#and not her fucking guilt over choosing not to visit them AT ALL over the past 5 years!!

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 13

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au TW: Gaslighting Note: Drama, drama, drama, but happy ending to this part. Enjoy ;)

Gaz and Johnny could not believe what they were hearing. 

“Mate…” Gaz sighed exasperatedly and put his head in his hands after Simon had told him and Johnny about what happened between him and ____.

“Yer a fuckin’ eejit!” Johnny spoke what was on his and Gaz’s mind and didn’t hesitate to slap Simon right across the head, something that only his long-standing friendship gave him the privilege of doing without being slapped right back.

Three days had passed since the first day of Simon’s fever and he had recovered from it enough to visit the pub with his two friends for a conference. It evidently wasn’t going well so far. 

“Was I wrong to tell her to go out with Alejandro?” asked Simon who was in between them, sitting at the counter, not angry with Johnny at all for the smack he received. 

“Aff course, ye absolute fuckin’ lemon!” Johnny shook his head, “Ye shouldnae said that!”

“Cut him some slack,” said Gaz to Johnny, grabbing Simon’s shoulder, “He’s literally never interacted with women before.”

Ouch. However true it was, Simon did not want to be reminded of his incompetence.

“Tha’ doesnae mean he should let her go!” Johnny brandished his arms angrily in protest, and the two shushed him when the other pub-goers side-eyed him. Johnny took a hasty gulp of his beer and lowered his voice to an annoyed whisper, “How daft can he be?!” 

Gaz turned to Simon. “Why did you even tell her that?”

He ruffled his hair, embarrassed. “Thought Alejandro would be a better fit for her.”

“How so?” Johnny demanded.

Simon pulled up Alejandro’s Instagram and showed it to them. “He’s a handsome lad, this one. Why would anyone not want him? Look, he’s a model too. And what am I? A bloody blue-collar car mechanic.”

They did agree that Alejandro was handsome, but Johnny grabbed Simon’s shoulder. “Aye, he’s good-looking, but ye cannae choose fer her now, right? What if she likes a bloody blue-collar car mechanic and no’ a model, huh?”

Gaz pursed his lips and sighed, sitting back against the bar stool, thinking about how hurt she must’ve been, even more so after he encouraged her. “You fucked up, Simon,” was all he could manage to put into words. 

Simon silently stared at the sweating glass of water in front of him that was turning lukewarm. Three days of awkwardness had passed already. If he let this tarry any longer, his relationship with her could turn lukewarm too.

“What do I do?” he muttered helplessly, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want her involved with me,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m an ex-criminal. Who in the bloody hell wants to be with me?”

“She does, clearly,” Gaz interjected confidently. 

Simon was reminded of how sweet she was to him even after he bared his soul to her and revealed his blood-stained past; of how she came immediately to care for him when he was sick. And he hurt her, thinking that he was doing her a service. His shoulders slumped and his head bowed over his glass of water, feeling the guilt weigh on him.

Johnny and Gaz silently watched Simon rub a hand over his face, groaning under his breath. Gaz’s eyes flickered to Johnny, and he detected a trace of pity in his grimace. 

“Ye wanna ken whit tae dae?” Johnny began, now shifting in his seat. His two friends looked up at him. “Since ye told her tae go out with Alejandro tae her face, ye should go right back tae her and ask her no’ tae go out with him but with ye.” He paused for a moment, “an’ while yer at it, maybe ask her tae be yer actual girlfriend so this won’t happen again.”

“But what if she doesn’t accept? What if she already accepted Alejandro?” Simon asked.

“I don’t think she will,” Gaz spoke before Johnny did, trying to sound confident. In reality, he didn’t know her well enough to predict what she would do, whether or not she would be petty and try to get back at Simon for hurting her by going out with Alejandro. He hoped that would not happen and that she wasn’t that sort of person. 

Johnny was surprisingly silent, letting the calmer Gaz speak some sense to their thick-skulled best friend. When the two were silent and Simon was left pondering to himself, he said, “Ye should go and dae it now. Don’ waste time.”

Simon nearly opened his mouth to say that he didn’t feel ready to just get up and go, but that would only elicit a negative response from his friends. And he especially didn’t want Johnny to keep calling him a pussy.

He let out a laboured sigh as he rose. “I’ll be back,” he said reluctantly, pulling out his skull mask from his pocket and putting it on.

Johnny took a slower sip of his pint. “Only come back here if it all goes tae shit,” he said.

Gaz offered Simon a reassuring smile and a firm clap to the back. “You got this mate, go on now.”

And Simon did.

___: Hey, about the date ___: I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m interested ✔️ Read 11:32 AM

She sighed as she returned her phone to her back pocket and shifted her heavy grocery bag to her other hand, trudging slowly and thoughtfully down the pavements.

She just couldn’t accept a date with Alejandro, especially not when she adored Simon. But it was too late for her now; Simon didn’t want to go to the family reunion, which automatically meant that she wouldn’t have to go either.

She hadn’t yet told all this to Lindsey, knowing she would not hesitate to fight Simon for saying such a thing. She wanted to try and talk to Simon again, to tell him that she wasn’t going out with Alejandro, and that she wanted to go to the reunion with him so that he could keep his promise with his mother.

Just as she reached her hand to her back pocket, someone’s repeated honking in her direction made her turn back. She saw a helmeted man on a motorcycle pull up next to her and didn’t recognize him until he took off his helmet.

“Simon!” she exclaimed, feeling a painful flutter in her chest at the sight of his face, “How come you’re here?”

“I was… uh… I was just going to the book cafe,” he muttered an excuse, “and I happened to see you. Where are you coming from?”

She held up her bag of groceries. “From the grocery store.”

He paused for a moment, feeling the awkward tension in the air. “Can I drop you home?” he offered quietly, seeing how heavy the grocery bag looked.

“Um, sure,” she nodded, realising how long it had been since she last rode on his motorcycle.

He put his helmet back on, and she got on the pillion right behind him. Pulling back out onto the road, he began to cruise and slip past the traffic like a lizard. She held onto him, even though he went slow. She missed the familiar scent of the rainforest cologne and found herself pressing herself a little further against him, just to inhale another whiff that took her back to when they met first. 

Her moving closer and her arms tightening around his waist stirred a strong feeling of protectiveness and desire in him. He just wanted to set things right with her, and he was determined.

His breath got a little heavy with anticipation when he pulled up at the entrance of the apartment complex she stayed in. She got off, and so did he, saying that he wanted to walk her to her door just to make sure she was protected and safe throughout. The lady was in agony; his kindness to her was making her wound worse. “Don’t raise my hopes now, Simon…” she thought to herself.

When the doors of the lift opened, to their surprise, Alejandro stepped out. He saw Simon and ____ standing together, and fighting back a sneer, smiled at them. The corners of Simon’s lips stayed where they were, and his gaze hardened on Alejandro. 

“Alejandro, why didn’t you reply to my text? Is everything okay?” she asked immediately.

Her eagerness made Simon grimace for a split second. Alejandro cast a glance at Simon and then smiled at ____. “I’m really sorry nena, I was pretty busy today,” he said, “Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about it. Can I borrow you for a moment if you’re not busy?”

“You’re not taking my girlfriend anywhere.” interjected Simon, “If you have anything to say to her, I’d like to hear it too.”

Alejandro scoffed. “Who are you to decide for her? You’re not even her real boyfriend, are you?”

Simon clenched his jaw and glared at Alejandro. She told him? Was that intentional too? Did she tell him that her relationship with Simon was fake so that it would give Alejandro an opportunity to strike? His anger boiled over at this point, both at her and him.

____ gulped harshly, mentally berating herself for forgetting to tell Simon that Alejandro figured out their little game of pretend. A glance at Simon told her that he was definitely not pleased to hear it. 

Simon grunted, not wanting to distress her by making a fuss. “Fine,” he relented and stepped back.

Alejandro smirked and led her aside to a far corner of the lobby where they could talk. Simon kept himself nearby, watching.

As soon as Alejandro ensured that he was a safe distance from Simon’s keen ears, he turned to ____, only to find her nervously and worriedly glancing at Simon. He put an index finger against her jaw and turned her face to look at him.

“Tell me nena, why don’t you want to go out with me?” he asked, letting his finger linger against her jaw before pulling it away. 

She pursed her lips. “Because I’m not interested. I like Simon,” she answered firmly.

“Are you sure about him?” he asked, resisting the urge to glance at Simon. “Does he like you back?”

Was she sure about him? Did Simon like her back? The thought of his grimy past came to mind, and the possible dangers of associating with him, and the fact that Simon himself encouraged her to go out with Alejandro. She stood there, her fist clenched tight around her grocery bag, struggling to decide. 

She opened her mouth, saying shakily, “I don’t know if he likes me back, but I like him, and I have no feelings for you. I’m sorry.”

Alejandro let out a soft sigh, but he wasn’t discouraged. “Again, are you sure? Because I think he looks like he could hurt you. He might be nice right now but who knows what he could be later on. That scar on his face is really telling. He could just be a criminal, you know.”

She glared at him like he had insulted her. “Don’t talk like you know him,” she said sharply.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologised, “But you can’t deny he has the air of one, can you? He looks dangerous, and I’m just looking out for you.”

She would’ve been swayed by him if it weren’t for her deep seated feelings for Simon. “He does, but I still like him anyway. Besides, he’s always been nice to me by looking out for my safety,” she answered, now starting to get annoyed by his persuasion. 

He scoffed. “Looking out for your safety,” he echoed, “What if it’s a case of him being so overprotective of you that he doesn’t let you choose which man is good for you?”

She rolled her eyes. She knew that was far from who Simon was. “Alejandro,” she warned, her voice sharper than before, “I know him better than you, so stop talking like you know him. I don’t like you talking badly of him.”

“Is a man not allowed to express his feelings now?” He crossed his arms.

Her annoyance was only growing more and more. “You know that’s not what I meant,” the sharpness in her voice had an added coldness to it.

Alejandro inwardly cursed at how obstinate she was. “Look nena, this is your last chance. I can probably care for you much better than he can. Why do you want to miss out and like him?” The hint of disdain couldn’t help but slip out of his friendly tone.

“I don’t think it’s right or fair to go out with you when I have feelings for someone else,” she said, taking a deep breath to keep herself from snapping. “I like Simon. End of story.”

Alejandro stood up straight and sighed. “Your loss, sweetheart.” Stepping back, he wished her a good night and strode right out of the lobby and out into the street. 

When he was out of sight, she shook her head wearily. One thing after another. At least she shook him off now, but she couldn’t shake off her anger at how he looked down on Simon. Sighing, she raised her eyes back to the man himself, who was still standing by the lift, arms crossed and foot perched up the wall he was leaning against, glaring at the floor. She went back to him.

“You have a nice chat, darling?” he asked through his teeth. 

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh as she pressed the lift button.

Their thoughts wandered in the deafening silence, and were interrupted by the “ding!” of the lift door opening. When they reached her floor, he escorted her to her door and both of them stood there, hesitating.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” she asked, “You’ve never come over before, have you?”

He nodded in agreement, breathing heavily and mentally preparing himself. He tensely watched her unlock the door and enter, beckoning him inside. He stepped in, taking off his trainers as he watched her shadow move about the foyer. The click of a light switch resounded in the thick silence, and a white light glowed over the two of them as if they were in an interrogation room.

“Do you like Alejandro?” he blurted out in desperation, unable to hold back anymore. He knew he asked her that on the camping evening around the fire, but he wasn’t sure anymore.

“No!” she exclaimed, saying with some force, “I don’t like him.”

He stared at her, his breath heavy again. His lower lip trembled. “Then why did you reveal to him that our relationship was fake?”

“I didn’t. He figured it out,” she replied, her pitch rising slightly in anxiety.

He paused, inhaling once more. “Did you want to go out with him?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t, I just…”

“Then why did you say ‘I’ll let you know’ when he asked you out? Why was it not a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” he demanded earnestly, taking a step forward.

Her brows furrowed and she took a step back. He saw the flicker of fear and unease in her eyes and stepped back immediately, giving her space. “Did you not want to go to the reunion with me?” he added.

“I thought you didn’t want to go.”

“I don’t!” he ran a hand through his hair, “I promised my mum I’d bring over my “girlfriend” and I thought… it’d be more bearable to be there if you’re around.” He rounded back to his question, “Did you or did you not want to go with me?”

“I did want to go,”

“Then why didn’t you give Alejandro a proper ‘no’ to him asking you out?”

She hesitated. “Why do you care about that, Simon?”

“Because I like you!”

She stared at him, stunned by his outburst. He exhaled and pursed his lips, feeling his cheeks flush both with embarrassment and exertion.

“I like you,” he repeated softly, his shoulders dropping and his hands hanging by his sides as if in surrender, “I want you. I want you to go out with me, not that bastard.” He added angrily, “He’s an odd bloke, that one! I’ve always felt that way.”

Odd was right. “I guess so. He was trying to persuade me to go out with him,” she replied, “trying to get me to choose him over you…” her voice trailed off, “but I didn’t choose him.”

Simon felt his knees turn into jelly. “Who do you choose then?” he asked breathily, swallowing harshly, feeling his mouth go dry, his heart speed up, and his palms sweaty.

“You, Simon. I like you too.”

He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, staring at her, unable to believe his ears. He was almost waiting for her to say “Just kidding!” and call it a day. But she didn’t open her mouth. Her nervous fiddling with her fingers and her averted gaze as she waited for his answer was all he needed to know.

A grin broke his tense face. “Fucking hell,” he chuckled, leaning his back against the front door, legs weak but utterly relieved. He covered his face in his hands, continuing to chuckle. “Fuck me,” came a soft, muffled, but happy exclamation, “I thought you didn’t like me at all.”

She stepped closer to him, a relieved smile gracing her tired face. “I liked you for a long time,” she admitted, “Ever since you saved me that night.”

His eyes softened. “Me too,” he exhaled, feeling the relief wash over him a hundred times over at those words. 

But it evaporated slightly when a look of worry flashed across her face, making his brows furrow slightly in confusion. “There’s just one thing I’m worried about,” she began.

“What is it, darling?”

“I won’t be in any danger if I’m with you, right? I mean, with the gang you were with. They won’t find us for whatever reason and hurt us or anything, right?” 

He grimaced. It was a genuine concern. “I’ll be honest. I don’t know if they’re hunting me down or not, and maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. When I was arrested, I willingly shared gang secrets to the police. I don’t know what they did with that information, but it’s likely they used it to catch a few of the other gang members. And I don’t know if there are any remaining.” 

He paused, feeling an ache in his heart at the sight of the fear in her eyes. He cursed himself for not rethinking his decisions. He inhaled and tried to assure her, “But don’t worry. They usually keep themselves within territories and don’t venture outside of it carelessly. We’re not far from London, but we’re far enough to not be in their territory. They’ve not come once for me all these years, so there’s nothing to fret about.”

Partial relief was evident on her face, even though the fear lingered. He gently took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Even if they come for either of us, I’ll protect you. I won’t let them lay a finger on you. I’ll break their bones if they even try,” he said firmly. “No one will touch you and get away with it, so you have nothing to worry about, alright?” 

She chuckled, nodding. “Please, don’t break anyone’s bones. I don’t want you going to prison again.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll let you decide what you want me to do with anyone who hurts you.”

The two exchanged chuckles and grins, and Simon, feeling an overwhelming sense of adoration and love for her, raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. She smiled widely at the chivalrous act, blushing and feeling jittery. 

“That being said…” he lowered her hand, pleased to see her reaction, “would you come with me to the reunion as my real girlfriend?”

She giggled. “Real smooth of you, Simon.”

“What can I say,” he bragged, “I know a woman’s heart very well.” As if Gaz and Johnny didn’t agree that he was inexperienced with women. 

She burst into a fit of giggles at that joke, and he smirked triumphantly. “Were you able to make her laugh this hard, Alejandro? Don’t think so,” he thought to himself, remembering how angry she looked talking to the man. 

He watched her laugh, feeling his affection for her grow stronger and deeper. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed against her fingers as he asked softly, “What will it be, my love?”

“I’ll go with you,” she declared with a lovely smile, “as your real girlfriend.”

End of Part 13.

Part 14

Oof finally 13 parts later, they are dating LMAO. Reunion chapter is next.

--

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[sickofthistoxicshit]

I know ya'll are like this is proof of buddie canon,

And as someone who's been here from the beginning, I will believe it when I see it, not before.

There are four ways Eddie little pointless adventure can go,

1. He moves to El Paso, Christopher does not want to see him, his parents put as many obstacles as possible, Buck joins him in a true copying of Station 19 where at the end of the season Vic leaves and Travis meets her at the airport telling her his home is wherever she is and they leave together.

Prompting the spin off of Buck and Eddie together in El Paso. With an angsty backstory in the background and stuff.

2. Eddie and Buck go canon while they're looking for a house for Eddie, Buck asks Eddie not to move, kisses him they have some angsty back and forward in which Eddie goes to see the house up close, misses Buck and decides he doesn't want this, he convinces Christopher to go home with him and comes back to a delighted Buck.

3. Both of them go to see the house, Eddie loves it but it doesn't feel the right kind of happy, they both confess their feelings in El Paso and come back to LA hopefully after Eddie grows a backbone with his emotional support Buck, and tells his parents to go fuck themselves and his son that he can be mad at him all he wants at home in LA, but they can't work this out while they're in two different states so far apart from each other.

Christopher will probably come around either when he hears that, Thank God, no more poor substitutes for mothers will come through their door because he finally gets his Buck and Eddie together.

Or he's still sullen and teenager-y until Eddie’s next nde and then he'll come around, after crying to Buck that he doesn't want his dad to die thinking he hates him.

It will probably be the second option.

4. Eddie moves, Buck misses him like a missing limb, he goes to visit after one FaceTime too many and they end up together, either doing this long distance, or Buck moves to el paso, or they are both along with Christopher comes back to LA.

Some people are mad that I'm holding Christopher accountable for his behavior, and I will probably at some point make a long post about it, but the thing is, that unlike Buck's small family, Christopher had so many people and family to choose from to separate himself from his dad, but he chose the one pair of people that he knows will keep Eddie away at all cost, will let him get away with whatever just so that he stays with them.

And will give Eddie a pause before he will finally decide to get over his guilt over his one mistake of a stalker showing up against his will in his house, and stirring up painful shit for him and his son, and will come get him much later than he would have otherwise.

Because Eddie is sure he doesn't deserve to be redeemed, he actually thought up until his conversation with Father Brian that he didn't even deserve to drink juice, ok?

That's how bad the guilt is. Does Eddie have a lot of self work to do after TM erased all his progress cause he's a vindictive little bitch? Yes.

Is Christopher, which went through so much with his father and even at one point asked Eddie if he is the one making him sad, is the most ooc he's ever been written so far? Yes.

Can he be held accountable for his actions? At the moment of the ghost Shannon reveal, not entirely.

But six months later? Absolutely.

At this point, he's enjoying himself too much to go back to Eddie and his school and his duties, and he doesn't even discuss with Eddie his plans for the future.

Just hints that say, 'No, I barely want to talk to you and send me the autograph to my room on Texas as a reward for giving you half a breadcrumb every time you call'.

I am mad at Christopher for choosing the one pair of people he knew would do as much damage as possible and would take him away and keep him in a heartbeat.

Because, make no mistakes children are not stupid, they learn patterns of behavior, they see and hear everything, Christopher knows how hard it is for Eddie to deal with his parents and he is taking full advantage of it.

I am mad at Eddie for not putting his foot down and that he didn't send his parents packing the moment they showed up at his doorstep.

And I am mad at the Diaz parents for being the narcissistic assholes who want a second chance at raising their son's kid by taking him away from his father and rubbing it in on top of it.

This whole storyline is just one big cluster fuck, and I get that buddie canon is a potentially exciting future, but with Eddie’s storyline in shambles, which as an Eddie girl is the only thing I care about right now, I find it hard to be excited.

Also we've been here before, this is the same game plan as S5 5x10 and S5b which fox and the showrunner chickened out of last time.

So, yes, buddie may happen, but I ain't getting excited before they actually do. This show has given me trust issues, plain and simple.

[whiskawaybelf]

God, I love your fics. What are some of your headcannons for Eomer and Lothiriel?

Ooooo, I love this question.

Some of my headcannons have changed from an old post I did for Eothiriel week, some are still pretty accurate. In no particular order:

Lothiriel wasn't sure she would ever get married and is pretty much only tempted because Eomer gives her the ability to keep doing what she likes doing (being a fucking nerd), have an excellent husband, and accept that marriage can be a love thing as much as a contract. The idea of being bought and sold doesn't appeal to her at all but she knows exactly what marriages are for, probably would have picked whoever her father said would be good enough.

This is really about Imrahil, but he basically chooses Eomer from the moment he sees how he stays by Eowyn and how much he loves her. He knows what a good man looks like and good men are hard to find.

Eomer has this loud barking laugh that rings across the training yard and it starts to come back after the war. I headcannoned ages ago that Lothiriel is one of the reasons he starts laughing and smiling again, he's the reason she starts feeling safe in the world. Like if he's still here then the world must be healing, because for a while all the good people slowly died.

The two bond a lot over the death of their cousins. Eomer saw Theodred as his brother and feels an immense amount of guilt for the life he has that he things should have been his cousin's. Lothiriel felt for a long time that Boromir held back the tide of Mordor's incursions and she broke down when she heard he died. The deep injustice of two pivotal figures dying so close to the end of the war burns the two of them and they cling to their families a lot. They value family above everything.

Lothiriel takes to Rohan really quickly, she's always found jewellry very annoying, but she stops wearing most of it. She dresses simply, ditches bodices, ditches intricate pinned hair and sort of rocks a braid and her ring. She has her sleeves permanently rolled up.

Eomer sometimes forgets that Aragorn is a king and gets annoyed when their conversations are interrupted. They rarely go more than two or three months without some kind of visit and have honorary positions on the other's ruling council.

Lothiriel gets incredibly homesick for Dol Amroth and it worried Eomer a lot when they first married. They try to get her there every few months as well. Lothiriel loves Rohan but she sort of just fits Dol Amroth, she gets tired of blond people sometimes.

The Rohir are incredibly blunt. There's been a few big arguments about where we're being 'blunt' or just fucking rude.

Lothiriel will cut a bitch. She really will though she definitely shouldn't. Not all my versions of her do. But they all want to.

God, I have so many more but maybe this is enough. Thank you so much for the ask! I love them so much

[coffeebooksrain18]

matchup trade with @daemontargaryennn

I match you with...Daemon Targaryen!

HEADCANONS

The night you two confess your feelings is one of drunken stupor and slurred words. In the morning you wake up on the floor and look over and see Daemon asleep at the table, a wine glass barely hanging from his fingers. Once you both wake up you stare at each other trying to figure out if the other remembers until you both blurt out “I LOVE YOU!” you two stare at each other for a second before laughing as you both had never felt so nervous before in your lives as your both confident and charming individuals, but it appears when it comes to love you both are tongue tied idiots,

You and Daemon only really argue when it comes to who is carrying the bags/things, for you’re both the people, everyone turns to to hold or carry things so it’s quite tough to give that up when you're so accustomed to it. I will admit that Darmon usually wins these arguments, not with word but by just running off with the bags having you chase after him yelling at him in Dothraki (a language you learned when you were twelve out of pure curiosity).

When you get the zooms (as Daemon loves to call them) he suggests a fly, or more a dragon race. He knows you want to feel the adrenaline and let all this energy out, so you two fly for as long as you need (often times more) till you feel content again.

Speaking of dragons, you love to tease Daemon that his dragon is seen as weird or strange looking (even though you love Caraxes and his strange little legs and long neck) while yours is said to be the most beautiful in the known and possibly unknown world. He always fires back with “yours may be pretty, but mines a formidable beast known for his prowess in war.” which only makes you chuckle as you know he truly doesn’t care that yours is seen as “prettier” for Caraxes is all he’s ever dreamed of in a dragon.

HOUSE

You're from house Martell the eldest of 2, it’s actually because of your younger sibling that you met Daemon, for your families were looking for a match that would put aside your families quarrels. But instead of your sibling catching his eyes it was you (and let’s just say Artificial insemination was a thing as well as Gay marriage was aloud). because of this your families decided it would be best if you two were the match instead. Your sibling didn’t mind as they had someone who had stolen their heart back at Dorne.

DRAGON

I give you Sunfyre. I know, I know “but isn’t he Aegons”  I cannot put into words how perfect he is for you so fuck Aegon he can find another. He's gorgeous, young, playful, loyal, and kind. JUST LIKE YOU! The day you claimed him was quite interesting actually, for you were visiting the Dragonpits at the request of the King (most likely to scare you a bit) but as you were down there you felt a tug on your chest right where you were taught your soul was. As you walked closer you saw a great golden beast staring at you almost as if saying “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.” and when you touched his snout he started to jump around his little cave excited he found his rider.

SHIP SONG

The devil and I by saop&skin

I like the way you kiss me by Artemas

SHIP TROPES

Hurt them and you die (Daemon) x take a chill pill (You)

Idiot always getting hurt (Daemon) x personal nurse (You)

Too much energy (You) x No energy (Daemon)

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS

Viserys Targaryen

Viserys has no idea your disdain for him, the way he forces his dear wife through pregnancy, after pregnancy only for her to die and marry a girl of only fourteen disgusts you. But you keep an overly large smile and laugh at all his awful jokes, for you know Daemon could not make it if he had to choose between you and his brother. You know he’d pick you, but you also know he loves his brother and you do not wish for him to feel that guilt of leaving his blood behind. But that does not mean you don’t make off handed comments to Viserys about how awful of a king, brother or father he is.

Alicent Hightower

You had always felt protective of Alicent for reasons you never understood. So much so that by the time Daeron was born you had figured out how to make moontea for her so she’d never have to worry of another pregnancy again.  

Helaena Targaryen

You and Helaena support each other through your guys' episodes, her with her dragon dreams and you with schizophrenia. When yours happens Daemon doesn’t know how to help much so he turned to the little girl that seemed to be going through the same thing as you. Now you and Helaena know each other so well you can tell when the other is about to have a episode before it happens.   

Rhaenyra Targaryen

You and Rhaenyra have this love-hate relationship, love for your both extroverts that love to be around people, and hate for you both are quite talkative and seem to talk over each other often. Many find it funny as it’s such a small reason but it’s reason enough to a child and if she wants to be rude you’ll throw it right back.

Laenor Velaryon 

You helped Laenor come out. You were the first person he told (other than Joffery), and he wanted help figuring out how and when to tell his family and the realm. So you helped him come up with a speech for his parents and a feast for him to declare who he is to the realm.  It didn’t  surprise you that many didn’t like that he was gay as gay marriage had only recently been legalized, but you were proud none the less for that braveboy showing his truth.

[varantthedruid]

So,

Yesterday evening I went back to my very first Tav. A high elf Paladin of Vengeance Oathbreaker. And I gave Shadowheart to Viconia (on accident). Anyway, my thoughts on why someone would choose that and a headcanon I made up in bed afterwards under the cut.

We were at the House of Grief and she romanced a Selunite!Shadowheart (I kind of hate that we always talk about Selunite Shadowheart because she states at several points in the game that she isn't ready to just jump on the new goddess bandwagon and she is understandably vary of it but I get where it's coming from and in a kill parents playthrough she does try to figure out her roots and all that anyways).

I accidentally gave her to Viconia. And it fucking broke my heart but I wanted to see how it plays out and when I came back and she stood there and couldn't remember me or anything about the journey she just had, it was horrible. I F8 so hard.

And then some of the companion (or lack thereof) reactions.

I truly think this is one of the most evil endings you can choose for Shadowheart besides maybe freeing the parents and then killing them in front of her.

My imagination went kinda wild here and just...imagine you take your lover, with whom you shared so much of the little you know and have of yourself, with you to finally resolve years of trauma and face the cult that lied to you, wiped your memory and hurt you in many many ways only for them to decide: You can have her. It's the ultimate betrayal.

And Shadowheart gets dragged away, towards the Mirror, PASSING her parents knowing they are her parents and are getting tortured in some capacity and then gets forced to give up her memories and then potentially (I mean I am pretty sure Viconia is not just wiping her memory, I do think she gets severely punished for everything) being abused for something she doesn't remember.

I can't for the life of me figure out why ANYONE would do that since you'd probably lose your healer for just a call upon some Sharrans in the fight against the Elder brain. BUT:

I just had to headcanon that Shadowheart was part of a Sharran raid on my Paladins monastery and my Paladin broke her oath freeing SH from the pod and she basically took some time to remember what SH did. SH of course does not remember but we all know SH was never fully into Shar and had to be disciplined a lot for not being obedient so she probably did not enjoy what she did.

But the Paladin lost family there. And when she realised this was a moment of vengeance for her she swore to restore her oath. And while she did fall in love with SH and understood the immense abuse that happened, she lost everything herself. But she is also pragmatic and needs every help she can get in the fight against the Elder Brain. So she took her vengeance in the worst way possible.

But when she saw SH after in the cloister, she fully realized what she did and decided to live with that pain.

My HC went so far that later on Lae'Zel would start seeking out SH (who is basically nothing more than an errant girl for the cloister at this point) when she comes to visit from the Astral Plane. Because at that start they had a little enemies with benefits going on and Bae'Zel hated that they gave SH away and she never got over that guilt for not stopping what was happening.

Anyway, I have no idea about D'n'D or how Paladins and their Oaths work but yeah....

I would love to put this into an elaborate fan fic but I suck at this.

[howtosingit]

The silver lining to all the fandom bullshit, for me, is that I came out of 4x03 loving both TK and Carlos a whole helluva lot more than I ever have... and also seeing the ways, across 4x01 to 4x03, that they love so fiercely - both each other and others - with their whole fucking hearts... and knowing that loving that hard, that intensely, means that it’s never perfect because it’s so easy for emotions to make things messy and complicated when it consumes you like that... but I’ve always said that I could go through any angst with these two as long as the love is still there... and oh boy is it still there. 

I just really fucking love them both, warts and all.

[More under the cut because I have too many thoughts:]

I've analyzed both of their behaviors and I fully get them and appreciate them. I think what it boils down to is that they just have different priorities in 4x03 that aren't fully working in tandem at the moment and it's causing some tension... but it's actually really good tension because what couple has the same exact priorities every damn moment of their lives?? What are they, clones??

And if I'm thinking of only TK's emotions then I'm upset by Carlos's distance for sure... but I also think TK is a lot more than just upset. He's also feeling guilty (and he was before Carlos even knew about the visit, so that guilt was all his, Carlos did not put that on him initially) and concerned for Carlos because he's seeing Carlos behave erratically and that's new for him. Like, TK sees this change in Carlos and he is scared of it because he knows how far Carlos is willing to go for the people he loves, he’s seen Carlos do that for him before. He knows. So, I am reading TK's reactions as a lot more nuanced than just sad/upset - the man is feeling a lot... GIVE HIM A HUG PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

And as far as Carlos... our tragic, compartmentalizing Carlos... when Iris goes missing he pushes so much down just to focus on her - on finding her, on protecting her, on supporting her. He and TK have one argument and he does his best to not lash out... he buries it and shifts his focus. Full-on focus on finding Iris, finding answers. He gets right to work, he’s in detective/cop mode, just like Ronen said. And we know he has his own guilt driving him towards that, especially since he thinks that maybe coming back into her life like this, with the divorce and with TK, has fucked up her stability. He remains super focused on the s*x doll call because when he comes into the call it is literally in response to the missing person alert - unlike the 126, this call is tied to Iris from minute one for him... and then when he has Iris back he's still just focused on her because she is not doing well. But he's not ignoring TK completely this entire episode as I've seen so many people claim... he literally calls TK to give an update about Iris... he's concerned about Iris and he chooses to talk to TK about it... about whether or not he can believe her like he wants to when all the evidence says he shouldn't. It's the trusting his gut thing all over again... but this time it's trusting his gut to trust Iris... but he still calls TK to talk through that. And it’s not so that he can further blame TK for it either - that blame and guilt is still very much coming from TK himself, and if Carlos is doing anything wrong here it’s that he’s not reassuring TK that he’s blameless... and, like, I get that? Because Carlos also isn’t feeling blameless so maybe he’s thinking it’s both of their faults, that they did this to her. (Not correct, not rational, but understandable, at least to me.)

And then the final call that he makes... I love that the scene starts with his attention on the house... he clearly wants to go right in and get to work... but he pauses and calls TK... and sure he lies to him but that's because he's doing something he knows he shouldn't and he doesn't want to be convinced not to... which is understandable, too, I think. He would’ve lied to anyone in that moment. But he also doesn't want TK to worry when he doesn't come home so he calls and at least gives him a little bit of relief... and yes it's a lie but like... we knew Carlos was gonna be irrational this episode... he doesn't ALWAYS do the right thing. So it's a lie but it at least it gives him time to do what he wants to do AND it - in his mind, though he is wrong - will help settle TK worries.

I don't know... I'm just not mad about all of this. I actually think 4x03 was an incredibly strong episode (the Carlos plot only though). I mean those scenes with Iris... y'all I'm still losing my mind over them. Their friendship is so beautiful and you can clearly see how they were each other’s whole world at one point in time. I love seeing a Carlos that breaks the rules and does the wrong thing because my god I don't know a single person who doesn't fuck up every once in awhile... but he does it out of LOVE, he does it out of his NEED to help, to protect, to be there for the people he loves. Like, how the fuck am I supposed to hate him for that? (Spoiler alert: I’m not gonna and you can’t make me.)

I think if you’re THAT mad at Carlos, it’s because you’re not even trying to understand him in all of this... you’re seeing the POV that the show is giving us (which for the Tarlos of all of this is clearly TK, that’s why we got the talk with Tommy) and you’re not even trying to analyze the rest of the story. And, like, I’m not here to tell you you have to, but I think you’d find this a lot more enjoyable if you at least tried to see where all the characters are coming from. And you might still be frustrated with Carlos - he’s frustrating, hallelujah! - but you’d also realize he’s not the fucking devil. He’s just an imperfect man with a too-big heart stuck between a rock (tunnel) and a hard place (a shovel). And I’m so excited to see the LOVE that he and TK have for each other SAVE him (and them). IT’S. STILL. ALL. ABOUT. THEIR. LOVE.

Anyway... bring on 4x04, I’m so fucking READY.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 16 -- Reilly

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 16 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Semi-Public Sex with Reilly x M!Lone

I always felt like Reilly and Lone could develop a pretty interesting relationship, especially if Lone has the medicine capabilities to be the one to heal her in Underworld, so... This is just me exploring those musings 😊

I hope y'all like it!

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Semi-Public Sex, goodbye sex, trust issues, medical recovery, guilt, new relationship, aftercare-ish, therapy.

Words: 2.4k

--

The fluorescent lights still blared down upon his glistening form, as Lone’s chest rose and fell in his exertion; but Reilly stayed low, hips pressed flush with his and her head bowing to take him in, to commit the details of his body to memory. His bright eyes and the hair threatening to cover them, his chest, broad, but soft where her hands splayed over him, that blemish upon his cheek he’d been fretting over all week long. 

She would miss this.

One day soon, Reilly would have to part with him. For the good of her men, of the rangers, of all the people they were responsible for helping… But she couldn’t think of goodbyes now, not when he was being so… distracting. 

“Damn, Riles, I can feel you clenching me.” He choked out, his voice raw, tired from heavy breathing and holding back any semblance of sound as best he could. 

The residents of Underworld had plenty more to worry about than the young, promiscuous new couple in the infirmary, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have ears. 

Already the pair had had more than their fair share of close calls, especially with Doc Barrows almost always in the office. 

They were being stupid, Reilly knew. She should’ve never allowed this. To get mixed up with somebody she met only a few weeks ago, and only because he was watching her sleep before she got out of the coma. Yeah... there’s better ways to choose a partner, but hell, if she couldn’t see that regret, even with a super-powered scope right about now. 

Lone thrusted up into her from below, his searing girth filling her to bursting with each enthusiastic buck of his hips. She ground down against him, meeting his rhythm blow for blow. Like a well-executed firefight, she moved when he did, followed the signals he gave to her, never allowed her attention to waver. She poured it into him until she was sure he was sated, and even more miraculous, Lone did the same. 

Her lover’s conquests had rarely ended so well in the past. 

And Reilly was still waiting for the damn thing to blow up in her face. 

Only paying me the time of day to fuck me and then scoot, taking advantage of my injured state, gathering information for an interested party whose views didn’t align with those of the Rangers. 

Could be any of those, and yet… 

Even with all her doubts, her mistrusting nature, Lone had managed to claw his way into her thoughts, her feelings. 

And he keeps this shit up, he might just stay there.

Reilly’s back arched, her head tilting back, a deep sigh escaping her lips to dance about the cool, infirmary air as Lone’s hand slid down from where he grasped her hips, down to set his thumb over her clit and rub. 

“Easy, don’t want Barrows to come running again, sweetheart.” He said cheekily, and rather than shooting him the annoyed look she had ready in her arsenal, Reilly swooped her body down to capture his lips in a kiss. She ceased her bouncing over him, opting to thrust forward, grinding his hand beneath their bodies and stimulating herself all at the same time. 

Lone groaned into her, his free hand going to wrap around the back of her neck and anchor her closer to his feverish kneading. His lips captured hers in a series of all-encompassing kisses, each growing more desperate than the last as she felt his cock swell and pulse within her clenching walls. 

“Fuck, Lone…” Reilly whispered, appeasing his request for quiet as best she could with his cockhead beginning to rub so deliciously against that sweet spot deep inside her. 

He hummed in satisfaction, honing in on that point as his momentum increased, as both hands returned to her hips to keep her steady as he ground up into her. 

“‘M close.” Lone grunted, his brows furrowed and nose curled in a snarl as he tried to keep his release at bay, while all the same, pile-driving towards it without abandon. 

“Me too.” 

“Shit, well… ladies first.” Lone breathed, and Reilly would’ve laughed, if she hadn’t been busy gasping at the way he continuously plunged into her. The friction felt like it was enough to set her ablaze, her aching body was at the edge, ready to tap out from the overwhelming excitement of their union, but with one last, ardent press of himself to that sensitive place deep inside, and Reilly tipped over the edge. 

Her sore body floundered and trembled above him, her walls gripping wildly around his aching erection until he felt fit to burst inside her. With a sudden rough haste, Lone’s hands wrenched Reilly upwards and off his throbbing cock just in time for it to spray his seed across his own stomach. The sudden friction against her over-sensitive walls as he pulled away sent Reilly into another fit of blissfully aching convulsions. Lone’s own body shook like a laboring machine beneath her, spilling out the last of his cum messily onto his torso. 

Only as he came down from his high, did Lone notice the symphony of moans and breaths escaping his tense throat, and an exclamation mark formed quickly in his mind.

“Shh, hey, Mr. ‘Keep-Quiet,’” Reilly said from above him, her own orgasm faded enough from her body that she could feel the embarrassment all over again at the thought of Barrows finding them– hearing them– again. “Do you want every damn ghoul in the museum to hear you?”

“Alright, fine... You want me to be honest?” Lone’s eyes captured hers as he leaned back against the mattress, his muscles turning to static as the relaxed bliss settled within him.

Reilly looked down between them, down at his chest as it heaved against her own, feeling the subtle lift and fall of her body as his moved beneath it, feeling their shared slickness, the heat pouring from him to her, and vice versa.

It was reckless, maybe. It was pointless, too, probably. Getting mixed up with some ex-vault dweller while she was in hospital. 

She only allowed herself to realize it after the fact, after weeks of this exciting routine they’d formed. A routine she… she knew she really had no right to.

After all, her mates were still out there in the CW somewhere; stranded, wounded, dead, maybe… and here she was, grinding wantonly against a man she’d only known for a couple weeks, laying her lips over his in an attempt to steal his voice from the sound-carrying walls of the infirmary of this… what the hell was Underworld considered, anyway? A town? An exhibit? 

Right now it didn’t matter. 

Lone had saved her life, had been there when she woke, and every day since. He’d told her he would help her, that he’d try to find her team, but she couldn’t ask him to do that. 

What if he was hurt? What if he was killed? Reilly wouldn’t know the fate of him or her team, and even more than that, how the hell could she live with herself if something like that happened? If he died... because of her?

She knew, as solemn a thought as it was, she knew she already had blood on her hands in the form of her stranded Rangers. Sending Lone out there wouldn’t change anything. 

It was the right choice. It was right to keep him here, by her side. Reilly told herself that every day, every hour of every day. It was right to wait it out, to stay here with Lone…

Because her own selfish desires weren’t a good enough reason to keep him here when she knows her people are out there, in need of help. 

“Honestly?” Lone thankfully interrupted her thoughts. “I don’t really care if they hear.” He whispered, like it was the biggest, most sought-after secret in the Wasteland. 

Reilly managed a smile, but her thoughts were still distant, distracted. More so every day she worried about her men, her team, every day that she felt stronger, more able, she convinced herself she could be out there trying to find them, help them. Then they could all be the Rangers again. What the hell kind of leader is she if–

“Reilly, you okay?” Lone’s concerned voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, “Is– was something wrong?” 

“No,” She said quickly, “It’s not you, Lone, it was great. You were great… Just stuck in my head a bit, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that, baby.” His little, reassuring smile sent a deep ache to her chest. “You want me to try and distract you again? Hm? I can probably rally…” 

Reilly bit her lip at that, stuck between an amused smile and a repulsed frown.

She shouldn’t. Not again, not with him. Lone was… well, by any proper kind of standards, he really, truly was little more than a stranger to her. All their pet names, their wild romance, and still, what they were doing… it was no better than a series of one-night stands. Not to mention, with her condition, all this... activity was more than likely to be keeping her here longer than she had any right to. Especially with her men stranded–

God, she could go round and round in circles in her head for days. 

And hell, she did. 

Lone was the only relief from it, the only distraction that kept her catastrophizing at bay, that kept her from leaping out of this cot altogether and charging off into a fight she was bound to lose in the name of what? Loyalty? Courage? 

Reilly didn’t need to do that. She’d proved both those qualities in herself half a dozen times for each of her teammates. She knew she had to stay here, knew she had to recover, knew that that was the only way to, at least partially, ensure her friends’ survival. 

But then, why did she feel this way? This overwhelming guilt, uselessness, shame?

“You’re doing it again, sweetie.” 

Lone’s hands stroked up Reilly’s bare back, drawing soothing circles over the clammy skin there, and leaving a crop of goosebumps in their wake. 

“I’ll stop, okay? Stop with the jokes. Let’s just take a minute.” 

I can’t. She wanted to croak out– no, she wanted to scream.

I can’t take a minute, or a second, or a moment of this. Of silence, of laying here and doing nothing but listening to the asshole in my head that blames me for getting hurt on the battlefield.

It was inevitable, she was sure. No way to predict the way the firefight played out. Not until it was too late, anyway.

God, here I go again. Enough with the thoughts, the questioning, the lingering on the past… 

At least when they were fucking, as selfish and crass as it seemed, at least Reilly was doing something. She was working towards something, helping her partner feel good, giving him pleasure and praise, she was providing something for another. 

It’s what she does. 

It’s why she started the Rangers, how she found her teammates, how she convinced them to join her. By helping them, by being supportive and attentive. It’s why she exists here, now, in this fucked up reality, this hardened, savage world, because she can make it better dammit. 

One small piece at a time.

“Breathe with me, Riles. Just… clear your head, okay?”

Reilly finally forced herself to exit the fog of her thoughts, focusing on Lone’s request with everything in her to keep that inner voice at bay, and with a sigh, she was able to manage what he requested. 

Their bodies rose and fell against each other’s with each heavy breath, and Lone’s hands continued their soothing patterns over the skin of her back, until Reilly felt a peaceful fatigue drag at her eyelids. 

“That’s good.” His voice whispered, a completely new quality to it than before. The throaty arousal had dissipated, and left behind a comforting, low drawl. “Let your eyes close, keep your thoughts blank. It’s just you and me here. Nothing else exists.” 

His voice was all she allowed into or out of her head as she tried valiantly to obey his instructions, to keep her thoughts in the outskirts of her mind, to relax, for a change. 

She’ll take a damn firefight over meditation any day, but this… Reilly had to admit, it felt… nice. Freeing.

“I can feel how your whole body is relaxing. You’ve gotten a little heavier now.” He chuckled out the last bit, the laughs sending ripples through her body as he jostled her. 

“This feels much better, babe. Take another breath for me, and then hold it.” 

She felt him take in air with her, both their chests puffing up with the volume of it. 

“And now,” Lone said, his voice strained from the breath-holding, “Release.” 

Embarrassingly, hers almost came out as a moan, the heavenly feeling of her taut muscles finally relaxing proving to be overwhelming in the moment. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered from below, and Reilly allowed her eyes to blink open. Her gaze was still fuzzy with unfamiliar tranquility as she looked down at her unlikely partner with a soft grin. 

“How the hell did you get so good at that?”

“Well, my dad was a doctor, and I was supposed to be the vault therapist, i-if I stuck around, so… Guess I just remember all the prep I did to get ready for my career.” 

“A therapist, huh? That could really come in handy out here in the real world too, I think.” 

“Yeah?” 

She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, or just genuinely curious, but... Well, wasn't what she said rather obvious? This fucked-up world? The people around them-- hell, her?

That may as well have been a session.

“Oh, yeah." Reilly decided to keep her voice neutral, not to hurt his feelings. After what Lone just did-- has been doing for her since she met him, it was the absolute least she could do. "Already could think of a dozen or so patients to line up."

He beamed at that, delightfully. It quickly became infectious, and she found herself mirroring his smile.

"You’ll tell me when you’re open, right?” She continued, her voice a hundred times lighter than the thoughts in her head had been, only moments ago.

“Well, I could open now… but, you know. Then I’d have to charge ya.” 

Reilly rolled her eyes good-naturedly at that, and finally, felt calm enough to lay her head down and rest. Lone’s chest was warm beneath her cheek, and as she began to drift away, still, she felt his hands drawing sweet circles over her skin.

[llyncooljones]

i'm snow longer - twelve days of rowaelin '22.

ao3 || masterlist || twelve days of rowaelin ‘22 masterlist

prompt: hallmark movie. word count: 1942 trigger warnings: language, smut, sexting tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp  @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck @letstakethedawn @rowaelinscourt

the staghorn mountains, almost christmas.

The first time Aelin had retreated to a ski resort for the Christmas period, she’d been shocked. Shocked, not only by many people chose to spend time away from their families during such a time of community and family, but also by how many families chose to spend Christmas in a hotel. and not in the ultra-decorated, ultra-comfort of their homes.

She’d quickly realised she was being a hypocrite because wasn’t she just the same as all of those people? Avoiding her family on Christmas, choosing to spend Christmas morning declining calls, and watching the messages pile up during the moments she wasn’t skiing down the side of a slope.

And it was the fact of her reason that made her feel so much worse, she was avoiding spending time at home because ever since her father had died, her mother had brought home increasingly old men, with increasingly deep pockets. She was avoiding all of her friends, all of her family—but not her presents, she always emailed the address of the local post office to her friends and family—purely because she didn’t like her new stepdaddies.

To pile even more guilt on herself—Aelin sometimes liked to feel shit about herself, liked to think it gave her motivation, really it gave her an increasing bill for therapy—she’d been avoiding home for so long, that she now exclusively skied down Black Diamond slopes. She’d started out without gear, or even a clue.

She only visited for two weeks out of a year, to make matters worse.

By now, she recognised the locals, and the locals recognised her. in fact, she recognised the regulars at the ski resort, too. She knew which ones lived in the neighbouring towns during the snow season, knew which ones visited just for the weeks of Christmas frenzy.

Safe to say, she knew how to live her life at a ski resort, she’d been doing it for a long fucking time. Which meant she understood proper conduct when it came to skiing. She was no fool. Nor was she one to accept foolishness.

And if it led to sore knuckles for the next week, who cared?

In conclusion, when some dickhead with a fucking complex of some sort—she’d never sat down to memorise all of them, sue her—cut her up repeatedly, and refused to show some common fucking decency or even respect for fellow skiers, she’d make sure he was out of line.

So now here she was, bent down slightly, as aerodynamic as possible, skiing for her absolute life whilst chasing after the dickhead in the green kit who’d cut her up. So. Many. Times.

She focused on the snow, planning out the quickest route—and even then, she didn’t have to work very hard, she had it memorised—to get to him.

Maybe Aelin had a penchant for vigilante justice served with a side of her fists—sue her. She’d encountered every brilliant, fabulous, perfect person in her life due to her penchant, it had only done her good.

Up until the point the police had knocked on her door and issued her with a warning over a bar fight in which she’d punched a dude so hard, his friends called him ‘bobblehead’ afterwards. Now, she had to watch herself.

But who was going to drag out an already overworked police force to break up a fight, to break up Aelin doing a favour to the entire community at the ski resort? That was it, they would herald her a hero after, for eliminating a source of danger on the slopes.

She can hear the chants and feel the exhilaration of crowd surfing over her adoring fans. Yeah, this was going to be her best match yet, going to be her most famous.

Before she could fully comprehend it, the skier in green was just in front of her, slowed down and instead—practising? He seemed to be going over one position repeatedly, working his body into shapes that she didn’t want to know about.

She had the urge to laugh but instead pulled to a stop in the middle of a Black Diamond slope, pushing herself to the edge. The edge he was also on—oddly considerate for such a previously inconsiderate skier, but people had depth and were like onions when it came to structuring, so she disregarded her doubts. Being a dick about others once was enough to discount him as a quality skier.

“Hey!” she shouted, fumbling to pull down the fabric protecting her chin, mouth, and nose. He hadn’t heard her, so she tried again, “Hey!”

This time, he looked up—similarly pulling down the fabric over his face. Only, with a lot less fumbling, and a lot more skill. She hoped he thought her flushed cheeks were a result of the cold weather and not her sudden on-set embarrassment. He made a motion, to point himself, checking it was him she was talking to.

“Yeah, you. D’you see anyone else around here? Don’t play coy with me, dickhead. You know just why I’m here; you know full well you’ve been dangerous, reckless, and careless on the slope. You’ve cut me up seven times, and almost embedded yourself in a tree four times—and we’re only a third of the way down! I don’t enjoy fearing for my safety, nor others’, and I especially don’t like watching some dude’s brain explode over a tree trunk.”

She’d torn off her eye protection at one point, pulling them up to rest on her head. He’d followed suit, managing to make it look effortless, where she had fumbled, and plucked at the tight strappings. It was as if he’d done everything a thousand times before as if he was some kind of skiing master, a fucking Winter Olympics gold medallist.

Which he certainly was not—he couldn’t be, because those people knew how to ski, and this man evidently did not. Aelin could have kicked him in the shin she was mad at him. Her perfect brand of perfect vigilante justice.

It would be a perfect way to spend Christmas Eve, it could even be her Christmas present to herself.

“Thank you, for the concern. But I’m not about to flatten myself to a tree trunk, and also, by cutting you up, did you mean skiing perfectly safely across you, roughly 20 metres ahead of you? and if you did, I suggest you learn what skiing means.” His breath didn’t make little clouds in the air, and Aelin assumed it was due to the ice heart that he housed in his chest. He clearly was just as cold and just as frigid as the air was, a third of the way down a pretty fucking tall mountain.

i.e., he was very cold and very frigid. Perfect for riling up, pissing off, and beating up.

One of Aelin’s favourite things to do—under the large, umbrella term of vigilante justice, of course.

“Give it a rest, you think you fucking walk on water—”

“—correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what snow is? Again, correct, but I do believe it is water in a frozen-ish state. But don’t catch me out on the science of it all—I haven’t gone to a science class in over fifteen years—”

“—you’re just the type to say that, you know. I could tell. The second I opened my mouth and said what I did, I got a psychic vision of you being a pretentious, pedantic arsehole and telling me all that. Telling me all that and going all shy and bullshit.” He let her finish her sentence, but she was immediately thrust back into his delusional environment.

“Please spare me the lecture—you’d be more useful if you were dead, than giving me, me of all people, about how to fucking ski.” Before she could consider his words, her hand was flying out, slapping him around the face.

“Don’t you dare—how fucking rude, and inconsiderate, and inhuman do you have to be, to wish fucking death on someone. Someone you don’t even know—I genuinely, genuinely, pray that I never see you ever again.”

She felt so strongly that she’d order room service for the rest of her stay, that she’d stick to the baby slopes with all the incapable children, and parents who wished they were on Black Diamond slopes. She hated him so thoroughly that she’d willfully immerse herself in a child-rich area.

Gods, this man was clearly doing funny things to her. not only regarding her choices to avoid him but in her style of violence. She typically would punch someone—felt as though it would hurt more, and leave a deeper, darker, more painful mark.

This idiotic, stuck-up-his-own-arse dickhead deserved something so humiliating as to be slapped around the face. So hard that he twisted around, and was almost knocked off balance. That was what he deserved, with a nice defined handprint across his cheek—the cherry on top of the already perfect cake.

He shook his head and opened his mouth, but Aelin had enough self-preservation to understand that she needed to get out of there. Soon. As soon as possible, or else she was going to find herself with a wonderful mugshot.

Before he could get his sentence out, Aelin was sliding her eye protection down, and tightening the thick fabric keeping the bottom half of her face warm(ish). It seemed that no matter which brands she tried, or who she consulted on the matter, she came out with a snowy chin, and a nose verging on frostbite.

Clearly, she didn’t care too much, given that she was still skiing with the pain, and suffering it ultimately delivered to her doorstep.

She let her anger flow through her as she skied down the mountainside, taking riskier and riskier corners and jumps, though still somewhat more careful than she would be, with the knowledge her newfound arch nemesis was somewhere behind her. the scenery was slowly shifting around her, the thick, tall pine trees thinning out, making room for rocks, and the pale blue of the winter’s sky.

The snow was practically untouched due to the early hour, just a couple of sets of tracks that never seemed to stray far from one another. The chance someone was training was low—but Aelin knew of some hard-core skiers who never took a day off. If there wasn’t snow, they’d simply find an artificial slope somewhere.

It was dedication in a way that Aelin couldn’t fathom, nor could she aspire to it. The only thing she was just as dedicated to, was not being introduced to her thirty-seventh stepdad in four years.

The trees dissolved from her view, leaving only the sky and the clouds, and the glaring sunshine. Her eyes burned, but she couldn’t look away—mesmerised by the twinkling of it against the snow, the shifting particles in the air.

It was gorgeous.

All until a fiercely cut figure in green smoothed his way across the snow but five metres in front of her, having come from within the trees. It was dangerous, and she was pissed off. She was more than pissed off—he’d disrespected her, and all the fellow skiers on the slope, just to be a show-off, just to seem cool, he’d been rude, cold, and inconsiderate in the most horrifying of ways.

All Aelin could do was watch on as he threw up a distinct middle finger, his dark green a stark contrast against the white snow.

Oh, she’d get him, she’d get him.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Are You There, God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester

Welcome to “I Think That Means Sam Is Grover: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

  Up today, s4e2: Are You There God? It’s Me, Dean Winchester.

 Dean’s not convinced Cas is who he says he is—not just because he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around angels, but also because he thinks it’s unfathomable that God would choose to save *him* or recruit him for anything. Meanwhile, hunters are dying off weird and bloody. Sam, Dean, and Bobby look into it and discover that spirits of the dead are being risen and bound to someone to do as they are bidden. The spirits of Meg, Victor, Ronald, and two little girls that Bobby couldn’t save come for the boys and Bobby, and Dean, in particular, is eaten up with guilt over his inability to save everyone. The episode ends with a late-night visit from Cas where he reveals to Dean that Lilith is trying to break the 66 seals that will allow Lucifer to rise. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a floppy feather.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

  Lor:

 nnnngggg Cas

 Mace:

 CAS

 YAS

  Lor:

 LOL YES

Mace:

 this is a LONG intro

  Lor:

 I was just gonna say!

did they think people FORGOT?

 Mace:

 “because we have work for you” I have some work for you, Cas...

  Lor:

 LOLOLOL

 ooo Hunter living in a space that could just as easily be 25 years ago as it could be when it is set

 Mace:

 YES

 she looks amazing in that shirt

  Lor:

 YES

there is nothing like a woman in a scoop or v-neck t-shirt that fits her perfect

 Mace:

 YESYESYES

  Lor:

 "groped by an angel"

DEEEEEAN

 Mace:

 OMG

 DON'T EAT THAT DEAN

  Lor:

 "yeah, you just did, Dean"

Hahaha Sammy

 Mace:

 Fairy dust, Dean? I don’t think that’s PC

  Lor:

 omg Dean in his Henley over a t-shirt. he's all snuggy

 Mace:

 YAS

  Lor:

 HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

 the way he rubs his shoulder

 Mace:

 it’s not “cuniform” Bobby. Christ.

 YAS

  Lor:

 LOLOLOLOLOL

 Vegas money has been on yeah ALL ALONG. your incantations and shit WORK

 Mace:

 “who actually gives a crap about me?” OH DEAN

 oh DEAN HONEY

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

EVERYONE HUG HIM

 "I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties" oh MUFFIN

 Mace:

 aw, he’s an INTROVERT

  Lor:

 he IS

 "you're gonna get me some pie"

 Mace:

 YAS HE NEEDS PIE

  Lor:

 remember later when the bunker is full of strangers and he hides in his room? MY SOULMATE

 Mace:

 ALWAYS YOU ALWAYS FORGET THE PIE SAMMY

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

when has he ever REMEMBERED THE PIE

 Mace:

 HAHAHAH

  Lor:

 (actually my headcanon is that he never forgets the pie. he deliberately doesn't get it because he's a little brother)

 Mace:

 (oh i assumed that that’s actual canon because OF COURSE)

  Lor:

 no, Sam, she's a waitress at a diner who needs to know about angels

 (YES)

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 "something's up, huh?"

pets him

 Mace:

 YES

 ew

  Lor:

 yeah, seriously gross

 Mace:

 “they’ve redecorated. in red”

HAHHA BOBBY

  Lor:

 BOBBYYYY

 OMG Dean asleep and letting Sam drive

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 nope. Victor would 100% appear to Dean first

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

agreed

 ooof

  Lor:

 spooky kids. always with the spooky kids

 Mace:

 “don’t think at all” omg Dean

  Lor:

 YES

 Sam gets all in his head and fretful and Dean is all frantic nervous energy

 Mace:

 YES

 i love Bobby’s half creepy half cozy half absolute fucking mess house

  Lor:

 YES

 Mace:

 look, I don’t like demon meg much either, but lady? women can dress the way they want without judgment

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

 And she's not exactly not showing skin herself. like, don't be misogynistic and especially don't be a hypocrite about it

 Mace:

 EXACTLY

  Lor:

 ooooof Dean

hon, it's not your fault

not EVERYTHING is your fault

 Mace:

 he needs all the hugs this ep

  Lor:

 he really does

 he doesn't think he's a hero

 Mace:

 no he doesn't

  Lor:

 oh Dean

 Mace:

 yep

 SAMMY

  Lor:

 oooof

they are getting so beat up

 Mace:

 SMARTY DEAN

  Lor:

 oooo clever Dean

 Mace:

 they really are

  Lor:

 I call shenanigans on Dean being able to stand up straight and walk around (more evidence for our theory about when the injuries last)

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 "I had a weekend off"

 Mace:

 YAS

 “you’re awesome” DED

  Lor:

 I love that Dean tells Bobby he's awesome

 YES

 "if he is out there, what's wrong with him?"

"why doesn't he help?"

I love that Dean has this crisis

AND that they come back to it waaaaay later

 Mace:

 I’m still having that crisis, Dean

  Lor:

 YEP

 "tourists"

 aaaaaah I love it when they say something at the same time

 Mace:

 YES

 They need Buffy to give them a seminar on apocalypses

  Lor:

 he wants to go to the Star Trek Experience. LET’S GO, DEAN. LET'S GET SHIT AT THE GIFTSHOP

 YES

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA YES

  Lor:

 "aim careful"

I love Bobby

 Mace:

 i love bobby

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 HAAHAAAAHAHA

 awww Ronald

 Mace:

 oh boy

 “don’t talk” HAHAHA

  Lor:

 okay, Ronald, hon, I like you, buddy, and I KNOW Dean feels terrible about your death, but you are dead because of you

 YES

 Mace:

 yep

 “opium?”

  Lor:

 YES

and the little hand gesture he makes when Bobby tells him to go

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 this is SUCH a good way to set up some of the major themes of this season. Sam's a monster, Dean doesn't think he's worthy

 Mace:

 AGREED

 but there isn’t any Cas and that’s a problem for me

  Lor:

 I think he shows up for a minute at the end?

 oh DEAN

his trembly lip I CANNOT

 Mace:

 omg DEAN

  Lor:

 I LOVE when Dean says no when someone asks if he's all right

 Mace:

 “you alright?” “no” the truthiest truth he’s ever spoken

 YES

  Lor:

 YAAAAS

 "I'm not a cheeseburger" SNORK

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 ...dammit. now I want one

 Mace:

 and now I want a cheeseburger

 AHAHAHAHA

  Lor:

 MACE

OMG us today

 Mace:

 YAAASSS

  Lor:

 where do they get these little girls who do the creepy thing SO WELL?

 Mace:

 RIGHT?!?!

  Lor:

 actually, you know what, never mind. I remember being a little girl. we dark as fuck sometimes

 Mace:

 SNORK!!!!

  Lor:

 Dean sleeps on the floor so Sammy can have the couch

(though I do not believe for a second this house doesn't have more than one bedroom)

 GOD Cas just leaning on the sink like that

 Mace:

 right?! what does bobby have in all those upstairs rooms!

 YASYASYAS

 “not dicks” HAHAHA

  Lor:

 "Michael Landon. Not dicks"

 YAAAAS

 LIAR. you are 100% there to perch on his shoulder

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 omg Cas raising his hands and Dean's little "did I just threaten an angel of the lord?" face

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA YEP

there is SO MUCH TENSION

  Lor:

 RIGHT?

they are standing SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER

 the LIGHTING

 Mace:

 YES

  Lor:

 the EXTREME closeups where you can't NOT focus on their lips and their eyes

 Mace:

 YEP

 Misha doesn’t blink and I love that

  Lor:

 and the Dom/sub undercurrent. I like this scene a normal amount vibrates at a frequency unknown to science

 YES

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA AGREED

 the way Dean gets uncomfortable when Cas leans in

  Lor:

 omg that lean in and "you should show me some respect"

 YAAAAAS

 Mace:

 YESYESYES

  Lor:

 and then he's gone and Dean's leaning on the sink

I cannoooooot

and the cut to him waking up on the floor

 Mace:

 sock-footed Sammy OMG

  Lor:

 the first time I watched this ep, I wondered if only Dean could see Cas

 YES

 Mace:

 oh INTERESTING

  Lor:

 which would have been an interesting way to go, at least for a little bit

 Mace:

 Ha! Cas as Snuffleupagus to Dean’s Big Bird I LOVE IT

  Lor:

 OMG YES

I need that fanart

 Mace:

 YAAASSS

[tchaikovskym]

Wangxian fic recs pt3

(Part 1 here, part 2 here)

Was the Alcohol Sweet, or Was it Your Mouth? by weiyus

Wei Ying believes Lan Zhan should get to experience alcohol, but sadly Lan Zhan has a low alcohol tolerance. His solution to the problem? Simply have Lan Zhan kiss Wei Ying after Wei Ying drinks alcohol. It's fool proof! What could go wrong?

Honestly a bit silly concept, but you know, it's still good

your love is sunlight by doodlebutt

So we gave Wei Wuxian a new golden core. We got Wangxian together over a decade earlier than canon. We rescued the Wens without causing a political nightmare.

Job done, right?

Nope :D

No quote excerpt on this one -- we don't reach the problems until after quite a few chapters of fluff, so I'm not going to give them away just yet!

This diverges from MDZS canon rather than CQL (so no yin iron, etc)

This is a part of larger series, but overall, just cute fluff

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan

Suddenly, it snaps into place. The weary way Lan Zhan has been holding himself is suddenly cast in a new, much more distressing light. Somebody is responsible for it, a real live, horrible, blind, stupid person. The combination of guilt, sadness, and anger that sets in all at once is hard to contain. Lingering wisps of resentment that remain from the night-hunt flock to him, like calling to like.

All four boys stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wei-qianbei,” Sizhui says. “You look...um…”

“Scary,” Zizhen breathes, beaming.

“Who has rejected Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Or; during one of his visits to the Cloud Recesses, the juniors strike a blow to Wei Wuxian's certainty that his feelings for Lan Wangji are one-sided.

Oh the oblivious guys mhhhmmm yeah that's the thing.

Imbalance by blueingaround

In hindsight, Wei Wuxian should probably have known something like this would happen. But he was the first person to really invest so much in demonic cultivation and the only way to find out more about how things worked was to simply try them out. The thing about having to deal with ghosts and often harvesting their anger for power is that you can’t really choose which ones are the best fit, especially when you’re desperate and need all the help you can get.

aka Wei Wuxian has an imbalance of yin energy and can't deal with it on his own bc he doesn't have a golden core anymore, he needs to dual cultivate with someone, but in the middle of a war, he has no time and trusts no one, things escalate from there

I usually do not enjoy fuck or die tropes, but when I'm desperate I get to places I get and I am glad I ended up here! It was a really engaging read

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

You know when you're traumatized enough you volunteer to marry your crush so he wouldn't have to go through with potential arranged marriage and you think that's like a completely sane thing to do? Yeah. Me too. The good stuff.

it's always open by ScarlettStorm

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I dunno,” Wei Ying says, offering up a smile that’s small but genuine. “Can you rewire my brain so I don’t panic when people want to kiss me?”

“I do not believe so,” Lan Zhan says with exaggerated mournfulness. (Most people would not be able to tell he was doing so, but most people are not Wei Ying.) It would normally get him a laugh, or a snort, or his favorite, a snort laugh, but Wei Ying doesn’t respond. He just sits there and stares at Lan Zhan like he’s doing extremely complicated math in his head and choreographing a nine-person dance number at the same time.

“Lan Zhan,” he starts, a light sparking in his eyes and his voice coming out rushed, “Lan Zhan, could you—would you be okay with—”

“Breathe,” Lan Zhan orders gently, squeezing Wei Ying’s hand again.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes but obeys, inhaling deeply and re-centering himself before he looks Lan Zhan full in the face, shoulders square and chin up. “Will you kiss me?” he asks, like that’s a reasonable thing to ask and not the culmination of over a decade of Lan Zhan’s specific, secret, fervent dreams.

Or: A journey of self discovery… and the inevitable emotional fallout.

Man I loved this because demisexual Wei Ying yeehaw!!!! I was so excited to read this! And it was good!!!!

solstice: 那夏天的我们 by auberjing

Lan Zhan, have you, ah… have you ever…”

Lan Wangji blinks up at him, bewildered. “Have I ever…?”

“You know,” Wei Ying says, waggling his eyebrows. He makes a vague gesture around his own crotch. It’s halfhearted, but there’s no mistaking its vulgarity.

Lan Wangji flushes, suddenly and violently. “Of course not!"

See also: Wei Ying takes it upon himself to teach his good friend Lan Wangji how to masturbate.

Them boys are little stupid, but what can you do about it ya' know

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea

Lan Zhan literally ties their wrists together in Lan Yi’s cave and then says they’re not married. Because it’s true, or because he doesn’t want to be? Wei Ying doesn’t want to ask until he knows everything being a secret family member will let him do.

(Eventually he'll realize he got distracted from his mission of mischief by falling in love. Worth it.)

This!! Was!!! So cute!!!!! Ahhhh. A part of bigger series though!

The Way of the Golden Lotus by DizziDreams

Wei Ying would never forget the day he first met Wheatgrass Guy. He had been rotating the stock of bananas, cleaning out the over-ripe ones to move to the bargain bin, when it had happened. “Excuse me. Where can I find the wheatgrass?” “End cap, row four -- ” Wei Ying started to answer. And then he saw him. Standing there in his flowy white tunic and his pale blue linen pants, as if that was a thing that people did. Who did that? Was it legal to do that? Wei Ying thought not.  “Thank you,” Wheatgrass Guy had said, his startlingly light eyes boring into him. “No problem,” Wei Ying had managed. “Let me know if you need help with bananas.” Wei Ying should not be allowed to speak. Who had entrusted him with words? “I will let you know if I need any help,” Wheatgrass Guy had said graciously, and Wei Ying thought that this guy was too good, too amazing, too kind, letting it slide like that -- “with bananas.” Oh. Oh no, that was worse. Wheatgrass Guy was kind of a bitch.

OR:

The Martial Arts AU, wherein JC/WWX co-parent, Jin Ling suffers through being raised by his uncles, and WWX/LWJ fight their way through some mutual attraction toward a happy ending.

Oh man oh dudes I loved this fic!!! Kudos to author for actually writing children as children!!!! Did I already say I loved it?

[possumnotrat]

Hiiiii

For the new fic: so sorry that you have a body, would you willing to write a little on Beas tendency to punish herself for things that aren’t really wrong. It’s just that the guilt of doing them has been so engraved into her by her parents, that if she doesn’t punish herself, she feels like she is suffocating.

Also you’re awesome and I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!

She’d neglected to visit for two months, she realized as she walked up to the door.

She hadn’t seen her son in two whole months, how fucked up was that?

Normal mothers saw their kids every day, and then there was her. She wanted to hit herself, she wanted to cry and scream and hurt herself.

Beatrice rubbed at the bite mark on the heel of her hand, a dotted line of bruises that she had inflicted upon herself on the train because she didn’t know what to do with these feelings- these impossibly big feelings that she didn’t know how to deal with, as they were so all over the place and wild, slipping out of her grasp whenever she attempted to contain them.

She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to what her parents would think, would they tell her that she’s a terrible mother? Berate her for leaving her son with Liza? (That man who thinks he’s a woman, they’d say, not her name) Would they demand that they take him instead? They would, they definitely would, they would tell her that they were the ones that kept him alive in the first place, as they had prevented her from going to the clinic, telling her that she could be a murderer or a mother, and that she had to choose.

Some mother she was.

The doorbell sang when she pressed it, ringing throughout the front hall.

Read the rest on Ao3 👀

Sorry it took so long to get to this- YOURE AWESOME AND I LOVE YOU TOO <3

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

Pt. 11: Enter: Midnight.

The past week, Asher hadn't caught a wink of sleep. Too busy letting her pretty little head fuss around with thoughts of Stefan and worrying over if he would retaliate or take her act of mercy as the warning it was meant to be.

If he had, then all she had to worry about was the swiftly approaching Extermination, and an upcoming visit from Lucifer himself. But, how could she handle that if she couldn't even sleep or eat? She decided to deal with it the best way she knew; music. She settled on her bed with a guitar and began playing with different chords, getting a feel for her musical mood. She'd not ever wrote her own music, choosing instead to bring music from the human world to the people of Hell when she was given the opportunity.

Until Charlie had asked her to come down and do something with her since Vaggie was practicing with her spear. The doe agreed, following the Princess quietly despite her hoofed feet making clicking noises on the flooring. If she wanted to she could muffle the sound slightly so that her steps were silent, but it was just her and the other seven in the hotel so she didn't bother with it.

-♡

"And then you weave it together like this so you can adjust it when you put it on or take it off." Asher explained, slender fingers skillfully tying together a bracelet before sliding it onto Charlie's wrist.

The Princess beamed at it, before deciding she was ready to try it herself, until a loud explosion is heard and black spikes are launched through the wall previously fixed due to Sir Pentious blowing it up.

"What the fuck is it with that wall and getting blown up?" Angel Dust questioned, glaring at the wall.

Asher shrugged, her ears twitching in curiosity. Well, until the culprit sauntered in.

"Midnight?!" She snarled, standing briskly.

"Oi bitch! Learn to fuckin' answer when you're summoned!" Midnight snaps.

Midnight was a mere inch shorter than Asher, with lavender colored skin and black wavy hair that glittered with light blues and purples. Her eyes were a dark blue with catish slits. She had fox-like ears and two fox tails that swished wildly behind her as she stormed into the hotel. She wore red high waisted jeans with a black halter top and black flats.

Asher rolled her eyes at the fox.

"Last time I checked, I didn't owe you, you owed me." Asher huffed, crossing her arms as she moved to stand a few feet away from Midnight.

Midnight rolled her eyes, the ever bratty demoness. "Here's the sitch, I leave for two days and come back to you gone. I try multiple times to summon you to figure out what the ever living fuck is going on, and I'm ghosted. So yes, I'm a little pissed." Midnight growls, getting in Asher's face.

Asher sighs. "I told you weeks prior I was planning on leaving, Night."

"I don't care, Asher, I thought.." Midnight doesn't finish the sentence, and Asher's ears and tail furrow in guilt.

The others in the hotel are just staring at the bizarre scene in front of them, until Angel clears his throat and Asher remembers where exactly she is.

"Hope you have money." Asher huffed, whirling around and rolling her eyes.

"What? Why?" The fox asks, ears fluffing out in defense.

[babygirlsthoughtsexactly]

Its 3:12 am and really I'm back to fucking tired. These days all I ever want to do is sleep. Seems in serious bouts of depression my dreams are a much more enjoyable place for me to be. At least only while I'm in active addiction, because when I am not self medicating and l the trauma catches up to me sleep is a never ending nightmare. Literally. I must remember. I chose this, AGAIN. I am 100% positive my LO will not like this at all, but I guess I am going to enjoy my outlet until I have to stop. Really I just want to be heard, I am also important after all. Life is hard. I miss my mamaw and even more all the guilt that I chose to get high instead of visiting her to say goodbye or attend her funeral. I'm sure this is something I will regret for the rest of my life. So inevitability I've been struggling with her death and not having someone to talk to when things get hard. I have my mental health problems (bipolar, anxiety, PTSD) but the situation I am in sometimes seems like I'm drowning and I'll never get out cause I just keep jumping into the fucking pool DAMN WELL knowing I don't know how to swim. I already feel a little better. There are so many things I miss, my kids, my family, coke, sugar, a home, stability, affection, feeling like I'm worth absolutely anything. This time is different. Last time I was done fighting trying to get out and this time it literally feels like life or death mostly. My life is definitely unmanageable and I am without a doubt absolutely miserable, so why do I always want to get high? So much so that I willingly and knowingly put myself in such an environment because all I care about at the time is getting high. I don't even recognize who I am anymore. I used to be so full of life, so confident. All I prayer for the vast majority of my life was to be a mom. Years actually I had spent in tears wondering why h first husband and I couldn't get pregnant. Now , I have three absolutely beautiful children who live in separate homes because I can't seem to get my shit together long enough to build a better life for them. And damn when the numbness wears off I FUCKING moss them. Recently I was told to choose because if I wanted to be with him, then I was not able to have them on my life as well. Gut wrenching guilt whenever I'm not numb so I consistently chase that.. Even though every single time I get clean and start over I am absolutely happy.. Or am I? Definitely medicated. Christmas was the first time I had all 3 of my babies together in 2 years and I wasn't able to be completely present because all I could think about was getting high. I really need to call them, but shame is fucking real. I pray that one day I'll be able to be a permanent part of their life, but I still undoubtedly do not want to bring them through any part of the HELL that I am going through. Hell every single day I have to worry about whether or not I will be able to stay where I am obviously unwanted. WHY? Ending now my attention is needed elsewhere.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Five - yəl̕yəlab

The humor didn’t last long; Dad’s face overcasted like a storm on the sea, shadows of pain and guilt and regret. “I…it was to protect you two. All of us.” Standing abruptly, he closed the container his untouched food was in, saying, “Not here. Come on, I want to take you two somewhere.” 

6.9k words | 23 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death mentions,

AUTHOR NOTE: yəl̕yəlab - ancestors. Lushootseed.

Easier said than done. 

 Theresa warned me that the cops were pulling kids in for ‘inquiries’ at the Admin office, questioning anyone they could about anything they knew about Brent and I. They were probably doing the same at COLE, too. And really, how hard would it be to track a phone? Brent’s phone was already fucked, the screen cracked and refusing to turn on, but just in case, I yanked it from the wall of the small room, walking back outside and chucking both our phones as far into the Puget Sound as I could get them to soar. Mine skid against a sheet of ice before falling into the water, Brent’s immediately diving in as if it was waiting for this moment the whole time. 

 “I hope you ran that by your father first,” Betty said behind me. 

 I spun in place like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, ma’am, I didn’t—“ 

 “Please,” she scoffed, sitting at one of the hand carved benches painted blue. “Call me Betty. I don’t care how old I look, I’m too young for ma’am.” 

 She looked at me expectantly, patting the spot beside her when I didn’t move. As I walked over, she said, “I can’t believe how big you are. You had just learned to say my name before you all had to go. Of course, you couldn’t use your t’s correctly, so it came out more like Bebby.” She chuckled, watching me sit. “It was so sweet.” 

 But that…that can’t have been. We've only ever visited Seattle, and even then, only twice. I'd never been here, at this reservation, in my life...I’d never met her before now. I think. 

 She picked up on my confusion, her wrinkled and liver spotted hand laying on my thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Are you alright, Regina?” 

 I scoffed. Of course I wasn’t alright. “Everything’s so different now, and I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” I admitted, “I’m….” Scared. Though I couldn’t admit it out loud.

 She hummed. “You know, I was there when your father got his powers. Or, no, his first one. Whichever it is.” She pointed at a cliff across the bay. “I was in a warehouse right over there, when he saved me. And I was in the Longhouse when he saved me again.” 

 “He saved your life twice?” 

 “Yep.” She nodded. “After that monster put concrete in my legs. She had killed quite a few of us. And to think, it was all a big political stunt.” Brooke Augustine. She must have been talking about her. “Your father decided to go to Seattle and gain her power, to help his tribe.” 

 Betty turned to face me. “And you, your brother, you both have that same choice.”

 “Wh—what do you mean?” I stuttered. “Are your people in trouble?” 

 “Our people,” she corrected. “You’re just as Akomish as the rest of us. But no dear. I mean, now that you have a choice, what will you choose? To be the helper? Or to hide?” 

 This felt very ‘Uncle Ben’ like. I’d barely been a Conduit for 17 hours and was already getting preached to about responsibility. I didn’t want the power or the responsibility. “I want to pretend like this isn’t happening.”

 “And why is that?” 

 “Because—“ I faltered in my frustration. “I’m — he lied! Dad lied to us about everything, and I’m not even sure what’s going on still, and he just runs off like this is some movie and he’s gotta go save the day when we’re…” I hung my head. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. What’s real and what’s not.”

 “Well, he loves you. I know you know that’s real.” Betty sat back on the bench, relaxing. “And I know he’s been trying to protect you two for 16 years, now.” 

 “Protect us from what, though?” I interjected. “My Dad isn’t some big revolutionist! He can barely make chicken parm. He’s the guy who secretly loves to watch Telenovelas with English captions a-and makes me paint Brent’s number on his cheek when he gets to go to games. He’s not Delsin Rowe.”

 She hummed again. That’s all she seemed to do was hum, like it was how she processed words. “I became Delsin’s foster mother when he was your age. A little bit younger, actually — he had just turned 17.” She looked off to the horizon, cool steam lifting from the Sound and threatening to settle on it, freeze it over. “His mother and father were on the east coast when the — when Empire City happened. They caught the Ray Field Plague and…” she sighed. No need to elaborate on what happened to people who had that radiation poisoning. “He became mine when the state came for him. Tribe gets first choice when an Indian goes into foster care, after all. 

 “Then those Conduits broke out, and…your father had smoke coming out of his hands.” She shook her head, somehow finding enough humor in the situation to laugh. “And you know what? He didn’t get time to play around with his powers, either. But you know what the difference is between his situation, and yours?” 

 “What?” 

 “You have him.” She gave my thigh another soft squeeze. “He’s going to be there every step of the way, helping you two, teaching you, protecting you. Things will make sense in time,” 

 Yeah, this was definitely the weird pep-talk-from-loving-elder part of the hero's journey. Bit awkward coming from someone I didn’t really know. 

 But she had a point. Dad was a thousand things; dorky, passionate, loyal. But he wasn’t someone who’d lie without reason. We grew up not knowing who Santa Claus was cause he couldn’t bear the thought of lying to Brent and me about it.

 Patting my thigh gently, she stood, making that groaning noise every old person does when they’re forced to use their knees. “Well, it’s too early to worry about anything besides breakfast! Come, Regina, you can help me make French toast.” 

 Brent seemed to rise to the smell before I fully closed the door of our enclosure. “Food?” He grumbled, voice thick with exhaustion.

 “Me bring food, yes.” I joked in a monotone and forced-deep voice. Closing the door with my foot, I walked over to Brent as he sat up, laying the plate of powdered French toast in his lap. “Helped Betty make it.” 

 “You got up early,” Brent remarked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. 

 I could only shake my head. “I didn’t go to sleep.” I took the space on the couch before he could decide to abandon the food and sleep in, cutting into my toast. But I felt his eyes on me, and sighed, asking, “What, Brent?” 

 “Nothing, it’s just—“ He shrugged beside me, his food untouched. “What’re we gonna do?” 

 “Right now, or in the future?” 

 “Is there a difference?” 

 Setting down my fork, I looked over to him. Disheveled Brent was my favorite Brent; it looked like actual him and not some façade he was putting up to impress his friends. Downy hair all thrown about, no super straight posture or anything. He was always so concerned about fitting in that he always sorta…faded away. No one got to see him as the sibling I knew him as. “Well, the now is we eat. We didn’t have dinner last night, so we need it.” 

 “And in the future?” 

 “I—“ I sighed. “I have no idea. Can’t do much, till Dad comes back.” 

 Brent hummed, picking up his fork to poke indiscriminately at his food. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

 “Yeah,” I nodded, at least able to put more conviction in those words. Dad, if he…if this was true, and he was Delsin Rowe, he knew what he was doing. He knew how to protect himself, stay alive. I knew Betty was right; he was off trying to fix the mess I made for him, so he could come back and help us. And he’d be back. “Yeah, he’s fine. C’mon, eat.” 

 Silence hung for a while as we both picked at our food, giving in to the hunger that was being suppressed by all the action from the past few hours. Breakfast was scarfed down in no time, both of us muttering agreements to find some drink — and hopefully a few toothbrushes. Wonder if Betty would let us use her shower? 

 The Longhouse was some sort of community center, full of plaques and art and weaved blankets. The Akomish were a part of the Twana, this collective group of long-extinct tribes that once lived in this area according to the main informational plaque. They were one of the few to survive after everything the Americans did, and they took their job in reeducation very seriously. There were already a few people meandering about, staring curiously at Brent and I before shrugging and moving on. 

 Being a community center apparently meant it had to stay stocked, a few little kids already raiding the same fridge we were going to for snacks. They giggled, rushing off with their loot when they spotted Brent and I as if trying to protect it from being reclaimed. 

 “Wonder if Betty knows they’re here,” Brent reached into the fridge, grabbing two water bottles and passing me one. 

 “Please,” I snorted, opening mine, “If she’s anything like she gave away this morning, she encourages it.” 

 And that was true. Betty had this air of Doting Grandma, the lady who’s house you’d leave with a full stomach and some snuck candies in your pocket. As we made breakfast, she had shown me where all the good stuff was, chocolates and snacks and her recipe book I was allowed to use ‘so long as I included her.’ 

 We chugged the waters back, refilling them in the huge compartment sink and tipping back more before deciding we should visit the restrooms to make ourselves presentable. We left Portland with nothing but our school bags, which meant we were low on supplies. I had a spare sweater I kept around for when I inevitably got food on myself, but Brent was left wearing the blue and orange Akomish Rez souvenir shirt and dirty jeans. I wasn’t doing much better in my sticky ones. I hadn’t even gotten to rub the soda off of them before everything went down yesterday. 

 “Blegh, I need a toothbrush,” Brent immediately complained to me as he opened the Restroom door. “Think Betty has any?” 

 I shrugged, yawning. I’d been up for over 32 hours now, and definitely was beginning to feel it. “We can go ask her?” I strained through the elongated yawn, almost locking my jaw. 

 Brent just laughed. “How about I go talk to her, and you try to sleep? You look like shit,” 

 “Thanks, bro,” I rolled my eyes, “You’re so kind.” But honestly, sleep sounded absolutely amazing right now. My body was finally shutting down, with or without my brain’s consent. 

 “Go,” he laughed, “I’ll come get you if you sleep through dinner,” 

 I muttered some goodbyes, stumbling back to the room and taking the couch. I was passed out before I even fully settled down. 

 “Jean,” A hushed voice pleaded, “Jean, wake up.” 

 I peeled my face from the leather, wiping away the drool that dribbled down my cheek. God, was it already dinner time? I felt like I was barely asleep for more than an hour. 

 Brent was inches from my face, so close that my eyes crossed trying to focus in on him. I blinked a few times, rubbing my eyes and groaning, “What?” 

 “You’ve gotta wake up, we—“ he shot a look over his shoulder. “There’s a bunch of people from Homeland Security here, looking for Dad.” 

 Homeland security? I stretched, rubbing my eyes. “What? Is Dad here?” 

 “No, but they’re also asking about us.” 

 That got me moving. 

 I bolted upright, glancing with Brent to the opened room door. Us? Sure, maybe I could understand Dad, but what did they want us for? “Do they have a warrant?” 

 “It's the Feds, you think they give a shit about warrants?” Brent looked back at the door. “Besides, aren’t all reservations federal land? Do they even need one?” 

 I had no idea, and I didn’t like that I didn’t know. 

 I threw off my blanket, standing. Betty’s voice floated towards us, insisting, “I haven’t seen him since 2018! It’s been so long, I don’t even know if he’s alive,” 

 “He owned a residence here ‘till 2020,” a brash voice said. “Which he sold to you. And he was spotted in Portland after an altercation. We just need to investigate, we wish to speak to him and the two minors, if it’s possible.” 

 “Ugh, fine!” Her voice seemed louder, stressed. Like she was trying to make it travel on air. “You can start in my house just over here! Search all you want, there’s no one here.” 

 She was trying to divert them away so we could make a break for it. 

 I went to pull on Dad’s jacket, stopping midway. Brent’s jacket was bloodstained and with a bullet hole, he couldn’t wear that outside. “Put this on, pull the hood on,” I demanded, throwing him the jacket and moving to hover by the doorframe, listening. There was mild chatter in the Longhouse, gossip as people said Delsin? Isn’t he dead? and could they be talking about his kids? 

 Gossip was good at least, it meant there weren’t eavesdroppers. The Feds had to be on the other side of the Longhouse, now.

 Brent appeared beside me, flush against the wall with Dad’s jacket on now, hood pulled over the beanie the cotton Conduit gave him. “Where do we go?” He asked. 

 God, I didn’t even know where to start. I wasn’t familiar with this place at all! There were woods, but we could only get to them from the front of the Longhouse, and I bet there were people outside, too. Who’s to say they weren’t surrounding the place now? 

 I needed Dad. If he was here, he’d know what to do. Where to go and hide and, if they found us, what to say to them so we wouldn’t incriminate ourselves. If anyone asked me about what happened yesterday, I think I’d break down and weep about it all. Totally guilt-ridden. 

 But we couldn’t stay here, in the Longhouse. It was a sure fire way to get caught by those Federal Agents and be taken into some kind of custody. What if they used laws to take us from Dad? Our birthday was four weeks away, they could wait till we were adults too. It was too dangerous to stay. 

 “We should go to the back,” I said to Brent. It was farthest from Betty’s stairwell. “To that patio area.” 

 “You mean the area on a cliff, facing the fucking ocean?” Brent demanded, looking at me like I was an idiot. 

 “You got a better idea?” 

 He just rolled his eyes. “Fine, c’mon,” 

 I pulled my hat out of my back pocket and put it on, pulling lower over my head than usual. I could blend in easier, I looked Akomish; Brent, though, definitely had more of the White genes, he wasn’t gonna disappear easily for anything. 

 We started down the hall, trying our best to look casual and probably absolutely failing. There were a lot more people meandering about now, whispering among themselves as they gossiped about what was going on. 

 The side patio area was at least abandoned, the sky dull and gray and releasing fresh flurries everywhere. “Now what, genius?” Brent demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He had a point; the Longhouse was on a jettisoned cliff side. There was no going around without heading to the front of the building. There was only a small lip of rock before it all fell off to the water below. We were trapped. 

 “I don’t—“ I cut off, cursing. What do we do? Chilling out out here was stupid, we couldn’t go back in. I walked up to the wooden railing that guarded the area from the cliffs, looking down at the waters. 

 The cliffedges weren’t straight, didn’t dive into the water like I thought; it had juts and lips, spaces in the rock that were perfect for climbing. And lucky for us, that was Dad’s favorite summer activity to take us on. 

 “We can climb,” I shot over my shoulder, already climbing over the wooden posts when Brent started his sounds of protest. 

 “Climb?” Brent shot over, looking over the edge. “What if we fall?” 

 “Dad said we have some kind of healing abilities, right?” I snorted. “You literally pushed a bullet out of your shoulder. We’ll be fine. Unless,” I motioned back. Two more unmarked vans were pulling into the parking lot of the Longhouse, people in suits and black trenchcoats storming out of them. “You wanna stay and talk to them.” 

 Brent groaned, looking back. “That’s a lot. Do you think they found something?” 

 “I’m not staying to find out.” 

 Brent looked back, between the wood fence and the black vans, making his choice with a simple bound over the wooden slats. 

 The first step of the climb is always the hardest; from there, you’ve just gotta find your next foothold. That’s what Dad always said. And it was especially true here, as Brent and I looked down at the rocky cliffside, the tide growing. Just had to take that first step. 

 Well, no, not step; there weren’t any steps here. We had to drop off the side, hang from the edge there and hope we didn’t plummet. Brent shadowed me, hanging on the side and looking for that foothold, that spot we could hang off of. I began to scoot along the lip, hands shuffling along the freezing cold rock, trying to get closer to the next bit of rock below, a perfect spot to lay my feet on. To jump down more, get close enough to shore. 

 This was a terrible idea; the rock was cold enough to hold on to the flurries of snow, and I discovered it was covering bits of ice as my fingertips pressed into the rock, my grip slipping. 

 I stifled a scream as well as I could, Brent not trying at all to silence his as he yelled, “Jean!”

 I swung, my back hitting the rocks as I clambered to steady myself on something. We weren’t that high, maybe 30 feet — but in that moment, I may as well have been in the stratosphere. I was so high. 

 The rough rock of the cliffside stabbed into my spine, and I cringed, gasping out. But I held on. With everything I could, I held on. “Are you okay?” Brent demanded. 

 “Y-yeah,” I huffed. “Yeah. There’s ice, be careful.” 

 Regaining composure, I managed to swing my body back around, brushing the snow off the rock and exposing the ice. It was scattered, just like in the water below, lying in wait to either melt or spread. 

 Finding a spot that was only cold rock, I resumed my scooting, making it to the foothold and settling, fingers barely touching the lip of the rock I was holding onto earlier, looking around for my next move.

 ‘Course, that was all thrown out the window when I heard Brent yelp behind me, and watched his hands slip on ice, then let go of the ledge. 

 I’d like to say I screamed. Tried to grab him, cried out, yelled NO! all loud or something. Really, though, I just watched. Watched my brother fall away from the cliff and down to the barely-wet dirt below, grappling at air as if it could save him. When people say tragedy happens in slow motion, they weren’t exaggerating; it was almost like I could see the panic flex every muscle individually in his face, watch his fingers curl slowly on nothing as they prepared to plummet into the ground. He fell farther and farther down, and I closed my eyes, waiting for some sickening splat. 

 But it never came. There was that squelch mud made when it was just a bit too wet, followed by silence until Brent went, “Huh.” 

 I opened my eyes and looked down — he was standing fine, knees apart and arms out like he had just landed a flip. Like he was worried about whether his feet would meet the ground, not that he had just freedived 30 feet. He looked down, around at the disturbed mud, and then up to me. “That…that didn’t hurt. Like, at all.” 

 To prove it, he stood straight, taking one step — and immediately slipped in the mud. 

 I snorted as he landed ass-first, all humor but also all relief. He was alive. He was okay enough to land ass first in the mud and immediately begin grumbling about how cold it was. He was okay. Brent was okay. 

 I shuffled down the cliffside as quick as I could as Brent stood back up, falling at wiping the gross mud off his pants. He stood straight hearing me land, making a weird guffaw sound as I slipped over to him and engulfed him in a hug. There’s been too many close calls. I was getting sick of it. 

 Brent hesitated a moment, eventually giving me a quick squeeze while saying, “C’mon, let’s get going,” 

 Nodding, I separated from him, following him as he lead the way down the slick and mucked shore. Being down here would do fuck-all for our hiding if we stayed in plain sight; we needed to get farther down the shoreline, away from the Longhouse and out of sight. 

 Easier said than done. It was a challenge to walk along the shore from how slick it was, and we weren’t at any good vantage points to climb up the cliffsides. We followed the curve of the cliffs, Brent in the lead and muttering, “Here, go here,” as he crouched slightly to fit under a rather large jettison of rock, the perfect coverage. I was able to follow him with no need to duck. 

 We stayed under that lip of stone, huddled close together and shivering in place as we waited. For what, exactly? Not like we’d know when the Feds would leave. But we couldn’t stay up there and wait. 

 Luckily, the alcove gave a bit of reprieve from the cold, at least shielding us from the snow and the wind it’d ride in on. We stayed there, huddled and unspeaking, for what felt like forever. 

 “Do you hear that?” Brent asked, teeth chattering. 

 “Hear what?” 

 But I listened out nonetheless, angling an ear towards the Puget Sound. Just the lapping of the rising high tide threatening to drown us, the wind — 

 And a beep. 

 It was steady, slow beeping, like a heart monitor on a patient going into arrest. But it grew in tempo slowly, it’s pace pulling in the sound of motors whirring away, like something was on the move. “What the hell is that?” I turned to Brent. He just shrugged. 

 The beeping grew louder, faster, zooming past for a moment and fading away before growing back just as fast. It seemed to do that quite more, the sound hovering back and forth like a close game of hot/cold until it seemed to lock on its target, its fast paced beeps staying. 

 A drone descended from the top lip of the rock, almost shaped like a dragonfly and glowing blue. It was all black, branded on the side with a white and blue eagle emblem, ‘HOMELAND SECURITY’ along its side in bold. The beeping, it was coming from that little thing, hollering louder as it floated at the entrance, invisible eyes trailed on us. It was looking for us. 

 And it won this round of hide and seek. 

 “What is — do we stop it?” Brent asked. 

 “How?” I demanded. Was it something the Feds were using to find us? If it had a camera, there was no use trying to run. It bobbed a bit closer, the blue hue radiating off of it so bright and blinding me, as well as its scream doing damage to my ears. It had to be something they were using to track us down. 

 I began to panic there; the guys, those Federal Agents, couldn’t have been far behind. “We need to leave,” I whispered, like the drone had ears. Might have, for all I knew. But the drone was blocking, quite literally, our only way out. 

 Suddenly, there was a shimmer in front of us in the air, a pixelated dagger appearing from nowhere and hurtling towards the drone, piercing it. The drone imploded on itself, motored wings breaking away from its body as it collapsed in the mud, beeping still. The blue, its core — that was what gave it energy. We had to kill that weird shiny battery. 

 I moved forward with the plan to simply chuck the bastard in the ocean and call it a day when the air…it was solid. Unmoving. Like there was some invisible wall. I stumbled back, mud squelching under me and making me slip, Brent only just catching me by the arms as the air I somehow ran into shimmered, iridescent, taking the form of a body before solidifying. 

 “Dad?” Brent asked, incredulous. 

 Dad ignored us, reaching his hand out to the drone, its blue pulsing and lifting like mist, rising to his open palm. It spun around his hand like the concrete did a day ago, sinking into his skin and blushing it teal for only a moment before the glow disappeared. The drone died off mid-beep, the sound tapering off like an orchestra that’s conductor randomly collapsed, finally falling silent. 

 Dad, still not acknowledging us, scooped up as many of the drones' remains as he could manage, standing straight and looking around at the bay of the Sound for something. Nodding, he suddenly zoomed away on wings made of glitches and pixels, dropping the drone guts on some spires of rock before flying back to us. 

 Wings. Actual fucking wings. “Dad, how did you—“ I started before he hushed me.

 He held out a hand in a silent beg for quiet, other hand holding a finger to his lips. Dad scanned the shore of the Sound, waiting anxiously. 

 Voices. That’s what he was warning us about — there were people, Feds, headed straight for us, probably following the scream of the drone. Their chatter was indistinguishable up until one exclaimed, “Son of a bitch!” 

 Another voice, chipper and feminine, began laughing. “Oh, that’s gonna come out of your paycheck,” she laughed. It sounded like they were above us. 

 “Fucking hate these drones, swear they never get it right,” the other voice, deep, complained. “Ran into a goddamn rock.” 

 “Well, maybe it had a visual on someone. We know the male youth was here, he left his jacket behind.” 

 Brent inhaled sharply behind me. His letterman jacket, we never even tried to hide the thing. 

 “We’ll need to patrol,” the man grumbled. “I’ll send Juarez back to try and get warrants to search the properties. Do you know if we have to bring that back in?” 

 “God I hope not, I’m not going in the water,” 

 The voices began to fade off again, debating on how to set up the perimeters and getting more people in for a search party before they disappeared in the wind. Dad stayed in front of us a while after, arms outstretched and poised for any strikes necessary, Brent and I knowing better than to make any noise before he gave us permission. Cautiously, I reached out, grabbing his upper arm and squeezing gently. 

 He seemed to blink out of his protective stupor just enough to bring a hand up to mine and squeeze back, giving the outside of the alcove one more look before turning to us. “You guys okay?” He asked, checking over us. He glanced unhappy at Brent’s mud-covered jeans, saying, “You’ll have to ride in the bed of the truck,” 

 “Oh, haha, Dad,” Brent mocked. 

 “Are we going somewhere?” I asked, my hand falling to my side. 

 Dad nodded. “We’ve gotta find a place to stay for now, at least until things die down at the Longhouse. We’re gonna go off the reservation for a bit until Betty calls me.” Motioning for us to follow him, he said, “C’mon. I got you two some clothes to change too.” 

 We parked it at a Zuckers, this giant gas station chain with a kitchen and a car shop, changing out of our mucky clothing and into fresh, warm sweaters and thick pants. Dad did me the courtesy of buying me a cute little brown leather jacket of my own, only two shades away from the color of my boots, a lilac knit and pale blue jeans. 

 They all still had price tags — he hadn’t gone back home. I wasn’t sure if we’d ever be able to, honestly; there were probably agents there too. Would it always be like this? Waiting for the next couch to crash on to become available, changing in musky smelling gas station bathrooms? Is this what life was now? 

 I raked through my hair with the brush I always kept in my backpack, pulling on my hat and walking out to sit with Brent and Dad in a booth near the kitchens. 

 Brent was now in clean, no-mud jeans and a black long sleeve, electing to keep Dad’s carhartt jacket on. He was destroying a pathetic looking pulled pork sandwich, Dad’s tacos going untouched. He looked about as upset as I felt. 

 But when he spotted me approaching, he wiped the discontent from his face, pushing a styrofoam lunch box to me and saying, “I just got you chicken strips and fries, Jeanie. Hope it doesn’t matter,” 

 It didn’t. I barely wanted to eat. 

 “Did you, uh,” I didn’t even know how to ask this, “Did you get everything situated?” 

 Dad, luckily, understood, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah I uh, had to call in a few favors, but it’s under control now.” 

 I nodded, opening the styrofoam container and poking around at the food inside. Brent sat beside me, finishing off his food with no hesitation, but I couldn’t find the same enthusiasm. There were too many questions floating around in my mind. “Dad,” I began, “What’s…what’s going on?” 

 He gently set down the soda he was sipping on, sighing deeply. Brent decided to stop being a glutton beside me, setting down the last bites of his sandwich and giving Dad all his attention, wiping away at the bbq sauce on the corner of his mouth. “Well, what do you want to know?” 

 Brent spoke before my mouth even opened. “Are you really him? Delsin Rowe?” 

 We both assumed it — the conversations, the powers. Betty outright called him so. But we needed to hear it from him. I needed to hear it from him. It didn’t feel fully real until he confirmed it. Like everyone maybe had a case of mistaken identity and this was all just a big misunderstanding. But life would be too easy if we could lean on that fact — especially when Dad hung his head over his food, defeated. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Why did you — who’s Damion Rowland?” I asked. 

 Dad breathed a laugh like he was trying to lighten the mood. “Well, also me. Legally, right now, I’m Damion Rowland. I was born Delsin Rowe.” 

 “So then, why the name change?” 

 The humor didn’t last long; Dad’s face overcasted like a storm on the sea, shadows of pain and guilt and regret. “I…it was to protect you two. All of us.” Standing abruptly, he closed the container his untouched food was in, saying, “Not here. Come on, I want to take you two somewhere.” 

 We topped off our drinks and hopped back in the truck, Dad not speaking the entire 40 minute drive as he sped away from any sign of civilization and to the woods of Washington state. He followed the road into a forest reserve, riding a scenic route all the way to an overpass before suddenly pulling off to the side, putting the truck in park. “Follow me,” he said simply, getting out of the truck. 

 Brent and I glanced at each other but, with how serious and silent Dad seemed, we knew better than to comment on it. We just followed Dad as he stepped through the thick snow, familiar with wherever it was he was taking us. 

 The trees thickened, basically plunging us into a nighttime darkness despite the fact that the sky was still a blush blue from the sun only just setting. But it didn’t affect Dad. He kept walking, over brush and under branch, leading us down a trail hidden in snow until it spit us out onto a clearing. 

 I gasped. The area was beautiful. You could tell it’d be a field of wildflowers when it was summer, but right now, the area was untouched snow, a blanket of cold comfort to lie in as you looked at the view. It was cliffside with an unobstructed view of the snow capped mountains, the sky clearing up post-snowfall and letting the actual Milky Way glint through, dozens upon dozens of stars and the moon lighting up the sky. Chapman had stars, sure, but not a sky like this. Is this what it was supposed to look like? Like a tear in the fabric of reality, stars from the universe running away through it? The snow soaked up any sounds, leaving us in a calm sort of serene silence as Brent and I stared skyward. 

 “This is where I proposed to your mom,” Dad began, kicking at the snow, pulling our attention from above. He was staring off at nowhere, concentrating only on his words. “Betty watched you two for me, and we spent the day out here, just…hiking. Being together. It’s hard to enjoy each other when you have two twin toddlers running you insane,” he laughed, the humor replaced by pensiveness. 

 There it was again. That timeline didn't add up with what we knew. There shouldn’t have been toddlers and Mom in the same sentence, we were newborns when she died. 

 Dad seemed to pick up on the confusion from Brent and I, the need for more answers. “We lived on the reservation ‘till you were 18 months old.” He began simply, looking off at the horizon. “You two, me. Your mom. In the old house my brother lived in, before he died.” He found a trunk to lean against, staying away in thought for a moment longer before saying. “We — your mom and I, we weren’t even a couple when she ended up pregnant. It was, like, 5 weeks after everything in Seattle that she called me and told me. So I did what any man should do, and had her move in with me, took care of her. It wasn’t hard to love your mom, though; she was a goddamn spitfire. We made it official after we found out we were having what the doctor thought were twin boys.” 

 Out of everything he said, that broke my absolve and made me say, “Wh-what? I was supposed to be a boy?” 

 “Always thought you looked too manly,” Brent joked, dodging my swing. 

 “Not my fault I have more balls than you,” 

 Dad laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not how it works, kids. Only one of you flashed the doc,” he looked pointedly at Brent, “So we had to assume. 

 “There’s something else you two need to know,” he sighed. “Your mother isn’t from — well, no, she is from Jersey, but we didn’t meet in college. She was a part of the Seattle uprising, too. Abigail Walker.” 

 Abigail Walker. That was the woman Conduit, she had revealed Brooke Augustine was training her to kill. She was…her and Delsin, and one other Conduit, they all took down the DUP Director together. That…she was our mom? 

 Brent looked as shocked as I felt, Dad reading the surprise on both of our faces and saying, “But anyways, it was after that, that we became a couple. Not like it mattered, we already made the biggest commitment out of them all, but…then you two were born, and it was strange. Felt right. Never even wanted kids before your mom called me, and here I was taking night duty all of a sudden.” 

 He fell silent there, biting the inside of his frostbitten cheek. “She didn’t die after you two were born. It was…the lie was easier to keep up with, if I just said that. Wouldn’t lead to more questions. But she did get sick. Having you two, it…I don’t know, it activated something in her, some kind of chronic illness. The doctors didn’t even believe us at first, just said it was postpartum and ‘it’ll get better’ and shit. So by the time they took us serious, you guys were a year old.

“She got weaker after having you two. The delivery itself went bad – there was an emergency c-section, a blood transfusion – but she…she never seemed to heal fully. Her powers weren’t as strong, but doctors don’t take that kind of complaint seriously, you know? They didn’t—“ 

 His voice cracked, and he stopped immediately. This looked so hard for him, I’ve never seen him so…small. The mention of Mom sagged his shoulders in, shrunk him down with the weight of such a heavy memory. Shakily inhaling, he tried again, saying, “We started looking into it after your guys’ birthday. Blood draws and tests and stuff. Didn’t really reveal much except there was a whole lot wrong. So we started treating it. 

 “She was weak. I stayed home to help with you two and Betty helped where she could, too. We took care of Abigail, and took care of you. She was having one of her good days when I brought her out here and proposed. I didn’t even have a ring, just kind of did it in the moment. And she said yes. But…” Dad’s voice, it cracked again, coming with a glistening tear that slipped down his cheek. “A week later…Betty couldn’t watch you two. I had to stay behind while she went to another doctor appointment.

 “Those Akurans, they were keeping track of us. Abbs had a bad history with them, and they weren’t fans of me either. Seattle, the Conduits’ release — it completely fucked their gang stuff they were doing. And there were the ex-DUPS too, Lifeline, a bunch of other people threatening us every damn day. They followed her and—and attacked her. She tried to protect herself but she didn’t have—“ 

 Dad’s voice tapered off, leaving us to fill in the gaps. She couldn’t save herself. They came in, probably guns blazing, and killed her. 

 The sight of him crying started my own tears, and they slipped silently down my face, mourning the truth and hurting for Dad. He never cried. I’ve never seen it from him. He was the guy who’d joke to make things lighter, who would always try to be the comedic relief. Seeing him cry, it shattered everything in me. Even Brent shared in the tears. 

 We stayed in that silence for what felt like forever, only sniffles breaking it. At least, until Dad said, “I couldn’t keep her safe. I didn’t…but I could keep you two alive. So I gave the government everything they asked for in exchange for a cover. Name changes, a house. And we left.” 

 Dad did all of that, so he wouldn’t lose anyone else. I knew his brother died when he was younger. And Betty told me about his parents dying from the Plague. To lose Mom on top of it…he lost so many people. I think I understood, now. 

 I’d do everything I could to keep him and Brent safe. Alive. We had so many close calls these past two days, that heart stopping fear that someone you loved was going to be snuffed out like a flame, that was a fear I didn’t wish on anyone. And yet Dad lived it. Again. And again. And again, and again. Four times over. Parents, brother, love. I couldn’t imagine how hard that was. 

 And for him to be the man he still was despite it all was a miracle. He was kind, compassionate, loving. Brent and I never wanted for a single thing aside from unnecessary gifts, and yet we’d still manage to find those things wrapped under the Christmas tree. Dad still found the want to be an advocate, and helped create COLE. He was a good man, despite how much happened to him. He still cared. About others, about us. 

 I was moving before I even realized, wading through the snow to get to his side and wrap my arms around him. I couldn’t find the strength to talk, but I hoped that every bit of my unsaid thanks, my apologies and condolences, were translated into the squeeze. 

 Dad wrapped his arms around me, one leaving after a moment to loop against Brent’s shoulders and pull him in, too. And we stayed there, looking off into the distance and silently crying, finding peace in each other after everything. 

There's the rest of the background and history! From here, I will be doing some more worldbuilding, and then

Oh, then it's time for the fun.

[foxtwink]

little rant about my bf & his frat

ask me to things, and i say no. the way you respond i can tell you're annoyed. no i'm not going clubbing with the frat, no i'm not coming to smoke. bail on the weekends, claim i'm busy on the weekdays. (most of the time, though, i don't need to. you're always too busy for me anyways.) every time you mention the frat i feel like i'm facing an opponent and i run the other way, terrified. and why shouldn't i? those are not my people, and you, my boyfriend, prioritize them over me. i'm okay with that (swallow down bitterness with the truth of it, the way we talked it over fall quarter), but how dare you get annoyed at me for not joining your lifestyle or not hanging out with your frat? all the shit i put up with from you, because your choice your life, yet you offer me none of the same compassion. "i need to get you into drugs," you said. why?

pretend pretend pretend you do not hurt me. pretend pretend pretend, as you put your arms around me kiss me say "i'm sorry" as you come back, your friends giggling because you fake-kissed the delivery person. "i didn't do anything!" you say, still laughing. and you and your many boyfriends. "i'm homiesexual." "jorge finished me off." "i'm going to make out with max tonight." i laugh, but at a certain point, the jokes get repetitive and annoying. and you seem to have no problem making them after fucking me. you seem to think that being straight gives you a pass every time you make gay jokes. i love you i love you i love you, we are sacred, words like poison spilling out of your mouth. you are unbelievable. "i'm sorry." no you're not. "it's just funny." to who? i watch paris cuddle with her boyfriend and feel a twinge of jealousy at how they team up, how he listens to her, how she whispers in his ear. we never do that.

i've given up asking you to magic or steel bridge. given up asking you, staring across the room at brody, texting darryl more than i want to, feeling more myself around jason than you, trying not to stare at the blue-haired boy in my calc class. i try not to wonder at how other people make more space and time for me than you. i think about breaking up with you more often than i think about dating you. i hate myself for it, hate you more, wake up sweating from a dream about cheating on you just for the sake of hurting you the way i'm hurting. the guilt washes away more quickly than the lingering desire for someone else. the way you hurt me, unintentionally, and will never know you do because i will never tell you. because selflessly, i will never make you choose me over anything. i'm not a pushover. i have boundaries. but i live with the consequences, including your irritability and frustration. you inspire my anger.

we are fine on the surface. we have no issues, right? no arguments. "communicate. please." i don't want to. "it's irrational"... you forget yourself. tell me that again, walking home alone late at night because someone you trusted was too inebriated, left you in the corner, got handsy with some girl upstairs. tell me that again, with 9 inches removed from your height and at half your strength. you should know all too well how men can change faces. everyone knows their frat bros like family until one of them rapes a girl. "we don't do that shit" and "he would never do that" and "i know him, that's just not him" comes out the mouth of every goddamn boy i've met. you think you're so different? god, for the person you are, you can still be so naïve sometimes.

have fun, is all i can tell you. stay safe. because i want you to come home to me, at the end of the day. because i love you, so much so that it takes over my body like the blood washing through my veins. and i can never stay mad at you, as much as i want to. i can never let go of you, even when i dream about it. i put up with it all- "you're going to have to come to the frat house to visit me this quarter" and "i want to see you even if we're just studying together." i could be hanging out with someone else. i'd probably be having more fun, doing something i actually enjoy. instead, i see you on your schedule and not mine. i do what you want to and am out of ideas when you ask me what i want, because i already know you don't have the patience for lying still on the grass next to me, staring at the sunset. i would do that with someone else. maybe i will. maybe i already have.

the point is, i have no problem doing what i enjoy with other people and not trying to drag you into it. but your disappointment and irritation at me when i ask you to do the same hurts. i already try, babe, can't you see that? i went to the party. i'm coming to visit you at the frat house if you want. i would be down to hang out with the frat if it was nearby, say hi to them when you talk to them in the dining hall. why are you still so frustrated at me? why do you ask more from me? when i am already trying my best, why is it not enough? i never ask more from you.

last night i wrote about wanting to spend my birthday in privacy with you. i wrote about how much i miss you and love spending time with you. i wrote about the second time we met up, how i got butterflies looking up into your eyes. but in daylight, analyzing your reaction as i decline yet another invitation, i'm starting to feel like maybe i want to spend my birthday with someone else. darryl, or jason, or somebody. someone who has asked me to hang out on my time and enjoys it. someone who could lay in the grass and stare at the sunset with me. someone who dances on street corners when i do, touches glowing lights like me, interacts with my shadow and takes interest in what i do. yes, someone like darryl and not you.

i don't know yet. i feel at the precipice of some breakthrough, and i refuse to make it yet because i want to enjoy the idea of you, stunning and perfect, a little bit longer. i told you that the guys i hang out with aren't threats to you. and i mean it. i don't feel anything like what i feel for you around them. but sometimes, they are the only people i feel like i can be anything close to myself around. sometimes, they are my only escape from you.

[heavenlymemoir]

Jodie Memories

I remembered the coma. How Stan got a job to help himself and the group; mainly because of Tuesday and Zoey, he wanted to help them. He didn’t want Zoey growing up under the bridge.

He visited me frequently. Every day. Told me about life. How Jimmy came clean and how Walter got over his alcoholism and went back to being a highschool teacher. He told me about his late wife Nancy, and all the stories they had. He shared memories of her, good and bad.

He…he cried. Almost every time he came in. I don’t know if it was the survivor's guilt or because he missed me. But he cried and held my hands, pleading for me to come back. He even brought Tuesday and Zoey in; Tuesday couldn’t stand to see me like this. She told me how Zoey was. That she had just started crawling and even said her first word the other day. She said that her first word was “mama”.

I don’t think I dreamt often. Near the end, right before I woke up, I saw some memories. Of mom. When she gave birth to me and they took me. I saw…well, what I think was Aiden. He didn’t have a body but I knew it was him by the tether.

Was it him showing me these memories? There’s no way that I could’ve remembered mom. I was just born. If he was, why? Why was he showing me them? I don’t know.

When Phillip and Susan left me in the facility, I wanted to get Phillip back for that day in the snow. But, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I still hated him, but I forgave him.

Hell, he was only scared. Scared of Aiden. And me. Scared people only do what their body tells them to do in order to survive. He was a religious dude, but I don’t think Susan was.

The reason why Aiden never harmed Susan is because she was nice to me. She never raised her voice or hurt me, she never laughed at me, and she helped me whenever I needed it.

Later in life, I reached out to them. She didn’t believe it was me at first but after some consoling, she started crying. Saying how scared she was for me and how she missed me so damn much. I was essentially her bio daughter, with the bond we made. I told her everything. Aiden. The CIA. The Infraworld. And she believed me. For once, someone didn’t doubt me and for once, someone genuinely was concerned about Aiden.

I dated both Jay and Cory.

When I blew up the Black Sun, I chose to stay on the ranch with Paul and his family.

While I was working outside one day, Cory asked if we could talk. Cory had always been friendly with me, and was very trusting and open. I agreed and told him we could talk while I tended the horses. He followed and basically admitted on the spot he liked me. I…I didn’t know how to speak. Didn’t know what to say. Apparently, Jay overheard that convo, and later that night, had a very heated discussion with Cory about ”oh you can’t like an outsider! what about our bloodline?! our ancestors would be pissed!”. I overheard that conversation. I mean, it was hard not to.

I sat them both down the next night (Paul had to go out of the ranch to go get some medicine for his back). I told them that I basically liked them both and didn’t want to hurt one by choosing the other, so why not date both of them? Cory was all for it but once again, Jay was a party-pooper. Man was so pressed about it, but calmed down after Cory glared at him.

It was hard to get used to Aiden not being with me often, but as the game went on to show, he still stuck around me without the tether. Jay and Cory were huge comforts during my time of not knowing where the hell Aiden was. And when he finally did the mirror shit, I broke down crying. Both of them rushed into my room and saw the mirror, and asked what was happening.

I explained everything to those two. Aiden. My twin. My parents both being gifted in paranormal areas. How the CIA recruited me to their special department. The shit I went through. Everything. And they didn’t call me crazy, they didn’t look at me weird, they understood. They fucking understood me. I was so glad they genuinely understood me and didn’t think I was crazy.

Cory was holding me while Jay was saying he was happy that Aiden is still here and I’ll be okay. Jay pieced it together that Aiden was the reason why that horse listened to me and joked around about me being the “animal whisperer” which made me start laughing.

Ryan got wind of where I was. He showed up to the ranch one day, and Paul answered the door. Ryan had asked, “Is a miss Jodie Holmes staying here perchance? I need to talk to her.” Paul called Jay over and they talked in Navajo for a few, then eventually Jay went to go get me and told me there’s a strange white man with brown hair looking for me.

I dropped my glass of water and luckily it didn’t break, and I quickly cleaned it up before I went to go see what the hell Ryan wanted. When I went out, Ryan’s face lit up. He exclaimed, “Jodie!! My god I thought you were dead. I couldn’t find anything on you; no records, no traces, nothing. I managed to find you because a damn trucker saw someone that matched your description riding a motorcycle, and I asked around the area more. I’m so glad you’re well.”

It took every damn ounce of my will and self-respect to not beat the shit out of the motherfucker. I looked at him and said, “what the fuck do you want. Make it quick, I have ranch animals I need to take care of.” He said that he wanted to apologize for what he did to me, and what the CIA put me through and that he’s no longer working with them. I scoffed, and went to go back to my room, ignoring his pleas.

I only stopped because he cried out my name. “Jodie please. Listen to me. May you move back with me? Stan and everyone is worried about you.” And that set me the fuck off. I yelled, “Don’t you fucking talk as if you know Stan and Tuesday like they’re your god damn fucking friends! Don’t you even fucking try to apologize to me, you worthless piece of good for nothing shitbag! Do you think that I’d just simply nod and let you apologize for walking on me and making me a god damn murder machine for this pathetic excuse of a government? And let’s not fucking forget the time that when we were in the plane, and I saw the news and you tried to blow me the fuck off. And also, what about the time we had a date at my apartment? Aiden did nothing to you and you still fucking acted like a god damn sleaze, only wanting me because I was a higher fucking rank than you! Get the fuck out. You’re not welcome here. Ever.”

I walked up to him, shoved him outside, and slammed the door in his face. Locked it. I sighed and leaned on the door while just trying to calm down; I couldn’t hear anything above the raging sound of my heartbeat in my ears. After a while, he left and I just slumped to the floor, purely exhausted. Jay and Paul helped me back to my room, and I talked with Jay for a bit. I calmed down and we went outside to tend to the ranch animals. Cory asked what the hell happened and I briefly explained while we were taking hay bales to each animal. I made sure to mention that Ryan is never welcome here again, and they all have permission to drive him off if he shows up again.

I was, I mean still am, agender and asexual. Due to what happens in the bar (Like Other Girls chapter; I won’t delve into what actually happens here), it made me nauseous to think of sex and me partaking in it. Jay and Cory understood and we did have occasional sex once in a while, but it wasn’t a “requirement” for the relationship to be healthy. They were both perfectly fine just having me there and helping around the ranch. They still used she/her with me and I never bothered to correct them because I was fine as long as it was them and them only using those pronouns with me.