#and also to be fair my thoughts about him are incomprehensible

[leilakisakabiri]

Can I request something with Gavi being barely even home resulting to reader feeling lonely and empty? A fluffy ending please! Gracias a todos!

You're Losing Me (Gavi)

Summary: You and Gavi's relationship is slowly falling apart - and neither of you know how to save it.

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behavior. 

A/N: This request literally revived me so thank you. I’m so excited to write angst hopefully you like it! Also thank you guys for 1k notes on Surprise, here’s my gift to you. Please send requests!

Word count: 6.8k+

Masterlist

It was the fourth Tuesday in a row that you ate alone in your apartment. The fourth time Gavi had skipped out on your plans last minute, sending a quick half-hearted text about one event or the other.

The first time it was because Coach had asked Gavi to stay after practice, keen on teaching him the perfect one-touch shot. Then it was a missed dinner because Jordi Alba had invited him out with some other players, and he just couldn’t say no, because he was finally starting to feel like a part of the family - like the older players had finally started to respect him.

Of course you hadn’t minded the first few times, he had been apologetic enough, promising you that he would be there next time, but each next time took on the next week, and soon the prospect of next time didn’t hold as much meaning anymore. You were accustomed to reading those words by now, and you rarely took time to read over the dwindling text messages anymore, eyes only scanning for those two words, the ones that had become a staple in your relationship.

Next time.

Next time you would cook dinner for him and he would be there to eat it. Next time he would tell you he loved you in person, rather than getting an impassive ‘sorry cariño’. The thought of next time, which once seemed like a lifeline to you, had become a dull reminder of the boy who was just on the other side of the city, only a measly train ride separating you both. Yet the distance seemed much greater.

But now the football season was drawing to a close, and instead of being excited at the notion of having more time to spend together, you felt uneasy and on edge, almost as if you were waiting for the other shoe to drop, something to come up, making the distance between the two of you that much more tangible.  

You felt your phone buzz next to you and your eyes unintentionally went to the clock.

9:45 pm.

The texts were getting later and later each time.

You already knew what awaited you, but you couldn’t help but scan the message regardless.

“Can’t come tonight, only have a few days till the season ends and the guys wanna make the most of it. Be there next time. Noche.”

There it was again, that unexplainable feeling in your chest, like your heart was always one step ahead of your brain, preparing for the loss of something that hadn’t yet left. Your mind was an incomprehensible mess, a jumble of contrasting thoughts and memories, forcing you to overthink situations and undervalue your emotions.  

You lifted your head watching your roommate land with a thump on the couch beside you, “He canceled again, didn’t he?”

You opened your mouth, an excuse on the tip of your tongue.

She held up her hand, “Don’t try to defend him. He knows it isn’t fair.”

You avoided her gaze, “You don’t get it. He’s really in demand and-”

“It doesn’t matter that he’s famous or a professional athlete, that doesn’t discredit his actions, or put the blame on anyone but him.”

She continued, “Look Gavi’s a good guy, I like him,” you stared at her, “I do! But he’s stupid if he doesn’t realize that he’s losing you. I know you, and while you might make excuses for him now, I know that sooner or later you’re going to notice that he hasn’t been treating you like you deserve, and you’ll be smart enough to leave.”

You felt the impact of her words full force, like a sledgehammer beating into your body. All the signs were there, right in front of your face, and you had been turning a blind eye, not wanting to admit what your heart already knew.

You knew it. The distance you had felt hadn’t been in vain – every day you could feel the connection between the two of you chip away, so small, you wouldn’t think to notice it till you stood back and looked at the bigger picture.

As a result of both your busy schedules, you both had come up with the idea of having Tuesday night, the most boring day of the week as agreed on, reserved for just the two of you. On Tuesday you didn’t have classes that ran well past dinner time or have to pick up late-night shifts at the restaurant, and he didn’t have evening practice. It was perfect. Tuesday was yours.

Except it had been four weeks since you’d had a proper conversation with Gavi, and you couldn’t help but see the difference in your relationship when you first got together, both eager and determined to spend as much time together as possible, to now, where even if you attended his games, you two still managed to get away without speaking.

You shook your head, “I-I need to take a walk.”

She reached over placing a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n. I’m sorry-”

You shook it off, standing up, “No it’s ok, it’s not your fault. I just need to clear my head.”

You felt the cool night breeze hit you as you walked the streets of Barcelona. It was unusually quiet in this part of town, the lights from the main strip didn’t reach this far out, and for a moment the quiet reminded you of your hometown.

If you closed your eyes, it was almost like you were fifteen again, back in your childhood bedroom, before the ideas of pretty boys with big brown eyes and the weight of managing both university and a job plagued all your thoughts.

You reached a lookout point, the top of the hill dropping to show you the expansive city below. You stared out, the buildings looked so small up here, barely more than a glowing dot in the dark, the cars a blur of soft yellow. You wondered which tiny dot Gavi was in. You wondered if he had checked his phone, seeing that you hadn’t texted him back like you usually did. You wondered if he even cared.

You shook your head trying to get rid of the unwanted thoughts.

Your relationship with Gavi was good. He made you laugh like nobody else, whispering secrets in each other’s ears like schoolchildren, making forts out of old sheets in his childhood bedroom when you met his family for the first time. You remembered his sweet smile, the way his eyes would crinkle unintentionally when he couldn’t hold back his excitement or happiness. You remembered confiding in him about school, how you were so stressed because you couldn’t manage eighteen credits while simultaneously holding a job that required you to be on your feet for hours at a time. You could still feel the soft caress of his hand, as he squeezed yours, providing you comfort, cracking a badly executed joke here and there just to get you to smile while listing a hundred reasons why if anyone could do it, it would be you.

So, if he made you feel all those things, why did his absence make you feel so tiny, so insignificant?

Your finger hovered over the call button, and you hit it hesitantly.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

That would be enough.

It rang seven times before the line went dead.

It took you a moment to realize you hadn’t put your phone up to your ear, waiting with bated breath for the timer on the screen to start, indicating he had picked up, but it never did.

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket, the same unsteady feeling in your heart strumming.

Once.

Twice. 

Then it was gone.

You came home to a quiet apartment and your roommate already asleep.

You shuffled into your room silently, you would give it one more week you decided. Next time would be the last.

The next week came, and while it was the first week Gavi had off from training, he had already planned to go to Ibiza to attend a music festival with his hometown friends. He had invited you, but it was more of an afterthought, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to go because of rushed ‘you can come if you want’ and a barely there apology so you left it.

You got an ‘I’ll miss you’ text from him and for a moment it made you smile, filling you with warmth. However, an ‘I miss you’ only did so much, and other than his sweet messages, there was really no intent behind his words.

Now it had been two days since Gavi had gotten back from his Ibiza trip, and you couldn’t hide the surprise on your face when you glanced over and saw a Facetime call from Gavi.

When was the last time the two of you had Facetimed? Maybe two months ago? It was much easier to send a text, the times both of you were free were few and far between.

You answered the call, pushing your textbook to the side. The dark grey interior of Gavi’s car greeted you.

“Hello?” You asked.

“Hey, Y/n long time no talk.” Gavi joked, but you felt your stomach flip at the truth behind his words.

“I can’t see you.” You said.

“Oh shit, did I accidentally Facetime? My bad I told Siri to call and she must have Facetimed instead. Let me call you.”

You went to speak but heard the three beeps indicating the call had been cut.

You heard the phone ring again and bit back a sigh. You just wanted to see his face.

You answered on the second ring.

“Hey sorry about that. I wanted to call and tell you that I’m back from Ibiza.”

“Yeah, I know.” You admitted, “I remembered.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Well, anyways I wanted to ask you to come with me to the Spanish football gala tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly Gavi’s voice was much clearer and closer to the phone. You assumed he took it off speaker.

“Can you not come?”

You hesitated, “Uhm I’m not sure. It’s so last minute and I’m already scheduled at the restaurant tomorrow.”

“Can’t you just take off?” He persisted.

You felt your brow furrow, “I’m already on the schedule, I can’t just decide to take off the day before, I need to find someone to replace me.”

“Ok, tell whoever that I’ll sign a jersey for them if they do.”

You suddenly felt angry. Why did he think that you could only get a day off work if he helped you out? Were you not capable of handling your own situations? You hated feeling like this, like you weren’t even your own person, just a shadow of who you were with.

“No that’s fine. I’ll just take off like you said, simple.” You couldn’t help but let the bitterness seep into your voice.

He went to say something, probably sensing the shift in your mood, but you cut him off, “I have to go. Bye Gavi.”

You hung up before he could respond.

Finding someone to replace your shift was easier said than done, but after some back and forth, and a promise to Marcus to cover his next two shifts, you were free.

Free to prance around in a hall filled with people you barely knew, with a boy who you thought about more in your memories than you saw in real life.

The night of the gala arrived, and you were decked out, wearing the earrings Gavi had gifted you for your one-year anniversary paired with a necklace you had received after graduating high school.

Gavi had originally said he would pick you up but had sent a quick text earlier in the morning explaining that the team was getting ready together at a hotel, and to just meet him at the venue.

Your roommate had agreed to drive you and you gave her a grateful smile as you got in the car.

“Ana thank you for taking me.”

She brushed the comment off playfully, “No problem. Gotta step up when Gavi steps down.”

You let out a short laugh, “My hero.”

You got to the venue a couple of minutes before you had planned to meet Gavi and nervously walked around, staying out of the path of cameras.

You found someone to take you to a tent where some Barca staff were waiting for the players to start the program.

You walked in, a surprised look taking over your face once you noticed Pedri and a few other players in the corner.

You weren’t aware that some of the players from the hotel had arrived yet.

Pedri noticed your entrance and came over to say hello.

You gave him a quick hug, making casual small talk.

Just ask him, a voice in the back of your head urged.

Finally, you bit the bullet, attempting to sound as casual as possible, “How did you guys get here so early? I thought everyone was leaving the hotel at 6.”

“Ehh, it wasn’t that important, so I skipped it. Half the guys didn’t go anyway, and the other half just went to play FIFA. Besides I beat them every time, so it gets a little boring after a while.”

You tried to laugh at his joke, but could only manage a watery smile, mind running a mile a minute.

So Gavi hadn’t actually needed to go but chose to.

Leaving you alone.

Again.

It wasn’t a big deal by itself. But it was the fact that this was just another item you could add to your ever-growing list of things Gavi cared about more than you. You wondered briefly if you had been wrong, and if he had missed some other event to be there with you, only to remind yourself that you hadn’t seen him in a month, so no, he hadn’t.

You were still grappling with your emotions when Gavi arrived, unsure whether to confront him or just let this be another thing you swept under the rug.

Your reunion, if you could even call it that, was lackluster at best. He had walked in with some of his teammates, immediately going to greet the rest of his team, completely ignoring you standing on the right side of the room with Pedri.

It was only once he asked where Pedri was that someone pointed the two of you out.

You felt your body deflate; he hadn’t even asked for you.

Were you overthinking things again? Maybe he had just forgotten in the excitement of seeing his whole team for the first time after the season ended?

Gavi made his way over to the two of you, reaching out to Pedri first. You watched as they exchanged a hug before Gavi’s eyes floated over to yours.

“Hey.” His voice was casual, like he was greeting a mailman, or thanking the cashier.

“Hi.”

You closed the space, attempting to hug him, but he grabbed your shoulders stopping you, looking down.

You followed his gaze.

“I don’t want to wrinkle the dress.”

You felt your heart thud against your chest, and while you knew he only had good intentions, the rejection still stung.

You stepped out of his embrace, watching his hands drop to his sides, “Okay.”

The carpet went by in a blur, you posed with Gavi for a few photos before moving to the side and letting him enjoy the spotlight, he had worked hard for it. You took a couple of photos with some of the other teammate's girlfriends and wives before you headed inside.

Once inside, there was still some time left before the actual dinner portion of the gala started. The gala was held for all Spanish football clubs as a celebration of their hard work during the season. It was also a great event to network, giving players the ability to talk with different coaches and directors they otherwise might not have gotten the chance to, allowing for discussions of thinly veiled preseason transfers to commence without the fear of unwanted ears listening in.

You found Gavi in the crowd quickly, linking your arm with his. He looked over at you, a smile taking over his features once he noticed you.

“Glad you found me.”

You noticed with great relief that his eyes still crinkled in the corners when he looked at you,

“I always do.”

The next however many minutes spent till dinner service started comprised of Gavi talking with various different players and directors as you stood like a shiny accessory off his arm, too insignificant to be acknowledged in conversation.

The call for dinner provided you solace from the repetitive conversations and mundane questions. You took a seat next to Gavi and were confused to find both Joao Felix and Antoine Griezmann seated at your table.

You leaned into Gavi, “I thought the clubs sat together?”

“Me too. I think they’re doing alphabetical tonight though.” He whispered.

“Which one’s your least favorite?” You looked up shocked at Gavi’s question, watching a boyish grin take over his features as he tried to hide his laugh, interlacing your fingers on your lap.

You shoved into him lightly, “They’re sitting right there!”

He leaned in closer, nose softly grazing your ear as he spoke, “Yeah but between me and you, I think Joao could have had a better season in Chelsea.”

You shook your head in disbelief, fighting back the smile that was threatening to spill out. Your eyes caught his and for a second it seemed like you had been transported back in time, back to when these types of moments were the standard not the exception, back when it felt like you were on each other sides, back when laughter was the antidote instead of tense silences filled with awkward hello’s.

His eyebrow lifted ask if to ask if you agreed with him, and a small murmur of agreement from you was all he needed before he opened his mouth, ready to hammer his point home, but his attention switched last second.

It was like you could visibly see the shift in his demeanor. First, it was his eyes glancing past yours, seeing the midfielder approaching. Then it was the subtle grip on your hand loosening, his fingers slipping through the gaps. Next, it was the complete shift in body, his posture straightening as he leaned his body away from yours, position shifting to face Pedri who had sat in the spot next to him.

To his credit, Pedri acknowledged the both of you but it was clear Gavi paid no mind to you, not evening sparing you a glance as he became immersed in a conversation with Pedri.

You tried to pretend it didn’t affect you and while you could lie to everyone else, you couldn’t lie to yourself. You had built up this evening up so much in your head, telling yourself that tonight would be the shifting point in your relationship and that everything would go back to the way it once was, but it was shaping up to be another Tuesday you had become all too familiar with.

Why did it feel like you were always competing for his attention?

Your mind was reeling, all the small actions Gavi did that you kept pushing aside, were floating back to the surface, each little remark or dismissal a little tug on your heartstrings till you were sure that if you stayed at the table a for a moment longer you wouldn’t be able to stop the onslaught of tears quickly approaching.

You stood from the table abruptly, catching a few people’s attention, but you gave them a polite smile, or at least you hoped it had been polite, you couldn’t focus on anything but the stinging in your eyes and the sinking feeling in your stomach.

You swiftly walked towards the restroom, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone had noticed but your eyes fell on Gavi’s form. He hadn’t even bothered turning around.

Of course, he hadn’t. 

Somehow that hurt more than anything else.

You were immensely grateful for the single-use restroom as you locked yourself in, shaky hands coming to steady yourself on the sink.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You were internally screaming at yourself, begging yourself to keep yourself together but the feeling was too overwhelming and before you could stop you felt the first tears slip down. Your shoulders shook as you forced yourself to be silent, embarrassed about someone walking by and overhearing you pitying yourself.

One hand covered your mouth as you muffled your sobs, while the other dug into the stupid marble sink until the skin was pink and indented. The pain acted as a distraction from the unbearable pressure in your chest, and you instinctively pushed your hand harder into the sink.

Your fingers felt numb as you slowly removed them, closing your eyes to steady yourself. It was obvious that you weren’t in the best mental state, but you couldn’t exactly sit in the bathroom for the next hour to sort it out. You had to clean yourself up and go back to pretending.

Yes, pretending, you realized, was exactly what you had been doing. This whole night you had been pretending, pretending everything was okay, pretending that your relationship was fine when in truth you couldn’t even remember what Gavi’s laugh sounded like.

When had it become all pretend?

Was there anything left here? Were your best years behind you both?

These unanswered questions haunted you as you calmed yourself down, wrapping around you like a blanket, one that provided you no comfort but rather a feeling of suffocation.

Finally, your eyes had dried, and the redness had faded significantly. You had gotten your breathing under control, and you felt a little lighter having stopped denying what had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

You took one final glance in the mirror, smoothing out your dress as you exited the restroom.

You walked slowly back to the table. You had decided that if you could just get through tonight, go home, and cry and think some more, then by tomorrow morning you would be able to talk to Gavi and decide what to do.

But that plan had flown out the window when you arrived back at the table to a confused Gavi.

It seemed he had finally noticed your absence.

“Where did you go? They served dinner 15 minutes ago.”

“I had to use the restroom.”

“For 15 minutes?”

“There was a queue.” You lied.

He seemed to accept your answer and you chose to focus on your food rather than him.

You were halfway through your meal when you noticed Gavi giving you a double take from the corner of your eye.

“Your eyes are red.” He spoke in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know why.”

“Are you sure?” His attention was beginning to slip again, eyes darting back between you and Pedri.

“Yes, I’m fine.” You heard your voice waver on the last syllable, a tick you had when you were lying, and Gavi immediately picked up on it, facing you fully.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head not wanting to get into everything here.

“I’m ok.”

“You’re not.”

“Gavi.” You warned.

“What happened? Did someone say something?”

“No. Just drop it please.” Your voice had gone soft, tired of defending yourself.

“Y/n just tell me, I’ll help.” He urged.

You stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, adamant to get an answer.

You felt yourself grow annoyed, why couldn’t he just let it go? Why was he suddenly interested in how you felt? You were just trying to protect what little left the two of you had and he seemed intent on destroying it.

“It’s you.”

He looked taken aback, eyes pooling with hurt and confusion, his body slightly deflating, “W-what?”

The moment was interrupted when the announcer took over the stage, beginning the presentation for the night, highlighting a few key players and matches.

You looked away first, turning to face the stage, clapping along, acting as though you couldn’t feel Gavi’s gaze burning into your back as he desperately tried to get your attention.

Once the presentation was over you were quick to excuse yourself, using the pretense of going to get a drink as a getaway.

You held your breath as you walked, praying Gavi wouldn’t follow you, and while he got up immediately once he noticed, he was quickly interrupted by another player coming to congratulate him, allowing you to slip away while he watched helplessly.

You let out a huff, leaning against the bar trying to slow your heartbeat.

“Long day?”

You looked over to see Joao standing next to you, watching as the bartender poured his drink.

“Something like that.”

He nodded, “Me too. Been a long couple of days actually.”

You smiled, “Actually, it’s been a long couple of weeks.”

He turned his head to look at you, “I take it back. It’s actually been a long couple of months.”

You raised your hand in mock surrender, “Ok I can’t beat that.”

He grinned, “Yeah not many people can.”

Your expression matched his own, and you gave your order to the bartender before turning to face him again, “So how’s the season been?”

“Shit. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I’m here I played for Chelsea this season not Athletico.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his abruptness.

“Yeah, I saw your first game. A red card first match is pretty brutal.”

His grin only widened, “Oh keeping tabs are we?”

You gave him a playful glare, “Of course gotta know how Barca’s competition is doing.”

“Oh, so you’re a Barca girl?”

“Since the day I was born.” You revealed proudly.

And it was true, even before you had met Gavi, you had loved Barcelona. Growing up in a family of football lovers, your family had declared FC Barcelona as their home club, and you had witnessed so many legends play for Barcelona and so many underdogs find their true passion at the club.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, and you gave him a nod of encouragement, pretending to zip your lips shut making him smile, “Ok well it’s always been my dream to play for Barcelona. Messi was always an idol to me.” He confessed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock before you abruptly shut it, your eyes almost widening comically as you spoke excitedly, “What oh my gosh. I’m in shock. Messi? But you play with Ronaldo!” You gasped.

He laughed at your facial expression, as he whispered, “I know! That’s why it’s a secret.”

You nodded along with his words, sending him a duh expression, “Of course, I won’t say anything I promise.”

“Promise what?”

Gavi had appeared by your side, a firm hand set on your waist, as he gently tugged you back into his body.

You peeked up at Gavi to see he was already looking down at you, jaw set. You gulped.

“Nothing much, just talking about the season.” You replied.

You saw Gavi’s eyes flicker between the two of you before he brought you closer, “Can we please talk?”

You bit your lip unsure but nodded.

He slipped his hand into yours as he led you to a quieter area. You waved goodbye to Joao as Gavi pulled you through the crowd, and he held his drink up in response.

He was a nice guy. You hoped next season would be better for him than the last.

He guided you to a standing table and propped your hands on the table as he played with the ring on your index finger.

“This a really pretty ring, is it new?” He asked eyes focused on your fingers.

“No, I got it last month.”

“I haven’t seen you wear it.”

“I’ve worn it every day since I got it.”

“Oh.”

You gently removed your hand from his, knowing that talking circles about something so small was going to get you nowhere.

“What do you want Gavi?” You asked quietly.

His voice came out gravelly, “I want to know how I let it get to the point where you feel more comfortable calling me Gavi rather than Pablo.”

His words when straight to your heart, and you could feel his pain almost as much as you could feel your own.

“I-I don’t know.”

You heard his breath falter, “I miss you calling me Pablo. Hell – I even miss you calling me Pablito. I’d take anything over whatever this is.” He gestured pointing between the two of you.

“Ok then let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about where it went wrong.”

His eyes lifted at your words, “Why are you speaking in the past tense?”

You remained silent.

“Amor please, why are you speaking in past tense?” You could hear the panic building in his voice.

“I think we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Ok we can fix that. No problem.” He agreed, desperate to save what was slowly unraveling.

“But do you want to? Fix it I mean?”

“Of course, I do. Please just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” His voice was almost near begging, and you knew without a doubt that you were in a similar state.

You couldn’t believe that this was happening here, in front of all these people, but it wasn’t fair to either of you to hold it any longer. You had to have this conversation sooner or later and it seemed like tonight was the time for it.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t have time for me.” You finally admitted what you had been feeling for the last month.

He shook his head rapidly, “I do! But I mean we both have such busy schedules, you have even less time than I do with school.” he argued, “You also have work so that cuts down on the time we have too, but I’m not complaining.”

You were trembling with anger as you spoke, but you kept your voice low, “Yes, because I have to work a job to be able to afford college. I hate the hours probably more than you do, but I do it because I have to. I don’t have an option. I want to go to school? I have to fund it. But you? You didn’t have to go out with the guys after practice or stay around Ansu’s to play FIFA, but you did. That was a choice you made.”

He opened his mouth to retaliate but you weren’t done, “And I’m not even mad about that. I’m mad that for the last month, you’ve put me below every other person in your life, treated me like I’m dispensable, someone who you only consider when you need something. I feel cheap. Like something you only want when it’s convenient to you.”

“That’s not true. You’re my girlfriend!” His voice shook as he spoke, and you realized he was probably just as scared as you were.

“Then why do I feel like I’m not?” Your voice came out soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like delivering the final blow to an already sinking battleship.

You felt his eyes on you, eyes glazing over as hundreds of unushered words filled the space between you, but the moment was cut short, and you had to remind yourself that you were in public as Xavi approached the two of you.

You gave Xavi a quick hug before he congratulated Gavi on a great season.

Gavi only nodded, murmuring short responses, eyes glancing at you every few seconds like he was scared you would disappear from his life if he wasn’t watching.  

He left after a moment, and then the two of you were alone again.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I had no idea that’s why you were working. I would’ve given you the money if you just said something-“

“I don’t want your money Gavi! It’s yours, not mine.” You said exasperated.

“C’mon Y/n you know I have enough to provide for the both of us. You don’t have to work-“

“I don’t want that! In fact, right now I don’t even want to be in this relationship!”

The boy physically shrunk back at your words, your admission sending him into silence as he processed your words.

Finally, he spoke, head shaking in denial, not wanting to admit what was right in front of him, “I-I don’t understand.”

You wanted to yell at him to notice all the signs you’d been sending him, beg him to understand the things you couldn’t say but had always been lurking in the shadows, easy enough to make out if you just paid attention. You wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Gavi got to pursue his passion while you were being told to give up yours. Your head was filled with millions of things you wanted to say to him, thousands of little moments you wanted to share with him, you wanted to confide in him about how scared you were, how you had never felt like this in your life, how the thought of him slowly falling out of love with you was ripping your insides apart, making you sick to your stomach. There were so many things but not one left your mouth.

“I know you don’t.” Your voice sounded tired, even to your own ears, and you wondered if this was it. If this is where the two of you parted ways.

“I-I’m just going to go home.”

“I’ll grab our coats.”

You placed your hand gently on his, giving him a sad smile, “It’s ok. I think I’ll go alone.”

Neither of you could deny what it meant.

He ducked his head so you couldn’t see his red eyes. There was a moment of silence, and you could tell he was fighting with himself, trying to figure out what to do to stop the inevitable, until he slowly nodded,

“Ok.”

He had just sealed your relationship closed, something you were grateful for because you knew you couldn’t have done it yourself.

He didn’t lift his head as you walked away, and you didn’t blame him.

You grabbed your coat quickly, bidding goodbye to a few people as you made your way out of the hall.

As you walked down the hallway towards the main doors you realized you didn’t have a ride back. Your roommate had dropped you off and you assumed Gavi would drop you back. Well, that wasn’t happening now. Train it was. One glance out the window told you it was raining, downpouring to be exact.

How fitting. At least the weather matched your mood.

You stepped outside, immediately becoming drenched, but somehow you found comfort in it, at least this way no one could see you cry.

You were about halfway down the steps when you heard the door slam open, yelling coming from behind you.

You spun around, surprised to see Gavi stepping into the rain, “Please stay. Please.”

You stood frozen, unsure of what to say.

You were sure he wouldn’t follow you. But he had.

He kept taking steps closer to you, closing the distance, till you were only two steps apart, “Stay.”

His eyes searched your own, looking for something, maybe a sign that there was hope, something you weren’t sure you could provide.

“Just let me go. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

He shook his head, breath unsteady, “No I can’t. I can’t. I feel like if I let you go now, I’ll never see you again.”

You bit your cheek looking away, he was right. After tonight you had no intention of talking to him again.

His shoulders drooped at your silence, and he sat down on the steps of the building, harsh rain pounding down on him, matting his hair and drenching his extremely expensive suit, but he didn’t seem to care, “I hate fighting with you.”

You glanced down at his figure, watching him sit in the rain with his head in his hands, utterly defenseless.

“But I hate even more that it’s my fault, and that I couldn’t see what I was doing until I felt what you did, just for a second, and it hurt like hell.”

“I should have been there for you. I should have made time for you. I knew what I was doing wasn’t right but then I kept thinking it’s fine I’ll make it up to her next time, but next time never happened because I never showed up. I guess I was just so focused on making sure my teammates all liked me, and they had just stopped treating me like a kid, finally inviting me places - and I’m not using that as an excuse because I know it’s a shit one, it’s on me. Nobody forced me to do anything, I just wanted to feel included, and I put everyone else’s feelings above yours when yours was the one that was the most important to me.”

He finally lifted his head, and he was close enough that you could see the tears streaming down his face as he looked intently at you, almost like he was trying to memorize you, “If you want to walk away you can, you should - I’ll understand. I just wanted to apologize, really apologize, and own up to everything I did. I love you, and I promise you I won’t take anyone for granted the way I did with you.”

Your expression mirrored his own, and the tears were falling freely at his confession now that it was just the two of you. All the things you had wanted him to realize he had. All the things you wished he had said, he finally did.

But was it too late?

“Thank you, Pablo.”

He let out a short laugh through his tears, “No, thank you.”

You gave him a soft smile before you put distance between the two of you, letting the rain mask the sound of you leaving.

The lights from the venue grew dimmer as you continued walking, and you spared one last glance over your shoulder before it disappeared from view, seeing Gavi’s tiny figure rooted in place, watching you leave.

Your steps faltered.

How could you leave this relationship, this boy, when every single warning sign was going off in your brain, telling you to turn around and fight, to not give up? He had understood, he had understood exactly what you had felt, and had owned up to his mistakes, what else could he have done? He couldn’t go back and make it better, but he could change the way he treated you, but how would you acknowledge the change if you didn’t stick around?

It didn’t feel right walking away.

You thought you would feel content, feel like the pressure was lifting from your shoulders, but the dropping feeling in your stomach was multiplying, and your heart was constricting painfully at the thought of never seeing him, never laughing with him, never kissing him again, at the idea of falling in love with someone that wasn’t him.

You never ran faster in your life.

Let him be there. Please let him be there.

You didn’t know how you could explain yourself if you had to walk back into the event sopping wet, eyes puffy, and nose runny.

You couldn’t stop the wide smile that stretched across your face as he realized he was right where you left him.

You sat next to him and he didn’t notice until you spoke.

“Pablo.”

His head shot upon hearing your voice, and his face lifted for a second before falling again, “Di-Did you forget something?”

You nodded.

“Ok I can get it for you, what is it?” He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice clear.

You shifted closer to him, bodies pressed against each other, “I forgot that I love you. I love you and I want to work this out. I’m happy that you took responsibility and I believe you. I believe that you won’t do it again. But I should apologize too – I also wasn’t fair to you, and I did things that I shouldn’t have just to get back at you for making me feel so small.”

“I’m sorr-”

You cut him off, “Let’s stop apologizing.”

He nodded, eyes looking at you with nothing but love and admiration,

“Ok but we’ll have to work on our communication.” He said, and you hummed in agreement.

You touched your forehead with his, staring at each other with baited breaths until he finally closed the distance and kissed you. After a month of not seeing each other, you were finally kissing, pouring all your emotions, all your love, all your pain into the kiss, making a promise to be there for each other, and it felt like coming home.

alternate ending

[n-i-m-u-e]

In the sequel to my bodyswap!AU, the scene that I actually dreamed about and started this story in my head

Lucerys’ hands trembled. He stared at the text in the folio, realizing that they could perform the ritual as soon as today. Already today, they could fall asleep each in their own body again!

'We can leave everything as it is now!' he blurts out faster than he can bite his tongue.

Uncle frowns and looks at him with complete incomprehension in his eyes. In both eyes!

Luke begins to explain, confused:

'You said yourself that I don't deserve what I have. That I wouldn't be able to handle the Velarion legacy, and that's… that's true. It is. And I also won’t be able to… I can’t… Aemond, imagine, you’ll have both eyes, and Vhagar will still be yours. And you’ll no longer be just the queen’s second brother without a title or inheritance — you’ll get Driftmark. We could come up with some plan… Yes, I know my body may not be as trained or handsome, but it’s still growing. Jace grew nearly two feet in the past half year, and I…'

Aemond closed the tome so loudly that it crackled and a cloud of dust rose into the air. His uncle stood up from the table and leaned over Luke, who was still sitting.

'Did you hit your head somewhere, and we didn’t notice?' Aemond's voice was unsettlingly calm, and Lucerys wanted to defend himself against uncle's sarcasm.

'That's a good suggestion! And, as I said when I apologised, I have now realised how much I owe you.'

'Luke, you owe me for the an eye, but not…'

'I'm offering you the eye. Both of them!'

'And your fucking life to boot!'

'You would have handled this so much better. Because you're so much better at everything, and you'll finally get what you deserve!'

Aemond blinks and opens his mouth in disbelief. There is silence between them for a moment, and then uncle erupted into such filthy curses that Luke thought he had never heard anything like it, not even from the sailors on his grandfather’s ships. And hearing something like that from a prince of the realm, let alone from a man like Aemond Targaryen, is quite shocking, to say the least. And given that Aemond Targaryen now has his, Luke's looks…

'…seven hells and an eighth one with dung!'

Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to the window, throwing it open. For a moment, he breathed in the mix of sea and sulfur that, during windy weather on Dragonstone, became even more intense. After a while, he turns around and walks towards Luke with a strange expression on his face.

At the start of the exchange, despite their obvious difference in height and strength, Luke was still afraid of his uncle, and if Aemond had approached him with such determination and fiery eyes a couple of weeks ago, the boy would have considered running. But now, he stayed seated, not resisting when his uncle grabbed him by the collar and shook him with a force Luke didn’t think his own body was capable of. Aemond even lifted him slightly from the bench, but for some reason, this didn’t worry Luke at all. Until—

'You foolish, foolish child! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU’RE OFFERING!?'

Now Lucerys felt indignant and a bit offended, because yes, he did! He understood he was not a child, and in general—

'WHAT ELSE CAN I OFFER TO STAY FRIENDS?'

Aemond froze, loosening his grip, and staring at Luke for a full minute. Then he unclasped his fingers, though his hands still lingered on Luke’s chest. He cleared his throat and, in a strangely cracked voice, asked:

'What?'

After all that had been said, only now did Luke start to feel truly uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, replying almost in a whisper:

'I just want you to stop hating me. No one will lose anything, because in the end, I’m no more a Velaryon than you or someone else in our family are. And everything I’ve offered… it’s only fair...'

But he didn’t get the chance to finish, because Aemond suddenly yanked him by the collar again, pulling him up to his eye level and abruptly pressed his-his lips to Luke’s. And in that moment, everything inside and outside of Luke went utterly silent for a while.

[dododan]

Thoughts about Alastor after the episode "Hello, Rosie"

Perhaps first such a small summary for those who haven't read my previous posts about Alastor.

Alastor's deal with someone has worked out. Officially we don't know with whom, but my theory is that it is Lilith.

Alastor is obliged by the contract probably to help/protect Charlie. His intentions are not clear, and he harbours many secrets.

He is not fond of Lucifer. Theories are that he either sees him as a threat to Charlie's hotel and dreams, or he is redirecting negative emotions about his own father and how Lucifer treated Charlie onto him.

Alastor enjoys being in the company of women and probably likes/appreciates Charlie. Perhaps he sees himself as her mentor.

His help, although chaotic and initially incomprehensible seems to be having an effect and actually helping the hotel and Charlie.

Alastor has a weakness for jazz and alcohol, but we don't see him ever drinking alcohol in the series.

His enemy is Vox, but he is more annoyed by Lucifer (probably because he is stronger than him).

Alastor doesn't like to lose or be wrong.

Here you have a link to previous thoughts if you are curious.

Alastor’s true motivations? - Why is he helping Charlie?

Dad beat Dad - Alastor, what the hell are you doing?

Traditionally, there are loads of spoilers here!

From the outset, Alastor seems interested/intrigued by Charlie sitting in the room and spinning another plan. Clearly he saw an opportunity in. Charlie was alone, so he could talk to her in peace. A plan was already forming in his head.

On Instagram, one girl made a fair analysis of Alastor's facial expressions. What expression on his face signifies what emotion. Which proved to be very helpful in understanding him! Here you have ig: @/sasha_draws.bg She did a really great job! But back to Alastor.

When Alastor feels some negative emotion, lines/wrinkles appear under his eyes. Which is true when you pay attention to the previous episodes, but in this 'Hello, Rosie' it is particularly noticeable.

For most of the time in this episode, Alastor seemed concerned to me.

When Alastor was talking to Charlie I had the impression that he was provoking her. He made Charlie painfully aware of how badly her plans had failed, which seems cruel. Initially this could be understood as simply an opportunity to take advantage of Charlie and make a deal, but I think this is just an added benefit. Alastor is bound by his contract to the hotel and Charlie, so he can't leave her. But Alastor has besides made Charlie realise that she can't idly brood on the bed because she doesn't have that luxury. Her friends were waiting for a plan, they were waiting for Charlie.

Charlie gave up at that point, and Alastor made her realise that there was still a chance to make things right somehow. He exasperated her, and showed her that she couldn't give up - in a rather cruel way but still, it's not always kind words or words of support that help you up.

Sometimes the painful realisation of the truth is the best motivator to undertake change.

For a moment, Alastor seemed annoyed that Charlie thought she had him figured out because she smiles all the time. He made her realise that the opposite is true.

A smile can be a weapon on many fronts. You could say that he gave Charlie some cue about his own behaviour. His lecture about smiling shows a lot about him.

Alastor hides a lot - his emotions, motivations or goals. He revealed to Charlie that he himself puts on a mask. The smile gives Alastor a sense of control.

The question is, isn't Alastor also lying to himself in this way?

He is creating himself as a cruel overlord, a person without a conscience who inflicts suffering on others for fun. It makes me wonder if he hasn't started to believe himself in the character he wants to pretend to be?

Nevertheless, no matter how good Alastor's goals may be attributed to him, or that his actions have a good effect on the hotel and Charlie, he still made a deal with her. He was aware that Charlie would not give up her soul to him and would not do anything against herself. Their deal is that Charlie is to help him like friend to friend when he needs it without hurting anyone, and he will give her information. Quite a specific arrangement and very narrow. To me their deal is a bit of a lifeline for Alastor when he finds himself trapped by his own contract.

[As an aside, I've noticed that a lot of people think that the stitches appearing on Alastor's lips are a sign that he can't talk about his deal. I doubt this because of the design of his character. Alastor was shown at many points to be dealing with voodoo or somehow connected to it. This is indicated by the green symbols that appear when he uses his powers, and the stitching that appears on his mouth probably refers to the very design of the voodoo dolls, which also had their mouths stitched in this way. Ironically in my opinion, voodoo is generally good magic, focusing on healing or helping, which doesn't really fit Alastor. Unless one considers the distinction between white and black magic as it is known in New Orleans. But I also point out that I'm not an expert, but I'm just partly familiar with the subject of voodoo and just wanted to show a reference to Alastor's appearance here].

I think Alastor's worry or uncertainty is most evident when he leads Charlie to Rossie. You can see the look on his face and those wrinkles under his eyes. This could be interpreted as:

he's upset that the angels are about to exterminate in the hotel and the only person who can oppose it is preoccupied with his love problems rather than more important matters.

He is upset/worried that he realises he won't be able to help Charlie this time, so he leads her to the only person who is more knowledgeable about love than him: Rossie.

He is nervous because he sees that he might fail if the hotel is destroyed, and that this might somehow breach his contract.

Alastor and Rossie seem to have a very intimate relationship, which was implied in the episode " Scrambled Eggs" when they were at the Overlords meeting. Now we have confirmation that they are very close friends. Rossie can afford a lot in Alastor's company and he allows her to do so. It also seemed to me that when he met Rossie he relaxed a bit, as the wrinkles under his eyes disappeared for a few scenes.

All in all, I'm not surprised that Alastor and Rossie are friends.

Rossie is the opposite of Alastor in a way. She seems transparent in her feelings and genuinely cares about her cannibals. But she also has the strength and power to allow herself to do so. Alastor, on the other hand, plays and hides emotions all the time, and gains power through fear. Despite this, he gets along very well with Rossie, which may mean he's not quite what he makes himself out to be.

I also think that Rossie's words about it being actions that show true nature and feelings may apply to Alastor and his role in season two in the future. But we can already see this now, for example, in the fact that his duet with Lucifer, where Alastor sang that he wanted to replace Charlie's father, ultimately led to a reconciliation between daughter and father which Alastor seemed to be happy with.

We also have it made clear that Alastor is asexual.

Rossie commented that Alastor could learn manners from Charlie. It is possible that what is meant is that when someone annoys Alastor, he does not mince his words. He makes his opinion clear - Susan is a perfect example of this.

Alastor and Rossie really seem close to each other, such as when they look at each other when Charlie panics, or how they dance with each other or their negativity towards Susan. Additionally, Alastor must have had a close business relationship with Rossie since she had an assignment for him and when she said that he never let her down. I got the impression that this gave him considerable satisfaction. Plus it helped the image he wanted to create for Charlie - that he was reliable.

Alastor also seems to put his faith in Charlie after all. Rather than believing in her plan of salvation for sinners, he believes more in the girl's ability to draw crowds and motivate people to action other than through fear or deals. It is hard to say whether he admires this trait of Charlie's, but he certainly appreciates her for it.

Alastor supported Charlie during her song when she had to convince the cannibals to fight - either by giving her the microphone or showing her a thumbs up. I further related that he was slightly worried/nervous, but also pleased after seeing his actions bear fruit.

Alastor also made it clear to Rossie that he valued Charlie and expected nothing less from her than to thrill the crowds. But the important thing is that he referred to her as the Princess of Hell, not Charlie. Alastor has made it clear for the first time that he wants to fulfil Charlie's potential, this shows that despite the faith he has in her, he still only sees her as the Princess of Hell and not Charlie as someone who is more than just a princess.

A break for now, as it's quite late at my place, so expect the rest of the analysis tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow at the furthest.

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 rum and revelations . . . (l.s.)

— after one too many drinks at a party, logan forgets how to keep his own secrets. but drunk words are sober thoughts, right? (1k words)

+ inspired by this ask from my lovely dolly — i know this was a sugar n spice saturday ask but it just made my mind go BRRR so i had to write a full fic!

+ contains fluff, drinking and drunk behaviour, mentions of vomiting but no one is actually sick. divider from cafekitsune

“woah, sorry!”

before you can react, logan is slumped against your side, essentially placing his full body weight onto you. high-pitched laughter escapes his lips as he attempts to steady himself, placing a hand onto the wall you’re both leaning against as he regains his balance.

there’s no mistaking it. he’s drunk. absolutely shit-faced, to be more precise. 

but you can’t really blame him. all of his hard work and determination had finally paid off, and just a few hours earlier he’d earned his first points of the formula one season. what kind of friend would you be to deny him the chance to celebrate? especially when such a large party had been thrown, a friend of one of logan’s friends offering up their house to host.

“feeling okay?” you ask, an amused smile tugging at your lips as he lifts his head.

“never better,” he responds. 

even his voice suggests he’s a little worse for wear. his accent has somehow grown thicker, and his words are a little sluggish, slurred together in a blur of vowels and consonants with a meaning wrapped up somewhere in the middle. a couple of glasses of champagne paired with tequila shots and rum and cokes will do that to a person, you suppose.

any conversation dies on your tongue as logan slumps forward once more, warm forehead resting against your shoulder as he emits a low groan. if it weren’t for his shoulders shaking with laughter, you would have been concerned. 

“this is what you call ‘never better’?” you tease. 

without thinking, you lift your hand to his hair, carding your fingers through the blonde strands in a motion that you hope is soothing. logan’s response comes in the form of an incomprehensible groan, and you can’t help but laugh yourself.

“i think it’s starting to hit me,” he admits, removing his head from your shoulder. 

his eyes are a little glazed over, and though he’s smiling, there’s a far away look on his face that indicates the copious amounts of alcohol is starting to catch up with him.

“alright, let’s get you some water,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

you and logan are no strangers to taking care of one another. you had been best friends for the past five years or so, so you’d had your fair share of looking after the other when they got a little too carried away at a party. still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen logan this bad.

you take his hand in yours, lifting his arm until it’s draped around your shoulder in an effort to support his weight. he stumbles alongside you, mumbling inaudible comments to himself and bursting into gratuitous laughter as he trips over his own feet. 

some divine force must be on your side, as you’re able to find an empty room without trouble. god knows how you would have reacted if you’d… interrupted something between two other partygoers. 

you lead logan over to the queen sized bed, sitting him down despite his protests that he’s perfectly capable of doing it on his own. luck was certainly with you, as the room you’d selected bore an ensuite bathroom. 

“wait here,” you instruct, striding over to the bathroom and filling a glass with cold water.

as the crisp water fills the glass, you check yourself over in the mirror. when you think about it, you’re not sure why. sure, you don’t want to be walking around with smudged makeup, or your hair a mess, but it’s also just logan. he’s seen you at your very worst sober, so why should it matter how he sees you now, when his vision is likely double? 

you thrust the glass into his hand, cupped palm coming to sit under his chin as he greedily downs the liquid. a few droplets hit your hand, and you hold back a shiver at the cold temperature.

“y’okay?”

“i’m not gonna vomit, if that’s what you mean.” he jokes, and you smile back. 

it’s quiet for a moment, until logan speaks again.

“thanks, y/n. i’m sorry, you should be enjoying yourself. yet you’re here taking care of me.” 

logan exhales, throwing himself backwards until his back hits the mattress.

“don’t apologise, logan. if there’s any night for you to get shitfaced, it’s tonight,” you reason, giving him a smile. “anyways, ‘m happy to do it. long as i know you’re okay.”

“you’re too nice,” logan mumbles, his tone once again far away, as though his mind is somewhere else entirely. “y’know, this is why i like you so much. you’re always so nice to me.”

suddenly, your heart is in your throat. 

“what?” you ask, forcing out a laugh.

he’s drunk. you reason. he has no clue what he’s saying.

“i mean, y’always there for me. at every grand prix, even when i’ve fucked a race, you’re in the garage for me. you always answer my calls, and you’re just really nice. and really pretty. my god, you’re so pretty,” logan mumbles.

his eyes are closed, and it’s apparent to you that he has no idea what he’s saying.

“oscar’s tired of me talking about you, actually. though he promises it’s not your fault. it’s mine, for talking about you so much. oscar thinks you’re great.” 

you’re glad he’s out of it, because it would be impossible to hide your flushed cheeks and dropped jaw. 

“of course,” you respond, begging your tone to stay even. “we’re best friends. and i’m fucking amazing.”

logan scoffs a laugh.

“yeah, ‘best friends’. not like i’ve been in love with you since we met or anything.”

it’s clear his tone is begging to be joking, but the alcohol prohibits him from being convincing. your heart is in your throat, and you swallow it down, praying it doesn’t try to crawl back out. instinctively, your hand finds itself in logan’s hair once more and you sigh, biting back a smile.

“we’ll talk when you’re sober, yeah? i think you’ll be quite pleased with how the conversation turns out.”

logan nods at this, leaning further into your touch. when he finally responds, his voice is thick with sleep.

"mm, sounds good. love you."

your heart skips a beat as you smile.

"yeah. love you too."

🏷️ tags : @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy

[sitp-recs]

HD Erised 2023 - Sitp recs

Hello hello! I’ve been trying to get back into the reading zone and Erised came at the perfect time. I thought I’d share my favorites as I slowly make my way through it, mostly to keep track of my reads and also because it’s been so long since I did a fest list (please don’t mind my very much incomplete Fan Fair list while I kick off another one 🙈 so much to read, so little time!). These were great fun and I can’t wait to see what’s coming up next!

🧹 Clear Skies, Full Hearts by @sorrybutblog (E, 16k)

Harry loves everything about playing professional Quidditch – the rush of flying, the rush of winning, the rush of getting off with rival seeker Draco Malfoy. Harry’s the highest scoring rookie Seeker in the history of the League. He’s also, inexplicably, obsessively, hooking up with Draco. When Draco unexpectedly quits the League and disappears from Harry’s life, Harry doesn’t stop wondering what it all meant and if he’ll ever get another chance to find out.

🪴 solemates by @shiftylinguini (E, 17k)

It starts because Harry has no self-control when it comes to meaningless and entertaining competition. Actually no, that's not quite right. It starts because Harry is absolutely plastered.

🎨 Thickets by @wolfpants (E, 17k)

When Draco returns to the UK after two decades of building his career as an internationally-renowned artist to look after his ailing, estranged father, he crosses paths with his former flame, Harry Potter, in the most unexpected way.

🚎 Sugarplum by @mallstars (E, 27k)

"Draco," said Potter, a little breathless, a little cheerful. "Hi." He smelled of coconut lotion, Cockroach Clusters and a sloppy ironing charm, his scent crowding Draco's overworked mind from the moment he stepped onto the bus. Lifting one hand off the steering wheel, Potter gave a small wave. He wore gloves. Fingerless, the leather black against the sunlight. Leather. In August.

🧶 we have heard on high by @oflights (E, 34k)

Reeling from the fallout of a bad breakup, Harry decides to find out who his soulmate is. The bad news: it's Draco Malfoy. The good news: Malfoy doesn't seem to know they're soulmates. The worst news: Harry might be falling for him anyway.

🇫🇷 À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief.

🥘 Nothing Gold Can Stay by @moonflower-rose (E, 40k)

One summer evening, Harry Potter vanished in the middle of dinner with his friends. Four days later he came back. Sort of. Draco Malfoy is on the case.

🐺 Jasmine in Bloom by @lqtraintracks (E, 41k)

This is not something Draco can have in his life… Potter overturning all that he’s carefully cultivated. They’re not compatible and never will be. Draco’s been playing with fire. It just so happens that he likes how Potter smoulders before being allowed close enough to burn.

⏳The Unplottable Time Conundrum by @writcraft (E, 45k)

When the past starts bleeding into the present at Grimmauld Place, an old academic article pulls Draco Malfoy out of his life of luxury. Haunted by the memory of a fleeting post-war kiss and thrust into the ghostly spaces inhabited by Unspeakable Harry Potter, Draco’s easy life is about to get a whole lot more complicated.

🪩 Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 118k)

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 1: #355E3B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]

-

Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.

Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.

And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.

Not anymore.

-

Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life. 

Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work. 

And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future. 

‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.

He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.

So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.

A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.

The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.

"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."

Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."

The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."

"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"

The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.

"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."

Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.

The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.

The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."

With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.

Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?

With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.

-

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.

But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'

Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand. 

“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.

“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.” 

She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him. 

Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved. 

“It’s Tucker.”

“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better. 

“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.” 

Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”

“I’m here.” The girl responded. 

Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”

“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.” 

“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked. 

Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route. 

“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.” 

Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”

“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”

“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case. 

She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”

Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise. 

-

Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.

He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.

"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."

Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."

"Robin-" Oracle sighed.

Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.

He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.

Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.

His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.

"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.

"Home," Orphan said simply.

Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."

"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."

"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.

The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.

-

The stars were gone.

Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.

“Ghost Child.”

Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.

He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.

“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.

Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.

Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.

“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.

Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.

“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.

The others… Danny’s mind whispered.

Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.

That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.

As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.

Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.

-

"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.

The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'

Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.

The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.

A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.

"The results?" Ra's asked.

Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”

Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?

He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.

Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.

The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“

‘Platelets.’

“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”

“What kind of cells are they?”

“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”

Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”

Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”

The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”

“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.

Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.

Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.

The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.

This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.

-

[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]

[lunaeclips]

Here is how far I am in writing my book/novel/whatever I'm doing.

I want feedback on how good it is, what needs changed, and I also need a title because you can't have an untitled book.

(Prologue) Many people believe there to be some sort of god, and the ones who don’t traditionally think that the universe is all on its own and that anything sentient has to have originated from a planet with advanced life. I, however, am part of a small group of people who believe that there are four higher powers, each of which being stronger than the last. No one else in the group is brave enough to go on the journey to search for them though, leaving it all to me. 

Some people have called us a cult, and to be fair, we certainly act like one. There are a few key differences though, one being that none of us worship any of the higher powers, we just believe that they are there. This is a sort of retelling of the story, with some parts being filled in by the others. Please, sit back and read, have some water and food as well, because this story is one hell of a ride.

(Chapter one: The Awakening) “Where is that damn satchel!” Brush yelled, growing more and more frustrated with every failed attempt at finding it. We were meeting at his house, due to him wanting to show something that was very important and yet he couldn’t find it. I’ve always found it funny when people couldn’t find something they lost, even if I was the one who was hiding it. “Maple, where did you put it?” Marsh said. Marsh was the leader of the group, and being the oldest sibling in her family, she often took control of sparratic situations like this. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Marsh,” I said “Maybe blame someone else for once?”

“Just get it out, it might actually be important and if it is, we need it.” She was being more demanding now, a tell-tale sign of her becoming agitated. “Fiiiiine, but stop blaming me, ok?” “I’m not promising anything like that to you, Maple.” She said, yanking the satchel out of my grip. Everyone sat at their designated spots around the circle as Marsh called for the meeting to be officially started.

“So,” Brush started, “We all know that there is a special artifact that leads us to one of the powers, right?”

Everyone nodded, with a few sparse yeah’s and yes’s scattered around.

He dramatically pulled a glowing orb out of the satchel. It was small enough to easily fit into the palm of one’s hand. “I found this while wandering around the woods, and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I thought that maybe this could be that artifact.” He held it out for everyone to see, glowing with a substance unknown to the planet. 

Everyone leaned in, hoping to get a better look at the strange orb. He passed it towards Bristle, who took it with glee, looking at every detail they could before passng it to Brush. It slowly passed around the circle of people, landing last on Maple, who took it into her hands with much more caution than the others. She inspected the stuff inside, a swirling mass of black and another color that keeps changing by the second. 

What could this be? Maple wondered, racking her brain of vast knowlege on the legends of the four powers. As soon as it started to click, Marsh yanked it from her hands, making her train of thought fly off and everyone jumped at the suddenness of the action. 

“What’d you do that for?!” yelled Brush, angry at him for doing that.

“She was getting too handsy,” he explained “and I found it anyway so I should get a say on what happens.” At that statment, everyone started to shout at him, saying things similar to “That’s not how this works!” or “Are you serious?!”

The only person not talking was Maple, trying to catch that train of thought that had almost given her the answer, but it was to no avail because as her parents always said, If you lose something incomprehensible, it’ll take a while to get it back.

@aroacedragongirl @sombrathedragon @inkyxsmiles @yellow-computer-mouse @gay-witches-are-the-best @scrollwyrm @spookys1fan @verrixstudios

[mimimyluv]

Hetalia y/n’s have to stand together, how about England x Reader where y/n admires his tattoos?

anon bless your heart because this lead me down a path of picturing arthur as a prep with secret tattoos and i promptly blacked out. when i woke up i ended up with this oneshot. i hope you enjoy and may your meals always be delicious and your pillow always cold (or warm depending on how you like it lol). also i wasn't sure if you wanted smut, so it's sfw (just to be safe). but it's still suggestive. if you wanted full-blown smut tho just lmk 👍

⏆﹒⬚﹒🍏﹒➲﹒reader admiring arthur's tattoos; gn! reader (nothing specified), 800 words/4k characters, fluff with some suggestive themes. lowercase intended.

the contrast is interesting, you muse.

your lover’s always projected a proper– if not a tad pretentious– image of the quintessential upper-class english man. he has all his clothes and shoes tailored; every thread and button perfectly bespoke (the extra costs just for suit jackets can be somewhat incomprehensible, but he always assures you it is a perfectly good investment. you never complain too much– not when he’s so damn handsome in those same bespoke suits).

he drinks his tea with a pinky up; always, always with the fine, intricately painted porcelain (an antique dating back to the victorian era, he often tells you).

he rubs elbows with the upper echelons of london society; engaging in those stereotypical, hoity-toity activities only people with money to burn can do (polo, horseback riding, fucking golf… it would make you laugh if it weren’t for his tall, elegant frame, with the lean, subtle musculature of the ideal english sportsman).

but beneath that proper exterior, though– there’s something more passionate, something more untamed lurking. while arthur often keeps that side of him under wraps, you have the privilege of being privy to it in numerous ways.

you’re reminded of it as you laze next to him in his sheets, basking in the post-sex afterglow. his back is to you, you can fully take in the smattering of golden freckles across his fair skin, and… oh.

“i haven’t seen this one before.”

you trace your fingers along the merfolk inked on his back. you try to summon some hazy memories from a past gallery date with arthur– ah, yes. it’s a near-identical replica of john william waterhouse’s mermaid, except…

it’s you. replacing the mermaid combing her long, auburn hair is you. you’re in that same, languid pose, with just a long white fabric draped tightly along your body to preserve the barest modicum of modesty. somehow, though– with the sultriness of your eyes, the curve of your bare neck and shoulders– this remaster of waterhouse’s mermaid somehow seems more… suggestive.

“do you like it?” he murmurs, turning over to face you. his forest-green eyes are lidded, light, feathered lashes nearly resting on the top of his freckled cheeks. this is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him; your heart leaps for a split second.

“a tattoo of me?” you say, mock-dryly. still, your face is warm, and you can’t help but smile. “i thought you hated cliches.”

“ah, well.” suddenly, he’s blushing too. his freckles are even more stark against his skin; you barely resist the urge to trace your thumb all over them. “some… can be alright.”

you grin.

“when did you get this?”

“a few weeks after our date to the tate.”

you can’t help but snort out a laugh, fond.

“and you said you were done with tattoos, hm?”

“when i saw that painting,” the pinkness of his cheeks deepen, “i just couldn’t stop seeing you. so one last tattoo couldn’t hurt, i suppose.”

“mhm, it’s not like i mind,” you whisper, drawing a hand down to trace the tudor roses and ivy inked along his ribs, “you know i love your tattoos, arthur.”

“perhaps that’s why i had it done,” he laughs raspily, “you might only want me for my tattoos. needed something to keep the spark alive, don’t you think, my dear?”

“don’t be an idiot.” you lightly chastise him, then draw him closer for a kiss, bracing him by your hand on the back of his head. unlike the heated, passionate kisses you two shared earlier, he moves his mouth against yours slowly and indulgently; the kind of kiss that could lull you to slumber after a long day.

“let me see it again, then.” you say against his lips, quiet and muffled. he smirks, uncharacteristically roguish.

“i believe you just proved my earlier point.”

“oh, shut up.”

he complies anyway, shifting so you can see his back; this time, you can study it more clearly. your face, stark as day– maybe it’s corny, but you can’t help the way your heart leaps at the sight. proper, upper-class arthur kirkland being lovestruck enough to have you permanently inked on his skin, even when he’s eschewed tattoos and everything that can be linked to delinquency in favor of his image. there’s just something truly… amazing about it.

“i wanna see the rest.” you mumble. he rolls over, pretending to grumble.

“maybe you really are just with me for my tattoos, love.”

you ignore him and look over the rest of his tattoos– the tudor roses and ivy on his ribs; the plantagenet lions on his left shoulder; a hobbes’ quote– a great leap in the dark– on his right forearm.

and now, the portrait of you as waterhouse’s mermaid on his back.

“i do love your tattoos, arthur.” you quietly repeat, settling down next to him. you draw nearer, hooking a leg over his body and resting your head against his chest; his heartbeat thrums in a consistent pitter-patter right next to your ear.

“but i love you more.”

he’s silent, but he combs his fingers– long, graceful, and work-worn– through your hair.

“i love you too.”

“yeah.” you smile drowsily. you can see yourself as a merfolk in your hazy mind's eye, forever inked on his back. “i know.”

[ranticore]

Chapter 3 - To Be Phocid [Qedivar's research]

It's that time again. Ishmael is a teenage boy, fair warning.

I'm posting this on mobile so I cba linking the previous chapters but go into the siren tag to find them.

x

Following these events, and at Maris’s insistence, Ishmael began to keep a journal. To the delight of this author, his writing was deep, introspective, and highly detailed. From now on, I no longer had to rely on pieced together scraps and reports, but from a primary source. As such, the way these events are related will shift a little, but that is only for events concerning Ishmael.

Cherta, unfortunately, did not keep a journal at this time and remains frustratingly opaque, given Ishmael’s somewhat biased recounting of their activities. Although one must concede to the difficulties of keeping a journal underwater, before the age of sub-aquatic writing systems, and with eighteen other overambitious adolescents in relatively close proximity.

Ishmael’s journal was recorded on a computerified device and was not written by hand, though his deep dream education had serviced to educate him in handwriting skills. This was tested when he was younger, as part of an evaluation to determine the extent of his dexterity. Although the notion of a form of writing which is stored in a purely hypothetical space is very odd, especially in its permanency, it has enabled us to access his thoughts at this day and age, whereas traditional aquatic knot-writing would have long since rotted away.

He wrote in the language of the Predecessors, which I believe to be the root of all air-speaking language families. The translation of these texts is what has taxed me more than any other part of this process, aside from the grievous bodily harm, and it has taken a fantastic span of time to achieve this translation. I cannot credit my sources for fear of implicating them but you can be assured that the finest minds of the Spire collaborated on this project. This Predecessor tongue is what is spoken in all of the videos, enabling me to learn it to a conversational level, though I am hardly fluent.

Some of the journal is rendered untranslatable due to it referring to objects or concepts which were considered common knowledge at the time, requiring no additional definition. These concepts or objects will be clearly marked. However, I believe much of the text to be familiar to many people, telling of the frustration and longing common and recognisable today. That said, I believe it is also important not to take for granted the relatability.

Ishmael is not always familiar to us and existed in a time we would find nigh incomprehensible. Do not take this as reason to doubt his interiority or personhood, and do not fall into the trap of believing that you would have done better in his place, that you would have seen clearly what he obviously did not (and had good reason not to). They may have been phocids, or the predecessors of phocids, but they were new. If you were the first of your kind, could you do better?

I will now present the text in chronological order, starting from the eve of his sixteenth birthday:

-

Entry 1 – I hate seeing that baby siphonid. It’s still moving. It drags itself around on the leg the researchers didn’t take. Now I’m just going to remember this forever, since I wrote it down. Great. I hate that fucking noise. Why can’t they just get it to shut up?

Thank [deity]. They took it away.

Update – it didn’t even taste good.

-

Entry 2 - Maris told me to talk more about my feelings. What does she know? Nobody understands me anyway. I don’t think they can feel all that on their face like me. The sipho noise kept touching me. The researchers are always talking about hydrofoils and antennae but I bet they don’t know what I do - how the siphos talk to each other. I told Callum and he didn’t know what I meant, even though he has a beard.

Talked to Lee again about sex since Dan said he wouldn’t tell me himself. I don’t think Lee told the truth about a lot of that stuff. The other kids sometimes joke around a bit too much, but it is kinda funny I guess.

Update - Dan shouted at me for asking, but now I have proof Lee was wrong.

-

Entry 3 – The phocids click at each other underwater with their tongues.

Dan got so angry after I pulled my face hair out. He made the interns [untranslatable] search my room for the hairs and they actually found them. They didn’t even do anything with it, just put it in a bag and sealed it away. Looks like nobody wants it at all. Dan says Atom spent 120 billion nua making me, so I think one face hair is worth a few million. If I started selling them to the people outside the lab, I could buy my own stake of land on Siren just like them. I wouldn’t let Lee in. My fingers are probably worth a couple billion each.

Should I

-

Entry 4 – Emer (the intern) looked at me like I did something wrong when she changed my pillowcases.

Spilled bile EVERYWHERE when they were testing me. I keep thinking about somehow saving it and trying to sell it. I’m supposed to be a digestive model for Siren food, so my insides are probably worth a lot. I should ask Dan when he calms down.

Callum came around to talk to Dan again. He’s getting really tall, he’s taller than me now even when I stand up straight. He’s so skinny, like the baby siphonids (I can snap one in half with just my teeth now). When Callum was there, he didn’t want to look at me, but I get it. They didn’t even cook the siphonid this time, it was raw and with the shell on. His leg is the same width as one of them.

Emer won’t stop changing my pillowcases. Is there a way to prevent them from smelling like that?? Callum hasn’t been around so I can’t ask. Maris thinks it’s just because people my age start getting sweaty but Dan specifically told me he made me not have sweat glands anywhere but my hands. Then he said the phocids do have sweat glands. I still don’t get the point of sweating if you’re already a stupid wet rat who lives in the

-

Entry 5 – I’m seventeen now. Since I’m an adult, I decided to stop being reticent around the phocids. I want to know if they found a comfortable way to walk without the skin coming off their tails. So I went to talk to them today for the first time. There is a window where you can do it, they let it open ever since the climate control got busted again last month.

Cherta is really weird. I knew they couldn’t stay in the pool for very long because they might have a seizure but apparently it can happen any time, not just underwater. They have a button implant that makes their muscles relax. Anyway, their tails have thicker skin than mine so that was useless. But it is still worthwhile, I think, to meet with the phocids. They remind me why I am a human, and they are not. I kind of pity them because all they're ever going to be is a bunch of test subjects in a tiny swimming pool.

Cherta told me that one of the phocids died a year ago. I don’t remember Dan ever talking about it to me, but they said it was a big deal. Apparently they got pressure sickness when climate control broke the first time. I think Cherta broke it the second time, they sounded too proud to mention it. I don’t get it. Anyway, breaking stuff in the lab is against the rules and I think I’m going to tell Dan about that.

-

Entry 6 – I made the right choice. Cherta got so angry when they found out I told on them that they had another seizure. The other phocids had to pull them out of the pool. Dan thought I did the right thing but I don’t think he liked me going to tell Cherta about it afterwards, told me no one likes a snitch. Well, then, what am I supposed to do? Just let it happen? I hope Cherta chokes on that gross pool water next time.

Dan suggested I go do something other than visit the phocids and I agree, they’re clearly not worth my time. I went to see Callum instead but he wasn’t in. He has a games console, I saw him show it off to Lee the other day. I wonder if he’d let me try it.

[End of Journal Entries]

-

It paints an interesting picture. As Ishmael mentions, Cherta suffered permanent neurological issues as a result of their birth mishaps. This was a point of contention within the lab, beyond Ishmael’s knowledge; the finance manager of the settlement questioned the wisdom of keeping a test subject in an aquatic locomotion study group who could not spend much time underwater. Every time, however, Dan Loris would respond that Cherta now provided essential information about phocid neurology and drowning mechanisms.

The phocid whose death Ishmael mentions was number seventeen, Ambla. It is highly likely that number seventeen’s death was accidental, but the circumstances were not caused by a failure of the lab’s climate system.

I have found the experimental notes from that day; Ambla was brought to an isolated chamber which was controlled by the climate system, with its own test pool, and the quality of the atmosphere was changed to match that of the Precursor home planet. The force of gravity was thus increased. What the Humans did not expect was Ambla’s sudden inability to swim to the surface. They inhaled water, which settled in their lungs and caused them to drown even after they had been pulled out of the pool.

Dan expressed grief in his notes, and surprise. He did not understand why such a thing would occur and blamed the climate system for somehow altering the test beyond his parameters. This is likely what led to Cherta’s misconception that the climate system had killed one of their friends, and their subsequent sabotage of the climate system every few months after that.

But any phocid or selkie reading this will intimately recognise the problem, and I believe the mystery of Ambla’s death may now be solved. The water taken to fill the pool was likely Tel!am’s Blood, a phenomenon all sea-faring people will know about. The Precursors, it seemed, were unfamiliar with it, and had pumped water in to the pool which nobody could swim in. But with the increased gravity, even the fittest phocid would struggle to rise in shallow water.

Regardless, there exists a substantial gap between that last journal entry and the next. Almost a year, in fact, when Ishmael did not write at all, and neither did he participate in Maris’s therapy sessions. I do, however, have a copy of Callum’s journal with me which provides at least half of the narrative, incomplete as it is.

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 29

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 747

Masterlist

You never run out of things that can go wrong, (Y/n). That's Murphy's law, and it's the truth.

For example: Christmas eve is a disaster. Your grandparents are fighting the whole time, your aunt is driven to tears at the table, you barely eat - you don't want to, in front of your grandma - and when we finally escape and walk back to the AirBnB, it starts to rain.

This is not the romantic kind of rain in which we could kiss: it pours down cold and hard, like liquid ice. We run and by the time we get inside, we are frozen to the bone. Then, your phone rings and you answer, and it's your mother.

Fucking Murphy's law.

You disappear into the bedroom, and you don't come out for an hour.

When you do, you seem angry.

“What's going on?” I ask.

“Nothing,” you say.

“Nothing?” I press.

“Oh, you know. I just got a whole bunch of baseless accusations hurled at me, that's all. Did you know I'm a spoiled brat? Oh, and also, apparently I'm a whore.”

I frown.

“Your mom said that to you?”

“Oh, no. She let her boyfriend do the talking. Fucking Steef. I bet he's been giving her all kinds of ideas.”

You shiver. You did not get changed while you were on the phone, and your shirt has dried but your jeans are still wet. You are going to catch a cold this way, but this is not the moment to try and get you to change your clothes.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “He sounds awful.”

“Whatever,” you say, throwing your hands into the air. “It's my fault for trying to contact her. I know what she's like when she goes off the radar. She's in man-land, population: her and whatever guy she's fucking.”

“And what happens when they break up?”

“I don't know,” you say. “She'll find the next guy. And the next. It never stops. One of her boyfriends when I was a kid used to hit us, her and me both. So I told my grandparents, and then she blamed me when he left.” You pull a hand through your hair. “And the thing is, I actually felt guilty.”

You've never told me this much about your mother at once.

“That's not fair to you,” I say.

“No,” you agree. “No, it isn't. Well, I'm done. I'm done with her. For good this time.”

But you're not done.

You stomp around and you don't know what to do with yourself. This is the kind of anger you can't put anywhere - the kind of anger that makes you shut me out. I try to talk you down, but you're quiet now. You won't speak and this was not how our first Christmas was supposed to go, (Y/n).

“Look at me,” I say, taking you by the shoulders.

“Let me go, Joe.”

“Look at me,” I repeat, taking your chin in my hands. I'm rougher with you than I want to be but I need you to calm down. You were just moving glasses around, and I'm genuinely worried you might start throwing them if you stay this mad. “Your mom sucks.”

You laugh humorlessly.

“No fucking kidding.”

“So forget about her.”

“It's not that easy.”

Out of nowhere, you start to cry. Big, heaving sobs that make you almost unable to breathe. I pull you against me, and I'm surprised when you let me because I really thought you would push me away.

“I'm sorry,” you say. You're almost incomprehensible. “Tonight was horrible and I'm taking my shit out on you and I'm sorry.”

I shush you, pulling you against me tighter. It's not your fault dinner sucked, and I don't want you to think you can't talk to me. I want you to talk to me. About everything. I want you to never shut me out again.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You're okay.”

But you're not okay. Your mom messed you up, I see that now. And she's not done. She's never going to stop, I'm sure of that. She is an emotional vampire, and you're her main supply.

She’s the reason you let your grandmother dictate what you eat. She's the reason people like Jasper and Mitch think they can do whatever they want to you. You can't defend yourself against her, so you don't defend yourself against anyone else.

I have to do it for you. And I think there's only one way to do that.

“It's going to be okay,” I say. “I've got you.”

And I do. I've got you.

[peachyfnaf]

Morning peachy!

Happy Friday, I was scrolling through your blog and literally didn't realize you were the one that made the Nexus design that lives in my head rent free. I love your art and vibes ❤️🥰❤️

I'm at the part when Old Moon is back and met Earth it's SO AWKWARD

I don't like it (not mad he's back but it's just the entire lead up has me upset)

I was watching Baby Moon/New Moon and Earth like you said and idk, I think it's really messed up how everything went down. Earth seemed to jump to a lot of conclusions about New Moon and she seemed really upset but also I don't think what New Moon said to push her away was actually that mean. Maybe it's just me?

I also didn't like how Sun went to others for help because he's so lost on what to do with New Moon and everyone was just "let's kill him"

I'm so messed up over this....

What's your thoughts on this? I want to know your observations 👀✍️

First off,

SNIFFS. bro your art and your vibes are INCREDIBLE so that compliment means a whole lot to me. tysm <3

Second off, oh-ho-ho. my friend, you've just opened up pandora's box for me. this response is gonna be a long one, let's see how incomprehensible it will get-

(Also, just so anyone who doesn't know me knows, I'm currently not watching the security breach shows due to a bit of burnout, but mostly due to me not liking the current sams arc. I'm just avoiding it for the sake of me mental health. sooo if I bring up something that has already been acknowledged/fixed/changed in canon, forgive me <3. for sams, I have knowledge up to about "brothers REUNITE in vrchat", so. just go into this knowing that lol)

OKAY. AHEM. DISCLAIMERS DONE. HERE WE GO.

Don't have much to say about "I don't like it (not mad he's back but it's just the entire lead up has me upset)" other than I 1000% agree. I (again, personally) actually don't like that he's back, mostly because the lead up to O.M's return felt very rushed, it makes O.M's original sacrifice for K.C completely in vain, and O.M has essentially just taken N.M's role in the family now that N.M is where he is now, as Nexus. it was all very frustrating to see happen.

And, whooh, I can go on and on and on about how O.M has shown many signs that he hasn't actually improved as a person/brother as much as he claims to have, but I think that harpers on spoiler territory for you Sab so I'll save that for another day dkjfhsdfsd but as for the SECOND part of your statement...

"...I think it's really messed up how everything went down. Earth seemed to jump to a lot of conclusions about New Moon and she seemed really upset but also I don't think what New Moon said to push her away was actually that mean. Maybe it's just me?"

IT 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 JUST 👏 YOU 👏

From what I can tell, actually a lot of people agree with you!!! (me included). this leads to kind of a divide in-fandom between people who are on the families side, and those who are on New Moon's/Nexus'. and from what I've seen, even the people who aren't on either side just kind of find Nexus pathetic and emo. which is 100% fair and understandable, considering his "villain arc" was built off of shakey ground lol. AND while I am 100% a N.M/Nexus apologist, that wont stop me from acknowledging that he fucked up bad in some places sdkfjhsdjfk really, everyone messed up a lot to get into the situation they are now story-wise. it's not just one sides fault, and it's draining seeing people trying to make the dilemma one of black and white morals when it is 20x more complex than that. OKAY MINI RANT OVER, ONTO WHAT YOU REFERENCED SKFJDHSDF so. did Earth have every right to be hurt by what New Moon said? oh, 100% yeah, her brother just insulted and demeaned her to her face, ofc it would hurt.

But what really confuses me is how personally she took his insults??? Right before, genuinely, right before that confrontation; Sun warned her that Moon might say something he didn't mean. he warned her, because he knows from experience.

and yet Earth took it to heart??? w. why??? she knows a lot about mental health stuff, or she's supposed to, right??? surely she'd understand that it's a very common trauma/fear response for people to become aggressive and lash out, even against those who they love and care for??? right???

And I also agree that she was jumping to conclusions, or at least misinterpreting N.M's goals/intentions/reasonings. when N.M called her "not a real therapist", she took the greatest offense to that. but. the thing is. he wasn't??? wrong???? did he say it in a rude as hell and aggressive way??? yup, no denying that! but he's not wrong.

Earth isn't a licensed therapist. she is an animatronic with downloaded protocols and processes given to her by the Creator in attempts to try and be a therapist. but she literally admits it to herself multiple times in the show that she's not a real therapist, she just does her best. so it always confused me why she took N.M's statement to heart, because genuinely, for him, her best (or more specifically, her kind and patient style of therapy) wasn't enough. which is v tragic, much ow, big pain.

At the time of being confronted, N.M was exhausted, desperate, spiraling, hallucinating, not wanting to ask for help, lying to both himself and the family, in mourning- basically holding on by a thread. so when cornered, (literally, he physically was cornered in P&S) he lashed out and said mean things to be able to push those he cared about away and "get to safety". it was wrong of him to do, yes, but considering everything we knew about how Moon's (both New and Old) react to stressful situations from prior tragedies, it was to be expected.

BUT THEN??? EVERYONE JUST KIND OF GAVE UP ON HIM AFTER THAT????? he made one mistake. one. one mistake. and suddenly everyone was all like "alright, we've got to kill him." I??? DOES ANYONE ELSE THINK THAT'S A LITTLE BIT FUCKED UP??? HELLO?????

I'm not denying that N.M was becoming unstable. I'm not denying that he was becoming aggressive. he was, and that's why he needed help. he needed someone to stick by him even as he was pushing them away, to love him even at his lowest, and no one did. Imo, at least Sun has the excuse of being traumatized by Old Moon's past actions, which could explain why he was so desperate for everyone else's input, but Earth and Lunar??? Monty and Puppet too??? hello???? why the hell are you doing your brother/friend (who is doing all of this TO GET SOLAR BACK BECAUSE HE WANTS TO MAKE THEM ALL HAPPY, MIND YOU) like this???? HELLO????

And I'm also bringing up that Nexus still hasn't really. done anything??? in the current point of the story??? the worst thing he's done so far is rough up O.M a bit. but other than that, all he did was say cruel/threatening things to/about the other Celestials. he's yet to act on.. anything?? he hasn't killed a single person. and you know who have killed people?? Sun, Lunar, Solar, Old Moon, Puppet, Monty... and yet?? some people see him as an irredeemable monster???? it's. strange to me. it's obvious he's hurting, it's obvious he still cares. and he's literally killing himself to try and make the pain that comes with caring stop- isolating himself, poisoning himself, and literally ripping out his own emotions, idk guys, those don't seem like the actions of an irredeemable villain, but maybe it's just me sdkfljhsdf

As expected, this turned into an essay. BUT I'm done now, me-me needs to go take a shower gkfdjhhfgjsd thank you for the excuse to yap, Sabronda!!! I love New Moon/Nexus so much they're my ultimate cringefail. I'm certain they have an edgy Sonic OC somewhere in that evil lab of theirs

[animentality]

Not to send you an essay but do you ever think about how Gortash was the only person in the whole game who didn’t want anything from Durge but Durge. Just them, as a person. Like yes he wanted the netherstone, and wanted the alliance. But what I mean is there were no prereqs for Durge as a person. Every other companion, every other NPC even, wanted Durge to either resist and refuse Bhaal or pursue power and claim their birthright. Everyone had their two cents for what Durge should or shouldn’t do irrespective of how Durge actually felt about it. It made any friendship or love offered to them conditional, even in the case of their companions. It was always “I’ll stand by you, IF”. To be fair, not necessarily unreasonable for the normal person to set boundaries on murder and such lol. But my point is that they all wanted something from Durge first.

But Gortash. OF ALL PEOPLE. Gortash didn’t want anything from them but them. Even for Durge’s biggest supporters in either moral direction - Jaheira, Sceleritas, etc - it was not that simple. Yet Gortash’s friendship with Durge (and to be clear I think they were so in love but I say friendship here to emphasise that even on top of or irrespective of any romance, they were genuinely friends too!) was unconditional. “This changes nothing” is a line I know we all talk about to death but god. That is genuinely unconditional. It is!

(If we want to push the delusion a bit further, that’s a declaration of the unconditional nature of their alliance, which can be chalked up to nothing less than real and honest love as far as I’m concerned. He has no other reason to not care that Durge just said yeah the entire divine commandment part of this mission is in the pot. But Gortash was like I Do Not Care! And he meant it! “Oh yes incomprehensibly powerful beings came to us in our dreams and asked us to do all of this in their names in the first place, and you just pissed on that, but no biggie!” Same short-tempered petty bastard who kicks you hard in the shin with his metal-toe boot if you accidentally hit him. Who straight up attacks you if you show up to his office without any of the netherstones and say you forgot them or whatever. Guy who just kills you if you GIVE HIM THE STONES LOL. But he doesn’t care even slightly that Durge said fuck off to the lord of murder who ordered this whole plot to start? Doesn’t yell, doesn’t ask Durge what were they thinking, just goes oh ok. He makes me insane btw)

I’m also painfully aware that Durge will never find that kind of unconditional support with anyone else, ever. I just feel like this would haunt my resistance Durge for the rest of his days tbh.

(And like. My resistance Durge loves Jaheira, she’s the parent he never had and she means the world to him post-canon, he follows her around like a lost puppy because ultimately he is one but I have to wonder if he would lie awake at night with the niggling thought that maybe what he has with Jaheira would not survive if he acted any other way. Plus the thought that Gortash knew him at his absolute worst, and loved him anyway. And maybe that wasn’t a GOOD thing, morally - a GOOD person shouldn’t have loved him like that, right? - but he loved him anyway. I don’t think my Durge would ever ever get over it. Especially with the fact that he can’t even remember 99% of their relationship. Gortash can’t ACTUALLY haunt Durge cause Bane is busy using his soul as a stress ball but in every metaphorical way. Durge is haunted.)

Tldr Gortash is the guy who says “just be yourself <3” and I think that’s beautiful

You know, you hit the nail on the head.

Of course it's not unreasonable to expect your friends and lovers to stipulate, that they will only love you as long as you don't go on a murderous rampage.

That's totally reasonable, that's normal, I agree with it on principle.

But. But.

As you said.

Gortash loved you even when you went on a murderous rampage.

I am obsessed with him, because he loved the dark urge without reservation, believing in their ability to control their urge, but also admiring their intelligence and their talents.

He knew what they were from the start, and he accepted it!

And he could still love them!

I just don't think anyone else in the entire goddamn game could say that!

And that's why I'm obsessed with Durgetash.

You get me.

It's about loving someone for who they are, and not what they are to you.

They were never just the Chosen of Bhaal, whom he must work with, not to him.

Never.

They were never the Bhaalspawn, the savage dark urge, the scourge of Faerun.

They were themselves. And he liked that.

Guys, he LIKED them.

[pluckyredhead]

It's time for more Fourth World thoughts! Previously I've covered the comics of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Now let's talk about the 2000s.

Orion (2000): AHHHHHHH. If you read no other Fourth World book (besides Kirby ofc), please read this one. It is so good and it is so epic and Orion makes so many well intentioned bad decisions and suffers so much. I devoured all 25 issues in 2 days and immediately wanted to reread it. Writing and art are both Walt Simonson and he gives this book such tragic grandeur. He also does my favorite thing which is multiple slow-burning subplots, some of which lasted so long that I was afraid they wouldn't be resolved, but no, every loose end is wrapped up in a satisfying (ish) way by the last issue and I love everyone in this bar. And the art! THE ART!!!

So basically, Orion kills Darkseid (again lol) and becomes the new ruler of Apokolips, and decides he is going to drag this planet over to the side of good kicking and screaming, which...doesn't work out so well for him. Ultimately he winds up semi-accidentally in possession of the Anti-Life Equation, which allows him to completely control people, so he uses it to force people to be good, which...baby, no. This series is like 40% Orion whump, 35% Orion being a badass, 5% Lightray and Orion being blatantly in love, 5% Scott and Orion making dramatic gestures of brotherly devotion, and 5% Orion wearing a stupid hat that I unironically wish I could buy and wear.

It looks like his helmet! I NEED IT.

Also, during his Stupid Hat Era, Orion briefly acquires an orphan girl sidekick, and like...look at my icon. This is my GREATEST WEAKNESS. Simonson, why did you come for me like that???

I have only two quibbles with this series:

1. It's the early 2000s so the only female characters of any significance (besides the aforementioned orphan girl sidekick) are femme fatales who are drawn in ludicrously skimpy outfits and sex inch heels. Now to be fair, Darkseid wears a miniskirt, but the degree of cheesecake of these two characters was ridiculous.

2. The last issue reveals that Scott possesses the Anti-Life Equation naturally, and he once accidentally killed dozens of people with it, and he's tormented by both of these things. Which...the actual issue this story is told in is really good, and I think it's a really interesting idea to have Scott possess the Equation, but I don't love the idea of weighing down this optimistic character who values freedom above all with such a traumatic history of, uh, accidental mass murder. He already grew up in a torture orphanage! Hasn't he suffered enough?!

But honestly, the overall series is so good that I'll let it slide. PLEASE READ ORION (2000). THANK YOU.

Seven Soldiers: Mister Miracle (2005): This is part of a set of miniseries Grant Morrison did: there was Seven Soldiers #0, and then 7 4-issue minis, one for each of the Soldiers, and then the whole story concluded in Seven Soldiers #1. I only read Seven Soldiers and the Mister Miracle miniseries because I'm a ridiculous person when it comes to reading comics, but I'm not going to read 24 issues that have nothing to do with the Fourth World.

Anyway, the Mister Miracle mini is actually about Shilo Norman, not Scott, and it's pretty good, even if Shilo should know perfectly well who Darkseid and his entourage are. The surrounding issues were incomprehensible, but maybe they would have made more sense if I had read all the other minis. On the other hand, maybe not...this is Morrison we're talking about, after all. Anyway talk about making comics as inaccessible as possible. Great job, everyone.

Death of the New Gods (2007): I knew right away this comic was going to be dogshit because of a) the title and b) the fact that it's a tie-in to the worst event DC has ever published, Countdown to Final Crisis, but hoo boy, it is DOGSHIT.

Basically, some mysterious being starts murdering New Gods, starting with Lightray and Barda, the latter of whom is murdered in the kitchen - you know, where women belong. Scott then dons a truly idiotic goth version of his costume and the rest of the book is mainly Scott, Orion, and Superman flailing around aimlessly and failing to figure out who the killer is while everyone from New Genesis and Apokolips is slaughtered. It's a truly godawful murder mystery in which implausible suspects are accused at absolute random (the Forever People, the pacifist hippies! Orion, the least sneaky being in existence!) even though Superman deduces the killer (sort of) in #5 and tells the other characters, so there's no reason for them to still be trying to solve it.

Anyway at the risk of ruining this comic for you (impossible, it comes pre-ruined), the killer turns out to be the Infinity Man, but he's actually being piloted by the Source, which is eradicating the New Gods and harvesting their energy in order to create a Fifth World. In #7, a horrified Scott is like "But I've worshiped you all my life! Don't you care about any of us?" and the Source is like, "Eh." The most spiritual and reverent aspect of the Fourth World, and Jim Starlin came along and just dropped a little turd right on top of it (after, of course, blatantly copying Darkseid when he created Thanos).

The art (also by Starlin) is hideous, and the plotting is atrocious, as he desperately tries to stretch six issues of story at best into eight, plus dragging each issue out over 30 pages instead of the normal 22. Everyone is wildly out of character. The only vaguely good thing about the book is that Scott and Orion finally get to spend a significant amount of time together, but given the context, I really don't think it's worth it.

In conclusion: "rocks fall, everyone dies" turns out to not be a good idea for a story! Who knew!

Final Crisis (2008): Well, after 16 years of successfully avoiding this story, I finally read it. You win this one, Morrison.

I have avoided Final Crisis since it came out because it felt so emblematic to me of the worst of late 2000s DC: literally constant crossovers with histrionic stakes, characters being slaughtered left and right, whatever the fuck they did to Mary Marvel in this story. I know it has a good reputation, and if I'm being honest, I do think the first 5 1/2 issues of it are pretty good. On the other hand, if I wasn't very familiar with 2000s DC, I think this would be a very confusing book to read, the final 1 1/2 issues dissolve into incomprehensible, self-indulgent nonsense full of obscure characters and OCs randomly dropped in just to make it all harder for the reader. I'm sorry, I know many people consider Morrison's habit of writing comics that you need a companion volume, twenty Wikipedia tabs, and a Reddit forum to understand to be a feature, not a bug, but it infuriates me. It's like the structure of the Seven Soldiers series(es) up above. Aren't comics impenetrable enough? Must we gatekeep with every page?

Anyway the New Gods stuff: they're all dead, but all the evil ones managed to land on Earth as disembodied souls, and are possessing various humans. The only good one is Orion, who dies at the very beginning when he is shot by Darkseid in the future shooting him with a bullet that travels back in time. I love goofy comics shit but for some reason this one strikes me as real dumb. Also Orion literally died twice in the comic that was about all the New Gods dying, so...hm.

Anyway the evil New Gods take over the planet with the Anti-Life Equation, and again, the pacing and storytelling are actually really good for most of this. But there's also all the worst the late 2000s had to offer, like Mary Marvel in the WORST costume of all time and Supergirl flashing panty shots at the reader while they beat each other up and call each other sluts, or Tawky Tawny being beaten to a pulp before ripping out Kalibak's entrails. Tawky fucking Tawny. SIGH. Also they keep miscoloring Shilo as white. NOT GREAT.

Honestly at this point I'm like begging for the New 52 to happen and put me out of my misery, so...good job, DC? I want to go back to Orion (2000), that was great.

Next up: the 2010s! Which is all the New Gods books, they haven't had a series yet this decade. We're almost done, gang.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Once, Lily Evans had loved Severus Snape. It hadn't been in a romantic way. She didn't want to date him or be his girlfriend. But she truly loved him as a friend.

Back in the day, Lily thought no one could get her like Severus did. They were close. They got along well. They were interested in the same things. He made her laugh when she was her saddest. She was the only one who could make him snap out of his self pity. They were more than friends. Best friends.

And Lily didn't understand why others didn't like Severus. She didn't understand why others hated him or had something bad to say about him. From her mother who stared at him with reject, to Petunia who couldn't stand him and was always calling him nasty, to her father who didn't like him when he liked everyone "Just think my sweet Lily deserves better friends" he used to say.

Mary and Marlene couldn't stand Severus as well. They said he was weird and rude, that he'd never opened himself to them even if they tried to be friendly.

Then there were The Marauders who were bloody awful with Sev just because he was different (according to Lily). Sev was the victim of James's stupid mean jokes and Sirius’s humiliating pranks. Peter just followed them. They were constantly on him. Making fun of their nose and his hair.

Lily knew Severus was shy. He might have been tackless, serious and might not understand other people's sense of humor. But she knew other version of him. And he was actually funny, he was actually nice. He'd just suffered a lot.

But then Remus came along and he hadn't also liked Severus. He also didn't understand why Lily was friends with him.

That left Lily to be the only one to understand Severus. The only one to like him. And for Lily the rest of the world was crazy. She was against everyone else when it came to Severus.

Not for a second she thought it was Severus's fault. He suffered abuse at home. He suffered bullying and incomprehension from other kids at school. He had no friends for being the teacher's pet, weird, awkward and lonely. Severus was just a poor victim.

"I get that nobody likes me, Lily. I am useless. If my own bloody father doesn't like me, who would? Sometimes I think you're the only person who will love me"

Poor Severus, Lily constantly thought. Why doesn't people try to get to know him and actually like him?

Turned out Lily had been absolutely blind. After she heard Severus telling some Slytherin boys how she was easy and he could and had done what he wanted with her, things started changing between them.

Lily had been doing nothing but forgive him. He messed up, he justified it with the misery he was going through, Lily felt sorry for him, she forgave him. And the cycle started again.

For Lily it was normal and natural. She had seen friends fighting and making up instantly. Why wouldn't Lily give hers another chance? For old times sake.

People did the impossible for the people they loved, right? For their best friends, right? Then why did everything felt so wrong?

Lily had fucked up all the progress she had with James Potter.

"It's so rude not to say hello to someone, Potter!!" Lily sounded like an insane person yelling that after James and the boys had said hello to Mary and Marlene but completely ignored her. To be fair she was sad all the time. She felt guilty all the time. She didn't sleep well, she had lost her appetite and she was losing her concentration in classes.

James Potter gave her a hateful glance and turned without a word left to say. And it hurt. In the past, Lily had begged for Potter to ignore her ass for one second. But that was before getting to know him. That was before the friendship. That was before Petunia's wedding and the kiss they shared.

"What happened between you and Potter, Lily?" Mary asked as The Marauders walked away. James, Sirius and Peter angry and Remus pitiful but loyal to James.

"That man worshipped the floor you walked in" Marlene added with concern.

"You even said that you might fancy him... After your sister's wedding...That you felt like a princess next to him"

Lily had enjoyed every second of it. How she danced with James. How she chatted and laughed with James. Their kiss when Lily was slightly drunk. The way he had been a gentleman with her family. How well he fitted in on the contrary of Sev.

Lily thought she could actually feel things for James. That he could turn into her prince charming. But that was before knowing that he was doing all of it for a game.

"He changed the game, Lily!" Severus had said "How can you be so stupid?! He acted like your friend so that you could fall into his game. Now he has probably bragged to his bloody servants about how he finally got you to kiss him! And you are a fool to believe he is not going to get over you now that you've given in!"

Of course Lily felt guilty for being an idiot. She thought James had changed for real. But Severus reminded her of who she was dealing with. James Potter and his friends had been tormentors of Sev for years. How could Lily betray her best friend like that?

"Don't worry" Severus added as Lily started crying "I have a plan to get back at him"

Not Mary or Marlene knew about how Lily had turned all on her. Telling Potter that the only reason she'd kissed him was to win a bet she'd done with Severus. Although it was false, Lily wouldn't give Potter the satisfaction of having played with her.

"Lily, If what James told me is true, then you were awful with him" Marlene said carefully.

"Now I am the awful one? How about everything he did!" Lily did yell a bit.

"You aren't a spiteful person, babe" Mary prompted "You aren't like this. You wouldn't hurt someone to win a bet"

"You're right!! I'm not a fool anymore! I'm sick and tired of people stepping over me!!"

Now if Lily had told herself she had done the right thing, that Severus was her best friend first and above everyone, then why did she feel so dreadful?

"Come on, Lily" Severus appeared now before Lily could explain anything to her friends "Thought we were having dinner outside"

Marlene immediately rolled her eyes with his presence. Mary tutted with disdain. If Potter was the bad guy, why did the girls like him so much? Why were they rooting for Lily to be with him and not Severus?

"Don't you see she is busy?" Marlene spat.

"We were talking to her, Snape" Mary added.

Why couldn't them get along with Snape if he was as good as Lily thought?

"She agreed to eat with me, didn't you Lily?"

Why did Lily feel so guilty? For her Severus had done the impossible to make her forgive his mistakes. Now Lily was making up for falling into Potter's trap and hurting Severus by kissing him. She was just fighting for her friendship. And his conditions were not getting along with The Marauders. Any of them. It was a sacrifice to make Severus happy. It wasn't even a sacrifice, she didn't like the bullies of those wankers, did she?

"I am sorry, girls" Lily said, swallowing the knot on her throat "I did promise... Sorry"

Lily followed Severus even though she didn't want to. Even though her friends looked worried and irritated. Even though it felt wrong. Why did she feel this way?

She was quiet as they ate. For the first time in the history of their relationship, Severus was the happy one, the chatty one. Lily didn't know how to act anymore. She stared at Severus and wondered who was he? Was she right to trust him?

Through Lily's distraction, she dropped her glass of juice all over the table. She cried in apology as if spilling her juice had been the worst mistake in her life. Then she felt even more awful.

Severus just smiled finding Lily's silliness adorable and amusing.

"Don't worry about it, Lily" he said as he helped her clean.

"I'm so silly" Lily sighed "I ruined our dinner"

Severus chuckled "You didn't"

"I can't get you another plate" Lily said, mostly to get out of there and take a break from him. Why did she want to run away? Severus was staring at her without discretion "I know how much you like meat pie... You were enjoying it..."

"I love you, Lily" Severus responded with a snort.

How much Lily had dreamed for a boy to fall in love with her, like in the novels. She fantasized about romance. And she thought no one would glance at her that way.

When Severus almost kissed her on New Year's, she even considered giving him a chance. Didn't she read about the girl who realized at the end of the movie that she had been in love with her best friend all along?

But then Severus had fucked it up miserably. Now he hadn't stopped saying it since they fixed things. He had confessed his feelings claiming what he felt for Lily was real, on contrast of what Potter felt. But everytime Severus said it, Lily felt more and more uncomfortable.

For some reason it didn't sound genuine. It sounded awful. It sounded as if she was his most precious possession. As if he owned her or something.

"I'm sorry" Severus snorted and rubbed his neck as he saw how Lily stiffened. "I just can't stop saying it now... I just love you"

When he scooped closer, Lily flinched and froze.

"I know you don't feel the same, Lily" Severus sighed "But I promise I am going to make you love me... We're going to be so happy that you won't even remember everything that wanker did to you"

Lily was too frozen and uncomfortable to respond. She was actually glad her food was covered in juice because she wasn't hungry anymore.

Then Severus pulled her in for a hug and Lily's eyes filled with tears. It wasn't comfortable hugging him. She didn't feel butterflies. She didn't even feel the tender she used to feel for him. She felt disgust. She didn't know if it was of him or herself.

Lily was starting to believe that Severus Snape wasn't the man she thought he was. Maybe the world wasn't wrong. Maybe they were all right and she was the one to be mistaken. There was a reason why everyone hated Snape. Perhaps they all saw what she failed to see.

If Lily had to stop being friends with who she wanted because of Severus, if she had to stop doing what she pleased, change and live for him, then maybe this was a toxic relationship.

Maybe Severus didn't love her at all. He was just obsessed with her. So Lily considered for a second about leaving him. But she was scared of hurting him. She was scared of breaking his heart. She still had little care for him. Would she be able to cut him off?

"Sometimes, you just have to choose yourself above others, sunshine" the voice of her father said inside her head.

Lily knew what she had to do. She just had to find the right moment.

[sainzinnorris]

love of my life: a brocedes fic.

SUMMARY:

lewis had always loved racing. there was never a doubt about it. ever since he could remember, he's always known this is what he's always wanted to do. he's certain he's never been this sure of anything else.

you see, the thing is, when lewis hamilton knows and sets his mind onto something, he'll do anything in order to achieve it. even if requires destroying himself and his best friend in the process.

because essentially that's what it took to achieve it.

— where lewis loves racing and nico and can't have one without losing the other.

lewis had always loved racing. there was never a doubt about it. ever since he could remember, he's always known this is what he's always wanted to do. he's certain he's never been this sure of anything else. 

you see, the thing is, when lewis hamilton knows and sets his mind onto something, he'll do anything in order to achieve it. even if it requires destroying himself and his best friend in the process.

because essentially that's what it took to achieve it.

lewis had always loved nico.

loving nico wasn't complicated.

loving nico was almost as simple as telling everyone his favorite ice cream flavor. It was always the same, although arguably simplistic and basic. but no matter how many times he had vanilla ice cream, it always gave him the same level of comfort and happiness as it did the very first time he had it.

just like nico does.

he thinks it's one of the easiest things he's ever done in his life.

lewis often thought there wouldn't be a single universe where he wouldn't love nico.

he felt like his soul was forever entwined with nico rosberg, in each and every universe that existed beyond time. 

not loving nico was incomprehensible, it would feel too unrealistic. too out of element.

nico was his best friend and the guy he was in love with.

nobody and nothing could ever take away what they shared.

he was certain of this. he was so darn sure of them.

—

lewis had always loved racing with nico.

racing with nico always brought him joy, comfort, and a spirit of competitiveness only the nico rosberg could bring out in him. 

the races where lewis didn't essentially win, even those races didn't matter as long as he got to race alongside nico. his best friend. 

the burning sting of not winning always lingered around, and lewis had a fair share of experiencing it way back from his karting races. 

but in a hazy, distant, foreign yet familiar memory, he remembers. he remembers how nico was always there, beside him; arm slung around lewis's shoulders , celebrating. clutching onto lewis like their very unlikely friendship was the true prize all along. 

there was a thrilling, adrenaline inducing, strangely intimate feeling about sharing podiums winning together. a feeling lewis could never truly put into words. 

nico hugging onto him, in pure exhilaration and glee as they celebrated their wins together.

he recalls wishing the clock would stop ticking for a while so he could somehow somehow miraculously travel back in time and cherish moments like these forever. 

he also distinctly remembers almost too clearly how he felt like his heart would hammer out of his chest every time he'd hear nico laugh and drown him with champagne and tackle him into a bone crushing victory hug.

so naturally, when they became teammates in formula one, lewis was beyond ecstatic.

he would race with nico in formula one, racing for the same team. win together. celebrate together. just like their karting days.

just like they talked about under the grecian skies. achieve their shared dream together. as equals. as one. 

which lewis knew was the best thing to possibly happen ever. this way he hoped, he could have them both: racing and nico, the two things he truly ever loved. 

he thought he could love these two things in separation. in moderation. let it not consume him for he was a person that existed beyond these two concepts.

these two were simple concepts that meant so much to him. a part of him wonders if they could simply co exist in harmony. just as two distinct things he's in love with. without either of them getting damaged in the process of it. 

except. lewis hamilton is not capable of doing anything in moderation.

somewhere along amidst all of this, he felt the lines between racing and nico blur into one.

he's knee deep in love with racing. it gives him an adrenaline rush. it gives him purpose. it's something he knows he's meant to do. racing, simply put, is the sweetest addition he’s been high on his entire life. 

he's heads over heels in love with nico. every little smile, every bone crushing hug, every sacred and lingering looks, the secret fleeting kisses and the banter. he's loved him from the start, he think he's incapable of not being in love with nico rosberg.

except he doesn't realize that, loving one intensely, meant losing the other one.

—

lewis and nico were happy. happy and content racing each other together. as teammates. as one. 

just reaching for the same thing. a world drivers' championship. it was their shared dream. they would do it together. like they promised, interlocking pinkies, a whispered secret, laying on the sands of the beaches, under the pale moonlight of the greece skies, counting the stars in the skies, their laughter echoing the quiet place, heart brimming with happiness.

lewis genuinely thought nothing could go wrong with them. any mishaps on track were quickly rectified with pizza competitions, luring each other with ice creams and movie marathons. they sorted it out because they were best friends first and race drivers second. 

the mishaps didn't matter because they'd figure it out. together. like they've did all these years. no animosity or hostility. just a shared history, hobbies and heart filled with ever lasting memories was enough to mend any argument or whiplash any on-track incident caused. 

no racing could ever take their very delicate relationship and ruin it even if they tried prying it from their hands, they'd put up a fight together and win together…or so he thought, once upon a time. 

they were the bestest of friends. it was the bestest of times.

—

soon it became the worst of the times as well.

the cracks began to show, slowly and gradually. they always do. it was truly foolish and naive thought to possess, now that he looks back at it. to truly believe there wouldn't be any irreparable cracks that would emerge from the competition, the battle to grasp that one title. 

they were naturally competitive, but this competition soon took a vile form. 

something that's expected from the motorsport, but he didn't think it would truly go this far. he would have never thought it would have gotten this bad. 

what started off as small tricks to bring in more points for the team and themselves, soon developed to mind games to fuck with the other's carefully curated strategies, futile and vicious efforts to clutch onto that championship title, a title they were almost on par with, just separated by a small gap of a few crucial points.

before either of them could fully grasp the long term consequences of their actions, the damage had been done. 

the media trained smiles, the subtle digs at one another, the isolation and the inevitable toxic competition had driven the once best friends to rivals. nothing more than that, but certainly everything less than whatever they had started off as. 

2016 in every way was truly suffocating. it was vicious, dark , and filled with grappling anxiety. soon, it wasn't even about winning, it was about defeating him . 

snatching it from nico's prying hands, because a race win never felt like truly a win to lewis unless it was against nico.

the same way love truly never felt like love unless it was spent on nico. 

—

2016 comes to an end. 

nico rosberg is world champion.

his retirement comes in eleven days later, leaving the world in shock. 

lewis is baffled. nico didn't tell him.

nico stopped telling him everything ages ago, a small almost insignificant voice inside reminds him too quickly before he can expand on that line of thought. 

so truly he doesn't understand why he's this surprised in the first place. 

a part of him thinks that he'll be relieved.

no more mind games. no more unhealthy competitions, no more nights lost over coming up with futile strategies to outperform the other, no more pr trained damage control. 

finally, his mind settles on one last thought.

no more racing against nico rosberg. 

no more loving nico rosberg, a thought that leaves at the same speed it enters.  

hesitantly, he takes a moment to glance at nico at the luxurious retirement party hosted for the champion, to give him a warm goodbye and to celebrate his committed efforts for everything he's done for the team. 

he absorbs every aspect of him, making peace with the fact this would be the last time he'd see him. in formula one. at least as a driver. 

his pretentious angelic smile is radiant but miserable, yet its good enough to convince the media. the countless pr mediated training finally paid off; almost too dangerously, blending the lines between reality and illusion of the person he used to be. 

his final show before exiting the world of formula one, as a driver.

except it was just not enough to convince lewis because once upon a time, he prided on the fact that he truly knew and understood the nico rosberg.

the shell of the nico he once used to know doesn't cease to exist anymore, truly faded away into an unrecognizable version of someone he used to know. 

it's a godforsaken tragedy. it's almost poetic on how ironic all of this had been, lewis thinks.

racing was the one thing that brought them together. their backgrounds couldn't be even more different even if they tried, yet it was their shared passion for racing that held them together. 

because once upon a time, they were just two little boys in karts, dreaming the same thing, becoming world champions together. 

and now they were two grown men, with world championship (s) under their names. 

they did manage to fulfill one part of their promise, just forgot the part where they had to do it together, not apart. 

it's weird how the one thing that you love also becomes the same thing that tears you apart.

the sport takes away that much as it gives you. lewis always thought that part of the pep talk was a bit overexaggerated. 

he was sure that when he broke the records, set new ones, became world champion, he'd be content. he'd feel seen. he'd fulfill his purpose and everything else in his life would fall into place

once he leaves an indelible mark in the history of motorsports. To silence the haters and those who doubted his capabilities for his achievements would speak for themselves. 

never did he imagine that the pursuit of this would set ablaze to everything else apart from racing that he truly loved. 

in a moment of self reflection, he wonders if there might have been another way to do all of this.

where they could have done it together. from the start to the very end of it. like they had always promised each other.

where it wasn't vile and hostile.

where it was just lewis & nico and not lewis vs nico.

or was it always meant to end the way it did?

he wouldn't know about it, for that wasn't their story. that wasn't the narrative.

the damage was done. far beyond repair. there was no point in contemplating the what ifs of the path they hadn't taken. 

they crossed too many lines, burned too many bridges. they both said things neither of them could take back, but the worst lied in those words that were left unsaid, always lingering around, prancing around every time either of them thought they could possibly fix what they had.it lingered around, unwelcomed, like a haunting repercussion of their cursed irreparable mistakes. 

a part of lewis, knows, and understands he didn't mean all those unkind things he said. 

they were trying to hurt each other. and god it worked every single time. they knew each other too well, they knew every weakness of the other. get under the others' skin, a rather disgusting and pathetic but sadistically effective way to inflict pain. to get in their heads, to throw them off their game. 

all because somewhere along the lines the both of them decided to let racing and winning mean more than whatever they shared. 

they burnt violently, a direct resemblance to the sun, gleaming and shining in their fullest capacity and potential they could, every point gained, every trick used, every argument initiated was to close in the miniscule point gap that existed between the two. 

what they hadn't realized is that in order to shine and glow as bright as the sun, you had to burn as bright as its rays.

and so they did. they blazed so fiercely, at a magnitude, in a way only lewis hamilton and nico rosberg could do. trying to outperform the other, trying to be the best in the game. what they hadn’t realized is that they had ended up destroying each other in the pursuit of the same.

now all that remains are ashes of what they both used to be.

at least for now, lewis convinces himself that he still knows some broken; perhaps far too gone version of nico.

and that was enough for him. 

he could live with that, he convinces himself.

perhaps the very same way that nico seemed to live between the broken remains, grieving over the reminders of those memories they once cherished together. 

the full circle was complete.

from strangers , to friends, to best friends , to teammates , to rivals and finally back to strangers.

it was all over.

[corawithfanfiction]

The Next Step Is Evolution & White Wolf and Polaris

you know our love would be tragic (episode 12)

episode 10 - episode 11 - episode 13

my materialist!

summury: Bucky (Winter Soldier/ White Wolf) finds surprises and familiar faces waiting for him at the Academy. Lorna (Polaris) wants to apologize to Logan (Wolverine), but Logan has other plans for reconciliation

warning: dirty language, body deformation, foreplay , unconsciousness, bad language, fighting, anxiety, uncertainty and reading consciousness.

Ask for permission before quoting or translating!

✗

"Does Ororo know you're here Barnes?"

Emma's voice filled the room as everyone's gaze shifted between the blonde woman and the former sergeant, serial killer and new Avengers member on Captain America's side.

Remy got up from where he had fallen, shaking the shards of glass off himself. Raven was still unhappy that Remy was here, but Emma's words had piqued her curiosity and she put her anger aside and focused her attention on her friend. By this time, her blood - red hair had turned a brighter blonde than the sun and her blue, scaly skin was smooth and fair.

Sam sat up a little straighter at the mention of his friend's name.

Logan listened to his feelings while Lorna calmly and quietly watched where this was going. Everyone in the room was calm, but their heartbeats and breathing were rapid. Everyone was aware of their own power, and in a fight, both sides could get hurt. So Logan, with years of wisdom and fatigue, leaned back and listened intently to all his senses.

Emma tore her gaze away from Charles, who was standing directly in front of her. She turned around and came face to face with Bucky. Her movements were unhurried, her brow furrowed for a split second as she ran her cold gaze over the man's blues for a moment. It was a detail that had escaped the attention of everyone in the room except the two old metal men. Emma's gaze softened and she finally put a peaceful and sincere smile on her face. Taking a step closer to Bucky,

she said, "Don't tell me you forgot about Ororo when you remember everything!" she said with mock reproach and playfulness.

Bucky's body was still uncomfortable. Anyone in the room could see his tensed muscles, and it was hard not to notice them. Emma didn't need to observe the super soldier in front of her to notice them, she already knew every thought going through his head. Still, she was familiar with his life, he had already been abused in the past and she couldn't intrude into his thoughts without his permission. So, keeping a sweet smile on her face, she began to speak in a way that only the two of them could understand.

"Undixelele yonke into. Ebengafuni kukushiya apho kodwa uyayazi ukuthembela kwakhe emantombini. Ndiqinisekile awusithembi kangoko." *

(She told me everything. She didn't want to leave you there, but you know how she trusts girls. I'm sure she doesn't trust us that much.)

The look of incomprehension on everyone's faces was definitely worth seeing. While most were frowning, the super soldier had a smile on his face, unlike the others in the room. "W- wena, uyalwazi ulwimi"

(Y-you speak Xhosa?)

Emma continued laughing, happy that the man in front of her was relaxing and beginning to trust her.

"Ewe, ndiyazi malunga neencoko zakho no- Ororo. Besithetha emva kweseshoni yakho nganye. Ugqirha ongaqondakaliyo awanxibelelelana naye emva kokuba enyamalele ecaleni kwakhe ume phambi kwakho ngoku."

(Yes, I also know about your conversations with Ororo. We were talking after each of your sessions. The mysterious doctor she contacted after she disappeared is standing in front of you now.)

After Emma's last words, the super soldier let out a laugh, "Andikukholelwa Frost." At Bucky's words, Emma and Bucky shared a hug.

(I can't believe it, Frost!)

Remy said, "If you're done with your cryptic conversation, can you tell us why you're hugging?" "Because not everyone in the room is a telepath!" she said reproachfully, pointing at Charles and David.

Logan was trying to decipher the African language he had heard. Sam's brow furrowed in disbelief as he watched his friend's movements.

Lorna wondered why Bucky knew Emma. Emma Frost, Ororo Monroe and James Bucky Barners. What could these three possibly have in common?

Bucky skipped Remy's question and asked Emma, "Uyayazi ukuba u Aneka uyakucaphukela, akunjalo?"

(You know Aneka hates you, right?)

At Bucky's words, Emma let out a loud laugh and grabbed Bucky's right shoulder with her left hand and squeezed, "Oh loo mfazi uhlala eyithiyile i - crystal telepath. "

(Oh that woman always hates crystal telepaths)

Sam looked at Emma with a relieved and grateful smile as Bucky leaned in and said something in Sam's ear. There was no conversation between Emma and Sam, but Captain America thanked her and Emma said it was no big deal.

Charles Xavier was proud to witness such moments on the roof of the Academy he had founded, and he shelved his doubts about his work. Remy, David and Lorna, on the other hand, watched uneasily, never understanding what had happened, and perhaps waiting for someone to explain it to them.

Raven didn't understand what was happening, but she had lived enough to know who Bucky Barnes was, Ororo's connection to Bucky, and why Emma spoke the official language of Wakanda. Yes, maybe she didn't understand what was being said, but she knew more or less what was being said. That's why she stood her ground without compromising her demeanor.

Logan could not decipher the familiar language being spoken, but his sophisticated ears clearly heard the conversation of the two strangers in the room. He smiled in understanding, a smile so tiny that even he couldn't feel it. He empathized with Barnes, understood him and kept what he had heard to himself, pretending he had never heard it.

After all, it wasn't every day that he met someone he could empathize with as a centuries-old lump of metal whose past had been forced into oblivion.

Everyone had scattered to their rooms, the strangers at the Academy had been given rooms too, they would be staying here with the X-Men for a few days.

Lorna sat cross-legged on her bed, thinking about what had happened. What she had to do at the Casino, Remy showing up, Logan taking so long to recover, saving Anna, Logan saving Lorna, and what had happened when they arrived at the Academy.

It was a difficult day for Lorna. She had used her powers like never before, and she had done it in front of people she never wanted to know. Sinister now knew that Lorna was a mutant too, and he wasn't going to hesitate to share this with the members of the Casino. Assuming that the entire Casino knew who Lorna's father was, it wouldn't be too hard for them to guess the powers she had acquired. Lorna was one zero behind in this battle. She felt she had lost everything she had gained.

Her safety, her privacy, and Logan.

As her thoughts began to overwhelm the young woman, Lorna jumped out of bed in a huff. Tearing off her t-shirt and tugging at the collar, she ran to the window in front of her and opened it wide. She tried to regulate her breathing with the cold night air. She didn't know how long she stayed there, but finally she went inside. Her body was white with cold, and tomorrow she would probably have a runny nose and start sneezing. She didn't care. She started to step wherever her mind took her. She opened the door to her room and walked the path she knew by heart. When she came to the familiar door, she waited with shaky breaths for the courage that had disappeared and left her to return. After about five or six minutes, she turned back with weak steps, believing she could not do it. She had just taken her first step when the door she had not dared to knock on opened.

“You are confident enough to come to my door, but you don't have the face to come in!” As soon as she heard Logan's voice, Lorna's tears began to accumulate, ‘Logan…’ she whimpered in a voice that even she could not hear, and she came face to face with the man behind her. There was no compassion or understanding on Logan's face. Yet when he saw the trembling girl about to cry in front of him, he stepped aside and said, “Come in.” As Lorna entered the room with weak steps, the door closed behind her

“What do you want, Lorna?” There was exasperation in Logan's voice.

Lorna tried to find her voice as she studied the man before her. The wounds he had sustained today had already healed. Still, he had taken so long to wake up and it terrified Lorna. At a point when she thought she had found his voice, she said, “I actually came to apologize,” sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. It didn't help that Logan laughed derisively as she finished her sentence.

“An apology, huh?” he said sarcastically. As he took a step toward Lorna. His right hand grabbed Lorna's chin hard and their eyes locked. “Apologize for what, Lorna, huh?” Lorna couldn't hold back her tears any longer, sobbing softly and silently.

“YOU WILL APOLOGIZE!" Logan yelled, his harsh voice making the woman in his hands jump. “Where do you want to start? Are you going to apologize for leaving me in a fucking casino with people who would love to tear me apart for adimantium? Or for not telling me sooner that we were going to a place full of people who knew about my past that I didn't even know about? Are you going to apologize for leaving me to die, Lorna, or for wooing me in the laps of the fucking bad guys right in front of me!”

“Logan, I-I-I…” Lorna cried a little more with every word Logan said, but it did nothing to ease his nerves.

“Fuck off, Lorna” he let go of her hand on his chin with a deep sigh, he could see the imprint of her fingers as she poured it behind her back. James Logan Howlett might not remember much of his past, but the marks Lorna had left on him triggered his memory every time. He loved seeing the traces of his hand on the young woman's white skin, the memories of the night before coming to life on Lorna's body. He might have been proud to bear Lorna's scars, but they were gone from Logan's body before the night was over. He wasn't a sick maniac, he didn't mean to harm the young woman he was with, he would have been proud to carry the paths Lorna had traced with her fingernails, the spots she had bitten and bruised, but his fast-healing body wouldn't allow it.

With a rush of thoughts he turned back to Lorna and grabbed her by the throat, pulling her to his lips. Holding their bodies close enough to become one, they kissed each other until they ran out of breath. When they pulled back, Lorna was apologizing, planting kisses on every inch of Logan's face. Finally, Logan stopped Lorna. He looked into her eyes, red from crying,

“Don't apologize anymore,” he said. Lorna smiled, perhaps for the first time today, and wrapped her arms around Logan's neck. After wrapping her legs around his waist, Logan stepped toward his bed. After placing the woman in his arms on her back on the bed, he quickly got rid of the thin pajama top, which meant tearing pieces of fabric so he wouldn't waste time, flipped her over on the bed and planted his hips in the air.

As Lorna took short, quick breaths in anticipation and excitement of what was about to happen next, Logan smiled down at the girl trembling beneath him with anticipation. After getting rid of his t-shirt, he took his time pulling down his sweatpants and slipping them off his legs.

“I didn't like the way those men looked at you, they looked at you like you were a piece of meat.” he ran his hands over the thighs in front of him. Logan's voice was pleasant as Lorna shivered at the touch “Hmm, do you want me to touch you baby? I could pin you to this bed until you cry for me to stop and take your mind off this day.” “I haven't even touched you yet,” Logan whispered, laughing harder at Lorna's body shaking with anticipation. Finally, he stopped torturing the young woman and turned her over on the bed again. Now Lorna's back was on the bed, her legs spread wide at Logan's movement.

Lorna looked up at the man towering over her. Logan's powerful body overshadowed her. He stood there in all his glory. As their eyes locked, Lorna could form her last coherent thoughts. He was now the protagonist of Lorna's warning, the one who had killed hundreds of people, the one who caused fear in everyone who heard his name.

When Logan's face aligned with Lorna's stomach, she was looking for something to hold on to. In contrast to their fight and the high decibel screams and moans they were about to let out, Logan lowered his voice, his voice tight and thick with lust, the hunger that had been building up between Lorna's sleeps causing her to feel Logan's words against her skin “I'm going to make you moan for every minute I lay there as a dead piece of metal baby, I don't care how many days you won't be able to walk, you're mine tonight and every night after that!”

After a long day, it was going to be a difficult night for the telepaths and sensory-sensitive mutants at the Academy.

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