#and she’d be proud of him even if he didn’t get a degree but

[xfgpng]

“𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲”

— : [nsfw] arranged marriage, loss of virginity, virginity kink, unprotected sex, praise kink + pet names

— wc : 4.8k

it’s an auspicious date for the ideal wedding. as ideal as a wedding can be for someone who wasn’t in the loop until a week ago. she had never dreamed of getting married, it was all too much for her but she knew her place.

her parents are far too secretive about everything and she’s only been told that the man she’ll be marrying is someone of high status.

she’s was not surprised in the least, considering her parents cared more for their status and money than they did about her wellbeing. she wonders what she would’ve done without saeko tanaka, a lovely maid servant her parents had hired when she was barely a teen and saeko had finished high school.

“dear, you know your place in society, don’t you?” her mother smiles but that smile has never reached the old woman’s eyes and it left her feeling uncomfortable.

she sometimes wondered if her parents would be more proud of her if she was a boy. she was smart and ambitious and had already graduated university with her degree but it was never enough for them.

greed was an ugly demon, always lurking close by.

“first we bow to the heavens and the earth, darling”

she woke up with a loud gasp. the air around her felt cold and damp despite it being much warmer these last few nights.

it sounded like something had whispered to her but she supposed anyone would be jumpy, preparing for a wedding they didn’t want to be apart of.

her friends were right, it was ridiculous to agree to marry someone she didn’t even know. they wouldn’t even tell her his name.

“the age of social media” her father rolled his eyes, “i don’t need you going around making a mockery of this family on that ridiculous x app you like to be on”

what about what she wanted? she knew that none of that mattered to her parents anyway so it was pointless arguing and running away would create bigger problems.

there was no way she’d be able to fall back asleep and she knew that if she tried to sneak down to saeko’s room, there was a chance she’d run into her father since he was always up in his study and she was too angry to talk to any of her parents.

“it was just a dream” saeko says, helping her prepare breakfast, “don’t read too much into it”

she did have a had habit of being a superstitious but for days she’d been having strange dreams and then she finds out she’s engaged? it felt like a warning of some sort.

“i just don’t understand why they can’t tell me anything about him” she groans, “what difference does it make? i’ll still have to marry him”

“maybe he’s a politician” saeko offers which doesn’t help ease the nerves at all. she never imagined being married to anyone that important, let alone a politician.

she wouldn’t put it past her parents though, since it would make them look good in the eyes of the public. attorney general’s daughter marrying into a prestigious family and she can only imagine the people flocking to her mothers design company.

she felt like a pawn to them.

“a red veil is compulsory dear, you know how important this is for your father and i” her mother sighs, “don’t make this difficult for yourself”

“what does he do?” she asks, “the man i’m supposed to marry”

“why does it matter?” her mother rolls her eyes, forcing her to stand upright as her measurements are being taken, “he’s very important and it won’t do us any good if you upset him”

“i feel like a doll” y/n frowns, “it’s too tight”

“you are a doll” her mother cups her cheek, “the prettiest of them all and you’ll be the perfect bride”

and the perfect sacrifice

“tonight, you’ll wear white” her mother instructs, “it’s important that you look your best”

“what’s wrong with what i have on?” she frowns

“don’t be silly” her mother scoffs, “i had the maids prepare your dress and shoes and saeko will help with your hair”

reaching into her bag, she produces a beautiful black box with gold phoenixes decorating it.

“a gift, from your betrothed” her smile is genuine this time and y/n knows it’s because she cares more about the expensive piece of jewellery.

the gold chain is thin and dainty and y/n can see the tiny center piece is the “grooms” family crest. she’s heard about these kinds of traditions and she doesn’t bother fighting when her mother insists on putting it on for her.

binding.

“how beautiful” her mother sighs but her eyes are on the center piece and once again, y/n feels like nothing more than a pawn.

she would never consider herself to be superficial, she knew real beauty was skin deep but she couldn’t help the small gasp when her walked into their large dining room.

he was so tall and pale, the moles on his face making his beautiful face stand out that much more. he didn’t smile and he didn’t seem interested in shaking hands with anyone, keeping a distance from her parents as his driver and assistant, stood nearby.

their eyes met a few times and y/n felt a cold shiver run down her back. his eyes were like two beautiful black holes, way too dangerous to keep looking or you’d surely get lost forever.

for a moment, it felt like the chain around her neck burned into her skin and she winced, looking back down at her hands in her lap.

“master wants to speak with you alone”

she looks up to see the man that had arrived with her .. fiancé.

“there’s no need to worry, i’m atsumu” atsumu smiles gently, “he’s in the garden”

she nods and follows him into the backyard. it’s the one place she can truly call her own since her parents never cared about it.

“there you are” kiyoomi says and his voice is rich and deep, causing a pleasant shiver to run down her spine. it’s different being this close to him and she’s a little surprised when he reaches for her hand and it’s cold to the touch.

“there’s no need to be so shy around me” he tells her, “we’re going to be married soon”

“… right” she says because she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. it helped that he was charming and he smelled like fresh lotus flowers.

“you’ll have a garden, just like this” kiyoomi says, “you take care of these flowers no?”

“i do” she smiles, “it’s my garden”

“you can plant whatever you want” he grins, “you’ll have all the free time to do everything you like”

as long as you never leave.

“iI think my mother would’ve loved you” kiyoomi says as he watches her pour him his tea, “she liked gardening too”

“oh.. i’m sorry” y/n says awkwardly

“it’s alright” he says, “it’s been years since i lost my parents, it’s an old wound”

does that mean he chose to marry her on his own? she didn’t understand what was going on. she also didn’t know how he even met her father and what exactly did he do for a living.

the next week felt like a blur, with having to get more measurements done, to having an official dinner as a family. they weren’t even married yet but the news spread fast that y/n, daughter of the attorney general, was finally going to be betrothed.

everyone in the city seemed to be excited for the grand wedding. smaller cities meant that everyone knew each other and she couldn’t even go out with friends without people congratulating her and some people looked as though they felt sorry for her.

an elderly lady at the café she frequented couldn’t even look at her without becoming teary eyed.

“i’m not going to stop coming here” y/n tries to make it lighthearted, “i’ve been coming here since high school”

“oh sweetheart” the elderly lady shook her head but before she could speak further, her husband pulled her away from their table.

“what was that about?” keiji asks

“it’s an old people thing” maki rolls his eyes, “don’t pay them any mind y/n”

y/n tried to ignore the uneasy feeling she felt for the rest of the day. it felt like the lady had more to say but her husband stopped her before she could say anything.

was kiyoomi really someone that well known? she had never really seen or heard of him before and that made her even more confused because the city wasn’t that big.

everyone knew everyone.

“there you are!” her father exclaims and she resists the urge to roll her eyes at him.

“kiyoomi thinks it’s important that you two get to know each other before the wedding” her father says and she can hear, in his tone, that there’s no room for arguments.

“will he come here?” she asks and her father shakes his head.

“he’s sending atsumu to pick you up tomorrow morning” he holds her hand, “you’ll spend some time with him so pack a bag”

she widens her eyes at that. her parents had always been strict about dating so why would they be so comfortable to let her stay at a man’s house she barely knew? a man she was engaged to.

“and keep the chain on at all times” he reminds her as she stands, “it’s important to him”

what about me?

“we’re very proud of you” her father says, “you’re very important to us”

she tries not to cry because that’s the first time he’s ever said that to her. she can’t even bring herself to hate him because after all, he was her father.

she wasn’t sure what she was expecting but his house is much bigger than hers and much more .. haunting. it must’ve been around in his family for many years despite being in perfect condition.

“come, atsumu will have them put your things in your room” kiyoomi takes her hand, “let me show you around”

“is this—”

“i told you” he pulls her into the huge garden in the back, “you can plant whatever you want here”

“it’s beautiful” y/n smiles, allowing herself to feel just a little bit happier. at least she’d be away from her parents for a few days.

“it’s yours” he tells her, “or rather, it will be”

and you’ll belong to me.

when keiji comes by the next day, he’s also shocked at how big the house is but it feels empty, almost like the walls whisper to you when you’re alone.

“the old lady was at the store earlier” keiji says, “she was so worried about you”

“about me?” y/n frowns, “what did she say?”

“she was talking so fast but she mentioned something about an old village nearby and sacrifices”

“oh” y/n laughs, “maybe she’s paranoid because i haven’t stopped by lately?”

“could be” he shrugs, looking around the large room y/n was staying in. “her husband told me to just ignore her so i didn’t say much else”

“ah, i see” y/n nods

she doesn’t mention the weird dreams she’s still having because she knows it’s because she’s just been overwhelmed lately and while saeko did go back home to fetch a few things, she knew she’d be back.

y/n still felt too nervous around kiyoomi even though he was putting in a lot of effort to make her feel comfortable.

“how is he?” keiji asks after a moment, “do you get along?”

“he’s great” y/n sighs, “almost too perfect, it doesn’t feel real”

“do you want to get to know him too?” he asks and she nods. she could admit that she was just a bit curious about him.

“i.. like talking to him” y/n says, “he listens and he’s patient because it’s obvious i’m still on edge”

“when is the wedding supposed to be?” keiji asks

“a week from now” y/n laughs bitterly, “my father picked the date”

“god he’s so—”

“don’t” y/n sighs, “it’s fine, i’m still getting used to the idea, that’s all”

“it’s still unfair” keiji sighs but he knows to back off.

a knock on the door startles them both and y/n feels that chill from before when kiyoomi opens the door to lean against the frame.

“you’re still here” he says and y/n nods.

“oh, this is keiji” y/n smiles, “keiji, this is kiyoomi”

“nice to meet you” keiji says and kiyoomi nods in acknowledgement.

she notices the mood change when keiji leaves. kiyoomi is already very quiet but it feels different that she feels the need to explain.

“he’s been my best friend since high school” y/n says, “he got married last year to his husband”

kiyoomi looks taken aback before he smiles again, standing to his full height.

“shall we have dinner?” he asks and she nods, smiling awkwardly.

was he already jealous?

“you’re the one i’ve been waiting for, you can never leave me. i’ve waited long enough for you to finally come to me and now that you’re here, i can never let you go.

sleep well, darling”

she wakes up gasping, sitting straight up in bed. the room is dimly lit since she had fallen asleep while reading.

she couldn’t really see anything or anyone in the recent dreams but it felt so real, like she was being pulled into the darkness just before she’d wake up, gasping for air.

“am i losing my mind?”

the conversation with keiji comes back to her and she can’t shake the feeling that something is going to happen. did people experience this before their weddings?

is this what cold feet was?

she shook her head and snuck downstairs to get a drink. she needed to clear her mind and reading was starting to make her overthink everything.

“can’t sleep?” atsumu asks. he’s sitting outside in the garden as she steps outside and she nods, holding her warm cup of tea close to her chest.

“is kiyoomi home?” she asks, sitting on the porch beside him. the garden was her favourite part of the entire place and she found herself playing with her chain as she stared out into the night.

“he’s in his study” atsumu smiles, “he’d love it if you joined him in there”

“wouldn’t i be disturbing his work?” she asks but atsumu chuckles.

“he has a personal library” atsumu adds, “master says he’s seen you reading a lot”

“ah yeah” y/n smiles, “i think i’ll go inside”

“goodnight” atsumu bids her farewell and she smiles.

that’s right, come to me darling.

she knocks gently and he calls for her to entire. she opens the door slowly and her eyes widen at how big his study is.

he looks beautiful even in the low light. glasses suit him and his smile made her feel warm inside. she didn’t feel so uneasy when he was around.

“oh, this is a pleasant surprise” he grins, “is something wrong?”

“i just couldn’t sleep” y/n admits, closing the door behind her, “am i interrupting?”

“of course not” he shakes his head immediately, “you can sit with me whenever you want darling, would you like a book to read?”

she smiles then and walks further into the study and towards the large bookcases.

“you’re more than welcome to come in here whenever you want” kiyoomi hands her a throw blanket as she makes herself comfortable on the couch. “after all, what’s mine is yours”

he watches her closely as her eyes begin to droop and he wants nothing more than to reach out and hold her but he knows he runs cold and it would be a while before she got used to his touch.

“so beautiful, even when you sleep” he sighs, “do you know how much i’ve wanted you?”

there have been others but none as beautiful as you are. i didn’t keep them either but their fates were already decided when the village elders sent out their names.

i can still hear the song of the brides as they were each carried on their sedans, brought into the cold forest and left there.

this way, is easier. i got to choose my bride and this time, i intend to keep you.

“what are your thoughts on having children?” kiyoomi asks. they’ve spent the morning sending out their wedding invitations and y/n would be going home until the wedding day.

“oh” y/n shrugs awkwardly, “i’ve never really thought about it and i’m not sure if i want to have any”

“i see” he smiles, “then we won’t have any if you don’t want to”

i would never have to share you with anyone ever again. you’ll only be with me.

y/n smiles up at him as he stands to get ready for work. he kisses the top of head, something he’s doing since the first morning they had breakfast together and she finds that she doesn’t mind.

she isn’t sure she wants to go back home but she knows she has to because it’s not appropriate for them to be so domestic before their actual wedding day.

“wait for me tonight and i’ll take you home” he says, “you can spend the day in the garden if you like or the study”

“thank you” she finds herself saying and he grins down at her.

“there’s no need to thank me” he cups her face gently, “i’m just happy to see you smiling”

she ignores the way that makes her feel, the butterflies in her stomach feel like a a tornado and she hates how disappointed she feels when he lets go and walks towards his study to get his work files.

you see it too, don’t you my love? you can’t be without me either.

“you don’t seem happy to be home” saeko grins, “do you miss the garden or kiyoomi?”

“oh, he’s no longer master?” y/n asks and saeko flicks her forehead.

“don’t try and change the subject” saeko says dryly, “do you miss him already?”

“.. maybe” she shrugs, reaching up to play with her chain, “it’s silly, i barely know him”

“does that matter?” saeko asks, “i haven’t seen you that happy and comfortable when you’re here”

y/n couldn’t argue with that. she felt free when she was with kiyoomi because he didn’t suffocate her and he was happy to just be in her presence without expecting anything in return.

“you’ll be with him forever after the wedding” saeko grins, “maybe you’ll have a child”

“he seems content to just have me” y/n looks down, suddenly feeling shy, “he said we don’t have to have any if i don’t want to”

“bare minimum but he’s a keeper” saeko says, “i’m excited for you now that you seem happier about the wedding and everything”

“i think he’ll make me happy” y/n smiles, “and i won’t have to see my parents as often”

good girl, you’ll only ever need me.

the room was cold, very cold and when she reached out to turn the lights on, it wouldn’t work. she could hear the faint sounds of a piano playing and the low humming of a man, a man that sounded so similar to kiyoomi that she couldn’t help but call out to him.

“kiyoomi?” she croaks out, her throat sore and scratchy. she couldn’t really recognise her surroundings but the scene before her caused her to scream and fall backwards.

there were people dressed in black, crying softly as the picture of kiyoomi sat in the middle of the room.

it was a funeral.

his funeral.

her screams are so loud that it wakes saeko up in the other room. she had stayed upstairs with y/n instead of heading into the servants quarters where the parents expected her to stay.

“y/n, wake up it’s just a dream” saeko gently shakes her shoulders, turning the bedside lamp on, “hey, it’s okay, you’re okay”

y/n can’t really think straight, still struggling to catch her breath as she wraps her arms tightly around saeko. she knows she shaking but she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to match her breathing with saeko’s.

“what was that?” saeko whispers, “you’ve never had nightmares before”

“i.. i don’t know” y/n chokes out, “it was just so cold”

“do you .. want to talk about it?” saeko asks gently, patting her head to help her relax.

“it was his funeral” y/n says softly, “like i could hear him humming softly but when i got closer to his study, the room changed and .. it was his funeral”

“it’s alright” saeko holds her tighter, “it was just a dream, he’s alright and so are you”

it just felt so real that y/n didn’t fall asleep again when saeko left. she said she’d be okay but she couldn’t get the image out her head no matter what she tried to do.

you see why you can’t leave me?

she doesn’t know why she tweets about it but everyone seems to think it’s normal and the amount of people praising sakusa makes her feel better. it was clear people knew who he was and he was obviously well liked.

it wasn’t like she was worried about any of that, she just didn’t like the dreams.

her phone ringing caused her to almost drop it.

“hello?” she says softly. she didn’t want to be too loud since it was way too early in the morning.

“darling, why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time?”

“i.. i wasn’t sure how to talk about it” she sighs, “it’s never happened before so i must really be nervous. i didn’t want anyone to worry”

“i’d worry about you anyway”

“could you maybe.. come see me later?” she asks, “i know the wedding is in 2 days but i want—”

“of course” he says, “i’ll be there in an hour”

“isn’t it too early? you have to work” she frowns, glancing at her bedside clock, it read 5:56 am.

“i’m never too busy for you, wait for me”

“okay” she smiles, already feeling better.

when she opens the door to find him standing there, her body moves before she can think about it and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down to hold him close.

“oh..” he grins, pulling her flush against him, “this is a lovely surprise”

“i just missed you” she mumbles but he still hears it loud and clear and he smiles, kissing the side of her head.

“i missed you too” he whispers, “do you want me to lay down with you?”

she nods. it was far too early to be awake and her parents would soon be getting up for their day and she didn’t want to see them right now.

closing the door quietly, she takes his hand and leads him up to her bedroom. the lamp is still on since the curtains are closed and the room feels cozy now that he’s with her.

he doesn’t wait for her to move closer, wrapping an arm around her, he pulls her against his chest.

“you could’ve slept like this with me at home” he chuckles, closing his eyes as he listens to her breathing.

“we only just met” she frowns, “i felt like this was overstepping but my dream really scared me”

“what happened?” he asks

“you were dead” she whispers, holding onto the back of his sweater tightly, “it was your funeral and there were people crying and everything felt so cold and scary that it was almost suffocating”

“look at me” he says and moves her back just a little. he cups the side of her face and forces her to look at him.

“kiyo—”

“i’m not going anywhere” he tells her, “it feels like i’ve waited lifetimes just to be with you”

she sniffs as wipes her eyes.

“i won’t ever leave your side” he promises, “you’ll never have to worry about anything or anyone ever again”

she nods and leans closer to him. she knows it’s wrong but she can’t help wanting to be closer and when he leans down to close the gap between them, she gasps into the kiss. his lips are soft and while his body runs cold, his kisses are so warm that she sighs and wraps her arms around him again.

“you won’t leave me, right?” he asks and she nods

“good girl” he smiles, kissing her again.

i have you now. you’ll always be mine, y/n.

she falls asleep to the sound of him humming softly. it’s comforting and she finds herself having the best sleep she’s had in months.

the morning of the wedding, she sat still as her mother fixed her hair. it was the only time she ever had her mother make such a fuss over her. she was grateful for saeko and kaori, it helped her not cry.

she didn’t want to ruin her makeup.

you’re just so beautiful, why wouldn’t i want to keep you forever? you’re the perfect sacrifice. i suppose i could grant this town a few blessings.

unless you told me not to. i would do anything for you.

kiyoomi could hardly keep his eyes off her as she stood in front of him. he could hardly focus on the bows or anything else as he watched her face through the pretty red veil.

she never needed makeup but her eyes were so much more prominent with the dark eyeliner. he could only think about finally making her his.

“beautiful” he whispers and he can see the way she smiles shyly. a smile only for him.

he could see her friends glancing at each other, trying to be discreet with their texting but there was nothing they could do now. he smirks as he makes eye contact with satori.

he must’ve always had his suspicions but after all, stories are just stories aren’t they?

saeko would do whatever she could to mark sure y/n was happy or he would just have to get rid of her.

no one would dare come between them or he would wipe the whole town out.

the bed was covered in a deep shade of red, matching her wedding dress. she sat patiently with her hands in her lap as she waited for him to join her.

she kept her veil down, knowing he had to remove it for her.

she was nervous but she knew she wanted to be with kiyoomi and it was clear he definitely wanted her just as much.

“lie down for me darling” he whispers, kissing her jaw as he slips the rest of his clothing off. she laid bare before him and he smirked, trailing his fingers up her thigh, stopping at her neck to squeeze gently.

“kiyoomi” she whispers, “please”

“i know” he tells her, “i just want to look at you”

i will never look at anyone the way i look at you.

he wanted to tell her everything, how he had seen her at that café she frequented. how he had set everything in motion for her greedy father and how it was just to easy to have them offer her up on a silver platter, all for him.

she gaps, grabbing onto his bicep as he slowly pushes into her. it hurt but she found herself moaning louder, wrapping her legs around his waist. she wanted all of him.

mine.. all mine..

he never cared for any of their offerings. he was almost 700 years old now and while he doesn’t remember much about the previous offerings, he knows he never cared as much as he does now.

you were so perfect and exactly what he wanted. before you, he had plans to get rid of the town that had conjured him up all those years ago for their own selfish desires.

“more omi, please” she begs, eyes tearing up when you feel him press deeper into you, his body so close that it almost felt like you were burning up.

he could give you that and so much more. he would give you everything you asked for.

“fuck, you feel so soft and warm” he whispers, gripping the back of your thigh and lifting it towards your chest.

like this he was even deeper, fucking you into the bed. your new bed that you’d spend your forever in.

“so good” she can’t help but cry out for him.

she’s never felt anything this intense before, he own fingers were nothing compared to the way he fucked her.

he knew exactly where to touch and where to kiss.

“tell me baby, who do you belong to?” he asks, gripping her jaw to force her to keep eye contact.

“you” she moans, “i’m all yours”

he believed her words to be true because he felt the way her pussy clenched tightly around his cock. a virgin, he grins down when he sees the tiny droplets of blood. it only made him harder, closing his eyes to keep his composure.

you have no idea.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day One: Long Distance Surprise @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3

Notes: drabbly and quick (poor edits), most of my energy went into different prompts, haha. But I wanted to write for as many as I could this year!

Warnings: none, ~1k words

.*.*.*.*.

Thinking of You

A chill clung to the air as Aelin stepped from the English Department building.  It was late and cold and all she wanted to do was go home and change into her pajamas and not have any type of responsibility until next week.  Unfortunately for her, she was in Grad School and taking a break didn’t exist in her routine functions. In fact, she probably wouldn't know what a break was until she was graduated with a degree in hand.

Adjusting the strap of her backpack, she took off for the other side of campus.�� If she kept a quick pace, she could be safe inside her apartment in under half an hour. She didn’t live too far from the school, something she’d insisted upon when moving to Adarlan.  While she refused student housing, she still wanted to be close for events, classes, and her internship.  Thankfully, she’d gotten all her wishes.  Well, all except one.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she fumbled for it.  She caught it on the third ring, pressing the screen to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Fireheart.” Rowan’s voice was a balm to her soul, washing over her with warmth and affection.

“Hi,” she said again, trying to fight off the emotion that burst in her chest just by hearing his voice.

“Are you back at your house yet?” Rowan asked.

He always called her around this time, knowing it was when she got out of her last workshop of the day and was leaving campus.  He always said it was a coincidence but Aelin suspected he didn’t like her walking alone and in silence.

“No, just left,” she sighed. “Things ran long.”

More words threatened to spill out, but Aelin bit them back.  It wasn’t worth bringing it all out now.  She ducked down a path that cut between the administration offices and south parking lot.  The path was lined with maple trees, their canopies hanging low with gold and yellow leaves.  It would only take another sudden drop in temperature before all the leaves would fall away leaving behind bare and empty branches.

“How was your day?” she asked, hoping to push any attention away from her. “Did you get funding for your project?”

Rowan, over a thousand miles away, had accepted a prestigious job at a museum in Terrasen.  With his degree in Ancient Slavic History and Languages, he was invaluable to his team.  He was working towards his own master’s degree with this internship. Which meant different schools.  It was remarkable what he’d been working on over the last few months.  And even though she missed him more and more each day they were apart, she as insanely proud of him.

“Yeah, I did,” he said.  Aelin could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re going to be able to work on a new display with access to those journals from Germany I was telling you about?”

Aelin couldn’t help her own smile as she listened to him talk about his project.  It always sparked warmth in her chest to hear him talk about his passions.  It was a comfort to, just hearing his voice.

They’d met on their first day of undergrad classes in a biology course.  Despite their names being on opposite ends of the alphabet, they’d been partnered together through the entire semester.  It had gone horribly from day one.  They hadn’t gotten along, in fact, all their lab assignments ended in an argument and a threat from the TA to flunk them both.  Why they weren’t separated, Aelin would never know, but she was grateful for in nonetheless. 

Somehow in the chaos of it all, they’d become friends.  And then more.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s gentle prodded broke her from her revere.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said.

She made it to the main road, streetlamps bright as day.  This side of campus was always well lit, even as it neared ten.

“You sure you’re alright, Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “I know the start of a new semester is hard.”

“Yeah,” she said again, “yeah, I’m fine.”

She tried to lighten her voice and stay upbeat, she didn’t want him to worry.  Rowan already had enough to worry about.

“Aelin.”  Rowan shifted on the other side of the phone and Aelin heard a door shut and what sounded like a beer opening. “I know you.”

Aelin blinked back the tears that started burning behind her eyes.  She would not cry.  She hurried through the courtyard of her apartment complex, cutting a direct line to her apartment.

“Hold on, I’m almost to my door,” she said.  She really just wanted a second to collect herself, especially while on the phone with Rowan.

“Good,” Rowan said, “there should be something waiting for you.”

“What?” 

His words didn’t register until she was hurrying up the stairs that led to her door.  As soon as she reached the landing she found a large box waiting on her welcoming mat.

“What did you do?” she asked.  She unlocked her door, pushing it open so she could toss her bag in. “Hang on, I need two hands.”

After dropping her phone on the couch, she returned back outside to grab the box.  She carried it to the kitchen before returning for her phone.

“Buzzard, what did you do?” Aelin pressed again.  She put the call on speaker so she could open the box a little less chaotically with a pair of scissors.

“I thought you could use a pick-me-up,” Rowan said.

The box wasn’t a simple little thing either.  Aelin started pulling things out—fuzzy socks, candles, bath salts, and chocolate.  So much chocolate.  In fact, most of the box was chocolate.

This time, Aelin couldn’t hold back the tears. Hot tracks rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the items now laid out across her counter.  It had been ages since anyone had done something like this for her since she’d felt loved.

“Ro—” she began.

“I wanted to come down myself but we got the approval—”

“Rowan,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she lifted the phone closer to her mouth. “I know.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the collar of her shirt.  Dealing with emotions had never been her strong suit.  It had taken nearly a year to tell Rowan she loved him for hells sake. 

“I know you won’t listen, but try not to eat all that chocolate tonight, yeah?” he said.

“Ha-ha,” Aelin mocked.  She rolled her eyes and cracked open the hazelnut truffles. “I make no promises.”

Rowan let out a laugh. “Hmm.  You going to tell me how your day really went?”

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

And it didn’t.  because now at least, she could talk to him.  She could listen to him ramble on about whatever new quirk he’d learned in his studies.  She could listen to his steady breathing.  She could simply spend a few minutes with him. 

It wasn’t until she was drifting off to sleep with the phone tucked between her ear and her pillow that they finally disconnected, Aelin whispering a soft I love you and Rowan promising to see her soon.

She hated this routine of theirs but soon…soon they’d be reunited.

[agirlsawalittlerose]

This is Me Trying

ModernAU!Aegon x OFC

Fresh out of rehab, Aegon Targaryen is looking for a way back into music when he meets Victoria, a talented but stubborn singer-songwriter who wants nothing to do with his family’s record label. Reluctantly thrown together, they form an unexpected creative partnership, finding common ground in music and shared struggles.

TW: Alcoholism, Addiction, Sexism

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 22: Rock'n'Roll Suicide

There was only one thing more unbearable than meetings with Jen, Emily, and the entire team—and that was when meetings also had the incredible appearance of Viserys Targaryen. With the added bonus that Vic still hated him for the situation he’d put her and Aegon in. His overly cheerful demeanor still gave her the creeps. And that was despite the endless conversations about the album, despite the hours spent arguing over marketing strategies long before this.

But the Stevie Nicks shows were getting closer, and—aside from still being bummed that she hadn’t gotten to meet her idol (even if she was quietly proud they were only one degree of separation apart now)—Vic was starting to freak the hell out. Because now, the meetings seemed to point to something way bigger than her. Now that the album was nearly done, and her “online presence” had taken form, today wasn’t just about music. It was a cold war���a group of men arguing about things that concerned her. Oldest story in the book.

Today’s hot topic was a damn interview with Vice—a magazine that hadn’t been interesting for at least a decade, maybe longer. But still, apparently, it was a good look: her face, her new bob, and the few lines they’d dedicate to introducing the album and, by extension, her appearance at Hyde Park this summer. Viserys Targaryen, however, was not on board with the plan.

“Absolutely not,” he’d said, his voice dipped in a level of exasperation Vic hadn’t even known he was capable of. He sat safe and smug behind his desk, ironically alone, while she, Aemond, and Allen—who was casually leaning against the wall, full of quiet confidence—stood opposite him.

“Vice is a big window,” Allen said, not missing a beat. “Vic should be front and center in that conversation. Their readers are exactly her demographic.”

Vic smiled dryly at the idea that he even knew what her demographic was.

But Viserys didn’t seem convinced. He actually scoffed, almost spitefully. Vic found it hard to believe these two even called themselves friends.

“You mean the same demographic that tore Aegon to pieces in print last year?” he shot back, voice sharp. “Let’s not pretend this is about exposure.”

A dig to Allen. One Vic didn’t fully understand—or maybe she did, and just didn’t want to give it weight.

“Also, according to who? You? Or the editor who’s been holding a grudge at me ever since I pulled her niece’s record contract two years ago?”

“Technically, you never signed it,” Aemond corrected him, with a kind of arrogance Vic found oddly out of place. Viserys noticed too, shooting him a look that promised a long-ass lecture later. He was about to say something when Aegon, unapologetic as ever, knocked at the office door.

Viserys let out yet another sigh, while Allen raised an eyebrow at the interruption.

But Vic couldn’t give less of a fuck. She’d let these walking testosterone clouds wedge themselves between her and Aegon for too long, and today she just wasn’t in the mood to let them win again.

She stood up without a word, not bothering to glance behind her, and opened the door.  

Aegon greeted her with a smile before scanning the room, clearly unimpressed by the tension clinging to the air.

“What happened?” Viserys asked, as if bracing for his son’s next disaster.

“Relax, for fuck’s sake. Nothing happened,” Aegon replied, with zero interest in losing their quiet, private war. “We have plans later,” he added casually, as Vic took her seat again. He stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder in a small show of support.  

Aemond let out a dry scoff from the chair next to her—something Vic noticed had not gone unnoticed by Allen.

“Vice is a tastemaker, whether you like it or not,” Allen resumed, shrugging like that was the end of it.

“It’s exposure. And exposure matters,” Aemond added, more emboldened now.  

Vic noticed how his perfect posture lined up neatly with the confidence in his voice.  

She also noticed no one was asking what she thought.

“You want to keep pushing this indie-messiah narrative like it won’t backfire into a trainwreck interview and make me lose a lot of money?” Viserys snapped at his son, and Vic felt a stab of anger hearing how this asshole really saw her.

Not surprising he didn’t give a damn about what she had to say—or her music.  

Well, maybe he should’ve thought twice before getting involved in this whole mess for whatever thirty-year pissing contest he was having with Allen.  

Fucking idiot.

“She needs to have coverage because she’s a good investment,” Aemond replied, remarkably unfazed by his father’s venom.

Vic shifted slightly in her seat, her face unreadable.  

Allen caught it, and leaned forward toward her.

“That’s exactly it. Call it an indie-messiah narrative, fine—but Vice is great exposure,” he pressed, beginning one of his signature pacing sprees until he reached her chair.  

“You remember what we talked about, Vic? The theory—recognizability. Hair, voice, angle, songs, where your face lands—it all plays.”

Vic felt her throat tighten, in the same strange way she’d felt Aegon’s hand grip her shoulder.  

It wasn’t comforting anymore.

“You mean branding,” she said quietly, with a small smile.

“I mean mythology,” Allen replied a bit dramatically, leaning in, eyes gleaming like he was proud she’d finally gotten it.

She felt Aegon’s gaze on her, careful.  

She wondered if he’d seen it too—that flicker of pride in her eyes, the way she clung to Allen’s words just a little too long.  

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“You want mythology? Let’s wait until we’ve actually sold an album, shall we?” Viserys snapped again, lashing another blow straight into Vic’s gut.  

Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole.

“What we’re building here—it doesn’t work if no one hears about it,” Allen said sharply, finally breaking eye contact with Vic to square off with Viserys.

“You mean what you’re building. You always did love chasing shiny things,” Viserys shot back.

“And you always did love being right more than being relevant,” Allen snapped, and Vic was floored by how much raw energy was still pulsing between these two washed-up old men locked in a never-ending dick-measuring contest.

“It’s not the ’80s anymore, Dad,” Aemond chimed in suddenly, smirking the second everyone’s eyes landed on him.  

“I’ll talk to the editor at Vice. Maybe he doesn’t even remember who you are—or what you did to his niece,” he added, finally drawing the line in the sand and showing exactly where the power had shifted inside the Targaryen family.

Viserys was alone. Cornered. His face was flushed red, and Vic couldn’t help but notice a vein pulsing at the base of his neck.  

She’d never seen him this furious.  

Actually, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone this furious.

Allen dismissed himself without ceremony. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled: the Vice interview was happening.

Another classic Allen move. Vic had started noticing more and more that sharpness of his—how precise his mind was. Sharp enough this time to get even Aemond to stand up to his father. She’d also noticed something else: how Allen wasn’t even remotely intimidated by Viserys basically owning her music. Unlike her. She could still feel the heat of Viserys’ rage simmering in the room, like a bomb ticking down to detonation.

So when Allen turned back to her and gently brushed her hair like she was a child, Vic let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Look, no pressure,” he said, low and steady. “But you walk into that room, own it, tell your story—people will remember. You’ve got it, Vic. You just have to let them see it.”

“Right. Let them see it,” she repeated under her breath.

“What is it, exactly?” Aegon cut in suddenly, removing his hand from Vic’s shoulder and leaning on the armrest instead—his posture mirroring the challenging glare he was now aiming squarely at Allen.

Vic blinked, momentarily thrown. Allen, of course, wasn’t.

“The myth, Aegon. You weren’t paying attention,” Allen replied smoothly, unbothered.

To Vic, it didn’t sound cruel. But she saw Aegon’s whole body tense up anyway, every muscle going rigid—and that confirmed it.

His jaw clenched.

“Right,” he muttered through his teeth, laced with sarcasm.

*****

Allen’s voice still echoed in the back of his skull—“Come on, we’ve earned lunch, haven’t we?”—but all Aemond had done was nod, offering nothing more than a blink and the slow stretch of his jaw. His brother had already stepped into the hallway, Victoria trailing after like a weight unhooked, Allen her leash and her savior all at once.

And Aemond had stood frozen, statue-still in the chair.

Because he’d seen it coming the second their father turned toward him.

“Stay,” Viserys said.

Just that. No anger in his voice yet. Just command—cool and sharp, like the snap of piano wire.

The door shut behind them.  

Silence fell.

Aemond didn’t move, except to straighten his spine further, as though posture alone could stop the coming storm.

Viserys didn’t speak right away. He walked back to his desk instead, slow, deliberate. Each step a countdown.  

And Aemond hated how familiar it felt. Like standing outside the principal’s office, or waiting for a verdict that always came with the same bitter taste.

“Tell me something,” Viserys finally said, turning on his heel. His face was unreadable—but the vein at his temple was still there, pulsing like a loaded gun.  

“Was this your idea?”

Aemond didn’t answer right away. He picked a spot just over his father’s shoulder and stared at it, like neutrality could pass for innocence.

“Was it,” Viserys said again, and this time the tone landed.

Aemond’s jaw clicked.  

He forced a breath in. Measured it. Released it.

“She deserves a platform,” he said. “And Vice is—”

“Don’t insult me.”

The words hit harder than expected. Flat, unshaken, but laced with something hotter underneath.

“You went behind my back. Again.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” Viserys took a step forward. “Don’t lie. Don’t play semantics. Not after I warned you.”

Aemond stared at him, heat rising in the back of his throat.  

“Why does this threaten you so much?” he asked. “You act like Victoria doing a five-minute press hit is going to ruin—”

“This isn’t about Dawson,” Viserys snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. “It’s about you. Undermining me. You spent months breaking my balls to sign this damned girl, scheming behind my back with my own team, forcing me to sideline your brother—and now you’re taking liberties with outsiders we have no relationship with? People just waiting for an excuse to drag this label through the mud?”

Aemond’s lips parted, but he had nothing.

Viserys didn’t stop.

“You think you’re smarter than me. You think because you sit in a few board meetings and clean up your brother’s messes, you’ve earned the right to steer this ship.”  

He pointed a finger now. “But you haven’t. You’ve coasted. You’ve performed. And you still don’t understand the difference between the illusion of power and the cost of it.”

No. No, that wasn’t true.

He’d studied every number, reviewed every contract, sat in meetings no one else had time for. He’d cleaned up disasters without complaint, without thanks. He had bled for this label.

Aemond felt something split—quietly, inside his chest.

It had always been this way. His competence seen as arrogance. His precision mistaken for ambition.  

He worked harder than anyone. Smarter, too, most days.  

And yet—he was never trusted. Never the golden child.  

Just the one who was expected to keep everything from falling apart, only to be punished when he tried.

“This label—” he began, low.

“—Is mine,” Viserys finished. “Not yours. Not Allen’s. And you clearly need reminding.”

Aemond felt the shift before the words even landed. It moved in Viserys’ eyes, a flicker of resolve that carried the weight of decades.  

“You’re fired.”

The world went still.

Aemond blinked once. Twice.  

There was no dramatic gasp. No flash of rage. Just nothing. A white, endless silence in his mind, like the shock of stepping outside into snow barefoot.

“You’re not serious,” he said, voice even.

“I’m dead serious,” Viserys replied, with a kind of cruel calm. “As of now, your contract with the label is terminated. You can have legal review the paperwork tomorrow. And I expect your keycard back by the end of the day.”

It hit him then.  

Not the words.  

The finality.  

Like he was watching his life shut behind a steel door.

“Why?” he said quietly, eyes narrowing. “Because I don’t roll over? Because I don’t want to fade into whatever pathetic idea of legacy you’re trying to salvage?”

“Because I’m done cleaning up your version of control,” Viserys hissed. “This place was never about your ego. And I’m not going to let you drive it off a cliff for the sake of proving a point.”

Aemond stood, slowly.  

His hands were steady. His eyes weren’t.

“This place is my life,” he said. “And you know it.”

Viserys didn’t respond. He turned away instead, already half-dismissing him.

“Get out,” he said.

Aemond didn’t move for a full five seconds.

Then he stepped back.  

Then another.  

And finally turned, walking out without another word.

He didn’t slam the door. Didn’t yell. Didn’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing him break.

But when he hit the hallway—when the air changed and the distance grew—he felt it:  

That hollow rush in his lungs.  

The weightless, awful silence of a future he hadn’t planned for.

He had no plan B.

No version of himself that existed outside those office walls.

And for the first time ever, Aemond didn’t know what to do next.

*****

She was glowing. Practically levitating.

The shitty pub lighting did nothing to dampen it—if anything, the flickering bulbs made her buzz harder, all sparkle and teeth and eyes sharp enough to carve through glass.

Vic was so happy she could’ve floated right off her barstool and into the fucking ceiling.

“I mean, I knew it was going to happen, of course I was going to meet her, but actually getting invited to a party thrown by Stevie Nicks?” she started, practically vibrating, gesturing wildly with both hands, recalling the conversation they had with Allen at lunch.

Aegon looked at her, beaming. Damn Vic Dawson and the way seeing her happy gave him that weird twisty feeling in the pit of his stomach he’d been forced to admit was called emotion.

“Yeah, no doubt fangirling will totally win her respect,” he teased, just to see her crinkle her nose in that overly offended way she did when she was pretending not to be delighted.

Vic threw a coaster at him. “Don’t ruin this for me, Aegon.”

Aegon caught it midair, grinning despite himself.

“Hey! Stating a fact.”

He looked at her—hair messy in that intentional way, rings flashing, eyeliner slightly smudged like she’d just stumbled out of a backstage photo from the ‘70s.

He could see the kid she used to be. The one who sang into a hairbrush and cried to Silver Springs.

And yeah, it made his chest ache a little. But in a good way.

“What do you even wear to a Stevie Nicks house party?” he asked, sipping his beer.

Vic raised her pint like a prize. “Guts.”

He laughed. “That’s not an outfit.”

“It is if you wear it right,” she said, then took a long sip—too long, actually. He watched her drain nearly half her drink without blinking.

He frowned. Not enough to show. Just filed it away.

She was on her second already. Maybe third. He couldn’t remember. And maybe that wouldn’t be weird if she’d touched the chips he’d ordered twenty minutes ago. But she hadn’t. And now she was slurring the slightest bit when she said “Nicks.”

“So what, we show up and it’s like a coven meeting?” he asked, nudging her. “Do we bring crystals? Sacrifice a drummer?”

Vic rolled her eyes. “You are such a hater.”

“I’m not hating. I’m preparing. Mentally. Emotionally.”

“For what?”

“For watching you fall madly in love with a 76-year-old woman and leave me for her Malibu guesthouse.”

“I could never ever leave you! You could be out there… serving drinks or something,” she joked, her eyes half-lidded from the beer.

“Might work,” he replied, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

She grinned at that, but there was something else behind the smile. Something quieter.

She was chewing on something inside, and he could feel it—knew her too well not to.

“Hey,” he said, touching her knee under the table. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” she said, too fast. Too automatic.

He tilted his head. “You sure?”

Vic leaned back against the wooden booth, stretching like a cat, then gave him a look. “I’m about to hang out with the most legendary woman alive and you’re asking if I’m okay?”

“Yeah,” Aegon said, slowly. “Because I know what it looks like when you’re riding the high, and I know what it looks like when you’re white-knuckling it.”

That landed. Just for a second.

Her smile slipped—barely—but enough.

Then came the deflection: “Christ, you’ve been hanging around Allen too much. That sounded suspiciously like emotional intelligence.”

There it was.

And just like that, Allen was in the room again.

Not literally. But enough to twist something in Aegon’s chest.

He took a breath. Careful.

“Speaking of Allen,” he said casually. Too casually.

Vic glanced at him sideways, but didn’t respond.

He tried again. “You’ve been kind of… synced up with him lately, haven’t you?”

She arched a brow. “Synced up?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” she said, raising her pint again. “Spell it out for me.”

“I mean,” he said, tone a little sharper now, “you quote him more than your own lyrics. And it’s getting harder to tell whose voice you’re listening to when you talk about the album.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Vic set her glass down harder than necessary. The clink echoed between them.

“Wow,” she said, leaning in. “Didn’t realize you were keeping score.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I just know you. And I want to make sure you’re doing okay. You look… tired lately.”

‘Using drinking as a palliative more than usual’ was his exact thought, but it definitely wasn’t the right time to hit her that hard.

She took another gulp from her pint and shrugged. “Well I am tired. That’s why I’m grateful Allen’s doing the hard work with all the ‘branding’ stuff I don’t know shit about.”

Aegon watched her fix her bangs, and yeah—if there’d been any doubt—that was her tell. She was worried. Uncomfortable. Maybe both.

“You mean like cutting your hair?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Vic blinked, her expression turning softer, sadder.

“I thought you liked my new hair,” she said, a little whiny, fingers brushing the part of her neck that was now always exposed.

“I’d like you even if you were a bug, princess,” he said gently, kissing her forehead and luckily she smiled at him.

“I feel like Allen believes in me,” she said. “And obviously he pushes me, but that’s a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Aegon said quietly. “I noticed.”

Boy, had he noticed. Give a girl with daddy issues a semi-authority figure who showers her with praise for five minutes and watch what happens.

Aegon wondered if Allen had noticed it too. If he was just a manipulative asshole, or if he actually believed his own bullshit about branding and myth and bobs and Vice.

They stared at each other. The gig behind them swelled, someone launching into a distorted riff, the crowd whooping in approval. But they weren’t really listening.

Vic was the first to break.

“Don’t do this,” she said softly. “Don’t make me feel bad for trusting people in an industry I didn’t grow up in.”

Aegon sighed. Rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m not trying to. I’m really not. I just…” He trailed off. “…Think the way he’s all over you is a bit shady?”

“Well, he is a manager,” she said, still missing the point.

“Is he a good one though? I’ve never had one…” he replied, trying to nudge her toward it.

Vic looked down suddenly, as if hit with a wave of guilt or shame, though Aegon couldn’t tell exactly what for.

“Well Stevie Nicks trusts him. Do you think she’s an idiot?” she said, trying to lighten the mood, finally grabbing a chip from the plate.

“No, but he…” Aegon muttered under his breath, and Vic nudged him with a mischievous smile.

“‘The way he’s all over you,’” she echoed, clearly taking the piss. “My hot boyfriend is jealous of a 65-year-old man,” she added, giggling.

Aegon stared at her in exaggerated fake shock, absolutely floored she’d said something that ridiculous. She had to be wasted if she thought that was the issue.

“AS IF, Victoria,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Don’t call me by my full name!” she laughed, snuggling into his chest to soften him up.

And just like that, the tension popped like a balloon.

They settled into a gentler silence. Her knee still pressed against his. His fingers brushing her wrist when she wasn’t looking.

Damn Vic Dawson and how exhausting it was to care about someone’s wellbeing.

Fuck her.

[zoyazenik]

emily’s endless list of ocs ✨ ↳ ana martinez, eat your young 🫀 ↳ ( in•sp )

Ana Martinez does not survive in the end. 

She does not live to see her mother again, to play another game of soccer, or win another debate competition. She does not grow old, she doesn’t get married, she doesn’t see her older brother find peace. All she does is wither and rot, as all things do. 

But Ana Martinez is not all dead, not fully. She lives on in the memories of the survivors, of those that got to see the plane that saved them. She haunts them, they see her in their periphery, in the gentle laugh of a girl, the breeze in autumn, the biting chill of a winter’s night. Because Ana Martinez is dead, but she is the reason they all survived.

Seventeen, almost eighteen, Ana was almost out of New Jersey, and she was going to go out with a Bang! She’d been the team’s Left-Winger since she’d graduated from JV when she was freshly fifteen, and despite being the Coach’s daughter, nobody could deny her being one of the strongest players on the team. She was a shoo-in for a full-ride scholarship to the University of North Carolina, she was going to be a star player and get a business degree while doing it. But first they had to win at Nationals.

Ana liked to believe that what happened next was the consequence of three things.

1. Taissa Turner breaking Ally’s leg, tearing it apart, right down to the bone.

Ana knew it was a bad idea, she’d argued against it, when Tai had proposed the idea to the small group of players. She’d stood strong beside her fellow Winger, Natalie Scatorccio, pleaded for them to see sense. But Tai was headstrong, and she wanted to win, and that wasn’t going to happen if Ally was on the field with them.

Ana figured she didn’t fight enough.

2. The Yellowjackets being prideful, arrogant, and sometimes, downright mean.

It wasn’t their fault, any of them. Ana and the rest of the team, they were just kids - teenage girls, most of which hadn’t even hit eighteen yet. Teenage girls are mean, they tear at your throat with words of poison, and teeth filed to sharp points – they pick you apart piece by piece, they consume your very being until they spit you back up, a perfect mold of themselves.

Each of the Yellowjackets had a vice, something that made them imperfect, something that made them wrong. 

Ana wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she liked girls or the fact that she liked to throw eggs at the houses of kids who pissed her off that made her wrong. 

She just knew that she was.

3. Ana Martinez telling her father she hated him.

Sure, Mr. Martinez wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t a particularly good father, he was harsh and stern and cared all too much about soccer than he did about his children, but he was still her father. He worked harder than anyone she’d ever known, he made sure that she had whatever she needed, and when she was hurt – emotionally, physically, whatever it may be – he made sure to pat her on the head and slip a plate of sopapillas under her bedroom door.

And the truth was that Ana loved her father, more than anything else in the world – even if he hadn’t told her he loved her in two years, even if he frowned more than he smiled. But he had upset her, in the way that only he could. Instead of congratulating her for their big win, for saying how excited he was for them to go to nationals, for telling her he was proud of her, he had critiqued her. 

Ana had never been good at receiving critique from her father, but this time, when she’d been coming down from such a high, she simply couldn’t handle it, which is why she’d yelled.

So, this was why Ana believed they’d crashed, why they had to do what they had to do, endure what they endured. Ana believed that the reason she died was because no matter how hard she worked to help everyone, to make sure the team stayed together and stayed alive, it didn’t matter, because at her core, Ana Martinez was a girl, and she was twisted, wrong. 

This is why she didn’t make it.

taglist 🦋: @dragonsbone, @kiara-carrera, @fleetwoodmcs, @dio-nysvs @purpleyearning, @villanele, @daisyjohvson, @arrthurpendragon, @aaudace, @julianblackthcrns, @richitozier, @megdonnellys, @anotherunreadblog, @prosemoireia, @luucypevensie, @chlobenet, @eddysocs, @phoebestarks, @stareyedplanet, @waterloou, @raith-way, @jvstjewels, @eddiemunscns, @impales, @darkwolf76, @fakedatings, @daughter-of-melpomene

[want to be added or removed?]

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 6

Joel Miller series Female reader insert

A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Took a (suuuuper) long hiatus - but I'm back!

Taglist (Since it's been so long, if anyone doesn't want to be tagged anymore pls let me know!): @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean @mezmerwrites @babypeapoddd @ay0nha @tpwkstiles @one-sweet-gubler @coolninjavoid @ameliabs-world @superflymaterial @p-muffin @s1xthirty @flightlexsbird @nataliemdixon @krisviciousx @notsosecretspy @freerangesweets @partyofone3413 @angelfxll @bojana-aa04

Word count: 1,662 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: graphic descriptions of gore, reader getting shot, cursing

Joel watched y/n as she methodically cut away the scales and took out the innards of the six fresh trout she’d caught for dinner. Her hands were red and raw from the ice cold water, but she moved with a confidence and dexterity that impressed Joel, against himself.

It had been three days since Joel had begrudgingly agreed to trust Ellie and let this stranger lead them deeper into the woods. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since. Joel vacillated between irritation, mistrust, and antipathy towards her. Ellie seemed more inclined towards pity. She’d attempted to speak to y/n on several occasions, but was never met with anything more than a contemptuous stare. The silent treatment was grating on his already haggard nerves. Between her self-indulgent petulance and the near-constant throbbing of his stitches, Joel was ready to snap. And tonight was as good as any for a fight, he thought darkly. 

“How long do you mean not to talk to us?” he demanded. Although she didn’t look up from her task, Joel didn’t miss the way her movements got sharper when he spoke. He was under her skin. Good, he thought. If I can bother her, I can break her.

“You’re not the only person who’s lost someone, you know.” Joel pressed forward. Ellie had stopped tending to the fire in favor of shooting him warning glances. Joel knew that Ellie saw y/n as their only shot at surviving in this wintry wasteland. She wasn’t wrong, of course. But Joel Miller was too proud to let anyone - especially y/n - lord that over him. 

“It’s pretty fucking pathetic, actually,” he went on, adding a little extra acid to his words. “Sounds like you didn’t even try and save your family that you apparently gave such a big shit about.”

Joel didn’t even see the knife leave her hand, didn’t see it streak through the air or bury itself in his foot. In fact, Joel found himself regarding the knife curiously for a heartbeat before his brain even registered pain. In that heartbeat, y/n had risen from her crouched position on the side of the icy mountain stream and was striding over towards him, murder in her eyes. 

“Jesus Christ, y/n, no!” Ellie was small compared to y/n - scrappy and tenacious, but too small. She flung herself impotently into y/n’s path, but y/n shoved her aside easily. 

“What the fuck did you say to me, you motherfucker!” Y/n’s scream was hoarse, like she’d been yelling for hours on end. In spite of himself, Joel laughed. At least she’s talking, he thought with glum satisfaction as he felt hot blood pooling in his boot from where her knife had sunk into his arch. The fire in her eyes blazed all the harder, and she threw herself down on top of Joel. Her hands closed around his throat like a vice, ice cold and deathly strong. Joel struck out with his fists, aiming for the sides of her head. He landed three heavy blows, and with each one her grip strength waned a bit. With the fourth slam, Joel felt her hands completely slack off his throat as she pitched sideways. Ellie had regained her footing and had climbed on y/n’s back, shrieking like a banshee as she tore at y/n’s hair, neck and shoulders. As if in slow motion, Joel watched as y/n turned 180 degrees and threw herself backwards against the ground, slamming Ellie’s back on the frozen earth. Ellie let out an ugly, strangled grunt, her eyes widening in pain and shock. Her arms went slack around y/n’s shoulders as she gasped silently, trying to force air back into her lungs.

Everything froze in suspended motion. Joel saw y/n’s expression soften as she surfaced from her rage-fueled outburst. She stared down at Ellie with a look of disbelief and horror as the girl writhed in the snow, her hands clawing futilely at her throat. Her face was turning a deep shade of crimson as she continued to fight for breath. 

“Fuck, no no no no no.” Y/n was kneeling next to Ellie, hands visibly shaking as they covered her mouth in horror. Joel’s mind felt like it ground to a halt, the satisfaction he’d felt moments before at successfully breaking y/n out of her reverie vanishing into smoke. Without thinking, Joel reached for the gun in his waistband, leveling it at y/n’s chest and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot ripped open the woods. It was still echoing off the trees when y/n collapsed on the ground and Ellie sucked in a greedy, gasping breath…

******

“Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, you killed her.” Your mind was fraying at the seams. The moments around you weren’t making sense. You couldn’t find the thread that tied them all together. 

You felt a blazing, fiery pain in your chest. It spread up one side of your neck, down one of your arms, and radiated throughout your torso. Each inhale and exhale made it worse, agony searing through your veins like wildfire.

Hands on you. Small hands on your cheeks. Warm hands. Your cheeks felt cold, your face felt cold. Clammy. 

Then, there were bigger hands. Meaty hands, pressing down on that fire-blasted hole in your chest. You shrieked at the pain, but you were surprised to find your voice choked and drowning. You gurgled in pain, begging. “Please please please please.”

“It’s alright, y/n, we’re here.” A young voice. Girl. Your eyes slipped in and out of focus.

Treetops, high above you. Dark, bare branches against a slate-gray sky. Snowflakes.

“She’s losing too much blood, Ellie. It’s no good.”

“We’ll fucking die out here, Joel!”

More pain, more pressure on your chest. The pain was white hot, but somehow fading at the edges. Like you were pulling away from it. 

“I can’t unfuck this, Ellie!”

“You fucking KILLED her!”

Your veins weren’t burning anymore. They were freezing. Ice in your body. Running through your arms, your neck, your eyes, your legs. Tiny, shallow breaths. In and out of your nose. The sky above you beginning to darken. 

“She almost killed you-”

“Joel, if she fucking dies out here so do we!”

Quiet. Three sets of breathing. Two ragged and deep with rage. One - yours - panting. 

“Christ…”

A face above you. Dark eyes, salt and pepper hair. You recognized it.

“Y/n?! Can you hear me?” 

Your vision began to drift. You couldn’t keep your eyes focused on the face. 

Footsteps. Moving away from you. 

“What are you doing?”

Silence.

“Ellie, goddamnit, wha-”

“She’s bleeding out. We need to cauterize the wound.”

“The bullet’s still in there.”

More quiet. Darkness pulling in over you like a curtain. Your lips felt cold.

“If you cauterize the wound with the bu-”

“You got any fucking better ideas?!”

Inhale. Quiet. 

******

Joel’s heart made a sickening twist in his chest as he watched y/n’s eyes loll back in her head. The dark stains of blood on face and neck contrasted garishly with the whitish-blue tint of her skin. Joel had seen plenty of people die, and more than a few of those had died by his hands. But y/n was going down hard. Stubborn bitch, he thought to himself with nauseous guilt. Can’t even die easy. 

Behind him, Ellie rose from the campfire, striding over with a frying pan. For a moment, Joel didn’t comprehend what she was doing. He just stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Pull her jacket back for fuck’s sake!” 

“A frying pan, Ellie, are you serious?” 

“It’s the only thing that’s hot enough, just fucking do it!” Joel’s hands shook as he lifted his hands off y/n’s bullet wound, a fresh torrent of blood seeping out without the pressure of his body weight to staunch the opening. That’s a good sign, he thought idly as his hands ripped back the layers of dirty clothing to reveal y/n’s bare, bloody chest. Heart hasn’t stopped pumping yet.

Ellie hesitated only momentarily, her face turning green before she laid the sidewall of the frying pan against y/n’s wound with a gut-wrenching sizzle. Joel swallowed down a wave of vomit as the horrid smell of burning flesh ripped through his nostrils. Y/n stirred only slightly at first, but after a moment her eyes popped open and she convulsed, letting out a weak wail of confused pain. Joel was quick enough to grab her hands before they reflexively batted away the hot frying pan. She mewled in protest, eyes rolling aimlessly, not seeing anything. 

“That’s enough, Ellie.” Ellie pulled the frying pan off, tossing it aside and bending over to empty the contents of her stomach on the snow. Y/n went slack under him, and Joel felt himself come down from the adrenaline high with a vicious crash. His breathing was heavy, chest heaving with each inhale. He hung his head, weak with dying fury and bone-crushing guilt. Ellie crumpled into a seat on the snow beside him. 

Joel didn’t know how long the three of them stayed there in that clearing. Y/n was unconscious, but alive. The barely-there rise and fall of her blood-coated chest confirmed that much. How she’d survived, Joel had no idea. He could only guess that the bullet had missed the lungs and the heart by mere millimeters. Maybe, with all the tussling she’d been doing with Ellie, she’d moved just enough to throw off his aim. Try as he might to deny it, Joel had been aiming to kill. Acting on reflex. Protecting Ellie.

Or maybe he’d flinched at the last moment. Maybe, even though his reflexes said kill, some part of him said save. Because one thing became clear as day to Joel Miller as he sat in that bloody snowbank, twilight sinking over the frozen forest:

If y/n died, Joel Miller would never get over it.

**more chapters coming soon! let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged) if you like this series, check out my Last of Us masterlist for other works

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

All That Happened

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OC

Gwen Brooks was paying for school by dancing at the club, and one night, Daryl Dixon found himself there trying to keep his brother in line. When her car won't start, the two find out they might just be the company the other needs.

“You got a lighter?”

Daryl turned to look at the little blonde dancer his brother had been harassing standing beside him with an unlit cigarette between her lips. She looked so young and so tired as she took the offered plastic bic.

“Thanks,” she murmured, lighting up and leaning back against the wall. The thick jacket was wrapped around her frame, and he thought she looked much less content with being here than her coworkers did.

“You ain’t cold?”

“Am. But ain’t out here long.”

“Sorry ‘bout my brother.”

“He ain’t the only creep.”

“Still.”

“Thanks,” she finally said after a long pause. “You don’t seem like ya like being here.”

“Don’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Merle. Make him act better.”

“That’s better?”

“You new?” She nodded. “Don’t go near him.”

“You tellin’ me what to do now? I work here.”

“He don’t go to the back rooms and he don’t tip good. You ain’t got tracks. That’s what he tips with.”

“Oh.”

“Name’s Daryl.”

“Gwen.”

“Thought it was Ruby.” Gwen almost thought he was smirking as he ground the cigarette butt into the asphalt.

“Don’t tell.” She was smiling up at him now, and he suddenly realized she was definitely half of his age.

“Won’t tell.”

“See you in there?”

“Til Merle’s ready to go.” She nodded, and he went back into the club, dropping into the seat at Merle’s table. He already regretted coming back in, and when he saw Gwen on the floor, Daryl looked away. She thought that would bother her more, but he avoided looking at most of the dancers anywhere but the eyes. Merle was still there when her shift ended, and Gwen changed into jeans and an old flannel when the time came to go to her car.

When she tried to start the car, it didn’t, and immediately panic set in. She tried again and again, her hands coming down on the steering wheel again and again when she realized it wouldn’t start. It was the last straw of a long day. Her final in her science class hadn’t gone well that day, and then the way Daryl’s brother had cornered her earlier had shaken her. She hadn’t been working at the strip club long, and she’d been sheltered from the worst of the creeps. Alice had been gone that night, and that gave time for Merle to catch her in a corner. All she wanted was to go home and rest. It didn’t help that this would be her first Christmas without her family.

Her father was a pastor, and a parishioner had come into the club and told him how she was playing for school now. He was already not happy she was in school at all. She’d been raised in a loving but traditional family. Instead of being proud she was getting a degree, her father was disappointed she wasn’t more focused on starting a family and settling down. To him, a degree was a waste because she wouldn’t be looking for jobs. And now that he knew about the club, he didn’t even speak to her. The car refusing to start was the final straw, and she started to cry, hard heaving sobs that made her forget the window was still cracked.

“This cause of Merle?” asked a gruff voice from outside her window. She didn’t answer, but she did look towards him and started trying to breathe and calm herself. Daryl wasn’t good at this. Any of it. He didn’t like talking to strangers or risking making women feel uncomfortable, but she was so obviously hurting. Daryl knew what it was like to have everything go wrong in a day, and he didn’t know if she had anyone. He knew even better what it was like to feel everything was going wrong and not have anyone to tell. “I’m gonna open this door, okay?”

He opened the car door, kneeling. Wasn’t that what you did to make people feel more comfortable? He was careful to not box her in. She could push him over, and he thought that should be good. Should make her feel safe. He hoped he was right. Gwen was taking deep practiced breaths now.

“That’s it, girl. Breathe.”

“Sorry,” she managed to choke out.

“Ain’t got shit to be sorry for.” She was embarrassed, looking at the edge of her door and worrying her lip with her teeth. “Car ain’t startin’?”

“That’s the latest.”

“Good thing ‘m a mechanic. Try and start it.” It just clicked, and he nodded before reaching by her leg and popping the hood. She stared where she knew he was as though she could see him through the open hood. He came back around and dropped down again.

“How bad is it, doc?” He huffed what she decided to believe was a laugh.

“Wiring probably just ain’t good on the starter. Coolant hose might be bad and have dripped into it. Can fix either one. Got one of these out back at the shop I can the part from.”

“How much that gonna run me?”

“Labor’s free. Part’s free. Tow’s gonna be free.”

“That’s so much,” Gwen said softly. “You ain’t gotta do that. I can figure something out.”

“No. It’s free. You pay me and next time ‘m here, you’ll get it back.”

“Can I make ya banana bread?” That huff was definitely a laugh.

“Y’can make me banana bread. Merle left. You need a ride home?”

“I can walk. You ain’t-” He lifted a brow, and she turned pink. “I need a ride.”

“Atta girl. C’mon.”

She got her bags out of the car, loading them into his truck. Her keychain had a Georgia State University logo, and the little drawstring bag that had her cash from the night was one of those bags people gave away for free. He couldn’t read well, but elementary stood out under the same logo. Was she going to be a teacher?

“Thanks, Daryl,” she said softly.

“Ain’t a problem. My guy’s gonna tow it in the mornin’. I’ll call ya when I know what’s happening. Come get y’when it’s ready.”

It was quiet as they drove, and when they parked outside her house, she wrote down her number, handing it to him with her address. Daryl froze when she hugged him before getting out of the car.

“I’ll see you when it’s ready. Thanks for bein’ my hero tonight.” He huffed and she swore his cheeks turned pink.

“Ain’t an asshole. All that happened.”

[overplannedbutunnamednpc]

Kool Kezzie, MD

They got their medical license off of a TikTok scam, but their PhD actually IS real! So are their many honorary degrees!

Anyway! So this is another character playlist (I genuinely don't make many of these. Clap for me.)

Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1lXAtHsgY0zHjjEKZDBCZy?si=d446fa024fb540c6

Explanations below:

Noel's Lament by Ride the Cyclone Cast

For I sing songs until the break of dawn I embrace a new man every night My life's one never ending carnival A world of boozy-floozy flashing light I want to be that fucked up girl

A strong opener for Kezzie! When Kez first started adventuring, he was already a little fucked up. Adventurer life meant freedom, sure, but Kez was NOT a wilting flower back at home. They genuinely wanted a life where they could be the kind of person they wanted to be without getting judgement for it. Say what you want about the goal itself, but Kez had one, and she was FULLY into the idea of being that fucked up girl for a while. Adventure gave him the opportunity to do it, in addition to all the other things it gave him.

Hot Mess by Cobra Starship

You were a problem child Been grounded your whole life So now you running wild Playing with them good girls No, that ain't your style You think you're hot shit Ooh I love it, I love it

This one’s not all too deep. Actually, most of these songs aren’t, for the next couple! Kez is a hot mess! They love it! She’s found people who love it, too—or at least don’t mind it that much. This is a song for going out to the club with your friends or accepting that bottle from the villager you just saved and enjoying all that life has to offer you even if it does make you a hot mess.

Waking Up In Vegas by Katy Perry

Shut up and put your money where your mouth is That's what you get for waking up in Vegas Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now That's what you get for waking up in Vegas

Also not too deep. Maybe a LITTLE more focused on the consequences, but still ultimately having fun with it. It also has the benefit of being sung to someone else—come one, get up, face the consequences with me! You had fun, and there’s fun to be had in the hangover, too! Did we get hitched last night? Let’s find out! This is Kez still a little drunk but mostly hungover pulling one of her friends out of the hotel bed they’d crashed in, WAY too much energy for how early it is and how late it was when they collapsed, flitting around and finding last night’s clothes for a proud walk of shame and find the rest of the Call. Maybe they’re just in the next rooms over! Maybe they’re across the city! We’ll see! Didn’t you want adventure?

LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco

You got two black eyes from loving too hard And a black car that matches your blackest soul I wouldn't change ya, oh-oh Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no-o Oh the neon coast was your sign And the Midwest wind with Pisces rising Wouldn't change ya, oh-oh Wouldn't ever try to make you leave, no-o

This one marks the end of the rose colored glasses songs. They’re not very deep, they’re very happy and poppy, they’re very flashing lights and big grins and drugs from darling strangers. Kez is—what’s that?—happy! Her ass wasn’t working through anything with adventuring. Arguably, they were running away, but what they wanted was right there in that first song. He was happy being a fucked up girl. She was adventuring because she was staying by the side of the people she’d decided to love, and because it was right and she could help, and not because she had a specific personal goal. So these songs—this one included—are perky and all about the party and the consequences, because to Kez there wasn’t anything else and didn’t need to be. And no one would be trying to make them change or leave!

Last Party by MIKA

If you could look into the future, would ya? If you could see it, would you even want to? I've got a feeling that there's bad news coming But I don't want to find it out If it's the end of the world, let's party Like it's the end of the world, let's party

Aha. Okay so. Remember the whole, no one would try to make Kez change or leave? Retirement didn’t exactly sneak up on him. She’s got a +10(?) to insight and 24 Int (don’t worry players about why Kez has specific stats). There was a scare when they first rescued Callie that, because Callie and Arthur were SO into each other, Callie would ask Arthur to stay home with her and he would agree. But he didn’t stay, Callie went with them, and Kez could relax. THEN those two got HITCHED! Which. Was fine. There was a scare right at the end of the night where— where we were trying to all get together so we could get a picture post-reception, and we couldn’t find Thorn at first (that’s fine, she’ll turn up) and then once she did Callie was pulled away by one of the nobles (understandable, she’ll extricate herself politely in a minute), and then Arthur had to go talk to Callie’s father (well, who could blame him for not wanting to stiff the man?) and then Kez had to throw up in the bushes SO quick and Break followed them out to make sure they were okay, and— the carriage came, and the happy couple had to go, and— there was never a photo of all of them together at the end of the happiest day of two of their lives. Which was fine! They came back from the honeymoon and there was a break and they started trying to have a BABY and—Arthur, you do realize Callie won’t be able to come with us if she’s pregnant or has an infant, right, when this whole god fight is over with—oh, you’re? Settling down after the god fight? Oh! Okay. Okay!—well, it’s. Well, it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine. Who knows how far into the future that is!

Straight Ahead by Dom Fera

When she saw the movie all about her life Well she noticed some things they didn’t get quite right Cause they added mistakes and cut her best damn nights Everybody who knew it sent a goddamn text “Did you tell them to do it so it makes more sense?”

This song and everything following is for post-retirement Kez. Specifically, it’s for the couple of years post-adventure when the world was in a frenzy for their newest heroes, the ones that had stopped gods from destroying the planar system itself. What heroics! What happiness! What tragedy! And Kez, right in the middle of it—signing off on merchandising rights, smiling for the cameras, setting up interviews, and, of course, going to the premieres of the shows about their adventures. Watching and laughing at themself Ember Island Players style hardly ever gets old. The selected lyrics really Get me for Kez, too—did you tell them to add shitty stuff you didn’t do so the story would make more sense? Kez is more than happy to be flattened into a tabloid picture, and the further the stories get from the truth the less they risk hurting to hear, but I imagine that, uh, would hurt coming from people—you make more sense when you’re portrayed worse.

Feel Bad by A Story Told

I wanna wake up at noon and not feel bad about it Like I did back when we only slept three hours When all of my friends were in one place When all of my dreams were of your face I wanna make out for days and not feel bad about it Like a wasted year drawn out by business hours When all of my friends were in one place When all of my dreams were of your face

Now we’re solidly into post retirement Kez. They want their friends back in one place! They want to do all this shit again and not be ruining their life for it! Just because everyone else involved moved on/left doesn’t mean Kez has to, or wants to, or even quite knows how to. There’s something so Kez to me about a song like this, where literally the idea behind it is “I want to feel good and have the things I used to have without having to feel bad about it.”

Beer by Reel Big Fish

She called me late last night, to say she loved me so But I guess she changed her mind Well I should have known, it wouldn't be all right But I can't live without her So I won't even try... And if I get drunk well, I'll pass out On the floor now baby You won't bother me no more

However. Never mind that last song. Check this out: you don’t have to deal with all that shit if you’re passed out or ignoring it with substances!!!! That, kids, is what is known as a LIFE HACK. This song has the BONUS of being about someone else, too—someone who left, perhaps, someone who calls and then doesn’t show up? Someone who changed their mind about loving Kez? Hm. That person could be anyone. But they don’t know Kez knows this one easy trick: it’s called liver failure and it’s awesome and everyone likes it.

Popstar by New Hollow

Your attention Give me attention I need attention I can't remember (When I had a thought of my own) I can't remember (The day I sold my soul) So I'll do just what I'm told And I'll call it rock 'n' roll Well I can't remember (The last time that I've smiled) That wasn't for a camera

This one is another for Kezzie’s fame. Kez LOVES attention and fame! One of their big things is not being forgotten for all the things they did—and their friends, too! This song is for grinning in all the tabloid photos no matter what they’ve caught you doing, because it means Kez is still alive, up to something, on everyone’s lips. What’s that? The undercurrent of the song is about how when every aspect of your personal life is advertised even your privacy starts seeming like something you need to perform in? You can’t quite trust your own smile because you’re unthinkingly checking the angle when you do? Aha. Huh?

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody by Gloria West and the Gents

A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got Islands, diamonds, trips around the world Don't mean a thing if I ain't your girl

The OG song is bad and this cover has real trumpets which makes the whole thing better imo. This one is a what it says on the tin type song! This song is for the clubs and the house parties and the—other. Places. (Morgan is not the type to go out to many parties. This may be obvious in the fact that I am currently writing an explanation post on my dungeons and dragons blog about an oc playlist.) What could go wrong? A little party has never killed anyone at all! And Kez especially will live forever!

Euphoria by Motopony

Euphoria, Euphoria, you come at such a price Every time I get a hold of you, I know I roll the dice How far can I go from my pain before it takes my life? Perhaps in death, Euphoria, you'll be forever mine Oooo, I wanna feel good too

To quote Alex: hey btw. fuck you for putting a little party never killed nobody Right before euphoria

Which. Yeah. So this one’s a very solid interlude song. Euphoria is such a slow and pretty song. I’d say it sticks out in this particular playlist! The idea behind this is:

Kez is. Well. Kez has made a lot of mistakes, certainly, but I think if he had to pin down just one as The Worst, he’d absolutely go for this one. The consequences for the other mistakes were at least mostly only consequences for Kez. But she’s a good uncle. They were, up until this. He literally scared his Teddy bear. Which CANNOT stand.

Euphoria is a standing/living on knife’s edge song that cut other people—Kez’s nephew, the one person Kez had a chance to never hurt—way worse than it cut Kez themself. Euphoria’s a wake up song. Euphoria is a hard U-turn song. Euphoria is the anything but that again song.

I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers

So now I'm standing on the overpass screaming at the cars "Hey, I wanna get better!" I didn't know I was lonely 'til I saw your face I wanna get better, better, better, better I wanna get better I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change I wanna get better, better, better, better I wanna get better

Okay NEVER MIND ALL THAT. Listen to this happy song!!!

Euphoria’s the realization that something needs to change, and I Wanna Get Better is the determination to fucking do something about it. No, that will never happen again. No, Teddy should never have to take care of her again. No, this is Kez’s life now, until it’s a life they want it to be. He wants to get better! She wants to make the people who love her proud!

Carry On (We'll Be Here When You Get Back) by Polite Fiction

You can pretend that you know it all The world - condensed, a volume on your shelf But you know, when push comes shove You'll be on your knees and crawling back How lonely it must be, sitting at the top The city lights beneath you, a temporary stop On your way to riches, fame and all the things we're not Conjure all the friends you like, 'cause they don't mean a lot

This isn’t ACTUALLY a song from other peoples’ perspectives about Kez. But it’s not NOT that. The thing about getting healthy is that in order to do so you have to confront the stuff that makes you unhealthy. And girl there’s a lot. One of those things, for sure, is that little nagging voice in your head that says that you’ve fucked everyone’s life up just by being in it. Day’s gone, Break’s gone, Thorn’s moving on, and of course Callie and Arthur have their son and lives and you’ve fucked that up too. And this song is about those people still being there when you’re back, but you’re coming back on your knees, you’re coming back because you fucked up, bad, and they know that. Everything you’ve realized, they’ve thought for years, they’ve been keeping score, you’ve been racking up strikes and haven’t even quite realized—and yes, they’re still here anyway, but it’s still deeply humbling and humiliating to have to crawl back.

Into the Wild - EP Version by LP

Oh please believe me I'm more scared than not That, whoa, this isn't the way And please be there I can barely hang on Whoa, oh, oh, I wait 'til I break Hey, eh, eh, eh… Somebody left the gate open You know we got lost on the way Come save us a runaway train gone insane How do we, how do we not fade?

Now that Kez is better, they have to confront the rest of the world, too. Despite getting better, he still wants to keep some things—the attention, for one, and the fame and wealth that comes with it. The inability to let go of the past that motivates all that isn’t gone just because Kez has put a name to it, and the willingness to let it go isn’t there either. So now the question is, how to go back to Kool Kezzie while keeping everything she’s worked for? The answer: very carefully. Very frightened. Though not from the outside.

Fluorescent Adolescent by Arctic Monkeys

You used to get it in your fishnets Now you only get it in your night dress Discarded all the naughty nights for niceness Landed in a very common crisis Everything's in order in a black hole Nothing seems as pretty as the past though That Bloody Mary's lacking in Tabasco Remember when you used to be a rascal? Oh the boy's a slag The best you ever had The best you ever had is just a memory

Kez has never claimed to be perfect or even close. But Kez is, now, careful. Kez has a tight grip on the parts of her life that need attention and monitoring. It may make them feel a little lamer, it might mean they decline the third and fourth party invites of the night, it might remind them more about the things they’ve lost and the person they used to be, but their ass is NOT slipping up.

Nights by Neon Trees

Now I'm misusing my body Now I'm lyin' all the time I keep sayin' that I'm alright But I miss you in my life I can get by the days just fine But the nights I sit alone and wonder why They say that boys don't cry 'Cause all these tears and songs about you Won't bring back the best days of our lives

This song’s all about the stuff Kez has realized he’s missing. She’s alright, she’s content, her days are good! Their nights though. Dark and lonely is the kind of night you REALLY have to watch out for—and, again, just because Kez knows he’s missing it doesn’t mean it will ever come back, and he’s not helping it along by keeping it shuffling along in biographies and merch contracts. Still, she’s at least looking at that head-on. Still, they’re getting through the days absolutely fine. (And there’s symbolism here about the nights being hard partially because of Day. But I’m not the symbolism guy so idk.)

Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

If heaven's grief brings hell's rain Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (I know I'm bad news) For just one yesterday (I saved it all for you) I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way Still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

I’m gonna call this a healing song. Of a sort. At a certain point of wanting, it just kind of sits down and makes itself at home. Kez acknowledged it, allowed for it, and felt it all, and then had to keep living his life. We’re transitioning from downer songs (that don’t quite sound like downers) to something a little more driving. There’s a little anger in this one, too, if I can point it out! “Now I’m here to give you all my love so I can watch your face as I take it all away” being sung in a voice that isn’t the main singer’s? It’s not quite a fair song! It’s not just a missing-it song! This one has a sense that some of it was, maybe, taken!

VIP by Manic Drive

No ticket price, name's on guest list tonight Just flash your pass and walk through all the waiting lines Selected and you're destined for the spotlight Chosen and free, you're born to be Get up, like you're one in a million Get up, like a diamond, you're brilliant Get up, oh, don't stop believing You're a star tonight

Kez, back in business. Never! Mind! All! That! They are STAYING! SILLY! Once she’s gotten used to the wanting, she’s allowed to get back to the fun! And it is! It always has been! As long as Kez is careful—and they are, always always—it’s back to Kool Kezzie right and proper.

Déjà Vu by 3OH!3

Hey mister bartender, mix me a drink I really need something to tell me it's okay not to think Because I've been to all these bars and I've seen all these places I've hit on all these girls, I've heard the same conversations Cab driver, cab driver, take me away 'Cause I already know all the words that she'll say And I'll be creeping out the window at the first sight of day 'Cause every single night it seems to go the same way

It’s not bad here having fun, but it can get a little formulaic. Kez is a bit at the top of the world, a bit at the top of his game, and has stayed there for quite a while. Best wizard in the world and all. Name on a lot of Sunyth’s lips. No big. Still, everyone gets bored sometimes! Kez maybe faster than most! New people and places help! And this is still a FUN song. It’s just self-aware, too, about the every night of it.

Carry Me Home by The Ready Set

"I've got a lot on my mind and Got you a drink if you'd like to go Baby let's roll, can I come home?" Then she said: "Shut up, don't you speak You do this to me every week And I won't carry you home, carry you home"

Hi again, Day :)

Okay, so the thing here is, it’s about apologizing to an ex, and getting HARD rebuffed. And, at first, the singer doesn’t realize it! He thinks it’s a joke! He thinks that after this, he’s still going to get to come home!

Anyway so I think a LOT about the fact that. When Day did their speech, the scene was this. The two of them had argued, apologized, both taking equal shares of the blame for the fact that they hadn’t talked in so long. Then they slept together. TWICE. And THEN. The party was leaving, and Day stayed behind. And Day started apologizing again. And Day started talking so nice style about Theo and the old days. And for a couple seconds, Kez genuinely did think there was a chance that Day was telling her that he wasn’t going to walk out the door.

And then that didn’t happen. Which.

Okay, so anyway. The singer doesn’t get to come home and no one’s carrying him and the girl he’s talking to wants nothing to do with him anymore, and until he was told that explicitly he says he thought it was a joke because he’s that oblivious. That’s what this song is about!

Mr 10pm Bedtime by girli

Baby, don't tell me you're too old To have a little bit of fun sometimes Songs loud and dance awhile (Mister 10 PM bedtime) Baby, don't tell me you don't get why I need my friends and a bottle and a guy Forget the day, I love the night (Mister 10 PM bedtime)

Kez voicemail song! Oh, you want to apologize? Maybe you should think about who you’re fucking talking to. Maybe you should think just a little bit about who you used to be. Maybe you should think about all the time you spent at the clubs and in the back rooms and alleys. Maybe you should really fucking think about what you said, and what you said was wrong and bad and immature, and what you said would make people resent you and leave. (Which. Maybe that’s not what you meant, but maybe you should think about your words, too.) Maybe you should think about the friends you lost. Just maybe.

Landslide by Fleetwood Mac

Well, I've been afraid of changin' 'Cause I've built my life around you But time makes you bolder Even children get older And I'm getting older too Oh, I'm getting older too Oh-oh, take my love, take it down Oh-oh, climb a mountain and turn around And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills Well, the landslide bring it down

And while Day thinks about that. Kez will think about this. Because as much as Kez does and did hate hearing it—especially like that!—Day wasn’t wrong. And Kez is older now—51, by the way, but a young 51—and if someone who loves her can’t see that she has changed, well. Maybe they haven’t, not enough. Day may have been an asshole, but Day’s not cruel. So it needed to be said. Which means Kez needs to take it seriously.

[bubybubsters]

Assistant

a/n: I have 6 drafts now that I have to finished. time to grind out a few before lunch (no prob not). Enjoy! Yall idk who Im going to pair with reader

wc: 1400+

⚠️: idk man

Masterlist

Amren was waltzing down the streets of Velaris towards the rainbow, completely ready to order ask Feyre to paint something for her when she felt it. A shift in the world, nearly impossible to detect but she knew this feeling, it was what she felt when she'd fell through the folds of the universe itself and into this world. A slight tilt of the world, barely half a degree. Someone had just opened a portal straight into Prythian, maybe even straight into Velaris based off how easy the shift was to detect.

Amren looked up in time to see tear appear in the sky, and a female fall through. As the female fell she was franticly pressing her fingers to her shoulders and cursing when nothing happened. Amren wondered if she should save the female, she'd been in that situation a few centuries ago after all. But her magic was gone and she couldn’t do much other than watch. But 15 meters from the ground a parachute sprouted from her back and slowed her fall. The people were looking up now, at the female that floated down and landed among them. She was beautiful, like a dream. White hair, blue eyes ringed with gold, pointed ears and a climbing outfit that showed her body spectacularly.

The female looked around and spoke warily, “hello?” Her voice was soft and carried over the small crowd with the authority of a commander.

The fae around her had mixed reactions, some glowered while others smiled warmly. As Amren watched a male stepped forward. He had a sneer on his face as the female backed up, hands on the hilts of knives. Amren took a step forward, noticing the knives had a hole between the blade and hilt. Climbing knives that matched her outfit, what was this female doing?

“How did you get here? What do you want with this city?” The male started to advance on the female as she held her ground. The people were on high alert after the War and some had begun to get hostile. Amren recognized this particular male, Kian.

This was trouble especially since this female wasn’t backing down. Amren hesitated, she could save her without anyone dying.

As the male advanced and the female raised her knives, Amren stepped forward and spoke, “She is my assistant and was up there by my command testing out a new parachute so go back to your business and stay out of ours.”

Immediately everyone scattered and Amren grabbed the girl by the arm and led her away.

Guess she wasn’t going to Feyre’s studio after all.

*****

Y/n’s POV- three hours earlier

Y/n grinned as her parents rode off to go have vacation that probably involved a lot little fun. She strapped on her gear as her older brother gave her a look and she grinned back at him, tipping her nonexistent hat. Hopping on a horse Y/n rode to the only mountain she hadn’t climbed yet. It was taller than she could see and the rock was smoother than all the others. This was the final test, the final self imposed challenge. There was already a rope at her feet that she’d begged her dad to fly up to the top. He’d agreed but only if she didn’t rush it. (Have you all guessed who her parents are yet?)

She grabbed the rope, testing its strength before pulling out her favorite climbing knife and beginning the ascent. Around half way up, the first problem occurred, she’d skipped a rest stop because she was feeling energetic. But now her body was at its limit, it seemed this particular stretch between stops was longer than the others. Y/n looked around trying not to panic, all around her smooth stone with no crevice’s to be seen. She glanced down and saw the spot she’d skipped 100 meters below. She tilted her head back and looked up, above her another 75 meters was the next stop. Spewing out a few colorful words her mother would have been proud of she used one hand to scrawl a quick note to her parents and siblings before pinning it to the rope with a small pocket knife. Using the rest of her strength she hauled her body up another 5 meters, cursing when her left foot slipped.

Then her right foot.

Now dangling in mid air she kicked at the rock to try to anchor her feet. But with the force of the kick her right hand lost it’s grip on the knife she’d imbedded into the rock. Cursing the gods and herself, she was suddenly glad of the brutal training she and her brothers had endured. Managing to get her feedback anchored and her hand back on the hilt of her knife she decided it wasn’t possible to continue for now.

If there was one thing her uncle Fenrys had taught her it was to know your body’s limits and how far to push. She’d already pushed herself farther than she could endure and if she pushed any farther she wouldn’t make it. So y/n pulled out her knife and let her body drop.

Pushing at the shoulder pads that activated the parachute she desperately searched for a good place to land.

But she never got the chance.

A flash of light sparked and she fell through what looked like a rip in the world. As y/n fell she cursed every deity she knew, just her fucking luck. One of the cuts through worlds right here! How many times had the creature that was made of nightmares gone back and fourth through the worlds?

Time to worry about that later.

As she fell for what seemed like forever she would occasionally glimpsed people laughing in a city or two men brawling with a crowd cheering them on. Once she even glimpsed a black dragon soaring through the air with a navy blue one.

After a glimpse of a women in blue playing with fire like her mother she jolted as she felt herself cross into a different world. Holding her breath she fell through puffs of clouds until a city came into view. She knew it was going to be hard to go back but she could try if she survived. Just climb another mountain and jump right?

As she fell she took in the sprawling city below, it was beautiful, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen before. Spectacular buildings with a sparkling river running through the city. On one side of the river, large buildings with many windows and clocks, the other smaller buildings with all the surfaces colored. But what stood out the most was the rainbow in the midst of the city.

Speaking of the city, the ground was approaching terrifyingly fast and Y/n hurriedly tried to activate her parachute. With barely 20 meters to the ground it activated and her fall slowed to a more bearable speed.

When she landed there was already a large group of fae staring at her like she’d just come in from another world. Which she had. She eyed the people carefully, noting the mix of hostile and welcoming faces.

“Hello?”

They all stared at her as if she’d spoken a different language which she was pretty sure she hadn’t but then some smiled and other glowered. A moment of confusion and silence later a muscular male stepped forward.

Y/n could tell this male wanted a fight, she placed her hands on her climbing knives. Not ideal weapons for fighting but better than nothing. “How did you get here? What do you want with this city?”

The male continued advancing and Y/n drew her knives. She wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here and she certainly didn’t want to be here but she doubted this male was going to believe her.

Suddenly a petite female stepped forward with authority and spoke.“She is my assistant and was up there by my command testing out a new parachute so go back to your business and stay out of ours.”

Y/n eyed the female with suspicion before sliding one knife back in its sheath. If this female had the power to make that crowd scatter with just a few well placed words, she was definitely dangerous. The female grabbed her by the arm and pushed a path through the bustling city.

Y/n opened her mouth, “who-”

“Quiet,” snapped the female looking back at her and Y/n reeled back slightly at the unsettling silver eyes.

But she followed the female as she had aced her from trouble and maybe had a way to get back to her world that didn’t involve falling off another cliff.

Might be a little much to hope for though.

*****

That wasn’t the greatest but ok, please vote below

Guessed who readers parents are yet?

[spice-and-fire]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: @eatdearth x @spice-and-fire SUMMARY: Devi & Jasper meet at the Wormhole for drinks. CONTENT: None

“You know almonds, right?” Devi asked, as if those weren’t a common thing here or most places with a candy store or chocolate shop or even an airport shop. “I used to go crazy for them as a kid…” She shook her head, grinning, before taking a sip of her beer. “But my dad was the worst at shelling them. He'd just hack 'em to pieces with his knife, leaving a bunch of inedible mush behind. In the end, he'd salvage what he could by scraping pieces of the flesh off the shell, then mixing it with some milk and calling it porridge.”

It had been a long day. For most people, that would already be enough to get them a bottle of beer or two, but for someone in Worm Row? Someone like Devi who lives in the most dangerous neighborhood in town? It was just any other day, and a cold glass of beer was an excuse to feel a sort of relief from the day-to-day routine of surviving. “...I do miss the taste of that porridge sometimes...and I miss that old nut-cracker, too.”

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? At least that’s how it went in Jasper’s head, complete with an imagined perfect rendition with his voice, which, of course, would not exist in reality. He was not a singer, especially not someone who could belt out a harmonious Mr. Brightside by The Killers with relative ease. Even the shower wouldn’t indulge his fantasy. It actually started with an attempt at a ‘deez nuts’ joke, the professor having been bombarded with hundreds of thousands of the sort just this week alone that his brain tried to lessen the trauma by pulling the same crap on a stranger. Unfortunately for him, the stranger seemed to have already drank too many beers to actually care.

Jasper heaved a sigh, nodding his head, pretending he was getting what she was talking about. In reality, he was barely listening. Something about almonds and milk. Great. She’s one of those people who aggressively prefers nut milk over cow milk. Jasper didn’t think they were especially harmful, or annoying, but because she was being harmful to him, mostly annoying, she couldn’t help but lump them all in together. And try to change the subject. “Speaking of cracking nuts, you from here? I’ve only been here a couple of times. Pretty far from where I live. Hoping none of my students would find me here.”

Devi simply nodded, taking another sip of her beer, more like a chug, as she never took her eyes off of Jasper. She was surprised, more impressed, that the random guy she was talking to was actually a professor of sorts, maybe even a kindergarten teacher. Don’t get her wrong: Professors are impressive, what with their degrees and everything, but kindergarten teachers? Those guys deal with tiny kids, annoying kids, kids that have yet to know shame and guilt. Those guys are way more impressive than anyone else. “Students? You teach?”

“Say, does your place need security?” Devi squinted as she leaned forward toward him, closer than he probably liked, her beer-scented breath warm to his face. “Because if you guys need security, or extra security, I’m really good at working security,” she leaned back, shrugging, a playful smirk on her face. Devi was proud of that part of her, being efficient and competent in the field of security. She’d done much worse in the past, beating people to a pulp, setting things including said people on fire, displaying gruesome violence all for a lot of money, so still being able to be on top of things and people without needing to resort to her past barbaric tendencies… Well, that was pretty impressive, if she thought so herself. “Like, really good.”

“I do,” Jasper beamed with pride. If there was one thing in his life he was most proud of, aside from his luxurious mane, it was his calling, his craft, his field. “I teach geology at the university. I’m a geologist, a professor, and an all-round rockstar.” With a shake of his head, he winked at the woman before realizing that pun might need some explaining. “Get it? Rockstar? Because I work with rocks?” Probably didn’t actually need some explaining. Might have made it a whole lot worse now. Puns have never been the most accepted form of humor, and explaining them? Well, that might be offensive to some people.

“Security?” Jasper instinctively raised an eyebrow. He looked the woman over, from head to toe, and subconsciously licked his lips. She was fine. More than fine. Like girlfriend material. Maybe even wife material. Definitely someone he’d take care of, love until the day he died. Or at least the idealized version he had of her. Jasper didn’t know her that much, not yet at least, to make this kind of assumption. He could blame the alcohol or the loneliness but he definitely needs some more maturing in that regard. “You work security?” He blurted out, in disbelief that someone who looked like her worked a field so risky and dangerous as security.

“Huh,” Devi squinted at Jasper, as if confused by his revelation. At first, she thought he didn’t look like a geology professor. But then again, what would a geology professor even look like? Devi, who barely had a formal education, wouldn’t know. Professors to her have always been silver-haired old men or bespectacled ladies with prim and proper clothing. Jasper seemed young and less disillusioned by the world around him, though she could be wrong. His ‘rock’ pun confirmed that. “...I see. You actually like rock, the music genre, or is that just for the wordplay?”

When his eyes wandered all over her, Devi felt the heat, becoming a little more defensive than usual. It was like he was judging her from the way she looked. Growing up in a different country from where she had been born, and being who, or more precisely, what she is, that whole thing was not her jam. So it made her a little more annoyed and a little less…nice. “Yeah, I do,” she blurted out almost instinctively, as aggressively as she could. “Got a problem with that, Professor?”

Eyebrow raised, an agitated Devi didn’t stop with that. She leaned forward, now wearing a scowl, doing the same thing to him as he had to her: Judging him after her eyes went over his entire body. “What are you even doing here? This is Worm Row, not your cushy university, with your rich students and expensive beers. You here for something illegal? Something scandalous, huh?” Was he a pervert? It was all starting to make sense to her now. A professor down there for a simple bottle of beer? Nah, he was more likely some sort of deviant, out to buy some folks’ time and company so he could do his weird, maybe even dark, desires with them. Disgusting. “You a piece of shit, Jimmy?”

“I mean, sure,” Jasper shrugged, clearly a filthy casual when it came to music genres. The man listens to The Coffeehouse playlist on Spotify without even remembering the individual titles on there. He was not the best guy to ask for recommendations on songs. He could barely remember the tunes he’s heard for days, both intentionally and unintentionally. “I like rock. I listen to it whenever I can. The Beatles, am I right?” Were the Beatles rock? He had a feeling the woman would tell him either way.

“Oh, no problem,” Jasper feigned a cough, feeling the weight of the night, the company, and the drinks just then. Was his shoulder aching? He could have sworn it wasn’t just a few seconds ago. Why would it even start to hurt? “No problem at all,” he repeated without looking at her, his full attention on the bad feeling on his shoulder. “I just meant, well, you look too pretty to be working security,” he fucked up, obliviously. “Like, you should be a model or something else.”

“Illegal?” Jasper perked up, eyes wide in horror when she started assuming the worst of him. In her defense, she had some great points. Why would a self-respecting professor go all the way down in Worm Row for a drink? In his defense? He was not a self-respecting professor, if not only a professor. “Oh, no! No, no, no! Nothing of the sort,” he gulped, straightened himself on his seat, as if that would help his argument. “I’m just… I don’t really want to run into students or other professors or everyone I know, you know? Also, it’s Jasper, not Jimmy… Did you give me your name?”

Devi wasn’t in the mood to argue. The alcohol coursing through her veins fought off any internal urge to pick a fight with Jasper’s statements. He was right about one thing, though: The Beatles were rock. And a bunch of other things. Hard to box legends with careers, especially music, that withstand time. With a wide grin on her face, she leaned back before unintentionally pounding his shoulder, closer to his back, with a wider hand. “You’re all right, Blackbird,” she chuckled. You’re all right.”

It helped that apparently his earlier comments were meant to be a compliment. Devi didn’t initially take them as such, but to be fair, Devi wasn’t taking things as they are at that point in time. If she was, she wouldn’t be drinking her problems away with a random stranger. A model, though? She felt that was a bit much. She’s been called pretty before, mostly by men with needs, but a model? That felt to her like an unnecessary stretch. “Maybe I am? I’m woman enough to be able to juggle more than one job, right?”

“Jasper,” Devi mouthed his name again. It wasn’t that odd of a name, though it was definitely less common than Jimmy. At least to her it was. She shrugged before she answered his question, “Nope.” Guy was relatable. At least he’d be if she was herself a few years ago. Running into faces she was familiar with in that state? That would’ve been impossible back then. She would’ve made sure of it. But that was all in the past. She’s lost so many loved ones, running into them again would be a welcomed respite from all the regrets, the bad memories, the living nightmares that has since haunted her sober days. 

“It’s Devi,” she let out a yawn, stretching her limbs to either side in protest at the sleepiness. “You know, I get you, Jasper. Sometimes, we just gotta be somewhere else, somewhere new, somewhere no one we know will find us.” It was exactly why she had even moved to town. Somewhere else. Somewhere new. Somewhere no one left she knew would find her. And her sins.

“Blackbird?” Jasper was confused. Where did that come from? Was it because of his skin tone? The geology professor wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. On one hand, he should be offended, right? On the other? She’s kinda cute, so maybe that’s a win for him? Fortunately for him, his stupidity didn’t need to go any further than that. Instead, the sound of his name on her lips pulled him off those thoughts and elsewhere, somewhere much better. “You’re definitely a woman…”

It was Jasper’s turn to mouth her name, only he didn’t speak it out loud. In his head, he did, and that was more than enough for him. It wasn’t like he’d forget her name. He doubted he would forget it and her any time soon. Eyes following her body’s movements, the spellcaster found her words hitting close to home. Too close. Was she the same? A kindred spirit? Or were those words more apt for the friend he had lost down the mines. “Yeah, well,” Jasper heaved a sigh, his mood turning gloomy, as he switched his full attention back to the counter, resting his whole weight on his forearm against the tabletop. “If someone can find us where we think they won’t, maybe that’ll help us find someone else we haven’t been able to find…” Or something like that.

“Yeah?” Devi frowned. Didn’t he say he was a fan of the Beatles? His question confused her in turn, but instead of just prodding him with any accusations, she began singing the familiar line of the should-have-been familiar song to him. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night…” she began, leaning back on her seat, her back against the counter, arms over the tabletop, her head bowing up and down with the imaginary tune only she could hear. “Take these broken wings and learn to fly!” 

“All your life!” A table near them started to sing along, surprising Devi but in a way that only motivated her to continue singing with them, a huge grin on her face. “You were only waiting for this moment to arise…” When the brief sing-along ended, everyone who had participated chuckled and raised their bottles for a cozy cheer. She then heaved a sigh of contentment, and took a swig from her bottle. “Damn right, I am. More woman than any man can handle.” Another chuckle. Before the professor switched gears and started acting all sad. 

Devi could relate: With all her past mistakes, regrets even, disappearing in a small town her old…acquaintances wouldn’t even think of visiting was the best idea she’s ever had. She doubted anyone could find her there. And would rather not sadness find the both of them where and when they were right then and there. “Or… Maybe they’ve already found us, eh? And they’re the someone we didn’t know we needed to find!”

There was never a moment in Jasper’s life where he felt the utmost relief, though if there had been, he couldn’t remember. More importantly, he was impressed. It dawned on him that the woman he was drinking with may be somewhat of a local celebrity. Definitely not just a random face on the street. He’d seen people try to start a sing-along at a bar before, and most of the time, it took great effort. Unless it was a sports thing, strangers barely sang with each other unprompted. Here, the woman didn’t even ask for anyone else to support her singing. They just did. Granted she was pretty, so there’s that… “Oh, yeah!” Jasper nodded, grinning, before taking a swig from his drink. “I remember that song. Classic.”

Was she hitting on him? That was the thought that immediately ran down Jasper’s tiny brain with her final sentiments. After that talk about a woman no man can handle, the geology professor was thinking that maybe she was offering herself up to him as a challenge? Was that sexist? Some backwards misogynistic thought? In a way, in a specific context, maybe. At the moment? He just wasn’t sure. He was too intoxicated to delve deeper into such notions. At least that’s the excuse he wanted to go with. Dangerous territory right there, and he was a rock guy, not a sociopolitical/humanities big brain person. “Maybe,” he grinned again, loosening up in his seat. “Maybe I can be that man who can handle all that woman? Worth a try.”

“Yeah?” Devi grinned, an eyebrow raised as she looked him over from head to toe. He didn’t look bad. Entirely way better than the last guy who tried to hit on her. Now that guy? That guy was a complete fool. Tried to grab her when she said no, so Devi grabbed him back and knocked him out cold. The rest of the bar laughed at his unconscious ass and cheered her on. Now that guy was banned for life from the Wormhole. Poor guy. Now he wouldn’t be able to show them he could change. Also he got hauled into the station, so she guessed, if he wasn’t from Worm Row, that would suck. Or not, depending on whether he had friends in high places. Unfair but that’s just the world for most people. “Think so?”

“Mmm, you’re not bad…” Devi teased before finishing the entirety of what remained in her bottle, leaving it empty if not for air. She heaved a sigh of relief, grinned and then nodded at the bartender, before turning to the professor again. “You’re not married, are you? In a relationship with someone else? Because I don’t do people who’re already with other people. Unless there’s consent, like one of those open relationship things, but even then, I’m not really one for sharing.” The last thing she wanted was to break up a home or someone else’s heart. The last person who tried lying to her about all that found their bones broken. “If not, do you want to pay for all these, so we can get out of here, Blackbird?”

“OH, I’m definitely not married,” Jasper let out a chuckle, much louder and larger than he ever expected to. When he realized that, he meekly apologized with an awkward grin. He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for, but it felt like he should, so he did. “No relationships either. I was in one, with a coworker, but that did not end well.” He made sure to leave out the part where said coworker is still a coworker and still randomly shows up at his place whenever she feels like it. That was a weird situation, and he felt he didn’t need to add more weird in whatever this entire thing was. “So, nope, just me right now,” he shrugged. “...and my dog.”

Jasper lamented his mistake of adding that last line but decided it might have just added to his charm. Chicks digged dogs, right? Even though his was a total b-word. He was mid-sip when Devi insinuated what he thought she insinuated and almost spat out all the liquid. Without saying anything else, he scrambled for his wallet while at the same time calling for the bartender’s attention, rushing to pay for their drinks, for everything else, so they could go wherever she wanted them to go. Hopefully where he thought she wanted him. “Blackbird’s ready to fly!”

[motownfiction]

to the marsh

Lucy has been agonizing over her stupid feelings for a week already, which is too long. She knows she shouldn’t even care about this – that it doesn’t matter if Will needs an extra year to finish up his bachelor’s degree – but for some reason, it’s getting to her. Gnawing at her, really, is more like it, which she hates.

The worst thing is that there’s barely anyone she can talk to about it. Her parents will say she’s being self-centered, and Will, the person she talks to about everything, will be embarrassed. The only person that really leaves is Sadie, whose idea is going to the marsh.

Whenever Sadie feels disconnected from life, she gets in the car and heads to Crosswinds Marsh. She’s been doing it since she got a driver’s license in tenth grade. It’s a lot easier in the spring, when the sun is warmer, and not in mid-January, when heavy mud and heavier snow try to suck you down, below the ground. Lucy, as always, is wearing the wrong shoes.

“I told you to wear boots,” Sadie says as they walk through the marsh.

“These are boots,” Lucy says.

“Yes. They are little fashion booties that look adorable when you give speeches in the English department. They are no good for walking through the marsh in January.”

“You know what else is no good for walking through the marsh in January?”

“What?”

“People.”

Sadie sighs.

“You know, babe, you didn’t have to do this at all,” she says. “And you really didn’t need to invite me. I could be at home with my husband. Enjoying the heat indoors.”

“I could be doing the same,” Lucy says.

“No, you couldn’t. You can’t even look at Will. That’s what we’re doing here.”

Lucy sighs. They get to a spot that feels right to stop. There is no sun to watch over them. Just cold wind smacking them in their faces. It doesn’t feel good, but maybe that’s the point.

“How does this help?” Lucy asks. “You just stand here and … what?”

“It’s quiet,” Sadie says. “We’re around a lot of loudness, you and me. We make a lot of loudness, too.”

“I love being loud.”

“So do I. But I know you need quiet, too. We’re more alike than people realize. If we weren’t, we probably would have stopped being friends.”

Lucy nods, but in her heart – the metaphorical one, the one she pretends not to have – she knows nothing could ever make her stop being friends with Sadie. There’s something about Sadie, like the way she’d practically force Lucy to come here, a place so outside of her comfort zone, she’s not even sure how she would have arrived. Lucy needs her. Sixteen years ago, Lucy and her parents moved to Metro Detroit for her parents’ jobs. But they really moved here so that Lucy could meet Sadie.

Lucy takes a deep breath and tries to feel what Sadie feels – tries to feel how Sadie feels, too. She’s the most open-hearted person in the world, never afraid to tell you when she’s hurt, never afraid of anything. Lucy can’t believe it when she sees it. She’s afraid of everything. Everything that counts in the real world, anyway.

“It’s stupid,” she says.

“I know,” Sadie says. “You’re an indoors person.”

“No, not the marsh. The marsh is fine. Probably better in May.”

“Definitely.”

Lucy sighs. She kicks around some mud on her shoe and wonders if she’ll be able to salvage it. She does have a speech to give at the English department’s yearly reception next month, after all.

“I just had this idea in my head, and it was like I couldn’t move it after a little while,” Lucy says. “You, Daniel, Will, and me. All graduating together. I wanted … I wanted Elenore to see that. I wanted her to be proud that Mommy and Daddy did it. We graduated. She was born, and it made our lives better in every way.”

She turns her head so the wind hits her more. If she cries, she can blame it on the breeze.

“But you and Will did both do it,” Sadie says. “Will did it so much, he picked two majors. You can’t be surprised it’s taking him an extra year.”

“I know,” Lucy says. “And do you know … do you have any idea how proud I am of him for that? He didn’t do it for me, he didn’t do it for some professor, he did it for himself. He knew what he wanted, and he just … he did it. And I wanted to be up there, right next to him, while he made it.”

“You will be next to him. Maybe not at the graduation, but think about it. A year from this April. You and Elenore, sitting in the nosebleeds with the rest of us, cheering him on. We’ll get to watch him. And it’ll be all about him. Don’t you want that?”

Lucy closes her eyes and thinks about Will, but not the twenty-one-year-old man she’s married to now. She thinks about Will, two versions ago, the seven-year-old who liked to speak with her through tin cans and strings in their bedroom windows. She thinks about that boy, with his big smile and high laugh. Would he have ever thought about graduating from college? Would he have ever known what it would mean to grow up and become a man? A husband? A father? Would he be proud of himself now?

Would he be proud like Lucy is?

“It’ll be great,” Lucy says.

She takes a deep breath and looks out in front of her. It almost doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“This is pretty nice,” Lucy says.

“I know,” Sadie says.

They don’t say anything for a while. It’s nice to get rid of the loudness.

(part of @nosebleedclub january challenge -- day 13!)

[londonrih]

Can I vent/rant about Isabel for a quick moment?

I finished rewatching 5.20, and some of the things she said bothered me so much.

like first off, I felt like she kept trying to slide in stuff about her past, like when she was deep into addiction, “when I fell from Grace,” or when smitty came up to her and Tim and he was surprised to see her after all those years and she was like “without the greasy hair and track marks?” When he was really just talking about her in uniform and whatever.

And then, we cut to the part where she and Tim are in the roll call room together, and she asked how long he and Lucy have been together. Then she mentions how her relationships have been on and off, “you set the bar pretty high.” You didn’t have to say all that, if we’re being honest. Like, clearly Tim knows he a good guy, we know it too…but to say that when YOU fucked up YOUR marriage with YOUR addiction…that’s why he kinda gave her that look before getting interrupted by the call with Frank.

Then, if ya really wanna just dive deep into it all, we have where it was just her and Tim sitting outside the motel, she mentioned that she “wanted to be there you (him)” even though this is wayyyyy before her addiction STILL. And he ended up changing the subject, but It’s still something to take note in. Then, when Tim says “Lucy’s different” all of a sudden isabels saying “she’s not a junky in waiting?” Like excuse me what the actual fuck? WHEN and WHERE did Tim EVERRRR imply that! He never did honey bunch.

She’s made so many comments in this episode that didn’t slide with me, like AT ALL!! “Always the protector.” Right in front of Lucy 🧍🏾‍♀️

And of course, there’s when she OUTED EVERYONE OUT. “We’re cops, she’s active current, I’m retired” if you’re gonna out everyone out, at least tell the full truth, cause you got FIRED. And the thing is, Dara also knew Tim, so all three of them, BLOWN. She just kinda protected herself by saying she’s “retired.” Lucy already told Frank to visit Dara, or reconnect in some way in 5.21, so even if they were to meet up, she’d end up snitching. He’d come after Isabel, Lucy and Tim as a bonus.

But she wants to tell Dara at the end of the episode to not tell anybody. She’s 18, she knows the business her father’s in, she’s gonna say some shit. And by the end of the episode, it was still fresh on Dara’s mind. She’s definitely gonna say something. It’s just a matter of time.

What pissed me off the most was how she was basically telling her how she took her under her wing and whatever because it was during the most “loneliest time in her life,” or she “felt alone” something like that, idk…but she and Tim were married. I know she was undercover and whatever but, she already told Tim that she wanted to be there with him…but she was attached to Dara during the loneliest point in her life…how does that even work?

And the thing is, I am proud of her, she got clean, she built a whole new life for herself, tryna get that degree. I applaud her for that. And I am still upset with everything that happened between her and Tim in season one, but everything she did, and said in 5.20–it took me a while to finally register everything after being stuck on them damn kisses and implied shower sex with chenford for so long…I was finally realizing what Isabel was saying and what she was doing and I didn’t agree with NONE OF IT.

Everything about her in that episode just irked me. Forget about the man child, randy in the episode for a second, ISABEL pissed me off. I have a feeling she’ll be back, to cause some more shit pretty soon though.

Chenford’s about to face some challenges and it’s all because of Isabel. Anywho vent/ rant over.

[soulcarved]

introducing - xander!

name: xander valadian

parents: loni valadian / father [ redacted ]

species: human/half werewolf inherited from his mother.

age: 28

starsign: capricorn

birthdate: january 2nd

height: 6ft5

hair colour: naturally red, dyes it icy blond/almost white.

eye colour: icy blue.

sexuality: homosexual

defining features: covered in tattoos from the throat down. has his labret and septum pierced as well as a bunch of piercings on both ears and two eyebrow piercings on the left side. xander also has a jacob’s ladder piercing.

about: concerning the werewolf aspects of xander - he is more predisposed to violent outbursts (this is only further encouraged due to his upbringing with his father). while xander isn’t affected by the full moon in the same way that loni is, it does still affect him to a certain degree - he will take on more animalistic traits (nails and teeth become sharp, isn’t in full control of himself and the full moon takes a lot out of him both mentally and physically). xander has sharper senses, though this can be a hinderance when considering large crowds and bright lights - these tend to over stimulate him and can be quite disorienting at times.

due to his werewolf heritage, xander is stronger that the average human - almost to what people would consider superhuman strength. He also has denser bone structure, meaning it’s very difficult for him to break his bones. if injured, he heals quicker than most, in a day or two depending on the severity of the injury. xander is unable to get sick and he has an average body temperature of 100 farenheit and he is unaffected by this.

cold, calculating - some might even describe xander as cruel. born from a loveless relationship, xander found early on that his parents were not suited for one another. he idolized his father, wanting to be just like him when he grew up, and so when the opportunity arose to either stay in the states with his mom or move to japan with his dad, he chose his dad.

xander would follow his father around like a lost puppy, a quiet boy but only ever wanting to prove himself worthy of his father’s love. but his father was not an easy man to live with, abusive and horrible and treating xander only as a tool to get what he wanted - control over loni.

years would pass and from the age of seven, xander would be indoctrinated into the yakuza by his father - told he was going to make him proud and become someone truly fearsome, someone even his mother would fear. xander was young, didn’t understand what he was getting himself into and so did as his father asked, whenever he asked - lest he face the consequences.

xander was twelve when he received his irezumi, a painful experience that left him crying in pain for his father, who watched on and did nothing more than scold him for being so weak. It was then that something changed in xander - once a quiet boy, now a child forced to grow up too soon. he threw himself into life as a yakuza, often times thinking about his mother and wondering why she never called - if only xander knew that she had been trying to get him back for years.

at age fifteen, xander was sent to follow his father along - a test to see if he was living up to his expectations. when things turned south and xander screamed for help from his father, he knew that no help was coming. an iron pipe, that’s what he used to beat his assailant to death, blood splatters everywhere. bits of gore and flesh strewn about. 

xander was never the same after that. torn between wanting to do the right thing and fighting with a part of himself that had enjoyed the power that came along with such strength.

only a few months had passed before loni had arrived to take xander back home. the now teenage boy was confused, because he had been told that his mother didn’t want him, that she’d hated him from the moment he was born - but how could that be true when she was here fighting for him now? loni managed to bring xander back to the states, got him involved in therapy, helped him catch up on school as his father hadn’t deemed it important to learn such things. it took time and effort, but xander slowly started growing more comfortable and slotted in to what was a normal life - just him and his mom.

loni had noticed xander’s talent for art early on, did all she could to make sure such a thing was nurtured and, when he was old enough - helped him open up a tattoo shop of his own.

now 28, xander lives a relatively normal life - despite being quite isolated. he’s closed off and can come across as cruel, though he supposes that some habits are heard to break. he has a tattoo shop of his own with an apartment directly above it and quite often he spends all his time there. he sees his mom weekly, whether it be going around to her home for dinner or her popping in to say hello - regardless of the reasoning, xander has come to enjoy the monotony of life.

but one thing still plagues him, one little impulse that he’s struggled to maintain after all these years. it was addictive in a way, wasn’t it? watching the life drain from someone’s eyes? watching blood splutter from their mouth as they beg for mercy–

mood board - playlist - headcanons

[vuldak-juneau]

Juneau desperately wanted to tell Alucard, or anyone really, how much she missed her stand-in for a father. The words never seemed to come, so she simply nodded. Alucard had always been civil to her, even when she’d laughed at him, even when they had only just met. She suspected that a good parent would probably be proud to have a son with many of the characteristics he had. Juneau did not verbalize this either. “I’ve heard of him,” Juneau said, glancing at Alucard from the corner of her eye. Perhaps if she had learned to read sooner she might have pieced that together in seeing the verse of Alucard’s name, but it seemed to surprise her to some degree. “In stories around campfires, and fables meant to be lessons to children. He always seemed to be lionized or villainized. I guess it’s all kind of a matter of perspective for all of us.” Juneau felt she was rotten and wrong, but so many others seemed to care for her. She had also sensed some of Alucard’s almost counter-productive self awareness in the wastes, she remembered asking him if he ever did anything just for the sake of doing it, and doubting that he did. Back then, at least, she doubted it.

The vuldak sucked her teeth. It was a good question: what had been the fate of Ivar? “I don’t actually know,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t see him at any point during the flight from Iskaldrik, but we only separated two weeks before the invasion. I doubt he managed to get himself killed in that little time. I haven’t sensed him here in Lysara, but I’m not looking for him either.” She sunk further into her chair, as if it might sprout arms and comfort her. “Some people tell me I should find him and kill him, but I think that would make me just as bad as he is. Sometimes I think about trapping him and making him the same thing as me so he knows how it feels. Other people think what I am isn’t that bad,” she scoffed, clearly not believing it herself, “and that he’s more aligned with the Dark One than me, but…. I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“There was an Elvhen, two pirates… an exiled Warrior of Mars…” A blighted, corrupted street dog.

"Something like that." Juneau would be hard-pressed to find a dhampir that wasn't contorted into some alternative shape that had been designed by their sire, maker, and parent. "I'm a dhampir, born undead instead of turned. My father's a vampire. Vlad Drakul of Veilcrest." Many centuries ago that might have meant something, but the man was more myth than anything now - faded glory that was tied up in revelry and rage with nowhere for the latter to go but inward.

The feral girl from the Wastelands, wolfish in nature but distinctly dead, for the legionnaire and century-old dhampir who'd once marched beside vuldaks and other undead, the leap was not a difficult one for him to make. "What happened to him?" Alucard knew where his own path lay, but he wouldn't dictate how Juneau should walk her own. "We can discuss what we saw with others who've been through the box, but if you want to protect their anonymity then I won't press."

[estrella-ortiz]

trigger warnings include: parental death, violence mentions or implications, drug, smoking & alcohol mentions or implications, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of terminal illness

SKELETON: 

The Creative

FULL CHARACTER NAME:

Estrella ‘Ella’ Ortiz

FACE CLAIM:

Adria Arjona

AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 

30, November 7 1992

HOMETOWN:

Chicago born and raised, up until a few years ago

TIME LIVING IN CHICAGO: 

Back for a few (~3) weeks, though lived here from the birth until the age of 25

NEIGHBORHOOD:

The South Side

OCCUPATION:

A tattoo artist at a local shop. She is not a member of the Devil’s Disciples, but her strong family ties to the MC.

GENDER, PRONOUNS & SEXUALITY:Ella is a ciswoman and uses she/her pronouns. She is bisexual and biromantic.

BACKGROUND:

Estrella’s childhood was full of the rumble of a motorcycle and the scent of engine oil, the wind in her hair on the back of her dad’s bike. Her formative days were ones filled with cigarette smoke, leather and patches with no bedtime to speak of. Little girls were supposed to be soft and gentle, lace and silk, but Ella was all hard edges and grit from the day she was born.  Far from idyllic, home was the back of her daddy’s bike because that was the home they made. The club was family, and home was on the back of a bike with the wind in her hair. Estrella was raised within the Devil’s Disciples because her father was a member, and that was the only life she’d ever known: you live by the club and die by the club, and that was the lesson she clung to. That was what mattered, at the end of each and every day and that was really the only thing that struck home with her. Their family might be unconventional, but Ella would not have wanted it any other way. This was the life she was given, and it was the life she would have chosen for herself if given the option. Ella’s view of the club may have been through rose-colored-glasses considering how she was raised and considering how much she adored her father, though that didn’t matter to her.  From the day she could walk and toddle after him, Ella was following in her father’s footsteps. She was ever the daddy’s girl, wanting to be just like him when she grew up and that expanded and grew as she did. She was covered in grease and engine oil from the time she was in pre-school, knew the steps to an oil change on her dad’s bike before she could write her name. It didn’t matter what she was doing so long as he was proud. School was never of interest, even from an early age: Ella’s attention span did not lend itself to ABCs or 123s, and focusing on lessons and memorization had never been her style. Ella had always been the type to learn with her hands, always had a need to be kept busy and moving or her interest would move on. In the case of school, that straying interest usually started with doodling on the edge of her paper with a soft reprimand from a teacher that would escalate to trouble. Trouble started with fidgeting and finding reasons to leave her seat, and escalated to being smart-mouthed and pulling hair to get her excused from class. The lectures she would inevitably receive from her mother (called from work, again, to come collect her) would make Ella temporarily sheepish (and later, she’d at least pretend to be), but at least at home she was free to draw and move about without redirection. Trouble in later years meant truancy, fighting, suspension, detention. In truth, she only finished school at her parents’ insistence that a high school degree would open opportunities for her that she wouldn’t have otherwise. Teenage rebellion had her spitting back that she didn’t want those opportunities, but well, even as a sassy teenager Ella couldn’t stand to disappoint her father.

Trouble in later years meant truancy, fighting, suspension, detention. In truth, she only finished school at her parents’ insistence that a high school degree would open opportunities for her that she wouldn’t have otherwise. Teenage rebellion had her spitting back that she didn’t want those opportunities, but well, even as a sassy teenager Ella couldn’t stand to disappoint her father. The theme of trouble seemed to follow her outside of school, sticking around like a bad rash and causing more headaches for parents. The trouble continued even after high school ended, and well, began to escalate. Late night phone calls from bars that should never have admitted her or from the police station became a common theme, and a slew of misdemeanors began to rack up before she’d even reached adulthood: petty theft, speeding and racing (on that bike her father had given her for her fifteenth birthday), drunk and disorderly,, trespassing and vandalism. The list grew and grew, though her father could never feign disappointment and anger for long: in the end, he would grin and shake his head because she was her father’s daughter. Ella had always liked to work with her hands, and art was an early interest that stuck with her through the ins-and-outs (mostly outs) of school and everything in-between. Doodling on papers to avoid doing work progressed into intricate sketches, and as she grew older the interest in art stayed consistent and grew. Art school temporarily crossed her mind, but well, she didn’t have the grades for that (and that was her own doing, her mother would remind her). Sketching on skin and in the holes of her jeans led to buying a crappy tattoo gun and practicing on herself and her friends for free, but getting an apprenticeship straight out of school seemed impossible. So she worked at a local diner, tattooed in her free time and set her sights on making something for herself, school be damned.

Life with the club remained. Ella was as involved as she could be without prospecting and patching in. The club was her family, always would be. You live and die by the club. And well, she saw that first hand. Her father, dead on the side of the road somewhere in an accident.. Ella had seen it on the news before she’d gotten the news from the police: the red and blue lights, strung out and blaring on the evening news report. Couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be him, right? No, he’d be home soon and they’d laugh it off together. Ella left the funeral halfway through. Couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle it. She’d always been her father’s daughter, so who the hell was she now? She was gone three months later, without a goddamn trace. She left behind just about everything, including the only life she’d ever known and everything she’d ever wanted for herself. Left her apartment only half-vacated, packed up only the essentials into her crappy tin can of a car and fucking split. She didn’t have a goal in mind, didn’t have a destination in mind. All Ella knew was she needed to leave, couldn’t fucking breathe at home anymore. No, all she wanted was to disappear. And the positive pregnancy test she’d popped before leaving only cemented her need to get the hell out and not look back. New York sounded nice, and well, she was used to living in a city. The shoebox apartment she got for herself was sketchy at best, but it was hers and it would work. It took her some time to decide what to do with the baby, but Luna Noelle was born on Christmas Eve and all at once Ella’s perspective of everything changed. As much as she missed home, missed her life, missed her family (the club, her mom, her siblings), she wouldn’t return. No, that little girl was her world now and Ella owed it to her to be better. She owed that baby a life that wasn’t the one that she’d been raised in. She owed that baby a life where her parents wouldn’t be found dead in a ditch on the side of the road. And so, Ella and Luna settled into New York. That shoebox apartment got smaller as Luna got bigger, but they made due. Art school was no longer a far-off dream, and Ella worked at a diner and took classes at night to make it work. A tattoo apprenticeship took up was little time was left in her days, and while she might be fucking exhausted she was doing what she set out to do: she was making a life for her and her daughter, come hell or high water. Home was still on her mind, and the tingle of guilt or regret or homesickness came at unexpected moments. It was less raw now, years later, though undeniably still there. She missed her family, missed her home, missed her bike. Luna’s childhood was not full of leather and patches (though admittedly some cigarette smoke) as her own had been, and while that was what Ella wanted there was still some sadness that her daughter would never know the club.

Until, as life would have it, things spun out of Ella’s control again: her mother was sick. Not little sick, big sick, and Ella found herself packing up that piece-of-shit-car that was still in her name and breaking the lease on her apartment to move back home. On the drive from Manhattan to Chicago, she told Luna all about how they would be staying at Abuela’s house, how Abuela would be so excited to see her instead of just speak to her on the phone, but inside Ella couldn’t help but feel conflicted. She’d left home, left everything she’d ever known behind, and now she was running right back to it. The long term game had never been clear (and well, she’d never been good at planning), but this hadn’t certainly not been on her five-year-plan. She’d worked so hard to provide for Luna, to keep her from the childhood she’d known. Ella had that thought firmly in her mind, as she moved back into her childhood bedroom and began her apartment search. She’d do better still, for Luna. But…well, Ella still was her father’s daughter.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 8 Ep. 47: A Night on the Town

Nikita was crushed when the colleges she had applied to wouldn’t let her into their distinguished degree programs. Paul had only begun to help her process that disappointment when they heard panic from the kitchen.

Peachy’s morning fry-up had gone spectacularly awry, and in the soot-stained aftermath the whole household agreed that they needed a break.

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

They settled on a trip to The Party Place, with its games, drinks, and dancing, as the best way to reset their unfortunate morning.

Peachy and Chance invited their respective significant others while Paul convinced August to swing by between classes. The outing was an excellent way for Chance to (re) introduce Bianca to the crew, as his relationship with the military officer had been moving along nicely.

The young men were shocked to meet her again so far from Strangerville. After teasing them about inheriting Chance’s good looks, she thanked them directly for helping her cut through the politics around the alien outbreak, getting details of that wild final night and their adventures since.

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

The whole group made a brief visit to the crowded dance floor to let DJ Jazzy George reset their energy, but quickly moved on to calmer scenes.

After a stop at the bar to quench their dance induced thirst they split up into smaller groups to enjoy the games around the edges of the venue.

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

At the bar, Nikita told Paul she was going to go for a psychology degree. It wouldn’t be a distinguished degree, but in the end she’d still be a professor and get to spend her whole life both studying and sharing her love of learning. This made perfect sense to her boyfriend, even if he couldn’t stand the pressures of tests and revising papers himself. He was terribly proud of her and looked forward to being her study buddy at their local library.

When the young couple finished their drinks, they started a game of Sixam Invaders on the big screen, inviting the group’s college expert to join them.

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

Across the room from the giant screen full of alien explosions, August’s brother settled onto the couch with Jack to snuggle and watch sports.

As they chatted about their pasts, they hit upon an unexpected connection. Soccer fan Jack had studied the sports career of Peachy’s great grandfather Storm Miller before he had even considered travelling abroad. In fact, the foreigner knew more about his ancestor than he did!

Unexpectedly the outsider in his own backstory, Peachy dipped into a pun-tastic compliment to get back to more familiar ground. Jack was quite used to Peachy’s penchant for delivering silly one liners instead of traditional flirtation and had learned to return affection in the same groan worthy manner.

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

Chance was also ironically feeling on incredibly familiar ground with his new girl. She didn’t talk about her family or her work, but she always seemed engaged and comfortable in the moment with him. It seemed mysterious government agencies and mysterious magical callings formed similar habits.

He was wise enough not to bring up her similarities to his longtime ex in any regard, but as they laughed together over the tale of a shopping mishap, Chance made sure she knew that jumping into this surprise outing with her was the high point of his week.

Secretly he already saw her not as his current date, but as his future family, even if he wasn’t ready to share that certainty with anyone else yet.

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

When the DJ took off in the evening, Peachy couldn’t pass up the opportunity to claim the open microphone for a little stand-up routine.

His years of practice made it a smooth and comfortable set. Afterward the manager complimented Peachy on his act and mentioned their sister venue over in Evergreen Harbor. It wasn’t quite the same vibe, but he’d love Peachy to stop by there sometime and perk up the atmosphere.

Everyone was all smiles as they headed towards home. Today’s outing had been just what they needed to relax, unwind, and prepare for the future.

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

Want To See More? View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[drjuliasato]

Julia was getting more fucking confused by the second, on the one hand she felt a tonne of guilt on her shoulders for what she had done to Arkin because he had a right to know he had a child out there somewhere, but in a moment of clarity between shock and panic she realised…he didn’t know that. The blond in front of her had no idea she was keeping information from him in any capacity, so him acting like an asshole was even more out of pocket. She’d of course seen the career trajectory he’d taken which included the drug issues that followed and sure maybe this had lead to him becoming bitter and callous but … surely addiction hadn’t changed the Arkin she knew to that degree? It had her brain skittering across various plains of thought as she looked at his face with an upset frown. Then he started taking shots at her parents for some unknown reason and she was unable to stop herself from speaking, a scoff escaping her just before she did. “Jesus, what is your problem? Yeah - mom and dad got what they wanted, we all know they wanted me to be a doctor since the day they knew they were having me, so what? Them being pushing is not new information to either of us.” Crossing her arms across her chest - all the stress and exhaustion that had been mounting through her first confusion shift at the hospital seemingly coming to the front now she was being confronted in this way. “My parents will never be happy enough to actually be proud of me. Why are you being so unbelievably rude to me?” She couldn’t help but ask, hating everything about this confrontation. @arkin-oconnell

Arkin wasn’t an inherently a cruel or heartless person. The guy had started out completely different but it was a multitude of things that brought him to who was standing in front of Julia now. His father reputation in town for being a well known cheater and homewrecker that seemed to give him the same moniker. The last fifteen plus years of drinking, partying, and drug use, working in a cutthroat industry, knowing his dead died before he could really tell the dude off, and then last bit certainly not least what happened with him and the woman in front of him. He was a complete wreck of a man now and he had no idea where the anger and frustration ended and the real him began. But this was a conversation he didn’t want to have and just wanted to walk away before he said something else that wasn’t particularly nice.

“ what are the fucking odds” Arkin noted as he let out an noise of exasperation. He’s only been home a couple of months and trying to stay clean and sober and the one thing he knew would set him off was right in front of him. He needed to keep it together but he wasn’t doing a good job at it. There was still too much hurt that had lined the walls of who he was as a person. “ So mom and dad got what they wanted still. I’m not surprised. “ Arkin replied mentally kicking himself for still being an absolute terror, but unable to stop his mouth from running. “ must make them proud “ @drjuliasato