone knows.” She let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding. His response was swift.

“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous.” He stated, so matter of fact. “Go back to that one really quick— if you don’t mind.” His eyes never left the screen. All business, all of a sudden.

Okay. Now, his indifference stung. She thought she knew Rhysand well enough that he would cushion the blow better than this if he were totally shooting her down. She didn’t like how detached he was, and come to think of it, it’s not like she had offered herself to him anyway. For all he knew, she could find the idea of them dating totally repulsive.

“You could do a lot worse for yourself, you know,” she said, anger bubbling to the service. She saw his head snap toward her, but she refused to look at him.

”What?”

”I know you could walk out of this office and take your pick, but you could do worse for yourself than me. It can’t be that ‘fucking ridiculous’.” She clenched her jaw to force herself to stop talking and breathe.

He sat there looking at her, his attention to the project entirely derailed.

“Feyre...” he started.

”It’s late. I’ll finish looking at this tomorrow. Could you save the changes and upload to the cloud? I think I can make quick work of it.”

”Would you look at me, please?”

She let go of the computer mouse and covered her face with both hands. She rubbed her face roughly as she spoke.

“I’m just tired, Rhysand. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just forget I said anything. Really, I’m okay.” She didn’t want to see the pity in his face or listen to any explanations. She just needed to get out of there.

She felt one of his hands grip softly around the wrist closest to him as he turned the chair to get her to face him. She kept her face covered, leaning forward, and he had the nerve to laugh softly at her.

“You are such a stubborn, difficult woman sometimes, Feyre Darling.” He gripped her other wrist with his free hand and pulled her hands away from her face. She was too tired to fight him on it, so she let him. She fixed her gaze on his thighs, not entirely prepared for what his expression would show.

“Please look at me,” he whispered. She melted at the tone of his voice, imploring her to make eye contact, and raised her eyes to meet his.

He rubbed slow circles on the sensitive underside of her wrists as he spoke. “In no way, is the idea of me being with you ridiculous. What is so ridiculous to me, Darling, is the idea that I could ever be with you and delude myself into thinking I could keep it a secret,” he murmured, the sincerity in his expression overwhelming her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, readying himself to finish. “Cauldron, Feyre. If you ever let me love you... I wouldn’t have it in me to contain it.”

She was frozen in her chair, in total disbelief. Once she finally regained control of herself, she reached her hand up to smooth his hair back into place. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“That piece of hair has been driving me insane all day long,” she whispered. She was closer now, so much closer to him than she had ever been. She dropped her hand back to her lap to find his again.

His eyes popped open, traveling across her face and landing on her full lips. She watched his tongue dart out of his mouth slightly to wet his own before she regained eye contact. She leaned forward a little more, his hand coming up to brush her hair behind her ear. He cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek.

“Feyre?” It was barely a whisper, but it was everything.

She subtly nodded her head, and his lips were on hers. He was slow, near reverent as he kissed her, and she leaned in to him, craving more contact. He slid his hand a little farther back so that his fingers could find their home in her hair, just behind her ear. She braced her hand on his forearm, and he pulled her face into his, only slightly, to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper as Rhys angled himself to better capture her mouth, and just like that, she was gone. She no longer registered that they were in Rhys’ office or that his door was still open from when she arrived. As far as she was concerned, the world began and ended with them.

They both missed the quick footsteps as Lucien passed by on his way back to his desk from a meeting. They were entirely unaware of his halt as he realized what he’d witnessed and his prompt back peddling. It was when they heard his quiet rasp that they startled, breaking apart only millimeters.

”I fucking knew it!” he whisper-screamed, obviously pleased with himself.

True to Rhysand’s nature, he seemed totally unfazed by Lucien’s discovering them. He brushed his nose over Feyre’s, a grin spreading across his beautiful face.

”Fuck off, Lucien,” he crooned playfully.

His mouth was on hers yet again, neither of them noticing the soft click of the door as Lucien backed out of the office.

——————————————————————————

Just a bit of Feysand fluff for y’all! Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08​ // @maastrash​

[whynotwinnie]

Timida part 2: Roger Taylor x OC

a quick part 2 that i wrote just now hopefully I keep the momentum lol

Timida Part 2 

No Trigger warnings yet (there is one cuss word though)

MICKEY

“It took you long enough,” Roger said you could see his fake mad face from here. You couldn’t help but laugh checking the clock on your wall reading 7:37

“Sorry, I left the cafe a little later than expected.”

“What time did you end up leaving?”

“It was almost 7 when I walked out.”

“Are you kidding me?” he shouted into the receiver. You flinched at the sudden noise jerking your head from the speaker.

“I was literally right there, I could’ve stopped by after recording to go see you again. I thought you would be gone by then.” hearing the pout that he definitely had on his face made your heart jerk.

“I actually usually stay there for a while, I don’t like being at home by myself,” you cringed at yourself realizing how you sound “I mean like- I don’t like being lonely,” you ran your hand through your hair wishing you could go back in time.

“I understand what you mean like you realize how alone you are when you’re… well alone. I used to get like that too when I moved out but now that I live with one of my bandmates I wish I could be alone.” He joked.

God, he is so nice and respectful good thing you didn’t hang up.

“That’s exactly how I feel.” you almost whispered to the receiver

“Don’t feel bad I’m sure everyone has gone through that in one way or another, but hey you’re never alone you have me, and if you’re lucky I’ll only bother you all the time.”

You laughed, he is so good at talking you felt yourself start to relax and you pulled a nearby chair to the phone hook so you can sit and talk.

“How was your band recording going?” wishing you sounded less awkward than you felt. 

“It was great actually we hardly fought this time and we didn’t have to record the same song more than six times so I’ll say it’s a win.”

“Do you guys fight often?”

“Well… Noooo-yeah we do but we know not to take it to heart we all just want the best for the group, by the end of the day whatever fight broke out is forgotten and forgiven. It’s very rare that we don’t fight but hey, maybe today was my lucky day with meeting you and a good band practice.”

Your face burned. 

“Oh well, I got free coffee today and met you so I think I got lucky too.”

You spent the rest of the time getting to know little things about each other

What’s your last name? Taylor, What’s yours? Oliviero-Vila. What’s your favorite color? Black, can I guess yours. Sure. Purple. No, it’s Green. Green does suit you, Mickey. Do you have any siblings? Yeah, my sister is named Clare. Do you have siblings? I have four older brothers. Jesus Christ four? Yeah, their names are Lucas, Marcelino, Benvolio, and Matias. How was that? Yeah, growing up was a pain but I love them… I guess. Do you have a middle name, mine is Luciana. No, I don’t have a middle name. You don’t? Nope. Are you sure? I’m sure. Are you lying? No why would I lie about my middle name? I don’t know maybe because you don’t like it. Who doesn’t like their middle name? Roger are you going to tell me your middle name or not. Fine… It’s Meddows. I like it! Well of course you do, you’re a girl. I’ll switch you Luciana for Meddows. I’ll take that deal.

It went on and on until he brought up what you did for work. 

“Well it’s kind of a long story but I used to work for this seamstress downtown but recently I decided to go a different direction and work for myself.”

“So do you like fix clothes?” 

Ouch 

“Well I do that, but I also make my own clothes which is my real passion but as of right now all the orders I get are me making hemlines or fixing a patch.” 

“Where have you advertise your stuff?”

“At the cafe actually I put my information on the community bulletin board and got a handful of customers.”

“Next time you and I can go hang flyers all throughout town advertising your stuff if you want.”

“That’s okay,” you said grinning “I think I’m doing well for myself as of right now.”

“Let me kno- Fred are you serious right now Mickey can you give me a second please.”

You heard commotion on the other end of the line another voice and Roger arguing back and forth until.

“Hello Darling, is this Mickey?” you heard Rogers voice faintly in the background “Fred stop that’s not funny.”

“Umm yes.”

“You sound pretty I can understand why Roger was an hour late to recording today.” Rogers voice again in the back “C’mon don’t do that”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know he had anywhere to be.” were you in trouble right now?

“That’s okay dear I don’t blame you, of course, it’s this devil over here that causes all the trouble. But I have to say he could not stop talking about you he just kept going on and on about how you were so beautiful and how funny you are.”

You stayed quiet, how are you supposed to answer that?

“I don’t think I’m that funny.” 

The other voice laughed “I think we’re going to get along great, I’m Freddie one of Roger’s bandmates and his flatmate so for future warning don’t fuck in my room.”

You choked red in the face “Oh gosh no- I wouldn’t- I mean in your room- I mean I just met Ro-”

“I’m just joking darling! Please you are too sweet I’ll let you go but I do expect to see you soon. Ta!” Freddie then handed the phone to Roger who had some choice words for him.

“I’m so sorry about that Mickey, I couldn’t grab the phone from him because he was sitting on me.”

“It’s okay no harm done, he is actually quite funny.”

“Yeah, he’s like that all the time.” he yawned you checked the time 12:26.

“I can let you go, I think that’s enough excitement for the day,” you said 

“I would love to continue to talk to you Mickey, honestly.” 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” you said softly

“Yes please,” he sighed “Our recording ends at the same time but on the weekend we’re off, do you think I can take you on a date then?”

“I would like that very much, Roger.” 

“Great. I’ll let you get your sleep now Mickey.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Roger.”

“Goodnight love” and he hung up.

That “goodnight love” kept replaying in your head until it felt fake, you couldn’t possibly go to bed. 

You looked back at the discarded fabric at your work station and decided that it was time to start the gown.

You turned on your ancient sewing machine and pulled out your mannequin to drape the fabric on. 

Five hours later you had finished a dark blue off shoulder, A-line evening dress. It was simple but chic. You wish you had a camera so you could take a photo of it but the sketch would do. Maybe you could ask the client to take a photo of it for you so you can save it to your portfolio. You yawned shaking your head, now you really needed to go to bed.

Taking off your jeans you slid into your comforter thinking about how your day played out, wondering what turn of events led you to meet Roger. Thinking about him made your heart squeeze and then you thought of the last thing he said to you was “Good night love.” and you shut your eyes and slept.

[captain-aralias]

How about 34 & 35 for the meme?

hello, friend! and thank you.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

for you - a bit of the first b7 fic i ever wrote - avon-vila fake marriage for crime. i wrote this fic on a high of being in love with the characters and the way they talk to each other. great fun. and the name is inspired, if i say so myself: Something Borrowed.

Avon turned and Servalan smiled broadly at him. She was wearing an extravagant white dress, cut close around the waist and dropping to an enormous multi-layered skirt.

“Hello Avon,” she said. “Looking for this?” She held up a hand, which was supporting a massive, multi-faceted stone.

“You didn’t ask Orac who the Earl was marrying, did you?” Vila asked.

“No,” Avon said flatly. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

Servalan laughed. “And Vila’s here, too. How wonderful. I didn’t know you two were married.”

“We’re not really,” Vila said before Avon could stop him.

“Not married?” Servalan repeated sweetly and everyone in the marquee fell silent. The two couples nearest to Vila and Avon seized hold of their arms.

Avon laughed. “Vila likes a little joke,” he said. “We were just talking about that when you arrived, Servalan. Weren’t we, snookums? Your fabulous sense of humour.”

“Oh yes,” Vila said, catching on slightly too slowly. “Fabulous. Everyone says so. Well, nearly everyone.”

“Darling,” Servalan said, as her new husband joined her, “these two men aren’t really married.”

“Not married?” the Earl said, clearly horrified.

“All right. So we’re not,” Vila said. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a stupid tradition.”

Servalan smiled again.

“The big deal,” Avon said through gritted teeth, “is that anyone who isn’t married and who attends the wedding anyway is put to death.”

“You didn’t mention that,” Vila said.

“I didn’t think it was relevant!”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Avon, a lot of things you didn’t think were relevant are now turning out to be very relevant.”

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

er.... this is such a big scope! gosh - what do i want to say???

i love prompts! i know you do too.

i really really like thinking - ok, so how would this work?? one of the things i like most about fic (which i definitely said before) is the constraints. and it's one of the reasons i love writing AU-canon divergence the most. you're working in the world as established BUT with one(ish) change. i love that - writing the ripple effect, and getting to play with the fact that readers know what really happened.

again - i know i've said this before, but i don't think i can say it enough, and this is a RAMBLE so goddammit, here we go - i think people underestimate the fact that fanfiction as a genre is different from other genres. not just - because it's about these characters that everyone already knows and so you don't have to do the set-up, although that too, but also BECAUSE you have this other canon there too and so the reader has this knowledge that the characters don't have and so when you're writing, you're constantly playing with the reader's expectations of what will happen.

i read chapter 1 of Summer Haze by @im-gettingby the other day, and it's a canon divergence fic set in Las Vegas but where WS never happened - and there's a great scene where Baz's employer arrives and it's a character we know from WS. if you were just writing a story, you'd just think 'wow, this guy is a creep', but because it's a fanfic we KNOW absolutely that this is important, and we know at least some of what MIGHT happen because this particular character is here, if the story followed the plot of the book. and that's really fun - because we don't know whether we're right about that assumption, or we might be lulled into a false sense of security.

people have written before - particularly re doctor who - about how actually there's satisfaction in a story being just guessable enough and that playing off in a satisfying way, as opposed to the author being SO clever that no one could possibly guess... which has its own pleasures, but is over-rated. and again, i think there's a lot of that in fanfic. and it shouldn't be under-rated.

ramble ramble.

–

from this list of asks.

[kuriquinn]

Wait For Me

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Original Prompt by: @toscafan

"Olá. Você poderia escrever uma fic onde após Sasuke voltar para a vila, Sakura vai em uma missão e é gravemente ferida. Então Sasuke percebe que seus sentimentos por ela cresceram quando ele a vê ferida no hospital. Talvez com um pouco de Naruto preocupado também. Eu imagino isso entre o período que Sasuke volta para Konoha e antes de eles partirem juntos em suas viagens. Suas histórias são maravilhosas :) eu sinto muito não escrever em inglês :( “

[Roughly:  Hello, Could you write a fic where after Sasuke returns to the village, Sakura goes on a mission and is seriously injured. Then Sasuke realises that his feelings for her have grown when he sees her injured in the hospital. Maybe with a bit of Naruto worried too. I imagine it between the time Sasuke returns to Konoha and before they leave together on their travels.]

Author’s Note: As promised during Evil Author Day, I am trying to finish some of my WIPs. I actually managed to finish this one (Prompt # 4), which is a total miracle given how I’ve been feeling lately. And the fact I think this one is like...two years old. So yeah, major backlog of stuff that needs writing. Enjoy!

Beta Reader: None but me and my editing software :)

________________________________________________________________

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It shouldn’t have happened.

The words repeat themselves on a loop in Sasuke’s head, like a record player tossed asunder, skipping unerringly back over the same line in a song. In every momentary pause where the words begin to repeat, there is a breath, an extended moment of tension where his chest feels tighter and tighter.

She hasn’t been on active duty rosters since the war. Her field is medicine, not defense or combat or infiltration, and as strong and talented as Haruno Sakura is, she’s still human and prone to mistakes. Shinobi work isn’t like riding a bike. You have to continue to exercise your particular skillset daily, or mistakes can be made, leading to mishaps, leading to—

It shouldn’t have happened.

サスサク

When the call came in for a relief-force of medicnin, it wasn’t unusual. War or no, there are still major medical emergencies and disasters. In this case, reports reached Konoha of an earthquake 350 miles away. Though the village had barely experienced a tremor, the quake had apparently devastated the shepherding community living at the base of the mountain.

As a rule, Sakura should have stayed behind to coordinate everything from the village; with Tsunade on another of her gambling jaunts, she was the most senior healer.

But the devastated town was without its own medical corps, and the number of injured was overwhelming. Every able pair of hands was needed and naturally, Sakura volunteered herself for the mission.

“I can do the work of a dozen medics and they might need someone to lift debris,” she informed the Sixth Hokage when he seemed likely to protest. “I also trained the latest group of emergency medics going out there; they’re still relatively untested in the field. Better they take their orders from me than some random jounin that you assign.”

Kakashi knew better than to argue with his former student, but he was reluctant. For some reason, he was uneasy. There was little reason for it that he could discern, but after all his years as a shinobi, he had learned to heed his instincts.

“Please, Lord Sixth, there are many large families there, with children.”

Against that—with no concrete reason to give—he could not say no.

“Do you need anyone else beyond the emergency medics?”

“Any civilians with basic first aid training,” Sakura replied, pleased at the response. “Whichever doctors and staff can be spared. The general surgeons, perhaps, but no one with specialized training or technique that we would supper from losing.”

Kakashi nodded and made a gesture she recognized to mean an official granting of the request.

“Ideally, you’d send Naruto as well. He could use the Nine-Tails chakra to mass-heal the simplest injuries. It would make triage a lot faster.”

“That’s not in my power. I’m already on thin ice with the Elders for my executive order to pardon Sasuke. I doubt they’ll want him leaving the village any time soon.”

Sakura scowled.

Under normal circumstances she would argue—she had long ago made clear her dislike  and distrust for the village Elders—but every minute spent arguing was wasting crucial time.

“Can you try to convince them?” she asked as she turned to leave the office. “We should be sending out best for this.”

“We already are,” Kakashi said with ease, and there was a smile in his eyes. The one Sakura returned was only a little strained, mind already on her future patients.

サスサク

Sasuke was on a short, probationary mission at the time, in the complete opposite direction from the disaster zone. He didn’t even hear about the earthquake until two days later.

While handing his mission report to Kakashi, he may have been somewhat surprised to learn Sakura would not be around to greet him the way she usually did—and Kakashi’s eyes had a far too knowing gleam in them when he mentioned it—but it never occurred to Sasuke that she would be in any kind of danger.

At least, nothing she wasn’t capable of handling for herself.

For those two days, Sasuke carried out his usual routine, slowly acclimating to being back in service to the village. It still wasn’t his preference to be around so many people, and there was a constant sense of discomfort that lingered at the back of his mind. The sensation of eyes on him from all over, ANBU and civilian alike, heavy with judgement and fear. The only time that feeling abated, even for just a little, was when he was around Sakura, Naruto or Kakashi.

Still, he wasn’t willing or able to seek any of them out. They all have busy lives, and he earned that judgement and fear from the village. It would be an easy feat to leave and never return, but he didn’t deserve easy. Remaining here was part of his punishment, and so he would learn to live with it.

At home, when the constant surveillance became too much, he went to an empty training ground and put himself through various sword forms or engage in other exercises. In two years, he’s grown used to living and fighting with only one arm, but it’s the constant practice that keeps him lethal.

On the morning of the third day he is going through one of his complex sword kata in the training ground where Kakashi made them genin. He tells himself it’s coincidence and not sentimentality that brought him here this morning, even as the three posts stand vigil over his training like towers of memory.

Today he is working only on form and movement, not using any techniques requiring chakra, just trying to sharpen his movements into their usual lethal grace.

As he uncoils from a low final arc of his sword, returning to a resting position, there is a sudden cracking noise; his gaze snaps toward it, and he watches as—apropos of nothing—the wooden post to his far right splits right down the middle.

Sasuke immediately goes still, focussing his awareness around himself and the area, scanning for danger. There is no one in this place foolish enough to try something—even if he wasn’t lethal on his own, the ANBU escorts hidden in the shadows would have been alerted.

The wind continues meander, sending leaves rustling; the sound of birds and the distant crash of the river do not change. There is not threat that he can detect, nothing but a growing sense of foreboding.

And then the ground begins to shake.

As far as earthquakes go, it’s not the worst he’s experienced. He has no problem remaining on his feat as the ground roils and trembles. Even the trees surrounding him show no sign of shuddering.

It’s small and innocuous, nothing on the same level as the one Sakura was sent to help with.

His eyes drift, lingering on the cracked post.

Memory conjures an image of a gawky twelve year old with too-long-to-be-practical hair and luminous green eyes betraying strain and discomfort as she feeds their third teammate tied to the middle post.

It’s probably nothing.

But for some reason his focus on his exercises vanishes, replaced instead with a growing disquiet in the pit of his stomach.

It only grows with every moment as he returns to the village proper and, without knowing why, makes a beeline for Hokage Tower. All around him, people talk excitedly about the tremor, laughing it off and telling one another what they were doing when they noticed it. It’s just a facet of their day, something that—while uncommon—is not dangerous enough to merit panic.

So why does he suddenly feel uneasy?

サスサク

Sasuke arrives at the Tower at the same time as Naruto, a face which causes his inexplicable agitation to ratchet immediately higher, especially given his friend’s uncharacteristic frown and the absence of his usual joking greeting.

Without exchanging words, they enter Kakashi’s office and are immediately treated to the sight of their former instructor pacing by the window, a frown drawing his brows together. The coiled cord of the telephone stretches and relaxes with his back-and-forth movements. It’s so in contrast to his usual demeanor—lazily slouched in his chair—that Sasuke’s spine stiffens in response.

Kakashi eventually hangs up the phone and faces his students.

“There was a second earthquake,” he tells them gravely. “Right next to the refugee camp we set up. According to reports, about 180 million tons of mountainside have crumble down onto the camp. They don’t know if there are any survivors.”

Sasuke’s fist clenches and Naruto’s eyes blink into slits as he activates his senjutsu.

“I can’t sense Sakura’s chakra,” he says, a panicked note in his voice. “Usually I get a definite flicker from her, even at this distance…”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sasuke tells him. “She masks her chakra when she’s on medical missions to avoid presenting a target.”

He’s not sure how he knows this, since he can’t recall if she mentioned any such practice in their conversations since he’s been back, yet he knows it to be true. Still, this knowledge brings no comfort with it, because the uncomfortable pit in his stomach remains.

“She would be healing everyone after a huge disaster like that,” Naruto protests. “I’d definitely sense that. But I can’t.”

Which, admittedly, worries Sasuke a little despite his unshakable faith in Sakura’s abilities.

Naruto turns to Kakashi, his shoulders squared as if in preparation for a fight. “I’m going to check on her. Even if she’s fine, they’ll need help digging survivors out. I can definitely help with that.”

“Fine,” Kakashi says. The fact he doesn’t argue or mention the concerns of the Elders is telling. “If you leave now, you should get there within—”

Sasuke doesn’t stay to listen.

He’s already climbing the stairs to the roof where there is more open space.

He is by no means an expert at using his Rinnegan yet—every day heralds a new ability or application—but he has more or less figured out how to travel between far distant locations instantly.

“Oi! Sasuke! Wait up!” Naruto shouts from behind as Sasuke focusses himself on creating a pathway. He glanced the coordinates he needs on the papers covering Kakashi’s desk, knows where he’s supposed to go—

The space in front of him crackles, displacing the air, and then rips open, forming a portal of swirling violet energy. On the other side, he can discern a giant wall of rubble.

He wastes no time slipping through, trusting Naruto to follow directly behind him.

サスサク

The sight before them is a grim one.

Sasuke hasn’t seen destruction on this scale since the war.

Mountains loom around them, the closest one looking misshapen due to the giant shelf that has vanished as if scraped off with a giant chisel. Its remnants spill out in front of it, creating a smaller mountain of churned earth and rock, uprooted trees and other debris.

People gather around, civilian and shinobi alike, covered in dust and digging frantically at the rubble. Likely the lucky few who were far enough away when the second quake hit to avoid the harm.

There are almost no Konohanin, medicnin or otherwise, that he can see, suggesting a grim truth to him: they are all underneath the remains of the mountain. Dead, most likely, or trapped and dying as the seconds pass.

But where is Sakura?

She could survive being buried under such weight, and should have dug her way out by now. Stone and rock are like cottage cheese to her strong fists.

“Naruto!”

The two newcomers glance up as a Konohanin scrambles toward them. As he gets closer, Sasuke recognizes him as the kid Sakura has taken on as an assistant. Ando something or other.

“We need help!” the kid gasps when he arrives in front of them, dust-covered and exhausted. “We can’t shift the earth using doton because it could hurt the people underneath.”

The jinchuriki is already forming the signs to summon up shadow clones. If this has to b cleared by hand, he’s the best man for the job. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

“We’ll get through this without a problem!”

“Believe it!”

The clones are already spreading out across the landscape, like a sea of orange washing over the scene.

Sasuke stares down at the boy. “Where is Sakura?”

Ando goes pale beneath the fine layer of dust, eyes pained. “When the earthquake stared, she was trying to get everyone in the medical tents to safety. When she realized she couldn’t, she tried to create barriers to stop the worst of the damage using doton. But it was coming on too fast, and so she tried to slow down the avalanche—"

“Of course she did,” Sasuke murmurs to himself, teeth gritted.

“—but it wasn’t enough! The last I saw, she was destroying the rocks coming at her, but then she was buried.”

“And where were you in all this?”

There’s an accusation in his words that has made stronger men tremble, but Ando merely shudders and clenches his fists. No shrinking violets working with Sakura, that’s for sure.

“I was on water duty. The rivers here were all polluted by the first quake, and so I had to travel far. I saw it all from that cliff up there and hurried down here as fast as I could to help, but…”

He gestures ineffectively, clearly not knowing where to start.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells all of a sudden, and Sasuke’s head whips toward where he is helping a woman with shredded clothing to climb from the rubble. She is remarkably stable on her feet, considering the situation, and Sasuke understands a moment later when he sees the white creature attached to her shoulder.

“Lady Katsuyu!” Ando cries and hurries over, followed closely by SAsuke.

“Where’ Sakura?” Naruto demands as the younger boy helps the quake victim to sit down. “Is she okay?”

“She’s at the very bottom,” Katsuyu says fretfully. “There’s an airpocket and she’ll still have air for a little while, but she’s gravely injured. Her entire lower body is crushed.” Sasuke’s heart constricts painfully. “I tried to help, but she insisted I attach myself to all the refugees, to keep them alive until help arrives. I fear she won’t be able to keep it up very long. Even my healing can’t save the people buried so long without oxygen.”

“Little fool,” Sasuke growls, the viciousness of the words surprising him more than the situation. Of course she’s more worried about the survival of her patients and the others instead of herself.

“We’re getting her out,” Naruto declares, summoning more clones. “We’ll get her and everyone else out!”

And Sasuke finds himself hoping this is another miracle that his friend’s mere presence and stubbornness will help pull off.

 サスサク

The task is arduous and time consuming.

Sasuke is bizarrely conscious of the speed at which the time passes—too fast. They continue dragging survivors out from beneath the rubble—all unharmed, but looking more and more shambled as the rescue efforts reach deeper into the rubble. Every so often, there is a red glow, and the unearth another person being Naruto has managed to sense and enfold in his healing chakra cloak.

Sasuke uses his snake summons for the first time in years, sending them from his sleeve to slither around and crush rocks blocking their path. He digs one-handed while Naruto and the clones make quick work of their chosen debris fields.

They have yet to find Sakura, or a person that as died of their injuries; all of them so far have had a miniature clone of Lady Katsuyu attached somewhere on their bodies.

Yet he can’t sense Sakura.

“Her chakra signature is everywhere,” he frets. “She’s channelling it through Katsuyu to keep everyone alone. I can’t get a proper read on her.”

“And you won’t,” Lady Katsuyu says in a tremulous tone. “The byakugou has disengaged—her strength has finally run out.” She shudders. “We’re too far away. There’s no way we’ll make it to her in time. And I can only linger here a few minutes longer without her sustaining me.”

“We’ll make it!” Naruto growls, tone and eyes harsh like that of a cornered fox. There’s a panic there, belying his words, because he clearly has no idea how they’re going to do that.

It’s that panic more than anything so far that makes Sasuke’s guts roil and a sickening nausea of fear well up within him. Because Naruto never gives up, he always has hope and he always has some kind of harebrained plan to fix a bad situation.

And if he doesn’t have one in this case, it means Sakura’s fate is sealed.

Which—

No.

“You have a clone with Sakura now?” he asks Katsuyu.

“O-of course,” the snail replies, almost surprised at being addressed so directly.

“You can share your chakra between one another. Can you share the chakra of someone else the same way?”

Naruto’s eyes widen as he catches on. “Yes! If I share my chakra with you and your clone, I’ll able to sense where your clone is and we can find Sakura faster.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Lady Satsuyu replies mournfully. “And besides, I can’t share your chakra, Naruto-kun. The chakra of biju is too volatile, and unless a blood contract has been made, like yours with the toads, it would become too volatile.”

“You wouldn’t need a contract with me,” Sasuke says. “My chakra is entirely my own.”

The slug’s head bobs to one side in consideration, and then she makes a noise of assent. “We can try.”

Sasuke holds out his hand, allowing Lady Katsuyu to inch closer, pressing herself up against his palm. There’s a beat of tense silence as they both concentrate, Sasuke infusing a burst of chakra in the tiny creature’s body.

She shudders from the force of it, her energy signature changing to a mixture of her own and his.

“It’s done,” she says, and he can feel a tiny twinge in his senses calling from far beneath the crumbled mountain.

Sasuke nods and begins to back away from the rubble. “Get beneath her.”

“I don’t understand,” Ando is saying. “How will that be any different from before? Lady Katsuyu was already able to direct us to Sakura.”

“He’s not just looking for Sakura’s location,” Naruto says with a grim smile. “He needs to know exactly where she is.”

“But why—?”

Sasuke tunes out the useless questions as he positions himself somewhere with a decent amount of clearance all around him. Bracing himself—he’s never tried this particular gambit before—he activates the Sharingan and reaches deep within his chakra reserves.

Instantly, violent purple energy manifests, bones and muscle and armor, as Susanoo encompasses him all around. The burning, ripping pain of it has almost become distant by now, and he focusses past it, still holding onto that shred of his chakra beckoning him from wherever Sakura is.

He turns his head, concentrating on the space in front of Susanoo’s empty right hand and activates the Rinnegan.

A portal twists into being from thin air, and Sasuke hardly waits before raising Susanoo’s hand and pressing the limb through the portal. He can distantly feel the weight of her against the flat of the hand as it materializes directly beneath her body, and then pulls her backward, shutting the portal immediately after extracting her to ensure none of the rubble baring down on her might follow.

As gentle as he can, Sasuke lays Sakura down upon the ground, Susanoo vanishing as her body touches the earth.

サスサク

Everyone is already kneeling around her when Sasuke touches back down, the chakra giant vanishing once more. Lady Katsuyu vanishes, no longer having Sakura’s strength to draw on, and Naruto is snapping something at Ando, probably to get help.

All of it washes over Sasuke in a meaningless, soundless wave as his eyes fall upon Sakura. His lungs tighten as he takes in her broken body.

Her legs are bruised and battered, crushed inward in some places and bones poking out of other places; it’s the same for her hips and several ribs. Her eyes are open and staring, a trail of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth and nose.

The sight is terrifying.

For a short yet eternal moment he is back in the streets of the Uchiha district, surrounded by the bodies of his family. Just as he was then, he is frozen now—inutile and incapable of doing anything.

“Naruto…” he begins, not knowing exactly what he’s trying to ask.

“This is bad,” Naruto says, voice strained. His eyes are slits once more, his sage mode active as a red film covers Sakura’s body. “I can heal the big stuff, but so much has been pulverized…” He swallows as if in physical pain; Sasuke knows the feeling. “She needs someone that can do surgery at the microlevel. If I heal her right now, like this, I could do a lot more harm then good.”

It’s a measure of how far Naruto’s come that he recognizes this, that he knows not to simply ram through his power and hope it helps.

Sasuke doesn’t know what will help now.

Scenarios and plans speed through a mind more suited for battle tactics than life-saving measures, as he tries to think of any way that he can help her and wishing for the first time in a long time that Karin were here.

Wishing he had ever taken the time to learn more about the healing arts than how to kill.

All the while, the sight of Sakura’s shattered limbs taunting him as her blood seeps into the sand.

Sasuke blinks.

Sand.

The memory hits him out of nowhere, the way many of his recollections from before do. Waking in a hospital, distantly hearing people talking about a fight—sand versus strength.

“Tsunade,” Sasuke says, remembering how the Fifth Hokage dealt with something similar. Right around the time she healed his mind from Itachi’s merciless assault on it, she saved Rock Lee from a life of paralysis.

Naruto is frowning, once again on the same wavelength as him. “No one knows where she is.”

“I’ll find her. Get Sakura back to Konoha—”

“No…”

Both of them jump at the pained, feeble voice and glance down.

Sakura’s eyes are closed now, clenched as tight as her jaw when she speaks through gritted teeth. “There are still…people…” She tries to raise a hand, gesture toward the rubble. “Naruto…stay and…help…”

“Sakura, no!” he snaps. “You’re in a mess right now, I need to keep you going until—”

“…Too much…damage…wasting your…chakra…”

“Sakura,” Sasuke says tersely, and her eyes shoot open toward him. Awareness flickers behind green irises, along with some surprise, as if she didn’t realize or expect him to be there.

“Sasu…ke…”

He shivers.

There has never been a time in his life when he and Sakura haven’t been aware of the presence of the other. The fact she didn’t notice him is telling in the severity of her injury…as is her not expecting him to be by her side.

After all, when has he ever been?

What has he ever done for her?

“We have to get her out of here,” Naruto says. “Do you have enough strength for another portal?”

Sasuke nods, though he isn’t sure; he’s used his abilities twice now in quick succession. But for Sakura, he’ll try.

The space beside them rips open, once more opening onto the familiar rooftops of Konoha as seen from Hokage Tower. All they need to do is step through, and so Naruto goes to pick Sakura up, only for her to scream in sudden sharp agony.

Sasuke’s heart stutters, his concentration wavering slightly, allowing the portal to shrink and contract worryingly.

“She’s too hurt,” Naruto says, panicked. “We need to keep her on her back or…I might sever something important.”

There are no stretchers here, no immobilizing aids to move her. If he had any idea where Tsunade Senju was, he’d seek her out and return her here instantly, but he doesn’t have that time and neither does Sakura.

“I’ll bring her,” Sasuke says.

“But—”

“You stay here. Help the survivors.”

There’s something on his face that keeps Naruto from arguing further, but Sasuke is no longer paying attention. Once again, he centers himself, trying to divide his power between the portal and call up Susanoo in just the right manner.

It takes searing concentration to manifest Susanoo’s hand in the space between Sakura’s body and the ground, letting the chakra fill in beneath her and keep her steady and supine.

Sakura’s eyes are wide, trained on him in something like desperation, before they roll back and she lapses into unconsciousness.

Sasuke’s lungs constrict, but he forces himself to work through it, to slide Susanoo’s hand straight through the portal until Sakura is no longer lying among the debris of the dead but in the safety of their village.

Sweat breaks out across his forehead and the back of his neck, and he tastes blood in his mouth, but he manages to retract the chakra within him. He’s about to step through when—

“Wait!”

He grits his teeth, eyes darting back to the kid—Ando—who has returned.

“Let me come too,” he says. “I can keep her stable, or—or go get someone from the hospital, or—”

“Go!” Sasuke snarls, half from effort and half from irritation the boy is taking up valuable seconds.

A terrified expression breaks over Ando’s face for a moment, before he throws himself headlong through the portal.

“Find Tsunade,” Sasuke tells Naruto as he follows. He doesn’t have to hear the response to know he will.

サスサク

He has no right to be here.

The intensive care wing of Konoha’s hospital is a flurry of movement as doctors and nurses and medic-nin rush in and out of the surgery where they are working on Sakura. He lingers outside the doors, his own self-recrimination keeping him out here more than the ‘Staff Only’ sign on the door.

He doesn’t deserve to be here, to hear news of her condition. He left—he’s always leaving—and she’s always waiting. She’s always here and he realizes with a sudden disbelief that somehow, somewhere along the line something in him has taken that for granted.

Ever since the War, ever since watching her blossom into her abilities and to demonstrate power that makes her neigh indestructible, he’s been thinking of her as if she is. As if she’s a constant that will never change, that will always exist.

Like she’s immortal.

Except she’s not, she can die like anyone else.

It’s something taken for granted in their line of work, but medic-nin die the same as anyone else in the service. And Sakura would be the first to insist she is no more important than anyone else, that her life is the same value as any of their comrades. He knows if given the choice she’d sacrifice that same life without any regret—hell, he watched her try to do just that today.

That knowledge—and the reality of what is happening behind that door in front of him, the image of the light in her eyes dying—steals his breath.

Will that be his last memory of her? A broken body pulled from a wreckage?

Very real terror grips him then, something he hasn’t felt in years. A close, clawing sensation and his lungs constricting as something jagged forms in his throat. Nightmares of blood in the streets, blood in his hands and the rush of a waterfall in the background, the chirping of lightning in his ears—

“Sasuke.”

His head jerks up, the world around him returning, senses no longer going haywire to stave off the incoming panic.

Kakashi is standing beside him—when did he get here?—eyes somber. There’s a beat before he reaches out, hesitant, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

It’s as if a current is going through him, memories from long ago, that same hand on his shoulder. It’s the first time Kakashi has reached out to him since he left Konoha as a child.

“I’ve had news from Naruto,” his former instructor continues. “He’s found Tsunade.”

And somehow with those three words, every bit of tension in Sasuke’s body evaporates. He realizes he hasn’t been breathing and tries his best not to gulp for air, forces himself to inhale slowly through his nose, to not lose his composure.

Kakashi, of course, is not fooled. “Sakura will be alright. She’s strong.”

Sasuke wants to reply that he knows, he’s always known, but his tongue is still frozen. Instead, he returns his gaze upon the door, trying to sense what is happening beyond it.

He feels Kakashi remove his hand, but the man’s intense stare remains on him.

“I should go,” he eventually manages to say. Yet his legs refuse to move.

“You should stay. You’re exactly where you need to be.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re exactly where she needs you to be.”

Sasuke’s protest dies before it was truly born, and he goes back to trying to breath. Inhale and hold; exhale and repeat. It doesn’t matter what he needs or wants, after all.

Why?

Sakura is Sakura. Yes, they have always had a connection, a bond, but it’s the same connection he’s had with the rest of his former squad. You can’t go on missions or into battle with one another without developing a synchronicity. Even if the connections are different.

With Kakashi it’s the kindred spirit of someone who has lost everything almost the same as he has, with Naruto it’s a bond that can never be replicated for the most complicated of cosmic reasons.

And yet…with Sakura, there’s something different there.

He always thought it was nostalgia, the last lingering remnants of a weak child desperate for whatever scrap of affection was offered to him after losing his parents. Every moment he’s ever spent with her, he pretended like it didn’t affect him at all; and yet, there was always that eagerness he had to tamp down, wanting to see the smile on her face because he knew he didn’t deserve it.

A smile he missed in the years training with Orochimaru, then wandering the world in penance. He knows she’s had feelings for him since they were children, and has has spent most of his last years hoping against hope that she’ll let him go and move on.

That she’ll find someone else, someone worthy of her, someone who will keep her safe and guard her heart against pain. Because that’s all he can give her is pain; tht, and a soul that will never completely heal.

Except it wont matter, will it, if she dies?

She’ll be gone, and he’ll be empty again. No matter where he goes, he’s always known that somewhere, Sakura is out there, keeping him in her heart. He knows that even if she does find another, there will always be a part of her that thinks of him, just like he will always have a part of him that thinks of her.

But if she dies…if she doesn’t make it through this…

Suddenly he can see it.

Years stretch out in front of him, bleak and empty and gray. Visits to a gravestone of a life that could have been. Regrets and pain and an endless void of existing instead of living.

More of everything he endured as a child, only this time, without the tiny ray of sunlight that Sakura willingly gave him.

And suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t want that.

A world without Sakura in it, is not one that he wants to be a part of.

He wants her—needs her—to be happy. And if her happiness is him…if he could ensure that happiness somehow…

Well, he’ll do whatever it takes.

Sasuke takes a shuddering breath at the realization.

It feels sudden, like a switch has been flipped with realization, and yet at the same time he knows it has always been this way.  

He’s in love with Sakura.

The world returns then in sharp focus, ignorant to the realizations he’s just made. Kakashi is still eyeing him with concern. Perhaps wondering if he’s going to have to talk him out of leaving the hospital, even though Sasuke knows that he’s not going anywhere until he can watch her open her eyes again.

Until she smiles at him again.

Maybe not even then.

“I’ll wait for her then,” he says, shaken but still somehow managing to control the timbre of his voice. He leans against the wall, eyes once more resting on the door in expectation.

I’ll wait for her forever.

終わり

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

栗

[artificial-ascension]

Wammys Week Day 5: ON TIME FINALLLYYYY!!!!

So here’s a story about Matt and Mello being cool detectives in the underground, some hints at some NSFW things but nothing graphic, just saying that stuff happened. It’s kinda long.

Mello stormed into his apartment and kicked a wall as hard as he could, breaking it. “Who was it today Mels?” Matt asked, not looking away from his screen.

“Fucking Jacob Flint, the bastard keeps fucking us over!” Mello said, running his hands through his hair.

“Oh shit, what’d he do today?” 

“The fucking bastard decided to cut his shipment to AK, he delayed it for TWO WEEKS, how the hell am I supposed to get bullets for The Exorcist when he doesn't fucking cooperate or do normal business practices? I swear it’s literally only me this has been happening too.” Mello said, grabbing a can of pink lemonade from the fridge, “I’m going to have to use my regular gun now…” He cracked it open and took a sip, “Also, we have a gathering coming up.” 

“Oh, we do? Where?” Matt asked.

“Prince’s Villa, up on the cliff, you know, the one.” Mello said sitting on the couch and taking a bite of chocolate.

“Oh, I love Prince’s gatherings! His wife, Carmela, right? Yeah, she gives me candy and calls me handsome.” 

“Yeah, but I hear Dante and Jess have beef again so everyone’s in an uproar, so I might have a new case soon.”

“Anyone's game I guess.” Matt said. He always said that Mello would have a case soon but didn’t know who would be hiring him.

--------------------

Matt and Mello were driving to work the following morning, on their usual route to stop at Dunkin’ Doughnuts. They said hi to all their usual friends, some kids who liked to play online with Matt, an old man that liked to talk about guns with Mello, a girl that was friends with B, ECT. The two popped into the packed restaurant, one of the workers and a few regulars said hi to them. They ordered and got their food, sat down at a table and watched the news. Nothing new, just some murders, Mello chucked at most of them, he knew the culprits of most, some Jack the Ripper fan boy who used the alias Jack, it was obvious just by looking. They were eating when an old friend came in and tapped them on the shoulder, “You hear the news?”

“Hey, Chase, long time no see, what’s up?” Mello said.

“Couple of Flint’s guys got killed the other day.” Chase said, pulling up a chair.

“Is that why the bastard didn’t give AK our bullet shipment?” Mello.

“I don’t know. Hey I thought it was because of that that they died.He’s been fucking you guys over al ot hasn’t he?” 

“I know right? It started before the feud we just had, fucker might be turning in me or something. It’s bullshit, I just want to use my gun.” Mello said.

“Tch, yeah, tell Ross I said hi by the way, I got places to be, I’ll catch you later crow boy.” Chase walked out the door and sped off in his car.

Mello sighed, he hoped he wouldn’t have to investigate this, it might end up with him in Jess’ part of town, god was that guy an ass.

----------------------

He and Matt were chilling in the hideout, he was honestly waiting for III Rat to come in and tell him he had a client, but nothing happened. Pretty average day really. Not to say they didn’t discuss the murders. Mello had a pretty good hunch as to what happened. Jess and Dante got mad at each other, Jess goes and kills guys for one of Dante’s biggest contributors to her literal black market, Dante gets mad customers and drama and there goes her business again. That was usually the case when this happened. Not to say Mello didn’t have to investigate, and he really hated Jess.

-----------------

The following day, Mello and Matt went through their routine, but when they got to base, they had a surprise guest. Prince. 

“Oh, well hey Prince, what brings you here?” Mello asked

“Mello, so glad to see you, there’s an issue I’d like to talk about with you.” Prince said. Price was an elderly man, very kind and respected in the underground, he didn’t have any enemies, not sense his enemies went and started a feud that sent all of the underground spiraling into madness that is, so Mello was unsure of what the issue could be here.

Mello sat down, “What is it?”

“Well, you see, I asked Jacob Flint to give me some bullets if I helped him with trafficking some special bullets.” Mello perked up, “But after words some of his men were killed.”

“I was aware. If you’re asking who did that, I suspected Jess.” Mello said.

“No, Jess and Queeny were out of town that day and his other lackey, I can’t remember his name, was out slaughtering prostitutes again, but I don’t need you to investigate there, that’s none of my business.” Prince said, “It’s about the other murder.”

Mello tilted his head, “There was another?” He asked.

Prince looked shocked for a second, “Yes… there was another murder. A friend of mine who was supposed to be meeting with Vince was poisoned.”

“Poisoned? Who was he?” Mello tilted his head.

“He was a small time guy, did deals and acted as a stand in for big bosses. He was pretty unknown, he wasn’t even from LA. So he wouldn’t have any enemies here.” Prince said.

“So if I’m following this right, you and Vince were having a meeting but rather than come yourself you sent a man with no enemies here to deal for you but the day before this deal he was killed? And with poison no less? Can I have details about his death, where and when?” Mello asked.

“He was at his hotel, having a drink, someone must have poisoned it I assume.” Prince said. “And I was wondering if you could find out who did it.”

“Poison… that almost always means assassination… but by who…” Mello was thinking hard about this. “I wonder… maybe someone had a grudge against Vince? That’s likely… I’ll have to investigate more…” Mello stood up and grabbed his coat. “I’ll have it done by the gathering this Saturday.” 

“Thank you Mello… will your friend be coming too?” Prince asked.

“Who, Matt, yes of course, he loves your gatherings, Carmela gives him candy and food is his only reason to leave the house.” Mello laughed along with Prince. Then left to join Matt in the car. 

------------------------------

Mello and Matt were parked in a clearing overlooking LA. The place was secluded and they couldn’t be seen or heard. From their place Matt, being incredibly far sighted, could see Prince’s Vila a few miles away. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

Matt put his goggles back on and turned to Mello, “Mello, why are we up here? I thought we were gonna have some fun… not sit around looking at some old man’s summer house.” Matt wined.

“Matt, what do Vince and Jacob Flint sell?” Mello asked.

“Vince sells explosives and Flint sells bullets. Why?”

“Why would Prince be buying from Vince, and at a time like this? We just had a feud, this is a time of peace? It doesn't make sense for him to need explosives like that, bullets I can understand, we’re all running low, but explosives? No, it doesn't.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned against the car and lit a cigarette, “That is weird, and thanks to our feud, Prince got rid of all his enemies, why bullets? And why would Flint be asking Prince to help him? He’s had no issue before getting his stuff out. There’s no reason for the delay unless…” Matt paused.

“What is it Matty?” 

“Why would he just… delay a shipment like that? Especially to AK? No one delays shipments to AK without a reason, and even if Flint has a habit of putting off shipping for a day or two, two weeks has to be a record. I think the delay was on purpose and was the work of Prince.” 

“What!?! That doesn't make any sense!” Mello said.

“No, hear me out, the main contenders in the last feud will be at this gathering, and in the last feud, Prince nearly got whipped out and we did nothing until his enemies got on our bad side. What if he’s planning on blowing the place up and this is his way of saying, “Guess you shouldn’t have been so selfish?”

Mello looked down for a bit. “What does that have to do with bullets?”

“We all saw your little display of power when you, in front of everyone, blew a man's head off with the Exorcist from 50 feet away. He’s afraid of power. That’s why he delayed the bullets.”

“But why would he… why tell me about that death then? That would tell me something is up?” 

“A distraction, if you’re working on a hard case then you won’t question any weird moves he makes. People here are more afraid of your mind than your gun. So what if he killed this guy to give you a tough case? Then killed some of Flint’s guys, to give you some stress. It adds up.”

“Yes, but It’s still shaky Matt,” Mello sighed “What’s today?

“Friday.” Matt said.

“We won’t be going to that gathering. Not until I get this straightened out.” Mello stood up and paced, talking out loud as he did, “His actions make no sense… why would he give me hints like that… why would he do anything… I wouldn’t have known any way… unless he thought… no what if he’s being sincere and I’m over thinking…

“Mello.” Matt said. Mello looked up, “Who’s his informant?” Matt asked.

“An Usaki Yakuza member, why?” Mello asked.

“All the Usaki kids went back to Japan for the week, remember? He doesn't have information, so he must have assumed you were aware of the murder because he doesn't know that our informant is also an Usaki. He was trying to throw you off by telling you the odd circumstances of and asking you to investigate the death of a man who was working an extremely shady job that he thought you were already suspicious of.”

“So he was trying to make me question a death and not his actions, but what he didn’t know, it that I didn’t know about the death or his actions at all.” Mello found himself marveling at Matt’s deductive ability. How he didn’t end up number one was beyond him.

“And I bet he caused the deaths of those other guys to cover up him trying to delay that shipment on purpose. Chase said it happened a few days ago right?” Matt said.

“But then why would he tell me Jess and his gang of serial killing dumb fucks left LA?”

“He does business in that part of town right? There’s a likelihood that he was trying to keep Jess and his gang's reputation and keep him on your good side.” Matt said.

Mello stood up. He needed to share he and Matt’s deductions with Ross. “Come on Matt, we’re heading back to base.”

--------------------------------------------

Mello stormed in, “ROSS! We made a discovery!”

Ross looked up at him, “What is it?”

“I think Prince is planning on killing us at his gathering.”

“What! Where did you go off thinking that?” Ross asked him.

Mello explained his thinking to Ross and the gang. By the end, Ross was pretty convinced, Mello was never wrong before after all. Mello left out the bit where Matt had come up with the theory. Which may sound rude, but to almost everyone, Matt is just an assistant that does Mello’s bidding and is very replaceable, and not a good portion of the skill and intelligence out of the two of them. It was a protective measure, making it look like Matt is just a replaceable accessory with no value so that no one would try to hurt him to get to Mello. And Matt was ok with that, he didn’t really care.

“So should I tell everyone else or…?” Ross asked.

“Sounds like the best course of action, either way, I’m not going.” Mello said.

“And if you’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong.”

“Ok then Mello…”

Ross told Mello’s theory to everyone he could think of, and made sure the rumor spread like wildfire, even getting some confirmation from Vince saying that Prince had purchased a large amount of explosives. When the day came, what do you know, the dumb fucks that didn’t listen to Mello’s theory got blown to bits, he was right yet again. 

Mello and Matt sat up on their little spot, chilling on the hood of Matt’s car, shirtless, having a couple's moment and watching a Prince’s villa blow up. Matt was smoking a cigarette. Mello was laying up against Matt’s left side, laying on his chest with his hand feeling the muscles in Matt’s right arm. 

“Matty, why do some people never listen.”

Matt put his arm around Mello, “Don’t know Mels.” 

Mello sighed and kissed Matt on the forehead, “Another case solved by M&M…”

“Mello, can we have some fun?” Matt gave him puppy dog eyes this time.

“Fine, since you’re so fucking cute…” 

And so they fucked. The end. No moral. Nothing at all. Just Matt and Mello doing stuff and being cool detective boyfriends.

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

Each year in the village, we get a harvest of things nobody ever asked for. The villagers all gather on the mound that overlooks the only field we have. It'll be a spring morning, and the sun will still be a bruised pink between the mountains, and the field will have everything we never wanted.

I always walk first towards the field, and I'm careful with my step down the slippery mud and red pebbles. A stick would help—I've always wanted a stick anyway. I've always asked Dad to buy one when he goes to the city, but he just scoffs.

"Lakshmi". That's what the note said. It was sitting next to a jar full of almonds. There was nothing on the jar itself, not even a speck of stuck paper to show that there was once a label on it.

By then, the other villagers are in the field, searching for the unwanted thing with their name next to it. Many of them are delighted, like Suraj and his transistor radio (batteries included). Some are frustrated, like Paridhi and her broken plank of wood. Me? I'm just eating the almonds I didn't want.

The real problems start when someone gets the thing that someone else wanted. Vilas wanted a bicycle really badly. Kunti got a bicycle, a really girl one, the kind with a basket out front. Vilas never really liked girls, so he doesn't ask Kunti for his bicycle. He demands it.

I watch them come to blows. The villagers are too busy with their own things, so the fight isn't broken up until later, when their parents show up. By then, the sun's bruises have made their way to Kunti and Vilas' faces and bodies. The bicycle lies in the mud.

But they're kids. The adults are more mature with how they resolve disputes. Some of them bring large knives straight to the harvest. They never use the knives, but that's only because they don't have to.

Of course, Paridhi doesn't have to worry about the knives. All she's got is a fucking plank of wood, and it's not even intact.

In the evening, we return to the village. We make supper by the fire, and we share stories about what we really wanted that year.

We play a game, too. We take turns in a circle to say what we want for the next harvest. It's a game, because you have to do your best to not think of the thing you really want. It's not as easy as it sounds. A few glasses of liquor down, everyone's spilling how they want bars of gold, expensive televisions, a car or a motorcycle.

A few more glasses down, and then we go beyond even that. "A girlfriend," Suraj answers, and we laugh.

"I look forward to meeting your boyfriend next year," Nitika says, and we laugh harder.

"Hey, you said it, not me," Suraj points at her.

Paridhi is the only one who isn't laughing. She's drinking alone. Next to her sit her two pieces of broken wood. She hates them, but she'll guard them with her life.

[bekaroth-reads]

Herobrine x Reader 3

Herobrine lead you from the little tunnel that the two of you had taken shelter in the night before and was leading you... somewhere. You honestly had no idea where the two of you were headed, but by this point you were fairly certain that you could trust him; and, with your house gone it wasn’t like you had anywhere else to go. “Vi är nästan där.” He mumbled almost to himself rather then to you. You still had no idea what he was saying, but hoped that  it wasn’t anything bad.

After the two of you walked a bit farther, you saw a pillager tower a bit ahead. It was far enough away though that if the two of you didn’t get too close then whoever was in there probably wouldn’t notice. Right as the thought crossed your mind he started to head right towards the foreboding structure. You stopped him suddenly but grabbing onto his hand. “Woah, we can’t go over there! We could get robbed, or worse, killed!” “Vad? Vad händer du om?” He was obviously wasn’t getting what you were trying to tell him. Not knowing how else to let him know what you were thinking you just made a grand, and slightly panicked gesture towards the tower. Herobrine squinted at you as he tried his best to piece together your message.

“Åh det? Oroa dig inte. Det har övergivits ett tag.” He announced confidently as he continued in his direction. Herobrine did stop, however when he noticed when you weren’t following in suit. “Tja, kom igen. Vi måste komma till tornet innan det är natt igen.” He motioned for you to follow. You simply shook your head no, and he seemed like he understood. “Bra, jag tvingar dig inte. Du är mer än välkommen att stanna ute med spindlarna.” You gave him a confused look. When were the two of you going to remember that you weren’t speaking that same language? He chuckled and walked over to you, and went behind you. “Du vet; spindlar ~“ he crawled his hand up your back when he said the last word. This caused you to shiver, and him to laugh. As much as you hated his teasing at least you knew through the context clues that he was most likely talking about spiders.

You didn’t want to admit it, but where ever it was that he was taking you was probably a more safe then trying to hold up in the wild, especially since the sin would start to set in about a few hours or so. “Fine...” you huffed as you started to walk again. Herobrine just laughed. “Jag visste att du skulle gå! Oroa dig inte. Det kommer bli bra.” When he got close to you, he suddenly picked you up and started to carry you; the sudden nature of the action caused you to squeak in surprise. “Vi kan gå snabbare på det här sättet.” He told you as he started to move almost impossibly fast. You wouldn’t call it walking or running as he almost didn’t seem to be moving his body, but based on how the scenery rushed past you you were going extremely fast. Was he always able to move this fast? Was he just walking earlier so that you could keep pace with him?

When the two of you got to the pillager tower a few minutes later you felt pretty light headed. He tried to sit you down, but your legs were too wobbly to stand. He caught you quickly and helped to stand back up. “Var försiktig där. Åtminstone kräkade du inte; det var en möjlighet.” He sighed in relief. You tried to take a step, but had about as much grace as a baby giraffe. Herobrine caught you again. At this point he just decided to pick you up again. “Bär du igen, är jag? Tja, antar jag att jag bara har mig att skylla på det här.”

Eventually the two of you got to to an area that was fixed up a little bit. He must have been staying here for awhile based on the facts that not only did this place look somewhat taken care of but also that there were no pillagers to be found here. He sat you down on a bed and walked over to a nearby shelf.  “Du är välkommen till någonting här. Vi ska stanna här för natten, men gå till biblioteket som ligger i närheten av imorgon. Det kan finnas något där som kan hjälpa oss att prata med varandra.” He handed a you some cooked meat that he apparently had prepared beforehand, and all you knew to do was thank him.

Glowing eyes looked at you for a moment through strands of brunette hair before he knelt down to look at you more directly. “ Du vet, jag tycker att du ser ganska vacker ut. Skulle du tänka om jag gav dig en kyss?” You weren’t totally sure what he just asked, but the last word sounded suspiciously like, “kiss.” You mumbled, to yourself for a moment, doubting that he would actually be asking for a kiss and that you just misheard him. That is until he pointed at his lips and repeated, “Kyss.” “I, uh- I mean-” Before you could finish he laughed, and gently kissed your forehead. “Få vila i kväll. Vi har lite att gå på morgonen.” He said as he walked away, his face as red as yours because he surprised himself with his boldness as much as he surprised you.

[villavineyards]

too good to be good for me

: what’s up guys so uh here’s my first ever noah thing because i think it’d be fun to branch out a lil :P nothing too intense here just some casual declarations of love lol

-you brooded, watching noah and hope sit next to each other as they chatted. you sighed, sinking further into the firepit seat as you sipped your violet man.

chelsea appeared, sitting next to you suddenly.

“babes! why aren’t you with lucas?” she asked ever-so cheerfully, making you give her a soft smile.

“felt like being alone tonight,” you mumbled, watching chelsea’s eyebrows furrow for a second before she hummed. “you don’t count, hun. best friends are always welcome.” you added quickly, watching a smile light up her face.

“thank you. although, i think i know why you’re really alone,” she drew the sentence out teasingly, casting her eyes over to noah’s direction briefly and then back to you. you flushed, nervously sipping your drink again.

“maybe. maybe not,” you said quietly, chelsea giggling afterwards. you laughed a little too, at yourself and the situation you found yourself in.

“you know, i was never one of those girls who liked other girls’ boyfriends, but after what rocco did, and when noah was the first one to comfort me about it and tell me it wasn’t my fault... i just.. saw him differently.

“and then i noticed how shaky his relationship with hope was. figured i could sneak my way in there, maybe turn his head. but hope just..” you trailed off, chelsea nodding every second.

“i get it. not really, but i understand. sometimes, the heart wants what it wants.” she said, and you sighed, appreciating her effort. “hey, what’s meant for you will find its way. i have a good feeling about you and noah.” chelsea said, and then stood up to refill her drink.

you stayed still, staring into your drink as you thought about the rest of your time in the vila. you don’t know when it happened, but you looked up to suddenly see noah standing before you.

“can we chat?” he asked, and you nodded slowly as you scooted over. he sighed as she sat down, and looked at you. “is everything okay?” you asked, finally looking him in the eye.

“yeah, yeah. i’m good. just, wanted to chat.” he said rigidly, making you chuckle slightly as you tried not to show how anxious you were. “well, let’s chat.” you mused, taking a long swig of your drink.

“i broke up with hope.”

you choked, spitting some of your drink out slightly as your face paled. “you what?” you asked, and he chuckled nervously. “a few minutes ago. i realized that.. i deserve better. better than someone who tries controlling who i talk to and where i am all the time.” he said seriously, and you nodded, setting down your drink.

“so you came here to talk to me?” you asked teasingly, watching a blush spread across his beautiful face. “there could never be anyone else,” he mumbled, and you suddenly realized how close you are.

“so, what are you thinking?” you asked, and he grinned at you before humming thoughtfully. “thinking we might have to wait a few days before we go official so hope doesn’t murder us in our sleep,” he whispered, making you giggle until you realized his face was getting closer.

before he went in for the kiss, he murmured “it’s always been you,” and kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, his arms wrapping around you to bring you closer.

as much as you wanted to deepen the kiss, you could feel the passion and hope behind this kiss, the joy in knowing that know you two can finally be together.

he kissed you so tenderly, as if this was a dream and he was afraid to wake up. you pulled away, and cradled his face in your hands. “just don’t make me wait forever,” you said teasingly, making him laugh loudly.

you both turned to the villa, and your face paled as you saw hope watching from the balcony.

you turned to noah again, and he was still smiling at you. you smiled back, and kissed him again, still smiling as it finally hit you that you’ve won.

hi :3 nothing new’s happened in my life lol but i hope this was okay! it was weird to write for noah and i will admit i did type bobby every now and then lolol anyways </3 only a few weeks left now you guys ))-:

edit as of october 2nd: okay so this was originally written like mid september and this did NOT age well at all jrkdksk let’s just pretend 😔

[littlegalerion]

Drama Piece

I’ve been wanting to write an updated version of this for a while!

Featuring @foxyhearts ‘ bosmer Malika, whom in many an AU is basically Trechire’s adopted daughter. 

How does one break the news that you fell in love with a Tharn? 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Zamarak said you wanted to see me? Urgently?” Malika laughed, sitting down across from her at the dining table.

Trechire composed herself, folding her hands neatly on the table before her. A pitcher of the sweetest Summerset tea was to her right, a small bowl of sugar to her left. In the distance, Hughe was still munching down on his breakfast, the Senche mount having already expressed he didn’t want to watch this disaster go down. So many servants had been sent in that morning to even set up the furnishings of Trechire’s new Rimmen home, the Hall of the Lunar Champion, but no amount of home comfort could set her at ease right now. She gazed across at the small bosmer woman, seated and kicking her legs, long ginger hair messy and bickering with her antlers. How many years had it been since Wrothgar, where they had first met, and now Malika had been always just a few steps away, a persistent shadow…

No, a daughter.

“You look refreshed,” Trechire observed, smiling weakly.

“I um, helped congratulate the queen’s first night of rule,” Malika smirked, and clicked her heels together a few times.

“Oh,” Trechire murmured. “So you and Khamira too? How does Ayrenn-”

“She’s cool,” Malika purred, shrugging. “They get me, what can I say?”

“Well…” Trechire cleared her throat, and fidgeted with the ring on her finger. “I have some news about last night too-”

“Wait!” Malika squeaked, and almost jumped onto the table. She pointed at the ring. “Is that a wedding ring?”

“Um, well, yes,” Trechire mumbled, and absent mindedly took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her cup of tea, mixing it roughly.

“Who, in the green, did you marry?” Malika exclaimed, baffled. “You weren’t dating anyone- WERE you dating someone, and I didn’t know? Who? Who?!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I hate it when you keep important stuff like this from me! As if I can’t keep a secret.”

“It isn’t that,” Trechire assured her. “But this marriage does need to be kept secret. We both wear our rings, but no one can know, save for a selective, secretive few. One of which is you, because yes, I do trust you with a secret. Of course I do.”

“So who is it?” Malika asked again, smile widening so that Trechire could see her sharpened canines.

Again, Trechire took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her tea, swirling it with an iron grip on the spoon.

“He should really be here to tell you himself,” Trechire went on, her tongue feeling dry. She really should have taken a sip of the tea, but she felt like if she stopped stirring it, her heart would stop completely. Maybe that was the better option, though? “He had to continue our dragon hunting further south, but he promised he’d portal back in tonight.” She found herself smiling for a moment, despite her nerves. “He never wants to sleep in a tent again, if he can help it, and he reasoned he may only be able to use his portals for who knows how much longer at his age-”

“Mum,” Malika blurted. Her eyebrows were raised, and a look of horror was creeping over her face. “...Who did you marry?”

Trechire cleared her throat once more, and stilled her hand as best as she could, but still the spoon gently rattled against the fragile cup. “I married Abnur,” she said, and now actually tried to drink some of the tea. This was a fortunate, because Malika slammed down her fists onto the table, shaking it so terribly that the pitcher of tea toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “Let me explain.”

“You had better!” Malika hissed, looking disgusted. “Just...just EW!”

“To you,” Trechire reasoned, not daring to place the cup back on the table. “But we had been...teasing, ever since the Hall of Colossus.”

Malika stiffened. “...What the hell happened those times you two split off in a different than me when we were tracking the information down?”

“We were tracking the information down,” Trechire huffed defensively. “You honestly think I’d get frisky in a dark and smelling dungeon? With Worm cultists nearby?”

“You married Abnur Tharn,” Malika laughed sarcastically, and beat a fist against the table again. “By that logic alone I wouldn’t be surprised if you got wild on a necromancer’s alter!”

“Alright, you’re overreacting far more than what I expected,” Trechire sighed, shaking her head while still holding up her tea. “Please, understand that this doesn’t need to be awkward...”

“After what he did to Ayrenn?” Malika argued. “How do you think she’ll react to all this?”

“I..was hoping you’d keep it a secret,” Trechire sniffed. “Like how you said you could keep secrets?”

“Sure, yeah, sure,” Malika cringed, throwing her hands up in the air as she now jumped from her seat and paced around in circles. “Sure, while I’m busy spending cuddle time with my big, golden honey, I will totally keep a clear head, and not think about how somewhere, all the way across the world, my Mum is busy doing the same, but with the guy who invented and perfected the definition of asshole.”

“He’s changed,” Trechire barked, scowling. “You should be glad for that! That, maybe, is one of the few things to come out of this war for the better!”

“Fine, then let him have his little redemption fit,” Malika seethed. “But not all over you!”

“This is pointless,” Trechire grumbled, and now sat down her cup. Malika huffed and ran back to rock the table, making the cup spin until it splashed all over Trechire, then rolling off the table and smashing to pieces. “Come on!” Trechire snapped, standing to try and pat the liquid off her. “Was that really a mature way to handle this?”

Malika climbed onto the table, eyes burning with fury. “I will spill cup after cup of tea on you. Whatever it takes until you divorce his ass!”

“No,” Trechire whispered back with a still, mocking tone. She rubbed her hands together, sparking some embers on her palms and then hoovering them over her robes to dry herself.

“You’re an altmer!” Malika cried, crawling closer. “Isn’t this a doomed marriage from the start? Just save yourself the pain!”

“I am an altmer,” Trechire replied, as if talking to a toddler. “Fantastic observation! This is why it remains a secret. What Nibenay doesn’t know won’t hurt them, nor his reputation, nor mine.”

“Some marriage that is!” Malika wheezed. “You’re both ashamed of each other!”

“Not ashamed,” Trechire corrected. “Protective. We had a long discussion about this last night when he surprised me with the rings. It’s rough for us on both ends- you think I’m telling my parents? Ayrenn? Ha, you think I’m even going to tell any of the other Companions, back from the days in Coldharbor, if we ever cross paths again? No way!” She shook the heat from her hands, having done the best she could to save her robes. “The only other people I planned on telling were Khamira, Vivec, and Val.”

“What about Tharn?” Malika persisted, kicking her toe tips against the table in an irritated rhythm. “Who’s he going to tell? Not his family, oh hell no. You do realize you won’t be in the will, nor even the documented records of his family tree?”

“Not at the moment,” Trechire hummed, now using magic to reassemble her cup, so as to clean the floor of any broken glass. “But we had documents written up last night with official Imperial regulations, eccentric, signed and stamped by Abnur and then signed by Calo-” Trechire held her head, the tea cup falling apart again as she broke focus. “Oh yes, he knows as well. We needed a witness, and I couldn’t find you, so we finally came to terms with hope he would remain a secret little mouse over all this. At any rate, our marriage is official, and legally binding. We stashed them back in my Vila on Artaeum.”

“And what exactly does that even mean?” Malika huffed. “Suddenly you’re a part of the family and entitled to all his stuff, if you flash them around? No one would believe that, as long as Abnur isn’t there to reinforce it.”

“We just wanted it official,” Trechire growled, mending the cup once more. “We never plan on showing those documents to anyone, even if children come about in our future.”

“Please…” Malika hiccuped, holding her stomach. “Let’s...let’s just not even discuss that. I know how you feel about vomiting, and as much as I wanna hit you with the broad side of my bow right now, I’m not that vengeful as to get sick… So just drop that before it’s out of my control.”

Trechire rolled her eyes. “I’m over two hundred and have never bore a child. It’s a possibility. I still have my fertility.”

“Seriously,” Malika coughed, holding her gut.

“Grow up,” Trechire snapped, and placed the cup on the table, now it being her turn to pace in irritation. “I knew you’d get upset, but I expected some sort of compromise, some sort of understanding. Some sort of maturity!”

“Well, I am being mature! Because this is messed up,” Malika argued, sitting back on the table, now tensed as she unleashed either the best reasoning ever or the worst possible thing to bring up to her. “Maybe your parents have a point. Maybe you’re just not right in the head anymore, and you really have gotten desperate!”

Growing still, Trechire turned back to her, eyes wide in shock. From the other side of the room, Hughe stopped chomping, and his eyes poked out from the shadows, glittering with unseen emotion as he watched.

“I...am not  losing my mind,” Trechire spat, not moving from her position. Her words were laced with venom now, shaking Malika a bit. She’d never seen the altmer this outraged. “Funny everyone keeps suggesting that, because honestly maybe that’s why I even noticed Abnur to begin with. From the get go, twenty years ago, he never sugar coated anything for me. No, he’s treated me like the Champion of Vivec, the Vestige, like a capable mage who’s successfully thwarted daedric scheme after daedric scheme, who’s earned the respect of such titles! Yes, I’ve lost...a few loves in my time, and many, many friends…” She was trembling. “But I’m not losing my mind.”

Suddenly Malika felt a stab of guilt for even bringing it up. She remembered Vanus and Caafire’s lectures to their daughter, which they had ambushed her with for months, after the death of Laloriaran, and the final jab at Molag Bal. Not scolding, but the constant peppering and sweet talking of how “it’s alright to be sad” and “take all the time you need to grieve, nobody is judging you.” But then Malika recalled the stories Ayrenn had told her, about her time in custody within Cryodiil, under Abnur Tharn’s mercy.

“Fine,” Malika mumbled, and slowly slid off the table. “You’re not crazy, and neither am I, so I won’t tell Ayrenn.” She shrugged, looking at Trechire numbly. “But I’m not having any part of it. I won’t stop talking to you, you’re my Mum, but he’s nothing to me, and that’s how it is. Forever. Okay?”

“Okay,” Trechire replied in the same numb tone.

Malika threw a look at Hughe, and turned, walking towards the door. Neither mer called out to the other, and both shook as the door opened and slammed shut, leaving their minds to a cold, cruel silence.