#WE ALREADY TRIED TO TELL HIM SO MANY TIMES

[ladiesworldsblog]

I nodded silently, my cock tried to get hard, but she locked it and reminded me, that it’s her privilege afterwards to release me.

I lost sight of her during the party several times, but as she appeared again, she had that lovely sexy smile, that special glow on her face - and I instantly knew where this was coming from.

It was a great party and I really enjoyed to see some of my friends again, there aren’t too many chances as some of them live far away from our place.

As he last guest left our house, I looked around to search for my wife, I heard her calling me to the bedroom. She made herself feel comfy on our bed, had taken her shoes off and gave me a daring peek on her pussy. She was so swollen red and slimy, I discovered lots of dried cum on her cunt.

My slutty wife had fun for sure. She spread her legs for me and I could see, that cum was oozing out of her pussy. I knew what she expected from me. I crawled onto our bed between her legs and started to kiss and lick her sensitive area.

She started to tell me, that she has snacked some of my friends and she reminded me, that obviously everyone of them has so much more to offer in size, thickness, technique and stamina compared to me. And she let them cum inside of her.

She undressed her blouse to let me see her beautiful boobs, while I was eating her out like a hungry wolf. Obviously I did it right, she was getting close and finally she came so hard and had her contractions, he toe curled and she gave me her lovely O-face.

She needed to calm down a minute or two and told me to get rid of my clothes, she’s ready to give me her birthday gift now and she showed me the key. I had hoped for a release tonight, but of course I didn’t dared to ask or beg for it, otherwise I would have risked to ruin my chance.

We snuggled and cuddled while she unlocked me, I still had sperm on my lips and in my face and she kissed me passionately to get a taste of cum, she loves the taste. She rolled on her back and let me mount her, my cock was hard and she helped me to get it into her well used pussy.

She usually doesn’t like the missionary position - at least not with me, she did it as a favor for me. And I enjoyed it, much more than she did. Her silky and sloppy cunt felt so fucking great, it has been a while for me, since she gave me that pleasure.

While I was slowly fucking her and she faked some moans to give me an impression that I‘m making something right, she started to tell me the names of our guests, who had the same pleasure before. She already had told me four names as she made a pause and I thought this would be it. But she pulled me close and whispered a fifth name in my ear.

I was shocked and looked deep into her lustful eyes, I couldn’t believe it, but she just nodded and I pulled out and jerked my cock until I sprayed her whole body with my juice. She gave me a winning smile and instantly locked me up again.

Of course, I licked her clean and enjoyed the taste of my hot sperm and inhaled the scent of sex from her lovely body. She didn’t told me the name of another friend, it was my dad’s name. He always had an eye on her and I remember that I‘d seen him flirting with her today, but I never imagined that she‘ll let him have her. I was so wrong.

She told me that she can’t believe that I‘m his son as he’s quite hung and knows how to fuck a woman and make her cum on his cock. She cuddled and kissed me, telling me to get some sleep now. And as my mind was already spinning, thinking about my old man having fun with my wife, she added that he invited us for dinner the next day. And I felt how my cock was trying hard to escape its prison, but I won’t get lucky again soon.

[sabrinasopposite]

imperfect for you.

pt. 3 of drinks or coffee / college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

my boy, come take my hand throw your guitar and your clothes in the back seat my love, they don't understand but I'll hold your hurt in the box here beside me

summary: after months of dating, its time for y/n to meet the baker family. yet charlie is a bit scared that y/n will see the chaotic, dozen of people in one house. will she still love him even though he was living in a imperfect home? of course she will.

Winter wraps itself around New York, weaving frost over windows and tucking laughter into scarves. The city glows—streetlights pooling golden halos onto rain-slicked sidewalks, store windows dressed in garlands and ribbons, the hum of holiday music slipping through every doorway. Y/N stands at the threshold of something new, something unfamiliar yet warm, as Charlie laces his fingers through hers and says, “Come home with me for Christmas.”

She hesitates, but only for a breath. Home. The word tastes like cinnamon and wood smoke when he says it.

So, she goes.

Charlie’s family is chaos incarnate.

The front door barely swings open before he is ambushed—small bodies colliding into him, voices overlapping, warmth pressing in from every direction. The house is alive, a living, breathing thing pulsing with energy, tangled in fairy lights and the scent of home-cooked meals. 

Y/N watches, wide-eyed, as one of his younger siblings nearly topples a Christmas tree in an attempt to tackle Charlie, and another is running circles around the kitchen, holding a turkey baster like a sword. And within five minutes of stepping fully into the Baker household, she understands why.

“Charlie’s home!”

“And he brought a girl?”

“Everyone act normal—DON’T TACKLE HIM—”

But it’s too late. Three of his younger siblings have already thrown themselves at him, clinging to his legs, one of them scaling his back like a small, determined koala. A dog is barking somewhere. A toddler is crying. A rogue soccer ball goes flying past Y/N’s head.

Charlie groans. “Jesus Christ, guys.”

Charlie catches her glance, and his expression shifts—something between an apology and hesitation, as if he’s bracing for her to be overwhelmed, for her to see all of this and think too much, too loud, too wild. Y/N is still processing the sheer volume of the house, but she’s chuckling when someone yanks her forward and traps her in a surprisingly strong hug.

“You must be Y/N!” She blinks as she is pulled back at arm’s length, coming face-to-face with a girl who shares Charlie’s sharp jawline and mischievous eyes.

“I’m Lorraine, one of Charlie’s many sisters,” she says with a grin. “Come in, come in, don’t be shy—we don’t bite. Well, Kyle did once, but he’s been trained out of it.”

A ten-year-old across the room scowls. “That was one time!”

Charlie sighs heavily. “Y/N, this is my family. Family, this is Y/N. Now, let’s all behave like normal people for once in our lives.”

Dinner is a symphony of overlapping voices, dishes being passed in a rush, elbows knocking, laughter rising and spilling over like an overfilled glass. Charlie’s dad tries (and fails) to carve the turkey without making a mess, his mom keeps swatting away small hands that sneak rolls from the breadbasket, and someone is telling a story that no one is really listening to, but everyone is enjoying anyway.

“So, Y/N,” one of Charlie’s older sisters asks, grinning across the table. “How exactly did my brother, of all people, manage to date someone like you?”

Charlie groans, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my god. We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we are doing this,” another sibling chimes in. “Because, come on, Charlie. We’ve seen your past choices.” “Beth,” someone coughs not-so-subtly.

Charlie shoots a glare across the table. “We do not need to bring up my ex right now.”

Y/N hides a smile behind her glass, watching as Charlie sinks lower in his chair, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment.

“I don’t know,” she says, feigning deep thought. “I guess I just really like mechanics who secretly have a soft heart and buy their girlfriends cameras for no reason.”

There’s a collective aww from the table. Charlie turns bright red.

His mom sighs dramatically. “Finally, someone who actually likes him.”

Charlie throws his hands up. “Okay! That’s enough! This is my girlfriend, not my public humiliation tour.”

The table erupts in laughter. Y/N, watching the way his family teases him but loves him so effortlessly, just squeezes his hand beneath the table. He glances at her, and the frustration fades into something softer, something quieter. There’s a beat of silence. Then one of the younger kids asks, dead serious, “Charlie, what’s it like having a girlfriend? Like, what do you do?”

Y/N barely has time to stifle a laugh before Charlie groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh yeah, we need to talk about this,” another sibling chimes in, leaning against the kitchen counter. “How did this happen? Who asked who out? Did Charlie say something dumb?”

“Probably,” someone else mutters.

Charlie drags a hand down his face. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N grins, propping her chin on her hand. “No, no, I’m actually curious. Please, continue.”

Lorraine smirks. “Okay, so here’s my theory: Y/N fell for him first, because look at him.” Charlie scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re decent-looking, I guess,” she continues. “But let’s be real, it was probably one of those ‘brooding mechanic with grease on his arms, pushing his hair back while fixing a car’ moments, right?” “Oh my god, shut up,” Charlie says with a groan.

Y/N, still laughing, the siblings start to join the theories like:

“I believe that Charlie magically poisoned her because, as if a beauty like her could fall for him.”

“I think Y/N wouldn’t fall for his stinky mechanic look—unless they match their freaks.”

“Or Charlie fell for Y/N first! Look at her, I mean… Maybe we need to save Y/N from Charlie!”

The table explodes with laughter as Charlie turns a shade of red previously unknown to mankind. Y/N chuckles but then places her hand on his arm. “Well, I always liked Charlie in my own way, but I met him at this super lame party. Yet he made it more interesting than I thought it would be—also, he asked me if we could go after the party to a coffee shop.” She smiles softly.

Charlie chuckles and nods. “Yeah, ever since then we’ve gone regularly to this coffee shop; it’s our thing now. Oh, and now I can do photography because of Y/N!”

The whole family falls silent because they’re in awe of the two of them. They continue to talk about the little dates or funny memories that Charlie and Y/N have collected over the months.

Later, when the meal is winding down and the warmth of the evening settles, Y/N leans close and 

murmurs, “I think I like your family.”

Charlie huffs a small laugh, still looking sheepish. “They’re insane.”

“They’re you.” He opens his mouth, but before he can say something self-deprecating, she adds, “And at least I have plenty of brothers and sisters-in-law now.” He freezes. His ears go pink.

Y/N just smiles. She doesn’t press the moment, just lets it settle—a whispered promise in the space between their laughter. But later, when he’s cleaning the table and she passes by, he hooks a finger into her belt loop, tugging her close for half a second. No words, just the warmth of his touch, just his lips brushing her temple in the quiet acknowledgment that he heard her, that he felt the weight of what she meant.

That he wants it, too.

The stars are strung low in the sky when Charlie drives them out past the city limits, to where the snow lies untouched and the air smells like pine.

They park beneath an open stretch of sky, the windows fogging from the heat of their breath, and Charlie reaches for his guitar from the backseat.

“I didn’t know you played,” Y/N murmurs, tucking her chin onto her knees, watching him.

Charlie shrugs, hands skimming the strings. “I don’t… really. Not in front of people.” He strums a few chords, then glances at her with something hesitant, something vulnerable. “But I wanted to play for you.”

The first notes come tentative, like he’s testing the shape of the song against the silence. Then, as he finds the rhythm, he loses himself in it, fingers moving with a quiet confidence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N watches, her heart catching somewhere between the melody and the way the soft light of the car dashboard paints him in gentle golds. She reaches for her camera, snapping a picture before she can think too much about it.

A moment caught. A memory pressed into permanence. When he finishes, the last notes fading into the hush of night, he sets the guitar aside and turns to her.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She already knows.

Still, when he cups her face in his hands, when his lips meet hers—slow and deep and full of things unspoken—she melts into it like she belongs there.

“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth.

And Y/N, with winter curled around them and the whole universe narrowed to this moment, smiles into the kiss.

“I love you too, my love.”

💌: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @angelsgalore @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @tinainaction @seulgi-burgundy @floralscented @artyandink

p1 pt 2

[astraanti]

Through your eyes

Optimus prime (Bayverse) (Mass displacement) x Fem human

4120 words

Note: My language is not english. This one shot was originally written in spanish. If you see a mistake in the translation, don't hesitate to tell me. Ty ❤️

This One Shot was based on the song Through the Eyes of a Child by AURORA!

Enjoy! ❤️

Tranquility at the base was a rarity, especially knowing that a war was lurking around the corner. A war that, as a species, had involved us for a few years due to our alliance with the Autobots.

In every great confrontation, there were always losses: a sea of debris, energon and spilled blood spread across the battlefields, mixing with the smell of black powder.

We hoped this would end soon. Too many lives lost, entire generations paying the price for an insatiable thirst for power. But for Optimus, this was more than a war. Each battle was a reminder of what he had lost, of what his people had sacrificed for a conflict that seemed to have no end.

For him, each extinguished spark was a new wound, an additional weight on his already tired shoulders. Although he tried to hide it behind his posture of unwavering leader, his optics could not lie. There was a weariness to them, a suffering that echoed in every word he spoke.

Optimus was not just a soldier. He was a witness to the fall of Cybertron, a survivor who had seen his world slowly die. And through it all, he kept fighting, not for glory, but for the hope of a better future.

He saw the consequences of war: pain, tears, and the sacrifice of beings of great heart and innocence.

However, that day was the exception. It was a light of hope that shone through the agony.

We had received news of a Decepticon ship crashing near the city. We had to explore it because no vital activity had been detected inside. At least, that was what we thought.

At first Optimus refused to allow me to accompany him, but I insisted. I was not a soldier like the members of NEST, I am just a human civilian who wanted to accompany my partner, even on such a dangerous expedition.

“Stay close to me, no matter what,” Optimus ordered as we geared up for the mission.

I climbed into his cockpit in the copilot’s seat, aware that he was upset that I had persuaded him, but I also sensed a hint of resignation in his voice.

I stroked the inside of his cockpit. I knew how much he had been through in the past few days. His holomatter, a human projection of him, had nightmares. He didn’t need to sleep, sometimes he would activate his holographic form and stay in a recharge state next to me, seeking temporary relief in my arms.

I knew our relationship was a small refuge for him, but his past, so full of pain, haunted him constantly. It was inevitable.

All this time he had made difficult decisions, decisions that, although necessary, had left deep scars on his soul.

“Optimus…” I whispered, knowing he could hear me even over the roar of his engine. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

He didn't answer, but I felt a subtle shift in his energy. Perhaps it was a spark of hope, or at least the desire to be able to believe in my words.

For Optimus, even such a simple promise was an anchor. A reason to keep going. Because he had carried the burden of an entire world on his shoulders, he now had something else to protect: not just a cause, but someone. Me.

And although he didn't say it with words, I knew what he felt.

And so the journey began. A caravan of Autobots and military convoys followed us closely. The tension of discovering what that Decepticon ship was hiding kept us alert. We knew it could be a trap, but there was also the possibility that luck was on our side.

I could see the sunset from the window, it was like a breath of fresh air for my soul. Being locked between base and base was sometimes suffocating for me. It's so nice to have a scene like that and be a spectator of it.

So, Optimus opened the passenger window halfway to make the experience more pleasant, he knew how much I liked sunsets.

"Thank you."

It wasn’t long before the sun began to set and night began to creep into the sky in the company of the glittering stars.

But it also meant that we were close to our destination. The Decepticon ship soon loomed in the distance, though visibly damaged, it stood in a field of twisted debris and charred metal.

The impact marks and cracks in its structure were proof that it had fallen from a great height. The air was permeated with a strange metallic smell, mixed with the scent of spilled energon.

The NEST soldiers descended from the vehicles as we arrived; armed and in formation, they scanned the surroundings with military precision. Some set up a security perimeter, while others secured the area.

I jumped out of the truck.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of gears and metal parts moving beside me, indicating that Optimus had transformed.

"Stay tuned. We don't know what we can find here," Lennox warned firmly, his eyes scanning the field for any sign of activity.

The Autobots were the first to approach the ship. Optimus led the group with his posture full of authority and determination. Bumblebee advanced behind us, emitting a couple of musical phrases through his radio as a way to relieve the tension. Ratchet, always attentive, inspected any energon residue he found, while Crosshairs complained loudly.

"Why do we always have to explore the most unpleasant places? Is there no Decepticon ship that doesn't smell like death?" Crosshairs grumbled, adjusting the weapons he carried at his waist.

"Stop complaining, Crosshairs. If there's no danger, it's better for us," Drift intervened, momentarily unsheathing his twin katanas to cautiously explore.

"Everyone stay focused," Hound growled, holding his huge weapon. He looked around suspiciously, always ready to open fire if necessary.

I stayed by Optimus’ side as we made our way to the entrance of the ship. However, something inside called to me.

“Stay close to me, you promised,” Optimus reminded me in a firm but protective tone, stopping for a second to observe me.

I nodded, but that strange feeling kept pulling me somewhere else. It was something I couldn’t ignore.

The Autobots began to make their way through the various cabins of the ship. The structures were torn apart, the hallways barely lit by sparks, and there was a faint blue glow of dried energon on the walls. They found no signs of life, not even the slightest noise.

Ratchet knelt next to a dead Decepticon, inspecting his body.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Ratchet said, shaking his head. “Their processors are completely fried, as if a massive overload had instantly disabled them.”

“An experimental Decepticon weapon?” Drift asked, his gaze fixed on another nearby body.

“It’s possible, but there’s no clear evidence. It could be something internal…” Ratchet interrupted himself as he examined the corpse. “Still, there’s nothing.”

As Ratchet and the others figured out the source of the charred processors, my focus on the hunch kept taking me elsewhere. I tried to figure out what it was, but I felt a slight warmth in my chest, as if an invisible energy was directing me.

So I made the decision to separate myself while Optimus explored the controls area in the cockpit.

I was so wrapped up in chasing my intuition. And...

I found it.

But Optimus found me before I could take another step. I felt his presence a little before I heard his deep voice echo behind me.

"I told you not to get away from me," he scolded me in a stern tone. His optics looked at me more with concern than anger.

I raised my hands in apology, feeling small before his imposing figure.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, but... there's something here, Optimus." I don't know what it is, but I can feel it," I replied, pointing at the metal door at the end of the room.

He looked where my finger was pointing, his face hardening. Without saying a word, he advanced towards the door and, with the brute force that characterized him, ripped it off its hinges.

What we found on the other side left me speechless. The room was covered in dried energon debris, forming dark puddles that seemed to glow faintly under the dim light. But most disconcerting were the human toys that were scattered across the floor. There were worn-out stuffed animals, plastic cars, and dolls with broken limbs.

"What is this...?" I muttered, feeling a chill run through me. I took the largest toy in my hands and examined it to see if there were any marks or messages that might give us some answer. But there was nothing, it was just a worn-out and broken toy.

I put it back on the floor.

I pulled my flashlight from my belt and began scanning, illuminating the corners of the place as I tried to process what I saw. What were human toys doing here? It didn't make sense.

Optimus remained silent, but it was clear that he was also analyzing the scene. Suddenly, a soft, high-pitched sound broke the silence. It was Optimus' radar, activating.

"There's an energy signature..." he said cautiously, tilting his head slightly as if trying to locate the source of the energy on the radar.

I turned to him, confused,

“Here? In this chamber?” I asked, shining my flashlight.

“Yes. It’s faint, but it’s here,” he confirmed, advancing with slow, careful steps.

My flashlight picked up something at the back of the room, in a dark corner. It was a small figure curled up between thick blankets, almost hidden among the remains of energon and scattered toys. I couldn’t make out what it was, but an impulse drove me to approach it.

“Wait,” Optimus stopped me, placing his huge hand in front of me as he crouched down to reach my height. His gesture was protective, as always.

“I just want to see it better,” I assured him, although my voice was carried away by my nervousness.

He nodded reluctantly and allowed me to advance under his watch. The energy signal grew stronger as we approached the figure. Whatever was there, it was alive. Or at least, something was still working.

Optimus followed me until we reached the pile of blankets stacked high. We both carefully removed them, until we realized what it was...

"My love?" I called out to Optimus and fixed my gaze on him, he was also in shock.

It was a torn sack of energon. Next to it, there was a small sleeping Cybertronian hatchling clinging to a dirty teddy bear.

Our souls sank into sadness.

I couldn't take it anymore, so I slowly approached the hatchling and stroked its head. Its large glowing optics opened in fear as it woke up.

"Hey! You're okay, calm down. We didn't come to hurt you, little one." I lowered the flashlight to the ground and put my hands in front of me to show the hatchling that it was completely unarmed.

Optimus remained silent behind me with his optics fixed on the small hatchling. It was as if he was processing the situation, as if what we were seeing couldn't possibly be real.

“How is that possible?” he finally murmured, a mix of disbelief and sorrow in her voice. “The hatchlings ceased to exist when Cybertron fell… none could have survived.”

But there she was, clinging with all her might to that worn-out little bear, shaking as if the mere act of existing scared her. The lights on her armor flickered weakly, a sign that she barely had enough energon to stay active, and she had deep dents in several parts of her body.

“Is it possible that she survived this long here?” I asked, keeping my voice soft so as not to scare her further.

“The hatchlings ceased to exist after Cybertron’s decline. The few that remained… they didn’t survive. Hunger, rust, and neglect…” Optimus stopped, unable to continue.

My eyes filled with tears at the sight of her so vulnerable, but I forced myself to remain calm. Slowly, I knelt in front of her, trying to look as unintimidating as possible.

“Little one, you’re safe,” I said softly, carefully bringing my hands closer so she could still see them. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.”

She cringed against the bear tightly, her large blue optics focused on me in terror. Optimus stepped forward, his imposing presence seeming to frighten her even more.

“Wait, Optimus,” I asked softly, holding up a hand to stop him. “Let me try.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds, looking for a way to get closer to her. I decided to sit on the floor, getting down to her level, and spoke again.

“Do you have a name?” I asked, trying not to sound pushy.

The child didn’t respond at first. She just stared at us, those huge optics full of uncertainty. Finally, she stammered something, her voice weak and shaky, as if she wasn’t used to using it.

“No… I don’t have a name…”

My chest tightened at hearing her. She was so small, she seemed so broken inside and out. I looked at Optimus, whose expression reflected as much pain as mine.

“Can you tell us how long you’ve been here?” he asked, lowering his voice to an almost fatherly tone, something unusual for him but comforting.

The hatchling shook her head, hunching further into herself.

“A long time… alone…” she whispered, her words cut off by small sobs. “The bad guys… gone. They’re all gone.”

My tears wanted to come out, but I held back. I couldn’t allow myself to show weakness now, not in front of her. I approached a little slower and more carefully, until I was close enough to touch her little metal hand.

“You’re not alone now, little one,” I said, lacing my fingers with hers. Her touch was cold, but I felt her trembling lessen a little at the contact. “I promise you that you’re safe with us.”

Optimus knelt down as well, his huge body making an effort to look less intimidating.

“We won’t hurt you, little one. I’m here to protect you,” he assured her, his tone full of warmth and promise.

The hatchling looked up at him, her optics shining with something that could be hope. She hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded.

“How can we help you?” I asked, gently stroking the less damaged part of her head.

She looked down at the broken energon sac beside her, her optics filling with tears that couldn’t fall.

“I’m… hungry…” she said in an almost inaudible whisper.

Optimus exchanged a quick glance with me, and in that moment we knew we had to do everything we could to save her.

“Ratchet,” Optimus called over the communicator. “We have a situation here. We need energon and medical equipment immediately.”

The atmosphere in the ship grew more tense as the other Autobots continued to scan the cabins for weaponry and any clues that would explain what had happened there. However, for Optimus and me, the priority had changed: this hatchling needed help, and fast.

Ratchet arrived shortly after, accompanied by Bumblebee, who was carrying a small container with refined energon. Seeing the hatchling, the Autobot medic couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

“Primus… a Cybertronian hatchling, It's a sparkling ” he murmured, kneeling beside us to examine her. His expression quickly changed from surprise to professional focus. “She’s in pretty bad shape. She needs fresh energon and repairs.”

Ratchet connected a tube to the energon container and carefully brought it closer to the hatchling. She recoiled a little at first, but her instincts betrayed her. The hunger was too much, and after a moment of hesitation, she accepted the food. The blue liquid began to flow, and her optics glowed a little brighter with each sip.

“That’s it, little one. Don’t worry, this will make you feel better,” I said softly, stroking her head as she drank.

Bee made happy, surprised sounds.

“It’s a miracle,” Optimus replied, his tone grave but full of determination. “But we won’t leave her alone.”

As the hatchling finished feeding, her little systems seemed to stabilize a little. Ratchet performed a quick scan and sighed.

“Her structure is stable, but she has multiple damages. The armor is dented, and her spark is weak. She needs a more thorough treatment at the base,” he reported.

Optimus nodded.

“We have to take her immediately,” Optimus placed me on his shoulder. Finally, he took the baby in his arms and headed for the exit of the ship.

Many of the NEST and Autobot soldiers looked at the scene in disbelief. My vision was fixed again on the baby who looked at me with curious optics.

I couldn't help but smile to give her confidence.

•••

The return to the base was not the easiest. I had to get Bee and the baby into Optimus' trailer. Bumblebee, being a small autobot, fit, but with difficulty.

We realized that it was the most effective way we had to transport her to the base.

The noise of the city scared her too much, even though she couldn't see her through the walls of the trailer. I don't think she'd ever known the world outside that storage chamber.

But when we arrived, Ratchet, Optimus, and Bee carried the little girl into the Autobot medbay. I didn't leave their side for a second. The baby had fallen asleep in Bumblebee's arms, and they placed her on a makeshift stretcher while Ratchet prepared his tools.

"Will she be okay?" I asked, biting my lip. I watched the doctor adjust a monitor that projected the status of her spark.

"She will be, but she needs time and care. Her systems are severely affected, but with enough energon and repairs, she can recover," Ratchet replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

Optimus remained silent next to the stretcher, his optics focused on the little girl.

"She's so... traumatized," I said, saddened.

Optimus answered after a pause.

"The hatchlings of Cybertron were vulnerable, even in times of peace. But during the war… they became victims of the conflict. This little one was probably alone for a long time, witnessing things no young life should ever see. "

The hatchling began to stir a little, as if she was having a nightmare. I reached over and took her hand, gently caressing it.

"Shh, calm down. You’re safe now" I whispered, trying to calm her down.

She slowly woke up, her optics looking at me with some confusion.

"What… what is this?" she asked, her little voice was weak but curious.

"It’s a safe place, little one. We’re here to take care of you" Optimus answered, his tone was soft and warm.

She looked around again, still having a hard time accepting that she was out of this dark, cold place. Then, her optics focused on me, and for the first time, I saw a slight spark of trust.

"Will you stay with me?" she asked, with a heartbreaking innocence.

My throat closed up at the sound of her voice, but I smiled and nodded, taking her hand firmly.

“Of course. We’re not leaving you alone anymore.”

Optimus leaned toward her and spoke with the solemnity only he could use.

“You’re with us now. We’ll protect you. That’s my promise.”

•••

The days after the rescue of the little hatchling were a roller coaster of emotions. Ratchet worked too hard on her recovery, and Optimus and I didn't move from her side. While her small body repaired the most serious damage with the help of energon and Ratchet's skills, we took turns talking to her, keeping her calm and reassuring her that everything would be okay.

Sometimes I read human fantasy stories to her, taught her to speak and to know everyday objects. Optimus for his part stayed behind to guard our safety.

"How are you feeling, little one?" I asked her one afternoon while I carried a small container of energon to her.

She took the container in her small hands and looked at us.

"Better..." she murmured, her voice still unsure.

Optimus, standing next to me, leaned towards her.

"You've been very brave. I'm proud of you," he said in a soft, comforting tone.

The hatchling blinked, we noticed that she was not used to receiving words of pride. I walked over and gently stroked her head.

“You know, I think you should have a name. Something you like and that makes you feel special.”

She looked at us, confused at first.

“A name?” she asked, as if it was a new concept for her.

“Yes, a name,” I replied with a smile. “Something that is yours.”

Days passed before she made a decision. She asked us questions about Autobot names, human names, and even my own. Finally, one morning while I was eating breakfast, she pointed at something on a screen. It was a bright star in a picture of the galaxy.

“I want… I want to be called Nova! ” she said cheerfully.

The name suited her perfectly. Nova. A bright spark in the midst of so much darkness.

•••

Over time, life at the base became much more lively with Nova around. Her steps toward normality filled the air with a joy we hadn’t felt in a long time. Optimus and I would spend hours watching her play, either with the humans working at the base or with Bumblebee, who had become her companion for exploration and learning.

One evening, as the evening light cast on the hangar walls, Nova ran after Bee, laughing happily. I stood leaning on the frame of the hangar entrance. I watched as Bee let herself be caught and then jumped up and encouraged her to keep running. It was such a simple scene, but so exciting and sweet.

Suddenly, I felt something familiar behind me. Optimus’s large hands gently encircled me as he adjusted his size with his massive displacement to not appear so imposing. His metal arms were firm but comforting, and his presence made me relax more.

“It’s beautiful to see her like this, isn’t it?” he murmured, always managing to calm any intrusive thoughts in my mind.

I nodded, leaning against his metal chest.

“Yes, it is. It’s been so long since I saw something so joyful. Nova brought light to the hangar, Optimus.”

He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was gathering the right words. Then, he spoke.

“Remember that time we talked about having children?” he asked.

My lips turned into a smile as I turned slightly to look at him. Of course I remembered. We had had that conversation during one of the few quiet nights amidst the chaos of war.

“I remember, yes,” I replied, looking into his blue optics that reflected love.

“We can’t create a life together, not the way humans or even Cybertronians do. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be parents.”

I fell silent, trying to process what he had just said.

“Are you saying that… you want to adopt Nova?” I asked incredulously.

Optimus nodded slowly.

"She already sees us as important figures in her life. I don't want it to be just a temporary bond. I want Nova to know that we are her family, now and always."

The lump that formed in my throat was hard to ignore. I turned completely to look him in the eyes.

I bit my lip as tears filled my eyes. I couldn't help but get emotional hearing his words.

"Yes "I whispered, I had broken down.

Optimus rested his forehead against mine, a gesture of intimacy, affection and connection.

He wiped my tears.

"Then it will be like this. She will be our daughter. Nova is a spark of hope. And I want that hope to grow with us."

I looked at his optics again, my heart beating faster than normal. I think it was time to tell him.

"Optimus... "I continued, my voice sounding a little shaky.

He gave me a worried and attentive look.

"What's wrong?"

I let out a slight nervous laugh and squeezed his hand a little.

“I thought about what you said, about not being able to create life together. And it’s true, humans and Cybertronians can’t have biological children. But…”

He cocked his head, clearly intrigued.

“But what?”

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

I took a deep breath until I found the courage to tell him,

“I guess Nova won’t be our only child,” I said with a slight smile.

The silence that followed was palpable, but not awkward. Optimus tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me as he processed my words.

“Let’s just say… the surprises don’t stop with Nova,” I commented.

Optimus remained silent for a few moments, his optics lighting up with a mix of wonder and something that seemed to be hope. Before he could respond, a joyful shout from Nova broke the moment, drawing our attention.

“Mom! Dad! Look how fast I can run!” she shouted, turning to greet us with a wave of excitement.

Optimus and I exchanged a glance, and though our words remained unfinished, we both knew that the future held something unexpected, something that would change our lives again.

[someone1348]

It was long overdue...its time; I'm doing a squid games fic! I'm scared, but I'm posting it anyway! I've wanted to write for it for a while now, I just never had ideas or motivation! There's already so many great squid games writers, and I just am nervous!

Anyway!

The people in this: Ler!Jung-Bae, Lee!Dae-ho (naturally, I had to do them first!)

Tw: Anxiety, a little cursing, regardless this is a tickle fic, so if you don't like it, please keep scrolling! Thank you! :]

Also, squid games season 2 spoilers, so if you haven't watched it, I'd recommend watching it first!

With that being said enjoy!! <3

____________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Such a ticklish marine

They had just finished the six-legged pentathlon. Spirits were high for about five seconds before they heard the gunshots again from the other side of the room. Dae-ho squirmed back again, covering his ears. Heart racing as Jung-Bae put a hand to his shoulder. It was almost like it was second nature. Dae-ho definitely showed his love through physical touch, and Jung-Bae did, too, so it just worked. They mirrored each other perfectly. The older of the two really took Dae-ho in, especially after he found out he was also an ex-marine. The bond of marines is unbreakable, but with how big Jung-Bae's heart is, he saw Dae-ho like the son he never had. Even if he doesn't admit it out loud, his actions show everything.

So when he's freaking out, covering his ears, fidgeting, the whole nine yards, he clocked his ptsd pretty fast. It made his heart ache a little for the poor boy. He wanted to, no, needed to do something to help him out. Jung-Bae took a deep breath and walked behind him as they entered the main room. Several teams who made it already sitting on one of the bunks groupped together, naturally. They did the same, sitting down waiting now for dinner to be served. Dae-ho was fidgeting again with his hands, scanning the room as some of the teams gave their team ugly stares. Jung-Bae placed a gentle hand to his knee for support, to try and ground him so he knows that he's not alone. Dae-ho's shoulders jumped a little at the impact but relaxed when he realized it was just Jung-Bae.

"Don't worry about them... they're just greedy assholes. We won't let anything happen to you or anyone on our team." Jung-Bae said with a determined smile as Dae-ho nodded.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Dae-ho replied out of instinct as Jung-Bae giggled gently at this.

"Atta boy!" He gently squeezed Dae-ho's knee as his hearty laughter grew. Without having time to hold back a reaction, Dae-ho squeaked quietly, but it definitely caught Jung-Bae's attention. Even through his laughter, he definitely heard that correctly. Blinking gently, Jung-Bae looked up at the boy with curiosity. Dae-ho's eyes widened. He tried to keep a poker face, like nothing happened, but he was really bad at that. Jung-Bae and everyone around him could see right through him.

"Dae-ho...?" Jung-Bae said a slight tease in his voice.

Dae-ho gulped gently and blinked "Yes...Sir...?"

The nervous reaction sent Jung-Bae's smile into a wicked smirk. He scooted closer to the already anxious marine. Now his heart was racing again, not out of fear, though. It moved quickly knowing what was potentially about to happen. He has four older sisters. He knows a 'I'm gonna tickle you' look when he sees one!

"Don't tell me, you, a strong, brave, ex-marine is ticklish?" He teased him, obviously not talking down to him. Dae-ho knew this and was thankful that he didn't make fun of him for it. It was normal, nothing to be ashamed about. Dae-ho took a deep breath, not knowing how to respond. Jung-Bae just giggled.

"This is gold!" He seemed happier than ever at this newfound information. Was...was that it? Was he really not going to get tickled? Dae-ho was overthinking it before the gaurds called everyone to grab dinner. Snapping out of his thoughts, they all got in line to get their portion of the meals. It was barely anything. Every day, there was less. They did that on purpose, but hey, at least they were getting something to eat.

After getting his tin and water, Dae-ho sat back down in the same spot. Jung-Bae, however, moved up a step to sit next to Dae-ho. The younger looked at the older with wider eyes than normal. Jung-Bae didn't say anything he just opened his tin and started eating.

"What did you get?" The question made Dae-ho blink before he opened his tin.

"Um...the same thing as you, we all get the same thing, sir," he said matter-of-factly. Which again made Jung-Bae giggle. This man was just always full of laughter, even in a situation like this. Something that made Dae-ho admire him even further. The conversation fell silent again as they kept eating. Jung-Bae talking to Gi-Hun and the others before turning back to Dae-ho.

"So...where are you most ticklish?" He asked teasingly and excitedly.

Dae-ho nearly choked on his rice at the question. Coughing a little before regaining his senses, Jung-Bae laughed.

"You okay, soldier?"

Dae-ho nodded quickly. The older patted his shoulder again happily. Jung-Bae was doing all of this on purpose. Sure, he wanted to know this information, but he wanted to help, mostly. He thought that maybe tickling him could help get him distracted enough to calm his anxiety. It worked on Gi-Hun whenever he had nightmares as kids, so maybe it'll help Dae-ho, too. He needed to try regardless. If it doesn't work, he'll try something else. Jung-Bae smirked and went back to teasing.

"If you won't talk, that's fine, I'll figure it out one way or another," he hummed gently, running a hand down his spine. Dae-ho arched gently out of instinct and smiled. Good a smile, that's a start. He's not uncomfortable. That's all he wanted to make sure of first before he could do anything.

Once dinner was completed, Jung-Bae finally put his plan into action. Dae-ho tried to move away to throw his tin away, but Jung-Bae pulled him back.

"Ah ah ah... you can do that later! I wanna see what you can do, boy! You've impressed me a lot as of recently. Let's keep that streak up, sha'll we?" He hummed as Dae-ho raised an eyebrow.

"I'm honored, sir, but I'm not exactly following..." He said honestly as Jung-Bae's smirk returned.

"Don't laugh~" he teased. Without warning, he used both hands to gently squeeze at Dae-ho's sides. A loud shriek rang through the place, followed by laughter and Dae-ho rolling over, trying to escape him. If he started with any other spot, he would've been able to hold it in, but Jung-Bae had to get his worst spot first! On a total guess too! Not fair!

Jung-Bae giggled with him. "You didn't even last a second! Such a ticklish marine~" he teased again, stopping for a second so Dae-ho could catch his breath and sit up.

"That wasn't fair! I could've done better if you didn't go for-" he inhaled and bit his lip as Jung-Bae tickled his neck in retaliation for the attitude. This was so fun for him now.

"Ohhhh, there we go! You're lastly relatively well. Let's see how you pair up against two spots at once!" He cheered before using his other hand to skitter gently across his ribs. Dae-ho squirmed a little but kept his laughter back as best as he could.

"You can do it, Dae-ho!" He supported him while actively scribbling across his stomach to get to each side of his ribs. Back and forth, while his other hand still wiggled against the right side of Dae-ho's neck. It took 10 more seconds before Dae-ho burst out in giggles again. Lying on the steps to try and get away. Jung-Bae's hands followed his movements with a smile.

"Juhuhung-bahahae!! Sihihir! Please! Hahaha!" It was light airy giggles since Jung-Bae was being relatively nice about it, for now. The older marines heart practically melted into puddy at the sound.

"Please what Dae-ho? I can't understand you with all this laughter!" He pulled up his shirt a little, using both hands to now tickle his stomach, which got Dae-ho kicking now. His water bottle now knocked off the stairs. Thank God it was closed. But Young-il had to duck, moving out of the way of the water bottle and the pair.

"JUHuhUhung-BAHaEHe!" He laughed a little more as his hands held onto the others' wrists. The other laughed with him and continued to tease him. One finger finding it's way into his belly button. This caused Dae-ho to make a sound similar to a snort and laugh some more.

"You know I think this might be why you're not a marine anymore, you're an interrogation risk, one little tickle and you'd spill all the beans of our plans" he joked which made the other a little embarrassed. His ears were a little red as he kept laughing.

"HaHaHAHAHA!" He kept going. "I wOhoHould nEHeHeVer! BETraHAhay! My TeHEHEheam!" He tried to defend himself before Jung-Bae smirked. He knew that, duh, but that was still adorable. He liked it when he was laughing rather than panicking. It suited him.

"Tickle Tickle Tickle~" he teased more, moving up to gently tickle his underarms. Dae-ho slammed them down quickly, his laughter never subsiding as he squirmed around on the step.

"GEhehEt OhoHOUT oF tHEHehere!!" He shook his head no as Jung-Bae giggled.

"Oh? Do you want me to pick a different spot?" He asked gently as Dae-ho nodded frantically through his laughter. He soon regretted his decision as Jung-Bae's hands went from his underarms to his sides, squeezing the ex-marine's most ticklish spot with determination.

"AHAHAHAHA NOHOHO HAHAHAHA!" Dae-ho let out a bout of laughter mixed with some incoherent speech. His kicking increased ten-folds as well. He was a squirmer, that's for sure. Jung-Bae smiled and kept going.

"What's the matter soldier? Is it too ticklish for ya? Hmm? I'm gonna getcha!" He was deep into tickle monster mode now. There was no stopping Jung-Bae now. Dae-ho squeaked this time as he let himself laugh.

"IHIHHIT TIHIHIHICKLES! JUHUHUHUNG-BAHAEHE!" He threw his head back gently, laughing as his back arched into his hands out of instinct. This was amusing to Jung-Bae. So he was enjoying this, good!

"SHIHIHIT!-" He said, moving his body back to the floor. Jung-Bae smirked at this.

"Such fowl language for an ex-marine! Watch your tone, young man!" He smiled before blowing a raspberry into one of his sides, still tickling his other side with the other hand. He lost his mind.

"SIHIHIHIR! IHIM SOHOHORRY! MERCY PLEHEHEHEHEASE HAHAHA!" He asked for mercy. Jung-Bae gave him a few more scribbles before he finally stopped. Beaming, Jung-Bae sat back and watched Dae-ho catch his breath, giggles poking through every now and again.

"At ease, buddy"

"Thahank you...sir" he sat up gently as Jung-Bae patted his shoulder again. His duty was done. Mission completed.

"Dae-ho, don't worry about it, you aren't the only ticklish ex-marine around." Gi-Hun smirked as Jung-Bae gasped

"Gi-Hun!" He said, sounded offended even though he really wasn't. Dae-ho giggled at this and turned to Jung-Bae.

"I see..." he hummed teasingly

Like father like son.

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

Thank you @sleepy--anon for pushing me further to write for squid games and giving me the duo idea! I hope I did the fandom/show justice!

-K :]

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

The smile on his face remained bright even as she nudged him in a mock-reprimanding way, to which he jerked up a bit and away from her, though he didn't keep that small distance he'd created between them for too long as he snuggled back against her within a few moments. "Nice to hear that" He murmured sincerely, draping his arm over her body once again, already dreading the moment he'd have to let go of her, so he secretly hoped she'd grow sleepy sooner than she'd feel the urge to drag him into the bathroom and under the shower, for in that case, she would fall asleep in his arms and he could hold her in his embrace for the rest of the night without any interruption. He listened to her carefully as she explained what was on her mind, revealing that she had similar thoughts to his own. She was grateful that they'd gotten another chance from fate and she was grateful for him. He'd found her words to be touching and thought-provoking, however, no matter how many answers had come to his mind - from witty to honest - in connection with her question, he'd been rendered speechless by her sudden statement. Albeit being foreseeable, he hadn't expected her to bluntly tell him that she loved him... she loved him... and at once, everything other than the truth seemed irrational to respond with. He wanted to be honest with her, even if it meant he'd become vulnerable at once... even if it meant throwing everything away he'd stood for for the past two years.. even if he had to face it all and be honest with himself first. He wanted to allow himself to be loved and to love again. He wanted to trust her. Badly. "And I've never stopped loving you, Cissa" Holding her gaze, he breathed back slowly, allowing every single one of his words to sink in before he'd moved on. "We've been through a lot... Good and bad times, but what we have- it's unconditional, forgiving and unbreakable" He continued as he made sure he had her undivided attention, taking his time to properly express his feelings as he admired her in the dim light, hoovering above him with an intent look with her dark locks cascading down, tempting him to brush his fingers through them, though he resisted the urge. "We belong together, no matter how much we try to deny it or fight it" He concluded as he brought his hand up to his face to rest it over her petite hand, unaware of just how exactly true that had been to the both of them, especially as he couldn't be sure whether she'd tried to deny or fight her feelings during those past weeks.

The silence stretched between them, heavy, electric. Even Narcissa was startled by the confession, by the way it landed in the space between them like something fragile and unshakable all at once. Without words, Narcissa could see it on his face that she had perhaps spoken too soon. She wanted to immediately speak to cover up and make things right again, but she realized that she didn't feel those words were a mistake, nor did she feel she had said them too soon. She said them when she was ready. The only thing she considered saying was that if he wasn't ready, she understood and he did not have to rush into anything. However, he began to speak and she also knew that he wouldn't say those words to please her. He had never been that way. He always was honest and allowed his feelings to speak true, as she remembered many times when she would ask for his forgiveness about an issue and he would explain that he was not ready to give it and that it would take time. She began to mentally prepare herself for that and finding herself searching for a feeling of peace for when it came.

But that is not what happened. Her eyes searched his as he immediately returned her feelings. It was as if she was waiting for a "but" that never came. Her heart raced a bit faster and the corners of her lips turned upward ever so slightly, finding herself to soften even more at his words. He was right; they had been through a lot and no person or thing could strip them from the memories tied to one another. Blinking almost immediately, she wasn't on the verge of tears but his feelings had made her misty eyed. This was it. They had finally made it back to one another and though the past was not easy forgotten, they could move forward....together, as one. Leaning down, she rested her forehead first to his and only waited a moment before her soft lips brushed against his as she felt the weight of all the years between them dissolve into something light. She didn't deepen the kiss but she made sure he knew how valued and cherished he was in that moment. It meant the world that he felt the same and she reminded herself once again that he would not have said it if it was not true or if he didn't feel ready to say it. Pulling back slightly, she smiled, "I don't want you or I to fight against one another anymore. I want to fight for you...beside you...with you," she breathed softly, sealing her promise with another kiss.

Bones of Contention

[wroetominter]

Three Peaks - George Clarke

Warnings: none, some swearing

Thank you for the request! I have some serious writers block right now so bear with as the time between posts may be a little longer. I appreciate you!

———

"I don't know how I got roped into this one" I adjusted the microphone I was securing to Chris' t-shirt. He chuckled, patting my shoulder as I finished.

"Well, there aren't many of you fit enough to actually climb three mountains so it was quite the easy choice." Chris said. I sighed, shaking my head. Mentally slapping myself for telling Chris casually that I enjoyed a good hike.

Chris had the thought for a video that honestly, I couldn't even make fun of. It was a really well thought out idea. A group of his friends and crew tackling the three peaks challenge. Which is essentially just climbing three mountains in 24 hours. Seems damn near impossible, especially considering the group he had.

I had been part of Chris' camera crew for almost a year now, and I felt like I had really found a good group of friends in this job. Outside of filming I had been hanging out with Chris and his core group frequently. Many nights spent out at different pubs, or simply hanging out at their flat.

"Let's get going shall we?" Chris began to lead the group. I stuck towards the middle, filming the boys who had taken the lead.

Reev, Chris, and George led the pack as we began the ascent to the top of our first mountain.

"I can already tell this is going to be fucking awful." I heard from behind me. I turned my head to see Arthur Hill beginning the days complaints.

"George you owe me a tenner!" Television shouted from beside him.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"I placed a bet that Hill would be the first to complain." Television explained. I threw my head back laughing, panning the camera to catch Hills reaction. He deadpanned and just stared at the camera.

"Don't worry Arthur, I'm not looking forward to this either."

Each boy had been given their own special challenge for the video, and I was really enjoying watching Reev attempt to put rocks in the boys shoes.

"What's your challenge?" I asked Chris as I caught up to him.

"I need to get someone to believe a fake fact about each mountain." He whispered to the camera.

"That feels alarmingly easy considering the group we're with." I said. He agreed and told me he was already scheming up his first lie to tell Arthur.

We had been climbing for close to two hours by this point, and we were nearing the peak.

"Enjoying yourself love?" George asked me as he took a seat on the rock next to me.

"It's not nearly as bad as I expected it to be, I'll be honest." I snacked on the apple slices I packed, offering one out to George.

We sat in a comfortable silence, watching the others as they bantered back and forth with each other.

I sat and admired George as he laughed, not being able to help myself from laughing along. He had an infectious laugh. Chris caught me staring at George and raised an eyebrow at me. He was the only one of the group who knew I had somewhat of a crush on George. I had unfortunately admitted it to him accidentally after one drink too many during a pub crawl.

We had all gotten up again to keep our pace going up the mountain. The terrain upwards wasn't too bad. The most annoying part by far was having to continue to film while simultaneously making sure I didn't fall down.

"I never thought this would end!" Arthur Hill screamed as we reached the peak.

"I'm sure you're used to hearing that in bed." Harry joked with him patting him on the back.

We all shared a laugh and took in the nice view. It wasn't long before we realized that 'huh, guess we just go down now' and begin to descend the mountain.

I trailed behind Chris and ArthurTV, catching some of their conversation as Chris tried to convince Arthur that some celebrity had been the first person to complete this challenge. I had to actively hold in a giggle as I knew Chris was having him on with his challenge.

During my distracted state, I felt myself slide to the side as my foot hit a loose rock that sent me falling down. Instinctively deciding to protect my camera, I took the full brunt of the fall to my hip and legs.

"Shit, are you alright?" George asked jogging to catch up to me.

Catching my breath after scaring myself with the fall, I nodded towards him. I turned my camera off and stuck it in its carrying bag beside me, examining my ankle.

It was fairly scraped up, and was slightly throbbing. Nothing that felt it would be too crazy but painful nonetheless.

A few of the others called out to see if I was okay. I gave them a thumbs up.

"I'll stay with her and help her down, you guys can go ahead we'll just be a few minutes." George called back to them.

"Does it hurt?" He asked me, grazing his fingertips over my ankle to assess.

"Not a ton, I think I was more shocked by the fall than anything. I'll be fine George, thank you for staying behind with me." I smiled at him, noting his features contorted with uncertainty at my words.

He stood up, holding his hands out for me to help me up. I happily grabbed them and put pressure on my ankle, feeling a tinge of pain but it was bearable.

I stood upright, George still holding onto my hands to make sure I was steady. He never took his eyes off of mine, scanning my face for any sign of pain.

"I'm good George, I promise." He smiled at me, squeezing my hands.

"I think it's time to reveal my challenge to you." His words took me by surprise as I had no idea where this topic had come from.

He let go of my hands, fishing around in his pocket and pulling out a cue card similar to the other boys. He unfolded it and turned it towards me.

In small, easily recognizable handwriting I read off 'tell Y/n you have feelings for her you dumb twat'. Chris. Of course Chris would write that.

I looked back up to him, his face flushed from either embarrassment or anxiety, I couldn't tell.

"I assume what's written there is true?" I asked George, looking to him for confirmation. He nodded, sliding the paper back into his pocket.

We both stood there a little awkwardly for a moment, neither of us being particularly good at the whole admitting feelings thing.

"Your feelings are mutual." I said, cutting the silence. His eyes widened at me, a smile breaking on his features.

He put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer for a hug.

"How about we talk more about this over dinner once we’re done with the next two mountains?” He propositioned.

I groaned, “I forgot we still have two fucking mountains to go.” He laughed as I pouted.

He slid his hand up to my cheek, bringing his face closer to mine and connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss.

“This should give you something to look forward to” he said as he pulled away. It was my turn for my cheeks to turn pink. Despite how tired and sweaty we already were, he still looked absolutely perfect.

“I suppose I can make it through as long as you promise not to let me fall again.” He laughed.

“I’ll do my best.”

We walked downwards, eventually catching up with the others who had stopped for a water break.

“Finally you two made it! Began to think you two were shacking up up there!” ArthurTV exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at him, laughing.

“Not quite shacking up, but my challenge is complete.” George bragged, Chris’ head shot towards us at these words.

“No way.” He said, looking to me for confirmation.

“Yes way” I replied, George put his arm over my shoulder once again and we watched as the mental cogs turned in the other boys heads.

“Oh my god he finally got the balls to tell her!” Arthur Hill screamed, jumping around like a fangirl.

I looked to George who just shook his head in embarrassment. “Did everyone know except me?” I asked only loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I knew then that the next two mountains would likely be sex jokes and embarrassing stories, and I was weirdly looking forward to it.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Also posting on AO3 which you can find here.

Might have to take a few days off so I can catch up on some writing. I am very happy with the direction this story is taking. (If you couldn't tell, this is more of a slow burn piece because I can't imagine Jason as anything but someone who yearns.)

TW: Minor depictions of violence

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 5

You dropped your letter off the following morning before heading to your first class of the day. The first two weeks at Gotham University passed in a blur as you tried to orient yourself. You liked school when you were a kid. It distracted you from the harsh realities of the world. College was a different beast entirely, especially one as prestigious as this.

It was hard not to feel othered here. Other students came from old families, ones with money and prestige. You recognized some of their faces from interviews or social media. It was their seats that went vacant in class. They had nothing to prove. There were no consequences when you had money to throw at a problem.

You settled in your seat of your history class. From Goddesses to Witches: An Overview of Women’s History. With a title like that, how could you not sign up for it? There were a lot of cool classes here, and you wanted to take them all, but there were only so many hours in the day.

The blonde who usually sat on your right had already arrived. Her purple hoodie was branded with the University logo, though you don’t recall the school store selling purple apparel. She offered a friendly smile as you sat. You failed to return it as you sifted through your bag.

Sure, you wanted to make friends. It would be nice to find like-minded people who liked to discuss classic literature and the relevance of the oxford comma, but you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

Returning a smile might have been a smart move, but the moment had passed. Your table mate shifted her attention to her phone, so you decided to do the same.

A text awaited you from your manager: Rosa quit last night. I need you to come in tomorrow night to cover a party.

You suppressed a groan. Seriously? Rosa had wanted to quit for a while, but now it fell to you to pick up the slack. You shot back a quick text though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference: I have a night class.

Bubbles appeared instantly.

Shit.

His response was exactly what you expected: I wouldn’t be asking if we had options. I hired two new waiters that need a veteran to show them the ropes. You’re the best I have.

Flattery would get him nowhere, but you’d be stupid to turn down an extra shift—especially as an event lead. That role usually went to Rosa who had a kid to consider. Now, the title would shift to you, and the boost to your salary would reflect it.

With a defeated sigh, you replied: I’ll be there.

I’ll send you the details tonight. You’re a lifesaver, he shot back.

Hardly, but you weren’t about to argue. This decision was entirely selfish on your part. If you did this, you’d have a valid argument to ask for Christmas off in a few months.

Your professor arrived and class began. As she talked about your assigned reading, which you’d already finished and annotated the night prior, your mind wandered as you considered your options. Skipping one class wasn’t the end of the world. It was a philosophy class that didn’t count toward your major, but allowing this set a dangerous precedent. Your boss got what he wanted this time. What would stop him from trying again?

Some students might get away with skipping class, but you weren’t one of them.

Glancing back at the blonde, you noticed meticulous notes she’d started in glittery purple ink. She was also in your philosophy class, though you didn’t sit next to each other.

In hindsight, maybe you should have returned that smile.

Your fingers drummed the table. It’s not like you were asking for a lot if she was already taking notes. She might be cool to talk to, to hang out with. Friendships had blossomed for less.

Or maybe you were asking for too much?

Ask for notes and leave things there. After years of doing things for yourself, it felt like cheating to rely on the kindness of a stranger like this. Not to mention, you were a little rusty at making new friends. The ones you had came from work and the shared trauma of working in catering.

Do you even know how to make friends?

You warred with your pride until the professor dismissed you. The blonde hopped out of her chair, swung her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and hurried out before you mustered the courage to speak. You were moving before you realized it, abandoning your bag to hurry after her.

“Hey! You in the purple. Wait up.”

It wasn’t the best identifier, but she stopped anyway, peering over her shoulder. Her surprise gave way to something friendlier as she grinned. “That’s me.”

You approached, your heart pounding. “So, I hate to ask this, but I got called into work tomorrow night. Since you’re in my philosophy class, I was wondering if you could take notes for me?”

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she pulled out her phone, “What’s your number? I can text you a picture of them once class let’s out tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can just grab them when I see—”

“Don’t sweat it. Professor Edwin is an ass. He failed me last year because I slept through our final exam and refused to let me retake it for partial credit. Like, come on man, it’s not my fault I overslept. I’m not going to let anyone fall victim to his shit if I can help it.”

How did that make him an ass? You almost asked, but she shoved her phone in your face and continued, “I’m Steph, by the way. Pre-med.”

You introduced yourself as you punched your number into her phone. “Writing and Classics,” you offered as you handed her phone back.

“Radical.” She gave you a quick once over. “I’m thinking red.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what color I’ll write the notes in. Something about your aura just screams it, ya know?”

You did not. “Black ink is fine too.”

Steph looked at you like you had just suggested slaughtering a small child instead. “Absolutely not. Why would I do that when the world is such a colorful place? I know we live in Gotham, but that doesn’t mean we have to abstain from happiness.” Her phone beeped in her hand, and she gasped. “Crap, I gotta get to class, but I’ll send you a text later.” She hurried off, leaving you to stare after her in disbelief.

Huh.

Maybe making friends was easier than you thought.

***

Your manager failed to mention the party was at Wayne Manor.

Deep down, you knew it didn’t matter. You had catered dozens of his parties over the years, but that was before you accepted his money like a sellout. How working for him was any different, well, you weren’t exactly sure—it just was.

Anxiety bubbled in your belly as you lit the food warmers on the banquet table along the far wall of the sitting room. Every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder like you expected Bruce Wayne to step out of the shadows and yell at you for skipping class.

This was stupid. Bruce Wayne had no idea who you were beyond a name on an application. He didn’t care that you skipped class. Students skipped all the time. Hell, your first letter probably hadn’t even reached his desk.

Still, a small part of you disliked the power he had over you.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around to face the elderly butler who’d let you in that evening to set up. He quirked a wispy eyebrow, almost amused.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Master Wayne asked me to check in with your team to ensure you have everything you require.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you tucked your lighter away. “I’m good on the food end, but I should check with our bartender to make sure. How many guests are we expecting again?”

“Fifty, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

This was a more intimate affair than what you were used to, but intimate usually meant easy.

You tasked the new hires with preparing platters of hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen. They arrived in ill-fitting uniforms and messily knotted hair. They also seemed more interested in their phones than listening to you. If they made it through tonight, you’d be impressed.

Catering was lucrative, especially when the owner never turned a job down. Not a single one, even if the client was far from reputable. Staff turnover was unreal because of it, but you didn’t mind if you got paid at the end of the night (and the mob paid very well for discretion). You had a rule. Keep your head down and do your job. People largely ignored you as long as you did.

It was the same here, among the Gotham elite. No one looked at your face or bothered to learn your name.

You ducked inside the kitchen where Mark, the bartender, sorted through a crate of liquor. Several platters of half-finished hors d’oeuvres sat on the counter, but the new hires had disappeared.

Your eye twitched. “Where are they?”

Mark looked up from his crate. A few strands of strawberry blonde hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and held the pose to show off the carve of his bicep. It was a well-practiced motion that made the ladies swoon. You have been one of those ladies before you learned he used that move on everyone.

“They mentioned a smoke break and left out the back.”

You scoffed. “Great.”

“Starting to feel a little sympathy for Rose, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room to lay out the platters yourself. “Do you need anything? The butler asked.”

Mark whistled softly. “I wish I was rich enough to have a butler.”

“Who knows? You might finally get a sugar momma if you play your cards right.”

“That’s the goal. You could find yourself a sugar daddy if you tried.”

“Hard pass.” You’d accepted enough charity in your life. No one but the Red Hood knew about the scholarship, and you wanted to keep it that way. Accepting handouts went against your morals, and you didn’t want people calling you a hypocrite—even that was exactly what you were.

“I should go track those assholes down,” you grumbled as you finished one of the platters, “I don’t think they’ll last an hour.”

Mark snorted. “Have a little more faith. I bet they can make it to the end of the night.”

You wiped your palms off on the front of your apron. “I don’t bet on anything.”

“Lame.”

You left out the back door to search for your servers. What were their names again? Brian and Jon? That sounded right, but if it was wrong, you weren’t going to feel bad about it. They had spoken less than a dozen words to you since arriving at the manor. You rounded the corner to find one of them with a burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the other one?”

Jon/Brian (you couldn’t be pressed to tell them apart) glanced up from his phone, his blatant disregard for the job palpable. “Brendan took a lap to stretch his legs.”

Brendan. Fine. Brendan and Jon.

“He’ll have a chance to stretch his legs once the party begins. Find him and get your asses back inside.”

“Bitch,” he grunted as he flicked his cigarette at her feet. He stalked off to find Brendan.

Men, you seethed to yourself as you stomped out his cigarette.

At least Rosa was fun to talk to. That and she made sopaipillas for your birthday. Shame she had to go and quit on you.

You returned to the kitchen as the butler stepped inside. He noted the half-finished platters with an unimpressed sniff. “Would you like some help? Our guests are due to arrive any minute.”

Your shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that would be great.”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and you were counting down the hours before you could go home and work on your readings for class. You wove through the guests with a full platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts balanced in one hand. Some people grabbed them before you had a chance to offer, while others waited for you to present them with a vacant smile and a pleasant, “Would you like one?”

It was automatic at this point. You didn’t think. Jon and Brendan on the other hand…

You searched for them in the crowd, but it was difficult with all the bodies crammed in one room. Fifty people were just shy of too many people for the spacious sitting room, but no one else seemed to mind. You shared a look with Mark, who mixed drinks at the bar in the corner.

You motioned to the crowd, and he shrugged, already guessing your question. He hadn’t seen them either.

Perfect.

Your boss would have hell to pay in the morning because this was ridiculous.

A man knocked into your shoulder as he passed, nearly spilling your platter in the process. You swore as dove to save it. As you did, your attention snagged on familiar tattoo that painted the guest’s knuckles a deep crimson. You’d seen it before, but only ever on the east side and when you did, you knew it was time to run the other way.

A member of the Blood Knuckles—here at Wayne Manor.

Your mind raced as you made a beeline for the bar. Mark passed a glass of red wine to a woman with flushed cheeks. She giggled at nothing as she dropped a crisp twenty in his tip jar.

When she stumbled off to join her partner, you set your platter down and said, “Head back to the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Just do it. I can explain everything later. I need to find the—”

A shot went off behind you. Screams rippled through the crowd as you hit the ground. The Blood Knuckle stood with his back to you. He raised his gun to the ceiling, shards of crystal raining down from the chandelier. Three more men removed guns from their waistbands, each donning the brand of their gang.

 Bruce Wayne stood near the fireplace, a trembling hand raised as if he were soothing a wild beast. He wore his usual black on black, his jaw set with a severe expression as he stared the gun down its barrel. “Woah there,” he said as he tucked a younger boy behind his back, “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we. Well, not with most of you anyway.” He turned his attention to but an aging man in the corner with thinning hair. “Oscar Franz, our boss has business with you.”

Oscar staggered back, the color leeching from his face. “W-Who sent you?”

“Oh, I don’t kill and tell.” He leveled the gun at him. “But we have a few questions first.”

Your ears rang as you scanned the room, weighing your options. If only you’d noticed sooner, you might have gotten Mark and you out of the room before the Blood Knuckles revealed themselves. They usually kept to their territory, so seeing them this far outside of East Gotham unsettled you. They weren’t usually hitmen, and you weren’t too keen to watch a man die before your eyes tonight.

Slowly, you got to your feet and used one hand to flip your platter. It clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention away from the target. The hitman locked eyes with you, and you recognized him instantly.

Brendan—now dressed in a tuxedo to blend in with the guests. How had you missed the tattoo before? Did you even get a good look at his hands?

Your manager would hire gang members by accident. To think, you could have been having a deep philosophical discussion about morality and the error of humanity instead. Now, you had to face the reality of your morality as he trained the gun on you.

A laugh bubbled in your throat as you lifted your hands, feigning innocence. And here you thought he was just a shitty server. This made a lot more s—

You sensed someone behind, but it was too late. Jon cracked the butt of his gun on the back of your head and the world went dark.

[ficauthor]

Valerie is so interesting text wise in the Danny Phantom cannon.

She was rich but now she's poor. All basically overnight. She wasn't even particularly snobby compared to the other a-listers. but we watch in an instant how the life changes affects her. Her rapid decline in financial and social status was bc of a ghost dog. but overnight we also see her friends of many years reject her bc she cant go to a concert.

she takes it on the chin but seriously oof. that pain of her friends all ditching her must have been brutal its a huge display of her kindness that she continued to care about them even with that betrayal.

she's extremely socially adept, and very good at leveraging it. enough to trick Tucker into telling her details on ghost hunting.

She works at her local exploding McDonalds as a mascot. At any moment that place could blow because of its C4 sauce but she stays anyways because she's a hardworker, and is trying to help pay the bills.

Now she hates all ghosts because all of her life being ruined is because of one specific awful day. Vlad who's (and i can't stress this enough despite everyone knowing it) a ghost uses that very real trauma to gaslight her into trying to kill her boyfriend. she doesn't know its him but still. she tried to kill him and she's still likable/ nuanced/ complex enough that i can't even be mad.

she'd so caught up in protecting Danny that she doesn't know that she is trying to hurt him.

She also does it bc she believes it protects her dad. Her dad is a security officer he can protect himself but Valerie loves so fiercely it doesn't matter. she loves to her own detriment i'd argue.

in that alternate future we see her working with her dad to protect all of the town from Dark Dan. She never stopped trying to help people. Her number one priority is to always do what she thinks will keep people safe.

She'd very misguided about ghosts but considering the information available at the time it makes sense why she believes that ghosts are all bad.

.She's kind and smart and resourceful but always terrified. it's really easy to see that the way she goes about protecting including her motivations to do so, is all fueled by the fear that anyone's life could be ruined like hers was.

She's so caught up by it all that she breaks up with Danny because she thinks it is best for his wellbeing. she doesn't want his life ruined like hers was. she doesn't know that his was already turned upside and she's trying to make sure harm doesn't befall him.

Her entire life was twisted on its head bc of ghosts just like Danny's was. But circumstance lead her to try and kill them all. She's always in a state of survival juggling side jobs school and vigilantism.

She dated Danny for like a week tops and he became so instantly smitten to such a strong degree he ignored the murder attempts. He was so in love with her he wanted to give her a dorky old fashioned promise ring. he liked her that much! and it was all while she tried to kill him as Phantom! imagine how loveable you have to be for a person to disregard the murder attempts and somehow ignoring it is the correct thing to do.

The show makes it very clear that Valerie is one of Danny's biggest threats. More than Skulker, or Vlad or any of the normal ghost rotation. Not just bc he didn't want to hurt her either. she is genuinely so skilled motivated and quick on her feet that it gets Danny in trouble when they fight. seriously the way she learned the tech from Vlad in no time is majorly impressive. the way she adapted to technus' tech demonstrated a huge display of power and strength (in the Dark Dan timeline she's most likely the biggest factor in protecting the city from him. there are other people working to fight him but she's so powerful that it takes his worst weapon to take her down)

The way she foils him is so interesting. Danny is also often prone to try and shoulder the burden alone but he still always has people in his corner. that's why he turned in Dark Dan in that alternate timeline. the removal of his support made him lose his humanity.

But Valerie doesn't have that support system like him. yet it never consumes her like it does him. she is so interesting! it's just such a shame that the show never got a chance to expand that further.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Time is like a river (and fierce deity is straight up drowning in him)

Fanfic prompt :The good old horror of time using the ocarina or someone else using it is well known

But I think that it could get worse

Like for example if time hands the ocarina over to one of the other links

As they can turn back time for essentially eternity if they can mentally keep up (or not it would still work)

Them dying doesn’t actually make a difference

If legend for example after a literal eternity of looping back dies

What even changes ?

All that changes is the fact that someone else might take the ocarina to travel back in time

Now wind or warriors or any other link gets to do the exact same thing

But this character hasn’t lived the same memory of the first one even if legend told them that he comes from the future they literally can’t comprehend his memories because they haven’t lived them he could never hope to tell them Literally EVERY single outcome of all his attempts that physically could not be possible/especially if we included genuine eternities of looping back to fix stuff like making a list is not possible if it keeps going on for eternity

This eternal loop might actually be much worse because if legend dies then time (the construct) would be at square one

And legend's progress on finding ways to escape the loop would die with him

Who ever takes the ocarina next only needs to die once to get legend to take the ocarina back and he will be back with trying already long done methods again and again (he could never know that he did them already because he literally hasn’t yet by this point he will eternally be set to a very limited amount of options he will keep retrying and retrying and retrying endlessly)

The true horror in time travel is the possibility that you can’t escape because even if you know you are in one , you could have tried every option to ever exist and you wouldn’t even know how many times you tried it you cannot imagine something new if you keep losing the memory that you have already tried the past options

Because for all people think time is linear they don’t act like it is

If we think we will change the past if we fuck around and find out…

IF the timeline truly was linear then it would have already accounted for the fucking around with it and by assuming that you could potentially mess it up you SEVERELY limit your understanding and options

A good example is a river that flows down a mountain

No matter how hard you try to push it back it will just keep flowing down and continue on it will carve into the mountain and have its favored path

Trying to stop it with a dam only stops it for a while… at some point it overflows and it goes back to linearly flow downwards

Maybe the patterns it takes change a bit when you put your hand inside but the water downstream literally won’t be affected by you because it ALREADY is down there

To stop the stream in a way that truly stops it like pushing all the water back up even if you manage it the second you stop pushing it upstream it will just flow back into the carved out paths and the water is back at the bottom

To take a different option is literally impossible

You can’t try something you yourself are incapable of thinking about doing

Even if you try for eternity you are limited by your own mortality

If you are trapped then you are trapped (if you escape then you never where trapped in the first place)

The options are incredibly limited in time travel every time you forget you take them again

But now comes the part… that is genuinely terrifying to consider

The way majora's mask is defeated would be literally impossible without some entity that remembers every failure

Because we tend to suck at games (nobody can play a game without knowing how it works without dying at least once )

So every time link dies he is back to his limited amount of options with no memory of every having taken them, …

But we aren’t we can get better at the game and figure out stuff

Like fierce deity literally takes several cycles to get even if you never die

But realistically you couldn’t have known better if you didn’t know the game in some way (be it reading up a guide or trying it out )

But how can link know to try something in different ways or order whenever he dies

Like changing quests and figuring out where to go is not something that you can do on the first try

We are essentially the entity who has a collective of link's memory (I like to think that fierce deity is a representation of this collective memory)

So if time has the fierce deity to tell him to take another option (by force or otherwise)

He can break out because he can actually take another option

He might not even know that he is taking another option but he certainly can do so with the fierce deity's help

While the rest of the links are literally toddling around like kids indefinitely

Passing the ocarina back and forth not gaining any insight on how to get out the timeloop

Instead of retrying a certain set of options over and over again in repetition

Time could eventually use the fierce deity to get out the loop

If the option they need to escape isn’t figured out during the first loop where a character has their memory still

It literally won’t be figured out by the next loop or any other loop

Honestly that collective would totally make fierce deity’s actions and existence horrifying

It would literally have several millennia of the hero of time’s memory of past attempts and failures

Be it time biting the dust day one in majora’s mask twenty times over till it made him figure out stuff because it has the experience to do better or time retrying during linked universe for the five hundred time

He might not know just how often he had done that but the fierce deity surly does

And it’s gamer rage is totally justified because how often can someone suck at the same thing with losing their god damned mind

We as players tend to get incredibly frustrated when we fail over and over yet outright living the situation that link is in would be a completely different kind of painful because fierce deity wouldn’t just be looking at the happenings

[humusboii2thereturnoftheking]

Al Jazeera's Arabic documentary about the war in Gaza

I just watched a video by The Easy Way breaking down a brand-new Al Jazeera documentary released only five days ago. I’ll link both the documentary and the analysis below.

This documentary is significant for two reasons. First, it highlights the stark contrast between what Al Jazeera presents to Western audiences versus what it feeds its Arab and Muslim viewers. Second, despite being released just days ago, it has already amassed nearly 6 million views.

Let me first summarize what’s in the documentary (based on The Easy Way, whom I find to be a reliable source). If you’re impatient, feel free to skip down to my main point. If you want to watch the documentary and draw your own conclusions then know it has English subtitles

The so-called “documentary” exclusively pushes the Palestinian narrative, starting from October 7th and ending at the ceasefire. Here are some key takeaways:

Jewish communities are only referred to as “settlements,” despite not being located on disputed land.

The community emergency squads (Kitat Konenut, כיתת כוננות) are falsely depicted as “soldiers in civilian clothing” fighting against uniformed Hamas fighters.

The October 7th attack (Al-Aqsa Flood) is framed as a glorious Hamas victory, while Israel’s response is labeled “genocide.” The ceasefire is then framed, again, as another Hamas triumph.

Hamas fighters are glorified as honorable and moral, with most of the footage showing them attacking Israeli soldiers. When civilians are targeted, the footage is carefully edited to remove any actual harm. In the rare clips of Hamas inside Jewish communities, they claim they were “protecting” civilians while fighting the IDF.

The attack on Israel is spun as a preemptive strike, Hamas supposedly knew Israel was about to “destroy Gaza,” and by taking hostages, they miraculously stopped this imaginary plan.

Hostages are never called hostages, only “prisoners.” The film pushes the idea that every Israeli citizen is a permanent soldier because they once served in the IDF.

Al Jazeera uses Hamas footage but clumsily tries to remove the red triangle markers (which signal targets for execution). The triangles are still visible in parts of the video.

One of the most absurd claims? Hamas rescued Jewish civilians from the battlefield and took them to a “safe place” in Gaza.

The documentary portrays Yahya Sinwar as a fearless warrior who fought above ground against the IDF, even though there’s footage of him scurrying in tunnels.

It argues that Israel’s economic initiatives in Gaza were merely a deception to distract Palestinians while secretly plotting to destroy Al-Aqsa Mosque and rebuild the Third Temple. Ironically, this implies an acknowledgment that Israel actually helped Gaza’s economy.

Now, here’s why this matters:

I’ve spent the last year and a half debating people about this conflict. Most of the time, the people I argue with know shockingly little yet still parrot the Palestinian narrative they’ve been fed in English. But no one ever talks about how vastly different the Arabic narrative is.

Hamas portrayed as heroes who saved Jews? As masterminds who foresaw an “evil Zionist plot”? As victors at both the beginning and end, despite Gaza’s destruction? If Westerners saw even a third of this documentary, they’d be horrified (or at least that's what I hope. Copium, I know).

How can anyone still claim Palestinians are suffering when their own media frames them as triumphant? How can anyone scream “genocide” while Hamas itself boasts about winning?

It’s mind-blowing. I’ve had so many debates where people justify October 7th with “it didn’t happen in a vacuum” and go on about history and the chicken-and-egg argument. Meanwhile, Hamas is openly admitting: “We did this because the evil Zionists were planning to exterminate us.”

How can Westerners keep defending Hamas when Hamas itself tells an entirely different story in Arabic?

I’m honestly stunned.

Here are the links for the videos, let me know what you think

Al Jazeera's New Gaza Documentary Is Crazy - YouTube - "The Easy Way" commentary

ما خفي أعظم.. الطوفان - YouTube - the Al Jazeera documentary

[marias-new-blog-ig]

Captain underpants characters as things that happened to me at school

George - Being forced to write lines in detention but getting super bored so I tried to hold as many pens as physically possible in one hand and write with them all at once which only made the handwriting even more atrocious than it already was so I had to write the lines all over again

Harold - Teacher asking me "how can you be so good at drawing but have such awful handwriting?"

Melvin - My classical studies teacher calling me a nerd and telling me to go away and talk to my friends because I was annoying her with how much I was yapping about the field trip we were going on (classical antiquity was my hyperfixation at the time and I was a bit over-excited to learn)

Mr. Krupp - Teacher forcing me to go through my entire workbook with correction fluid and whiteout every single little drawing and doodle I'd done in it. She wasn't even my teacher.

Captain Underpants - Playing around with my chair in class and SOMEHOW ending up getting my head and arms stuck in the gap between the seat and the backrest so the teacher had to physically pull me out of it

Professor Poopypants - When I was literally BLEEDING out of a big cut on my arm during a science exam and my science teacher made me wait until after the exam was finished to go to the nurse so my test paper had a bunch of blood stains on it (and I failed anyway so what was even the point)

Edith - My friend trying to do the cup song with a pottle of yogurt at lunchtime and when she smacked it on the ground it exploded and we all got covered in yogurt

Kipper - Getting in a fight with a classmate and giving him a black eye so the school called my parents and when I got home my dad was like "Did you give some kid a black eye today?... Good on you! I'm so proud of you" (I DO NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE BTW i was like 10 when this happened)

Ms. Ribble (before she became nice) - Random teacher I didn't even know screaming at me and taking a photo of me on his phone without my permission just because I was wearing a bracelet

Mr. Meaner - The whole class trying to figure out how old our teacher was by asking evasive questions and someone asked "how old were you when they landed on the moon?" to which she replied; "Oh you guys don't really believe they landed on the moon, do you?" so we spent the next 30 minutes arguing with her about whether or not the moon landing was fake

Ms. Calculator - Teacher laughing at me and calling me stupid in front of the whole class because I answered a math question wrong

Harold (again) - Teacher throwing my workbook at me because I drew a picture of a bird on one page

George - Getting told off for feeding the seagulls at lunchtime and attracting a huge crowd of like 80 seagulls into the courtyard

Captain Underpants - Learning how to make balloon animals for an art class project so I decided to practice in the library one day during my free period but it was super quiet so in the near silence of the library you could just hear the sound of balloons squeaking and my friends desperately trying not to piss themselves with laughter

[frostnscars]

In a world that seemed to turn its face so often toward harshness, Bragi’s kindness was a soothing balm—his words and offers of help a relief that eased the weight on her shoulders. He understood the toll the forge took on their bodies, and in ways that few could, he had become as close to family as one could be without the binding of blood. She smiled then, a soft curve of her lips, and nodded, grateful for his offer. Now that the boy’s true father was gone, she knew the presence of a strong, steady man in his life would be a gift. Her love for the boy was endless, but there were things she could not give. And with thoughts of remarrying far from her heart, Bragi’s presence—though fleeting—was a comfort. “I’m glad they come to your shop from time to time,” she said, “as long as you don’t mind their company. And I would gladly accept your offer. Sten would be proud to know you helped me craft his first blade.”

She bit her lip then, gnawing at the already frayed skin in a quiet, unconscious motion, hoping it would go unnoticed. But Bragi’s gaze—clear and blue like azurite —caught hers. Her breath caught, and the words he spoke only unsettled her further. His mention of the death of the high jarl bringing ghosts to return to the living—made her skin prickle with unease. There had been moments, long ones, when she wondered if she herself was even truly alive, or if she wandered in some liminal space, caught between worlds, where creatures beyond understanding held sway over what could be seen and felt. How she longed to tell someone of this but fear kept her silent. She could not risk everything she had fought to rebuild by speaking the truths she kept locked inside.

“I share your fear,” she said, her voice low to keep the conversation private. “There are many who come to this gathering—perhaps some whom others believed lost will return. The axes of battle are buried if only for a short period of time, allowing a chance at peace.” She looked out then, her eyes tracing the faces of the strangers who surrounded them, each one hiding a thousand untold stories behind their eyes. “We are not people of prophecy, Vinr, but of strength and steel. Perhaps it is just your mind playing tricks…” She tried to make it sound convincing, even as doubt gnawed at her. Would he turn away from her if she told him of the quiet faith that lived in her heart, a faith she kept hidden, like the deep waters that had held her?

A soft sigh slipped from her lips, the sound almost lost in the bustle of the crowd. “I can only pray that your feeling is wrong, for I fear the day it may come true.”

wise  beyond  her  years  and  without  a  doubt  filled  with  willpower  the  valkyries  themselves  would  slaughter  to  achieve.  she  had  survived  so  much,  offered  everything,  and  been  given�� nothing.  survived  blades  and  oceans  to  see  her  children  again  only  to  be  judged  for  wanting  justice  for  herself  and  them.  her  sons  often  visited  him  in  his  forge,  curious  about  the  world  and  everything  they  held.  however,  her  mention  of  their  father's  darkness  was  enough  for  his  teeth  to  clench.  for  even  if  he  did  not  wish  harm  upon  those  he  cared  for,  he  also  had  some  sort  of  darkness  boiling  inside  of  him,  slithering  around  like  it  was  coiling  around  his  very  being  ⸻  shaping  him  into  something  grotesque  and  cruel  which  had  no  place  to  be  in  who  he  truly  was.

"  if  you  need  anything  let  me  help  you  prepare  it,  the  boys  do  come  by  from  time  to  time  and  I  wouldn't  mind  helping  you  make  something  for  them.  "  when  she  was  gone,  he  was  their  closest  source  of  safety.  their  father  lacking  all  restraint  and  understanding  so  of  course  he  had  stepped  forward.  azurite  hues  turn  from  blazing  flames  only  to  find  deep  oceans  in  dagny's  eyes.  had  she  brought  the  ocean  back  with  her  ?  "  everything.  "  he  murmured  under  his  breath  before  averting  his  gaze  once  more.  "  it  is  like  the  death  of  strykar  is  bringing  ghosts  back  into  our  lives,  some  good  and  some  bad.  "  a  sigh  escapes  and  palm  runs  through  blonde  locks.  "  I  have  this  unnerving  feeling  that  this  is  the  beginning  of  the  end,  Ragnarok  might  as  well  be  upon  us.  "

[caramelstupid]

Uuuuugh a buddy of mine wants to read the lord of the rings in english (i think he got the german Version. He also has never managed to sit through a Single movie. Fuck off) (I got him a spotify link and the substack link!!!! Options!!! Free even!!!) But he kinda invited himself over to go get MY personal Edition and i didnt know how to say no and. Now he has my edition of lotr and i want it BACK do i just buy him one as a late christmas present. Like no sir thats my book qwq u will take forever to read it cause like u dont read. Give it back thats my 50 years special Hardcover U WONT EVEN APPRECIATE IT AAAAAAH. I never lend out books because people have a terrible track record and now someone has my favourite book and i HATE it but also. How do i get it back. And when. In a year????? How do i get it back without sounding like a complete asshole or toddler. Sir please learn to read social cues i was visibly UNHAPPY dont do that qwq

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

My mom always complaining about how I never spend time with her.... ma'am the last time we had a serious conversation you told me you thought i was making traumatic memories of my childhood up just to demonize you

[higuchisora]

Can I say that I didn't really like the Seven of prophecy as a group and felt like their only value as characters from a writing standpoint is to add diversity to the PJO series and that they don't really feel necessary without the rep they add and some of them feel purely constructed to fill archetypal roles/tropes instead of being constructed as whole characters with an actual function in the narrative that no other character could fill or will I be sacrificed at the stake for it

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends? — Part Three

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel’s attempts at an apology fall short, Cassian’s advice backfires, and confrontations force both you and Azriel to face uncomfortable truths—though not the same ones.

Warnings: angst. a heavy grudge, a male incapable of owning up to his mistakes, a well-meaning but wrong-steering best friend, verbal fighting, physical fighting, brief mentions of blood

Word Count: 8.5k

this was going to be two parts but... for the drama, ive decided to offer a feast and not just a meal

Part Two ┃ Series Masterlist ┃ Part Four

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel hadn’t meant to let it sit for this long. 

His shadows had been needling him for days, hissing reminders at the edge of his mind: Fix this. He intended to. He just didn’t know how. There were too many eyes on him now, too many people that expected his great, grand apology. 

It was hard to focus on anything else.  Even when he was with Selene, her words barely touched him. His mind was consumed by the unease that gnawed at him, the constant pull of you, somewhere, still angry over what had happened.

Azriel wanted to ask Selene about her words. Why they’d taken root in his mind, why he’d echoed them back to you. But he didn’t. He let Selene talk, smiled when she asked for his opinion, and tried to let the softness of her lips on his drown out the unease.

He didn’t know exactly why it felt so much harder with you— felt harder to argue, felt even harder to apologize. Everything else in his life, every delicate situation, every broken, jagged thing, he could attempt to handle with steady hands. But you—every time he stepped near you lately, it felt like stepping onto unstable ground. One wrong move, and everything shifted beneath him.

His shadows had made sure to remind him, trailing after you through the house, feeding him fragments of your clipped words to Mor, the slam of a cabinet door when you thought no one was paying attention. They weren’t even subtle about it anymore, curling around his ears like smoke, whispering your whereabouts.

He’d tried small things—leaving you treats, a smoothie for breakfast, or a croissant on a plate with your name carefully written on a napkin. But every time he returned to check, they were untouched. Once, he found the croissant flattened and crumpled, as if you’d squeezed it with a tight fist before tossing it back onto the plate. His shadows confirmed you were angry that night, their murmurs suggesting no coincidence in your evening spent with Mor.

Since then, every instinct told him to stay away and retreat, to wait until he’d figured out the right thing to say instead of stumbling through this mess. But waiting had gotten him here, hadn’t it? And now he was scrambling to undo weeks of silence. He thought, maybe, he should have something written out. Something properly planned, so that he knew what he wanted to tell you. But every time he thought about what to say, his mind came up blank. After hours of failure, he’d convinced himself that, with you, it would come naturally. It always had.

Or, at least, that’s what he kept repeating as he made his way downstairs, finding you in the kitchen.

You didn’t look up right away, but you knew he was there. 

“Are you sure you want to be in here without a chaperone?” you said, slicing into an apple slowly. “What if something happens?”

Shadows swirled around his shoulders. Angry, they whispered. As if he didn’t already know.

“Stop,” Azriel said. “Can we just... stop with the comments. Please.”

“Why?” You said, finally tossing a glance his way. “Is it bothering you?”

The look on your face was nothing like he expected. It wasn’t just anger. It was exhaustion, too. He didn’t like it, the way the shadows under your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders spoke louder than anything you’d said to him in days. Didn’t like that he’d probably been the one to put that exhaustion there.

“Yes,” Azriel finally responded. “It is bothering me.”

You let out a laugh, something low and humorless, and it twisted in his chest. Should he  apologize for making you lose sleep, too? He’d already failed at the rest of it—what was one more thing to add to the pile?

Azriel cleared his throat. “Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk?”

His fists clenched at his sides. The familiar burn of frustration, the heat of guilt, rose up his throat.  “How was I supposed to talk to you before when you’d just ignore me or say something snarky and leave?”

You stilled at his words and Azriel was almost tempted to embrace the small flicker of relief he felt. He should have apologized sooner, yes, but you had been avoiding him fervently. He convinced himself he wouldn’t have been able to apologize before now, anyways. 

“Okay,” you said, setting the knife down and leaning against the counter. “Well, I’m here now. So what do you want to say?”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to the knife instinctively. It was far enough from your hand that he probably didn’t need to worry. Probably. Not that he thought you’d do anything—though there was that one time Cassian had nearly stabbed him with a butter knife. He’d been significantly less angry than you were now. The memory did nothing to ease Azriel’s nerves. He pushed the image away.

This was it—his chance to fix things. To say all the things he’d been rehearsing in his head. But the words didn’t come. Instead, he found himself saying, “How was the meeting with Keir?”

The second the words left his mouth, he wanted to grab them out of the air and shove them back down his throat.  He could see it in the way your expression shifted—something sharp and disbelieving cutting across your face. Azriel didn’t need his shadows to tell him he’d screwed up again. The words had barely landed, and already he was bracing for the fallout.

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

Azriel froze. His shadows curled tighter around him. Stupid, stupid. He swallowed, desperately trying to correct it. There was no going back. “Rhys said I should expect some tension at the next meeting. I wanted the full picture.”

“The full picture?” You repeated darkly.  “Well the full picture wasn’t great, Azriel. Because you weren’t there. And because I was pissed—because of you.”

Azriel nodded, swallowing hard. Idiot. “Right. I shouldn’t have asked that. I should’ve—” He stopped himself. No, he couldn’t fix that now. He needed to focus on what mattered.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally, the words leaving his mouth like rocks tumbling down a hill. He hated the way it sounded—weak, like he didn’t mean it. But he did. He just didn’t know how to make you believe it. Azriel continued, the apology already unraveling in his head. “For how you feel.”

“Oh,” you said softly, but there was a thick sarcasm in your voice. “You’re sorry for how I feel?”

Azriel rushed to correct himself. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what did you mean?” You shook your head, letting out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Do you even know what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you sorry for?”

Azriel cursed himself for the hundredth time. Why was this so hard?

Because it was you, he heard his own voice reply, because he couldn’t bear the thought of failing you again. He knew he was failing—knew it in the sharp edge of your voice and the way your eyes narrowed every time he opened his mouth. And still, the right thing to say stayed maddeningly out of reach.

“I’m sorry that your feelings got hurt.”

His shadows slowly loosened, trailing down his body like they didn’t want to be associated with him anymore. He didn’t blame them. You blinked slowly at him, that look of exhaustion softening your features.

“That’s not an apology, Azriel. That’s—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “You know what? Nevermind.”

Azriel was transported back to the night of the fight, remembering how you’d said similar words then, too. He tried to salvage it again, but you were already moving, wiping the cutting board with a hurried motion. You didn’t notice as your apple, barely sliced, rolled off the counter’s edge. His shadows were there almost instantly, catching the fruit before it fell.

You reached out, and for a brief moment, your shoulders softened as you grabbed it from their hold.

“Where are you going?” Azriel asked. He wondered if his voice sounded as desperate as he felt. As frustrated.

“To train with Cassian,” you replied, still not looking at him. Your hand paused on the counter, and you glanced over your shoulder. “Do you think I should stop by Nesta first? Make sure she’s okay with me being around her mate? I wouldn’t want to ruin their relationship too.”

Azriel’s chest tightened. “Can we stop this?”

“No,” you replied swiftly, and Az could have sworn he heard a crack in your voice. 

And then the silence stretched. You ate the small slices of apple as you put things away, the quiet dragging on as he stood there, still unable to speak. Finally, you stopped and looked at him. He tried to offer a smile, something to soften the weight in the air. But you just frowned.

“Did you expect to wait this out? Wait until I got over it?”

Azriel shook his head, his voice low. “No. I never thought that. I just—”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You stared at him for a long moment, like you were seeing him for the first time, and the disappointment in your gaze made his chest feel tight. He should have been able to find the right words. But it didn’t matter anymore, not in this moment, not as you let out a small, bitter laugh, nodding as if something inside you had finally broken. 

“Always so afraid of saying the wrong thing that you never say the right one.”

Azriel opened his mouth, desperate to correct himself, to make it right, but the words just wouldn’t come. He had never considered that before—at least, not with you. He’d never thought he needed to say the right things, never cared enough to learn how.

“I never realized how much of an asshole you could be,” you said, with a final, almost dismissive glance. “I guess some females are into that.”

And then you were gone.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Training couldn’t have come at a better time.

You needed to hit something—needed to feel that release. Not in a petty, frustrated way, like slamming your fist into a wall, but in the desperate, raw way that left you aching. It was the only way to escape your frustration and, maybe, remind yourself that you were still you, despite how Azriel made you feel.

And for a while, it worked.

Cassian had spent centuries mastering the language of battle, the unspoken rhythm of war. He could read the tension in a stance, spot when someone's body didn’t follow through with the mind’s intentions. He didn’t get enough credit for it, you thought, his ability to read someone without words. He was looking at you now, with that critical eye, head tilted slightly, like he was waiting for you to crack. 

“Alright,” Cassian grunted as he parried another strike. “What’s on your mind?”

You ducked beneath his swing. “Nothing,” you said, deflecting the question with a swipe of your sword. Too fast, too aggressive.

Cassian dodged it easily, raising a brow. “Right. Because ‘nothing’ is exactly what makes you swing like you’re trying to decapitate me.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but you didn’t laugh. You weren’t in the mood for his teasing, no matter how good-natured it was.

“It’s nothing. Seriously.”

He rested the flat of his blade against his shoulder.  “Come on, spit it out before you take my head off for real. I’ll pester you all day.”

You sighed, pacing a few steps away. He’d wait. He definitely would. And there wasn’t much point in pretending anymore—he clearly knew you weren’t fine. Continuing to train like this was useless when your head was so unfocused. Avoiding the topic wasn’t helping either. At this point, everyone knew what was going on. Hell, they all seemed more bothered by it than Azriel.

Still, you’d been dodging these conversations. Talking about it felt...stupid. Saying it out loud would make it real—all the messy, painful feelings you’d been shoving down would be out there, staring back at you like some pitiful mirror. Your conversation with Azriel this morning had only made your bitterness stronger.

But Cassian was watching you, expecting, and it was nice, in a way. Having someone care this much. Maybe it would be easier to talk to him. Mor had helped, sure, but her comfort recently came in the form of dragging Azriel through the dirt. It didn’t actually solve anything.

"It’s this stupid thing with Az," you muttered finally. "I’m starting to feel like he doesn’t actually care about me." 

Cassian leaned on the hilt of his sword. “Well, that’s not true.”

You leveled him with a stare, your body tensing as a surge of frustration ran through you, hot and heavy. “It isn’t? He talked to me for the first time today and didn’t even apologize. Not properly. Just asked about Keir.”

Cassian’s expression softened. “He gets wrapped up in his own head about things. Probably just embarrassed, you know? Doesn’t know how to approach the situation.”

You’d run that possibility through your mind a hundred times. Mor had even said it herself. But it didn’t help with the ache, the anger. It was hard to believe your spymaster—so fearless, so eager to throw himself into the fire—was struggling to talk to a friend. Out of all the hard things Azriel had done, surely a simple apology wasn’t beyond him. You’d forgiven him for so much, had let things go because he was your friend. But you were tired of letting it go. He had the perfect opportunity to apologize, to properly acknowledge how he’d hurt you, and he hadn’t taken it.

“Embarrassed by what? Accusing his friend of something so absurd?”

Cassian tilted his head in subtle agreement, like he too thought the word absurd was right for the situation. “I think Az doesn’t want to be seen as...whatever he thinks people see him as. Like he’s incompetent in love. Or that he can’t handle his shit.” He rolled his shoulders, sighing. “He’s defensive. When he’s cornered, he reacts badly. It’s not about you, Y/n. You know that, right?”

You knew that. Of course you did. But it didn’t feel like a proper explanation this time. It didn’t feel like enough.

“But it feels like it is about me. He listened to her. He took her word, over mine." Your fists clenched involuntarily. "And the way he acted—like I wasn’t worth considering, like my opinion doesn’t matter. I’ve known him for centuries. She—" You paused, taking a breath, "She’s barely been in his life. And he immediately assumes that my care for him is because I just want something from him. That it’s some selfish, self-serving thing. His whole job is to see through lies, Cass. He didn’t even second-guess her.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t actually see it like that. He probably just reacted out of instinct. It’s Azriel, Y/n, he’s complicated. "

“Shit, Cass, way to play sides.”

Cassian sighed, stepping closer. “I’m not playing sides. I’m trying to help. Az makes stupid decisions. Half the time, I don’t think he even understands why. I don’t want you driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. It’s not worth it.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” you snapped. “Just wait it out? Move on? That’s not happening.”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and guilt pricked at the edges of your conscience. This wasn’t Cassian’s fault—he didn’t have to ask, didn’t have to care. But lately, your anger over everything—over Az—felt like a thorn lodged so deeply under your skin that the irritation seeped into everything. You were struggling to control it.

It was a small blessing there weren’t any court matters to handle for the time being. Rhys was likely still preoccupied with Keir’s incessant whining about your last outburst.

Still, it felt like acid rising in your throat, a bitter burn you couldn’t swallow down, even as Cassian opened his mouth to respond. The words were spilling out of you before he could say anything.

“I’m not even mad about this one fight anymore,” you started, the grip on your sword slipping as your fingers unfurled. The blade clattered to the ground, the sound loud enough to make Cassian flinch. “It’s everything. All of it. He never apologizes for anything—have you noticed that? Like, ever. And I’ve let it slide because that’s just Azriel, right? Quiet, brooding Azriel, who’s somehow above—”

Cassian raised a palm out. “Alright, alright, stop,” he said. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy. It’s not worth it.”

You exhaled sharply, realizing you were halfway to a full-blown rant.

He stepped closer, giving you a knowing look. “Listen, you can’t force him to apologize properly. You just...can’t. You have to let him come to it on his own.”

Your teeth clenched. “I shouldn’t have to.”

Cassian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I agree. Believe me, I agree. But until he figures his shit out, maybe we focus on what you can change.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. What else is bothering you?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “It would be easier to list what isn’t bothering me right now.”

Cassian tilted his head again, considering. “Does it bother you that Selene sees you as competition?”

You blew a strand of hair out of your face. Did it bother you?

Azriel had believed her instantly—disregarded you with a swiftness that stung. He’d accused you of selfishness, of something you’d never been with him. But Selene’s opinion of you, the thoughts she’d planted in his mind, those bothered you too. You hadn’t realized it until now.

She didn’t know you.

And yet, her words had curled under your skin, sitting heavy and raw, making you ache in a quiet, tired way. Worse, they’d made you overthink every interaction with Azriel since. You’d spent so much of your life trying to be the diplomat, choosing empathy even when it sucked—when it drained you. You wanted to like Selene—gods, you wanted to like the people Azriel cared for, even when it felt impossible. But she hadn’t even given you the time of day.

“I don’t like that I’ve been vilified somehow,” you admitted with a frown. “I don’t want to feel like I’m fighting for his attention or validation. It’s not like that.”

Cassian gave a small, knowing smile. “I know it’s not.”

“It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” 

He paused, clearly mulling something over, then asked, “Do you want to hear what I think?”

You gave him a wary look. “I feel like you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Correct,” he said, grinning. Then he sobered. “Az aside...I think Selene’s reaction makes sense.”

You blinked at him, incredulous. Was he serious right now? A sharp heat rose in your chest. “Okay, well, that’s clearly choosing sides—”

“Hear me out,” Cassian said quickly. “I mean, look at you, Y/n. I’d be jealous of you too if I were her. You’re beautiful, smart, someone Azriel deeply cares for. Hell, I’d probably be a mess.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “So, because I’m so wonderful, I’m responsible for her insecurities?” you asked dryly, arching a brow.

Cassian shook his head. “No. What I’m saying is that this might be the one aspect of the situation you can change. The one thing you have control over. Maybe talking to her would help. Clear the air.”

You mulled over his suggestion. Maybe he had a point. Maybe talking to Selene would help. Not just to ease the tension, but to give Azriel room to come to you—to clear the air between you both. If you did this—if you took the first step—maybe he’d finally take you seriously. Apologize for dismissing you so easily, so carelessly. You could find a way to move on, comfortably, with Selene in his life. Right?

It wasn’t like the situation could get any worse.

"Okay," you murmured, more to yourself than to him. "Yeah. Maybe I’ll talk to her."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian was waiting for Azriel as he stepped out of the townhome, his massive frame leaning against the railing. One glance at the general was enough to confirm it: Cassian wasn’t there to exchange pleasantries. No—Cassian stood with his arms crossed, his wings partially flared, exuding the barely-contained anger Azriel recognized all too well.

“We need to talk,” Cassian said.

Azriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He tightened his fists, shadows curling around them instinctively, obscuring his hands from view. Not now. Not tonight. He had no energy for this—not for Cassian’s righteousness or whatever lecture he’d come prepared to deliver.

“I’m not in the mood, Cass,” he said flatly, brushing past him.

“Too bad.” Cassian stepped into his path, blocking him with ease. “I didn’t endure an hour of Mor yelling at me for you to decide you can’t have a conversation.”

Azriel paused, his brow furrowing. “Why was Mor yelling at you?”

Cassian crossed his arms. “Because of you.”

“Great,” Az muttered. “What have I done now?”

“I gave Y/n some advice that, in hindsight, wasn’t great. Mor made the situation a lot clearer for me. Now I’m here to make sure you clean up your mess before anyone else slips.”

The mention of your name made Azriel’s chest ache in a way that felt too raw. He’d told himself he wouldn’t think about you tonight—not your voice, not your expression when he’d spoken to you this morning. But here was Cassian, dragging it all to the surface like a wound being forced open.

“I don’t think this is any of your concern,” Azriel said coldly, stepping around Cassian in a last-ditch effort to leave.

Cassian didn’t budge, spinning on his heel and following. “It is my concern because you’re my friend. And Y/n is my friend.”

Azriel could feel his shadows tighten their hold, whispering, urging him to end this. He wasn’t sure if they meant the conversation with Cassian or the situation entirely. Azriel could only control one of those.

“Cass, leave it alone,” he said, his voice low, barely masking the warning there.

“No,” Cassian responded immediately. “You did something shitty and you need to own up to it, Az.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “Sometimes friends fight,” he ground out. “Sometimes we get on each other’s nerves, like you’re getting on mine now. It’ll settle.”

“This isn’t going to ‘settle.’” Cassian’s voice rose. “You didn’t just get on her nerves—you offended her.”

The words hit harder than Azriel had anticipated.

“Because the idea of having feelings for me is so offensive? Am I that repulsive?”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, the question jagged, biting. He hadn’t meant to say that. He wasn’t sure where it had come from. 

Cassian blinked, his anger giving way to confusion for a moment before his brow furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about? Don’t twist this into something it isn’t.”

Azriel’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of heat creeping up his neck. His outburst had come from nowhere, and now, Cassian’s eyes were full of confusion and something else—something close to pity. Azriel felt small under it, a flush of embarrassment prickling down his body. He wanted to look away, to escape.

He needed to leave.

Think later. Process later. Just get out of here.

Azriel squared his shoulders, forcing himself to meet Cassian’s gaze with as much indifference as he could muster. “Are you done now? Selene is waiting for me.”

Cassian stepped closer, his wings flaring in frustration. “Selene can deal with a few lost minutes of Azriel time. We’re talking.”

“No,” Azriel said, voice flat, his gaze turning icy. “You’re talking. I’m leaving.”

He moved to step past Cassian, but the larger male blocked him again.

“Is this some weird self-pity thing?” Cassian demanded, his tone growing sharper. “Thinking you’re not worth being forgiven so you don’t even try?”

Those words hit a nerve. 

Azriel’s anger sparked instantly, snapping through his ribs like a whip. He couldn’t decide if it was directed at Cassian or himself. But Cassian didn’t understand. None of them did.

“Cass, just let it go.”

“No,” Cassian shot back. “You always do this. You make decisions that are selfish. You push people away because you think it’s easier, and it’s not. It’s bullshit.”

It wasn’t easier—it was never easier. But what was Azriel supposed to say? That it was better than risking more damage? That every decision he made, no matter how distant or cold, was the only way he knew how to protect the people he cared about?

“Cassian—”

The slap came out of nowhere.

Azriel’s head snapped to the side, his shadows scattering in shock before reforming around him. Slowly, he turned back to Cassian, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?”

“Sorry,” Cassian said flatly. “Must’ve been the wind.”

Azriel’s lip curled. He opened his mouth to respond, but a second slap landed, harder this time.

“Would you stop that?” Azriel growled, his wings flaring slightly, the shadows around him vibrating with his tone. “Don’t touch me.”

Cassian stepped closer. “Why?” he asked, mockingly. “This is what you deserve, right? If you’re so terrible.”

The third slap was the breaking point.

Azriel’s fist flew, connecting with Cassian’s jaw in a blur of movement. The force sent Cassian stumbling back a step, but he recovered quickly, his retaliation swift—a sharp uppercut to Azriel’s ribs.

They fought like brothers—wild, messy. Not about technique, but about something else. Azriel wasn’t sure why Cassian needed this release, but he could feel it—the desperate need behind every punch. And Azriel… Azriel didn’t realize it at first, but he needed it too.

He was an Illyrian, no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise. Fighting cleared his mind. Whatever Cassian was trying to achieve, whatever he needed to prove, it was working.

Azriel barely registered the sting of each hit. The ache in his ribs, the burn in his muscles—it all blurred into the same tight, unrelenting pressure in his chest. Like there was no room left for air, for thought, for the gnawing guilt that had dug its claws into him and refused to let go. Cassian tackled him to the ground, pinning him, both of them struggling for breath.

“This is stupid!”

“I agree,” Azriel spat, shoving him off. “Get off me.”

“No, you!” Cassian said, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re stupid.”

Azriel sat up slowly, chest heaving as his shadows curled protectively around him. 

Cassian shook his head, wiping blood from his lip. “You’re better than this, Az. So be better and properly fuckin’ apologize. If not for you, for me—so my mate will stop glaring at me every time I say your name.”

Azriel’s gaze dropped to the ground, the weight of Cassian’s words sinking into him like a slow burn. His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing. Offered nothing. 

Cassian didn’t stop. “Gods know Y/n has done enough for you. Put up with enough. We’ve all done shitty things. But you know what? You take the hit, you own it, and you try to be better. You can’t lead with self-loathing forever.”

Azriel sat there longer than necessary, long after Cassian had walked away. People passed by—some casting glances his way, most not bothering to look at all—but he didn’t move. Didn’t feel the flicker of shame he might’ve once felt at sitting there, bloodied and bruised, shadows curling restlessly around him.

The sting in his cheekbone from Cassian’s knuckles pulsed dully, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the gnawing thoughts taking root.

Maybe it wasn’t the fear of you rejecting his apology that held him back. Maybe it was the fear that you wouldn’t.

That you’d accept it. 

That somehow, he’d manage to make it up to you. That things would settle for a while, until he inevitably did something worse. Something irreparable.

He was terrified of succeeding—of pulling you back in, of you continuing to see something in him that he wasn’t. That you’d keep believing in this illusion, this version of him he’d somehow convinced you existed.

For centuries, it felt like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable—waiting for you to see him as he truly was. And if he made this right, if you forgave him, it would only give him more time to fail you again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were walking without a proper destination in mind.

You’d never been to it, but Azriel had once mentioned that Selene worked at a flower shop near the Palace of Thread and Jewels. He’d first run into her on one of his free days, when he’d stopped by a few of his favorite parts in the city.

This area made sense. It was near his usual route, tucked away in a cozy corner of the city. As the scent of flowers suddenly enveloped you, you heard Selene’s unmistakable voice. Relief surged through you; you’d found the right place. 

You thought back to your conversation with Cassian. You knew you weren’t in the wrong, that this current visit wasn’t expected of you. But it was something you could control. You’d wanted to get to know Selene better anyway. You prepared yourself, putting on a smile and stepping towards the door, but then—

“I mean, is he really worth all that effort?”

This was a voice you didn’t recognize. It curled around you, something about it making your stomach clench. 

A small sigh. “Azriel?”

This time, the voice belonged to Selene. You froze, rooted to the spot. Any inclination to quit eavesdropping washed away at the sound of his name. You felt a tightness in your chest—an almost primal urge to run in there, to stop the conversation before it even began. 

“Yeah,” the second voice pressed, “He’s a freak, Sel. Hot, sure, but a total freak. And so intense all the time.”

For a moment, there was silence. And then, Selene’s voice, almost reluctant, like she was holding back. “Well—”

Her friend interrupted. “And those shadows? Don’t they freak you out?”

A sound of disgust, maybe a shiver, followed her words. Something cold rushed through you, crawling beneath your skin, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether you wanted to shout or run. Or maybe both. Anger churned in your gut, and the calm, composed facade you’d been carefully maintaining on the walk here began to crack, slipping away piece by piece. 

“Hey, knock it off,” Selene replied, her voice soft.  “He surprises you. He’s sweet. He makes me happy.”

Her friend snorted. “Has it been an ego boost for you, then?”

“I mean, yeah,” Selene admitted quietly. “But that’s not all of it. Things with him actually aren’t… great right now. He canceled on me again tonight. I think it’s because he had some kind of fight with Y/n.”

The mention of your name stole the breath from your chest, and your body constricted almost involuntarily. 

Her friend’s voice was full of disbelief as she asked, “He actually told you?”

“No,” Selene said softly, “I—I heard them. I feel really bad, but…”

The next sound was unmistakable—the sharp intake of breath from her friend, a squeal of sorts.

“Did you actually use the listening charm I gave you? You little min—”

Something snapped in you as the words registered. A listening charm. A strange, gross invasion of privacy. And to think you had felt bad standing here, eavesdropping on their conversation in a public store, of all places. You’d been this close to giving her the benefit of the doubt.

You stormed into the shop, the door slamming behind you, and both voices froze. You barely registered Selene’s friend’s wide-eyed realization, the quiet “Oh shit” leaving her lips as she turned toward Selene.

Your focus was on Selene—on her and no one else. She stood there, an image of calm beauty that twisted something deep inside you—a type of beauty that felt somehow wrong, as if it were too polished, too perfect, for the situation. Her dark hair framed her face, her delicate features still and pale as she stared at you. The color drained from her face the moment your gaze locked with hers.

“Do you want to explain what I just heard?” you asked, your voice tight, sharp, biting. “Or should I just tell you what I’ve gathered?”

Silence. 

Her friend opened her mouth to protest, “I don’t think you have any right coming in here and—”

“I think this is a conversation for me and Selene,” you said coldly, not bothering to spare her a glance. 

Selene blinked a few times before she turned her head and offered her friend a small, almost reluctant nod.

“You should go,” she told her quietly. “And put the closed sign on the door, please.”

Her friend hesitated, but with a final glance in your direction, she walked out, the soft click of the door behind her leaving the two of you alone. You didn’t miss the way she’d muttered under her breath as she left, a quiet but very clear “Bitch.”

“Y/n,” Selene said after another moment of silence, her voice tentative, like she was trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know that you were here.”

“Clearly.”

Selene’s movements were stiff, awkward as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, like she didn’t know what to do with her hands now that she was trapped in this uncomfortable moment.  “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think that matters anymore,” you replied. “I asked you a question. I’d like to know what I just overheard.”

Selene’s ears flushed pink, a deep red that spread across her neck, as she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You could feel your patience unraveling. Of course she didn’t know what to say. She’d been caught in the act. There was no excuse for this.

“You listened to us,” you snapped, the words bitter in your mouth. “You spied on Azriel. Do you just want to skip ahead to how you justify it?”

Her face paled, and for a moment, she looked younger—small, almost fragile. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Oh please.” The frustration boiled over, flooding your veins with anger you hadn’t realized was possible. Anything you’d felt before this moment paled in comparison. You shouldn’t have asked her to explain. You already knew whatever she said would only make things worse, would only add fuel to the fire that was your growing irritation.

This is stupid. This is ridiculous. How did you get roped into this?

“I know it was wrong!” she said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I know, okay? I shouldn’t have—I shouldn’t have let Runa convince me it was a good idea. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

That had to be the worst excuse you’d ever heard. It wasn’t just the stupidity of it that pissed you off—it was the weakness of it, the desperation in her voice that made you want to scream.  Azriel must be blind. Had he really been so wrapped up in whatever bubble he’d built around her that he couldn’t see the cracks? Was he so fucking love-blind that this—this—was what he was left with?

“What else to do? About what? Surely any other solution would have been better.”

She let out a deep sigh and her shoulders sagged with the motion. “I really like him,  Y/n.”

You snorted, a sound of genuine amusement—more out of sheer disbelief than anything else. You couldn’t help it. “Alright,” you said, dismissing her with a wave of your hand, not buying it for a second. “Don’t start.”

“I do,” Selene said, her voice more insistent now. “I think I might even love him. But it’s hard.”

You shot her an unimpressed look. 

Her voice was louder, more frantic, as she continued. “Azriel doesn’t talk about anything—anything real.”

You didn’t bother hiding the scoff. “Bullshit. Az talks. You just have to be patient. Communicate like a normal fucking partner.”

Her frustration flashed across her face, the defensive crossing of her arms only making her look more like a child. “Do you think I didn’t try that? He doesn’t tell me anything. Not really. He keeps everything locked up so tight—he barely even looks at me sometimes. What was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not violate his privacy?” 

“You don’t get it.” Her hands trembled as she gestured at you. “He doesn’t talk to me like he talks to you. Do you know what it’s like to be the one he’s supposed to care about but feel like you’re always on the outside? Like there’s this wall between us that I can’t get through, but somehow you can?”

You should’ve walked away then. The urge to just let her talk herself into a hole was strong. But you didn’t.

“You’ve been dating him for a few months,” you said, crossing your arms, your stance slightly defensive. “We’ve been friends for centuries. You can’t expect him to open up to you completely overnight.”

“That’s not the point!” she snapped, her voice rising, a crack of desperation leaking through. For a fleeting second, you almost felt bad for her. A tug of sympathy.

“Then what the hell is the point?” you demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just looking for someone to blame. And for some reason, that someone is me. Are you seriously trying to imply I'm somehow responsible for you spying on him?”

Selene flinched, but she didn’t back down. You had to give her credit for that.  “No. I—I don’t know,” she mumbled, her hand tugging at her hair in jerky movements, like she was trying to yank the thoughts from her mind. “I panicked, okay? I didn’t think—I just… I didn’t want to lose him. I thought if I could figure out what was going on, maybe I could fix it. Maybe I could stop feeling like…”

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m always on the outside. Like I’m never going to be enough.”

A part of you wanted to snap back at her, to remind her that this wasn’t a justification, that none of this made it okay. But something about her voice—broken, raw, like a crack that had been growing for too long—slowed your response. Your anger faltered.

“I know it’s insane,” she added, “I know it was wrong, and I feel awful about it. But I didn’t know what else to do. It feels like i’m competing with someone who’s known him longer, who gets to see parts of him I never will. How am I supposed to make space for myself?”

“Still not a good enough excuse,” you bit out. “You can’t just violate his privacy because you’re insecure.”

Selene took a deep breath and met your gaze. There was no fight in them anymore. “Please, just go. Run off and tell Azriel everything. I know you’re probably excited to.”

Her words stung more than they should have.

“Why do you say it like that?” you asked, “Like I’m thrilled to ruin your relationship?”

Selene’s eyes flickered with something sharp. “Aren’t you?”

For a second, you almost wished you could be. Almost.

“No,” you said firmly. “I would never do that to Azriel. I’m not your competition. I’m his friend. I came here to give you the benefit of the doubt because I wanted you two to be happy. But this? This is…” You trailed off, unable to even finish the thought, because it was too much—everything about it felt wrong.

“Crazy?” Selene finished bitterly, shaking her head. “Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know how it looks. But like I said, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to care about someone so much that you start losing sight of yourself. I think about him, about how much I care about him, and all my instincts go out the window. ”

Selene had always existed a certain way in your mind.

Azriel had seemed lighter when he first mentioned her, a softness in his voice that you hadn’t heard in years. And you’d been happy for him—thrilled, even, at the idea of someone bringing him a bit of joy. You’d wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, wanted to believe that she could be good for him. You were excited to meet her.

But then Az started to change.

The more he changed, the more Selene shifted in your mind, too. She became untouchable, an image conjured more from your worry than from anything real. You imagined her as someone clingy, someone who demanded all of his attention and made him forget the people who loved him first. Someone full of herself, reveling in the power she had over him.

And then you’d met her.

She wasn’t what you’d expected—though not in the way that might have changed your mind. She wasn’t warm or open, wasn’t eager to charm or connect with Azriel’s family. Instead, she’d clung to him like a second skin, her hands always on his arm, her smile reserved only for him. And maybe it was unfair, but you hadn’t liked the way she’d looked at you, hadn’t liked the guarded, wary edge to her voice when she spoke.

You’d trusted your gut, let it guide you through the uncertainty. And when things fell apart—when the argument between you and Az finally erupted—Selene’s image had shifted again.

She became a villain in your mind, a figure painted in sharp, unforgiving lines. It was easier that way. Easier to picture her whispering in Azriel’s ear, twisting his thoughts, pulling him further away from you. You’d built her into someone cruel, someone who reveled in the divide she’d caused.

But now, standing before her, you saw something else entirely.

Selene didn’t look cruel. She didn’t look smug or victorious. If anything, she looked fragile. There was an unease in her posture, a vulnerability in the way her hands fidgeted at her sides. The guardedness was still there, but it felt more like armor than arrogance.

And for the first time, you questioned how much of the image you’d built of her was real—and how much of it was your own fear, your own concern for Azriel, projected onto her.

“Why did you tell Azriel that I had feelings for him?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you weren’t sure where they came from—but somehow, they lifted a deep weight off your chest.

Her brows furrowed, genuine confusion crossing her face. "What?"

“Why did you tell him that you thought I had feelings for him?”

“I wanted to see what he’d do,” she admitted. 

Disbelief tightened in your chest.  “So you lied to him for fun?”

She shook her head. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes,” you said, the word bitten out, “You told him I had feelings for him.”

“Because you do,” she answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world, like she understood your feelings better than you did. And for a second—a stupid, fleeting second—you almost believed her.

Selene’s gaze didn’t waver. “I know what a female in love with him looks like,” she said quietly,  her voice soft in a way it wasn’t before. “I see it every day when I look in the mirror.”

Something inside you twisted painfully, a knot of emotions you couldn’t untangle fast enough. You focused on the irritation. 

“Am I wrong?” she continued. “Is he the best part of your day? Do you look forward to talking to him? Can you tell him things you’d never tell anyone else? Do you save bits of good food just so he can try it?”

Your throat felt tight, the words stuck somewhere between anger and disbelief. How had this conversation managed to spin so completely?

The breath you took felt jagged, like your lungs couldn’t quite expand all the way. “That’s not true,” you said. “Azriel and I… We’re friends. That’s all. We’ve been friends for centuries. That’s just—what happens when you’ve known someone that long.”

For a moment, you thought she might apologize, or at least reconsider. Her expression faltered, but instead, she just stared at you.

“Do you really believe that?”

When you didn’t reply, Selene blinked, cleared her throat, and turned away from you, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “This is so pathetic,” she muttered, her voice tinged with bitter amusement. “I’m standing here, basically pushing you to him.”

A sigh slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You hesitated, torn between frustration and a strange sympathy. Against every instinct telling you to be petty, a part of you felt bad for her. She cared about Azriel. Deeply. You were certain of it— unsure of how you knew, but you were certain nonetheless. There was no malice in her voice, just insecurity and raw, unspoken fear.

You hated that you could sense it, but you couldn't ignore it either. You could almost hear Amren in your ear, urging you to walk away, and Mor's voice reminding you that Selene didn’t deserve your kindness. But somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. If Azriel saw something worth loving in Selene, maybe you did too.

“Okay, well, don’t do that,” you muttered, taking a step closer. The urge to comfort her was almost overwhelming—to show her that maybe she could learn and grow from this. “You need to talk to Az, Selene. Just sit down, be open—”

“Stop. Don’t be nice to me,” she snapped, spinning to face you. Her voice was sharp.

She moved as if to push you away, but hadn’t realized how close you’d stepped. The edge of her bracelet caught your cheek, and the sharp sting of metal cut straight through it.

Selene froze, her eyes widening as she took in the line of blood blooming on your cheek. “Oh my gods,” she whispered, her hands hovering uselessly. “I—I didn’t mean—”

You stepped back further, your hand still on your cheek, blood warm against your fingertips. 

This seemed about right, you thought bitterly to yourself. This is what happens when you try to be the bigger person. You were gonna kill Cassian. You were going to wring his godsdamned neck.

Selene’s voice became a rush of apologies, each one more frantic than the last, but your attention was already slipping away. Your gaze fell to the bracelet on her wrist. The metal gleamed, twisting slightly with every motion of her hand. You recognized it instantly.

Azriel had a similar one in his room. On his dresser.

“Is that how you did it?” you asked, pointing to her wrist.

Selene’s face drained of color, guilt flooding her expression. She nodded slowly, her hands shaking as she removed the bracelet and held it out to you, eyes wide and full of regret.

You took it from her fingers and, just for a moment, you almost let yourself fall back into the anger, the hurt. But you didn’t. You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” Selene whispered, voice breaking. “I really am. I was— I was just desperate. And Runa kept pushing, and—”

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, locking eyes with her. Her voice faded, but it didn’t matter anymore. “You’re not terrible, Selene. But you have terrible friends.”

You turned to leave but paused at the door, glancing back over your shoulder. “I suggest you find new ones.”

You tried to steady yourself as you stepped into the bustling streets of Velaris. The bracelet in your hand was cold against your palm, and the sting of the cut on your cheek throbbed with each beat of your pulse. Everything inside you felt scrambled—emotions tangled, confusion still clouding your mind.

The shuffle of footsteps broke through your fog. You looked up, just in time to hear a sharp voice.

“Ouch, that looks like it stung.” A small chuckle. “Although I’m sure you’re excited to have a reason for the Shadowsinger to tend to you.”

You scanned her. “Runa, right?”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Yeah, that's me.”

Without hesitation, you found yourself saying, “You gave your friend some hurtful advice.”

Runa shrugged nonchalantly, almost amused. “Oops.”

You held your tongue for a moment, your irritation intensifying the longer you looked at her. Unlike Selene, who had managed to evoke some sympathy, Runa didn’t even come close. She shifted, as if waiting for you to bite.

The silence stretched before she finally broke it with a snide laugh. “Honestly, Selene’s better off without that freak of a boyfriend. She doesn’t need to be wrapped up with shitty court politicians.”

Something in you snapped. Maybe it was the words, maybe it was the whirlwind of emotions from the last half hour, but your patience with her was gone. You inhaled sharply, trying to steady your temper, and placed the bracelet in your pocket.

“Do you know who I am?”

Runa raised an eyebrow, the slightest trace of mockery in her smile. “Uh, yeah. You're an emissary or something, right?” She waved her hand dismissively, as if it didn’t matter.

You closed the distance between you in a few long strides. “Good,” you said, letting the word settle in the air. “I want you to remember that when you report.”

Runa looked confused, her smug attitude faltering. “Report what?” 

You smiled. And then you punched her in the face. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: fun fact, this was the 6th draft of this!! and this felt like the way to go with the story....gives me some options to exploree. its also so long bc i wanted to keep all the fun scenes together tehehe sorry yall i got carried away

but selene....selene...selene... how i thought about her for a bit. i wanted to avoid making selene a caricature of a soulless mean jealous girl, i think it makes it somehow worse and even better to write knowing she was just incredibly insecure and misguided by people she trusted...doesn’t make anythinggg she did okay but

we out here rly testing our reader with a selene like villain rn. tehehe

also....time to imagine rhys holding nyx on his lap as he tells reader that shes in trouble for fighting a citizen in the open mf streets. rhys was so smug and now he’s like damn…wait a min… our public imagine SUCKSS

thank you for reading!!<3

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