#and then they say cool all done have you signed up to be an organ donor yet?

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: submissive!Haechan x Dom!gn!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Handjob. Noona kink. Edging. Praise kink.

| wc: 2.5k

| aurora's note: say goodbye to mine and @hisunflower's sanity!

Haechan took his skin care seriously— Not more so than Mark, truth be told, but certainly more so than other people. It was mesmerizing watching him complete his ritual every morning and every evening. The care he put into it, the time it took, the love he had for doing the same thing over and over again every day just to have some semblance of a routine when things as an idol could get so chaotic on a whim. You liked watching him go about his morning and evening regime.

In the morning, he’d wake up early— More so than you preferred since his alarm also woke you up even though you didn’t have to get ready until hours later; However, waking up to the sound of his alarm always gave you the chance to feel him shifting around next to you to reach for his phone and turn off his alarm before turning back to you to kiss your cheek. You always smiled to yourself when he did that. He didn’t have to go out of his way to kiss you first thing in the morning, but Haechan admitted one time when you asked about it that his favorite thing was waking up every morning next to you, so he always felt like he had to show his appreciation for such a gift.

After shuffling out of bed, Hyuck would trudge to the bathroom where he would start the shower to let it heat up while he stripped off his pajamas and set out all of his skin care on the counter. There was so much of it that he had to keep it organized under the sink or else your bathroom would be overrun by his belongings, leaving no room for your toothbrush and toothpaste. Once he was ready and the steam from the shower was fogging up the mirror, he’d step under the water and begin his shower routine, which wasn’t so simple like the ungodly “3-in-1” bottles at the grocery store. While the water was still hot, he would wash his body with scented soaps— Hyuck took his perfumes seriously. Sometimes he would shave. Most times not. Shaving only happened if he had performances or photo shoots coming up; Other than that, he kept his happy trail just for you since you loved it so much. Then Haechan would cool the water just slightly so that he could begin washing it with a shampoo that helped make it as soft and fluffy as it was, and it prevented hair loss due to all the hair dye and hair gel he had to apply over the years. As he approached the end of his shower, Haechan would force himself to wake up with icy cold water. You could never shower with him because of that. His conditioner protected his hair even more and gave it that silky final touch. But just to make sure, Hyuck used a hair care product meant for hair growth and softness. He really cared about making sure his hair was soft.

By the time he was out of the shower, you were up, starting the coffee pot in the kitchen and pulling out a protein bar and banana for him to eat either on the way to work or once he would arrive. To let the steam out, Haechan would open the bathroom door. You took that as your sign that it was safe to bother him finally.

“Are you getting lunch with Renjun today?” you asked, taking a seat on the counter.

Haechan nodded before applying his shaving cream to his chin and above his upper lip.

“M’kay.”

Usually you and Hyuck got lunch together, but you understood that he had plans, so you’d stay home or get something quick near the apartment.

You watched silently as Haechan began shaving slowly, leaning over the counter to make sure he could see clearly since he didn’t want to bother with glasses or contacts yet. When he was done, he quickly washed his face to get rid of the leftover shaving cream.

“When’s your next team dinner with ilichil?”

Haechan began shaking his skin care bottles to mix up the ingredients. “Next Friday. We’re getting chicken and beer at that place in Gangnam— You know, the one with the cheese and bread chicken?” You nodded. “Yeah, that one. Then we’re gonna drink at Doyoung’s place.”

“What? No one wants to carry him home again from the bar?” you teased.

“Fuck no.”

As the water ran, Haechan leaned over the sink and began washing his face with soap prescribed to him by his dermatologist.

“At least you don’t have to also deal with drunk Taeyong now.”

Haechan gulped. “Yeah…”

It wasn’t as funny as you meant it to be, so you fell silent again while he applied a foam based product also prescribed to him— In fact, everything sitting on the counter was prescribed by one person or another. Idol things.

Bottles and bottles of different skin care were pulled forward for use then pushed back to be set to the side to signal the end of their use. You watched intently the entire time. The way Haechan’s palms made sure his entire face was covered in the products, his fingers brushed his wet hair out of his face whenever it fell forward due to gravity, and the towel on his hips slowly falling down… You were enchanted by him. He was doing mundane morning shit, yet you were so in love with him that you thought he was the prettiest man on Earth. You wished he didn’t feel the need to wear make up— Or that the company wouldn’t make him do it just because he was an idol. He was perfect the way he was. His moles were so cute, you had to kiss them almost every night when you two would cuddle in bed. The pimples on his face were addicting to stare at— You knew that he hated them, of course, but, fuck, you loved them so much. “But the skin care’s supposed to get rid of them,” he’d argue with a pout. “They’ll go away eventually, Hyuck, don’t worry.” And he’d pout some more while you kissed his blemishes.

“Do you wanna get dinner tonight?” he asked, squeezing toothpaste onto his tooth brush.

You swung your feet back and forth in front of you while staring at his cheeks. “Sure. We can go to the market out by Kyung Hee University, get some street food?”

He nodded with a smile.

It’d been a while since the two of you went out for street food. You could really only get away with it in the winters since everyone was so bundled up to fight the cold that no one looked twice at the two of you, wondering if the man hiding under layers of clothes, a hat, and a mask was an idol or not.

Hyuck began brushing his teeth aggressively, his cheeks hollowing out around the brush while trying to prevent any toothpaste from dripping down his freshly shaved chin. His moles… The pimples… His wet hair… His soft stomach… The towel that was barely hiding anything of him now… Fuck, you couldn’t help yourself—

You slid off the counter, catching Haechan’s attention who raised a brow at you as you walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his shoulder. His continued to watch you with confusion. A kiss to his shoulder that drifted up to his neck, and your hands laying flat on his lower stomach, thumbs pushing into the plushness of it, that gave him more answers than if you would’ve told him straight up, “Sorry, you’re irresistible, let me use you for a few minutes.”

He mumbled while still brushing his teeth, “I gotta leave soon.”

You didn’t entertain him with a reply. Instead, you left a hickey on his neck. Hyuck hissed at the feeling and tried to squirm out of your grasp, but you held true, hands drifting down to finally remove his towel completely. He was already getting hard. It wasn’t difficult to get Haechan worked up, truth be told. Your touch on his body was always so tempting, how could he not give into every single one of his fantasies around you? When you took his length in one of your hands, Haechan hesitated, his mouth agape, threatening to spill some of his toothpaste. He stared at you through the mirror. You were so preoccupied with leaving a hickey that you couldn’t pull away to look back at him completely, but seeing you glance at him through your lashes made his knees weak. His cock pulsed in your hand. He was getting harder. There was no going back.

But he was still going to be late for work. So Hyuck, against his better judgment, continued brushing his teeth, albeit with a lot more caution, like he was waiting for you to make another sudden move that would paralyze him. Of course you did just that. Your hand slowly worked its way along his length, starting down at his base before dragging up to his sensitive tip, which you teased with your thumb, forcing Haechan to abandon the thought of holding his toothbrush so that he could catch himself on the counter before he could completely topple over. He let out a gasp, but his teeth stayed gritted against the plastic handle of his toothbrush.

“You’re too cute, baby,” you cooed in his ear.

Haechan bucked in your hand in an attempt to get away from the brutal stimulation over his tip. You indulged him slightly by transferring your attention to jerking him off fast. His knees buckled under his weight, but thanks to your arms still wrapped around him and his hands pressed against the bathroom counter, he hardly faltered, allowing you to continue pleasuring him.

“Noona,” he croaked into his toothbrush.

You grinned against his skin. Fuck, he smelled so good. And he was so soft after his shower… Fuck, you would keep him trapped in bed all day with you if you could. It killed you to have to let him go eventually.

The sound of your hand pumping the length of his cock echoed throughout the bathroom. The heat of his heavy breath and his skin heating up against yours started fogging the mirror up again. When you looked at him again, he was red, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and his thighs were trembling while he tried to balance his weight against your body. He looked so cute when he was overwhelmed.

“I just… I just showered… I can’t… We can’t make a mess…” His words were so gargled it was hard to make it out, but you knew what he meant.

“I like making a mess of you, though, pretty boy,” you replied seductively. You grabbed his cheeks, reveling in the way his skin texture felt against the pads of your fingers. “Watch yourself.”

Hyuck gulped.

He looked so pretty with a clean face that was a bit redder than usual, aside from what was caused by sex hormones, because of how much he’d been messing with it during his morning routine. His pimples were a bit irritated. They were angry with him for applying so many counter-measurements that would attack them until they were gone. You savored that moment. Both of you watching his naked body through the mirror as you jerked him off and he struggled in your grasp the closer he got to the edge. Poor thing was already dripping pre-cum which was ultimately to your benefit since it acted as lubricant to ease your quick motions.

Haechan grabbed your wrist with one of his hands, championing for you to go even faster, but you fought him on it, immediately stopping what you were doing. He moaned, the toothbrush falling out of his mouth and onto the counter.

“Please!” he cried out.

“Behave yourself.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry… Please… Let me cum. Please.”

“I will, I will,” you cooed in his ear before kissing behind it.

Slowly, after he released your wrist, you started up again slowly, showing special attention to his dripping tip. You shushed him calmly. Yet Haechan was adamant about chasing his orgasm, so he tried his best to trick you into fisting him faster while making it look like he wasn’t doing a single thing; Although it was clearly obvious to you what he was doing. Still, it was kind of cute watching him struggle… You liked seeing his face contort through the emotions of trying to control himself and feeling an overwhelming amount of pleasure. You could feel his stomach tensing under the hold of your arm.

“So fucking pretty… Smell so good too… And your hair’s gonna be so fluffy today once it dries, I can just tell already…”

Haechan blushed.

“You like that? Being told how perfect you are?”

He tried to hide his face from you, but you continued to make him look in the mirror. Your thumb drifted gently over one of his moles. Ah, fuck, you could’ve cum on the spot…

“Noona,” he mumbled, still trying to hold in the tooth paste sloshing in his mouth.

You teased him with a hum of faux confusion.

“C-c-close—”

With a confident grin, you finally said to him the magic words he had been dying to hear. “Cum for me.”

Haechan stood on his tip-toes in an effort to aim for the sink to avoid making an annoying mess that one of you would have to clean off the cupboards and the tiles. It kind of worked. As he came, the initial shocks were enough to leak straight into the sink while he moaned loudly, his cock twitching in your hand. When coming down from his high, however, it began to pathetically dribble onto the counter, then down his cock. He groaned one last time before settling flat on his feet.

“You made a mess, silly,” you told him, swiping up the toothpaste that had been running down his chin and collecting at the corners of his mouth. Haechan looked up just in time to have you putting your finger in his mouth, forcing him to clean up the toothpaste. “Can’t let any go to waste.” He whined pathetically around your finger. “Good boy.”

Once you released him, Haechan relied on his hold on the counter to keep him upright as he was finally able to spit out everything into the sink while catching his breath. You stole one last kiss from him, aiming directly for the moles on his cheek just so you could see him fluster up one more time before you escaped the bathroom to climb back into bed.

[alottiegoingon]

golden rule

lucy maclean x gn!reader

summary: you become lucy's only friend in wasteland.

warnings: weapon usage/mentions, brief blood mention, wasteland and life outside the vault, lucy is naive and oblivious at first and a hot mess later, mostly just fluff, golden retriever lucy & black cat reader type of shit, kinda enemies/strangers to secret in lover with each other, reader is hot i wanna date them but also a loser if you see through them, no nsfw, not proofread

"just give it a thought, alright? we could help each other."

"why would i want you for a company? no offense, princess, but i don't associate with vault dwellers." you take a look at her from head to toes, studying the details in her jumper. despite how cool her pistol looked attached to her belt like that, the yellow and blue choice was kind of goofy, you thought.

you can see the excitement in her eyes disappearing as she hears you and you almost felt sorry for her. almost. "okay, ouch." she tilts her head, crossing her arms. in a second, her dramatic act gave place to a smug smile. "oh, i know! what if i help you to find the head?"

even your own bitterness left your soul as you hear her. you pause for a moment, searching for any sign of unseriousness in her face. maybe it was just a bad joke? but then, she keeps staring at you with those huge eyes and a not so subtle smile, proud of what she had said.

"i'm sorry, a head? you mean someone's head?" you frown. "i don't know what you vault people think of us but i'm not a monster." you weren't really offended, but seeing the panic in her face was actually princeless.

"what? no, no! i was just- everyone wants that head and i thought you-" she starts to ramble, not wanting to offend you. her beam went away as fast as it reached her face. you almost felt bad for her twice in a row now.

you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and allowed a smirk to creep onto your lips. she immediately stopped talking and, even though she exhaled relief, you knew that deep down she wanted to kill you but was too kind for that.

"oh. you were messing with me. funny." she gives you a forced dry laugh. it was actually annoying how she tried to be so nice all the time.

as a response, you give her a nonchalant wry smile. "anyway. i'm not looking for a dog right now, so..." you sigh, reaching for the heavy backpack on the floor and sliding it onto your shoulders. "but good luck with the head or whatever it means." you wink at the stranger and turn around to leave.

"wait! please." she grabs your wrist before you could take the first step and in response, you turn around again impatiently, glancing down at her tight grip on your skin. it takes her a while to realize that she's still holding you but as soon as she does, she immediately looks at your wrist as well and let go of it. "sorry." she whispers.

you were ready to interrupt her but, curiously, you felt bad when seeing how insanely desperate she was. it wouldn't hurt to just hear what the had to say, right?

"i've been having a rough week, okay? everyone i've met tried to kill me, except for you. a weird..." she pauses, thinking "robot, or whatever, tried to harvest my organs out and i had to cut someone's head off. and i may not be the strongest or the most experienced person but i can learn!" she was truly putting on her best show while you stood in front of her completely unbothered. at least, you liked to think that you were a complete fearless and tough person. "just... please?"

against all odds, you didn't deny it immediately. and, if you didn't deny it immediately, you knew what it meant. fuck, when did you become such a softie? it could be, of course, the way her hair looked pretty even in a messy ponytail or how the cut on her lip made her look so incredibly ho-

"okay, fine. whatever." that idiot creepy huge smile of hers spread on her face again before you could even finish. "listen up, i'm not done." you roll your eyes. "we'll do things my way, get it? you speak when i speak, you shoot when i shoot, you walk when i walk." you take steps closer to her while you talk. firm, hoarse and assertive tone. you stop when you feel the tip of her nose almost touching yours, keeping the steady the eye contact intact. you were so busy initimidating her that you don't even notice when she hold her breath.

"you are my shadow." you reach up for her face, cupping her chin with your thumb and index finger, forcing her to look back at you. "you don't exist unless i tell you to. do you understand me?" you stated with a piercing gaze.

you thought it was impossible for her eyes to get any bigger but when you step out of your scary platform, you notice her terrified expression. "okey dokey..." she nods frantically.

you gotta admit it. she didn't seem as goofy as before while paying attention to you so devotedly like that. even when still wearing that ridiculous jumper.

eventually, you realize that your eyes were betraying you by staring at her for a little too long. you clean your throat, trying to cover that up. "good. let's go now. we can't stay here forever." you step back and start to walk away, not even waiting for her to join you.

you hear her hasty footsteps getting closer as she tries to catch up to you until she finally shares your pace. "i'm lucy, by the way. lucy maclean." she held her head high, corners of her mouth going up again. god, she smiled a lot.

"good for you. i'm still gonna call you princess, though."

"not to brag, cause that would be impolite of me, but i found a really cool place when i was looking for a river this morning." lucy's smiling from ear to ear and excitedly rocking from side to side is the first thing you see when you open your eyes after a tough night of sleep.

a week had passed since you met lucy. no matter how tough you considered yourself to be, lucy was persistent, charming, sweet and funny enough to make her way to your heart and you knew that you were doomed. deep down, you were suspicious that she knew that as well.

"why are you always so happy?" you groan, rubbing your eyes. unlike lucy, you were not a morning person. or a night person. or any time of the day person.

"good morning to you too, sunshine!"

you are forced to get up, not being actually opposed to it, and take a short sip from your last water bottle. maybe taking a look at lucy's oh so great place would be useful.

"okay then. let's do it, princess." you use your hands to brush the remains of sand and dust out of your pants but lucy's cute giggle prevents you from heading out of the shelter you had found.

lucy approaches you with her usual polite and sweet grin and you unconsciously flinch as she stops just a few inches from you and touch you. predictable, she was gentle while brushing the top of your hair with her fingers, fixing the bundle of messy strands that merged together while you were sleeping and added a funny volume to your head. you follow every move of her with darting eyes and an uncontrollable urge to admire her green eyes focused on your hair and reddish parted lips.

"there you go. pretty as always." lucy coos and before withdrawing herself, her fingers slid down by a few inches and casually tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. for the first time in ages, you froze.

thankfully, lucy didn't seem to notice how affected you were by her innocent act. "thanks." you whispered in a ridiculously soft grin and followed her out of the shelter.

"why do you have a gun if you don't like using it? that's stupid." you tease lucy while you two walked side by side, following the train track to the place she had mentioned.

"i do use it. just when i have no other option. you know, because of the golden rule." she shrugs, proudly, proceeding to explain it to you.

you really tried to not care or call it dumb, but instead, you snorted in amusement. "you are way too naive, you know that?"

a dilapidated house.

lucy's incredible and cool place was nothing but a whole junk. everything was falling apart and, judging by how empty it was, many others were there before you.

"it looked cool from the outside..." she explains herself while scratching the back of her neck.

you were strong. firm. scary and ruthless even. you would shove a knife on anybody's throat if they wasted your time like that, especially after a terrible night of sleep. but, again, it wasn't anybody. it was her.

so, funny or not, you laughed.

"god, you are such a terrible explorer." you take a quick peek at her with the corner of your eyes, wearing an idiotic and foolish smirk on your lips.

"i am not!" her jaw drops and her voice sounds whinier as she defends herself but giggle along with you, not feeling scared to be vulnerable and fully stare at you.

you didn't have to answer to that. all you did was look back and forth at her and the house, proving your point.

"okay, you got me there." she looks down, dramatically pouting and pretending to feel so insulted. "but at least i made you smile. looks good on you." lucy's lips twitch in a shy grin.

"maybe i should smile more, then. if you like it." you boldly murmur, surprised at yourself for saying that. you could swear that lucy's face got almost entirely red but you didn't have enough time to appreciate it or figure if it was real.

"look at those cute lovebirds. love has returned to wasteland, gentlemen." a tall, sturdy middle-aged man mocks you to two other creepy looking guys. one was even missing an eye. in two seconds, you were able to count how many weapons they had and your first thought was the possibility of lucy getting hurt.

you quickly stood in front of her, shielding her from any kind of possible danger.

everthing happened too fast after that. all you remember is denying their offer to take your backpacks with the remains of food and water you had and all of your weapons.

everything went black for a second as your body hit the ground. you slowly manage to get on your knees and look around but lucy isn't there and you are trapped. you feel a sharp pain as you breathe in and a drop of blood hits your pants. you shudder at the moment you cautiously feel your cheek, warm to the touch and stinging like you were poked by a thousand needles. your fingertips carefully drop to your mouth and you hiss as you touch the wide cut on your swollen lower lip.

you notice the crisp click of the gun's trigger being released and you look up, expecting to see the weapon pointed at your head. instead, you see the men with their hands above their heads.

"get away from them!" lucy's voice fills your ears and you turn your head back to find her with a huge weapon in hands pointed at the strangers. she takes a quick glance at you and you see the anger inside her overflow as she notices your wounds.

"i'm gonna count to three and i want your ugly, filthy and miserable roaches out of my face or... or i'll shoot!" judging by her tone, you can easily notice how nervous she is even though she's trying her best to actually stand up for you.

and the thought of being protected by someone made your heart flutter. you weren't bothered by the aching pain in your lip when you found yourself proudly smiling at her.

the big guy seemed to notice the tension in her voice and took a step closer to you. you could only imagine how badly he had regretted that as soon as a loud bang echoed through the entire house and his foot was hanging by a thread, quite too literally.

"oh, golly..." lucy mutters with widen eyes. you follow her shock with a gasp that was completely muffled by the loud and agonized screech.

"don't make me repeat myself! all of you out, now!" she yells, threatening them by aiming the gun at them once more. "if that's okay with you, please." the scary expression in her face swiftly changed to a well-mannered and soft grin.

the injured men is rushedly dragged out by the other two, not looking back and you can not believe that someone as adorable looking as lucy was the one to broke her dear rule and hurt people.

"thank you! t-take care." she waves at them innocently, still with the gun in hands before running to you.

[bottlehawk]

hs kids' first day on the earth c minecraft survival server

jake: starts digging straight down as soon as he spawns. keeps digging. keeps digging. keeps digging. no one ever sees him again

jane: enters ready to get everyone organized. half the server immediately runs off doing their own thing. stops the remaining crew before they wander off so they can start building a base before it turns to night. gives everyone roles and then has to go afk because she was on her lunch break and is actually playing minecraft on her company computer. comes back hours later and finds the entire server on fire.

karkat: gets a stone hoe and some wheat seeds thrown at him and is told to set up a wheat farm. nods even though he's never played minecraft before and doesn't know how. clicks the ground with the hoe and it seems to do something so he does that for a while. dave comes over and asks him why he's been just plowing the ground in one really long straight line. tells him to fuck off so he does. wishes he hadn't when he realizes he could've asked him for help. figures out that if you click on the ground with the seed it plants it and decides he's actually a minecraft genius and doesn't need anybody's help at all. dusts his hands off proud of the work he's done and then goes to try to find kanaya.

kanaya: is given a stone axe and is told to chop down some wood for the houses. does and gives roxy some stacks and goes to chop down some more wood because she honestly finds it kind of therapeutic. ends up clearing an entire mountain. night comes and mobs start sprouting up and she chops them down too. is surrounded by fields of floating rotten flesh and bones and cursed armor when suddenly she sees flames in the distance near the base. starts marching down there with the grim resolution of an executioner, ready to now start chopping some necks.

terezi: learns how to craft a flint and steel and discovers the magic of fire. laughs maniacally as she starts burning cows she runs into and laughs even more when she discovers they drop cooked meat. wants to find more things to burn. finds a raider's base and the sound of the wood torching up into flames does something to her and she starts setting fire to the entire forest. stumbles across the base. sets fire to one of the buildings. karkat comes over and yells and asks what the fuck she's doing. sets karkat on fire. laughs as she watches him run in circles not knowing how to stop the flames. suddenly gets murked by kanaya who's sneaked up behind her, and continues being hunted down by her as she respawns for the rest of the night.

jade: wanders off and finds a cute little village. decides that she's adopting it now. places some flowers she's picked along the way around to make it look nice and pretty. tames and places some cats around the perimeter and puts some torches nearby to keep away mobs. builds a water fountain in the middle of the town square. waves goodbye to go find some wolves to tame and promises that she'll be back.

dave: builds elaborately detailed dirt penises all over the farm while karkat works and negs him. karkat tells him to fuck off and go do something useful. fucks off accordingly and finds jade's village. raids everything from the chests and all the crops. puts dirt dicks all over the place. kills the cats for string and free exp. kills some sheep and creates beds and pushes some of the villagers inside a shitty little acacia building he made with a sign on it saying "breeding pen". throws some potatoes at them and then blocks up the entrance. turns around and immediately gets blown up by a creeper.

calliope: is the only one given op privileges as she is the only one that everyone can trust to have it. decides she wants to build a big cool glass castle in the sky. has just finished building the base when jade types in chat that whoever destroyed her village is going to pay. types "oh no!!!" in the chat. gets a dm from dave asking her for sanctuary because jade is going to KILL him. remembers that he's made NFTs. sends jade screenshots of the exact incriminating parts in the server log and happily continues building her castle.

rose: has debug screen turned on. immediately crafts several stone axes. runs off to the nearby desert and finds a desert temple and raids it, crafting an iron bucket. fills it with water and goes to a lava pool and builds a nether portal. enters the nether. speed bridges over to a nether fortress and makes a wither skeleton farm and proceeds to grind for ~3-4 hours. collects enough wither skulls. readies her bow and summons the wither and starts using its detonating blasts to mine down for ancient debris.

roxy: tried to convince everybody at the beginning to download 727378282 mods to make the server "more FUN!!". was unsuccessful. gets told to make some houses and beds for the base so she does. looks for other things to do and finds karkat's wheat farm and is flabbergasted. why is it in one long straight line. there isn't even any water. where is the water? tells john to go get her some redstone while she fixes it up so she can automate it.

john: not sure what to do. roxy tells him to start mining for redstone ("its red and shiny lol you wont have to dig that far"). digs straight down into a cave. realizes he forgot to get wood but decides to go on anyway. uses up all his stone pickaxes mining copper because he doesn't know what it is and it looks cool. hits a slime and it divides into more slimes and he freaks out and runs away with two hearts. keeps running and finds a door in the side of the cave wall. opens it. wanders around in a cool maze and then enters a weird room with some yellow and green chest like boxes. suddenly gets attacked by a little bug making a screechy sound and panics and dies.

dirk: rounds up some animals into pens for the base and then busts out a boat and a fishing pole to try to get them a book of mending. is chilling in the middle of the ocean and then sees that dave gets blown up by a creeper in chat. asks if he's okay and if he needs someone to come over. sees that karkat got killed by terezi. sees that terezi got killed by kanaya. asks what is going on. is now rowing back towards base. jade types that her village has been destroyed. jane has logged on and is asking why the entire base is on fire. is crafting buckets and filling them with water. sees that rose got an achievement for summoning the wither. texts her "Dude did you just summon the Wither???". rose ominously replies "I've got it handled." sees john got killed by a silverfish and roxy asking when the hell john found the stronghold. jake gets a cheating death with a totem of undying achievement. proceeds to have a total aneurysm.

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part two

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. wc: 3.5k tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear! i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔 i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

[stevie-petey]

episode one: the vanishing of will byers

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you.  “So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?” Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead.

Summary: jonathan smuggles you free food in exchange for friendship, will goes missing the one time you listen to jonathan, hopper doesn't really like you, and steve harrington almost hits you with his car as you're sobbing like a damn baby (in a cool way).

Rating: general, although there's plenty of cursing and slight innuendos, so fair warning.

Warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

Words: 7k

Before you swing in: hello ! this is the first chapter of my come home series, where i plan on rewriting the entirety of stranger things because i really love a good rewrite fic and this is me just indulging in my ideal fic fantasies tbh. before we start: this is a steve x reader fic, however there will be some slight feelings between the reader and jonathan, but it doesn't at all get in the way of steve and honestly just adds to the angst because i love a good tragedy. also, reader is dustin's older sister, but i tried to write her as neutral as possible in terms of physical features, so let's all just play along. that is all ! i'm very excited for this series and i hope y'all enjoy the reader as much as i do :)

-

November 6th, 1983

Your shift at Bookstrordinary ends at 8:30 tonight, so as soon as you’ve organized all the books within the store and cashed out the last customer, you say goodnight to your boss, Mrs. Waters, and clock out. Today had been a longer shift, and it didn’t help that you had to deal with a particularly eager bookclub mother who insisted that you had the latest copy of some obscure novel that she needed for her club. After several attempts to inform her that no, you really didn’t have some novel about a cowboy falling in love with a rodeo girl from Michigan, nor would you ever want to read that, the mother angrily walked away. 

You’re happy to finally be free from work though, excited to see Jonathan to tell him about the book club mom because you know he gets a kick out of those suburban middle class mothers that terrorize Hawkins. He works across from you, at The Hawk theater, and it’s one of your favorite things about the bookstore. Besides getting to be surrounded by books all day and reading Spider-Man, you get to be across the street from your best friend and share frequent breaks together. 

A bell signifies your arrival at the theater, alerting Jonathan to look up from the concession stand and smile at you. He looks tired, which you can understand. It’s been a particularly long school year so far with Jonathan having to work more shifts than usual to support his family. 

“Welcome to The Hawk, can I interest you in our specialty popcorn and candy corn mixture?”

You make a face, “No, thanks. Candy corn freaks me out.” 

Jonathan laughs, knowing you’d say that. It’s been a running joke between the two of you for as long as you can remember. You’re not picky with most foods, but candy corn? The bane of your existence. “Tough crowd, then.” 

You laugh as well, now standing in front of the counter, and you learn against it so that you’re in Jonathan’s space. After being friends for so long, personal space doesn’t exist between the two of you. You’re the only person that Jonathan lets get this close to him on a regular basis, which you’re secretly proud of. 

“So, you almost done so we can pick up our idiotic brothers?” Tonight, as usual, Will and Dustin are at Mike’s house playing DnD. They’d biked over as soon as school let out, while Jonathan drove you to work, so he was your ride back for the night. 

He shakes his head at you, wincing, “I picked up an extra shift tonight. Stacy called out sick, and it’s good money…”

You nod in understanding. He doesn’t have to explain himself to you, which he’s always relieved by. 

“It’s okay. Is my bike still in your trunk?” 

“Yeah, I can get it out for you since I’m kind of ditching you tonight.” 

You wave him off, already reaching across the counter to grab his keys from his coat pocket. “No need, I’ll get it out myself so you don’t get in trouble with your boss.” Jonathan’s boss is an older guy, extra scary. “I’m assuming that I’m taking Will home tonight?” 

“It’ll be late by the time you get the boys, and you’ll have Dustin. We only live a couple blocks apart, you can just bike with Will until you get to your street.”

“Are you sure? I know he’s scared of the dark.” 

“It’s fine, Y/N. You’re already doing enough being there for most of the ride; I’m sure Will can survive the last five minutes alone.” 

You give Jonathan an unsure look, but you don’t argue with him. He’s his brother, he knows Will’s capabilities, and it’s an unspoken fact that you baby Will a bit too much. He’s just so much tinier than the other boys, softer in a way that you want to protect. He’s special. 

Jonathan sneaks you a large peach lemonade and hot dog from the concession stand when you return with his keys. You’ve parked your bike up front, and you accept the food gratefully. You hadn’t had time to eat your usual dinner during your break due to the bookclub mother fiasco, so you inhale the food quickly and give his hair a ruffle. 

“You’re a lifesaver, bee.” 

Jonathan lightly hits your hand away from his hair. “Consider it your payment for dealing with Will and Dustin on your own tonight, bug.” 

Bee and bug were the names the two of you had given each other years ago. Jonathan had started it with bug, stemming from the fact that you love Spider-Man so much, and you had struggled to come up with your own nickname for him. Then it came to you: bee, or B, for Byers. It was perfect, and you’re still incredibly proud of yourself for the creativity, honestly. 

After your quick dinner, you say goodbye to your friend and head off. It’s late now, nearing 9, and you hope that Mrs. Wheeler and your own mom won’t be too upset with you for being late for pick up. You know they prefer to have the boys in bed by a decent hour, but in your defense, Jonathan did skip out on you.

You arrive at the Wheeler’s in a short amount of time and knock on the door. Your cheeks are flushed from the early November cold, and you’re regretting that you only put on a thin sweater and jeans this morning.

Mike answers the door, giving you a dirty look. “Did you have to come early?”

“I’m actually later than usual,” you sidestep him, making your way into his house; you’ve become used to Mike’s attitude. “I take it the campaign is still ongoing?”

“See, mom? Even Y/N understands how long a good campaign can go on for!” Mike waves his arms at you, as if to signify to his mother the importance of your understanding. 

Mrs. Wheeler ignores her son to greet you kindly, albeit a bit exasperated. “Hello, Y/N, please come in.” Then she turns to Mike, giving him a stern look. “Mike, why don’t you tell Y/N how you boys have been playing for ten hours? I’m sure she’ll be understanding then.” 

“You guys have been playing for ten hours?”

Mike looks down in embarrassment for a second before turning to his father for help. You laugh a bit at his enthusiasm and see a faint smile on his mom’s face as well. Quietly you excuse yourself to go downstairs to find the other boys, and Mrs. Wheeler wishes you luck. 

Everyone always acts like the boys are some giant pain; truthfully, you enjoy them. Sure, they can be a handful, but they’re just kids; it’s hard for you to ever stay mad at them. Plus they like you, so it makes dealing with them easier. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Will are running around the basement when you get down there, frantically searching for something. You hear Lucas inform Will that if Mike doesn’t see something, then it doesn’t count. The urgence in his voice amuses you; you’ll never fully wrap your head around why they take DnD so seriously, but you love that they can enjoy it with each other. 

Dustin is the first to see you. “Y/N!”

The other boy’s heads turn to you and they greet you with enthusiasm as well. Will rushes towards you for a hug, which you gladly accept. When you break apart, Lucas gives you a high five and asks about a comic you’ve put on hold for him at the store. 

“Any luck?”

“Sorry, Sinclair. It’s still sold out, but the second it’s restocked I’ll smuggle one for you.” 

“Sick!” 

Dustin walks over, now in his coat and holding a pizza box. “Want a slice?” 

You decline, informing him that Jonathan snuck some food for you. At the mention of his brother’s name, Will asks where he is. You tell him that Jonathan had to cover a shift and that you’ll be taking him most of the way home tonight. 

As you all make your way upstairs, you notice that Dustin continues up to the second floor. Lucas notices too, and the two of you share a knowing look. 

“Still have a crush on Nancy?” You ask, already knowing the answer. 

“Yup.” Lucas responds, smiling in disappointment. 

You wait for your brother outside, helping Will with his coat and listen to Mike’s rambling about the campaign. Lucas is already on his bike, ready to go. 

“There’s something wrong with your sister.” Dustin declares when he finally returns.

Mike looks at you, then at your brother, confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“She’s got a stick up her butt.” 

“Dustin!” You berate. Nancy isn’t your favorite person, but she’s always been nice to you the few times you’ve interacted. You guys used to be closer when you were younger, but high school has a way of distancing people.

“Yeah,” Lucas now speaks up. “It’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” How the hell does Lucas even know about that? You didn’t even know about that until just now. 

“Lucas! Language!” 

“Yeah, she’s been turning into a real jerk.”

“Dustin, I swear to God-” 

The boys ignore you, which you’re honestly not surprised by. While they may like you, that doesn't mean that they listen to you. On a good day they maybe listen to you 25% of the time, but tonight was clearly not a good night. 

Mike finally cuts in, “She’s always been a real jerk.”

“Hey, she’s your sister. Give her some credit-”

Dustin is now the one who cuts you off. “Nuh-uh, only you get the sister leniency, Y/N. Nancy used to be cool, now she isn’t.” 

“Remember that time she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign?” Lucas asks, almost reminiscent. 

You shudder at the way he says it, and you shudder more when you see the dreamy look in your brother’s eyes. “Yeah, I remember…” 

“Gross,” you huff at your brother, now hopping on your own bike. 

Lucas and Dustin begin to pedal away, and you call after them to wait up. Will is still with Mike, and you promised Jonathan you’d get him home. You give the boys a bit of space, waiting a few paces ahead. Will has always been shy around Mike, something that you’ve tried not looking into too much, but to be safe you give them some privacy. 

Faintly, you hear Will say, “The Demogorgon, it got me.” 

Lights flicker a bit, but you’re too focused on the slight unease you feel by Will’s words. Before you can think too much about them, he joins you. “Race you up to Lucas and Dustin?”

“You’re on,” you tell him. 

Will beats you to the boys (which you let him do), and you’re out of breath. The four of you bike in silence for a bit until you reach Lucas’s turn into his neighborhood. 

“Good night, ladies.” He says, and you don’t need to be a psychic to know what your brother’s response is going to be.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Bless him.

You and Will giggle together, and Dustin smirks at the two of you, proud. He sits in the praise for a few moments before challenging you and Will to race home with the promise of a comic for whoever wins. 

“I call last year’s Black Cat issue of Spider-Man!” You call out, already biking away from the boys. 

“We didn’t say go!”

Dustin and Will call after you as they try to catch up, and within a few seconds the three of you are speeding down the hill towards your home. You laugh gleefully, enjoying the way the wind whips through your hair and the way Dustin, though annoyed by your early start, laughs alongside you with Will. 

Somehow Will is the one who wins the race, which you’re impressed by. He may be small, but he’s surprisingly good at winning when it comes to a competition. Dustin shouts at Will that he’ll kill him, which makes you send a warning look at him. 

“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” Will retaliates, still flying through the street. 

You and Dustin are now stopped at your mailbox and you take a moment to catch your breath before shouting at Will, “Be careful, please! Stay safe!”

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night. Dustin has already gone inside but you wait to follow, only going inside when you can no longer see Will, hopefully home safe and sound. You feel fear creep upon you, but you chalk it up to your usual worry when it comes to the boy. 

He’ll be okay, Jonathan should be home within the hour. 

– 

The next morning you’re frantically biking to school, pissed off at Jonathan. He’s your ride every morning, or everywhere, really, and for the second time in 24 hours he’s bailed on you. Dustin left for school ages ago on his bike, so you’re thankful he doesn’t see you embarrassingly sweaty and gross as you race to school. 

It’s not that you’re pissed that Jonathan bailed again, you’re pissed because he didn’t even have the nerve to call you ahead of time to warn you. Now you have only ten minutes before the first bell rings, and your sweater clings to you uncomfortably as you sweat. 

You make it to school with a few minutes to spare, so you quickly make your way over to your locker to grab the necessary books for the day. You’re still sweaty, and you don’t want to even think about what your hair looks like right now. You look down the hall towards Jonathan’s locker, still not seeing him, and you begin to worry a bit. Maybe he overslept after last night’s shift? 

A body crashes into yours, sending your notebooks spiraling to the ground. Steve Harrington looks at you sheepishly, only saying a small “whoops!” before continuing his fast pace towards the girl’s bathroom. You scoff, now even more annoyed with your entire morning, picking up your stuff as you see Nancy enter the same bathroom a few moments later. 

“In a public school bathroom?” You mutter in disgust, collecting the last of your things and heading to class. 

You decide to give Jonathan until second period, sophomore English which the two of you share, before you freak out. You know you have a problem with over worrying about the people you love, so you try to calm yourself down. While Jonathan has never been the type to cancel without at least calling first, you reason with yourself that everyone has a bad morning. He simply slept in too late. When he wakes up, he’ll come to school and he’ll be sitting in the seat next to you in English. 

Except Jonathan isn’t in the seat next to yours when you enter the classroom an hour later. Now you officially let yourself begin to worry. Something about this doesn’t feel right. 

You’ve never skipped class before, school has always been important to you. You’re the top of your class with hopes of running away from Hawkins with Jonathan to a big city with an even bigger university. However, you don’t even hesitate to flee the classroom and find the nearest phone in the school to call the Byers’ residence. 

Jonathan answers after a few rings, and the words that leave his lips change your life forever. “Will is missing.”

You feel all the air in your lungs be knocked out of you. You can’t breathe and you sway a bit as your knees threaten to give out. This isn’t real, this can’t be happening. 

“What?”

“Will, he-he’s gone, Y/N. We can’t find him and-” 

You don’t hear whatever else Jonathan says. You struggle to get air back in your lungs. Will isn’t missing, you just saw him last night. Mere hours ago Will laughed next to you, face alive with joy, he hugged you and joked along with you. 

“He didn’t come home last night-”

“He didn’t come home?” Jonathan’s words catch your attention and you feel bile rise in your throat. Will didn’t make it home last night. You were the last one to see him, and the realization crushes you; it’s all your fault. 

“Mom and I just searched the woods, and there’s no sign of him and-” Jonathan is rambling now, his own fear and despair clear in his voice. 

“Jonathan,” you force his name out, now needing to be there for your best friend. You can worry for Will in your own time, right now Jonathan needs you. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” 

“Y/N, you don’t-”

You hang up before Jonathan can argue with you and stumble towards the exit. Your limbs feel heavier than normal, and your ears are ringing. Will is missing. He’s so small, he’s scared of the dark… You left him alone in the dark. 

The bike ride to the Byers home is a blur. You don’t remember much, your body going on autopilot the second you hopped on your bike. You’re running on pure fear and adrenaline right now, too worried for your boys to focus on anything else. 

You don’t bother to knock when you arrive, instead you let yourself in. Joyce is on the phone, arguing with some woman named Cynthia. Your eyes find Jonathan’s, who is sitting on the couch hunched over something. You walk over to him and sit down beside him and your stomach lurches when you see the words “have you seen me?” he’s so neatly printed out on a piece of paper.

“Bee…” you exhale, voice cracking a bit. 

Jonathan doesn’t say anything, but you know him as well as you know yourself. He doesn’t want comforting words right now. You take his hand into yours and lean your head against his shoulder. Worry has made his muscles tense, but you feel him relax into you a bit as he rests his own head against yours. The two of you sit like that for a moment, taking in the comfort you bring each other. 

“Bitch!” Joyce slams the phone down, causing you and Jonathan to jump apart. 

“Mom,”

“What?” Joyce is a mixture of both rage and anxiety, and you feel awful looking at her. Her son is missing, you can’t imagine what she must be feeling right now.

“You have to stay calm.” Jonathan tells her, his voice firm but kind. You know it’s taking everything in him to be as stable as he is right now; he’s putting on a front for his worried mother. You squeeze his hand, hoping it conveys the support and love that you need it to.

He squeezes back, and you see Joyce finally recognize that you’re there as well. She sends you a weak wave, which you return, before she goes back to dialing and trying to reach Lonnie. Jonathan gives your hand one last squeeze and lets go, now returning back to the posters. You immediately understand that he’s doing this to distract himself, so you do the same and wordlessly help him.

You begin writing your own “have you seen me?” when Joyce once again slams her phone down. The sound makes you flinch, inadvertently messing up your writing, which you sigh at. Before you can ask Jonathan for another piece of paper, you hear a car pull up. 

Jonathan stands up to investigate, alerting his mom that the cops are here. You follow after them outside, your heart dropping when you see Will’s bike in the Chief’s hand. He ushers everyone inside, informing Joyce that he found the bike lying in the road.

“How far was it from the house?” You ask, your voice frail. 

The Chief looks at you, his nametag informs you that his name is Hopper, and raises his eyebrows. “And can I know who is asking?” 

You clear your throat, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m Y/N Henderson. I’m close with the Byers, I biked with Will home,” your voice catches in your throat, snagging onto the guilt that has been clawing at you ever since you found out Will was missing. You clear your throat again, determined to continue. “I was with him last night. My brother and I live right off Mirkwood, a few blocks from here. He only had a few more minutes before he would’ve been home.” 

Hopper stares at you. “Mirkwood?”

“It’s where-”

“Yeah, those moron kids explained it to me. I just didn’t think someone your age would call the street that, too.” Then, as an afterthought, Hopper adds, “The bike was found a block from here.”

His words sting, but you ignore it. If the bike was found only a block from the Byers’ home, then that means that something had to have happened to Will only minutes after you last saw him. You feel the familiar churning in your stomach, wracked with guilt. 

“Did it have any blood on it?” Joyce now asks, and you’re thankful she’s taken the attention off of you. 

Jonathan sees your distress and grabs your sweater so that you fall back a bit from the cops and Joyce. “Do you need a minute?”

You can only nod, afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll either cry or throw up. He gently guides you to his room, closing the door. Once you’re alone, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight. You’re shaking harder than ever now, Will’s happy and shining face from last night keeps flashing through your mind. 

You were the last one who ever saw him.

You’re the one who was last responsible for him. 

You.

“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan whispers, his voice muffled by your hair. You’ve always loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, your height difference being just enough that he always rests his chin against your head when he hugs you. 

“I’m the last person who saw him.”

“Y/N, I was the one who asked you to only bike him halfway-”

“No,” your voice comes out louder than you intend it to, and you push Jonathan away. He lets out a confused noise as you grapple at him, forcing him to look directly at you. “I should’ve been with him, Jonathan. It’s your job to support your family, and it’s my job to help you. I have to… I have to be the one who helps you.” 

You’ve always been fascinated by psychology, and you remember reading in one of the journals about codependency; the term was used in relation to addiction, specifically alcoholism, but it had caught your interest. To love someone to the extent that their actions make you feel responsible for them, to selflessly take on their burdens to a debilitating extent, well, it reminded you of your relationship with Jonathan. 

You’ve always taken on whatever Jonathan has had to deal with, ever since you were kids, and it’s always come so naturally to you. He’s never asked you to, and sometimes the extent to which you carry his weight angers him, but it’s how you love.

It’s who you are. You’re always the one who helps, it’s what you need to be able to do. If you can’t help the ones you love the most, then what good is your love for them?

Jonathan may not know about codependency, but he knows how hard you love those closest to you. “Bug, listen to me.” He grabs your face, almost aggressively, in order to cut off your rambling. “My mom, she-she’s already spiraling and I can’t… I need you. I need you to be here, with me, right now. If I lose you too, then I-I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His words cut through you like glass. He’s right, you know he’s right, and you feel another wave of guilt wash over you. This guilt is different from the guilt surrounding Will. This is mixed with shame for allowing yourself to spiral so far and forcing Jonathan to take care of you. Joyce is clearly unwell, you can’t fathom how much he’s had to deal with today. 

You gently remove Jonathan’s hands from your face and take a step back. If you’re going to help him, you need to collect yourself. From here on out, you have to be a wall for him to lean on, a shoulder to cry on, someone who will listen to him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jonathan shrugs at you, now allowing a hesitant smile to cross his face. “If it makes you feel any better, it took a lot less pleading to get through to you. I’m still working on my mom.” 

The joke is foul, one that should make you feel even worse than you already do, because what sixteen year old has to plead with their mother to remind her that he’s there, too? The joke is horrible, and it’s exactly what you need to find yourself laughing, and Jonathan joins. 

Codependency can be a bitch, but Jonathan understands you in ways that no one else can. 

“You think the cops are gone?” You ask, wiping away the remaining tears. 

Jonathan listens for any sign of them and shakes his head. “No, I think we’re all clear.”

He walks out the room first and you follow after him. Joyce is standing in the kitchen, staring at the counter with a far off look in her eyes. You and Jonathan look at each other and you motion for him to go talk to her. He nods, and then you motion to the living room to indicate that you’ll continue working on the missing posters. 

Carefully writing on the posters soothes you, in a way. It’s rhythmic, providing a sense of lull that you readily embrace. You faintly hear Jonathan talking with his mother, then you watch as he leads her to her bedroom and shuts the door. When he returns he sits next to you on the couch and begins to work on the posters as well. No words are needed. 

You work on the posters in silence for a few hours until it nears 3pm. Dustin will be getting out of school soon, and you have to be there for him when he’s home. While Will may be Jonathan’s brother, he’s also your brother’s best friend. You get up and head into the kitchen, long familiar now with its layout and usual contents within the fridge, and quickly prepare the ingredients for spaghetti. It’s a simple meal, but Jonathan and Joyce need to eat. Once it’s all laid out, you return to the living room and tap on your friend’s shoulder. 

“Hey, I have to head out now to check on Dustin, but I just put a pot of water on the stove along with some noodles on the counter. I also cut up some vegetables and put them in the fridge for the sauce. Start the meal whenever, I laid everything out for you.”

“Thank you, really,” Jonathan exhales, relief evident on his face. He hadn’t even thought about dinner, which you figured he wouldn’t. 

You bend down to kiss the top of his head. “Anytime, bee. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” 

“Just…” you linger at the door, not fully wanting to leave him all by himself. “Be careful, please.” 

“Go, Y/N. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Jonathan reassures you.

“I’ll be fine, I promise!” Will’s voice is distant, now a few yards away, and you stand outside for a few more seconds to watch his figure disappear into the night.

It’s brief, but the flashback punches you in the gut. You close your eyes, holding onto the image of Will’s face in the moonlight last night, and when it fades you take a deep breath and force yourself to leave. 

The second you’re on your bike, pedaling away from the house, you let the sobs that have wracked against your throat all day out. It’s messy, the tears coming down your face faster than you can wipe them away. All the fear you’ve felt is now able to freely come out. It’s not the safest way to bike home, but you know that if you hold the tears in any longer you’ll collapse. You do your best to still be alert, but apparently you fail because a BMW honks at you to avoid you hitting it. 

“Fuck!” You yank your bike to the right, having no idea that you had been on the left side of the road, and topple over. The fall isn’t anything bad, but it definitely is your final straw for the day. You lay in the ditch you’ve landed in, staring at the November sky, and let the pain from your skinned knee serve as something to ground you to reality. 

“Holy shit, did I hit you?” 

Steve Harrington stands over you, a horrified look in his eyes. 

“Unfortunately not, otherwise I’d be able to sue you and get money out of it.” 

“Uh… okay?” He offers you his hand, although still very confused. “You didn’t like, happen to hit your head or anything, right?” 

You accept his help, albeit mostly because you have to, and brush yourself off when you’re up. “I’m fine. I just wasn’t paying attention, sorry.” 

Steve nods, as if you almost getting hit by his car makes perfect sense to him. When you walk over to your bike and inspect it for any damage, he follows after you. 

“So,” he whistles, trying to pretend that this is all a completely normal occurrence. “You, uh, need a ride?”

Honestly you don’t know why you’re surprised he hasn’t noticed the clear signs of you crying, your swollen eyes and red nose. Not only is he a boy, but he’s also Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle he even stopped to make sure you weren’t dead. 

“No,” you say, now repositioning your backpack so that you can get back on your bike. “Thanks anyways, Harrington.” 

Steve continues to follow you, even after you’ve started to pedal away. “You’re welcome, random girl I almost hit!”

You’re a bit further now, and you still feel like utter shit, but his words somehow make you laugh a bit. For a brief moment, you forget about everything, so you call behind, “It’s Henderson!” 

“That’s an odd first name!” The boy shouts after you, still following from a distance. 

“Y/N Henderson!” You’re fully yelling now, a good yard away, but you can tell that Steve hears you based on the way he begins to wave eagerly, finally stopping next to his car. Faintly you understand the boyish charm that makes him so loved by all the girls in the school; you understand why Nancy Wheeler has fallen for him.

“Bye, Y/N!” It’s faint, but you swear you can hear a smile in his voice.  

The good mood that Steve Harrington inexplicably puts you in vanishes when you near your house. Nothing has changed, yet it feels as if something has shifted. Will had been here only hours ago. You spot Dustin’s bike laying on the grass, haphazardly thrown as usual. 

Dustin is just taking off his coat when you enter, immediately running over to him to pull him into a bone crushing hug. 

“Y/N!” he squeaks in surprise. 

“Are you okay?” You know you’re squeezing your brother harder than you need to, but God. He’s safe, in your arms, and you’ve now learned that not everyone can say the same about their own loved ones. 

Dustin wiggles a bit, trying to break away from the hug, but you only pull him in tighter. “Geesh, no one died.” 

Normally you’d berate him, but you embrace his snarky comments. They’re what make Dustin so unique, his humor one of your favorite parts of him

When you don’t respond, Dustin stops wiggling around and finally accepts the situation. “I love ya too, sis.” 

You giggle a bit, now pulling away. “At least mom isn’t home right now. The minute she hears about what’s happened, we’ll be on lockdown.”

Dustin’s eyes widen. “Shit, you’re right.” 

“Lan-”

“Language, I know.”

You ruffle his hair, now feeling a bit better. Dustin is still Dustin, so maybe everything will be okay. You and your brother go into the kitchen for your post school snack, and you call your boss to inform her that you can’t make it to your shift. The words “family emergency” catch in your throat a bit, and Mrs. Waters is kind enough not to push it.

Dustin catches you up on his day, informing you about Hopper questioning him and the other boys. 

You scrunch your nose at that. “Is that even legal?”

“Unsure, but it was awesome.”

“Will went missing, Dustin. It isn’t ‘awesome’.”

Dustin tilts his head at you. “Well, I bet Will is going to have a blast hearing everything when we find him.” 

His words are so matter of fact, as if he already knows that Will will be found after all. His naivety worries you a bit, but you also can’t help but indulge in his hope as well. Then you think about what he’s just said. “Wait, who’s ‘we’?”

Your brother pretends he can't hear you, miming at his ears. “Dustin-”

“What?”

“Dustin, you and the boys can’t just-”

“I can’t hear you!” He’s running to his room now with you quick behind his heels. 

“Dustin, I swear to God-”

“I gotta do homework, Y/N, bye!” He slams the door in your face. 

You sigh. There’s no getting through to him, years of being Dustin’s older sister has taught you that, so you go into your room instead. You might as well get started on the assignments you missed today, and you have a huge chem test tomorrow, so you’ll focus on that and keep an ear out for Dustin. Whatever he’s planning with the boys, you won’t let them do it alone. 

After a couple hours of silence from Dustin’s room, you decide to call Jonathan. The line rings for a while with no answer, and eventually you give up. It makes sense that he’s not answering, he’s had a long day. You hope he’s asleep, but you know him better than that. He’s probably holed up in his room, trying to distract himself like you are right now. 

A loud thud from Dustin’s room breaks you from your thoughts. Then you hear a quiet “shhh!” that sounds suspiciously like Lucas, and you immediately throw on your shoes and a jacket and march outside. 

Dustin is halfway out of his window when you arrive, and Mike and Lucas stare at you, caught red handed. 

“Guys, I think she can hear us.” Your brother says, breaking the silence. Mike scoffs at him and Lucas groans. 

You eye the three of them, unamused. “Your best friend just went missing, what the hell are you guys doing out here so late and alone?”

Dustin awkwardly finishes his descent down, finally landing on his feet with a thud. He secures his hat back on his head and goes to grab his bike. You block his path. 

“I’m serious, one of you needs to start talking, now.” 

Lucas and Dustin look at Mike, who is their unofficial leader of the gang, and he huffs. “Look, Y/N, I like you-”

“How thrilling.” You say, voice monotone. 

The boy ignores you and continues to talk. “But Will is missing, and we aren’t just going to sit around and wait. He’s our friend, we have to do something.” 

You open your mouth to speak, but Lucas interrupts you. “You’re definitely our favorite sister in the group, so you’d be even cooler if you let us go.” 

Again, you try to respond, but this time Dustin beats you to it. “Yeah, you’re like, totally cool already. If you pretend that you never saw us, that’d be great.” 

“Guys-”

“And don’t give us a whole lecture about safety. That’s all bull.” Mike says. 

“Boys!” You scream. They all fall silent, not used to you ever raising your voice at them. You’ve only ever yelled at them once or twice, preferring to be the “cool” sister whenever you can, but right now they’re seriously pissing you off. 

“Let me speak.” When no one says anything, you continue. “I’m not going to stop you guys from looking for Will. In fact, I support it-”

“You do?”

You shoot Mike a death glare, which promptly shuts him up. “Yes, I do. However, I’m not letting you guys go alone.” 

The boys all groan at this, acting as if it’s the worst thing in the world to have you tag along with them. You ignore their complaining and head over to where your bike sits against the porch. You zip up your coat, the chill from the night making you shiver a bit. 

“No arguing, or I’ll call all your moms. Ours included, Dustin.”

“Why me?”

“Look, guys. I’m proud of you for stepping up, but I’m coming with. The last time I let one of you boys go off into the woods alone…” 

The boys shift uncomfortably now, realizing how heavy the guilt weighs upon you. After a few beats of silence, Mike finally gives in. 

“Fine,” he says, pointing a finger at you. “But the second you start to freak out, you’re gone.” 

You salute Mike, hopping on your bike as you all begin to bike away. The ride doesn’t take long, since you live just off of where Will was last seen. Thunder rumbles when you all approach the crime scene, and you shudder a bit. 

“It’s going to rain, guys.” You inform them. 

Dustin looks up at the sky with uncertainty. “I think maybe we should go back.”

Mike is quick to shut down the idea, urging the others to keep going. You admire his loyalty to Will, and you figure it’s why the two of you butt heads so often. Out of the entire group, you’re the most similar to him. 

Lucas and Mike go under the caution tape first, and Dustin hangs back. You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We can go back, you know.” 

He clenches his jaw, jutting his chin out a bit. “No, Will needs us.”

Your brother puffs out his chest and follows after his friends, leaving you to take up the rear. More thunder rumbles and the rain begins to come down. You flip your hood up, thankful you remembered to grab a hoodie when leaving. 

Mike guides the way with his flashlight, then Lucas, then Dustin, then you in the back. You make sure to keep your eyes on the three boys, scared that the second you look away they’ll be gone. The woods have always creeped you out, but you push your fear down to keep them safe. 

“Will!” Mike calls out, the rain now pouring down on you guys. 

“Byers!” 

“Will, little bee!” You call out as well. He never liked when you called him that in front of the others, but tonight was an exception. 

“I’ve got your X-Men 134!” Your brother bribes, unintentionally making you laugh a bit. If Will is nearby, he’ll surely come out to claim his prize. 

Your foot catches on a tree log, and you slip in the mud before just barely managing to catch yourself. It’s getting hard to see given how dark it is and the rain surrounding you. Dustin voices his concerns, only to be called a baby, and you bite your tongue. If you defend him, he’ll only look more like a baby to his friends. 

“I’m just being realistic!” He retaliates, which you commend him for. 

“Dustin’s right, guys. It’s getting really bad out here. We’re surrounded by a ton of trees, don’t they attract lightning?” You ask, now paranoid that you’ll be struck down any second. 

“You guys are being sissies.” Lucas taunts, annoyed as well. 

You try to argue, but Dustin voices a thought that’s been at the back of your mind. “Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad?”

You think back to how Hopper seemed worried when he investigated the Byers home. From what you can recall, he suspected that Will had been running away from something, explaining why he’d abandon his bike.

“And now we’re going to the exact same spot where he was last seen, and we have no weapons or anything?”

Maybe Dustin’s right. This definitely wasn’t your best idea, and you’re regretting letting them follow through with their plan. For someone who claims to want to keep their loved ones safe, you really suck at it. 

“Dustin, shut up.” Mike voices, though he now looks a bit concerned as well. 

“He’s right, Mike.” You speak up, stumbling a bit in more mud. Your shoes are definitely ruined, now. “I was at Jonathan’s when Hopper showed up, he thinks Will was running from something.” 

The boys go quiet now, and when you’re about to suggest going home, you hear rustling in the bushes. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Mike asks. 

Your heart stops as the rustling continues and you all start to twist and turn, looking for the source of the sound. The rustling gets louder, almost as if it’s getting closer, and you tighten your hand around your flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon just in case. 

Then, the light flashes upon a little girl, drenched in an oversized yellow shirt, shivering. Her head is shaved, but her small stature suggests to you that she is indeed a girl. You all stare at her, no one saying a thing. She stares back, a terrified look on her face that breaks your heart. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper. 

Her eyes land on you; something about her reminds you of Will, and  you know that nothing will be the same again.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[professor-doc-emeritus]

I love the dichotomy we get between jinshi and the emperor that shows off how the traits that make jinshi a great prince, boss, friend (husband 👀👀👀👀) are the very same traits that will make him a terrible emperor.

His hard working streak that lets him handle his weird assignments with grace and manage the clashing egos of the inner palace is what will get him killed by overwork as emperor since he has no real head for delegation. It took 11 volumes and the intervention of most of his immediate family just to get jinshi to hire a secretary. The emperor always being free to host parties, sleep with the consorts, and bust jinshis balls in-between it all is, much like lakan always being free to annoy maomao, actually a sign of him being god-like at delegation and organizational management.

His lack of ego and willingness to look the fool if it gets the job done is great for avoiding political snafus and getting to the truth of things. It's genuinely the thing that makes all his expeditions to the western capital so wildly successful: he really doesn't gaf about how he's seen by the public, so long as the job gets done and his friends aren't in immediate danger. It's also the exact opposite of what you need from a head of state who's legitimacy is not-insignificantly based on the public perceiving you as an instrument of the will of heaven. The emperor being willing to kill people and their families over slights jinshi (and most sane human beings) would be willing to let slide is cruel and inhuman, but it's also what keeps the populace at large from being able to organize against him and challenge the imperial power.

Jinshis compassionate streak, his urge to save as many people he can and find the best solution for everyone possible, makes him great to work for. He'll give you assignments that match your hyper fixation, work around your crippling social anxiety, give you a post that just-so-happens to involve you staying with the love of your life for a few months. More over, he isn't gonna risk his life and your position over petty ego or greed when he can find a peaceful solution instead. But the hesitation he feels at using people like tools, and his unwillingness to act if it means throwing people under the bus, is what will lead to death and destruction if he's the emperor. Especially in a time of war. The current emperor is willing to ruin lives and crush nations if it reaches a goal, advances an agenda.

Finally, jinshis loyalty, I'd say even more than his looks, is what draws people to him. He loves his toys, can't stand to give them up. It makes him a great romantic figure. But when you're the emperor, and you need to be willing and able to marry someone for political ends, produce as many heirs as possible regardless of who with, and set aside the feelings of those women for your own sake, that loyalty is poison.

Idk, so often in stories with these systems they sorta follow the logic of "if he's a good person he'll be a good leader." I think it's cool to have a series talk about how being a leader involves being EXTREMELY comfortable with being an asshole, for a myriad of reasons, and how someone being pleasant to work for wouldn't make them an effect monarch.

[skythighs]

Goddess of Caladan: Follow

Warnings: 18+ content, cw inc*st, unhealthy relationship dynamics

Word Count: 3.9k

Part 2

Paul gives me my space and doesn’t push for me to spend my days with him. Although I knew he was restless with the distance after having me so frequently before. During the day I was distant but late into the night I would find myself wrapped around him making up for hurting him with my absence. I noticed our mothers eyes were watching me less. Her look, less severe and she seemed content to leave me be, once again.

When we arrived on Arrakis, the dry heat felt as if it weighed down upon my flesh and bones. The wind blew dust rapidly around us as we walked to the thopter. It felt so surreal finally being here. This wasn’t a dream. This was real, and I nearly lost my footing in a particularly strong gust. Nearly. Paul latched onto me, saving me the embarrassment of falling with the natives watching us, shouting at us. He didn’t let go of me until I climbed in ahead of him and found a seat in the back of the ornithopter. 

“Lisan al Gaib” They’d called out. Pointing fingers at us. 

The term was familiar to me, and yet I could not recall what it meant. Once seated and buckled in, we flew to the palace. Paul once again spoke my thoughts. Asking our mother what they were shouting out.

“Voice from the outer world. It’s their name for messiah.” Says Lady Jessica.

“It means the Bene Gesserit have been at work here.” She continues.

“Planting superstitions?” He questions.

“Preparing the way, Paul. These people have waited for centuries for the Lisan al Gaib. They see you, they see the signs.”

“They see what they’ve been told to see.” He looks away from her. Done with the conversation.

As far as the eye could see, there was sand. Sand on the land, sand in the air swept up by wind. I felt my skin shriveling up at the dryness. Perhaps I took the rain for granted. Once inside my new room, I was left to get settled. My servants took their time unpacking my things. Hanging beautiful gowns at the front of the wardrobe. Putting my nightgowns in drawers. My perfumes and hair oils were being organized meticulously on the vanity. 

 I slipped away after freshening up and changing into comfortable clothes. It was much cooler in the tawny colored palace. The stones aided in keeping cool air trapped inside while keeping the heat locked outside. They were cool to the touch and inviting as I dragged my hand along them, exploring my new home. The further I explored, the more the place grew on me. I stumbled upon an airlocked door with a palm reader as the only access. I wasn’t sure what was behind the door, but I pressed my palm onto the reader, curious if I’d be granted access.

The door whooshes open, and the smell of dirt and moisture caresses my nose. I push the door open, further revealing countless plants green and vibrant growing so tall they touched the ceiling. It was so different from all of Arrakis, and it must have required so much water to keep all of this greenery thriving in this secret room.

I walk about the room, taking stock of every plant, most unfamiliar to me. It dawns on me then. What this room actually represents. After seeing the state of Arrakis, after seeing the people outside flesh and brittle dry bones, this room didn’t seem so lovely anymore. It felt like a slap in the face to those who die of thirst on this brutal planet daily, no doubt. I leave the room slowly, closing the airtight door behind me. I feel unsure if I’ll ever come here again. 

After a couple weeks passed, we were deemed to have been settled in well enough. It was now time to begin hosting the Arrakeen aristocracy. Among others, of course. Nobility didn’t matter any more than money and resources, whether it be honestly earned or otherwise. I was instructed to wear my finest dress with simple jewelry. I was even permitted to wear red lipstick and other touches of makeup. Mother wanted to make an impression tonight, so I must follow suit, of course. The red lipstick matched my silken red gown. 

I was the embodiment of elegance and womanhood. My mother was proving to my father that I was no longer a girl. A knock on my door followed by Paul sticking his head in is my signal it’s time to go. Paul takes me in from head to toe appreciative of the vision before him. 

“Did Mother put you up to this?” He asks as he approaches me. The maid servants make themselves scarce.

“Put me up to what?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, reaching out to fix his collar. 

He was dressed in his fine military garb that matched fathers, but with less shiny metal pieces. He grabs my hand before I can retract it, placing a lingering kiss on my wrist. His pink lips felt like the petals of a sweet flower. Such a simple gesture but so wholly intimate it ignited a want within me. He doesn't let go of my hand as he pulls it away from his lips. He strokes the back of it gently.

“Every man present tonight will surely be distracted by you. Especially me.”

There was a furrow in his brow. Placing my hand in the crook of his elbow, he leads me out of the room without another word. For the first time, I couldn't quite read him. His mood was a mystery to me, but as we reached the balcony overlooking the guests, mother and father were already waiting for us. I wouldn’t be able to address him about it now. 

As I said before, Duke Leto and his heir matched one another. What was surprising is that my mother and I were also matching. Her gown was the same red as mine, but she didn’t add a lick of makeup to her face. Only one of us would be on display tonight. 

“My darling Claud, you look beautiful.” Leto said, sounding awe struck.

He kissed my cheek and looked down at me with shiny eyes. Pure adoration that only a father could muster shined down on me and calmed me. She could put me on display all she wanted. I had my fathers love, and he would never cast me aside for political gain. After a brief summary of who’s who, we descend the staircase. Father escorting mother and Paul escorting me. His grip was tight as he led me down the stairs, almost as if he was afraid to let me go. As if he wasn't sure he would find me again once I left his side.

At the banquet, I mingled seamlessly with the crowd always moving from one group to the next politely, giving everyone their fair share of my time. I was by popular demand speaking with several men all at once now. Some were younger men, handsome with strong physiques and lingering stares. Others were old and nearly grotesque in their size, and not very subtle with their attraction for me. 

“You are a rare beauty lady, Atreidies. Even surpassing your mother, it seems, as you are the embodiment of youth.” He took it upon himself to kiss my hand, bowing for show. Of course, one of the old gross men decides to flatter me with kisses.

I fight back a grimace and smile instead. 

“Thankfully beauty is not all my mother was able to bestow upon me.”

That was code for get your filthy hands off of me, or I would do it for you. They were all aware of the power the Bene Gesserit held, and I was subtly telling them I possessed the very same. I was not a helpless daughter, I was Jessica’s daughter.  

It sounded sweet, sealed with a flashing smile of red lips. He removed his hand from mine but didn’t stray too far from my side. I could feel Paul's eyes on me the entire time. I could sense his displeasure at seeing me here with a group of men, but he himself was surrounded by beautiful women. All eager for his attention flirting shamelessly for his favor. What they had yet to learn was that my brother could not be moved by beauty and sex appeal.

He was not like other boys his age. They would learn soon enough. I wanted to see their disappointment first hand when he rejected them. Their plans failing hopelessly before them, for how would they spy on him if they couldn’t even get him in their beds. Suddenly, Father excused himself, urging Paul to take over as host. I mingled more learning bits of who could be trusted and who was an enemy.

I was approached by a tall, striking woman in a dazzling royal blue gown. The short demure beauty on her arm smiled flirtatiously at me as they approached.

“Your brother must be very protective of you, Lady Atreides. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. Even with a gaggle of beautiful women before him.” She smirks at me, in a way that suggests she knows what I do not.

“You must be Soo-Soo, the guild banker.” I smile cheerily at her, showing teeth.

 She looks me up and down with hungry eyes before responding.

“I am.” 

“My twin is perhaps a bit unsettled by all the male attention I’m receiving tonight, but he knows I’m more than capable of looking after myself.”

I glance over at Paul finding his emerald eyes. 

‘This one can’t be trusted.’ I sign to him behind my back.

“You’ve not just commanded male gazes tonight lady.” 

She reaches for a lock of my hair, framing my face while the rest is swept into an elegant updo. She strokes my hair softly before pushing it behind my ear.

“I heard a tale, you were just a child. A girl, beloved by her father and spared the reality of her birthright.” Soo-Soo sneers down at me.

“What reality would that be?” I probe. Standing my ground against the giantess. 

“Marriage of course. A truth all daughters must face. However, it seems House Atreides is quite content, keeping you in the nest.” She hisses out borderline threatening.

“I’m afraid I must steal my daughter away for a moment. I hope you don’t mind.” Lady Jessica swoops in and ushers me away.

“Claud, you look unsettled.”

‘Do not show fear here, Claudia.’ She signs in battle language.

‘She is a Harkonne agent. I’m sure of it.’ I respond.

Jessica nods to her daughter, knowing and understanding. They rejoin the party remaining side by side for the remainder of the gathering.

Later that night, she was brushing her hair at her vanity before bed when Paul entered her chambers abruptly. He was still dressed in his fine clothing.

“You haven’t changed.” I comment half heartedly. In the mirror, I could see a look in his eye. Something foreign and unfamiliar to him and I alike.

“What’s the matter?” I stand as he walks towards me.

He looks at me with those sea green eyes, a storm brewing in the depths.

“Tonight was - I’ve never felt rage like I did, seeing you being used as bait by our own mother.” He grips the back of my neck, stroking my smooth skin gently. Just touching seemed to calm him enough that the storm passed in his eyes. It was still lingering there, but much less worrisome. 

“I believe it would be common if Father had not forbidden it until now.”

“Why would he allow such a thing? It’s not like him.”

“Tonight was important for us, Paul. It was necessary.”

His hands are stroking my cheek as he shakes his head. 

“It reminded me of my worst fear. Seeing you paraded about tonight.”

“Tell me.” Perhaps this was what troubled him so earlier this evening when he first laid eyes on me. 

“I saw you in a dream once.You were dressed similar to tonight, but you wore black. You were being pawed at by hairless men with pale sickly skin. You were on Giedi Prime.”

His words hang between us in the air. His dreams were my dreams, so how did I not see this? I feel confused. Would this dream come true as so many others have in the past. Tears shine in my eyes as I look up at my brother. That would surely be a fate worse than death. The Harkonnen were known for their brutality against women. Hell, their brutality knew no bounds men, women, and children alike experienced it. 

“Did Father tell you about the marriage proposal he was sent?” I question hesitantly. It was something we’d never spoken of. His Adam's apple bobs.

“He didn't need to. I saw it in his office.” A piece of his dark waves falls into his eyes.

I nod my head.

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” He asked me, pained and squinting his eyes. 

His grip on my face increases in pressure. 

“It will never happen, Paul. Father promised me. He won’t bend to their will.” 

“Why didn’t you mention this dream until now? I didn’t know.” I shake my head as I speak. I was totally blindsided by this, and it left me feeling insecure in our relationship. I was so sure I knew everything, only to learn it’s not true.

He looks struck by the idea. He was confused because he knew I saw his dreams alongside him every night.

“I thought you knew, and I thought it disturbed you so much you never wanted to talk about it.” He says.

“I had it once and never again. It was a year ago. Now I feel you alongside me when I dream of the Fremen. You’re there too, we’re together. We’ll always be together. Promise me, Claud. Promise me you’ll never leave me.” 

He’s nearly frantic now, clutching me to his chest. Leaning his forehead on mine. Begging me to say the words he so desperately needs to hear now.

“Nothing will ever separate us, Paul. I swear, I’ll never leave you.”

He kisses and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his narrow waist. I cross my ankles behind him to keep from sliding down his tall frame. 

“I need you Claud.” He murmurs between kisses. 

Whatever he needs, I will always provide. We don't even make it to the bed before he trips over his own feet in his haste. The fall to the floor is hardly noticed as he begins ripping away my nightgown. He sucks and nips at my brownish pink nipples. He feels satisfaction seeing me bare beneath him, but it's not enough. The storm in his eyes is back, and it's raging again. 

I help him remove his military jacket, our hands fumbling and shaking. Both of us are so eager and needy for this. I leave him to remove his shirt while I work at his belt buckle, it falls loosely and I push his trousers down gasping as his cock springs free. It nearly looks angry, all veiny and rigid.

Our lips and teeth clash as he rubs himself against my slit. Not nearly wet enough he pulls his lips from mine and spits on my cunt vulgarly. As he pushes inside me briskly, I whine out my displeasure. Without proper preparation it burns as he forces his way in. 

“Shh.” He hushes me with a sweet kiss. But he doesn't stop. He can't stop. 

He's relentless in his strokes going balls deep each time. Never giving me a moment to catch my breath, never giving me a second to adjust. His hands find their way into my hair pulling roughly exposing my neck to his assault. He bites me harshly before sucking as if to alleviate the pain. 

“Fuck you're gripping me so tight.” He groans out. 

This was so unlike him. He was always sweet and tender and vulnerable even whenever we made love. This was a new side of him. A rough demanding side. A side I love just as much as any other. 

“I need to feel you cum wrapped around me Claud.” He hisses into my ear. 

He reaches between us, finding my bud pressing against it almost to the point of pain. I moan out, twirling my hips beneath him, chasing the ecstasy he so eagerly sought to give me. His thrusts grow sloppy but he never stops massaging my clit bringing me to the brink. My eyes close rolling to the back of my head. 

“Look at me, Claud. I want to watch you while you break apart on my cock.” 

His words push me over the edge. I feel my brows furrow as I look into his eyes. Brown meets green. Green like the living trees and tall grass of Caladan. So full of life, so fresh and vibrant with promises of what's to come. 

“You know where.” I say to him, knowing what's next. 

His cum spurts hot and velvety inside my quivering walls, but he doesn't stop stroking. He prolongs his pleasure until he's sensitive and shivering inside me. We're drenched in sweat and I feel a soreness in my back as we come down from our high. Sensing my unease he removes himself from me slowly. He was the Paul I knew again, the sweet, careful Paul. As we settle into bed he holds me close. His touch is gentle as he strokes my back, attempting to remove the redness he caused.

“I love you.” He whispers out as we fall asleep clinging to one another like scared children. 

We settled into a routine in the Arrakeen palace. Paul was often occupied with meetings and strategic planning alongside our father. We met up in the courtyard walking arm in arm, stealing a moment for ourselves for the first time today. It was almost unbearably hot.The palm trees were the only living plants visible on Arrakis’ surface, and they intrigued Paul. They were being watered meticulously as the Fremen pilgrims watched on. It felt wrong to me, but I did not comment on it.

 Paul spent much time learning the Fremen ways. He watched the projected images about sand walking, and I was sprawled across his bed in my nightgown as usual while he absorbed the information before him. I did not feel the same thirst for knowledge of their ways as he did and found myself slowly drifting away into a dreamless sleep. The sounds of the audio aiding in my relaxation. 

Pauls POV

I got off the bed enticed by the little desert mouse on the holoscreen. Claud was sleeping soundly, breathing deeply in a constant rhythm. Looking at the images projected before me nearly distracted me from the slight drilling noise coming from the wall behind the bed. The very bed Claud slept on. I look at my sister, praying she doesn't move and draw the hunter seekers attention. As it moves away from her, observing the rest of the room, my heart slows down as I disguise myself amongst the projected image. 

The hunter seeker flies towards me, but I don’t flinch as it hovers in front of my eye. The door opens, and Shadout Mapes stands with linens in her hand as I crush the hunter seeker against the solid door. I look at Claudia, and she doesn’t even stir from the commotion. I knew the hunter seeker had a short range, so the assassin must be nearby in this very palace. Mapes alerted the nearest guards, and I watched over Claud. My father found us. He had alerted the entire palace guard to search for the assassin.

He walked in slowly, looking from me to the sleeping figure in my bed. He looked genuinely fearful. Fearful for his children. Seeing Claud on the bed, totally unaware of what had transpired nearly broke him, but he is a Duke. He refused to let his emotions get the best of him now. He would make sure the assailant was found and dealt with properly. 

“It flew right over her, father. I felt like the world fell from beneath my feet.”

Leto clutches his shoulder. Understanding his fear for his sister at that moment. 

“It didn’t see her. She was sleeping so soundly it flew right past her.” Tears fell from his eyes then. As the reality of it all settled in. He could have lost her tonight. He could have lost his other half. He knew he would not be whole without her here. Before his father can respond, he hears a shout from the doorway.

“Your grace! The assailant has been found.” 

Leto hurries after the guard leaving Paul and a sleeping Claudia. 

I look at her with tears falling from my eyes, but I don’t speak. I can’t speak. She’s sleeping so peacefully it would be wrong of me to wake her. Once she wakes, her peace will surely be destroyed. This place was more dangerous than we could have imagined. Even in these very walls, danger lurked. I feel something inside me, something dark and unfamiliar. Similar to the night of the banquet when she wore a crimson dress. Crimson like the sheets the day she became a woman. The day everything changed for me as she assured me it was okay, it was normal. But seeing my sister bleeding out on her crisp white sheets was anything but normal to me. 

Seeing my sister inches away from a hunter seeker while she slept was a turning point for me. I needed to see her safe. Always safe. After that night, I sought her out during the day despite our mothers suspicions, interrupting her training. I had to reassure myself she was okay. Nothing else mattered. It was all I could think about, and it began consuming me from the inside. There was no me without Claud. We were born into this world together. I followed her into this world, unsure of what lay ahead. I just knew that I had no choice. I was born two short minutes behind her. It’s been said that my whaling would not stop until I could feel her nearby. If she were ever to leave this world, I would surely follow her then, too. 

I arrive late to the strategy meeting, barely beating my father here. I lost track of time amidst the blooming petals between my sister's supple thighs. I could still smell her on my lips and fingers, and it was enough to keep me temporarily satisfied. Even now, I can feel her tight heat gripping me and pulling me inside her as deep as our bodies allowed. I could feel her milking me for every last drop of my cum as I emptied inside of her. The feel of her is unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my life. The taste of her so bitter and sweet on my tongue makes me crave her unlike any other. She was made to be mine, as I am hers.

Taglist: @aoi-targaryen

[daily-hyosatsu]

Let's continue the tea theme today! This is not, as far as I can tell, a human name (though I did find a tweet saying "Hey, I saw this 茶柱nameplate, but is this a name that actually exists?"). This appears to be a business sign—for a tea leaf reader, I think—that's designed to look like a nameplate, but there is a cool story behind this word!

茶, meaning tea, is read チャ or サ. The radicals are 艹 grass crown, 个 (for counting stuff), and either 木 tree or ホ ho, depending on who you ask.

柱 means pillar, post, cylinder, or support. It's read はしら or チュウ. The radicals make sense with the meaning: 主 main/lord + 木 tree/wood sorta means load-bearing, no?

Put them together and you get 茶柱 [ちゃばしら]. It doesn't mean a long block of tea, or that tea is the pillar of society; it refers a tea stalk floating upright, like this! (x)

(No matter how I look at it, all I see is a candle wick, but that's neither here nor there.)

An upright-floating tea stalk is considered auspicious. There are all kinds of local variations to this belief, but generally, getting one in your cup doesn't confer good luck automatically; there are conditions. For example, you might need to swallow the stalk without anyone noticing, or maybe you have to remove it and hide it in the left sleeve of your kimono, or you have to keep it a secret because telling someone else about it will transfer your good fortune to them.

It seems that this superstition didn't come about organically; it was apparently invented by teamongers. Traditionally, only lower-quality teas had any stems at all, so people had a negative view of stemmy teas. This story was designed to make stems a feature and not a bug. The belief stuck, and today, there are actually some tea makers that purposefully incorporate hollow stems because they're floatier.

Finally, now that the facts are done, here's a crackpot theory of mine. All of the tea pillar superstition corollaries have something in common: they encourage you not to call attention to it. If guests have to conceal any tea pillar that they might find, it allows their host to save face because no one is pointing out that they're serving a cheaper, lower-quality tea. It also protects those of us who are bad with social cues or not knowledgeable about tea but don't want to cause embarrassment. Even if you're just feeling petty or actively want to embarrass your host for some reason, it gives you an incentive not to. I think that's kind of nice. I may have made it up myself, but I do think it's nice.

[hellfireloserclub]

I was a teenage dirtbag | 75k | M

Author : @hellfireloserclub Artist :@academic-clown ( @acaademicqueer if it ever gets un nuked) Beta : @kaypie91

Sorry it's late ! Ao3 was out!

Nothing but love for the wonderful artwork @academic-clown has done for this fic. The detail and the love in this art is wonderful.

And thankyou kaypie for the wonderful beta work.

“So…” Dustin started.

“So what?” Eddie asked, fixing his eyes on the side of Dustin’s face, trying to work out what way this interrogation was going to go.

“I don’t have my own ringtone, Wayne and Mom don’t, but Steve does?” Dustin avoided looking at him, staring at the overhead signs pointing to the short stay parking, acting like they weren’t at the airport at least twice a month with the family coming and going.

“I thought it was funny,” he said in his own defense.

“And I totally believe you.” It sounded like a question.

“But?”

“But are you sure there's not more?” someone shouldn’t look so smug as they reverse in a multi story, yet here was Dustin excelling at it.

When Eddie didn’t answer he cut off the engine turning to look at him, all signs pointed to the next few minutes being incredibly uncomfortable.

“Spit it out, I have to get to the gate,” Eddie grumbled, he felt like he was under a microscope, his little brother's eyes boring into him.

“Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Steve?” Eddie wanted to yell- yes, I just don’t know what? But he bit it down, this wasn’t the time to trigger a Dustin intervention.

“Just because you can't procreate outside of the close knit circles you were dragged up in, doesn’t mean we all have to hook up within our little friend group. You gotta stop trying to pair us all off dude, it's not cool. Remember when you used to keep trying to pair off Steve and Robin? How did that work out for you?” Eddie questioned.

“In my defense-”

“No. Say less. Stop. I broke up with Yumi two weeks ago, I don’t need you to help, I don’t need your psychoanalyzing me with Max over the phone. I don’t need you to try and set me up with a rebound. I’m a big boy alright. I’m going to Boston to get stupidly drunk with Steve, talk shit about you all lovingly, and lament the fact that both me and him are probably gonna die old and alone.” He reached over the back of the seat and grabbed his duffle bag, before reaching over and tapping Dustin on the cheek.

“But look at the plus side, if me and Stevie don’t bring a plus one to the wedding that will save you two meals and a headache with seating plans.”

“You make my resolve to not meddle in both of your love lives impossible, you know that right?” Dustin asked, leaning over the center console.

“Cause you were doing an absolutely stellar job of it before this conversation?” Eddie closed the door behind him. “Dusty, I love you like you’re my own flesh and blood. But please, let this one go?”

Dustin looked poised to say something else but Eddie didn’t have time for it.

“If the words curiosity journey come out of your mouth, I’m not speaking to you for a month.” Dustin snapped his mouth shut, “That’s it, save it for Applejack, I don’t want to know.”

Eddie gave the car a courtesy wave as he went through the doors of the airport, but he didn’t look back.

He was pretty sure Dustin had hit the nail on the head with his observations, but as far as anyone was aware Steve was just his friend, and letting go of any control on that narrative was like letting a fox off in a hen house. It would be chaos.

Although Eddie was starting to think it was a lost cause. This was so much easier when he and Steve hated each other, enemies to fuck buddies was a much easier story arch, with a lot less emotional baggage.

[fisherrprince]

wahhh just went through your ffxiv specbio tags they’re so cool!!! do you perchance have any more hcs for au ra

I HAVENT DONE AU RA YET but I love the lizards…. My best friends lizardguys. I haven’t gotten to endwalker yet and I know there’s a few more auri characters in there so…maybe my ideas will change But

au ra are I think probably the most diverse species out there just based on HOW MANY lizards exist and how BIG the azim steppes/doma/their reach is. I don’t know if I’d divide species traits by xaela/raen or if they all share that diversity, but I’m tempted to say there are fewer raen, most of whom are either in solitude or hanging out in doma, and they kind of remain proud of their celestial lineage, so they on the whole have more often “draconic” traits, while xaela with their many different lifestyles on the steppe on the whole will be more diverse. Like eastern dragons versus every other dragon species

so! between everyone I think their scales are Way More, most of which are very very hard and difficult to scratch or dent but some of which are soft like some reptiles wherein it’s not necessarily a scale, which sheds layers (like turtles shed their scutes), and more like skin, which sheds in flakes (like snakes or geckos). Au ra whose scales are soft like that are generally the same types of au ra who can pop their (also often soft and thick!) tails off at will and regrow them. Most au ra have very tough, muscly scaly tails, anywhere from big thick crocodile tails to thin draconic tails to tails that have ossified spines or clubs at the end (like dinosaurs!). Since they’re so strong, they can be used to emote — hitting them against the ground is a happy sign, while dragging it against things is Not. Also kids tend to grab and pull them a lot, which leads to the common thought of tail pulling being seen as kiddy. It is quite rude to do to an au ra as an adult. Their scales can sometimes spread to cover most of their body, and sometimes be restricted to the forearms, face, tail, and legs. their horns (aside from being basically ears which I think is cool, they must be pretty complex organs on the inside — I think they can shed but only the tips, like goats, and breaking any further is both really hard and very harmful not only to their ears but because they’re full of blood vessels!! Be careful! ) aren’t really used for fighting or anything they are there for hearing and temperature regulation and in defense. Au ra don’t really, like, sweat? They’re warm-blooded, but don’t sweat. So an important thing to keep in mind if you’re going into the desert is that overheating looks different in an au ra vs another race (lethargy, drooling, and unfocused eyes are your main tells). many of their horns point forwards to block their face. so no, sleeping isn’t that hard bc they sleep like loafs, but yes kissing is hard :( that’s not really a thing they do unless someone else wants to they snuggle and rub scales. so says yoshi p

Protofeathers are basically dinosaur fur - they are NOT feathers. They’re little hollow filaments somewhere between a feather shaft and hair. These ones are pretty stiff. That’s why au ra hair can so easily stick right up like a cockatiel. Some au ra have been noted to have protofeathers on their neck and arms like fur too :0

i have been. Speaking for a long time. uhhhh let’s see they have feets anywhere from plantigrade (clawed, kinda geckoey) to digitigrade (DINO!!!), their claws really need trimming often bc they don’t stop growing, they are not obligate carnivores like hrothgar but like miqote they need more meat than they do veggies, and it’s sometimes very hard for a non- au ra to tell if the big growl they’re doing is happy or not because big growl is how they purr! Like wolves going HHRHRRRRRR (happy). Also im obsessed with their limbal rings im so sad they’re so faded in the graphical update. they gotta glow. Most au ra are also colorblind in some way BUT! They can faintly see infrared

Also in researching lizards i found out that some lizards and frogs have like a third eye that can’t See like images but it CAN detect light and darkness and stuff? It’s called a parietal eye! Garleans… is amphibian (taking notes) /j

[magistheir]

hi i'm dean and i actually care a lot about the fact that the majority of necromancy has nothing to do with blood magic. most of canon supports this too:

dorian says he does not do blood magic. if necromancy were blood magic, why would he so blatantly lie?

in dai, the spell descriptions for necromancy explicitly state that it uses spirits to manipulate the feelings of others or cause effects (like explosions)

solas and cole both comment that necromancy is the art of manipulating spirits--actually, not even spirits, but fragments of wisps that could become spirits into doing things.

the majority of spells you are doing are actually from the school of entropy or from the spirit school--which is a school separate from that of blood magic. blood magic, as a school of magic, is focused mainly on the direct manipulation of others, first and foremost. the secondary ability is fueling spells.

blood magic might be a powerful way to fuel spells or control others, but it also weakens one's connection to the fade, making it harder to connect to spirits or cast magic in the traditional ways (mana or lyrium). solas cites this as one of his main reasons for not using blood magic in dai

i cannot emphasize this enough, but blood magic always has unintended, unpredictable consequences. the most common forms of this are the weakening of the veil, summoning of demons when that was absolutely not wanted, or possession of the mage casting it. but in the last flight, (spoilers) using blood magic to give the griffons the blight made them stronger and fight harder past the point when they would die, but they also died faster, got too aggressive, and eventually the blight mutated into a disease that infected all the remaining griffons. it also completely fucked up isseya, who got blighted immortality as a result. (end spoiler) with blood magic bringing some unpredictability to it, you wouldn't want to base entire complex systems of magic off of it

the inquisition, a chantry off-shoot organization, would not let the inquisitor learn blood magic and the rest of the world would certainly not be super cool and normal about it

i'll relate this back to dorian then, to make it relevant for my blog specifically.

dorian knows how to use blood magic, and has done it under very specific circumstances--those being a matter of tradition or heritage in specific ceremonies. for example, i count the final conversation by david gaider as among my canon, so the little ceremony dorian does as part of the funerary rites to have a last conversation with the deceased is something he knows and will do--but only with his blood and never another's, and never outside of a specific ceremonial need.

specifically, he looks down on blood mages or anyone who uses blood magic. to him, it is a sign of weak character, weak mind, and little magical talent of their own. his father was the one to instill those morals into him and alexius shared that opinion (which is why their later betrayals actually hurt). for dorian, its' simple: if you don't have the magic to learn spellcraft under your own power, pick up another way of fighting. he might be sympathetic if it was a true last resort to save one's life or that of other's, but you'll lose a lot of respect in his eyes.

[ereardon]

That Summer || Part Five [Bradley Bradshaw x Reader]

A Bradley Bradshaw AU

Synopsis: One night during the summer you turned eighteen, you woke up to a surprise. Your father, a retired Navy Admiral, had posted bail for the son of a former colleague who was now orphaned and had gotten himself mixed up with the law. Instead of letting him get lost in the judicial system, your father signed himself up as Bradley Bradshaw’s guardian to prevent him from going to juvie. You were explicitly told to stay away from the boy in the attic room. But as the summer went on, you and Bradley struck up an unlikely friendship that turned into a forbidden relationship. Bradley tipped your world upside down, challenging everything you had once thought you knew. How could the two of you think it would end any differently than it did when your father called the cops the night he found the two of you in bed together?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, angst, smut, alcohol

Chapter summary: Admiral Sullivan encourages Y/N to be nice to Bradley at their annual Fourth of July party; Y/N and Bradley make some fireworks of their own upstairs after; a discussion of the future sheds light on Bradley's post-summer plans

Wordcount: 3K

Series masterlist here; Part Four here; Part Six here

There was nothing like the stifling heat of Texas in July. 

Except, maybe, the stifling heat of Texas in August. 

As your parents prepared for their annual Fourth of July party, you sat upstairs wearing a string bikini, laying on the ground in front of the oscillating fan, covered in a thin layer of sweat, aching for the cool winters in California. 

You sat up as the door swung open. 

“Pumpkin?” 

He couldn’t see you on the other side of the bed. You sat up, pushing yourself to standing. “Yeah, daddy?” 

He nodded. “Your mother wants your help getting ready for the party.” 

“OK.” 

He lingered. Years of experience told you that your father lingering meant he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. Or he felt uncomfortable doing so. 

You tipped your head to one side. “Daddy?” 

He let out a sigh. “The Bradshaw boy? Has he talked to you much?” 

You shook your head. “No.” It was a lie, of course it was a lie. But your father would march upstairs and drag Bradley down by his throat if he found out what the two of you had done. 

What you were bound to do. 

Your father narrowed his eyes. He was imposing, you recognized that. To many, to most, he was all business, all the time. He had an air of importance and status that came with being an admiral. 

But you knew him as two people. One person was the admiral, stately and poised and never wrong. 

The other person was your friend. He was someone who took you on drives in the middle of the night to hear the waves of the ocean, and the person who snuck you out past bedtime to get ice cream while your mother fretted over you staying the same size until you had your first child. He was the person who bought you science books from a young age, who fostered the drive and desire to learn, who helped organize your hospital volunteer job the summer before when you announced you wanted to go to medical school. 

He was your ally. In every way you could ever imagine. 

Except for one. You knew that if he even got a whiff of you and Bradley it would be over. Everything you had, everything you imagined, would crumble beneath your fingertips. 

“Your mother would tell you to stay away,” he murmured. “And trust me when I say don’t get involved with him. But a little kindness would go a long way.” 

You frowned. What game was he playing? All of the sudden he wanted you to like Bradley? 

“Just be careful,” he added. “He’s coming to the party tonight. So be nice, Y/N. Be charitable.” 

You held back an eye roll. “Of course, daddy. I’m not rude.” 

He chuckled lightly. “Well then. Go help your mother.” His eyes narrowed. “And put on a shirt. We have boys coming from the rental company, can’t have you parading around in underwear.” 

And then he was gone. You laid back on the bed in a huff. Your parents' annual Fourth of July party used to be your favorite as a child. The lights, the canapes, the smell of the grill, the fireworks. But as you got older, you realized it was less of a party and more of a strategic gathering. There were social circles you were expected to swim in, and that came with obligations. You were tired of carrying the weight of those obligations.

Maybe having Bradley there would make it tolerable. 

***

Bradley stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, fidgeting with his shirt. Since he had moved in, all he wore were old collared shirts of your father’s. Back in California, Bradley had been a t-shirt and board shorts guy. He let his curling brown hair grow out and he had a perpetual tan from spending the days walking barefoot on the beach and around town. 

In Texas, Bradley was a ghost. A well dressed ghost, but a ghost. He drifted through the hallways of the house and felt like nobody saw him. 

Nobody, but you.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he left California for Texas. All he knew was that his mother had said to find you. That your family was his last resort. And he was out of options. 

He hadn’t thought that he would show up and the baby from that photograph would be a girl, practically a woman. That she would be beautiful. That she would be tender. That she would be able to heal the fractures he had assumed would plague him for the rest of his life. 

Bradley knew that no matter what, he couldn’t screw things up. It wouldn’t just mean losing the last chance he had at getting on his feet. 

It would mean losing you. And somehow, that was more daunting. 

***

Your eyes combed the crowd for Bradley. It was that way now. You did a sweep of the house when you got home from volunteering or hanging out with Ivy. It was the way your eyes scanned a room the moment you stepped inside. The way your breath caught in your throat when you’d spot him. 

Dark hair. Even, tanned skin. Brilliant smile when he saw you, his lips pulled back against pearly white teeth. 

He was beautiful. 

You were wearing a white dress that dipped low, tied tightly around your neck, hair pulled back into a bun, feet bare as you descended the stairs, the party in full swing. 

Despite the fact that your family had only been back in Texas for five years, your parents had quickly integrated themselves into the community. There was no distinction between society and the Sullivans. You were one and the same. 

That was evident by the way your mother looked, flitting around the large deck outside, seamlessly weaving between conversations about charity events and telling the caterers in hushed whispers when to bring out the next tray of food. You swore your mother had nine arms. She was refilling someone’s drink, laughing at someone’s joke, plucking garnish off of a tray, welcoming someone with a firm hug, all at once. 

She was everywhere. 

You passed by your father, chatting with a group of men in the kitchen. He kissed your temple lightly and slid you a glass of champagne with a wink. You took it with a smile and headed outside, out onto the deck, overlooking the water. 

“Y/N.” 

You grimaced. Pierce Lasseter. He had his eye on you ever since you moved, and you couldn’t shake him. His mother was on all of the same boards as your mother. His father was the local internal medicine doctor. He was everywhere, too, just like your mother. On the golf course, at the market down the road, opening the door at the coffee shop. You couldn’t shake him, as hard as you tried. 

Pierce wasn’t awful. He was tall, with a full head of hair, and a bright smile. But he had an annoying voice, and he was persistent. You knew for a fact that he didn’t want you for you. He wanted you because he thought you fit the mold he was expected to meet. You were the kind of girl his parents wanted for him. 

“Pierce,” you said in a fake voice, turning around with a smile. 

His eyes lingered on your chest for a moment too long and you felt bile pile up in your throat. Then he looked at the crystal champagne flute in your hands. “Are you drinking?” he asked. 

You took a sip. “No, you’re imagining things.” 

He squinted. “Are you sure you should be drinking?” 

You let out a sigh. “So, when do you head off to Connecticut?” 

Pierce was going to Yale in the fall. You, and everyone else on the island, knew that he was a shoo in. Dr. Lasseter was an alum and it was a big part of his personality, to say the least. Pierce was the same. 

He grinned. 

“You remembered.” 

How could you forget when it was every other sentence out of his mouth. You nodded. “Yup.” 

He leaned one bony elbow on the deck railing near you. You could smell him: mint and Coca Cola. It made your stomach roll. “Want to go for a walk on the beach?” he asked, voice low. “Maybe watch the fireworks together?”

You tried to hide your distaste. “That sounds lovely, but I can’t.” His face fell. “We have a house guest and daddy asked me to look after him.” 

Pierce looked around. “Oh yeah. I heard about the boy upstairs. What’s his story?” 

“Bradley,” you gritted out. 

“What?” 

“His name is Bradley,” you repeated and Pierce narrowed his eyes. “He’s a family friend, that’s all.” 

“From what I’ve heard, he’s odd,” Pierce said, his voice dipping. “Always skulking around. Neighbors think he’s a burglar or something.” 

“That’s bullshit,” you snapped and Pierce’s eyes went wide. You realized your mistake as soon as it happened. He couldn’t know. He would be the first person to rat you out. You reached out, pressing one hand to Pierce’s linen-clad arm. He grinned. “Listen, I have to go help my mother with the caterers. Catch you later?” 

You let your fingers linger on his arm for a moment longer than necessary. Pierce looked down before his eyes met yours again. There was hope in his. You almost felt guilty. 

Almost. 

You smiled at him and made a beeline for the stairs, spotting your mother down on the sand dunes, her face glowing with the nearby bonfire. She spotted you from a mile away and her smile dissipated into a frown when she clocked the drink in your hand. 

“Excuse me,” she said softly to the woman on her right. Her talons gripped your arm tightly. “Y/N. Are you drinking?” 

“One glass, mother,” you said, shoving the crystal stemware into her hand. “Relax.” 

“You’ll be the death of me,” she sighed, “I swear.” Her thin neck craned around. “Where is that boy?” she asked. 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Daddy sent me to look for him.” 

“Oh he did?” Her voice betrayed her emotions. She was easy to read, your mother. Too easy. “Well, go on then. If your father asked.” 

You skittered away, thankful for the break from her watchful eye as she quickly fell into conversation with another neighbor. 

Just as you were spinning in circles at the base of the stairwell on the side of the house, you heard a familiar voice. “Hi Birdy.” 

Bradley had a cup full of punch in one hand, the other firmly in the pocket of a pair of Nantucket red shorts you were sure your father hadn’t worn in decades. He looked slightly uncomfortable in his white button-down shirt, but you couldn’t help but think that he wore the clothes well. You wondered what the old Bradley looked like. 

The real Bradley. 

“Hi,” you whispered excitedly. The drinks were flowing, the music was pumping out of the house in waves. You knew that fireworks were imminent. The two of you probably had thirty minutes at the most. “Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm, pulling him out into the open. “We should walk around. So people know you’re one of us.” 

“One of you?” Bradley huffed. “I’m the outsider, Bird. Always will be.” 

You shook your head, letting your fingers brush his arm softly before falling to your side. “No, you’re not. You’re with me, that’s what counts.” 

The two of you made your way around the bonfire, smiling softly at other guests. A few stopped you to introduce themselves to Bradley. He smiled politely and shook their hands as you explained that he was a family friend staying for the summer. 

Up on the deck, you ate hot dogs and washed them down with spiked lemonade. Your father spotted the two of you chatting casually near the railing and smiled from afar, nodding his head in your direction. 

“It’s almost time,” you whispered to Bradley, urging him to put down his glass and follow you back down the stairs. 

“Time for what?” 

“Come on!” 

You were rushing down the stairs, the still-warm sand sinking around your feet by the time Bradley was still only halfway down the wooden staircase. He followed you around the corner, out toward the dunes, where you sat down directly on the sand. 

Bradley turned to you, mouth open in a silent question, when the first crack of a firework split open the sky. The two of you gazed across the water as another burst of light swelled and sparked across the darkness. 

Fireworks, no matter how old you got, never ceased to amaze you. The brightness against the still dark sky. The loud bangs and pops. The rich colors. You turned and watched Bradley’s face, mouth open wide in awe, brown eyes wide, taking it all in. 

In the sand, his hand found yours and gave your fingers a squeeze. You turned back to the fireworks with a smile. 

You would never forget that moment. 

***

Later, once all the food trays were loaded back onto the catering vans and all of the dishes had been rinsed and the tables down under the deck had been folded back up and the hot tub cover had been pulled shut, your mother called it quits. Your father nodded passively, ripping out the last check for the valets, handing it over with a grunt. He turned to you and Bradley, sitting in the breakfast nook, eating leftover pieces of blueberry pie. 

“Goodnight, Pumpkin,” he said softly, kissing your forehead. 

“Night, Daddy.” 

He looked at Bradley. “Goodnight, Bradley.” 

“Goodnight, sir.” 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment before your father excused himself. It was just you and Bradley, alone in the kitchen. How different that moment was compared to the first morning he had been in the kitchen as you came downstairs. How much had changed. 

How much had stayed the same. 

The two of you couldn’t get upstairs fast enough, rinsing your plates hastily, shutting off all the lights on the main floor before racing, silently, to the tower room. 

Bradley sat down on the edge of the bed, moonlight streaming in through the large circular window over the bed, and held out his arms, beckoning you forward. 

Wordlessly you went to him, slotted yourself between his legs, running your fingers through his hair as his large hands worked their way up your bare thighs, dipping beneath the hem of your dress until he hit your white lace thong. 

Gently, he tugged it down your legs and you stepped out of it, blushing. 

“Birdy,” he whispered, voice coarse and low and that alone made you tremble. “You tell me to stop, we stop.” 

You reached down, pushing your mouth across his. “Don’t stop,” you murmured into his mouth. 

When you pulled back, Bradley grinned. “Lay down for me, baby,” he whispered. 

You did as he said, your legs hanging off the side of the bed as Bradley knelt on the wooden ground at the edge of the bed, his mouth hot across your inner knee. 

“Is this OK?” he asked quietly. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “Please,” you begged. “I need you.” 

And then Bradley was everywhere. His hands dragging the fabric of your dress up to your hip bones, his hands smoothing over your thighs before grabbing your waist, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh until he was breathing, ragged, over your core. He stalled for so long that you were about to sit up, cover yourself out of shame. But then he dipped his head, pressing his tongue flat against your folds, licking up your excitement as you choked back a strangled moan. 

Bradley licked up to your clit, circling the bud softly as you whimpered above him, your fingers tangled in his curly hair. He tipped his head down, tongue lapping at your folds, nose nudging your swollen clit, soft cries leaving your mouth as he worked you softly and tenderly until you were falling apart across his mouth. 

He pulled back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, kissing your thigh gently as you lay panting on the bed. Finally, you sat up and looked at him. 

“Shit,” you whispered, and the curse word on your tongue no longer felt that foreign. 

Bradley slid onto the bed next to you, folding you carefully into his arms. You tightened your grip on his forearm. 

“What happens,” you whispered, “at the end of the summer? Where do you go from here?” 

Bradley shrugged softly. “I don’t know.” 

“College?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “I don’t have money for college.” 

“What about a scholarship?” 

“Didn’t get very good grades,” he admitted. “It was hard, with everything else going on.” 

Your fingers brushed lightly over his cheek, against his faded scars. “I’m sure. That’s OK, we can figure something out.” 

He smiled. “We?” 

You nodded. “Don’t you realize, Bradley Bradshaw? We belong to each other now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

His arms squeezed you tightly. “You can’t protect me,” he said quietly. “If love could protect someone, I never would have been hurt. My mother was the best person I’ve ever known. She loved me and she did everything she could.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think you would have liked her.” 

“I know I would have.” 

“She wanted me to come here,” he said. “Maybe she knew, somehow, that I’d find you. That it would change everything.” 

You pressed your forehead against his. “I’ll never let you go. You’ll never have to be alone again. I promise.” 

Tag list (or turn on notifications for my library page @ereardon):

@double-j @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @blue-aconite @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @seresinhangmanjake @babyminghao @crthurston @shanimallina87

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @wkndwlff @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @xoxabs88xox @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @teacupsandtopgun

@rosewritesitout @atarmychick007 @khaylin27 @wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @teacupsandtopgun @sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46 @louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation @fudge13 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @abaker74 @evans-dejong

@eli2447 @ducks118 @cherrycola27 @leigh70 @hotellnights

@babyminghao @taytaylala12 @bradshawseresinbabe @theweekndhistorybook

[magnus-falafelking]

FIERROCHASE WEDDING SUMMARY!!!

wanna know how our special day went? here you go :)

[NOT MY FANFIC]

[MY FRIEND WROTE IT FOR TODAY]

Boston weather was always a coin toss. During the summer months, it could be gloriously warm and sunny, miserably hot and humid, or, especially during the first part of June, even chilly and rainy. Most summers on the back bay were a mixture of all these conditions, plus a splattering of dramatic thunderstorms, just to keep the grass growing. 

But today? Today was perfect. 

All day, the weather had been clear skies and a cool breeze. Even though Frey wasn’t supposed to make an appearance, Magnus couldn’t help but feel like he had something to do with the strangely favorable turn in the forecast. The sun peeked through the partly cloudy sky to dress the sides of the chase mansion in warm summer sunlight. It was beautiful. For so many years, whenever Magnus looked at this building, he’d felt like some angry god had installed a permanent storm cloud over the roof. It had always been shrouded in an aura of foreboding, always surrounded by darkness, and always made him feel a little uncomfortable. But today, with the sun shining warmly and the breeze rustling the paper streamers and handmade signs the homeless kids at the chase space had insisted on personally designing and hanging from nearly every window, even the gargoyles seemed to look a bit friendlier. 

As the sun started to set, there was a vibrant buzz of excitement on the top floor patio as friends, family, and the current residents of the Chase Space milled around in excitement and chatted about the evening’s events. The space had been done up beautifully by Samirah, Mallory, and Annabeth (who had done all the organizing, and most of the arguing about the way things should look) with help from Halfborn, Tj, and Percy (who had mostly broken up said arguments and lifted the heavy objects). It wasn’t extravagant, but there were chairs with little flower bouquets tied to them, and a little raised platform for the two of them to stand on, and Blitzen had personally arranged several extremely expensive looking potted flower arrangements for either side, so they would be framed by lilies and magnolias and roses and other flowers Magnus couldn’t remember the names of as they said their ‘I do's.’

The bedrooms on the third floor had been converted into changing rooms for the event. In the one on the south side of the house, Magnus was unfolding and refolding the paper with his vows on it as he looked out over the stunning view of the back bay. 

The day was finally here. He was finally going to marry Alex. 

In front of everyone, he was going to say a lot of things about how much he loved Alex, how much Alex meant to him, how much he needed Alex, how he would always be with Alex until the end of the world- literally.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” 

Behind him, several heads turned as Magnus gripped the edge of the railing on the little patio he was standing on. Blitzen came up behind him as he leaned over it, patting his back reassuringly as Magnus made sounds much more like someone who had eaten bad falafel than someone who was about to experience the happiest day of their life.

“Hey kid. Let’s back away from the railing before you go headfirst into the bushes. That would not be a good look on your wedding day.” Carefully, Blitzen pulled him back into the room, sitting him down in one of the available chairs and giving him some very fatherly and encouraging pats on the shoulder. He was really putting in the work Frey probably should have been there doing…

Around him, everyone was putting the finishing touches on their outfits. All perfectly tailored, of course, which Blitzen had done much preening about in the hours leading up to now. Despite their extremely varied figures, Tj, Halfborn, Hearthstone, and Blitzen were all dressed in the same suit. It was simple but elegant, a wool suit tailored to fit each of their varying frames, smooth silk shirts, a professional but understated waistcoat, and a pair of brown leather shoes to match their ties. The only differences were that Halfborn and Tj were dressed in shades of brown and green, and Hearthstone and Blitzen were wearing warmer, more sunny but not overbearingly bright colors. Halfborn was also sporting a kilt which was, apparently, the same color as Mallory’s outfit. The pair of them had insisted on matching separately, then found out about each other's request and insisted on NOT matching, then had some kind of argument that had begun with words and ended… well, still with tongues. Magnus hadn’t asked a lot of questions after that, and had just told Blitzen to make an executive decision. Seeing the amount of leg hair on display now, he wondered if Blitzen should be trusted with too many more of those, even if they DID relate to fashion.

 Magnus himself was dressed in the same suit, except his was a deep, forest green, his waistcoat was white and had some kind of a subtle metallic shine to it, and his silk shirt was a light, blush pink. 

Alex’s colors. He was happy to be wearing them.

His hair was trimmed but still longer, hanging neat and orderly around his anxious face. On the lapel of his suit, he was wearing a pin with the same symbol Alex had tattooed on his neck, the two entwined serpents, the reclaimed symbol of Loki pinned just over his heart. 

“Gettin’ cold feet, Magnus?” Halfborn was all smiles and mead-blushed cheeks, standing with one arm on the back of a chair as he worked his way through his second horn of booze this hour. He had insisted it was Norse tradition to get absolutely hammered for the entire ceremony and reception, and when no one had joined him, he’d insisted he’d carry the load alone. “Don’t drop your guts in here. It’s much more romantic if Alex gets to watch.”

Tj sighed, shaking his head as he put a hand on Halfborn’s huge shoulder and patted it a couple times. “Halfborn, I think you’ve had enough to drink until after the ceremony. Magnus is just excited, not getting cold feet. Right, Magnus?” Tj sent him a bright, confident and reassuring smile. His wedding suit was spotless, perfectly fitted and pressed with the care and attentiveness he always gave his regular uniform. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying his weapon. They were all on the property (just in case) but he looked a bit strange not having it right over his shoulder where it usually was. If it had been in his hands, he thought, Tj would look battle ready even in a wedding tuxedo. 

“Right.” Magnus’ voice was shaky. “Totally.”

All four of his wedding party exchanged a look. Each one of them took a seat, and Halfborn even set his drink down in its little stand as he half stumbled onto one of the couches and pinched his face into a decently impressive impression of a sober man.

Hearthstone sat nearest to Magnus, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before he pulled his attention to sign to him. 

‘It’s normal to be nervous. No worries. Big day.’ He exaggerated the gesture for big with an appropriate facial expression, making it clear he understood how nervous Magnus really was. 

“I’d be nervous marrying Alex too.” Halfborn agreed. “The Argr is a bit unpredictable. He might get you up to the altar and-“ Beside him, Tj subtly kicked his leg, causing Halfborn to let out an “ouch” followed by some apologetic muttering. 

“Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day.” Blitzen agreed, looking over at Halfborn like he might want a turn. “That’s why there’s alcohol. To take the edge off the jitters. You’re fine, kid. You’ve handled way more difficult things than saying a few words.”

“The last time I said a few words about Alex I embarrassed myself in front of everyone.” Magnus leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands and making another one of those bad-falafel noises. “What if I mess up again? What if my vows suck?” His head shot up as he looked over at Hearth, eyes wide. “What if I lean in to kiss Alex and I puke into the kiss??” 

Hearthstone’s expression was a pretty clear don’t-be-ridiculous look (mixed with some disgust as he pictured a vomit-kiss unwillingly), but he still signed it out to reassure him. 

‘You will be fine. No puke in mouth. Won’t happen.’ 

“And if it does happen.” Halfborn assured him, his voice slightly slurred, “I’ll distract everyone by puking with you.”

“If anyone but Magnus throws up on these suits, I will personally drag the responsible party to Helheim and hand them over to the goddess herself.” Blitzen said coolly, eyeing halfborn with a narrowed gaze. 

Somehow, that made the tension in Magnus’ stomach settle a little. He even managed a laugh, fiddling with the paper with his vows on it again. “I’m glad you’re all here. I really didn’t know if Alex was going to agree to this or not. I bet they’re having a way easier time getting ready across the hall.” Alex was always so cool and calm and collected. Magnus was pretty sure his finance wasn’t considering which of his uncle’s expensive display vases it would be best to toss his cookies into.

“So, is it time for this then?” Halfborn patted the small, flat green box tied with a black bow he’d been entrusted with earlier that day. It was a decent size, but it looked small in halfborn’s massive hands. Inside was the gift he’d gotten for Alex for their wedding day. It wasn’t a lot, but he’d put a lot of effort into it. 

Magnus felt the butterflies that had been making his stomach their home for the last few days make a reappearance. Suppressing them must have pissed them off cause they were fluttering around his insides with a vengeance. “Y-yeah… I guess it’s probably time?”

Halfborn stood with a nod, carrying the box towards the door. “Gotcha. I’ll be delivering the package then!”

———-

Across the hall, the other wedding party was causing so much noise, it was a miracle the boys couldn’t hear it. 

“Catch it! Grab her! Don’t let her get to the door!” Furniture was overturned, pillows were torn and weapons were flying as Samirah, Alex, and Mallory chased something around the room. 

It had appeared when Alex had been checking the mirror to make sure the wedding suit was sitting right on her (for the fifteenth time in as many minutes) slithering up onto the fabric of the shoulder and whispering in her ear things nobody wanted to hear on any day, much less at their wedding. It had taken her a moment to figure out where the voice was coming from, but had spotted the tip of a little green head just over her shoulder in the mirror. 

Alex wasn’t willing to listen to bullshit any day, but especially not today. She’d grabbed and thrown the snake against a wall, the snake had hit the surface and flattened like one of those rubber sticky toys and slid down between the wall and a couch, and that had started a mess of moving things to get at it. 

“I know it’s you, mom!” Alex hissed, rolling on the floor and reaching under a chair, nearly missing grabbing the snake’s emerald green tail. “You weren’t invited! What are you doing here?”

The snake slithered over to a bookshelf, lifting up its head to peer at them. “Don’t be ridiculousss, Alexx …” the s sounds on the ends of his words were lengthened by the flicking tongue peeking out between those scaly lips, though it wasn’t clear if it was intentional or something Loki was doing for dramatic effect. “No child of mine will be married without my presenccce. I'm hurt you didn’t invite me. What have I ever done to deserve such disssregard-“ 

The snake’s speech was interrupted when a glowing spearhead sunk into the wood of the bookcase beside it, forcing Loki to dodge and slither away again. 

Samirah scowled, leaping over to retrieve her weapon and spinning around to look for where he had gone. “Nobody is humoring you today, Loki. You know exactly why you’re not welcome here.”

“Sorry, I know you’re family and all,” Mallory chimed in, her twin daggers flashing threateningly as she scanned the room for any sign of movements. “But the guest list is exclusive, and Sam and I are sort of responsible for watchin it. We’re gonna have to remove you if you don’t leave on your own.” Lighting fast, she stabbed her dagger down by a new moving lump in the carpet, nearly missing the worm. She scowled as she tried to land several more jabs in the twisting, contorting shape.

Samirah came to help Alex up off the floor as Mallory attempted to turn the rug in the room into Swiss cheese, straightening out the ruffled edges of the wedding suit. “Mallory is right, Alex. It’s our job to handle things like this. Don’t go jumping around and ruining your outfit.” As she spoke, she picked up her axe from a table beside her, throwing it as the snake came slithering out of the carpet and nearly pinning Loki to the wooden floor. The axe sunk in the old wood floorboards deep, but a few inches too far to the right, letting the snake slither away and under the door into the hallway.

“Oh Hel no.” Alex undid Sif’s garrote from her waist, making towards the door before both of the other women stopped her. 

“And just where do you think you’re goin?” Mallory asked, raising one fiery red brow at her. She and Samirah were both dressed in shades of pink, though Mallory’s pink was more of a rose red sort of color. It was a knee length dress, suited to running around a room toppling over furniture, which was pleated and patterned with a traditional Scottish plaid. The plaid pattern extended to a piece of fabric which lay up over one shoulder and went back down her back, and there was a belt cinching the whole operation in at the waist. Beneath the plaid she was wearing a plain white shirt, making her wholly more prepared looking for a fight than really anyone else Alex had seen all day. “I just said I’ll handle it. It’s only one snake, even if it is Loki.” She brandished a knife, wiggling it threateningly. “Think I can’t dissipate a little illusion magic? I swear, I just gotta catch him and you won’t need to worry for the rest of the week. I’ll send whatever piece of him came crawling up here right back where it came.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will. I just think it’ll go faster if we all handle it together.” Alex pushed out of their hold, heading for the door. Her hands were a little sweaty as she gripped her garrote. Why was Loki here? What did he want? Did he really care that much about this stupid wedding? It was just some words they were saying, it’s not like it was anything super serious. Why had Loki decided to meddle in her life  again? She wasn’t sure, but she was 100% sure that the ceremony couldn’t go on if there was a worm wiggling around the Chase Space. No, it was definitely not okay that Loki was here. Loki was the cause of Alex’s anxiety, and Alex was going to stay anxious until she personally sent Loki back to that stupid cave. 

And anyways, it was better to be running around than sitting in this damn room counting down the minutes like she had been. Yes, definitely better to be chasing a snake that was actually your mother who is actually a mega-control-freak-shapeshifter than sitting in a stuffy old room staring at yourself in a mirror. 

Just as she put a hand on the door, Samirah pulled her back, placing herself between the exit and her sister. 

Samirah’s pink ensemble was much different than Mallory’s. Her dress was four or five shades of pink, and all layered organza. The skirt swept to the floor, and the sleeves were a sheer white lace that went all the way to her wrist, framed by loose curtains of the pink organza that fell delicately over her shoulders. With the hijab around her head, she looked a bit like an upside down rose the way the diagonal hanging layers of the dress cascaded around her form. 

Sam may have looked nice, but blocking the door was a very dangerous move. Alex had to respect it a bit, but she didn’t have to agree with it. 

“Sam, it’s my wedding day and I want to hunt a snake.” Alex’s voice was as tight as her grip on the garrote handles she was brandishing threateningly. 

“No, you want to escape dealing with your anxiety by cutting something into a million pieces.” Sam corrected, folding her lace covered arms over her chest. “And while I understand that living in Valhalla has inclined you towards such… violent forms of stress relief, I’m not allowing you to do this today. It’s a little sliver of spirit. Easily dispersed. Loki is still weak and recovering from… last time.” Samirah sighed, taking Alex by the shoulders and forcing her to sit on one of the chairs. When she had finally wrestled the garrote out of her sister’s hands and secured it back around her waist, she knelt in front of her to hold them in her own. “There’s no reason to assume he could show up in any significant form. He didn’t even change shape once, so he must be too weak to manage it. He’s just trying to get in your head and ruin your wedding. You’ve proven over and over that he has no power over you. Don’t give up that control just because you’re nervous about the wedding. Let us handle it and you just stay here and relax.”

“No trouble at all, Fierro.” Mallory assured her, finally un-wedging her knife from the floorboards. “We’ll go deal with this. You wait here and look pretty.”

Alex made some sort of sound that was probably more jaguar than frustrated human, grabbing a pillow and vaulting off the couch to chuck it full speed at the wall. “I’m not going to sit around in this room like a decoration ! If my mom wants a piece of me I’ll give her one!”

“Alex, no!” Samirah grabbed her arm, giving her a stern look. “I know you’re anxious. I promise it will be fine. Really, I swear. Please, let me handle it? And just take a few minutes to calm down, okay?” Samirah put on her best pleading expression, her hold on her arm softening. “I just… I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry about anything today. Please…”

Alex didn’t know what she was feeling. Confused, angry, startled, nauseous… all the emotions were building up all at once. She felt a strange, almost uncontrollable desire to shift. Felt like her skin was itching to change, like maybe if she became something slippery enough she could slide out of this mess, or maybe change into something with a roar loud enough to quiet the buzzing that had been in her head all day. She had almost been happy to see Loki. Not because she wanted to, but because it gave her something to focus on besides how she really felt about this whole wedding situation…

Scared. 

After a long, silent stare-down, Alex crossed her arms and turned her head away, hoping she’d withdrawn fast enough to hide the way they were trembling. “Fine. Whatever. Call me when you need my help catching the slippery bastard.”

Samirah let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, nodding with the warmest smile she’d had all day. “We’ll call if we need you. Come on, Mallory.” 

————

[Song accompaniment: Wonder by Shawn Mendez]

Magnus had most often found it best to follow the rules. When his mom had been alive, she’d even accused him of being a little too well behaved sometimes, pinched his cheeks and told him he should sneak out or talk back. “Live a little, be a kid” or something like that. It wasn’t like he had a strong inclination towards the law or whatever, it was just usually easier and created less issues to do things the legal, reasonable way. 

But, his two years on the streets had taught him a lot of things, and one of those things was that sometimes, breaking the rules was sort of a necessary thing. Like when you hadn’t eaten in three days and there was nothing edible in the dumpster, so you had to swipe a sandwich from a deli. 

Or when your whole wedding party suddenly leaves your dressing room to deal with some kind of pest control emergency (since when did the Chase Space have worms?) and left you holding the box that someone else was supposed to deliver to your fiancée. 

Magnus stood awkwardly in front of Alex’s dressing room door, lifting and lowering his hand a few times. Should he leave it and run? Should he stay? Did it really matter if they saw each other a little early?

Inside the room, Alex was sitting with her feet up on the couch, knees to her chest and thoughts racing. There was too much to consider. Her eyes settled on a little ship in a bottle on the bookshelf across from her as a storm started brewing in her mind. 

Did Mangnus really want to marry her? Why were they getting married anyways? Mallory and halfborn broke up every other month and fought like crazy. What if they started fighting like that in a hundred years and wanted a divorce? 

The ship in the bottle seemed to move, swaying on the waves of Alex’s frenzied thoughts. 

Why was Loki here? Did he have some sort of plan to mess with her life again? Did he want to stop the marriage so that he could try and force her into another one like he tried to do to Samirah? Like she was almost forced to do when she took samirah’s place?

Her thoughts were so wild and all-encompassing that she didn’t notice the way her hands were shaking, didn’t notice the way her eyes were reddening. The memory of drinking out of the cup after Thrymm at her first wedding returned to her against her will. She’d been forced to do it, and the realization that the ceremony might have actually been completed made her almost as nauseatingly disgusted as the thought of sharing his backwash-wine did. She felt sick. The ship in the bottle seemed like it might capsize-

There was a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice. 

“Uh… hey Alex. It’s me.”

The noise stopped. The sky seemed to clear. Alex blinked, wiping something wet and hot away from her eyes as she looked at the ship on the shelf. It was still.

“I know I’m not supposed to see you yet. Or uh, well, I mean you’re not supposed to see me either. but… there’s no rules about our voices, right?”

On the other side of the door, Magnus was fidgeting anxiously, rolling up onto his toes and back onto his heels like a weird little doll, bobbing back and forth in a way that would have made Alex laugh if she could have seen. “I just came to bring you your gift.”

Alex glanced towards the door, her body uncurling from its little ball before she even thought about it. Her feet moved without her direction, like Magnus was a lighthouse in her little storm guiding her safely to shore. She stopped a foot or so from the door, finding it startlingly easy to level out her voice. “You are breaking the rules, chase.” Her voice was barely shaking. She felt warm. She always felt warm around Magnus. 

Magnus felt his lips turn up into one of those stupid goofy smiles that always made Alex blush. He didn’t fight it. “Yeah well, you know, I figured you’d be way more into me if I broke a few rules.” 

Alex laughed a little. The sound was genuine, so the edges of the sound were tinged with the lingering fear that Magnus always chased away. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Ooh, careful. In a couple hours I’m going to be youridiot. Like, forever. You wouldn’t want to be married to an idiot, would you?”

“Probably not. Not unless he’s really hot. I mean, he’s gotta be really, really hot.”

Magnus’s grin got a little wider as he felt a swell of confidence. “Oh yeah? So you think I’m really really hot? Like really really really -“

“Alright chase, you’re pushing it. Three reallys? That’s crazy.” 

By now, both of them were pressed up against the door. If there hadn’t been a piece of wood between them, they would have been forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Magnus swore he could feel Alex’s breath on his cheeks if he closed his eyes. 

Alex felt completely calm. The rolling waves in her stomach had changed to a warm, bubbly feeling. Ah, right. What a dummy she’d been. Alex wasn’t marrying Magnus because someone told her to. She wasn’t marrying Magnus because he was strong or cool, or really really really hot. 

Alex wanted to marry Magnus because to her, Magnus felt like home. She’s realized recently that Magnus was warm and summery and light, and that just being near him made her feel warm and summery too. Her whole life had been a hurricane of wild misfortune and crazy happenstance, everyone and everything whipping her wildly in every direction all at once. 

But whenever Magnus was there, she knew she’d found the eye of the storm, and that was never going to change. 

“This is crazy.” The words left her lips before she could stop them, and she felt a momentary pang of guilt and fear, her eyes flicking up to the wood as if she could peer through it to see Magnus's reaction. Crap. 

“Yeah. It’s pretty crazy.” Magnus agreed, turning the box in his hands around a few times. “I mean, I never thought I’d get married. And I kind of thought if I did get married, I’d still be alive when it happened.” 

“Ghost marriages exist.” Alex ventured, her brain fried from all the emotional ups and downs. 

“Yeah, I know. We’re doing one I think.” Magnus pulled his head back from the door, reaching for the handle. “Here. This is for you.” He pulled the door open a crack, just enough to pass the box through. “Tj said I’m supposed to give you a gift before the ceremony? Halfborn was gonna bring it over but I guess we have worms…” 

As if on cue, the sound of something crashing came from downstairs, followed by the sound of a berserker shouting at the top of his lungs. 

“Must be big worms…”

Alex stepped away from the door and set the box down on a table, carefully untying the ribbon. Her hands started to shake again as she lifted the lid, carefully peeling back the tissue to see what was cradled inside. 

After a few moments of terrifying silence from both Alex and the lower levels of the house, Magnus heard the loudest, most ridiculous laugh he’d ever heard come from behind the door. For a moment it made him smile, then his smile faltered slightly when it seemed like Alex was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. “What? I did my best!”

Alex was practically rolling over what she’d found in that box. In her hands she held a little clay figurine of (she was pretty sure) an animal, only she couldn’t tell what animal it was supposed to be. It was just big enough to fit in her palm, and seemed to be some kind of cow-goat-giraffe hybrid. It had a neck that was just a bit too long, short stubby little legs that came to strangely sharp points, what appeared to be a cat’s tail, and a lump of clay that was surely supposed to be designed into some kind of face, but Alex couldn’t for the life of her see it as much more than a smushed in thumb with eye holes that was smiling at her in a comically goofy way. The worst part was the little cow-giraffe’s dorky smile kind of looked like Magnus if she squinted. She had to put the figure down in the tissue so she didn’t break it as she nearly collapsed on the floor. 

“Mag- Magnus. Please tell me-haha! T-tell me what the Helheim im looking at.”

Magnus was moping on the other side of the door, a serious pout on his face. “… you really can’t tell…?”

“Oh gods. Hahah! Go- go back to your room. Hah! Oh my gods… I’ll see you in an hour. I’m giving you the biggest goddamn kiss when it’s time.” 

Alex couldn’t stop the laughs still slipping out of her lips as she picked up and cradled the little clay figurine in her hands like it was some kind of treasure. By the sound of Magnus’ excited little trot back to his side of the hall, it seemed like they were both in much better spirits. 

————

[Song accompaniment: Electric Love by BØRNS]

It took the wedding party an hour to deal with the pest control issue, which fortunately meant they were done right on time to walk the aisle. 

Unfortunately, that also meant that Mallory was walking the aisle with some kind of ash from an explosion on the left side of her skirt, and blitzen had to do a last minute patch of hearthstone’s sleeve, which had ripped in the scuffle with the worms. The state of them had confused Magnus, but they had all insisted it didn’t matter, and hurried into their places. 

They’d definitely looked worse. At least Halfborn was still wearing his shirt.

As the sun set over the horizon, settling a halo of golden hour glow over their reception venue, the ceremony began. 

The first down the aisle was the officiant, Jack. 

It was really a good thing that most people in attendance could see through the mist, because for the few that couldn’t, he couldn’t imagine what display was replacing a self-levitating talking sword. They had briefly considered using someone else for this role, but upon being rejected, Jack had offered to MC via acapella renditions of all their favorite songs for the whole evening, and had swiftly been returned the offer of officiating. He floated quite impressively to the end of the aisle, then spun to face the crowd in a pretty show-offey flourish. Magnus figured he was probably smiling. 

Up next were the boys. Tj walked the Aisle first, proudly taking his position at the side of the groom with a way too excited look on his face. He was followed swiftly by Halfborn, but only after Mallory had cursed him out in Gaelic and taken the mead horn from his hand that he’d been trying to walk down with. 

After that it was Magnus’ turn. Gods he was terrified. Alex wasn’t even up there yet and he was terrified!

He took a deep breath, straightening his jacket and trying to settle his stomach as Blitzen and Hearthstone came up on either side of him. 

Blitzen adjusted his own jacket, giving him a wink and a confident smile. “We got you, kid. No worries.”

Hearthstone nodded on his other side, signing ‘right beside you.’ 

Arms interlocked in what had to be a cheesy way, they made their way down the aisle together. Magnus was glad for the handhold, because when he started making eye contact with people, he felt like his knees might give out. He spotted Annabeth and Percy in the crowd, his cousin waving and smiling sweetly at him. Percy looked as cool and calm as ever. How did he do that all the time?

The walk to the altar felt like it took forever. By the time they stopped, Magnus wondered if they’d missed the ceremony altogether. 

“Welcome señor! Now that the groom has arrived, it’s time for the ladies~.” 

The crowd mercifully turned their attention away from Magnus. Blitzen and Hearthstone stayed beside him, holding his hands and giving him reassuring squeezes as they watched the entrance. 

Mallory came first. She’d made a good fuss about it earlier in the day, but she seemed happy now to be filling the role of flower girl. Most of her argument had been they hadn’t needed a flower girl, and if Samirah wanted one so bad how come she didn’t throw the flower then, and of course Alex had enjoyed the little spat and not helped settle it at all by saying she didn’t care either way. In the end, Mallory had agreed to be the “best damn cailín bláthanna anyone had ever seen”, and Magnus had to admit she was doing pretty well. Although it should be said there wasn’t much to throwing flower petals. 

When Mallory joined them on the altar, Jack's blade seemed to brighten up a little more, his runes glowing a soft pink as he spoke again. “Señors and señioritas, would you please join me and rise for the presentation of Alex Fierro?”

Eager smiles filled the faces as the door to the top patio of the Chase Mansion opened, and Samirah and Alex stepped out into the light of the setting sun. 

And oh, gods, did Magnus nearly fall over. 

Alex was dressed in a suit that hugged her body in every proper way. It wasn’t like his, it was… hard to describe. The base color wasn’t too far off the green of his own suit, but it was accented with beautiful shades of pink lining some of the seams and peeking out between the folds of the suit around the neck. Where Magnus's suit had sharp, smart lines that gave him an air of masculinity, Alex’s outfit was soft curves and gentle slopes. The way it moved made it seem like Alex was switching genders with every step. Like she was glowing with the sunset and becoming one with the wind. Like the breeze tossing his hair to the side might have also subtly changed the shape of his nose. Trailing behind him and draping off the back of the coat was a long, elegant train. It was a gradient pink to white, and glittered with the adornment of several hundred tiny crystals. Each one of them glittered a different color depending on the way the light hit them, making the whole thing seem to glitter in the setting sun. It seemed to be attached to the suit jacket in several places, at the shoulders, the waist… When Alex turned to pull the train from the stairs, her silhouette was so completely feminine. The suit seemed to shift fully into a dress, and the dress seemed to curve around her body perfectly. When the train was free and Alex faced front again, the suit came back into view, and the heavy stare that Alex leveled at him combined with the full frontal focus of the suit snapped him straight in the opposite direction so hard he almost fell into Blitzen. 

For the first time, his sense of Alex’s gender was a mystery.

Blitzen steadied him, nodding appreciatively. “I know, Magnus.” He patted his pseudo-son on the back, leaving the ‘I outdid myself’ silent. 

Alex took Samirah’s arm as the door closed behind them, and the pair of them made their way towards the altar. With every step, Magnus swore he could see Alex shift and change. He was fluid, harmonious, breathtakingly beautiful. As Alex got closer he could see the little bits of makeup she’d put on, and as he came up to the altar, Magnus said a rushed prayer to his dad that he wouldn’t fall over when Blitzen and Hearthstone let him go. 

Samirah gave Alex a kiss on the cheek, whispering something in her ear and left to take her spot on the Altar. 

Blitzen stepped up to Alex first, somewhat awkwardly reaching out to take her hand and shake it. “Alright, Alex. We’re handing him off. It’s a big responsibility.”

If Alex was nervous, it didn’t show. His expression was confident and maybe a little cocky as he shook Blitzen’s hand. “Yeah, I know.” 

“You take care of him properly.”

“I will.”

“Cause if you don’t, you know we can-“

Hearthstone cleared his throat, raising one thin brow when Blitzen turned to him with a scowl. The attending audience laughed politely. “Alright, alright. I get it.” 

Hearthstone stepped down to join him, smiling and nodding once before he signed. ‘We are happy to be here. Happy for both of you.’ He turned to Magnus when he signed ‘both’. He reached out his hand towards Alex, who placed her hand in his. He guided Alex up to the altar, then carefully placed his hand in Magnus’ hand, giving them both a little squeeze before he let go. 

Magnus wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have seen hearthstone brush away a tear when he and blitz went to sit down. 

“Aaaalrighty then, let’s get to it!” Jack said happily, swaying excitedly back and forth as he started in on the ceremony. Since Jack was a minister (for some reason) ordained a long time ago, his ceremony didn’t deviate too far from the one they had attended (and ruined?) before. They each shared a drink out of the same cup of wine, Jack floated sideways and impressively delivered a proper blessing on their rings while using himself as the tool of blessing, and there even seem to be a fairly targeted break in the clouds when they took turns slipping the rings on, filled with the warmth of summer. 

“Now that someone is done showing off ,” Jack said with a sour tone as their magical halo of ring-exchanging light dimmed and the sun finally began to dip all the way down. He muttered something that made his runes glow just barely, then brightened up as he floated a little higher again. “Magnus, you may say your vows to your beloved~.”

“Right. Cool.” Magnus smiled, still holding onto Alex’s hand where Hearthstone had joined them. Should he go for the paper with just one hand? Was it okay to let go? Probably not. Best to keep holding on, right? He didn’t want to let Alex go anyways. With one hand, he dug into his pocket for the folded up paper with his vows. Then, still holding his hand, he did his best to unfold them against his leg with his one free hand, smoothing it out clumsily and nearly dropping it. 

Could Alex have let him go and helped him out? Absolutely. Was he enjoying this display of genuine awkward lovable idiocy too much to help? Absolutely. 

As he watched Magnus finally get a hold of the situation (and the paper), he couldn’t help the snort of laughter that broke out of him. He waved off Magnus’ confused look with his free hand, gesturing for him to read his vows as the crowd giggled with him. 

Was he ever going to let go of Magnus’ hand?

Absolutely not. 

“Okay, got it.” Magnus smiled sheepishly, hoping the hand Alex was holding wasn’t too clammy. He gave her an apologetic smile as he cleared his throat and glanced at the paper. 

“Alex,” the name came out a little awkward, but he smiled through it. “Ever since you came to Valhalla and garroted my head off, I was intrigued by you.” He glanced up to see if Alex was still there, then back down at the paper. 

Yep, still there. 

“You were mysterious and mesmerizing, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to know you.” The words were coming easier now, but Magnus still felt like if he looked up he might start remembering how he’d felt a few hours before, and he just really didn’t need the thought of bad falafel at this exact moment. “And… through these years we’ve been together, as I’ve come to know you…” he looked up. It mattered this time. He had to look up, and when he met Alex’s eyes, he felt like he might not even need the paper anymore. 

Still held on to it though, just in case. 

“I think I’ve finally found what I’m looking for.” He smiled, the tension leaving him. For a minute, he felt like maybe they weren’t standing on a stage in front of a bunch of people. Maybe they were somewhere alone, maybe he was just telling Alex these things in private. They were sitting at a campfire, huddled together, things were undefined but Magnus knew what he knew, what he felt, and what he needed to say. “The piece of you that makes me vow to love you and stay by your side forever. And that piece is you, Alex. Who you really are. With all your compassion, courageousness, and with everything you’ve been through, you make me admire you more every day.” He smiled, squeezing the hand he still hadn’t let go of. “I love every part of you, Alex. And I want to stay with you forever, past ragnarok.”

There was a little cheer around the crowd, as well as what seemed like some sniffling sounds emanating from Jack’s blue glowing runestones. “Couldn’t have said it better myself señor.”

Magnus glanced towards Hearth and Blitz, both of whom gave him a thumbs up. Tj patted him on the shoulder, whispering “Great job, Magnus. The hard part is over!” In his ear. 

Magnus smiled and nodded, still holding Alex’s hand like a lifeline as he shoved the paper into his pocket, missed, bent to pick it up, tried to shove it in again, missed again-

After watching him struggle, Alex sighed and shook his head, reaching out to take it. He mercifully did not release his hand, using one of his own to fold the sheet back up as the crowd laughed some more. 

“Here.” He leaned over, tucking it into Magnus’ pocket. “Try not to lose it.”

“Right.” He nodded, still grinning dumbly as Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Okay Señiorita, it is officially your turn to confess your undying love for Magnus.” Jack directed, floating a little closer to Alex. 

“Cool.” Alex nudged the sword back into place with an elbow. “Personal space, please.” For the first time since coming up to the altar she looked nervous. Magnus could tell, even if Alex didn’t want him to tell. It was reassuring, feeling the way Alex’s hand trembled slightly in his own, noticing that Alex was just as eager to hold on. Alex even reached out to take the other hand too, fully facing him.

“Wait, don’t you need to-“

“I memorized it.” Alex said evenly, shrugging. “I’ve got it.” Despite her cool demeanor, her hands were trembling a little, just like his. 

She took a breath, focusing both two-toned eyes completely on Magnus and doing her best not to think about how many people were staring directly at them. “Mags.” Her lips twitched into a smile, hands squeezing his. “Beantown. Maggie.” Their audience giggled. Alex dropped her shoulders a half inch, relaxing. “I can’t believe that we’re actually getting married. Honestly, you must be a saint.” She squeezed his hands again, her eyes flickering down to them instead of Mangnus’ stupid perfect sunny face. “I’m flawed and I’m well aware. I know I can be annoying and loud and too flashy…” she trailed off, still not meeting his eyes. He squeezed her hands back, drawing her attention. He was still smiling, but his brow was creased slightly, as if he was saying “what are you talking about, dummy?” He shook his head just slightly. 

Alex felt a rush of warmth. Maybe it was a little bit of that weird Frey magic. Maybe it was just Magnus. 

She met his eyes again, and all the tension went out of her. “But, in the end, you're my person. And I’m yours, too. And while I may be kinda mean sometimes, I do love you. So much.” She nodded, seeming satisfied with her speech. “So yeah, I do.”

Behind Magnus, Halfborn’s voice broke up the sniffling and “awe”s coming from the audience. “Is that it?” 

Mallory bent down and pulled off her shoe, shooting it across the altar and beaning Halfborn in the head. Magnus didn’t even notice. 

“Relax the smile, Maggie, your face is gonna get stuck.” Alex whispered, reaching up to pinch his cheek. 

Magnus nodded, blinking back tears. His smile didn’t waver. 

“If there are no other blessings to be offered, then I will call for the end of the ceremony.” Jack said, wiggling around behind the couple on the altar like he was looking for someone to stand up, then glancing up towards the sky. When no one moved and it didn’t seem like frey was going to descend from the clouds, he bobbed up and down a couple times, glowing a little brighter. “In that case, dudes and dudettes of the assembly, I am totally thrilled to pronounce these two souls bound for life. Or uh… until the end of the world. You may now- oh.”

Alex didn’t wait to be told. As soon as they were given permission, she took a fistful of that expensive suit and swung Magnus around, dipping him dramatically and pressing their lips together. 

Magnus wasn’t sure if he was dizzy with excitement or because of how fast Alex had spun him around. He figured that was going to happen a lot from now on. 

———-

[Song accompaniment: Paper Rings/New Romantics by Taylor Swift]

The after-ceremony celebration was wild beyond expectations. Actually, it was a miracle upon miracles that no cops were called in for a noise complaint. 

It had started off relatively reasonably, with a little bit of magical mead carried over from Valhalla and a few uninvited guests (not wedding crashers really, just friends of friends), and had quickly somersaulted into what was basically an out of control house party. 

At first they were just playing music on the roof deck. People were dancing and hanging out, and there were a few volunteer valkyries running for food and drink from Valhalla (courtesy of a new catering service offered by Odin. They had gotten a discount for trying it out.) Of course there was catering from Fadlan’s Falafel as well, managed by Amir personally. Any time magnus came anywhere near him he was offering the new groom a plate of falafel. For once he wondered if he might be able to get sick of it. When some other Enherji had spotted the running Valkyries asked about where they were going, the attendance list of the wedding had started growing, and people had started looking for interesting things to do on the lower floors. 

By midnight, from the roof deck to the front lawn, there was music, drinking, and all out revelry. Even those who had abstained from the alcohol seemed to be overtaken by the mood of the celebration. There was an impromptu karaoke room set up in the study, a bowling tournament using some of Randolph’s old statues occurring in the hallway on the second floor, and since the catered food didn’t seem to be satiating them anymore, people had started raiding the kitchen of the Chase space for some kind of cooking operation. When Magnus peeked into the kitchen, he saw a lot of things going into a blender that didn’t seem like they were meant to go together, followed by several large burly guys daring each other to chug a disgustingly thick concoction. 

There were no weapons allowed, since many of the guests were Enherji and couldn’t be trusted to mix partying with violence and not end up dead over it, but there were still stick sword fights in the hallways branching out into all out Guerilla warfare. As Magnus moved from room to room defending his new wife, he noticed some of the Einherjar teaching the kids from the Chase Space how to fight, and noticed some of them were pretty good fighters.

That probably wasn’t a great sign for the future conflicts they were going to be dealing with, but whatever. Tonight was a good night. He was married. He didn’t Puke in Alex’s mouth or fall off the stage or embarrass himself, and he even got to look cool in front of the homeless kids, which was great for his ego. 

And best of all, Alex was next to him all night. The two of them were practically glued together, and Magnus was over the moon about it. He barely needed a drink of mead to start feeling drunk and giddy. They went from room to room playing games, laughing, and generally causing a bit of chaos. At one point, the play-war happening separated into the living vs the Einherjar, and he and Percy had had a very impressive sword fight in the front yard. He’d been one horn of mead in at the time, and was pretty sure he shouldn’t have been able to beat him, but Percy had taken a somewhat dramatic dive into the river after a good strike, leaving Magnus standing stunned on the bank for a few seconds before everyone exploded in applause. Alex had given him an excited reward kiss and shouted something at Annabeth as she was towing her wet boyfriend out of the river. 

Annabeth didn’t seem upset, and Magnus was pretty sure he’d seen her smiling the whole time as she’d given Percy a kiss of his own. 

It had been a few years since he’d died, and even though he’d stopped counting, he was pretty sure he was over Valhalla’s legal drinking age, or at least that he had earned it saving the world once or twice. So, after his glorious victory, he’d had a couple more drinks, offered some fighting tips to his eager (and drunk) troops, then wandered off to find somewhere to hide with Alex. 

The two of them were hiding for a few hours. No one ever figured out where, or what they had been doing, and they were extremely tight lipped, if very smiley about it, when they came back out to the party. They made a stop in the karaoke office for Magnus to do a frankly impressive performance of Taylor Switf’s ‘Lover’ to a flustered Alex sitting in a chair. He was still singing it when they headed out of the room. 

Near the end of the night the two groups of hallway fighters had called for an orderly competition, and they’d settled on a tournament of sorts on the rooftop. The chairs had been pushed aside and a circle had been marked off in the center of the space. It seemed like they were playing a game of King of the Ring, taking turns pushing eachother out of the circle and cheering excitedly when someone won. 

When Alex and Magnus had wandered up, the competitors had arranged a sort of throne for the two newlyweds to spectate the ongoing competition from. It was just a couple of chairs pushed together with the flower arrangements from the ceremony next to them and a bunch of pillows, but Magnus did kind of feel like a king every time they cheered and raised their glasses towards him. 

Alex came half wobbling over after refilling a plate full of snacks. Tossing her plate down on her seat, she planted herself directly into her new Husband’s lap with a happy wiggle.

Huh. Husband. Weird. 

“Make room, mags.” She pushed his arms and legs around a little until she was comfortably sitting sideways on his lap with her feet over the armrest, then reached over to pull the plate of food into her lap. 

“Mags?” Magnus was grinning. He'd had something to drink since they came back out. It might have been spiked? He hadn’t asked. Everything seemed kind of warm and funny. He felt a little dizzy, but he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the smell of whatever Perfume Alex had put on. Alex seemed in a similar state. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t using the mean nicknames. Happily, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed. 

“Hey, I’m eating!” She elbowed him, steadying her plate of cookies and chips. “Sit still or I’ll get a proper chair.”

“Okay.” He nodded like a dummy, then rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. After a few minutes of shouting, a round of the competition finished, and the whole roof let out a cheer. Magnus smiled, squeezing Alex again. 

“‘Mhappy.” He muttered, his voice quiet and next to her ear. 

Alex paused, tilting her head towards him and raising a brow. “Better be.”

“Mhm.” He nodded a couple times, his chin bumping her shoulder. “Mmm.”

She offered him a piece of cookie, which he ate obediently. “Magnus.” Her voice was soft, a little slurred. 

“Mmm?” He turned to look at her, meeting her eyes and trying to focus. 

“I love you.”

The two of them sat there, staring at each other for a few moments. The air was warm, the sky lit up with stars. They were surrounded by a hundred happy people there to celebrate them. Still, the best moments of the day were ones like this. Ones where they felt completely alone, and understood each other completely without saying any words. Magnus’s big dummy smile spread across his lips, and for once, Alex’s drunk mind didn’t bother trying to hide her own in return. 

“Yeah.” Magnus nodded. “I know.”

————————————————————————

TAGS: @alex-fierro-pr-nightmare@mallory-keen-to-kill@thomas-jefferson-jr@halfbornhalfdead@lordofsummergodofrizz@deadmomclubattendee@imhotterthanallofyou@that-hijabi-loki-spawn@runest0nes@blitzen-imnot-that-short

[mac-lilly]

Mega Con London BTS Recap

Since this is a more personal recap of MegaCon London (and a bit of a comparison with Back to the Musical World con by Dream It), I didn't include it in the JATP info dump from yesterday.

BTTMW backstory

Let's do some backstory first. As you may know, the official JATP cancellation was announced at the first Back to the Musical World con back in 2021. I wasn't there for multiple reasons including Covid but also I just got into the fandom and it felt weird. I'm socially awkward - I cannot look into people's eyes, I stutter - especially when talking English - or ramble and I struggle to just touch strangers which is not helpful for photo ops.

So what I was supposed to do there? These people are actors - strangers I have nothing to do with. They aren't the characters I've fallen in love with. Yeah, not my thing, I thought.

However, when the BTTMW2 got announced, I was like 'You know, let's go to just show the cast how much you loved the show'. It was supposed to give me some closure. So I went.

And while the con was a fucked-up disaster in terms of organization and schedule - on Sunday, Charlie signed autographs until 10 pm, and Owen would have done the same if his mom hadn't cut off his line. (On that note: Never mess with a German mom protecting her kid. You'll lose.) But meeting the cast was an entirely different experience. I'd never interacted with them before, so I was anxious as fuck. However, they were so nice and considerate - and seeing them goof around was just adorable.

(And this pic is still one of my fav pics ever.)

And not just the cast. I met so many amazing people there who are now my friends. Big shoutout to them!

So, despite my hatred for Dream It, I went to BTTMW4 (and thankfully it was less chaotic than BTTMW2). But I was also determined to go to MegaCon bc I knew Jeremy wouldn't come back to Paris. (Unlike the other JATP cast members, he's done plenty of other cons before and knows that you shouldn't be so drained that require alcohol to make it through the day.)

BTTMW vs MegaCon London

So, just in general: MegaCon was clearly the better experience.

Firstly, it was cheaper than DI. Much cheaper.

(Note 1: The * prices are from 2022 since Jeremy wasn't at BTTMW4. In 2023, the photo with Madi, Owen & Charlie was already €180. All four would have been over €200 for sure.

Note 2: The prices for MegaCon were originally in £. The price in € is what I paid according to my credit card.

Note 3: Even though not 100% accurate: € = $)

Obviously, Charlie canceled later. But I automatically got a refund. So bonus for MegaCon.

Unlike with Dream It, you were allowed to film and take pictures everywhere, which was cool. And since the panels were exclusively in English, you actually got way more content. The panels were also much longer, and it seemed like the cast was more at ease. For example, Owen started to play body drums on stage, and he initiated the boomshakalaka without being drunk. This is such an incredibly sad thing to say, but I've never seen him that relaxed during a panel.

Also, shoutout to the many fans that were at the Saturday panel. According to the hist, it was the largest crowd they had on Saturday. (If MegaCon had been smarter and had announced the Sunday panel before the people got their passes, it would have had a huge audience, too.)

The autographs ran smoothly, and there was always a queue, which was good bc Own confirmed that it was Jeremy who convinced MegaCon to invite him and Charlie. (Madi got invited later - I assume after people haunted them on IG about her.) MegaCon was wary about it bc they had no idea if the cast was worth the money. I hope the audience on Saturday, the lines for the autographs, and the massive delays at the photo studio caused by the JATP fans (and technical issues) convinced them.

Side note: After Charlie canceled, I got an email from MegaCon. And obviously, I know they just used some phrases to placate us. But I still hope they meant it when they wrote,

MegaCon, you won't read this. But if you get them again, I'll be there!

(And again shoutout to the amazing people I met in London. To my fellow German tumblr friends: I loved meeting you guys and hanging out with you!)

So the only thing that wasn't great were the photo ops. Yeah, most of the Saturday photos are terrible bc of the fucked-up lighting, and due to technical issues, there were so many delays. (Though to be fair, BTTMW also had issues with photo ops.)

So overall, I genuinely enjoyed MegaCon, and I'm very excited to head off to Dublin on Saturday to give Jeremy the birthday card. To all the people who signed it: THANK YOU!

Some other random things that don't fit anywhere

Not Owen assuming that Deutsche Bahn must always be on time bc Germans are always on time. Bro, I know it's been a while since you visited Germany ... but please, that was mean.

When I gave him ghostie!Willie, Owen told me how much his family loves the little ghosties 🥹🥹🥹 (which explains why his dad was in my IG stories after he posted the pic of the ghosties.)

It's random, but this con was so much more balanced in terms of fans. I remember fans being kinda uninterested in Jeremy at the BTTMW - some fans even got angry at him bc he refused certain poses. At MegaCon, the interest was equally split between those three, and it made me happy.

Here's the lovely ghost merch I bought at MegaCon. Obviously, the pride ghost and the skateboard ghost are Willex, the couple is Juke, and the ghosts with the kitty and the one with the pumpkin are both Reggie! (I talked to the guys running the stalls, and they were so baffled about all the JATP fans - a few Fantoms came over from the US and Canada just for this con.)

[mitamicah]

Gig report: Joker Out at Tvornica Kulture, Zagreb 12.03.24

I had a good feeling about Zagreb from the moment I saw the queue in the morning. I arrived around 6.40 and was the fourth person to show up. In my previous experiences the concerts where I’d gotten a number lower than 20 have been the most intimate and memorable plus where the queue is the most chill feeling much more like a big group of friends hanging out.

I was happy to have a low number for sure but at the same time I cannot help feeling relieved that I wasn’t the first. Admittedly, I don’t feel comfortable with taking on the responsibility of being line organizer. Jokes on me it seems. None of us were comfortable with the leadership role yet loved the number system enough to keep It, so I ended up being the one walking around keeping up with the numbers now I was already giving out stickers. That later turned into me organizing the line as well.

I will say for my first time it could have gone way worse especially since I kept getting told that the Balkans are disorganized and hates queuing. It was not a problem-free experience, and you could definitely feel the stress getting to me (but I am also an open book when it comes to my emotions) yet with the help of some helpful Croatians we got the people to form two lines relatively easily and without anybody – that I know of – pushing or making trouble. The most trouble we had was that at one point during the day somebody noticed the joker out car parking by the other entrance and followed the band inside. From what I gather they were quickly thrown out again.

After the line(s) were formed the three people in front of me for early entry decided I should be first to show gratitude for the – in their words – great work I’ve done (I feel so honored). Having to be first was both so cool yet nerve wrecking since I felt the pressure to set a good example of how to behave getting in the door.

Safe to say I got myself a spot at the barricade where the first thing I did was to take off six layers of shirts (a hoodie and then t-shirts I’d made for each bandmember). Then when the guys arrived, I tried to get the attention of just any one of them and the person ended up noticing my yelling and my sign was Bojan. He gestured to me to hand over the shirts which meant that since the barricade was a meter from the stage, I tossed the shirts right into his arms. The look of bewilderment on his face catching the big ball of cotton was priceless! He had to put them to the side to continue the soundcheck (hard to sing with the hands clutching t-shirts) and I was sure that would be the end of it. In my defense, my last soundcheck experience where I’d gifted the boys a pencilcase full of keychains and stickers, I didn’t get to witness them open it or heard anything about it afterwards so I had no reason to expect the guys would even acknowledge my gift. (below: Bojan with his hand full of shirts during soundcheck, unedited)

During soundcheck we got two and a half song instead of the promised one. A few people in the queue had been wishing for specific songs out loud so the rest of us aided them by chanting for Bele Sanje, Barve Oceana and Sunny Side of London (all songs we ended up getting).

Me being starved for intense Bojan eye contact searched his eye at one point which he noticed. Locking eyes, he made a little nod which I took as him asking me if I had wanted us to have this intense stare down, so I just smiled and nodded back. I must have misread our silent interaction however, because he came to me, hand outstretched and gave me a guitar pick!!! (not that I’m complaining!!!)

Nace, precious boy, went around afterwards to hug people at the barricade so I went into my pocket and found five stickers for him. He sounded a bit apologetic and stuck between wanting to please us and running backstage so to not be late. He kept saying things like ‘I really need to go’ and ‘sorry I don’t have time’ but the fact he decided to do this little gesture anyways was very sweet. All this to say, I don’t blame him for his reaction to my stickers (saying ‘oh more stickers’ in a tone that seemed low on any form of emotion). I should – and am – just happy he actually took the stickers in the first place … and also, he gave me a hug, so that made up for it /j.

After that lovely soundcheck somebody behind me pointed out that Kris had taken a picture of my shirt and shared it on IG!! For context Kris is probably the member I would least expect to notice me, so this felt big!!! Now I started to feel semi anxious since it occurred to me that the boys HAD indeed taken the time to look at the shirts and so there was a chance, they’d wear them at some point. In my mind that ‘some point’ would be somewhere in the future but another fan made me hopeful for the possibility that they might choose to wear the shirts tonight.

However first we had MRFY entertain us on stage, and they were a vibe. I loved their silly costumes and the frontman’s fluffy blue guitar.

After their set the music started building up, and I felt the adrenaline kicking in. And yet despite everything, I was indeed not prepared. Seeing Jure with my scribbles on his body I fell to the ground screaming only to get up confused the next second because it was not the shirt, I’d expected Jure to wear: instead of his own face he wore the face of Bojan. Everything clicked when Bojan ran tumbling in with his arms outstretched and I saw that he wore Jure’s shirt. With no sleeves on either none the less but honestly I think they look better this way!!

Safe to say the concert was up to an insane start for me. So let’s get to the songs one by one (you’ll understand how I can do this later):

Muzika za Decu started out the set and I will say it’s a great opener – good to get people to sing along and the energy was contagious!! NGVOT without Kris on lead was a strange experience (let the boy sing his own song, gosh darnit!!). I hadn’t expected to be this hype for Stephanie but having Jure fooling around with a boombox made me wonderfully giddy. And also the fact I could now see him and Bojan interact with my shirts on full display for everybody to see and take photos/pictures of. (below: Jure and Bojan in "the shirts" during Stephanie, unedited)

After an adorable Bojan-Kiki hug (I think it was Kiki’s birthday? I remember we sang the happy birthday melody to him?) and a good few of the greatest hits (Tokio, Ona and VDG) we got our next taste of a new song live, Ako Toga Više Neće Biti, where Jan joined behind the piano (had not expected that for this song but oh well, it sounded good!). Then it was time to my favourite angst song (Everybody’s Waiting) before Bojan started making frames with his hands. What I gathered from my limited – cough nonexistent – serbian vocabulary, he was talking about having to look picture perfect and how that fits with the next song aka Plastika.

Katrina gave way into Mesto Duhov and as I had expected the song slaps live!! Especially the ‘papapapa’. Bojan got an acoustic guitar partway through the song and got us to play with the dynamics of the crowd’s singalong (or maybe more correctly put it; our volume) which was fun. The combination of Sonce and Vse Kar Vem hit hard especially for the person right behind me. She was so touched that she cried: I turned around and gave her a hug which I am not sure if helped or not. Gola sounded lovely as usual.

Another unfair pairing was Lips and Demoni since both featured Bojan being possessed by his inner growling beast and dang it gave me weak knees (almost as weak as those few more times I caught his eyes and felt my legs sink to the floor – oh and Nace held my eyes and smiled so heartwarmingly I started happy stimming. Jan and I had a fun little nonverbal interaction of cunty head movements so that was fun too). Speaking of cunt, Sta Bih Ja was just as county as always – I love seeing Bojan being so dramatic during this song!!!! I was surprised that we got Omamljeno Telo after that, but it fit the cunty vibe for sure.

Ne Bi Smel with Jure in front was also great and then we got to Carpe Diem. Everything seemed great until I realized that the boys had kind of wrapped up their set without having played Bluza!!! That didn’t seem right to me, especially since they had promised to play all the new songs for us on this tour. Luckily they went back for an encore containing three more outings, the first being my beloved Bluza. It is definitely different where the new version had Jan on keys and Bojan not playing around with the notes as much in the chorus yet I still enjoyed hearing it.

Umazane Misli was Umazane Misli – ngl I spend most of my time during the song tailing the guys still on stage to see what shenanigans they were up to while Bojan went to do karaoke with people. In best Joker Out fashion we ended with Novi Val where Bojan suddenly went away (I later learned he’d taken a selfie) leaving the other four to bathe in the spotlight. (below: Joker Out "ending" their set after Carpe Diem ... only to come back for an encore, unedited)

All in all the set was jam packed and omg people were generous with their gifts – I am so happy that most of the things thrown on stage were plushies and if people wanted the chance to gift them something more sturdy like sunglasses or bracelets that was given by hand. Not that I can say anything given my behavior at soundcheck.

I didn’t even try to get a setlist today. Instead, I went towards the merch to check out the goods and to hope to be near when the boys hopefully would come out to stamp us. There was some confusion about where to go but then we noticed two rows being made in front of security, so after paying for a shirt and a cd I went down in the back of one of these queues. Bojan also found his trumpet and played some notes for us (starting to sound pretty good!) yet I was too far back to actually see him.

I had taken my Bluza shirt off in hopes of getting it stamped and as soon I was in front the guys I immediately blurted out that I was the one making the shirts and when they acted positively to that information, I showed Bojan the ‘are you’ tattoo. He seemed very happy and seemed to recognize it from somewhere (although there is no way he could have, unless the sneaky bastard actually saw my story of it back in august without letting me know!!) He, Nace and I am pretty sure at least one more member – but I cannot recall who – giggly ‘are you’ed me when seeing the tattoo and I was so taken aback I blanked for a few seconds. Because of this I only managed to get three stamps before being thrown out by security (I guess the minute I took speaking with the guys was too long). The boys shouted ‘thank you for the shirts’ after me.

When the stamping was over another security person went to me and the fan I was talking to and handed us some setlists the band must’ve had in the back (the whole thing of the guy singling me out to gift the setlist to was what mostly threw me off but in a good way). Then the joker out car was driven up all the way up to the door where the guys immediately jumped inside after half a second of waving at us (all except Nace who took a few seconds to wave after I bid him goodbye). It was weird the windows of the car were see-through so we could see them sit down and fumble with the light inside before driving off.

As it often happens after a gig, we were a group hanging out just to gather our thoughts when we suddenly noticed Kiki moving around. One of the people in our group really wanted to talk with him yet was unsure how to approach him so I took the initiative to go and say hi. We got to chat a bit about the show and the tour where I sneaked in some ‘maybe consider denmark’ propaganda. Being prompted by another fan I also randomly started sharing the story about how I’ve been on stage with Käärijä two months before. After a good long talk – and a few pictures- we said goodbye to Kiki and later we also thanked Vita for the show when she got into the van. With the last of the crew driving off we finally dismantled the group and went home (none of us had wanted the day to end). I managed to get two hours of sleep before having to travel home to Denmark. Writing this I have a bit of a post-concert cold but otherwise I feel great and blessed once again. (below: me and Kiki, unedited)

Underneath here I’ve added a picture of all the merch, freebies and souvenirs I got from this trip. The Zagreb magnet is from Sunday when I went to a Christmas market around the capital while everything saying Slovenia or Ljubjana was from Monday where I had half a day in Joker Out’s city being a silly tourist. I also got a sticker for the Ljubjana gig the week before yet I can’t seem to find it so that sucks a bit. Thank you to everybody who gave me things whether it was a bracelet, a smile, a good conversation or in other ways contributed to me having a great time. I love you and here’s to hopefully more Joker Out gigs to come!! (don't mind it being upside down :'D)