#anyway it’s taking all my strength not to make a new oc

[viric-dreams]

There was a silver lining to Jones’ stressful mission infiltrating the Koloman Delegation during the Games. He’d managed to make a friendly contact—a surface spy from Cornwall, who found the goings-on just as ridiculous as he did. But her bosses told her to come down to the Neath, so here she was.

The Cornish Koloman at least had a sense of humour about it. And the longer they spoke, the more affinity he had for her. This seemed to be reciprocal, with the interest she’d taken in him. She didn’t know his role, but seemed generally sympathetic toward the cause. Perhaps she could be turned.

Following her departure to the surface, they kept in touch, their letters decidedly friendly in nature, but always with the undercurrent of something else. She’d mention updates from the surface, vaguely allude to the pieces moving above, hints that may be useful. Perhaps she’d suspected his allegiances and wanted to offer something of use. It’s unlikely to be simply friendly small talk—she’s clever, after all.

As time went on and the constable’s menacing weighed heavier and heavier on him, it became more and more difficult to write. His letters would be equally sociable in nature, each piece of correspondence dutifully reported up the chain, but slower, each letter needing longer and longer to write.

He was hardly working anymore. What was the point with the walls closing in on him? If the Constable wouldn’t get him, his own side would. The surveillance was constant now. They were gearing up to make a move, he could feel it. He’d meant to write some sort of a goodbye, yet it had somehow gotten buried in the pile—too many affairs to get in order. He’d probably forgotten something important, but he’d long since stopped keeping track of the things he’d forgotten. He regrets not writing a final letter.

[colddelusionsheep]

So, this is my start of yandere hunger games, and before y'all read this. There are some things to take note of.

Everyone romantic (and y/n) is 18 or older. I am not going to mention age unless the story requires it.

This is going to be ocs x reader, and it will be based on the hunger games(with some differences.

The reader will also be fem.

And that is it! I hope you enjoy, and if you do, feel free to like and reblog(dni if you are under 18 tho)

2nd Part

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The reaping

Humming softly, you buttoned up the last two buttons on your dress. The light green was worn with a few stitched up parts where the fabric use to be ripped. It was old and has seen better days, but even with those details, it still was the nicest thing you owned.

You hoped you could wear it again someday. A wish that you had each year during the reaping, and so far it came true each time. People would comment on how lucky you were to avoid the reaping each time. Weeping love ones of the reaped would curse your name and say you somehow cheated to save your own skin.

You don't blame them. With how many times you have sold your name to this game that is hell. You should of been reaped a long time ago.

Even you didn't know how your name wasn't pulled. The suppose luck that people would attribute to your was no where to been seen on any other day of the year. It was only on this one. However, if it was seen on any other day then maybe you wouldn't be so closed to starving each day.

Reaching down, you pulled your worn socks to your knees. Patches were half hazerdly stitched onto them. Soon you would need new socks and shoes for the winter. You would have to decide on which. Shoes seemed to be the priority in your mind. What good were socks without shoes anyway.

Giving one last look in your mirror. You let out a deep sigh. All you had to do is survive one more time. Then you would be forever free of this life. Once you were free from the reaping, maybe you would finally be accepted in district 12.

The walk to the town square was always a silent one. Each person was getting ready to die. You always thought that the suspense was the worst thing about this. The knowledge that it could be you was nerve wracking to say the least.

Passing by one of your neighbors, you could Hear them mutter under their breath. "I hope it's you."

The rumors you got use to, it was just part of your everyday life by now. Being the outcast was a role you took with stride. What you didn't get use to was the fact that many of those that live close to you wished you dead.

Just like they wished your parents dead, and it was a wish they got. Maybe they would get this wish also.

The check ins went by like a blur. A yearly routine that you would never have to do again. There was peace in that thought, and that peace would surely give you the strength to make it through this. No matter how false it may be.

Taking place behind Susie Mack, you took note of how nice her dress was. The blue color complemented her bright red hair. She even had matching blue ribbons in her two braids.

Late at night, you liked to imagine what it was like to be her, to be Susie Mack. Almost everyone loved her. She was bright and cheerful. You supposed it was easy to be bright and cheerful when you had a full stomach and a loving family. What you would give to be her. To be loved and beautiful. To not have to worry on whether you would have shoes for the winter or food in your stomach.

You hoped that she wouldn't be reaped, simply for the fact that you knew if she was. Then the entire district would come for you. You don't want to imagine how they would punish you this time.

The escort of the Capital made his appearance, and just like every year. His fashion sense was..... lacking.

A mix of fine fabrics made up his outfit, along with a mix of patterns. You were sure that his clothes had every color known to man. Diamonds littered his neck on their choker that they wore.

You couldn't imagine that he were comfortable. Tight and stiff silhouettes seemed to be the main trend in the Capital this year.

As the escort made the same speech that they did every year. You could feel the anxiety of the crowd. It was getting close to the pulling of the names.

You could practically feel the heart beating of each person here. Looking around, you could even see some of the younger ones silently crying.

The two large crystal vessels were brought out. Each full of names. If you did your math right, yours should be in there 80 times.

"Now, as always, ladies first." You never noticed how gentle his voice was. It reminded of the stream your parents use to take you too. The sound of the water would always make sooth you matter how upset you may of been. It was just too bad that that stream turned into a raging river.

"Our female tribute is." He, as always, paused for dramatic effect. " --/n"

Ringing, that's all you could hear, it wasn't till someone shook you that you could fully understand what was said. It wasn't till the peacekeepers roughly pulled you out of your spot that you understood that your wish was finally ignored. It wasn't till the dammed Capital escort kissed your cheek, and spoke of how lucky you were that you understood that luck was just a lie. That the odds were and would never be in your favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And the 1st part of the yandere hunger games is done! Hopefully I will have the next part soon. I did write this part very late at night so the are probably mistakes but that is okay.

Also, sorry I was gone so long, school really took everything happy that was in me away. Good news tho, I am graduated!. My blog is going to be open to asks and all, but for right now requests are going to be closed untill I feel more confident in my writing. It should be a lot more active now however!

That's all for right now! Love y'all <3

[willalove75]

The Estate | Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!oc

WHAT DAY IS IT?! IT'S MY BIRTHDAY?! WOOHOO!!! I hope you all join me as I enter the final year of my 20s! And since one of my love languages is gift-giving, I am giving you all a present today! I debated on releasing this earlier this summer but I wanted to get a few chapters done before I did - and get a little further into Alcina's New Maid before I started putting out chapters. But ANM will still be updated weekly! Fear not! (And I know chapter 16 is late, I didn't get to finish it yesterday so I will finish it either today or tomorrow I promise!) Ideally, I would love to update this fic weekly as well but I just don't know if that is realistic so I am aiming for a bi-weekly or monthly update for this. Might be a little more frequently, might not. So I apologize in advance for irregular updates for this until I can get myself on a reasonable writing schedule! I do have a couple of chapters done already but I want to try and have a few chapters lined up as they're released. Unlike ANM where I literally brain-dump each chapter each week (usually done in a single day) and post it after I read it over a couple of times. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this fic since it's been rotting my brain for MONTHS and I literally have not been able to stop thinking about it and coming up with ideas/expanding on my ideas literally every fucking day for the last like, 4 months? LOL

Summary: It's been a tough few years for you. After a tragedy that left you to raise your three year old, Emma, as a single parent, you're finally starting to get back on your feet. Recently hired as a marketing & social media strategist for Dimitrescu Estate, a new chapter of your life is just beginning.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: Slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, flirty

I'll add more tags as needed!

Notes: I know I have so many other requests I should be doing but once again my mind has been plagued by this story I came up with and I need to get it out of my headddd.

Also, this is a blended oc/reader fic. Using "you" has become so engrained into my writing it's almost impossible to not add it (as opposed to writing she/her), but I will be giving the oc a name and describing her! Ik that's not everyone's cup of tea so I apologize in advance but I hope you enjoy it regardless! It'll be written in a similar fashion as Safety and Dimitrescu Books for those of you who are wondering what that will be like and/or read those (fucking amazing and wonderful) fics!

You take in the beautiful field around you, the crystal blue sky, the tall grass blowing in the breeze. Even though you have no idea where you are, it's warm and you have a fullness in your heart you haven't felt in a long time. In the distance you spot a familiar figure.

"It can't be-" you begin to say.

The figure continues to walk in your direction, but doesn't seem to get any closer. You begin to take a few steps forward, your legs feel like lead, slowing your movements. You try to run but you can't - desperate to get closer to the figure. You try and cry out to them but there's no sound when you scream. Using all of your power to move forward, each step becomes more difficult than the last. The figure walking towards you stops and stands still. With tears in your eyes you try and cry out again, and just like last time, there's no sound. The figure begins to move forward again. This time it finally seems like it's coming closer. Their face covered by shadow. You take step after step, using all of your strength to make your way to the figure. You're almost close enough to make out their face as tears stain your cheeks.

You're jolted awake by your alarm clock. Groaning, you reach over to the nightstand to shut it off. Looking down at your pillow you see teardrops scattered across it. Wiping your eyes you realize you were crying in your sleep again. You look up at the clock. 6am. You put your head back down and turn to the other side, reaching your arm across the empty side of the bed. Gently grabbing the pillow next to you, you take a deep, grounding breath and finally get up.

You exit your room and quietly open the other bedroom door. Inside is your three year old daughter, Emma, fast asleep in her toddler bed. Closing the door you make your way into the bathroom and turn the shower on. Pulling your hair out of it's messy ponytail you begin to undresses. Catching a glance of yourself in the mirror, the darkness hides most of what you see. Unless Emma is with you, every shower you've taken for the last two years has been in the dark. You had grown tired of looking into the mirror and seeing the dark circles under your eyes, noticing that you had lost weight - just looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing a shell of your former self. Even though you feel like you've been able to reclaim a lot of yourself in the last year, you always have a feeling of emptiness looming in your chest.

After showering you check the baby monitor, noticing Emma is beginning to stir, you quickly get dressed and walk into the bedroom. You make you way over to the toddler bed and sit on the edge, running your fingers through the little girls wild curls.

"Good morning my love." You quietly say.

The little girl turns her head and looks up at you, a sleepy smile crosses her face.

"Good morning mommy." She says with a yawn.

"Come on baby, lets get you up." You say, reaching down to pick up the girl, who sits up and reaches for you.

Lifting Emma out of the bed, she cuddles into your neck. You hold the back of her head and take a deep breath in, the empty ache in your chest eases some. After entering the kitchen you put the girl in her booster seat at the table and begin making breakfast for the both of you.

After breakfast you clean up the kitchen and get Emma dressed and put her in the playpen in the living room with her toys while you finish getting yourself ready.

You finish packing up the diaper bag and throwing a few of Emma's toys into another bag. After grabbing the rest of your own things you take Emma out of the playpen and head downstairs.

"Good morning Margie." You say.

"Oh Katie! Good morning!"

A small, elderly woman gets up from the kitchen table and walks up to the two of you.

"Good morning Margie!" Emma says.

"And good morning to you too princess." She says, squeezing the baby's chubby cheeks. "You want coffee hon?"

"No thanks, I'll grab something on my way, I don't want to be late."

"Oh right! Today's the first day of that new job, how are you feeling?"

"I'm excited, I'm looking forward to working in my field again."

"That's great but you know that's not what I meant." She says flatly. "How are you feeling?"

Knowing what she means you look down for a moment and then back up at Margie.

"I'm okay, I'm hanging in there." Margie gives you a look. "I mean, barely, but I'm hanging in there. I'm terrified to leave her." You say looking at Emma as your eyes begin to gloss over. "But I know it's what I have to do, and I really do miss working, I need some sort of normalcy back in my life."

Margie brings her hand to your face and wipes away the stray tear that fell.

"You're gonna do great kid. Knock 'em dead." She says with a smile and pats Katie's cheek.

"Thanks Marge."

With Emma and your things in tow you head to the car, putting Emma in her car seat and dropping your bags in the front passenger seat. When you pull out of the driveway you beep and wave at Marge who's waving from the front door and head off.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Emma says.

"Yes baby, what is it?"

"I want Baby Shark!"

You groan a little, it's just barely 8am and you haven't had coffee, Baby Shark may actually make you snap right now.

"Mommy pleaseeeee!" Emma whines.

"Okay fine."

Her whining is so much worse than Baby Shark, so you oblige. The music starts and Emma starts laughing and clapping her hands and sings along. You do your best to drown it out with your thoughts.

"Mommy! Sing Mommy shark!"

Looking at the girl through the rearview mirror you smile.

"Okay, okay." You say. "Mommy shark do do do do do do, Mommy shark do do do do do do Mommy shark!"

Emma squeals with happiness, you can listen to her laugh all day. It's one of the few things that's been able to get you through the last couple of years.

Pulling up to your in-laws house, you grab the diaper bag, Emma's toys and Emma and head to the front door.

"Nana!!!" Emma squeals when your mother-in-law opens the door.

"Good morning my baby!" She says as she picks Emma up and squeezes her. "Good morning Katie." She hugs you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Morning mom." You say and hug her back. "Thank you so much for watching her, really."

"Of course, I'd do anything for my grandbaby!" She says putting Emma down so she can go play. "Come in, sit."

"I can only stay for a minute, I gotta grab coffee on my way."

"Oh nonsense, I'll make you some and send you with one of our travel mugs, don't waste your money."

Her kindness makes you smile. Not only does your mother-in-law make the best coffee you've ever had, her warmth is always something that's comforted you. After you take a seat at the kitchen table you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Who's in my house?!" You hear a voice playfully yell.

Emma's squealing laugh rings through the house as you hear footsteps walk towards the direction she ran off in. Your mother-in-law puts a cup of coffee down in front of you and the smell is to die for.

"Thanks mom." You say with a smile.

"Good morning sunshine!" Looking over you see your father-in-law with Emma in his arms.

"Morning dad." You say as he kisses you on the cheek.

"Oh coffee? Michelle can you make me a cup?" He asks, looking over at his wife.

"Of course."

"So Katie, you excited for your first day at the new job?" He asks.

"I am, a little nervous, but I'm excited to start working again."

"Yeah it's about time." He says playfully.

"Richard." Michelle hisses as she puts his coffee down in front of him.

"I'm only joking!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and sits down at the table. "So which vineyard are you working at again?"

"Dimitrescu Estate."

"Oh right, I've been there a few times, it's a nice place. Very pretty, and they have great wine." She says.

"What are you doing there?" Richard asks.

"Marketing and social media, pretty much the same thing I did at the last place."

"That's right."

Looking down at your watch you realize the time.

"Crap I have to go or I'm gonna be late." You say, getting up.

Michelle gets up, grabs your coffee cup and pours it into a travel mug, pops the top onto it and hands it to you.

"There you go sweetheart."

"Thanks mom." You say, hugging her.

"Okay love, mommy has to go, have fun with Nana and Pop!" You place a kiss on Emma's head and the baby's face scrunches, signaling she's about to wail.

"Hey Emma? Wanna go to the park with me?" Richard asks.

Her face lights up at the word "park", meltdown averted.

"YES!" She screams.

"Thank you." You whisper to Richard and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you so much for looking after her." You say as you head towards the door.

"We'll take her any day of the week!" Richard says.

"Love you honey." Michelle says.

"Love you guys too!"

"Good luck!" Richard calls out after her.

Once you're out the door Michelle swats Richard with a dishtowel.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"'About time?' Really Richard?" She scolds him.

"What? I was kidding, she knows I was!"

Michelle rolls her eyes at him and leaves the kitchen.

You jump into your car and plug in the address of the vineyard. You had been there a few years ago when you went to the wineries with your friends; hopping to and from the various establishments in the area, but that was it. Your first interview was over the phone, the second one, a Zoom interview, you couldn't even see your new boss' face because her webcam was broken. All you were able to hear was the woman's voice. It had a silky tone - sultry, even - if you were being honest. Aside from that, you knew nothing about her, you really weren't even sure if the woman you spoke with was the owner or just an employee.

Pulling up to the vineyard you put your car in park. You pull your necklace out of your shirt and hold onto it, your fingers tracing the outline of the heart shape. After taking a deep breath and exhaling, you drop the necklace back down under your shirt. You grab your bags and head inside.

The memories of the time you and your friends were here come flooding back as you walk in. You admire the ornate style of the room - it's just as pretty as it was when you were here last. As you look around you spot a beautiful grand piano tucked away in the corner and you take note of the jazz music softly playing over the speakers.

"Sorry, we don't open until 11." A slightly aggravated voice says.

You look over and see a young girl cleaning the bar, looking at you, visibly annoyed. She can't be older than 20, dark brown, almost black hair. She's wearing a tight black t-shirt with various silver necklaces dangling from her neck.

"Oh, I'm Katie, the new marketing and social media strategist."

The girls demeanor softens, but not much.

"MOM!!" She yells towards the back. "MOM!!!"

A blond girl runs out from the kitchen area.

"Cassandra shut it, mom's on the phone!"

The dark haired girl, Cassandra, rolls her eyes.

"Can you take her to go see mom?" She asks the blond, nodding towards you.

"Nope, sorry, I have to go, I have class in a little bit."

"Bela pleaseeeee." Cassandra whines.

"No Cass, I'm leaving, bye!" The blond disappears into the kitchen again and Cassandra rolls her eyes.

"Follow me."

She leads you to the back of the winery where the offices are. There aren't many offices, but in each one there's someone diligently working.

Cassandra stops at the door furthest away and throws it open.

"Mom!"

The woman behind the desk snaps her attention up to her daughter with intensity in her eyes. Her phone pressed against her ear. She holds a finger up to Cassandra signaling for her to wait, but never breaks eye contact with her.

The woman is beautiful. Jet black hair with near perfect curls that fall just under her jawline. Gorgeous grey-blue eyes, full lips painted with the perfect shade of crimson red. She's wearing a white button down, the first few buttons undone - just enough to show off her large chest but covered up enough to still be professional. The sleeves are neatly rolled to her elbows, you also take note of her perfectly manicured nails, painted black. She's wearing layered, elegant gold necklaces that accentuate her neckline. She has a few rings and a matching bracelet on to pull the look together.

"Am nevoie de transport până săptămâna viitoare. . . Nu, abia așteaptă. . . Trebuie să plec. . . La revedere."

(I need the shipment by next week. . . No, it can't wait. . . I have to go. . . Goodbye.)

She places the phone into its cradle and her eyes snap back to Cassandra.

"What have I told you about yelling across the building?" Her voice is stern, matching the intensity in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I-"

"Were you dying?"

"What?"

Her question surprised and confused you too.

"Were you dying?"

"No?"

"Was one of your sisters dying or gravely injured?"

"No."

"Was there any emergency whatsoever?"

Cassandra sighs. "No."

"Then there is no reason for you to be screaming across my tasting room. Understood?"

"Yes mom." She says, hanging her head.

"Now what is it that you needed?" The woman's tone softens.

"The new girl is here. The social media whatever?"

The woman groans, putting her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"Cassandra. You act like that in front of our new employee?" She grumbles. "Go, finish your morning tasks." She says, waving the girl off.

Cassandra lets out an exaggerated "UGH" accompanied by a dramatic eye roll and begins to walk away.

"Și dacă nu remediați această atitudine, vă voi trimite înapoi în România." She calls after her.

(And if you don't fix that attitude I will ship you back to Romania.)

"Sorry mom." Cassandra looks at her mom who raised eyebrow at her.

The woman nods her away.

"I apologize for that, she can be quite difficult sometimes." She says as her eyes follow her daughter while she walks away. When Cassandra is out of view her eyes snap to you.

"Oh, it's no worry at all." You say with a soft smile.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, take a seat." She gestures to the chair in front of her desk.

The woman reaches her hand out across her desk as you sit.

"Alcina Dimitrescu, owner and operator of Dimitrescu Estate."

Your hand meets hers for a firm handshake. "Katie Moore, it's great to finally meet you as well."

"Is Katie short for anything?" She asks.

"Uh, yeah, Kathleen." You say.

"Kathleen, what a beautiful name. Do you prefer Katie over Kathleen?"

"Oh it doesn't really matter to me. I'll respond to both."

"Wonderful. Well then Kathleen, welcome. We'll go over the job responsibilities. I'll have you fill out some paperwork and then I'll show you around the facility."

"Sounds good."

Alcina goes over what the job requirements are, what she expects of you, where the person who was in your position had left off, the usual.

"And you will get a company laptop, you can leave it here, take it home, doesn't matter much to me. As long as it's well taken care of." She picks up the phone and presses a few numbers on t he keypad and you hear the intercom go off.

"Cassandra, my office please." She hangs the phone up and looks back at you. "Cassandra has set up your laptop, if there's anything else you need, any programs you use that aren't installed, she can take care of that for you."

Cassandra walks into the office, seemingly in a better mood than earlier.

"What's up mom?"

"Can you please bring me Kathleen's laptop."

"On it." She says and walks away.

"Now for the paperwork. I'll have you fill out these and then I'll take down some of your information." She says as she hands you a W2 and some other new employee paperwork.

She hands you a pen and you begin to fill out the paperwork on her desk as she turns her attention back to her computer.

"Here you go mom." Cassandra says, handing her mom a laptop box.

"Thank you draga. Almost done with your morning tasks?"

"Yup, just gotta put out the spill trays and then I'm done."

"Excellent, thank you draga mea."

Cassandra leaves as you finish filling out the paperwork. You trade her the paperwork for the laptop box and place it on the chair next to you.

"Okay, now I just need some of your information."

She takes down your address, phone number, birthdate, etc.

"And who is your emergency contact? God forbid something were to happen."

"Uh, Jake-" You stop yourself, shaking your head as you feel your heart sink. "Sorry, uh," Alcina looks at you over her reading glasses. "It'll be my mom, I guess, Deborah Wilson."

Alcina takes down your moms information and places her glasses on her desk.

"Excellent, now that that's out of the way, I will show you the facility. You can leave your things here."

Alcina pushes her chair away from her desk and stands up, you're taken back at how tall she is. She's damn near 7 feet tall. Alcina is easily a foot taller than you. With your work heels you're 5'4" on a good day. In her heels, Alcina is easily 6'5"-6'6".

You take notice of Alcina's full outfit - and her body. Her black stilettos, high waisted, wide legged dress pants accentuate her long legs. A thick belt with a black belt buckle that frames her waist, showing off her round hips. Her ensemble is reminiscent of the 1940s-1950s, but with a modern twist. It's obvious she has a great sense of style.

Alcina walks effortlessly through the halls in her stilettos as she shows you around the facility. She tells you what each room is, what its purpose is for and tells you a little bit of history of the place. She explains that there are a few other buildings on the property where the grapes are sent to and where the wine is made and bottled, but that this is the main building. Alcina takes you through the kitchen and into the vineyard a bit to show the different grapes that are put into making the wine.

Next on the tour, she brings you down into the wine cellar. You were expecting a dreary basement, but you're surprised when you see a beautiful wine cellar. It looks like something out of a movie.

Wine racks line the walls from floor to ceiling, housing hundreds - maybe even a thousand - bottles of wine. The stone archway along with the wooden accents and shelves give the room a rustic yet elegant feel. There's a gorgeous wooden table in the center with four chairs. The set looks like it's custom made.

As you look around the room you see Alcina walk over to one of the racks. She moves a wine barrel to the side like it weighed nothing.

"Even if that thing is empty, it still has to weigh a ton." You think to yourself.

Alcina examines the rack and carefully pulls a bottle off of it.

"And this, this is what started it all." She says, handing you the bottle.

As you examine the bottle you note the beautiful gold and red details around it. It looks expensive. The label on the front reads:

"Sanguis Virginis."

"Precisely, Romanian for Maiden's Blood." Alcina says with a smile as she takes the bottle and returns it to its place.

You don't even realize the confused expression on your face until you hear Alcina chuckle at it.

"Obviously, not made with real blood. My ancestors originate from Romania, my great-grandfather it was I believe who first began making Sanguis Virginis, well over a hundred years ago at his vineyard in Romania. Eventually the business was passed down to me, however I decided to take it in a bit of a different direction. Since I was already established here in the US when I acquired the business, I purchased this property and turned it into what it is today. We've expanded our collection and now we make over 25 different wine. And I import other things such as ciders and beers from both Romania and local breweries for our customers to enjoy. No longer do we just make and sell the wine to distributers."

Alcina looks around the wine cellar with pride, you can see the passion for her family's business in her eyes.

"Any questions?"

"No, I think you covered everything. It's beautiful down here."

"Why thank you. The cellar is my personal favorite room on the entire property."

"I can see why, it's stunning."

You take in the rest of your surroundings. The warm wood absorbs the lighting, giving the room a soft yet bright glow. It's a large cellar but somehow it still feels cozy.

"Alright, lets head back upstairs, shall we? We should be opening in a few minutes and I like to do a once-over to make sure everything is in place." Alcina says.

"Sounds good."

Alcina leads you out of the wine cellar and back up to the tasting room. Cassandra and another bartender are behind the bar, drying glasses and putting them away. Alcina swipes her finger across the piano, inspects it, and nods in approval. You notice her glace at the piano again, looking at it with adoration.

"Do you play?" You ask.

"Lifetimes ago." She says with a smile. "But I wasn't very good."

"Mom what are you talking about?" Cassandra says from the bar. "You're one of the best piano players I've ever heard."

"Thank you draga." She says, smiling at her daughter.

After her inspection is complete she walks to the front doors and opens them, pulling the doorstop down with the bottom of her heel. She flips the "closed" sign over to "open" and makes her way to the massive floor to ceiling windows that line the wall across from the bar. She unlocks each window and pushes on the side of the frame to open them, making sure each window is open at the same angle.

"She's so anal retentive when she opens." Cassandra says, half complaining and half just saying it out loud.

"I can hear you." Alcina says from across the room.

Cassandra rolls her eyes and continues to put the glasses away.

Making her way over the the double glass doors leading to the outside patio, Alcina props them open allowing a cool summer breeze through the tasting room.

She gives the room another once-over. When she's satisfied she nods to herself again and looks at Cassandra.

"Everything looks wonderful. If you need me, you know where to find me. Kathleen," She says, turning to you. "lets finish getting you set up."

Alcina leads you back to her office. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and a sudden chill runs up your spine. Quickly taking it out, you see a text from Michelle. Your heart begins to race as you open the message. A sigh of relief is released when you realize it's just some photos of Emma, covered in flour, helping Michelle make cookies.

"Everything alright?" Alcina says.

Focused on opening the text message, you didn't even realize that you stopped following Alcina.

"Oh, yes, sorry." You say as you catch up with her. "Just my mother-in-law, she's watching my daughter today and was giving me an update."

"You have a daughter?" Alcina asks, a little surprised as they walk into her office.

"Yeah, Emma, she's about 3 and a half." You say, sitting back down.

Alcina glances down at your hands, taking notice of an absent wedding ring on your left ring finger. She also notices a ring that looks like it could be a wedding band on your right ring finger.

"How sweet. It's a fun age. Although from my experience with the girls, it's the terrible three's that are the hardest. Two was an easy age."

"I wholeheartedly agree with that. She's wonderful but likes to get herself into all kinds of things. Luckily, besides her insatiable curiosity for things that can hurt her, she's a really good kid."

Alcina laughs, pulling a smile across your face.

"Children are wonderful, until they become teenagers that is. That's when the real fun begins." She says sarcastically.

"Oh, I could only imagine. It makes me cringe as a parent now when I think of all of the things I said and did when I was a teenager."

"Oh, so you were a bad kid?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

A light blush creeps across your cheeks. "I wouldn't say I was a bad kid. At least I wasn't worse than your average teenager."

Alcina gives you a smirk, the corner of her lip curled into a half smile.

"Is she flirting with me?" The thought flashes across your mind but you quickly dismiss it. This is your new boss, Alcina's just being nice, it's your first day here. There's no way she's flirting with you right now.

"So, I will show you to your office and let you get yourself settled." Alcina says.

Grabbing your bag and the laptop box, Alcina leads you to the room closest to her office and flicks the lights on.

It's a modest little office, on the left you see an L shaped desk in the corner against the glass window facing the hallway. On top sits two monitors, a desk chair and a small desk lamp. To the right is a small empty bookshelf. The office isn't anything fancy, but it's yours, and you're surprisingly excited about it.

"Please feel free to decorate it how you see fit." Alcina says, checking her watch. "I have a meeting in a few minutes, but I'll stop by again this afternoon to check and see how things are going. Cassandra should have left you a list of our social media logins." She says, walking over to the desk and picking up a sheet of paper. "Here it is. Take a look at them and when I get back I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you think they're doing and of course, what could be improved." She says, handing you the paper. "You did mention on your resume photography skills, yes?"

"Yes, and some videography and video editing skills as well."

"Excellent. The channels were being run by my eldest, Bela. But since she's has an internship beginning soon she no longer has the time. And since our last marketing director left, things have been in a bit of a disarray. Hopefully it won't be too overwhelming." She says, trying to gauge your reaction.

"I'm always up for a good challenge." You say with a smile.

Alcina gives a nod of approval and spins around on her heel to leave.

"I must be off. I'll be back in a little while to check in, if there's anything you need please seek out Cassandra. If she's doing what she's supposed to, you'll find her behind the bar in the tasting room."

"Sounds good, thank you."

"And Kathleen," Alcina says, turning back towards you. "Welcome to Dimitrescu Estate."

[the-s1lly-corner]

May I please have a request of head cannons of TADC crew dealing with a clingy kid reader

Like two of them are basically plushies (Jax and Ragtha)

And please do take your time

TADC cast x clingy!kid!reader (platonic!)

YAHOO!! my back hurts but its okay because i drew my oc looking... (checks notes) "cunty" (doesnt know if theyre using the word right) anyways gonna knock out a few more requests; got that one friendship is witchcraft song playing on loop in my headphones so im typing like a speed demon rn RAAAAAAh

CAINE:

honestly hes probably the same with you, though like. with his eyes; he keeps an eye on you at all times. like i can easily caine being kind of negligent when it comes to kids and letting them get into harms way, but i also adore the idea of him fretting over you and trying to keep you safe. does not mind your clinginess, not one bit. always keeps close in IHAs, in fact we may even be able to joke that hes now a participant in his own games! he does it for both of your comforts, and to make sure you dont get hurt.. in cases where he cant be around, for whatever reason, he promotes bubble to babysitter to keep an eye on you; i think! reads you bedtime stories every night

POMNI:

i think i may have mentioned this a few times but pomni can get a little uncomfortable around kids; kids can be really wild and/or horrifically honest with no filter and pomni does not have the mental strength to cope, digital world or not/lh

with that being said it would take her a while to get used to you gravitating around her; i dont think she would tell you to leave her alone though. i mean, she tries to put herself in your shoes. shes losing her mind in this place and shes brand new and a grown woman. how is this effecting you? so she sticks around and just. embraces it, i think. probably checks in on you when you go to bed... kind of pauses when you ask her to stay, be it because you dont want her to go or because youre scared of monsters under the bed i think she would ultimately stay by your bed in a chair and watch over you

RAGATHA:

good news for hugging her, shes very soft thanks to the fact that shes literally a doll! honestly its rare that she would tell you to step aside so she can do something; plus like caine she generally likes to keep an eye on you to make sure youre not getting into trouble or danger,,, makes you plushies so you hang onto them when shes away and you miss her. like caine she also has a bedtime routine with you. maybe its because i just watched some adventure time today, but the ritual would be similar to sweet p's bedtime ritual (bedtime cheek kisses, tucking in, reassuring that youre loved ect ect ect) idk i just think ragatha would have that kind of energy when caring for a kid reader, clingy or not

holds

JAX:

one of the two characters who might get annoyed by your clinginess, especially in the beginning (oh boy i sure wonder who the other one is (looks at zooble)) and he might try to push you away and shoo you when you try to stick around him. might feel a little bad when he sees the sad look in your eyes when you turn away and walk away. jax, feeling bad for once? now thats rare

might try to bond with you by trying to teach you his ways of trickery; no one wants to see a kid sad, especially in a place like this and i dont think jax would be immune to your pouty face. older brother and little sibling dynamic, i think! i genuinely cannot see jax being fatherly, tbh

KINGER:

DAD KINGER DAD KINGER; do i need to say more? honestly kinger is very clingy himself with the people he cares about, given that hes lost so much he wants to make sure that those he cares about are still safe and sound. if anything, you might be the one asking him to dial it down a notch!/j

lets you snuggle up into him during bedtime stories, i think! like while the others who read to you would be sitting on a chair next to the bed, kinger would be close enough for you to lean into him if that makes sense. generally very sweet to you too, i think!

ZOOBLE:

the other one who would be a little annoyed by how clingy you are, again, especially in the beginning. zooble seems to really value their own personal time and space so its likely that they would try to set up a boundary; so you probably arent going to be able to spend every waking moment with them... that said i dont think they would exactly be... mean to you... like they dont hate you, they just tend to get irritated by small things! makes very clear communication, which is an important thing to learn! teaching moment! also cannot see them picking up a parental role, i can see them being the cool but angsty older sibling tbh. probably kind of freezes up when you hug them but does not push you away. does care deeply for you, just shows it in their own unique way

GANGLE:

oh you probably accidentally drag her around without fully meaning to! i mean im not sure how old the reader is, but lets say theyre on the younger side and they dont fully. mean to just drag gangle across the room. i mean its not like youre dragging her across the floor, at least! plus gangle is just so light, given that shes totally made of ribbon in the digital world. she doesnt really mind all the much, though... even if she did im not sure if she would speak up... lets you come and go into her room whenever, since sometimes you just miss her and she has enough trust in you not to mess with anything + sometimes you guys do arts and crafts together! yipee!

[yoonkiwii]

Pieces of Love

word count: 1079

genre: exes to fwb to ???, breakup, love triangle, slowburn, eventual smut, series

summary: it's going to be a long road to redemption once yoongi breaks your heart for the last time. determined to come back to yourself, you start your journey by finally leaving his sheets. will you have the strength to push through? or will someone special stumble upon you along the way?

pairing: yoongi x oc, yoongi x oc x jungkook

warnings: angst (oops!), implied smut (minors DNI!!!), poor oc is very confused with her emotions, yoongi is possibly a jerk!, lots of conflicted emotions here, cussing, i think that's all?, yoongi is a liar, oh and everything is lowercase intentionally.

a/n: ahhh hello!!!! so, although i am no stranger to writing fics, this is my first on this new lil baby blog. this is my own long awaited return to something i never thought i'd have the courage to come back to. this series means a lot to me, and while i know i'm rather unknown, pls show this project lots of love hehe <3

if you could rewind the tapes of your life to see the exact events that led you directly to this moment unfurling in front of you, you’re not so sure you’d accept it.

the whisper of kisses gliding across your skin used to feel like sparks, tiny fires planting on every plane of your existence. but as the flares settle, all you can feel is the burn.

it’s like this every time you and your ill fated lover meet in your match of flames. dancing breaths mingling, evidence of your downpour flowing out onto his sheets, his inevitable high cascading onto your skin. drowning out the remnants of pain until reality brings you ashore, fervent lights that he reignited put out by your sea of emotional sickness.

even as you pick yourself, clothes and broken emotions off the floor, you still don’t realize that you’re being spoken to.

“___? did you hear what i said?”

ah. you just wanna go home. rinse the feeling of him and your tears down the drain.

“sorry, what was that?” your voice hoarse, proof of the number he did on you.

“you good? i actually have something serious i want to talk about.” his eyes on you, but seeing through rather than at you. you watch as they drag down your body, contemplating. as to what, you’re not so certain that you wanna know.

silence encompasses you, his words settling like a pitch black night sky over you.

“what’s up.” not your best response, but it’s not like he deserves it anyways.

“do you think… i don’t know, should we try this again? you and i?” vulnerability, something you seldom see, is adorning his face. his delivery so quiet you could act like you missed it if you really wanted to. like he really could mean it if you let yourself be delusional enough.

alas, your heart always takes the lead. your head slowly rising until you make that dreaded eye contact, the blood in your veins turning into ice as you blink, over and over again.

your expression must be the personification of a question mark, brows furrowed and cheeks rosy despite the snow storm you feel within. time feels like it’s passing so slowly that you can almost see, feel him in slow motion.

deep breath.

maybe one more.

“i– what do you mean? try what again? do i need to remind you of the last time we— im sorry. but why.” why now? what in his pea male sized brain thinks he can shake your heart like this yet again, is what you’re really wanting to say. the bubbling feelings of rage coming up your throat prevent you from unleashing months worth of hurt.

but the answer is because of you. you allow it. it’s also the reason why you don’t completely snap.

you hear the rustling of sheets as he moves to the edge of the bed, eyes downcast as you try to remember that counting thing your therapist taught you and fuck he’s reaching for your hand.

taking a sharp breath in, he smooths out your rigid fingers in an attempt to soothe you or himself, you’re not sure. but it’s not lost on you that this is the first time he’s touched you outside of when you’ve had sex in the last 8 months.

“you and i both know that we keep coming back for a reason. i love-“

“don’t. don’t you fucking dare.” looks like the anger has reached it’s boiling point, your hand being snatched away as he looks up at you in defeat. haphazardly throwing your clothes on, shame be damned as you quickly make your way to the door with your skirt not even zipped all the way up.

“you can run all you want, but you’ll be right back here again next week and you know it.” his boldness so loud it almost drowns out the self hatred of knowing he’s right. almost.

your hand brushes against the knob until it falls limp at your side. eyes closing, damn you’re too tired of this.

“what do you want, yoongi?” loss coloring your face, he thinks you look pretty when you’re sad.

“you. i want you, ___.”

“you didn’t want me when you were fucking your way through the entire city, you didn’t love me when you lied so much that even you couldn’t tell what the truth was anymore. you dont want me. you just want me to love you. you just want me to want you.” you huff out a laugh that’s meant to come out condescending, but really you just sound hurt. because you are. you are so so so tired.

“if there’s anything you could’ve learned about me in the last three years of whatever the fuck this shitshow has been, it’s that i’m stubborn. i may be wrong more often than not, but you don’t get to decide. you don’t have that control. asshole.” flicking him off for good measure, you burst open the door, not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of the last laugh as you bulldoze your way through his apartment and out the door.

fuck the elevator, you head straight for the stairs.

being in this building feels like purgatory, the memories it holds are too much to bare. not that it hasn’t stopped you in this little cat and mouse game from coming back here.

but you’ve decided. you can’t do this shit anymore. whatever spell yoongi casts on you is about to be broken, your eyes finally opening to the endless void that exists within you whenever you leave his bed. you’ve lost many friends, are losing passion for your job, and even the will to push through the darkness that swallowed you on the day your love died.

the funny thing about control is that you’ve never once had it. it used to scare the living christ out of you, but at the tender age of 27, you feel like for once it’s what you need. to let go. to be free of the shackles you place upon yourself trying to be what everyone else wants you to be.

gone are the days that you bury yourself in your bed because you’re to ashamed to face anything but your four walls. it’s not even about proving anything or anyone wrong at this point, you just want to feel again. you want joy. and you’ll have it. you know you will.

[p1a9u3]

PeepHole Ch.1: Moving Day

Masterpost Ch.1 - Ch.2 Pairing: Dylan Matthews x Fem Oc

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Genre: Neighbors/Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Fluff, Slow-burn

Summary: Moving isn't as exciting as Amoya thought, plus she may have pissed off her new neighbor.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: (This story takes place in 2024) Mental illness (anxiety, ocd), Violent intrusive thoughts, Language, Age gap (5years), Using phone while driving

Status: Unedited

Author note: This is the first fic that I've ever posted, I've written before but I've never finished anything and published it so don't tear me to shreds, please. I chose to make an oc instead of just writing as a reader mainly because I made a whole character in my head before I wrote this so I decided to just make her an oc, if you would like a post going more into this oc of mine feel free to ask (I might post it anyway because I like her), there is no smut in this chapter btw. Please give me feedback and suggestions, constructive criticism, etc. Don't be a bitch about it though...please. I'm thinking of making this a series POSSIBLY, but I procrastinate a lot so that may never happen. To my fellow troublemakers hopefully, I do Dylan justice and my writing is at least a little bit accurate to his personality. Still, to be fair I'm a fairly new troublemaker having only found out about this man a few weeks ago, so if something isn't accurate please correct me...politely. He's become my new hyper fixation so when I saw there aren't really any fics about him I decided I should make my own so here we are. Anyway with that being said Enjoy <3. Update: Dylan is barely in this chapter

Monday, February 26, 2024 Time: 8:30AM Moving out was less relieving than you thought it would be. Having been by your mother's side for almost all your life, you'd gotten comfortable always having someone around.

'You can't live with your parents forever'

People would remind you whenever the topic of anyone's living situation would be brought up. Being twenty-seven and still living with your mother wasn't something you wanted to keep telling people, no one would take you seriously. Though your mother never pushed for you to move out, never mentioned it actually. You think you know why. You never say anything though, so you deal with the slight embarrassment, and ignore the judgmental stares you get whenever someone brings it up.

'They don't know our relationship'

More excuses you make up to justify your obstinance; and to mask the anxiety you're feeling as finish up packing your U-Haul. You had finished packing your stuff from your shared apartment and were now finishing the few boxes you had in storage. Now in the elevator mustering up the strength to carry the last two boxes back down to the truck. Grabbing the lock you had left on the floor, you place it on top of one of the boxes and stack the box onto the second one, bending down and lifting with a soft grunt. Long strides carrying you to the elevator, you push the down button with your foot. The doors open soon after, you step inside setting the boxes down as you push the bottom floor and wait. Pushing off the wall as the doors open you pick up the boxes once again, you quickly load them up into the U-Haul before grabbing the padlock from on top of the box, and then heading to the front desk of the storage building.

"Here, the unit is clean and empty." You smile at the woman as she takes the lock and keys with a thank you.

Turning on your heels you walk back to your U-Haul giving everything a once-over before locking it all up, now turning your attention to the hitch attached to the back of the Truck where your precious car is hitched too. It was a black and cherry red 1993 Nissan 240SX with a red interior, you had seen it while driving with your mom past a repair shop when you were 25, back then it had no windshield or wheels. You won't lie and say you fixed it yourself but you did invest all the money you had at that time to fix it up and color it how you wanted; you still would say it was worth it. Checking the hitch and chains attached to the bottom of the car making sure everything was set and ready.

"Everything looks good?" Your mother said making you jump

"Yah! A warning ma, please! And yes everything looks good, I packed up the last two boxes and returned the keys and lock to the front desk while you were in the bathroom." You let out a breath calming your heart from the scare you just had, your mom snickering next to you. You turn to her rolling your eyes playfully as you walk to the front of the truck, your mom following behind you.

"Good, let's get on the road." Your mom hops into the passenger seat and rolls down the window. "I wanna get home by Wednesday."

You climb into the driver's seat, buckling your seatbelt then checking your mirrors. You two had agreed on driving to your new apartment, taking turns every 5 hours, once you got there she'd help you unload and unpack on Tuesday, and your mom would then fly back to New Orleans on Wednesday. The more you think about it the more you feel yourself panic a bit.

"Okay."

Time: 9:00AM Starting the car, you let out a breath putting the car in drive and pulling out of the parking lot of the storage building. You could tell your mom was trying to keep herself calm by the way she would rub her right thigh with her right hand, it was a nervous tick she passed down to you. Unfortunately, you were just as nervous, so you decided to turn on the playlist you and your mom made while eating the night before, mixes of all kinds of genres put into one playlist to keep you both entertained during the drive. Pulling off the main road and merging onto the freeway, you glance over to your mom to see her smiling wide looking back at you. She has that look in her eyes, you know it well.

"Its happening ma." You smile back at your mom then look back to the road

Your mother places her hand on your thigh, letting out a long sigh and a soft squeeze before returning it back to her own lap. You see her wipe a single tear from your peripheral; you don't acknowledge it. She'll start bawling the second you tell her not to cry. So you pretend not to see it and start singing along to Erykah Badu, your mom turns the music up a bit and starts singing along too. You smile to yourself as you glance out your side window, watching as familiar buildings pass by in a blur, You think you'll miss this place. No, you know you will, but a part of you is kinda excited, relieved almost. You've silently always longed to live on your own, but another part of you calls you selfish for even wanting that until now

'How could want to leave your mother'

You know it's normal to want to move out of your parent's home, every grown adult has to move out at some point, and twenty-seven is a perfectly normal age to do so, You wanted to move when you were twenty-four. Hell, some people live with their parents till they are far in their thirties.

'But you know your mother may need you right'

All your brothers have moved out, they are doing good on their own, and you're the only one left. It was only a matter of time; you tell yourself. Your mom will be fine, she's dating a new man who treats her great and takes care of her. Hell he tried to hire a moving crew to move all your stuff, but you wanted to do it yourself and your mom wasn't going to let you drive almost halfway across the country by yourself.

'you could've found a place closer to her you know'

Phoenix, Arizona. You chose Phenix simply because it was affordable for you and close to LA, your mom agreed it was a good choice. There is work in LA, California is just so expensive, so you chose the next best thing. The apartment is nice from what you saw as well, one bedroom, two baths with a study. It was perfect for you.

Time: 11:23AM The drive was going well so far, your mother eating a bag of chips she packed along with all the other snacks and drinks. You were eating a Honeybun, one of your favorite snacks, and drinking water. Your mom had turned off the music and started watching YouTube with mostly commentary so you could listen and drive, Right now a video was playing talking about some ice cream drama in North Dakota. Author note: if you watched this video featuring Dylan is in Trouble, I know it's technically in the future but I don't care, this is all fake anyway. You found it interesting and kinda funny, laughing every now and then when your mom would pause to add her opinion. About two-thirds of the way into the video you glance down at the screen, there are two guys now instead of one, and one of them is wearing glasses, you glance back down looking at the title of the video 'Insane Local Ice Cream Shop Drama (w/ Dylan Is In Trouble)' You made a mental note of the second guy's name for later, his voice was nice you told yourself, he was also fine as fuck. You leaned your seat back as far as it would go, which wasn't very far, getting comfortable. You still have two more hours left to drive.

Time: 12:35PM Your mom had fallen asleep about ten minutes ago, YouTube was still playing, The next video had been the same guy as before. You looked down for a second, looking at the title of the video that had been playing for about fifteen minutes. 'Guessing Finales After ONE Episode (ft. Dylan Is In Trouble)' You smile to yourself a bit recognizing the name at the end of the title, you let the video play just listening to the guy talk for ten more minutes. You caught yourself smiling again when you recognized the second guy's voice as he joined in for the rest of the video, you took a sip of your water glancing down at the video, seeing him pop on screen whenever he had something to say

"he's funny." You mutter to yourself quietly, thinking out loud.

The video had ended and your lips fell back into their original position, as an ad played before the next queued-up video, you looked down at your GPS. 1322 miles to go; you let out a sigh.

'200 miles closer to leaving you mom'

She was helping you unpack, so you technically wouldn't be leaving her really. If anything she was leaving you since she had to fly back home. You prop your left elbow on the open window, your left hand holding the steering wheel, and your right hand comes down to your thigh, rubbing small circles back and forth.

'What happens if Devon goes back home'

Your oldest brother Devon was working at a mental facility. He was on his medication and was doing good, he managed to get a job there and has been making decent money. He was doing fine, He is doing fine.

'What if he stops taking his medication again.'

They will keep tabs on him, they know his habits, his symptoms, He is fine.

'Has another episode and gets out'

That wouldn't happen. He's fine

'He'll be there when mom gets back'

No.

"Hes gonna ki-'

-beep! beep! beep!-

Time: 2:00PM Your mom's alarm goes off, making you jump a bit. Reaching over to turn it off, your mom moans a bit as she wakes up from her short nap, stretching her arms a bit as she yawns.

"Jeste li spremni za promjenu." she yawns out, going for a sip of her water ( translation: Are you ready to switch)

Your mother's Croatian tends to slip when she's just woken up, or delirious. You nod your head looking at the next exit sign to find a gas station, spotting a Love's off the side of the freeway. Slipping off the freeway you pull up to the gas station before parking next to a pump.

"Bathroom?" You look over at your mom, she nods, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping out of the truck, you do the same.

You both enter opposing stalls to relieve yourselves of all the water you had been drinking, washing your hands after. Your mother heads back to the truck to pump the gas as you browse the aisles for any extra snacks, spotting a honeybun you instinctively grab one, then two, and head to the cashier. You place your honeybuns on the counter and then look up at the cashier who seems to be invested in something on her phone, she wasn't wearing headphones phone volume at maybe thirty percent, you could hear what she was watching. You recognize the voice, the cashier finally looks up from her phone quickly apologizing for not paying attention.

"Oh I'm so sorry, will this be all" She quickly rings up the two honeybuns.

"No you're fine, that'll be it actually." You dismissively wave your hand pulling out your wallet to pay.

Looking down you notice her phone, she had put it on the counter, and the video on it had been paused but on the screen was that guy again, though it seemed to be a video of his own this time. You pull out some cash and hand it to the young woman behind the counter, she takes the cash, counts it, and then goes to get your change.

"No, it's fine, keep the change" Flashing a smile then grabbing your honeybuns you take another glance at the women's screen before it turns off from being left alone for too long.

Opening the passenger seat door, you climb into the seat buckling yourself in. Pulling out of the gas station your mom pulls off back onto the freeway continuing your journey. You pull out the bag you had brought for little activities, pulling out your book of choice. You had splurged at a Barnes and Noble a few weeks before you began packing, picking up a bunch of books you had either heard good things about or had been wanting to read. Red Rising was one of the books, it was also the one you were currently holding.

"I'm gonna put my headphones on, so you can listen to whatever you want." You tell your mom as you put your headphones on and pull out your phone.

You had gotten the book on Audible a while back and wanted to read and listen at the same time. Pressing play you turn to the first chapter and begin reading as the narrator spoke. Your mom seemed to have put music on, you could feel the bass as she turned up the volume and began singing along.

Time: 10:56PM Hours had passed, it was your turn now with two hours left till your next switch. Your mother was knocked out, lightly snoring as you drove in silence, you had stopped reading once you had switched. You also decide to put off reading it until you were moved in, the book had grabbed your attention, so much so, that you wanted to be able to focus on it solely; so you chose to wait. You had a couple hundred miles left to go and things were sinking in more as you drove silently. Your mind doing its usual thing, making you worry about things that most likely won't happen, even if it did, you know it wouldn't be your fault. You couldn't help but think maybe it would be though, it was a dumb thought but you couldn't help it

'What was that guys name again'

Your brain blanked for a second, random but ok, your brain goes back to the YouTube video your mom had been watching, that cashier was watching him as well. Dylan is in Trouble, you wonder what kind of videos he makes, most likely commentary. You pull your phone out glancing down and go to YouTube, you use the voice to text and hold your phone up to your mouth.

"Dylan is in trouble"

You press search, going back and forth between looking at your phone and watching the road. You look down to find his channel, press his icon, and scroll through some of his videos. Movie commentary is what you mostly see, occasionally you'd spot something different, you decided you'd dive into his channel later when you weren't driving.

Time: 5:00AM You were in the driver's seat, you had let your mom sleep more after she had been driving for about three hours. She was up now though, you could tell things were starting to catch up to her again. She was fidgeting a lot more now, well so were you, she looked very tense. She helped you find this apartment, but you assume she wants to see the neighborhood for herself, in person, wants to see how good the security is and what the neighbors are like. It's only natural, she's a mother and her only daughter is moving twenty hours away from her. You look down at your phone, your GPS says you are pulling up now, you look around the area, it was very nice, wasn't too far from the city. You spot the complex to the left, it was pretty big with multiple sections with apartments, you were building three, kind of in the middle of everything. You pull into the complex parking in front of the leasing office to speak to your landlord and to get your keys, your mom comes with you of course, sizing everything up.

"Hi welcome to Arts District Apartments, it's Amaya correct, my name is George?" An old-looking man stands from his desk, his hand reaching out to shake yours

"Thank you, George, it's Amoya actually" You reach out and shake his hand with a smile.

You two talk a bit about the complex and its rules etc. Your mom chimed in every now and then to ask her questions. Before you know it you're unloading the truck into your new apartment, you're realizing now that you didn't have as much stuff as you thought. The last thing you had left was your bed, you and your mom had been doing well with just the two of you, but after you two had gotten the mattress inside your mother's back began to bother her. Now you had your bed frame, you told your mom to relax for now and that you could get the frame up yourself. Partial lie, you previously took apart the bed frame and so there were mainly long pieces that weren't too heavy except the backboard, that thing was heavy as fuck, luckily you had a dolly at the storage building to help you carry it out, but now you have to carry it to the elevator and down the hall. You managed to get it down from the truck, and from there you lifted it and sped walked to the elevator, almost dropping the bed frame on your foot as you set it down to push the button. The doors had closed on you twice as you tried to pick the frame back up and lift it into the elevator, but alas you made it, now on the third floor and outside the elevator. You took pride in your body, you considered yourself strong, regularly went to the gym, and you would say your legs were the strongest part of your body, with that being said, you tried to make as little noise as possible since it was still early in the morning, you lost your footing. You were almost there, your door being right in front of you; but you fell. Landing on the door behind you hitting your head with a very loud thud.

"Bumbo." You whisper yelled at yourself in Jamaican as you set the frame down and leaned off of the door. (translation: Fuck)

Holding the frame upright you walk around it reaching for your door, the frame slipping from your fingers and falling against your neighbor's door again. You prayed that your new neighbor was either a very deep sleeper or wasn't home right now, though maybe you didn't pray hard enough. You lift the bed frame from your neighbor's door, getting your phone to get your mom to hold the door open for you so you can slide it the rest of the way inside. Stopping, you hear the door behind you click open. Your bed frame blocked your view of whoever had stepped out, but you could hear him.

Ch.1 - Ch.2

Updated Author note: Hopefully this was an enjoyable first chapter or part. The apartment is just a random apartment complex I saw on Zillow, everything in this is all fictional besides the YouTube videos and things that are obviously real. Anyway, I have decided to make this a series, I've gone into too much detail on little things like Amoya's intrusive thoughts and all that, and it'd be a waste to shorten and delete half of what I put and speed through everything, Amoya's intrusive thoughts and anxiety is a trait I added from myself, so you'll notice a lot of internal thinking and scenarios she makes up in her head. Hopefully, the idea is as cool as what I thought of in my head. If this does well, I will upload the other chapters one after the other, If it does bad I'll just delete everything, but please be patient I procrastinate a lot and I want the writing to be good. Please be honest and let me know how you all feel about this, if you like the writing, the main character, the pacing, the storyline, length, anything, and everything, I need criticism but don't be a bitch about it.

[bigbadbatch]

The Light We Feel - Prologue

Hi all,

This is my VERY FIRST FIC EVER. Also, MY FIRST TUMBLR POST EVER. Do I know what I am doing? No. Do I want to give it my all? Absolutely. Did this fic come to me in a dream? Literally.

Slow burn. Romance. NSFW (Eventually). Star Wars Lore. Let's do it.

If you have advice on how to better format or post, let me know! For now, I hope you like it.

This takes place right after The Bad Batch Episode Seven, Season Two. It is standalone, and will be in many parts, maybe one day coinciding with future episodes (maybe.) Here we go.

A new face makes its way to Ord Mantell, and into the fold of the Bad Batch. What ties will bind them together? What might tear them apart?

Hunter x fem!OC

The bright city of Ord Mantell was eerily quiet. Rain, which only fell about twice per year, cascaded down from the clouded sky and pooled in the streets. The citizens hid from the rain in bars and in their homes. That wasn’t ideal for Marko and his companion, who had hoped for isolation in the hand over.  “A bit lost in this city, Cid.” Marko’s comm screeched in his ear as she replied. “Blue light above the door, can’t miss it. Hurry up, I’m swamped with a rush.” The two rain-soaked humans made their way to the door. 

“Some rush.” There were about fifteen people in the small bar, all in various states of drunkenness. “Finally.” Cid breathed. “Step into my office. Hanada, watch the front for me will you? And no free drinks. Consider it working off your tab.”

The three stepped into a dark, cold storeroom that held a holotable and a desk. Marko and his companion took off their hoods. “Thank you for doing this, Cid. We were out of options.” Marko puffed into his hands to warm them as he spoke.

“Forget it, I owed you Marko, now you owe me. Besides, she’ll be working to earn her keep, right kid?” For the first time in a long time, the woman by Marko’s side felt seen. “Yes.” She whispered.  Cid eyed her. “You don’t look like much, especially not someone who would have the set of skills Marko here says you do.”

Marko cut in, “All the better. Let your targets underestimate her. Now please, do we have a deal?” Marko stuck out his hand, and without hesitation, the Trandoshan shook it.

“Deal.”

Marko turned to the girl. “This is goodbye. I’m sorry.” With a sudden, strong hug the girl buried her face into his chest. “Goodbye.” and he was off into the bar, and then into the night. 

Cid looked the woman up and down. She had some height, a bit of weight to her. Cid could see the strength in her bones and in her body. Tightly coiled, yet somehow soft. “You ever run a bar before? Feel like maybe you could knock some heads together if they get rowdy?” 

The girl nodded. Cid sighed. “Well.” she said. “Let’s get you set up. What’s your name anyway? Marko wouldn’t tell me over comms.” The girl lowered her eyes for a moment, as if deciding to tell the truth or her first of many lies. Then, her blue eyes met Cid’s with a look of determination. 

“Thea.” she said. 

“My name is Thea.”

Chapter 1

[vivalarevolution]

𝓜𝔂 𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻'𝓼 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻

Aegon Targaryen x Sister Targaryen Oc  

Summary: Rhaenerys loved her siblings, especially her brother, whom she was willing to steal from under green's nose to keep him safe.

A/N: It’s not my best work but I hope you all gonna like it nonetheless.

English is not my native language. Sorry for any mistakes.

Part 2

Rhaenerys was Rhaenyra's younger sister. Born a year later, she was nothing that her father had imagined. Until now, she remembered his words.

-The maester said it was a son, he had to be. How he kicked, how energetic and strong he was- Viserys had repeated through most of her childhood years.

The woman tried to ignore how much his words affected her, but eventually she began to live with them, transforming them into her strength. She was stubborn, temperamental, and clever, winning her place among the royal court , but her heart remained the same. Kind and loving to those who she loved.

Her older sister and she were inseparable. They were a rock and peace for each other. When their mother died, when their dear friend married their father, or when the world forgot about them the moment their younger siblings were conceived into the world. They clung to each other as if they were eachother last bit of hope.

Only then did Viserys begin to notice his second daughter. He began to notice her dedication, her kind soul and hardened spirit. He tried to be supportive as Rhaenerys stared blankly at the wall after hearing the news that she would never be able to have children of her own, tried to treat her as equal to the older Targeryen, unconsciously loving her more than ever before.

The princess did not show it, for her subjects she was a tough and self-confident woman, but inside she felt defeated, lonely.

Many men followed her with their eyes, not hiding their lust, but she stubbornly pushed them away, knowing that she would not give them what the lords wanted most - an extension of their legacy.

However, there were also those whom she let into her bed. Ser Criston or Harwin Strong were the ones her heart cried out to, but the white-haired woman ignored her feelings each time, eventually pushing them away to watch her sister take them into her chambers.

Over the years, she had finally accepted punishment from the gods.

She had no choice but to start living with it, because the curse had no intention of disappearing from her life anyway, so Rhaenerys turned her bitterness into love for her family, which grew drastically quickly, bringing with it equally drastic changes.

Her younger siblings spoke to her very often, and despite Rhaenyra's silent objections, she had nothing to say, watching the love she once received passes to her younger siblings.

Ageon probably loved her the most. She was the first person that did not instill in him the obligation to reign, or didn't beat him when he did something inappropriate. As it used to be for her older sister, the violet-eyed princess became a peaceful haven for the boy.

He often dreamed of her as his mother or lover. She was all he needed, making him a better and more decent man.

But when she disappeared for six years, hiding in Dragonstone with the king's eldest daughter, her uncle and their children, the white-haired man began to return to what his mother's upbringing had created, to the drunkard who slept with another woman every night.

When she found out about it, she wasn’t furious but disappointed and she didn’t even knew in who more, herself or the fair-haired prince.

Sitting on the great bed, in the royal chambers, the silver-haired girl tried not to cry. Seeing her dying father was hard for her. Rhaenerys was convinced that Viserys had become a living corpse, and his great suffering was evident in his uncover eye.

Holding him by the hand, he told him about what was happening on Dragonstone, staying longer in his presence than Daemon and Rhaenyra, who left her alone with her parent for a moment.

She felt as if everything was starting to fall apart, and the sight of her brother only confirmed it.

Entering his room, she found a real mess. The smell of alcohol wafted through the air, and the prince himself lay on the creased sheets, snoring. The white-haired woman approached him, looking at his body from above, unconsciously combing his silver strands, as she used to do when he was still a child.

Aegon muttered under his breath as he tucked his face into the pillow, fearing that Alicent had decided to pay him a visit again.

-Aegon - the woman said, her velvety voice immediately recognized by the young man.

Frowning in consternation, he opened his eyes to see the Trageryen in front of him who had haunted his dreams too many times.

-Rhaenerys?- he asked in a hoarse voice, trying to force himself to awake.

-I came back - she informed him, walking away from the prince's bed, when he decided to get up.

Violet-eyed man grinned, hugging her tightly. Snuggling against her body, he hid his head in the crease of her neck, inhaling the familiar and soothing scent that surrounded the princess.

-I missed you - he confessed, overjoyed at the presence of his beloved sister, but she did not answer -What's the matter?- he asked confused, looking at her purple irises- Why are you looking at me like that? Rhaenerys please don't look at me like that- he whispered, seeing the same emotions that the queen often looked at him with.

-What happened to you?- she asked, touching his cheek, which was slightly flushed.

-You weren't here. You left me, and my mother still demands more of me. I can't handle it, you left me alone -he complained.

-Will you drink yourself to death with a prostitute by your side every time I leave you alone? - asked the daughter of the king - Aegon, I will not be with you all my life - the white-haired girl replied, catching his face in her hands to look him straight in the eyes.

-I'm sorry -he said, and the first tears began to run down his face.- I'll stop, just don't leave me, please- he croaked, falling into her arms.

Rhaenerys wrapped her arms around him tightly, kissing his temple, she stroked his head with her free hand, motherly rocking him from side to side to soothe his brother, if only slightly. 

-Now, now - she whispered soothingly -There are things that need to be taken care of, Aegon, then I'm all yours - she added, and her younger brother squeezed her body tighter in an act of silent objection, but the silver-haired woman knew that no matter how much he would not like it ,the young man will agree to anything, as long as she will be around him.

Staring at the wall opposite them, she struggled with her thoughts. She felt as if she were faced with a choice between her sister and her brother, whom she loved too much to gain one at the expense of the other.

And oh, how quickly and unexpectedly she was told to make that choice.

As she ran through Kings Landing, the woman was desperately searching for the white-haired man.

The king is dead. This words still echoed in her head like bells, pounding in her ears.

She stayed in the capital because of her younger siblings, only to become a prisoner of the castle the next day.

She and Rhaenys were furious and deaf at Alicent's offer to convince them to join her and her son. And when an opportunity arose in the form of a gap created by a white worm, they both fled out of the Red Keep, hidden behind wide hoods , hiding in the large group of people.

-Wait- said the princess.

-We don't have time for this Rhaenerys - the old woman said.

-I know about it -purple-eyed replied immediately- But Aegon is not in the castle, I have to find him.

-What for? He is to become a king, and this will create a conflict that can not be avoided anymore - said the white-haired woman- This may be the cause of your death, do not be stupid.

-Free the dragons, free Aegarax and Sunfyre - she ordered firmly, ignoring her words. -Trust me -Rhaenyra's sister said, grabbing her hands.

The late king's cousin merely nodded before moving forward, straight to Dragonpit, when she walked in the opposite direction, begging the gods to be on her side. Capturing Ageon was the best and most risky solution. The prince was the last pawn needed to start a civil war, and Rhaenerys intended to take him away and hide him away from the queen.

Holding the paper in her hand, she looked at it uncertainly.

According to the written message, her brother hid in a temple in the city center, so she, having nothing to lose, trusted a stranger who, to her surprise, left many clues for her.

When she was not far away, one of the prostitutes showed her the direction and the side entrance, as if knowing what the woman had came for.

The white-haired princess entered the stone building. Taking off her cloak, she began her search in a seemingly deserted temple.

-Ageon - said the princess - It's me Rhaenerys. We have to get out of here as soon as possible, we don't have much time.

As if on command, the violet-eyed man left the stone altar, looking uncertainly at his sister, who, seeing him, ran up to him quickly.

-White worm said he would take me to the ship- he informed her -I will disappear from here and Rhaenyra will become queen.

The woman frowned in concern. There was nothing in her letter about the boat or the disappearance. Suddenly, a soft growl fell from her lips, and her eyes darkened with anger.

The white worm probably made the game, and the prince was the grand prize. The one who gave more won him and the rest of the seekers.

-I don't trust him - Rhaenerys said -Aegon, you will come with me. We will fly to Dragonstone. Do you understand? -she asked, taking his hand.

-But our sister, she will kill me- he said- Let's just run away together somewhere, far away- added the fair-haired man.

-Nothing will happen to you - assured the young woman - She never wanted to kill you, your mother inculcated it into your head, if your coronation happens, the war breaks out Aegon and many heads will fall from many necks.

The young man, still scared, nodded understanding as he let his siblings lead him forward. The princess thought she had time, but the sight of unfamiliar men heading towards the temple had led her out of her misconception .

The siblings hid behind one of the massive pillars. The woman pulled a dagger from under her coat, grasping it firmly in her hand, while the other held her brother's hand.

Stepping slowly, she guided her and the prince's movements next to her. The two twins looked around for Aegon, and when they had gone far enough, they took the opportunity by sneaking to the door.

-Quick - Targaryen whispered, looking from side to side.

-Princess- a male voice called her. Rhaenerys stopped. Hiding the violet-eyed man behind her, she was looking confidently at Ser Criston's dark irises, accompanied by Aemond -Prince, your mother looking for you -he added, shifting his gaze to the man behind her.

-He's not going anywhere - she threatened, gripping the blade tighter.

Suddenly, the twins came out from behind their backs.

The white-haired girl looked away from one place to another. After a moment she closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

Dragons can tell when their bonded riders need them.

Suddenly a loud roar spread around, and a shadow covered the square on which they were located.

Dragons are not foolish creatures.

Aegarax descended from the stone structure, landing next to Rhaenerys and Aegon, carefully watching the people in front of him with his eyes.

They can tell the difference between friend and foe.

Opening his mouth, he let out a loud scream again, and then a fire appeared in the back of his throat. The white-haired woman took the opportunity to drag the would-be king to her reptile, quickly climbing his back together with the young man.

-Sōvēs! (Fly) - the blonde said loudly, and the animal rose heavily, destroying parts of some buildings around them.

The black beast soared above the ground as it flew through the city.

The rider looked back, the King's Landing receded farther and farther away, to become only a blur. As two more roars spread through the air, she breathed a sigh of relief. Rhaenys wth her dragon and Sunfyre flew near them.

The women looked at each other and nodded their heads in silent understanding. The white-haired girl closed her eyes, feeling the adrenaline leaving her body.

Aegon grabbed her hand, squeezing it as tightly as they had been a few moments ago when they were on the ground, then he kissed her cheek, hiding his face in her neck.

-Thank you- he whispered, but she heard him anyway.

Rhaenerys joined their hands together in response, nestling against his torso. They were safe...for now.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 17 - News Flash

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper and the Beaumonts get on a plane to Italy… but they are not riding solo

Word Count: 4,500

Rating/Warnings: M (using the Lord's name in vain, shocking revelations, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: And… we’re back! I know this is a bit delayed, thanks to my new Heaven’s Secret distraction, but I am hoping to refocus myself on this continuously neglected series again for the next few weeks/months so we can make some headway towards wrapping it up. Also, I know we all miss him, and he hasn’t had as much page time as we all (Harper included!) probably want, but I promise that after this chapter there will be a lot more Drake again 🥃

A/N2: Astute readers will probably notice that there is nary a train in sight (in this chapter, or any future ones). This is deliberate because (i) I never understood why PB went in that direction in canon (is a travelling boutique really that important?!), and (ii) trains don’t make sense from a security point of view anyway (apparently the UK’s Royalty and Specialist Protection — which provides close protection to the royal family — used to hate it when Elizabeth II travelled by train, because it was always a massive headache to ensure her safety as trains travel on a fixed route and schedule, with no opportunities for diversion or evasion of things go to pot). So… planes it is ✈️

A/N3: Finally, another special shoutout to @thegreentwin​ for giving me the inspiration to have a crack at creating the tabloid cover page featured in this chapter. If you have not read The Rebel Prince, please do so! It is cute, funny, insightful and the gossip magazine covers that accompany several of the chapters are something else!

Chapter 17 - News Flash

"I thought we're going to Italy..." I remark the next morning as we pull to a stop on the tarmac of a secluded private airfield.

"We are," confirms Bertrand, jamming a fedora onto his head to protect against the ferocity of the morning sun... and hide the brutal sunburn he managed to acquire as a result of spending the entirety of yesterday's Festival outdoors without any SPF protection.

"Then what's with the literal mountain of luggage?" I ask as we step out of our customary limo.

Bertrand fixes me with a red-faced glare over the roof of the vehicle. "Have you learnt nothing from the social season?"

I throw him a deadpan look. "You mean apart from the fact that you insist on packing everything, including the kitchen sink?"

Maxwell's snort drifts up from the backseat.

The elder Beaumont is not impressed with my clapback. "The engagement tour will be one high-profile event after the other, which means that we will have neither the time nor the opportunity to engage in slap-dash shopping sprees. Not only would such proletarian behaviour be rude, but it would be misguided as well, given that we need to ensure that for each event we abide not just by the formal dress code indicated on the invitation, but also that we do not clash with, or indeed overshadow the hosts — or the King and future Queen, for that matter! — in terms of style and colour, all while being thoughtful in ensuring that we incorporate elements from both local and Cordonian designers to visually showcase the strength of the bonds that knit our respective nations together. On top of all that, it is imperative that we—"

"How the heck is anyone expected to pull all that off?" I blurt in disbelief.

"Through careful planning and coordination," Bertrand declares as he comes to join Maxwell and me on the other side of the limo. "Which is why I have taken the liberty of pre-selecting each outfit for each event of the tour, in consultation with the Palace's Master of the Robes."

My mouth drops. "You... Put a wardrobe together? For me?"

"Yes," comes the diffident affirmation. "Given that all eyes — not just those of our fellow Cordonians, but of our host nations' — will be on us constantly, we cannot afford any fashion faux pas."

I stare at my former sponsor mutely, mouth opening and closing like a dumbfounded goldfish.

Maxwell attempts to diffuse my slap-faced reaction with a jovial grin. "Bertrand used to lay my clothes out for me all the time when we were younger. I know he doesn't look it, but he has excellent—"

I shove an accusatory finger out. "He tried to foist me into a Medieval cosplay dress! That is the exact opposite of excellent taste!"

The elder Beaumont bristles. "It was hardly—"

"And how the hell did you afford all of this anyway?" I interject, throwing my arm out towards the carefully stacked Eiffel Tower of suitcases. "Because last time I checked, you were flat broke!"

Bertrand's already ruddy complexion darkens further. "There is no need for you to concern yourself with—"

"How?!"

After the way Maxwell had tried to sell covert photos and Christian and me from New York to the press in a bid to make bank, I am not willing to take any kind of half-baked deflection when it comes to the Beaumonts and money. I've been used one too many times for someone else's gain, so my trust is virtually non-existent at this point.

Bertrand swallows thickly as he averts his eyes. "I... I may have made recourse to an old sewing machine I found in the attic..."

My eyes just about pop out of my head. "You what?!"

I'd expected any one of six million other explanations — he'd sold the vineyard... remortgaged Ramsford... auctioned off every last chair and curtain from the manor... Even offered his soul to the literal Devil...

But using a sewing machine...? To make actual clothes...?

I had obviously caught the sun yesterday as well, and am now suffering from heat stroke...

"Bertrand has always been interested in fashion," explains Maxwell with a perfectly straight face. "He even wanted to enroll at the world-renowned Istituto Marangoni International in Milan to study Fashion Design. But then our father took unexpectedly ill, and—"

"Yes, yes..." interjects Bertrand with an embarrassed wave of his hand. "No need to revisit broken dreams and unfulfilled promises. The point is that I made the best use of what meagre funds and resources we had at our disposal to curate a serviceable selection of outfits for each of us. With a little help from Maxwell, of course."

"I was the mannequin," he declares proudly. "I admit, I got poked a few times in the line of duty, but it was worth it. Bertrand did a stellar job – you're going to love what he made for you."

"I... I don't know what to say..." I admit faintly.

And here I'd been thinking that Bertrand's closet Harry Potter obsession had been a big reveal...

"Yes... Well..." Bertrand clears his throat uncomfortably. "We each have our unique talents. Speaking of... I trust you have been practicing your Italian?"

I frown. "My what?"

"You were supposed to give her lessons!" cries Bertrand, smacking his brother over the back of the head.

Maxwell's retro '60s sunglasses fly off his face. "My Prada’s...!"

"What about French?" Bertrand demands, rounding on me with all the intensity of a furious tomato on the verge of exploding.

"Allard and Schweitzer have been teaching—"

"Some initiative at last!" exclaims Bertrand, throwing his hands up in the air in deliverance. "Good — you'll have some semblance of a basis, then. However, while both languages share a common root — that being Latin — and a border, as a result of roughly fifteen centuries of historical and linguistic divergence, Italian has become markedly different from its Gallic cousin, so we will have our work cut out in making you even semi-proficient by the time we land in Rome. So, I hope you brought pen and paper with you."

My shoulders slump as I watch Bertrand stride off towards the waiting plane. "Great..."

There goes the next hour and a half of my life...

"I knew I had forgotten something..." admits Maxwell, rubbing the back of his head as he retrieves his sunglasses from the tarmac. "But I thought it was just my second favourite pair of boxers."

"It's fine..." I assure wearily him as I begin my own trudge towards the jet. "It wouldn't be a true Beaumont travel experience without a droning Bertrand lecture..."

Though I guess it could be worse. I could be stuck on the royal jet with Christian and Madeleine. Which — after what happened yesterday — would be like staging an aristocratic rendition of Squid Game... 20,000 feet in the air. So, on that basis, I'll willingly subject myself to Bertrand's monologuing any day of the week, if it means I can—

"And there she is..." remarks a familiar, though very much unexpected voice as I step onto the plane. "The woman of the hour."

Jerking my head to the right, my eyes land on Olivia, lounging on one of the cream-coloured leather seats, her killer spike stiletto boots dangling over the armrest as she casually peruses a broadsheet.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in disbelief.

Olivia lowers the paper to meet my eye with a quirked brow. "You mean, on my own aircraft?"

I cast a glance in Bertrand's direction as I make my way down the gangway. "Guess your meagre funds and resources didn't extend to sourcing jet fuel?"

Bertrand coughs evasively as he stores his briefcase in the overhead locker. "Since we are all heading in the same direction anyway, Lady Oliva was kind enough to—"

"Shut it, Beaumont," Olivia snaps. "I am doing this as a personal favour, not an act of charity. As Lord knows that I wouldn't normally tolerate sharing recycled air with this many people in a confined space. So, if you want to stay on this plane, you will save the histrionics for the Italian President."

Bertrand promptly clamps his mouth shut to sink into his seat without another word.

"Wow..." I say, settling in across from Olivia. "He must've been really desperate to come to you for help... No offence."

"None taken," she replies with a breezy shrug as she flips the broadsheet closed and nods to the cabin attendant. "Because the request didn't come from the Beaumonts."

My head snaps up in surprise. "Then who?"

She regards me for a long moment, as if debating whether to tell me. Finally, she lets out a resigned exhale. "Drake."

My jaw hits the floor. "What!"

Olivia scrunches her mouth up ruefully. "He twisted my arm into agreeing to look out for you while he's off playing desert soldier."

I stare at her. "How in the world did he—?"

Maxwell thrusts his head 'round the back of Olivia's seat. "Drake's playing video games! Instead of coming to Italy?”

The Duchess of Lythikos shoves the intruding face away with the palm of her hand. "No, you imbecile! Drake's gone to Dubai." Glancing at me she adds, "I presume they know?"

"They do now," I concede with a sigh.

Thanks to the slew of quick-fire developments at yesterday's Festival, followed by the rabid packing to get ourselves ready for the international leg of the tour, I haven't had a chance to bring the Beaumonts up to speed with everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours.

But they're bound to find out about Drake's last-minute side-trip at some point, so this is as good a time as any to level with them.

Maxwell’s mouth drops with an aghast look. "But I didn't hit him that hard!"

Olivia quirks a brow at me.

"Long story, don't ask," I tell her wearily. Glancing up at Maxwell, I add, "He's gone after Tariq. Bastien found him hiding out on some rich cousin's yacht out in the bay."

"Oh." Maxwell scratches his head abashedly. "That makes more sense..."

"How do you put up with these two?" asks Olivia with a shake of her head as Maxwell sinks back into his seat.

I give her a shrug. "They have a weird way of growing on you..."

"Like some deadly fungus..." she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

"I heard that!" objects Maxwell from behind her.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eavesdrop, then!" she throws over her shoulder snidely. Turning back to me, she adds, "And speaking of funguses, you can remind your boyfriend when he gets back that you both owe me. Big time."

My gaze darts to hers. "I— We're not—"

"Thank you for confirming it," she interjects with a sly smile. "But also, I'm not an idiot. It's obvious to anyone with a set of eyes that the fool is in love with you... and you with him. It's all quite disgusting, really..."

I feel my cheeks redden. "So, why help us, then?"

She heaves a low breath. "Because you stuck your neck out for me when you didn't have to. Despite everything I did to try and undermine you during the season. And because we have a common enemy."

She tosses the broadsheet that she'd been reading over to me.

Catching the copy of the Cordonia Sun before it has a chance to slide off the table between us, I glance down...

...and my heart sinks as I take in the unflattering picture of myself seemingly facing off against Madeleine under the sensationalist headline.

I shove the paper angrily away. "Hey. I didn't start it..."

"And yet you somehow always manage to find yourself in the middle of it, don't you?" she counters with an arched brow as the jet revs its engines for take-off. "The half-nude pictures... The Beaumonts' financial troubles... The speculations about the real reason Christian gave you a duchy... I mean, even the Duchess of Sussex would have a hard time competing with you when it comes to front-page scandals."

"And you think Madeleine is behind it all?" I ask tightly, indicating the tabloid.

"She would certainly have a lot to gain from waging a targeted media campaign against you," Olivia affirms. "She isn't married to Christian yet, and after what happened with Leo, she no doubt feels threatened by your continued presence at court. So, discrediting your integrity in the eyes of the Council would help her ensure that Christian can never formally pick you over her to become Queen."

"Because she doesn't know I turned him down..." I grumble dejectedly as the plane pulls into the air.

"And certainly would not believe you if you told her, either," she adds. "But she is not the only one with something to lose."

I sit up straighter. "You mean there are other suspects?"

"Yes," she nods. "Namely Godfrey and the Queen Mother."

Bertrand erupts from his seat at the mention of the two names. "That is an outrageous accusation! The Queen Mother would never—!"

"Madeleine is her niece," counters Olivia flatly. "Given that she has no children of her own, she practically treats that golden-haired harpy as if she is her heir. And since she was the one who brokered the original marriage contract between Leo and Madeleine, she clearly doesn't want all that work going to waste."

I frown. "But if everything was in place already, why have a social season at all? Why not just sub out Leo's name for Christian's in the contract?"

"To give Christian the illusion of choice."

My jaw drops. "You're not serious..."

"It would have been in poor taste to simply swap one prince out for another," Olivia advises. "Leo hadn't died... merely abdicated. But that decision nevertheless rocked the kingdom to its core."

"It's true," supplies Maxwell, leaning around with a mouth full of jelly worms. "The headlines were vicious."

"So..." I muse with a frown. "The Palace needed a distraction?"

"Yes," Oliva affirms seriously. "To draw attention away from Constantine's failing health."

"Wait," I cut in. "Constantine is dying?"

Olivia nods. "Prostate cancer. By all estimates, he has less than a year to live."

"Oh, my God..." I gasp, hand flying to my mouth. "No wonder Christian didn't want to talk about it..."

"The Palace is under strict instructions to keep the whole thing tightly under wraps..." she explains. "At least until after the coronation and wedding are both out of the way. They don't want the news to overshadow the first few critical months of Christian's rule."

"So, how did you find out?" I query.

She cuts her eyes over at me. "Like I said at the Masquerade Ball... Christian and I share a special connection. There are no secrets between us. Also – look at who you're talking to. I have files on each of the suitors from the social season. You seriously think I wouldn't know about something as vital to the functioning of the kingdom as the state of the King Father's health?"

"I guess not..." I concede, still trying to process this bombshell. "But how does giving Christian an illusion of a choice during the social season help cover up Constantine's cancer?"

"In the wake of Leo's abdication, support for the Rys family fell to an all-time low. The press started to question Constantine's policies, and the direction that the kingdom has been heading over the past few decades, implying that the country's current trajectory was unsustainable... and uncorrectable."

"I remember reading something about that on the flight from New York..." I recall. "There were suggestions that Leo abdicated because he didn't believe in the future of the monarchy."

"Which wasn't the case at all," she cautions. "But the Palace was worried that such intense media scrutiny would unearth evidence of Constantine's ill health... which would in turn intensify the calls from the republican factions of the country to abolish the system of hereditary rule completely. So, in a desperate bid to reunite the people behind a common cause, and shore up support for the monarchy, the Palace decided run the season again."

"But why?" I ask, still not seeing the connection.

"To charm the country with the fairytale of a royal romance," denotes Olivia sourly. "Because people apparently go ga-ga for that shite..."

Bertrand narrowly avoids choking in his seat across the aisle. "That is a crude and absolutely salacious interpretation of—!"

I whirl across the aisle. "Wait. You knew about this?"

Bertrand folds his arms across his chest. "I am a serving member of the Council. Of course I knew about the Palace's decision to run the social season again. But to suggest that it was all done simply for the sake of—"

"God, you're thick..." interjects Olivia.

Bertrand blanches. "I beg your pardon?!"

"You've been at court long enough to know that the truth is never the whole truth — there is always some hidden purpose or ulterior motive."

"But to suggest that—"

"The Palace needed a believable story — one that could capture the public's imagination — while still serving the needs of the kingdom," Olivia states. "A story of duty and love."

"Between Christian and Madeleine?" I ask sceptically. "But they don't even like each other."

"So?" scoffs Olivia. "The aim was to sell the lie to the populace. Everything else is inconsequential. And can be made to fit the narrative."

"But if you knew all this," I counter, "why did you join the competition?"

"I joined exactly because I knew the season was a sham," she replies heatedly. "To give Christian a genuine choice... not just the one that everyone else was determined to steer him towards."

"Because you love him..."

Olivia nods tightly. "Yes. And I knew it was a long shot. But even if he wouldn't end up being able to choose me — Regina would've made sure to stack the Council votes in her favour — at least I could be there to support him... as a friend."

I feel my heart go out to her, knowing from personal experience how difficult it is to be in a situation where you desperately want to be with someone, but can't because of circumstances that are outside of your control.

"But then, of course..." adds Olivia, once again with her customary breeziness, "you show up from out of nowhere with your hideous accent and relatable backstory—"

"Hey!"

"—and the whole country — Christian included — loses their collective minds. With the result that Regina's plan to make her niece Queen begins to unravel at the seams."

"Which is why she decided to set me up..." I surmise heavily as the jet levels off.

It's been fairly obvious from the start that I'm not Regina's favourite person... But the knowledge that she'd go to such lengths to publicly blacklist me? That's just inexcusable.

"You have no proof of that!" objects Bertrand, butting in again.

"Not directly, no," Olivia admits. "But all the evidence we have to date fits. The money Tariq received for his involvement came from a numbered account located in Switzerland. The blackmail letters distributed at the Coronation Ball were printed on Palace stationery. And as far as motives go, the Queen Mother would have more reason than most to influence the outcome of the social season."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this...!" decries Bertrand with a shake of his head. "The implications alone would be—"

"Ruinous to the Rys family," confirms Olivia. "I am aware. Which is why we must tread carefully in order to avoid tarring Christian with any of this. The monarchy would not survive the ensuing scandal."

"What about this other guy?" I ask. "Godfrey? How does he fit into this?"

Olivia throws her hands up. "Lord, you're more clueless than him!"

"Excuse me for not knowing every single Cordonian nobleman by name," I snark back. "I've only been a duchess for a day..."

"I'll send you my files," Olivia huffs wearily. "All two hundred of them."

My eyes widen. "There's two hundred—?"

"There's more, but those are the important ones," she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And if you want to be an effective duchess, I suggest you study up because you need to have the entire contents of those dossiers memorised and ready to deploy in any given conversation."

"Sweet Jesus..." I gasp faintly, making recourse to Drake's favourite invective, as it certainly fit the magnitude of the task Olivia has just dumped on me.

"You didn't grow up in this world, so you have a lot of catching up to do," Olivia shrugs unabashedly.

"Yeah, I'm very much aware of that..." I concede dryly, rubbing my temples. "So, who is this Godfrey?"

"The Third Earl of Huntford, and Duke jure uxoris of Krona."

My brows furrow in recollection. "Krona... Does that mean he's—?"

"He's Madeleine's dad," supplies Maxwell, popping his head into the aisle again, this time in the company of a CapriSun juice pouch.

My eyes widen. "The man at the garden party! But what does he have against me? I've never even met him!"

"The fact that you are still here..." offers Olivia blandly. "Competing against his daughter for the attentions of the King."

"It's not exactly a competition," I scoff. "I'm not trying to steal him away from her."

"Except that isn't how the press is portraying it," counters Olivia pointedly, tapping the front page of the Sun.

I open my mouth again, but quickly shut it, realising that Olivia is right. As regardless of my personal reasons for being back at court — as the Royal Consort, no less! — the view from the outside presents very differently. And given that Madeleine herself clearly feels threatened by my continued presence at Christian's side, it's no small jump to imagine that her father — who, based on what I saw at the garden party a few days ago, is just as power-hungry and image-conscious as his daughter — would also feel the same.

"Crap..." I huff, falling back into my seat dejectedly.

"Not the most elegant of phrasing," muses Olivia. "But certainly succinct."

"What am I going to do?" I ask morosely, starting up at the cabin's air vents.

"Help me gather as much proof as we can during the course of the tour," Olivia instructs. "So we can narrow down our suspect list... or indict all three of them. In either case, we will be more effective if we work together."

"That plan is akin to sedition!" cries Bertrand, clearly aghast by the very suggestion. "Bordering on treason! All of us are in enough hot water already without—"

"Which is why it is imperative that no word of anything that we have just discussed leaves this aircraft," declares Olivia with a steely look. "Or I will personally hunt you down and turn your face inside out."

I gulp at the gruesomeness of that particular image. "What... What about the staff? Can you trust them?"

"They are all Lythikosians," Olivia states. "Who have sworn blood-oaths to House Nevrakis. They would never dare betray me."

"Good to know..." I admit, watching the cabin attendant re-appeared with a selection of drinks, and wondering if underneath her uniform she is as armed to the teeth as Olivia supposedly is.

"I presume the same goes for your beefcakes?" asks Olivia, nodding her chin towards the back where Allard and Schweitzer have taken up residence for the duration of the flight.

"Yes," I confirm. "I trust them with my life."

She dips her head in approval. "Good. So, as first order of business, I suggest—"

"Can we tell Hana?" interjects Maxwell, bobbing up from behind Olivia again. "She's helping us, too!"

Olivia heaves a breath. "Yes, fine. But—"

I hold up a hand. "And Drake will probably want t—"

"Yes, fine!" she snaps irately. "Anyone else? Your maternal grandmother, perhaps?"

I bite my bottom lip as I peek up at her. "Do we tell Christian?"

Olivia holds my gaze for a long moment. "No. Not until we have concrete proof. One way or another. He has enough crises to manage right now without lumbering him with a major constitutional one as well."

I nod in understanding. The mere suggestion that his godmother and future father-in-law have been conspiring to put Madeleine on the throne (potentially with his fiancée's own buy-in!) would be soul-destroying. Which is why we need to find that smoking gun — ideally several — before we present our accusations.

"Not sure if it will be of any help at all," I say, "but Ana de Luca managed dig up some information on the freelance photographer Tariq was working with on the day of the Jamboree."

"Did you bribe her with another exclusive?" chaffs Olivia dryly.

"We'll need someone to help us set the record straight," I affirm. My shoulders slump suddenly. "But I gave the flash-drive to Drake."

"Which he gave to me," smirks Olivia, pulling the device from the pocket of her jacket.

I gape at the piece of plastic in her hand. "Drake really trusts you, huh?"

"More than most," she shrugs coyly, flipping the drive over to me.

I catch it with both hands. "We should review whatever is on here. Who knows? Maybe the photographer is part of the press corps covering the tour."

"I have my laptop with me," Maxwell offers. "I was going to use it to mix some tunes, but—"

"You'll only get one chance to unravel a high-stakes aristo racket!" I quip, dangling the drive between my fingers.

"God, your incessant American optimism is stomach-turning..." Olivia groans. "And you've clearly spent too much time with Walker."

"Hey," I hit back. "This is the best lead we've gotten yet. We shouldn't discount it. This photographer could be key to linking Regina and/or Godfrey to the plot to influence the outcome of the social season."

"Assuming you can find them..." counters Olivia. "And get them to talk."

I meet her eye with a level look. "Good thing that's your area of expertise, isn't it, Duchess?"

The corner of her mouth lifts craftily.

"But what about Harper's Italian!" disparages Bertrand. "We'll be landing in less than an hour, and she still doesn't know the proper way to greet the President in his native tongue without insulting him!"

I swallow a groan. "Do I really need t—?"

"Being able to carry a conversation with the Head of State in Italian will go a long way in demonstrating to both the public and the press that you are serious about your new role as Duchess of Valtoria," he advises frankly. "And will score you some much-needed diplomatic points with our hosts as well."

"Guess we have our work cut out for us, then," I accede with a sigh. "Any chance for some coffee?"

"Turkish, Irish, or Sicilian?" asks Olivia.

"Which is closest to a latte?"

"Probably the Sicilian," she advises. "If you make it into a granita di caffe."

"I'm feeling Italian already!" I gibe in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

Bertrand groans loudly from his seat. "Oh, Dio..."

The story continues in Chapter 18 - Diplomatica

Permatags

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @kingliam2019 @petiteboheme @angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @nestledonthaveone @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @twinkle-320 @knaussal @nikkis1983 @lunaseasblog @ficloverevie @indiana-jr @differenttyphoonwerewolf @kristinamae093 @eversoaringqueen12 @peonierose @3pawandme @alexabeta @veebug8 @fanfiction-she-wrote @queenmiarys @lancelotsimp @coco-lina-s @lolablackwrites @ivyflowers13 @persephone13 @hollygirl1269 @adri-ja-96 @harleybeaumont @katedrakeohd @uneravine @alj4890 @mywildheartremains

(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[ya-boi-ferals]

Was able to create these redesigns while we had nothin to do in classes. Im tryin to slowly make myself fall in love with art again and my hyperfixation on mlp redesigns are helpin me do that >:'] ...and oh boi this is gon be a long post feel free to read my rewrites ehe

I had so much fun through the whole process for this one! (Tbh the mane 5 becomin more like semi ocs now) For my version, Pipp is more of an actress/performer who does multiple side gigs and hobbies. Shes basically the city's "angelic sweet girl" since shes known for playing a soft and whimsical persona, often doing her iconic closed in ears and faded voice to give a more innocent look for the public. Her attitude is no different in private but she forces herself to stay too positive even when shes in need of relieving some strong emotions. Im not a fan of Pipp being a stereotypical phone addict in the show so I instead headcannoned her as neurodivergent and needing a distraction everytime or else she gets all panicky when shes doesnt have anything to do, she tends to overshare info, forgets to rest, known to take other's spotlight away and dissociate a lot (especially when reading fan comments) Shes disabled and uses formed cloud wings designed by her sister.

As for her redesign, I made her mane to be more stylish as a way to show her expertise on hairstylin. Her tail and tiara is rose shaped to go with her last name "Petals". And her colour pallete is brownish purple and powdered pink to give her character a more softer feel.

Lmaoo I have a lot to say- Anyways heres an old piece i made for zipp Im still confused how to draw her hair patterns...

In my ver. Zipp is well known for bein hardworkin and intelligent. Shes not ready to be queen and often "slacks off" with her main royal duties but she organizes and fixes problems happening outside the castle by talking to the staffs. Shes extremely curious and learns a lot of random detailed infos since she was young which ended up makin her become great at managing situations happening in and out the city, which is why her mother is so persistent on makin her the next queen. Zipp is a solutionist and researcher but she only focuses on what catches her interest before goin on the to next. (Ngl all the mane 5 are neurodivergent to me) Because of how determined she is on those interest, shes made several secret places to avoid just doin main work. Her fav studies are chemistry, physics, cosmology, ecology and aeronautics. Shes mysterious to the public eye but her friends know that shes just a bundle of hyperactive mess once she starts discovering smth new. I assume og Zipp is secretly non-binary coded but for my version, shes a transmare and everypony already knows and accepts it.

I gave her a more light pink and blue green mane colour. Her bangs are like sherlock holmes' as to pay homage for zipp bein a detective in the series along with some side braids. I also gave her twilight freckles and tired,soft looking eyes (not only cuz shes a workaholic like Pipp but its also cuz of genetics)

Aight, I was never really a fan for givin the mane cast just one element and the fact that G5 series havent showed any mentions of it just made it seem unimportant. Soo I instead gave them multiple elements that the mane 5 will develop as their journey goes on. Pipp will be the element of Strength, Purity, Assurance, Control, Pride, Value, etc. While Zipp is the element of Curiosity, Determination, Potential, Wonderment, Eagerness, Persistence, etc. (I imagine if twilight would have ever come back from the dead she would most likely write down what their elements would be as she observes the mane 5)

[gwyns]

Lets pretend that bonus scene wasn’t even a thought in SJM’s mind, to me the connection between Gwyn and Az was still THAT much more evident than anything between him and Elain? I can honestly say that for me, myself and I, I’ve seen more of a connection between them than I did in the very early stages of every other mater in the series? There is something so refreshing to Gwyn and Az that I didn’t feel with the other couples and that very thing is mutual respect. They don’t loathe each other, they don’t fear each other, they are just two people who have respect for one another, which as they should tbh

oh yeah i agree. she gave us enough gwynriel in acosf itself to make us take note of them both as characters and as a pairing

alright so here's my timeline for acosf: back in 2021, before its release, i was so excited for the first new book in 3 years right. well it got leaked a little early and people were talking about a priestess and i was disappointed because, at the time, i had only ever shipped az with two characters. one was an autumn court oc that was related to the vanserras and the other was vassa, thanks to a friend of mine. also yes my oc was a redhead and in some fanfic i wrote at the time i had vassa call az simply by "shadowsinger" so yeah, i kinda manifested gwyn

anyway moving on... like in my head i knew vassa and az were a ship likely to never happen but still, i liked them. why am i mentioning all of this? because i went into acosf not wanting to like gwyn out of pettiness. now look at me!! number one gwyn fan and gwynriel!!! that's not a coincidence or just because i hate e/riel or anything, it's because sjm took the time to, not only develop gwyn as a character, but connect her to az and have them interact in a way that left me and many others wanting more

she has published 16 books over the past 12 years. she knows how to write romance, that and emotional journeys are her strengths and what she as an author excels at, so all these "theories" e/riels have hold zero weight. sarah wanted to showcase gwyn. sarah wanted her and az to have a history. sarah wanted us to pay attention to them. why else would she have cassian constantly commenting on them? cass was sjm's big flashing sigh saying to LOOK

[callsignspark]

Bradley and Mary

straddling your partner's thighs

look at what you've done, anon. I've gone and written something ridiculously long.

send me a physical intimacy prompt for any of my Dagger, Sword & Shield couples!

your lap is my safe place - part i

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, uterine cancer (discussions of a terminal illness and treatment), death due to cancer (established universe death), grief over losing a parent, funerals, panic attacks, vomiting, you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 7.1k

part ii - coming soon

note: originally, this was supposed to be a short, simple prompt answer - one part sad and one part smutty - but it's gotten extremely out of hand due to my inability to be brief. so this is part one (the sad part), and the smutty sequel will be coming (ha) sometime early next week. and when I say this part is sad, I mean sad. some of this is very much based on my experience with loved ones who have had cancer and/or were terminally ill. it was very therapeutic to write, even if I did cry a whole lot.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002 | 06:35 A.M.

Bradley wakes up to his alarm clock blaring in his ear, feeling like he’s going to throw up, which is weird for him. Mav says that he’s never met anyone with a stronger stomach. Eighteen-year-olds have stomachs of steel, his mom jokes when she’s having a good day.

He stumbles down the hall and hangs his head over the toilet. Nothing comes up. The nausea goes away in a few minutes, but his gut still feels twisted. He brushes his teeth and decides the likely culprit is the new recipe Mav attempted for dinner last night. He choked down a few bites of the horrible fish tacos before his uncle called it a failure and ordered pizza.

Back in his room, it doesn’t take him long to finish getting ready, pulling on his new first-day-of-school outfit and shaping his mustache. He doesn’t care what Slider says; it’s looking good, much thicker than when he started growing it in April.

“It’s my first day of senior year, my last first day of school. Until the academy, anyway. But with the summer training, the first day of classes probably won’t even feel like a first day.”

His father’s official Lieutenant-JG portrait stares back at him. Unanswering as he fixes his hair.

“Mom is getting worse… She’s getting weaker; I don’t think we have very long before she has to go into hospice. I really want her to get better - I wished for it - but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

He swallows hard and fights back tears, remembering his birthday just a few months ago. Everything hadn’t seemed quite as bad then as it is now.

“I hope she can make it to Christmas. I almost have enough money saved up to buy her that pair of earrings that look like the ones Princess Diana had at her wedding. They’re not real pearls like hers, obviously, but the lady at the jewelry counter told me they’re replicas, so I think she’ll like them anyway.”

Brown eyes identical to his own stare back at him. Hints of the mischievous, prank-loving man visible in the polite smile captured. The old photo is carefully tucked into the edge of his mirror; it was his mom’s first, but she gave it to him when he was eight. She had caught him staring at it every day for a week, quietly talking to it about his day.

“Wish me luck, Goose. It’s gonna be a big year.”

Downstairs, he’s greeted with the second weird thing of the day. First, his stomach, and now his mom is flipping pancakes. She’s hardly had the strength to use the bathroom by herself in the last six months, but this morning, she’s standing at the stove, singing along to the radio, and making his favorite breakfast.

She’s always said that bad things happen in threes, but strange things happen in pairs.

He thinks she might be right, but if she feels good, he’s not complaining. She never feels good anymore.

“There he is! Oh, Mav! Look at my baby boy, all grown up and ready for his last year of high school!”

“Ma…” He groans, and without prompting, he bends down to let her kiss and pinch his cheeks like he always does.

He’s not sure how many good days she has left, so he tries his best to behave and make her life easier.

He doesn't complain when she asks him to take the garbage out after he already did; her memory hasn’t been as good since she got sick. He keeps the anger inside when everyone forgets his baseball games because she had chemo; it’s more important for Mav and Ice to take care of her than to watch him throw a ball around. He even offered up his college fund to help pay for another round of treatment. He was denied before he could even finish the suggestion, but he just wants her to get better more than anything in the world.

Needs her to get better.

She sets a stack of pancakes in front of him, and again, he has the urge to cry when she kisses the top of his head. Her perfume takes over his senses, and if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s little again.

A massive stack of fluffy, perfectly round pancakes, slathered in butter and syrup, filled with his mom’s love.

Mav sitting across the table from him, drinking the worst black coffee to exist on the planet.

His mom humming off-key at the stove, her beautiful, golden hair swishing as she gets into a song.

But then he opens his eyes, and he’s not little anymore.

The pancakes are still covered with butter and enough syrup to give him a cavity, but they’re not the same. They’re flat and mishappen; her arms aren’t very strong anymore, so Mav must’ve had to help her.

Mav still sits across from him, terrible black coffee in his mug, but now he looks old. Too old for someone in his thirties. They’ve been lucky he’s been able to be here this past year. After Mom got sick, Ice and Viper pulled some strings to get him assigned to a shore-duty desk job. Bradley knows he hates it. Can see it in the way he watches every plane that passes overhead - civilian, military, it doesn’t matter - his fingers twitching to be the one controlling the powerful engines. But he never complains, is steady and strong, taking Mom to appointments and Bradley to school.

His mom is humming at the stove for the first time in a long time, somehow more in tune than she’s ever been. He wants to make a joke about how the treatments must have fixed her tone-deafness, but it would just make everyone sad. A reminder that it’s the only thing her treatment has fixed.

It’s taken everything else away.

Her skin, once bright and youthful, is now dull and gray-toned. Her energy has been zapped; she doesn’t even have it in her to make it through their Sunday movie nights. Her body is frail. She was always slim, but now she borders on gaunt, her appetite nonexistent most of the time. Her hair was the first thing to go, a rotation of brightly colored scarfs and hats replacing the blonde strands that used to reach her shoulders. He looks at today’s choice. A bright red scarf that matches the white sundress and red cardigan she’s pulled on.

She looks pretty.

“You look pretty, mom.”

It grabs the attention of both adults, the two of them staring long enough that he squirms in his chair.

“Thank you, baby.” Her pleased smile tells him it was the right thing to say. “You don’t want your pancakes?”

“I do. They look great, but my stomach kinda hurt when I got up, so I don’t want to eat right now. I’m sorry. If you put them in the fridge, I can eat them for dinner.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! It’s a special day; we’re going to have something special for dinner! Something that Mav won’t be making.” The teasing smile she sends to the table makes the knot in his stomach unwind some. It makes him feel good enough to take a small bite.

The shape is wrong, and they’re not fluffy enough, but the taste is the same. The flavor melts over his tongue. The pressure in his chest, the one that showed up around the same time as his mom’s cancer diagnosis, lightens a little bit.

I should fake sick and stay home.

The thought comes out of left field, but he’s immediately on board. She hasn’t had a good day in forever, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Who knows when the next one will come. If there will even be another good day. He wants to spend time with his mom while she knows what’s happening.

“My stomach hurts; I don’t think I can go to school.” He groans and grabs his stomach, trying to look as pathetic as possible to sell his story.

He’s forgotten how sharp his mom is, how well she knows him. “Nice try, honey. You were fine two seconds ago, and you’re not missing your first day of senior year. Now, c’mon! It’s photo time!”

Carole is marching towards the front door before he can argue, so he tries to sway Mav in his favor. But the dark-haired man just shakes his head and avoids eye contact, grabbing the camera off the counter. Bradley stands in the middle of the kitchen, the knot retwisting itself.

He suddenly realizes that his upset stomach has nothing to do with yesterday’s tilapia trying to get its revenge and everything to do with what he overheard in the waiting room during his mom’s last checkup.

“I know, I heard. Isn’t it terrible? He'd been sick for a while, but it seemed like he was getting better. He even took his kids on a bike ride, and then - BAM! - he was gone the next day!”

“Oh, that happens a lot with people who are sick for a long time. Toward the end, they get this sudden burst of energy. It’s like God’s way of giving a happy memory to them and their loved ones. Letting them have one last good day before they go.”

He’s actually going to throw up this time.

Bradley drags his feet all the way to the front door, delaying his departure as much as possible. He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows he’s not going to win any fight against her right now - he’s going to school, come hell or high water. And he doesn’t want to fight with his mom; instead, he chooses to commit the moment to memory.

The gentle touch of her hands as she fusses with his hair, making sure it’s just right before any photos.

The brightness of her smile, how it’s the one thing that’s never dimmed despite everything she’s gone through.

The teasing barbs she exchanges with Mav, the man who has been family to her for longer than Bradley has been alive.

He looks at Mav, the man who has done his best to help raise him. Tried so hard to be a fatherly figure in place of the man who was lost too soon. Mav looks tired, Bradley wonders if he’s thinking the same thing as him.

She’s going. She’s going, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

Just like every year since kindergarten, they squish together on the porch, his mom wrapping her arm around his waist. He thinks about how she used to have to squat down so their heads were together. Now, she’d have to go on her tiptoes, and he’d have to crouch down for that to happen.

He knows his smile looks fake; he has to force himself because this might be the last photo he gets with his mom, and that makes him sad beyond words. Carole quickly fixes that, tickling his side on that one spot that always gets him. He giggles and tries to squirm away, his smile turning happy and real as she laughs at him.

“You’re just like your father; he was ticklish in the exact same spot.”

Even the talk of Goose doesn’t bring them down like it usually does. Today, it lifts everyone’s spirit to realize how much he’s like the father he didn’t get to know.

After Mav has taken an ungodly number of photos, Bradley asks for the camera and stands next to his uncle. He snaps photo after photo of his mom, hoping that if he takes enough, he won’t ever be able to forget this moment. Then he shuffles Mav on the porch and takes photos of the pseudo-siblings. He rearranges them one last time, setting the camera on the porch railing and hitting the timer.

He doesn’t know it yet, but that photo of the three of them standing in the yard with the Bronco just visible in the background will be the last photo taken of his mother. As an adult, it will be tied for first place with five others as his favorite photo of all time.

After the last flash, Carole pulls him close. “I am so proud of you, Bradley. Your dad would be so proud of you. You’re such a good boy. I love you so much.”

He hugs her tighter than he should; he can’t help it. The little gasp she lets out at the intensity of his hug makes him feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t want to let her go.

“I know, honey. I know. It’s okay.” She tries to soothe her baby, who isn’t a baby anymore. He’s a full-grown man who is so much smarter and wiser than any 18-year-old should ever be. He’s been through so much more than any kid should ever have to go through. She feels bad about how quickly he’s had to grow up. “Everything is gonna be okay.”

No, it’s not going to be okay. But he holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to cry when she’s having a good day. He reluctantly lets go and slips on his sunglasses - aviators, just like Goose - before heading for his car, knowing that if he doesn’t go now, he’ll never be able to make himself leave.

With his stomach in even more knots than he thought possible, Bradley heads off to school, waving as he pulls out of the driveway. Trying to burn the image of his mom waving, one hand on her hip as Mav nudges her and makes her laugh.

From the moment he parks the Bronco in the seniors-only lot, the entire school day feels like torture. He can’t even enjoy the beginning of his senior year, something he had been waiting for.

Senior year means graduation. Graduation means going to college. College means packing his stuff for Annapolis. Annapolis means he can finally start working on his dream.

He’ll learn how to be an aviator while roaming the same halls as Goose while he learns the ins and outs of aeronautical engineering. He might even be lucky enough to get placed in the same dorm room. Being an aviator means he’ll be just like his father. And Mav. And Ice. And Slider. And all of his other uncles from the class of '86. But he can’t bring himself to be excited like usual.

Instead, he’s on edge the entire day. Waiting to get called to the nurse’s office. They all had agreed as a family - Bradley, Carole, Mav, and Ice - that if she passed when he was at school, they would have the front office call him down to the nurse’s office. Ice would pick him up, Mav likely busy dealing with the doctors and the funeral home and everything.

He can barely eat the lunch his mom packed. A peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, cut into triangles like when he was little. Chips, cucumber slices, and a chocolate chip cookie round out the meal. He tosses most of the food but is careful to keep the little note she had put in the brown paper bag.

I love you, Bradley. You’re going to do great things.

He presses it between the pages of his calculus textbook before he goes to gym, making sure he doesn’t bend the pink sticky note, preserving her swirly handwriting as best he can.

Finally, the bell signaling the end of the eighth period rings. Relief washes through his body. There’s been no call from the nurse, and his school day is over. He hastily packs his bookbag and practically skips towards the parking lot, waving at some friends still in class. He’s one got free period during ninth period, and as a senior, he gets to leave early if he has no class.

He’s planning his route home - he wants to stop at the corner store to grab a treat for his mom - when he skids to a stop where the concrete sidewalk meets asphalt.

Ice is leaning against the bumper of the Bronco.

“Happy birthday, Bradley!” His mom yells before blowing a kazoo.

He couldn’t be happier. It’s his birthday, his mom is having a good day, and he just got the keys to the Bronco. It’s officially his, just like he always dreamed it would be.

“Your dad’s dream was for you two to fix it up together and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday,” Mav explained. “I know I can’t replace him, but we had a good time working on it, right?”

Bradley nods and hugs his uncle. Mav will never be his actual dad, but he’s the closest thing he has to one. He helped raise him. He had sacrificed so many weekends to spend time with him, showing him how to fix the Bronco or throw a football with a perfect spiral. He’d even taken him on motorcycle rides, but they agreed not to tell Mom about that.

“Okay, knock it off, you saps. It’s time to blow out your candles, Baby Goose!” Slider enters the dining room, looking ridiculous with a crooked party hat on his head. He’s concentrating hard to balance a cake that’s much too big for the six people in attendance at his birthday dinner.

It’s set in front of Bradley, and he laughs when he sees the cake is covered in little plane toys. It looks like a cake made for a little kid, and he loves it. Aunt Sarah lights his candles and starts singing. He sits there for 30 seconds, watching his family sing off-key and thinking about how he loves his family so much his heart hurts.

“Okay, baby! Close your eyes and make a wish!” Carole smooths a hand over his hair.

He smiles up at her. “Only if you help me, ma.”

She bends down, doing a quick countdown before they close their eyes and blow out the candles together. For the first time in years, Bradley actually makes a wish.

Please don’t let my mom die. I need her.

Ice is talking to Slider, who’s parked in his white Jeep, and even from this distance, he can tell they’ve been crying.

Slider has obviously given Ice a ride to school, and now they’re waiting for him. If Ice doesn’t have his truck, that means he’s going to be driving Bradley. And that can only mean one thing.

She’s gone. My wish didn’t come true.

His backpack hits the ground at the same time as his knees, and he throws up. It’s not a lot; he’s barely eaten today, and by the time his uncles reach him - their feet pounding on the pavement - he’s just sobbing and dry heaving into the grass.

“Breathe, Bradley. You gotta breathe, buddy.” He can’t tell which one is talking; blood is rushing in his ears, and he just keeps crying.

“Bradley.” It’s Ice, holding his face up. “Listen to me. Your mom is not dead. Do you hear me? She’s not gone. But she had to be taken to the hospital; we’re still waiting for the test results. We’re gonna go there right now, but you need to breathe first, okay? You gotta breathe.”

He does his best to stop crying and take in air. His body literally shudders on the first breath, his lungs greedily sucking in the oxygen. After a few breaths, a water bottle is shoved in front of his face. He doesn’t even know where it came from, but he drinks, his throat raw.

Slider pops a mint into his mouth before helping him stand. “It’ll help your throat and your stomach.”

He races to the car, throwing the keys to Ice, who almost drops them. Both adults speed out of the parking lot, heading directly for the hospital.

Halfway there Ice has a chilling realization. The car is silent. If he’s learned anything in the last twenty-odd years, it’s that a car ride involving a Bradshaw is never silent. There’s always talking and laughing. Usually, you can count on singing and bad seat dancing, but today, it’s silent. There’s not even the sound of crying. And when he looks over at Bradley, he’s startled to find him catatonically staring out the windshield, his face bone dry. He looks like a statue, and it freaks Ice out how quickly he’s shut down. He hasn’t attended Sunday service in a long time, doesn’t even know if he believes in a higher power, but at that moment, he sends off prayers to every deity he can name, hoping that one of them can pull off a miracle for the boy who’s already dealt with so much.

It’s even worse at the hospital, Slider nabbing the spot next to them seconds after Ice shifts into park. The three of them hurry towards the ICU, where a nurse lets them all in after she hears who they’re visiting. Technically, only Bradley and Pete meet the requirements to be allowed in, but the entire ward is aware of the situation and are prepared to let as many people visit as needed.

Bradley freezes halfway to Carole’s room, Slider almost running him over. A priest is walking out of her room. He shakes hands with Mav and somberly nods at the frozen trio when he passes.

Mav watches as his best friends gently nudge his godson forward. His heart feels like it’s splitting in two as tears start streaming down Bradley’s face. A face that looks so old and so young at the same time. Maverick feels like he’s watching his 18-year-old nephew transform into the little boy who just lost his dad. His lower lip trembles just like it used to when he would fall and scrap his knee. Except this time, there’s nothing Mav can do to make it better. There’s no antibacterial spray, no Spiderman band-aid, no over-dramatic kiss with magical healing powers. This time, there’s only a young man who’s now taller than him. He stands in the doorway with red eyes and a mustache that makes him look so much like Goose.

“What happened?” Bradley croaks, afraid to enter the room. He hates the way his mom looks when she’s hooked up to all those machines. The beeping hurts his ears. “Why was the priest in here?”

“I don’t know, kid. We were about to eat lunch, and she collapsed. The doctors don’t know either; the test results didn’t show anything that’s telling them what’s going on. Everything is just suddenly worse.” Mav gets choked up; he can hardly continue. “They uh- they said this is probably it. That we should say our goodbyes. That’s why I had the priest come in. When we talked about her final wishes a while ago, she made me promise she would get her last rites.”

Bradley tackles him in a hug before he finishes talking. They cry together, mourning the loss that hasn’t happened yet.

The four of them have been sitting in silence for hours, listening to the beep of the heart monitor, when Bradley speaks up from his post beside his mom. “What else does she want? I know she wants to be buried next to Goose, but what else? She didn’t tell me.”

“She wants yellow carnations in her arrangements. Her wedding band stays with her, just like Goose, but her engagement ring goes to you. She wants to be wearing that blue dress she wore when she first met your dad.”

“That’s it?”

“There are a few more legal things, like with the house and the cars, but that’s laid out in her will. She made me promise I’ll take care of you, which I was always going to do no matter what.”

And she made me promise I’ll never let you fly.

Mav doesn’t add that final promise to the list; it’s not the right time for that conversation. He’s not sure it’ll ever be the right time.

Carole can feel herself getting weaker, but today is a good day; she feels good. Strong.

“Peter Howard Mitchell! Listen to me, you stupid, stubborn, obnoxious jackass! We don’t have a lot of time before Bradley gets back, and we need to talk about this!”

Bradley had felt guilty about leaving to go to the movies with Tessa Richardson, but Carole had insisted - he’d had a crush on that girl for years. It was about time he had his first kiss. And she was 95% certain it was going to happen today. Her motherly instincts were tingling.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Carole! I’m sick of every conversation we have being about you dying!”

“You think I like talking about it? Knowing that I’m leaving behind my little boy?” She gets in his face, yelling with every ounce of strength she can summon. “You think I like knowing that my body is giving up? That I’m dying? I can feel it happening, Pete! I can feel myself drifting away! And nothing the doctors are doing is helping! I know that it’s scaring Bradley, scaring you, but it’s scaring me most of all!”

Maverick catches her, and they sink to the ground; she sobs in his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry; I’m so sorry, Carole. What do you need me to do?”

“Bradley can’t fly.” She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “He can’t fly for the Navy, Pete. I know he wants to, but you can’t let him.”

“But Carole, it’s his dream to-”

“To die just like his father?” Her words shock him. “I love Nick more than anything, Pete, you know that. But do you know what I would do to have him here with us today? Do you realize I’ve lived three times as long without my husband than I did with him? It’s been fifteen years - almost sixteen. I only knew Nick for five, and we were only married for three before he was gone. I would do anything to have Bradley know his father.”

“Care…”

“You’ve been incredible, Mav. You’ve done your best to be a father to him; he loves you so much. I love you so much; you’re my best friend. But I've missed my husband every day for the last fifteen years. He was the love of my life, and I miss him so much my heart hurts. I’m not going to be here, but I can’t stand the thought of the same thing happening to Bradley. I won’t let that happen to my baby. So, you have to promise me, Pete. Promise me you won’t let him fly.”

They sit on the floor in silence, staring at each other. The internal debate roars inside Maverick, hurting his chest. He loves the Bradshaws more than anything. He would do anything for them. He still feels guilty about his best friend’s death, knows it was his fault, even if the investigation said he was innocent. The guilt of Goose being gone eats away at him, little by little each day.

Carole is right.

He can’t - he won’t - lose Bradley the same way.

“I promise I’ll do my best to keep him out of the air. But Carole, he’s almost an adult. Soon, there won’t be much I can do to control him. I can’t stop him from applying to the Academy or joining the Navy.”

“Yes, you can. Get Ice to pull some strings, indebt yourself to Viper. Do whatever you have to do. Do everything you can to protect him, Pete.” Her voice is cold and emotionless, knowing it will destroy her son, but at least he’ll be alive.

It was the one and only time they had talked about it, but every time Bradley excitedly talked about his future, Carole would look at him with this face that made Mav feel awful. It’s her request, but he was going to be the reason Bradley’s dreams were crushed.

Mav leans over in his chair, guilt and hopelessness consuming his body. The knowledge that his godson was about to be more like him in all the ways he never wanted.

Orphaned. Mother dying, with a broken heart, years after his father was killed while flying.

Denied entrance to the Naval Academy due to something beyond his control.

“She doesn’t want anything else?”

“No.”

It’s the last word spoken. A lie.

Slider and Ice spend the night just outside the door in some extra chairs an orderly had been kind enough to scrounge up. Mav shifts between standing at Carole’s side to hold her hand and sitting ramrod straight at the foot of her bed.

Bradley stays by his mom’s side the entire night, clutching her left hand. He plays with her wedding band, twisting it around her finger like he used to when he was little. He thinks about how different everything is going to be. He’s going to be alone a lot more now. He’s legally an adult, so when Mav gets deployed or transferred, there won’t be a need to scramble to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the house or if it’s even his to worry about. Mav, Ice, and his mom had taken care of the legal stuff without him. He wonders if Slider would loan him some money so he can get those earrings. She won’t be able to appreciate them, but he still wants her to have them. It’s the last thing he’ll be able to do for her. They’ll go nice with her blue dress, he thinks. He sits there and thinks. He’s there the whole time.

He’s there, wide awake, when Carole takes her last breath at 3:14 AM on September 4th. He’s there when the doctor comes in to declare her dead; he shakes Bradley’s hand, giving him the first of the thousand condolences that will follow. He’s there when the nurse comes in to turn off the monitors and unhook the IVs; she gently asks if he wants to leave while she cleans his mom up, but he refuses. He doesn’t have a lot of time left before he’ll never see her again; he can’t waste any time. He’s there for another hour, trying to say his goodbyes through sobs. He’s there until his uncles drag him out, promising him that he’ll see her again before the funeral. He’s still there, mentally, when he goes to sleep at Uncle Tom’s house. He and Pete are sleeping over, neither of them ready to face the house.

He’s there three days later, shyly asking the funeral director if it would be too much trouble to change his mom’s earrings. When he asked Uncle Ron about the money, he put them both in the car, drove to the mall, and paid for the earrings without question. The two of them hugged for a long time before they went home. He’s there at the viewing, next to his mother’s casket for hours, numbingly accepting condolences and hugs from hundreds of people. The one bright spot is being reminded how many people loved his mom. How wonderful she was to everyone she met.

He’s there at the graveside service, the first to place a rose on the polished wood. He stays there once it ends, refusing to leave, watching as the casket is lowered and the hole is filled with dirt. He’s there to place a bouquet of yellow carnations, her favorite, on top of the fresh earth. He pats the dual gravestone, one half still blank, before he lets Mav pull him to the car. He looks back one last time, and as the sunshine dries his tears, he swears he can hear his parents' laughter in the wind.

As an adult, now with two dead parents and one estranged, he’s there every year that he’s not deployed. He clears away any weeds and leaves before placing a bouquet of yellow carnations on the gravestone that now bears two names. Sometimes, there’s a single red rose already there when he arrives. Those are the years he knows Mav beat him to saying hello. He’s there for hours at a time, sitting with his parents and eating a bag of trail mix with extra M&Ms added - Goose’s favorite.

The first year that he and Mary are together, he’s there alone. He trusts her implicitly, and she knows the whole story. He told her what happened with Mav and everything that followed; it was a conversation they had early on. But this is something too raw, too personal, to share so soon in a relationship. He’s spent so many years doing this by himself that he’s not sure how he would handle having another person with him. Even if it was someone he loves so much.

Mary understands.

“Of course, you understand, you’re perfect.”

“I’m not perfect, Bradley. I just care about your feelings.”

“You’re perfect for me.” He kisses her before she can protest. “Thank you for caring about me.”

The day of, she kisses him softly as he leaves, pushing a sandwich bag of trail mix into his hand. Her only ask is to tell her when he gets home safe if he needs space, letting him know that her house is always open if he doesn’t want to spend the night alone.

He spends that first year catching them up. Now that he’s stationed in San Diego, it’s easier to visit more often, but several things have happened since his last stop. Usually, he talks for a bit and then sits in silence, choosing to reminisce on the happy memories. This time, he spends most of the time talking. Telling his parents about Mav, the shenanigans of the Dagger Squad, about Mary. He tells them all about Mary. How much he loves her, how he hasn’t said it yet because it’s only officially been two months, how he’s pretty sure she can tell anyway. He goes on and on about her eyes, her kindness, her intelligence.

“I love her so much; I’m going to marry her.” He blurts it out, a small gasp following his declaration to the etched granite stone. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And now he can’t stop thinking about it.

Mary in a white dress with a veil sitting on her pretty brown hair, a gold band on her ring finger. The two of them committing themselves to each other in front of all their loved ones. Twirling her around the dance floor to their song, dipping her at the end to kiss her and make her blush. Everything that would follow. A house. A dog. A few kids. Diapers and dance recitals to gray hair and wrinkles.

“Holy shit… I’m going to marry her.” The breeze ruffles his hair, and he knows it’s his parents. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll make sure we’re married before I get her pregnant, unlike you two.”

He decides to stay the night at Mary’s, feeling better than he ever has on this day. He goes to find her the moment he enters the house, using the key she recently gave him. She’s on her office floor, organizing her bookshelf, when he presses himself against her, devouring her in a kiss. Bradley’s added weight throws her off balance, and the two of them topple over, sprawled in the paperbacks.

When he finally pulls back, he’s pleased to see that she’s flushed and her chest is heaving.

“I’m not complaining, but what was that?”

“I’ve never had someone to come home to after visiting them; I’ve always done it alone.” He talks into her neck, enjoying the way her fingers tighten in his hair when his lips brush her skin. “I’m just really thankful I have you.”

“Oh, Bradley…” Mary doesn’t know what to say. She loves this man so much, and she knows it’s too soon to say that, so she shows him. The night ends with a shower and papercuts in places where papercuts should never happen.

The day sneaks up on him the second year they’re together. They’ve been busy; between work, helping Jake with his surprise, and preparing to move in together, August went by in a blink. It leaves him with no time to mentally prepare.

Bradley jolts awake, sweat covering his temples and his heart thumping. It’s the worst nightmare he’s had in months. It was a twisted mess of awful moments. Some real, some imagined. Reliving his mother’s death but worse, almost dying on the uranium mission, losing Mary to cancer, same as his mom. He woke up just as a doctor was telling him she was gone and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t go back there. Her husband doesn’t want anyone else back there. You’ll have to wait for the funeral… if you’re even allowed in, asshole.”

He whips the covers off and trips his way to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before his dinner makes a return trip. The commotion wakes Mary, and she quickly makes her way to him, finding him laying on the floor, his shirt whipped into the tub.

His chest is so tight it hurts. He can’t believe he’s having a panic attack. He hasn’t had a full-on panic attack in years. There’s been anxiety, moments where he can’t easily catch his breath and his heart beating faster than it should, but nothing like this. He feels like he’s drenched in sweat, his heart is pounding, and he can’t breathe.

“Bradley? Look at me, sweetie.”

Mary.

“Can you look at me, Bradley?” He can hardly see through the tears. “I know it’s hard because you’re crying so hard, but look at me.”

It takes all his strength to turn his head, but he does it because he knows she’s worried.

“There you are. Okay, baby, I need you to breathe with me.”

He’s not exactly sure how she does it, but she helps him calm down. His body listens to her instructions before his brain realizes.

It takes a while, but he can breathe normally again. She helps him sit up, propping himself against the tub and letting his head fall back. He hears the sink run before there’s a soft touch on his shoulder.

“Gonna touch you, that okay?” He nods, appreciative of how considerate she is, always thinking of him.

Mary gently wipes his face, cleaning it of tears and sweat before brushing the washcloth over his arms and chest. It helps ground him, feeling more inside his body than before.

“What time is it?” Bradley rasps as she rinses the cloth.

“Late. Or early, depending on how you want to think about it.” She peeks out of the door, checking the time. Her face is somber when she comes back to him. “It’s 3:20, honey.”

“Twenty years… she’s been gone for twenty years.” He reaches for her, and she easily complies, straddling his thighs when he tugs her hand.

They sit in silence, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms.

“I had a nightmare.” He starts, answering her silent question. “It was her death and the uranium mission back-to-back, losing her and then him.”

She hums, encouraging him to continue. She doesn’t know the details of that mission - her clearance level is high but not that high - but she knows that he and Mav barely made it back. Both of them brushing hands with death multiple times.

They have nightmares. Less frequently now that they’re a few years down the road, but they still happen. Mav dreams that he doesn’t save them, that one of the bogeys gets them before Hangman reaches them. Bradley’s feature him missing the helicopter, having to watch Mav bleed out.

“Then it was you. You were sick. It was the same thing as Mom, uterine cancer. And I couldn’t even say goodbye. You married someone else, and I wasn’t allowed in.”

She takes a sharp breath. That’s new.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mary. I love you so much, I think it would kill me.”

“Oh, honey.” She cradles his face, forcing him to look at her. “You listen to me, Bradley Bradshaw. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I love you more than anything. In two weeks, we’re going to be living together. When the time is right, we’re going to get married and have a family.”

She can't help but press a quick kiss to his mouth. “And I’m healthy. There’s no history of uterine or breast cancer in my family, and I just had my annual appointment last week. All the tests came back negative for bad things. Nothing is wrong. I'm totally healthy, okay? I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“You’re right, I can’t. We can’t control everything, and sometimes bad things happen. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to make sure I don’t ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and scratchy. “I know it’s hard with what I do, but I promise you’re my number one thought when I’m in the air; coming home safe to you is my top priority.”

“Now, I’m gonna cry, Bradley.” They both let out watery laughs. “You’re such a sweet man.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go back to bed; I need my beauty sleep before I meet your parents.” She pulls him up, and they fall asleep quickly, tucked together as the early morning light peeks through the curtains.

When they get to the cemetery the next afternoon, a red rose sits on the headstone. One step in front of him, Mary picks it up and brushes some leaves off the base. He watches as she places the flower back in its spot, plucking a few dandelions before she stands.

“There,” she says, brushing dirt off her hands, “that’s better.”

The wind picks up, twisting her long hair around, and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. She’s very pretty. I’m working on proposing. We gotta do some stuff first, but it’s coming.” He mutters under his breath.

“What was that, honey?”

“Nothing, baby doll. Want to help me put the blanket down?” His hat blows off, and he scowls at the tree that’s nearby, smiling when he hears her muffled giggle.

Miss you, dad.

part six will be coming next week! have a great weekend everyone!

@gretagerwigsmuse | @bobfloyds | @hangmanbrainrot | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

[thevindicativevordan]

If DC is to a "Ultimate DC" for Superman? What would be your preferred vision / direction for Superman and his mythology? In other words, how would you handle an "Ultimate DC" Superman?

If DC has greenlit this, it's 100% because of the success of Hickman's Ultimate Marvel relaunch. Therefore the logical thing to do is take a look at what Hickman has done. His Ultimate line is a success in part because it serves as a contrast to the main 616 universe, while also throwing in a few genuine curveballs to attract interest. Approaching an Ultimate Superman with that mindset, here's his status quo as I would establish it:

First off: Put him in a different suit. The only complaint I have with regards to Hickman's Ultimate Spider-Man is that he's wearing the classic suit with a slightly different spider symbol. I get that 1610 Peter was the same, and Hickman is simply following tradition, but I think that if you plan on having an alternate counterpart to your main hero exist on an ongoing basis, their costumes should be different enough to let anyone identify who is who at a glance. For an Ultimate Superman, that means a different s-shield and no trunks. Let the Earth 0 guy wear the classic outfit, and put Ultimate Superman in something like the pic above. Also incorporate some of the New 52 designs that marked him as younger, like the messier hair.

Earth 0 Superman serves as the head of an extended "family" who wear variations on his crest and share in his mission. Ultimate Superman therefore should be a loner, at least at the start. No Kara, John Henry Irons, Kon, Kenan, or any other fellow Supers. No World's Finest partnership or Justice League either, I want Ult. Supes isolated.

Hickman gave us a married Spider-Man to contrast with the eternal bachelor 616 Spider-Man. Therefore the Ultimate Superman should be the eternal bachelor to his married mainline counterpart. Therefore if he's dating anyone it should not be Lois. Pair him with Lana or a villain like Livewire/Maxima, make a new OC love interest, don't have him dating anyone at the start, whatever. But we've seen Clark and Lois together as boyfriend/girlfriend and as husband/wife, don't immediately rush into that here. Keeping this Superman free to date others helps keep him unique and worth reading on an ongoing basis.

Against my wishes, Pa and Ma are alive again on Earth 0. Fine - kill them off here. Again, Earth 0 Superman has the large family, Ultimate Superman is a loner.

Keep the power levels low. My preference would be to have this Superman starting off at Golden Age/early New 52 levels of strength. He can't fly, can't bench press a planet, can't liquify concrete with a glare, can't hear a bird squawk a galaxy across, he's a street level hero who's basically Spider-Man tier. Earth 0 Superman is insanely powerful thanks to PKJ buffing him, let's make this guy more grounded.

We need a few wild curveballs like how Hickman killed Aunt May but kept Uncle Ben alive on Earth 6160, or how Peter and Harry don't know each other at all. My approach? Ultimate Clark does not work for a news organization, not a traditional print/legacy one anyway. He does not work for the Daily Planet, or even the Daily Star, he works as a writer for the popular podcast Wired In With Williams, hosted by Leslie Williams and exclusively licensed by CatCo (major entertainment/new conglomerate owned by CEO Cat Grant). Lois and her comrades at the Daily Planet are Clark's rivals, the dying remnants of traditional journalism who are giving way to the "new media". I would defy tradition by not having Clark ultimately join the Daily Planet - instead the Planet ultimately closes it's doors and it's Lois and her co-workers who find their way to Catco.

Jimmy is not a photographer, he's a vlogger and an incredibly popular one too. Everyone loves seeing him investigate weird shit that frequently results in Superman showing up to bail him out. Clark also helps script Jimmy's videos like he does with Leslie, and the two are close. They were roommates but Jimmy ended up moving somewhere nicer while Clark remains living in Suicide Slum.

Current Superman run makes heavy use of Lex - therefore I'd buck tradition again and not have Lex be featured for the first year. Instead, Ultra-Humanite and his Intergang, Red Cloud and the Invisible Mafia, and the secretive group known only as the 100 serve as the criminal foes Superman must face, with Maggie Sawyer and her Special Crimes Unit hunting Superman for his vigilante activities.

Earth 0 Superman is beloved and trusted, Ultimate Superman is hated and feared. People do not like or trust this freak, even the common folks Superman is trying to protect. He's viewed as a dangerous outlaw with uncertain motives. At the start people do not know he's an alien, most believe him to be a human with superpowers.

Instead of the North Pole, Superman's Fortress is in a pocket dimension called "The Phantom Zone", and he is able to teleport there via a "signal watch".

This is the basic building blocks for how I would approach creating an "Ultimate Superman". It's a status quo that is recognizably Superman, but also different enough from the mainline version to intrigue.

[polarized-here]

POLAR I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR OCS AND SEE THEIR CONCEPT ART‼️ please I need food, I need to eat your art sjdhhsjdhsj /lh

GRAHH FINE SINCE YOU ASKED… my lore. Sorry this is so late gngahgahshsjsh… you literally caught me as dinner came home. Like. Oops… crazy… right after I knocked out shekhrkdbddmbd anyway! :)

Under the cut because it may or may not be a long thing, with most plot points just being little ideas—no fully fleshed story, just, erm. Ideas I like.

Update. It’s long. Also tumblr is so glitchy rn it kept making this saved post disappear and then reappear in my asks after I exited the app and opened it again what the fuck 😭😭

So, in this world, a majority of the population do. Not. Have powers, having them is seen as a blessing, But… It's a dystopian themed world—where these powers are incredibly monitored and regulated by the government—with some being minor, and some being full on changes to the physical body and how they manifest. (ie. My excuse for drawing anthros… or kemonomimi… shushhhh/also allows me to just dump all of my ocs which you may have seen before, in one little world and play with them like they’re my puppets :( I love them sm!! One of them sora is from DND they hold a special place in my heart...)

But again, having these powers is seen as a blessing from a God of some sort—and a curse, as while they’re regulated by the national government heavily, some individuals still manage to slip by, or cause harm to the general public, so from this, they (the gov) took advantage of this to instill a system of ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ there’s a few ‘vigilantes’ but most either become heroes (through turning themselves in and doing plenty of community service work, and discussing a contract with some government representatives—most who become heroes are never the same. They always have a look in their eyes, as if valor to help their nation has blinded them), but some may become villains.

Heroes are those who just have a license and have signed a contract with the government—most get these contracts renewed or take a small few month break in between contract renewals. They’re unable to use their powers in these circumstances, unless it’s out of self defense. Civilians can too (those not heroes, are regulated by the government heavily, and choose not to pursue it. But it’s like US NAVAL contracts too. you can join programs in the gov that give you supplemental access and benefits to college/pay it off, etc etc etc. like the national guard but more celebritized), but they (civilians) need to find a GOOD lawyer. There’s so many laws that heroes are naturally given a smalllllll pass over, that it’s just best to run away, or be a hero in that small instance.

(This has sm mha influence. As sad as it is, that show influenced me sm. Got me into trying art. Fr fr/on digital. PLA is just where it improved a weeee bit).

OKAYYY ENOUGH AGOUT THE SET UP!! THE CHARACTERS… I’m so sorry idk why I’m rambling this much, I’m not even hyperfixated on my own OCs. Like what the fuck.

Anyways! A key note is that having bright colored hair is a key identification that you probably have powers that haven’t manifested yet, and the hair is always a bright color, unless, you’re Astor!

He’s got so much trauma *slaps roof of car.* You can fit so much trauma in this one bad boy. And despite it all he remains a good person. Dawg. You have more strength then I’d ever have. But igggg the want and need to help people because you were hurt and want to make a change does seem motivation enough… anyways. They’re so marysue coreee

The main character & a small-time vigilante going to the new school that’s just been set up. His hair only really turns those bright colors when she’s using their powers—but in the ref it’s just for convenience sake. She has so many skeletons in her closet, that they can’t risk being caught. But they love helping people too much. They’re a bit altruistic.

Here’s their vigilante suit ref :)

For ease of mind, they always have a small bit of static on their hands—both to stun new people meeting them. To make the air feel charged with thunder and electricity—a warning to her presence, and because it means their hair stays that color. No matter the charge. His eyes stay the same color though. Again. These are some old doodles from last year of some characters. Notably, that I also revamped. Heroes, villains, and vigilantes stories always hold a special place in my heart,,,

Next up is Anzu! Silly goober!!! Please give him head pats!!!! He loves it!!! This is Astor’s only… real friend. Since Astor likes his solitude. But tolerates Anzu’s silly behavior. Utter dichotomy between them!!! <333 I haven’t decided if they’d get together or nah, but! <3333

Yeah, this guy (and Astor) both have autism (I didn’t even realize that him liking trains was an autistic stereotype… oops. Mb gang. But like. Seriously. Ywah didn’t mean anything by it. I’m autistic myself and I’m possibly pursuing physics or engineering 💪💪 I think it’s alr if I project onto a character I made 🔥🔥🙏)

Yes, he’s based on the irl dinosaur. Yes, he’s autistic, hear me out. I just put lots of things together. And he just ended up with major tism 🔥🙏

And finally, a hero I designed :) I changed her a weeee bit. But she’s mostly the same sand manipulation :) villains dislike her since she puts sand in their shoes. Her big container is full of sand and stuff. She doesn’t have a weakness other then she needs to be a bit concentrated on making her sand creations—but they’re like second nature to her because of how long she’s been a hero. She’s an antagonist only because she’s trying to take Nexus in. She sees how sweet she can be to the native cats (from a distance. Never touching them, and she never knows why, they look at the native cats, longing to pet them but always stops) so she wants to take him in and make a case for him to join the government’s hero program.

Arizona! But her hero name is Sahara yk… Yeagh…. Anyways :) I love her lots. She does mean well. But she’s also blindly faithful in the government, or will see its problems and will deflect or try to be better to make things right. But she always holds rules above anything else. Even if she cares about someone who’s breaking them, a lot, so yeah… totally not talking about the mentor and mentee relationship between her and Nexus… where she pushes her morals aside just to listen to him seldom talk about his intrepid interests.

If Nexus didn’t have those powers—in her opinion—she would’ve made an excellent leader in whatever field he’d want to pursue. And she knows he’s got something up with them—some history. And that breaks her heart a little seeing how much pure joy Nexus gets at being able to try new things, like new foods, or try out purely common things that should be normal to a kid like herself.

Very much love found families and going to the extreme for them :33

ANYWAYS!!! Those are the main 3. I have some others I’ll show. But yk. They look a wee bit different + have names labeling them and the key parts of them. I don’t think tumblr would like me dropping all their refs :,)

Actually :O hold on, their refs are here. Trust

I’m so smart for pasting them all here. Trust anyways. Those are my pookies, so sorry this took so long.. erm I like them a lot. Oh yeah, I made a comic with them for art class. Yeagh. They were mostly changed for ease of drawing but yeah. I did not want to do it but I had not wanted to do this 🚬🚬

But yeah, pookies…. Sorry you probably didn’t want this comprehensive lore about them grrr

[scaly-freaks]

The wolf den is one of my favorite books. Really changed the way I write relationships and characters.

(Your) Amara is such a lovable character. You write her with so much love and your love and care for her really shines through in the story. Her vulnerabilities and strength makes her so easy to love and genuinely relate to. She’s a uch a cool and unique character. I’m a huge Amara fan

I’m absolutely loving Alys and Amara ! They’re so weird and adorable? That scene where Alys is acting all creepy imitating aegon and Amara’s like “omg that’s so cool I want to be a witch” was kind of wholesome. I know that Alys and Larys are probably playing some bigger game, but I’m hoping that Alys could be a friend to Amara.

And poor little Jaehaerys and jaehaera!!! As much as I believe that aegon genuinely loves his children, at this point he kind of sees them as cute toys and not as actual human beings. I’m not justifying him separating Amara from Jaehaera, but I also don’t think he understands the severity of his actions - for both Amara and jaehaera - who needs her mom!

Aegon leaving his kids to the nannies was so sad. Alicent’s gone and Amara is banned from seeing jaehaera. But Amara and Jaehaerys bonding was adorable.

Aegon is being his usual self, making everyone’s life miserable because he feels rejected by someone he loves. He’s really not as smart as he thinks he is. Getting a new lover to make Amara jealous? He has tried that before and it didn’t work!! He’s just reaffirming her belief that she shouldn’t let herself love him.

Aahh thank you so much :')

I hear so many i don't read OC fics and urgh I hate OC fics they're just author self-inserts so it made me a little 'eh' about it at first. I think OCs are fucking amazing, and they may start out as author self-inserts but as they experience more of the plot, they take on a life of their own, so I really don't understand the vitriol against them. Besides, all literature is author self-insert to an extent. It is coming out of someone's brain, and you expect it not to be coloured with who they are as a person? Don't be daft. Even y/n fiction is author self-insert because they're the ones writing it.

Though I suppose I understand any objections if the OC in question is a Targaryen sister/daughter, rides three dragons, kills Alicent and Alys Rivers and Aegon, rides Aemond, makes Rhaenyra queen, and then becomes queen herself.

Not to get kinky over the Alys-Amara thing (age gap...I support this one), but I had this vivid scene in my head where she and Amara...you know, do stuff, and in the middle of it, Alys starts speaking with Aegon's voice, so it's like he's there with them. And it wreaks havoc on Amara, and she orgasms almost immediately with Alys between her legs (and Aegon's voice down there too...okay I'll stop). Anyway, I bet Amara would be the first to try and suggest Alys fucks the pair of them together, and I don't know how Aegon feels about sharing but I hope he says yes (it'd be the first time he actually sees Amara being pleasured by someone else, whereas she's seen him literally pounding Mirian).

Aegon absolutely loves his children, and I think is afraid his inactivity in regards to them will turn him into Viserys 2.0. But being too proactive is also detrimental as we're now seeing. I do headcanon that both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys grow up to be very violent people, but they actively understand their father and in an almost sociopathic way, hide the worst of themselves from him so he never suspects a thing. Everyone else suffers, but Aegon of course believes his own kids (ironically, he does turn into Viserys but just takes a different road).

"Aegon is being his usual self, making everyone’s life miserable because he feels rejected by someone he loves." I love this because yep, exactly. He can be very clever when he wants to be, but not when he's clouded by love, and the need to be loved the way he loves others. He thinks just because someone isn't crawling all over him and whimpering and blubbering the way he devolves to, that means they don't love him as much. He's not good at empathy, which is something I wrote in specifically as part of his canon character being raised as a prince. It was just a bit of fun. Of course it was, Aegon. It was fun for you, but you don't understand how it couldn't possibly be fun for someone else.

I didn't want to fall into the trap of getting Amara to "fix" him though, so she makes her own mistakes in regards to his behaviour, and then suffers/makes him suffer. She still doesn't get why he acts the way he does, but sometimes it clicks and she does what's best for herself (as she should).

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: The girls are (kinda not) fighting!! -Danny Words: 2,174 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Nothing/Sad N Stuff' -by Lizzie McAlpine

LXII: I'm Being So Normal About This

Ara's so used to not being noticed unless she wants to, that it catches her off guard when people move out of her way mumbling apologies without her having to utter a word. 

"This is my boy, Chuck!" Hedge's voice catches her attention and Ara makes her way to look at the tiny newborn the satyr is holding. 

Clarisse notices Ara the moment she's close enough and lets out a chortle, pulling her into a rough hug. "Everyone, look how tall Birdy has gotten!"

Ara blushes like crazy. Hedge places his son in her arms, she's never held anything this fragile. "He's... cute," Ara chokes, giving him a fleeting but genuine smile.

"Strategus, glad to see you're awake," Chiron appears, handing her a goblet. "Just in time for our toast." Ara stands in front of the crowd, Nico comes out of nowhere and places her gold laurel wreath on her head with a mocking smile. "Out of every tragedy," Chiron begins, "comes new strength. Today, we thank the gods for this victory. To the gods!" 

The crowd echoes that with little feeling. 

"And to new friends!"

"TO NEW FRIENDS!"

Her mentor gestures at Ara and she moves onward, carrying the confidence she gained while proving her worth in all the ways imaginable. Everyone cheers and hollers her name like viewers in a coliseum, and she would know, she fought in the best one. 

It doesn't do anything to fill the void in her chest.

Ara smiles at the demigods before her. "Thank you for fighting for what you love. Without you, I wouldn't've been able to protect this place," she raises her goblet. "What I told you last year, I repeat to our Roman family: I will be here for you, always. The future's brighter than it's ever been."

Everyone drinks to that, and Ara gulps down the content in her goblet hoping it'll take away the bittersweet taste on her tongue.

"Tomorrow, we Romans must return home. We appreciate your hospitality, especially since we almost killed you—"

"You almost got killed," Annabeth corrects playfully.

"Whatever, Chase."

The campers nudge each other and joke around. Ara is standing next to Nico, watching the scene unfold with a vague grin.

"Anyway," Frank adds. "Reyna and I agree this marks a new era of friendship between the camps."

"That's right. For hundreds of years, the gods tried to separate us to keep us from fighting. But there's a better kind of peace—cooperation."

"Are you sure your mom is a war goddess?" Piper calls from the audience.

"Yes, McLean. I still intend to fight a lot of battles. But from now on we fight together!"

Everyone cheers so loud Frank has to shut them up. "You'll all be welcome at Camp Jupiter. We've come to an agreement with Chiron and Ara: a free exchange between the camps—weekend visits, training programmes and, of course, emergency aid in times of need—"

"And parties?"

"Hear, hear!" Connor says happily. Ara notices he's got an arm around Lily's shoulders and Lily is terribly stiff but blushing and smiling. Both of them are glowing silver.

"That goes without saying. We Romans invented parties." Reyna jokes.

"Oh my gods." Ara grasps Nico's arm and whispers excitedly. "Oh my gods! Lily and Connor—"

Nico smirks. "Happened right after the battle. Lily pushed her way through looking like she was about to stab Connor, and before he even knew what was happening, Lily kissed him. It still kind of looked like she was hoping to kill him that way."

"Please, tell me I didn't—"

"The lake still awaits," Nico replies with dark joy. "I wanted to wait until you were conscious."

"Leo's right," Ara looks at him with gratitude. "You are one of my best friends."

Before Nico can react to that, Reyna pulls him forward, taking Ara and the boy by surprise. 

"We had one home," she smiles. "Now we have two."

Reyna hugs him so tightly that Ara covers her mouth waiting for an explosion... but nothing happens. 

She celebrates with the rest, then pouts. "Man, when do I get a hug?" 

Everyone gets up to leave but she whistles again, catching their attention. The girl grins wickedly. "I'd like you to take part in a tradition we Greeks love..." she stands before Lily and Connor. "And it only happens when two campers get together after years of driving their General nuts."

Lily's face gets redder and Connor's matches it with little effort. "I'm gonna kill you," the black-haired girl whispers lividly.

"I know." Ara looks at Annabeth with a huge smile on her face. "Let's take these lovebirds for a swim!"

Half of the crowd knows what's happening and the other is there to have fun. They follow Ara and her friends to the lake and watch Lily and Connor get tossed into the water unceremoniously. Ara claps loudly and then ushers the onlookers away. 

"Good job, everyone! Now go to bed! Malcolm—! Oh, thanks man," she grabs the towels he's brought for the couple.

Lily, Nico, and Connor are the only ones left. The short girl snatches her towel angrily and Connor quietly dries himself, but he's doing a terrible job of hiding how pleased he feels about all this.

"Boys, can you give us a minute?" Ara asks politely.

They hesitate. Nico frowns. "Are you gonna fight?"

"No," Ara rolls her eyes. "I just need to have a talk with my best friend... if that's okay with her?"

Lily nods curtly. Connor hangs his towel over one shoulder and takes Lily's, then pauses, unsure of how to make his exit. Ara smirks, ready to tease him endlessly.

"Oh, you want to kiss her goodnight? Just pretend like we're not here," she covers her eyes and sings loudly, turning her back on them for good measure and pulling Nico in the same direction. 

Ten seconds later, someone punches her really hard and Ara hisses, clutching her arm. "Dude! I got taller but your punches didn't stop being deadly..."

"You were so vain already, but now you've got longer legs and toned muscles? Ugh, you need to be sedated," Lily complains, crossing her arms grumpily.

Ara chuckles and stands upright, placing her hands on her hips and taking a good look at Lily—making a show of how she has to look down to see her properly. "You know, it feels like I haven't seen you in ages."

"I feel the same way."

Ara nods, a knowing smile on her face. "You have my figurine."

Lily's hand jumps to her right pocket. "How did you..."

"I saw it. You were talking to Connor on the hill," Ara points over her shoulder. "We should talk."

"Ara—"

She lifts a hand to silence her. "I'll explain. Come on."

The girls walk back to the Big House, then Ara goes to her room and searches through her closet, carefully pulling out something from the back and holding it with so much reverence it makes it seem like it will fall apart if handled otherwise.

"You recognize this?"

Lily glances between the hoodie and Ara's face speechless. "That's... how?"

"I've had it since my fourteenth birthday," Ara smiles wistfully. "Mike lent it to me and then I never gave it back..." she sighs shortly, shaking her head. "I kissed him that night."

"You what?" Lily squeaks.

"I'll explain on the way."

Most campers are calling it a day by now, but it's still not curfew, so Lily and Ara walk around without being threatened to get eaten by the harpies. Pollo approaches, strolling behind them lazily while Ara tells Lily the whole story.

"But... that means he didn't turn you down?"

"That's beside the point." They reach the campfire, always burning. "I ran away from him. It was never the same."

Ara looks at the hoodie and then passes it to Lily. Her friend stares at it and connects the dots. "It wasn't you trying to move on, it was the opposite... you couldn't deal with your unfinished business."

Ara nods in a composed manner. "When love is ignored, it rots. My feelings for Mike put me off balance for an entire year—he haunted me, and I stomped on every milestone Leo and I had because I couldn't let myself be happy knowing I'd robbed Michael of it."

"And now Leo is gone," Lily mumbles deep in thought, caressing the hoodie. "And we're back to square one."

"No, it's different." Ara presses her palm on the fabric. "I've made my peace."

"And what are we doing now?" Lily asks, knowing her friend isn't done.

"Mike's funeral rites." Pollo bumps into her and she reaches up to scratch him. "We burned a shroud for his cabin... but this is for us." Lily squeezes her hand, shaking a bit while she waits. "Michael did so much for me, and when I say a part of my heart belongs to him, I don't even say it romantically—He gave away his life for us willingly, and I didn't know how to handle it..."

Lily hugs Michael's hoodie and nods, hastily drying a tear. "He was my brother when I had no one. He never asked me to be who I wasn't and only pressured me when he knew I could be a thousand times better. People like him come... just twice in a lifetime." Lily looks at her with an intent gaze. 

The girls hold up the hoodie, lock eyes, and prepare. "What now?" Ara asks hoarsely. "Goodbye is too final and also too late, sorry is inadequate, and thank you is overdone..."

Lily tries to find the words. "My nonna used to say life lasted enough for each human to understand its value, that's why no one lives the same. I think he learned everything he had to and there was nothing left for him once that was done... Michael, I'll never forget our time together, your spirit will always tie our family."

"Mike," Ara speaks tearily, a mixture of longing and bitter peace stirring in her heart. "I'll always wonder... maybe one day I'll get to ask questions."

The girls move slowly, risking getting burned, and they place the hoodie in the fire. Ara hugs Lily sideways, leaning her head on top of the girl's. Pollo leans closer too, and the girls stroke his mane.

"Things are about to change again," Ara warns quietly.

"Nothing ever happens the same way twice," Lily responds wisely. "That's how we know we're growing."

Ara hums, leaning into her friend's hair. "You don't have to move on and leave Michael behind if you don't want to. The whole trip I yapped about him to everyone, even Leo... it is easier said than done."

Lily lets out a short teary chuckle. "Perhaps I should try to move on, Queen B... It's been a year. But I can't promise anything."

"It has been a year," Ara nods emphatically, rubbing the back of her neck. "Too many things happened. I'm not the Ara that lost her Michael... But I am the one that lost Leo," she takes a shaky breath. "My soulmate."

Lily wraps her arms around her waist loosely. "I gave him such a hard time... I knew he was harmless, I just didn't like him because he was making you laugh more than Mike and I ever did."

"Don't feel bad," Ara dries her tears. "He hated you just as much."

"Why are we involving Nico in this?"

"Because—!" The door opens abruptly and Nico faces them, looking sleep-deprived and grumpy. 

"Do you two ever stop being annoying?"

"You okay?" Jason eyes him with concern. "You look—"

"Fine," Nico snaps at him. Then he speaks in a controlled tone. "If you're looking for Hazel, she's still asleep."

Jason shakes his head. "We're looking for you. Ara called for a meeting, she has something important to share with us..."

Ara nods, looking over her shoulder. "And I need the Romans to hear it, so if we could just hurry..."

"It was strange to see them here, Camp Jupiter," Jason says with a little smile, his mind somewhere else. "Now it'll be strange not seeing them."

"Do you regret not going with them?" Nico asks.

"A little," he pushes his glasses up, Ara still doesn't get used to how he looks. "But I'll be going back and forth between the camps a lot. I have some shrines to build."

Nico frowns. "I heard the Senate plans to elect you Pontifex Maximus—that's what this is about?"

"I don't care about the title so much," Jason replies humbly. "I do care about making sure the gods are remembered. I don't want them fighting out of jealousy any more, or taking out their frustrations on demigods."

"They're gods," Nico raises a brow. "That's their nature."

"That's what I told him," Ara mumbles.

"I can try to make it better," Jason gives them a look. "I guess Leo would say I'm acting like a mechanic, doing preventative maintenance."

The mention triggers Ara into rambling. "So you'll definitely agree with what I have to say at today's meeting! I'm telling you—"

"Ara!" Will calls over. 

Nico's soul light flashes so fast, that she doesn't get to see its color, but the girl is certain that's what she saw. 

"The group leaves in thirty minutes!"

"Going!" Ara turns to the boys. "Please be on my side?"

Jason and Nico share a look. "Why us?"

Ara turns around pouting, making her way to the Big House with both boys following her tail. "Everyone else will claim I'm biased."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes