#back on my “let the women be insane about their mates too” bullshit

[rosanna-writer]

WIP Wednesday

So uhhhh...I completely forgot I wrote 1k words of an "Elain was having visions of a future with Lucien even as a human" AU a while back?

When the King of Hybern's men brought her into the throne room, Elain's eyes were so overfull of tears that at first, all she saw of the male was a blur of red. The king was saying something she probably should have paid attention to, but all Elain could hear was a quiet mechanical whirring from her dreams. It was him. The heartbreak was strong enough to cut through Elain's panic. Perhaps she'd been stupid and naive to think that those dreams had been anything other than a faerie's attempt at luring her over the Wall. If Feyre's mate could bend wills and crush minds without breaking a sweat…who knew what this one was capable of? There was more conversation, but Elain's mind was reeling too much to follow any of it. But there—the sound of his voice as he said, "She sold out—she sold out Feyre’s family. To you." She'd never heard him speak before. Just the sound of it heated her blood. And for some reason Elain didn't understand, some monstrous part of her railed at the sound of the word "she" on his lips. She was bound and gagged because he'd probably betrayed her, yet the thought of him even speaking about another woman was enough to send her into a rage. Maybe she'd finally lost touch with reality.

[shurislover]

Baby Mama Drama

Letitia Wright x Y/N ( Black Fem Reader )

Summary :

Imagine being in a relationship with the one and only Letitia Wright… Being married for 5 years and having a child together. Sounds like a dream right ? Wrong ! Cheating , Lying , Arguing was all that could happen in this relationship, so you took it upon yourself to file for divorce and joint custody of your now 5 yr old daughter.

Warnings : Angst ? Cursing

“ Do I have to go ?” - your daughter asked

“ Yes Aria , you know it’s what the court ordered , and plus she wants to see you today “- you sighed as you tied her shoes

Aria rarely liked going to her “ Mother’s“ house, it was never fun. Letitia would always shit talk you , talk about how the girl she’s with now is much better etc. You never understood why she did what she did when shes the reason you both spilt up.

She’s cheated on you countless times, you’d ask her about it and it would lead to arguing or sex. Don’t get me wrong the sex was phenomenal you honestly still think about it till this day, but besides that… this was something you couldn’t handle. The cheating….. the lying…., the arguing was doing nothing but destroying you

“ Why does she want to see me, she didn’t care about me before ?” Aria tilted her head

Letitia didn’t put very much effort into caring about Aria until the media was on her ass.

“ Where’s your daughter “

“ We always see Y/N with your baby “

“ Are you even in your child’s life “

flashback

“ Bro can you let the media know i’m good to my child ?” Letitia sighed on the phone

“ Why would I lie for you ? You rarely take time out your day to see her. At this point i could’ve filed for sole custody “ I snapped back

“ Why didn’t you ? Media out here thinking i’m some shit parent when i’m not. I send you money to get her whatever she wants. I speak to her on the phone. I always get my baby anything she asks for. She wants it I give it her.

“ see that’s the problem, all this I buy her this I buy her that is bullshit Letitia. You need to spend time with your child. When Aria asks for you how the fuck am i supposed to tell my child “ oh baby i’m sorry your mother is too busy at clubs and kissing other women “ You snapped back

Don’t play with me Y/N , I take care of Aria. These interviewers on my ass about you and Aria, fans are on my ass about Aria. I love Aria so I suggest you let them know I care about her

YOU can tell them. You know what is insane your cast mates and your little girlfriend Eva care more about Aria than you do. I think that’s a damn shame Letitia.

flashback over

You hear your doorbell ring and sighed as you walked toward the door

“ baby your mother is here grab your bag” - you opened the door and met with your ex lover

“ is she ready ?” Letitia questioned as she walked inside

You followed her back into your kitchen

“ she’s getting her things “

“ Why you are you acting so cold to me , you really think this is a good look with Aria here “ - Letitia questioned

“ Don’t start this shit I know you talk shit about me at your home. Aria hears and sees everything and comes home and tells me. Maybe be more cautious of what you say about me“ - You answered back

Letitia rolled her eyes

She knew you were not dealing with her crap today.

“ Be glad i’m here to get my child “ - Letitia groaned

“ Glad ?? Nah she’s your responsibility too “ Letitia “ it takes two to make a baby. I didn’t do this shit by myself. You want the media off your ass so act like a good mother. Aria is 5 years old always worrying if she’s a mistake or if she’s the reason we don’t love each other anymore, and as her Mom i have to sit and reassure her that none of this is her fault meanwhile I’m here on the verge of another mental breakdown. This shit is hard and you don’t make it easy for me. You make it so hard for me Letitia you really do. During this whole fucking break up there’s been times I asked myself if i wanted to be here anymore but I stayed strong for that little girl because she atleast deserves someone who cares about her “

You felt hot tears run down your face, you haven’t been able to express your feelings to anyone because you’ve been in hiding and pushed everyone away.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t even realize Letitia pulled you into a hug

“ I’m sorry “

Those were two words you’ve been waiting years to hear

“ Im sorry. I’ve been a shit wife & ex wife. I’ve been a shit mother. You nor Aria deserve this. I’ve treated you wrong and I know you didn’t deserve any of that. You’ve always shown me what love is , you’ve opened my eyes to so many new things. Aria does deserve loving parents and I’m glad she has you. Y/N you’re the most amazing mother Aria could have. I was so caught up with myself and trying to satisfy my needs I didn’t think about you or how this might affect you. I’m sorry Y/N . I’m so sorry. “- Letitia spoke as she rubbed your back and held you tightly

“ I’ve started up therapy to work on my self, I want to become a more active parent in Arias life. I want to become active in your life again only if you let me, whether we stay friends or whatever. You both deserve the world and I want to give it to you both”

“ therapy “ you whispered

Letitia smiled a little

“ Yes , therapy. I know you’ve been trying to get me to go for months and I finally started going. I’ve given up drinking. 2 weeks sober. I’m learning to control my anger. I’ve blocked nearly every person I’ve had one night stands with, cheated with. I even broke it off with Eva”

“ You broke up with Eva ? Why “ - You asked

“ I only got with her to make you upset. It’s better for us to stay good friends that’s all “ - Letitia pulled back

You sighed and stared at her

“ I want you in Arias life I really do, but you have to be there for her. Not just showering her with gifts. I mean being there for her. Mentally , Emotionally, Physically. She needs to know you truly love her and will always be there for her. If she calls you one day crying cause she’s upset you need to comfort her not just buy her something. Me ? it’s gonna take a while but i wouldn’t mind you in my life again. I think it would be good not only for us but for Aria.“ - You spoke

“ I will do anything it takes to keep you guys with me forever and always. “

Letitia kissed your forehead and smiled

“ Ready Princess ?“

“ Yes mom “ - Aria smiled

Aria ran up to you and gave you the tightest hug

“ I love you baby and be good for your mother okay? Remember i’m only a call away if anything “

“ I love you too “ - Aria whispered

You watched as they both left hand in hand

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad letting Letitia back into your life……

———————————————————————-

this is my first story on here so please bare with me. i used to write on wattpad but stopped lol. i hope you guys liked this one and if you have any tips to become better PLEASE let me know.

[edie-k]

Greener Pastures (Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, PG-13)

Title: Greener Pastures

Pairing: Lavender Brown/Mystery Character, Romione, Hinny, Deamus, Past Lavender/Ron, Past Lavender/Seamus

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: At Harry and Ginny's engagement party, Lavender bemoans her single status to a mystery man.

Author's Note: Well, here's an obscure ship for you. Thanks to @adenei for her feedback and kind words!

*************

“I think that proves that for all the complaining I’ve done, Harry, I mean it when I say you are the only one I thought was good enough for my sister,” Ron said from the front of the room, to a chorus of laughter. “So let’s raise a glass to the newly engaged couple!”

From her seat at the bar, Lavender made a face and threw back the remaining contents of her tumblr. Parvati, who was seated next to her, joined the crowd in applauding and cheering Harry and Ginny.

Click below to read more or read at AO3

“That was a nice speech,” commented Parvati.

“Oh, just the best,” muttered Lavender, trying to catch the bartender’s eye.

Parvati shook her head. “I just spotted Adam’s sister. I wanted to ask her about what the expectations are for dress code and stuff at his grandmother’s. All Adam said when I asked him was ‘Whatever’s fine.’ We’re going abroad to meet an entire side of your family I have never met in all the time we’ve been together and you’re telling me whatever is fine.”

“Mmm hmm,” Lavender said, still trying to signal for a drink.

“Are you going to be okay if I-”

“Yes, yes,” said Lavender, sighing. “I’m fine. Sorry if I’m being a drag. Just… that news earlier and then all this… happiness. Go get the dish from Mara so we can go shopping tomorrow.”

Parvati squeezed her friend’s arm before hopping off the stool and wading through the crowd to find Mara. The bartender finally made his way over to her and began to mix her another drink without a word.

At least Adam was out of town on business for the weekend so Lavender didn’t have to third wheel with her best friend and her boyfriend. Because that would have been the only thing more depressing than going to an engagement party with your platonic best friend.

The bartender nudged the glass back to her and she nodded her head in thanks as he made his way back down the bar.

“Is this seat taken?”

Lavender glanced up and met the gaze of a man she’d never seen before.

“Uh, no, be my guest,” she said. “Although be warned that I am shitty company.”

The man chuckled as he sat down on the stool. “I highly doubt that but I’m game to find out.”

Lavender looked at him again. She didn’t recognize him, which was shocking because even though the venue was full, Lavender had thought she would know everyone here. Harry and Ginny were obviously incredibly popular so they had kept tight controls on who was included on the guest list.

The man signaled for the bartender and Lavender took the opportunity to give him a once over. The guy was huge - not in an overweight or bodybuilder type way. He was just tall and solid. Other than her first boyfriend, her preference was tall guys. She was 5”8’ herself and preferred to wear heels when she could so aesthetically, it was nice for her companion to have some height. Nice eyes, cute face. He had dark blond hair and was dressed in a dark blue Muggle button down shirt and black trousers with no robes. Since the war had ended, Muggle style had become popular with the wizards in her age group. Harry, who was raised by Muggles, was always more comfortable in that style of clothing and Ron, who she knew was dressed primarily by Hermione and Hermione’s mum, followed suit. And whatever that little Trio did, everyone else did and for Merlin’s sake, Ron Weasley was now a fucking fashion icon. Lavender took a big swig of her drink.

“It’s a nice party,” said the man. Lavender nodded as the bartender approached. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

The bartender made another drink before placing it in front of the man. He went to reach for his pocket when Lavender noticed a look of panic cross his face. Before she could say anything, the bartender waved him away. “Mr. Potter has the tab covered tonight.”

“Well,” he said, his face relaxed again. He turned back to Lavender. “Should we follow Red’s instructions and toast the happy couple?” The two clinked glasses. “It was a nice speech.”

Lavender snorted.

“You disagree?”

“I’d have thought his wife wrote it for him but there was too much swearing for her to have had a hand,” Lavender said. Then she wiped the palms of her hands down her face. “Ugh, ignore me. It actually was a very touching and funny speech. I’m just in an ugly mood and I have a bit of a history with Ron so I’m being mean for no reason.”

“You dated him?” the man guessed. She nodded. “Huh, he said in the speech that he’d loved his wife since he was 13.”

“And I dated him when we were 16 so…”

“Hence the ugliness,” finished the man.

“Hence the ugliness,” Lavender repeated. “I’m over it, really. Hermione and I shared a room for six years and are better friends now than we ever were at school. As for Ron, that was just some stupid school kid bullshit on both our parts. It’s more that I didn’t realize that my only opportunity to find love was going to be at Hogwarts. If I had known that, I’d have made better choices or… maybe taken Arithmancy to secure a better paying job to support my lonely life.”

“What do you mean?” the man asked.

“Everyone I know, they’re married or engaged or about to be engaged to the person that they dated at Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny dated at school, Neville and Hannah somehow started to date during our last year during the war. My best friend Parvati and her boyfriend dated our sixth year at Hogwarts and then he fled with his Muggle family overseas but they started right back up again when he came back to England. See that girl over there, the pregnant one?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Parvati’s sister. That’s her second kid cooking. She’s married to her prefect partner, Anthony. I guess technically, Ron and Hermione didn’t date at Hogwarts but -”

“He’s loved her since he was 13,” the man said amused.

“Yeah. I’m the only one that couldn’t make it out with a relationship intact.” she moaned, taking another drink.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

Lavender took another long drink and contemplated his statement. “You know what? You’re right. Ginny, she also had a relationship that didn’t work out. Do you see that tall bloke over in the corner that she’s talking to?”

The man glanced in the direction Lavender was referring to. “Uh, yeah.”

“That’s Dean. He was the guy that Ginny dated before Harry. Now, do you see that cute little Irishman standing next to Dean?”

The man nodded.

“That’s Seamus. He was my ex-boyfriend before Ron. And now he’s Dean’s husband. Met in school, by the way.”

“Oh,” said the man, taken aback.

Lavender narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a problem with that? Because despite the fact that Seamus is just one more example of my inability to keep a boyfriend, I will defend those men and their amazing relationship to the death from any bigot that threatens it.”

“No, no!” the man sputtered. “I’m just… I went to an all-boys school and I knew gay guys but they all hid it and I’m just not used to people being open about it. It’s fine - more than fine. Good for them! I mean, hey, they found each other and are leaving more beautiful women for the rest of us, right?”

“Merlin, I wish I could find a beautiful woman,” Lavender moaned, burying her face in her hands. The bartender seemed to take this as a signal that she needed another drink and provided her with a refill.

“Oh, are you… interested in women?” she heard him ask.

“No,” she moaned. “You must think I’m insane.” Lavender put both her hands on the man’s arm that was closest to her. “I promise that I am not hung up on some school romance from five years ago. It’s just that, if you knew Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts… did you know Seamus or Ron at Hogwarts?”

The man shook his head.

“Okay, so if you knew them, you would know that they were both totally immature prats. After I broke up with Seamus, I thought he was the worst boyfriend ever. He was always running off to spend time with his mates, talking about Quidditch, no interest in spending time with me, dumb jokes. But then, then I dated Ron, who was even worse than him. The only thing he wanted to do with me was snog and I think that was some weird power move with Hermione or his sister… who knows. I have to be way more drunk to psychoanalyze Ron Weasley. Anyway, the last month we were together, he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he wanted to ditch me for Hermione but was just too much of a coward. And yet somehow, both of those idiots ended up married before me! And it’s not like they got married to some random person that they knocked up after a one night stand. Ron eloped with his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was in love with all through school and the entire time we were dating and Seamus… oh for Godric’s sake.”

Lavender paused in her tirade for a moment. “Seamus also married his wonderful, talented, brilliant best friend that he was probably in love with all through school AND the entire time we were dating. How am I just realizing that?” Lavender groaned, banging her head on the bar.

“Can wizards knock up other wizards?” asked the man. Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter.

“Oh, thank you for that,” she giggled. “I was spiralling.”

“Uh, yeah, no worries,” said the man, shifting in his seat.

“It’s just that this dating stuff is really hard. The wizarding world is so small, you know? I think it’s why everyone locks in with their soulmate at school, ” Lavender commiserated.

“Have you ever considered dating like, outside the wizarding world?” the man asked.

Lavender shook her head. “How could I? It’s tough enough here. After all the Prophet spotlights on battle injuries and such, everyone knows how I got all these awful scars on my face but it still takes a certain type of man to look past them. And I’m sure there are Muggles that aren't shallow about them either but they would ask how I got them. How would I explain them to a Muggle? I can’t just say ‘Oh during a war at my school, a werewolf tried to rip me to shreds. But don’t worry, I’m not a werewolf although I have some side effects from it.’ They’d think I was insane.”

“Uh, yeah, that does sound a bit… daunting,” the man admitted, looking a bit pale.

“I mean, I’m still a catch. I’m funny, I have a great rack, I make excellent scones, and I’m amazing in bed.” At that comment, she heard the man next to her choke a little and she stifled a smile to continue on. “And even if I could get away with not explaining it to a man, once I meet his family, there’s no way. In my experience, mothers are always trying to find a reason to hate the woman that’s dating their special baby boy. I can’t imagine a Muggle mother taking very kindly to a literal witch with werewolf scars.”

“Yes,” sighed the man before giving a little chuckle. “I can certainly see that. And with all of the, you know, war stuff, I can see where you wish you had a school sweetheart.”

Lavender shook her head and drained the rest of her drink. “Seamus and Ron are just easy targets. I really am not hung up on them. This is about Don.”

“Who’s Don?”

“Don is my last boyfriend. We dated exclusively for eight months and he was so fun and thoughtful and generous. But he never said I love you. He kept telling me that he was too young to settle down and, I believed that he thought that. I really did. So we split in December because we wanted different things.”

“Ah,” said the man. “Seems sensible.”

“And then this morning, I see it in The Daily Prophet.”

“See what?”

“His engagement announcement,” she wailed, throwing herself on the bar again and almost upsetting her glass.

The man patted her on the shoulder. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how long they’ve been dating?” Lavender asked.

“Eight months?” ventured the man.

“FIVE!” Lavender cried.

“Maybe he knocked her up?” suggested the man.

Lavender looked up at him and burst into laughter again. “Merlin, you’re funny. Why am I whinging about all these dolts I’ve surrounded myself with when I should get to know you better?”

“Yeah?” said the man with a grin.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, if you want-”

“Of course,” he interrupted. “A funny, beautiful woman wants to get to know me better - the answer is always yes. I do need a refill. Do you want one? You’re not driving home, are you?”

Lavender giggled.

The man shook his head and looked embarrassed. “Oh, right, you wouldn’t be driving. You would uh - ”

“You must be a Muggle born. Do- I mean, I’ve heard others say that before. Those habits die hard.”

“Actually,” the man took a deep breath. “I’m a Muggle.”

Lavender’s jaw dropped. “How the fuck does a Muggle get invited to the engagement party of the Chosen One and a pureblood Quidditch player?”

“Well, Harry’s my cousin,” the man said. “My name’s Dudley.”

***************

“Do you see that over there?” asked Hermione, nudging Ron. He turned away from his conversation with Neville and Charlie to see what his wife was gesturing to across the room.

“Is that Dudley Dursley chatting up Lavender?” Ron asked, as his eyes landed on the sight before him.

“It appears to be,” said Hermione. “Merlin, they are really flirting. Should we go over there and say something? A warning or...?”

“Right,” said Ron. “Absolutely we should. Which one of them are we warning?”

[jilyesplz]

Hi, sorry for what is most likely a very weird ask 😢 but I've never read TLAT since physically I don't have the circumstances to commit to such a long abandoned and unresolved fic, but i love all your stories and writing so I read your TLAT fics too! I loved them, especially the fluff dribbles because you give them such delicious dynamic 😍. I read the first chapter of Potter and Evans too and I think I understood most of it even without knowing the backstory, but I have one question if it's OK? I know this must be selfish of me but could you tell me what's the deal with James and Carlotta? Was she the prettiest girl in school? Did he really love her and then she dumped him?! 😱

Hi! First of all thank you so much for reading my stories, especially the continuation when you haven’t read the OG? :o I’m honored! This ask is not selfish at all, although I do really, really, really recommend reading TLAT! It genuinely is such a beautiful work of art. With that said...spoilers are definitely available, so I don’t ~think~ it’s evil of me to answer this?? i honestly feel kinda guilty abt this lmao but...below the cut!

Hoo mama. Strap in for this fuckin ride. (This got unbelievably long so TL/DR at bottom lmao, but a lot of it is actually relevant to P&E)

First off, yes, Carlotta Meloni is the prettiest girl in school. That is her main character trait. Her main personality trait is knowing it. 

We....hate her with the fire of a thousand suns. Everything���s fine lmao.

So in July before 7th year, James and Lily almost kiss. It’s...wow. Just...WOW. But Lil is drunk and scared of her own feelings, so she calls it off at the last second, which James takes as 'nothing is ever going to happen between us.’ Then he pops off to his beach house as The Rich are wont to do. Carlotta is there, she flirts, he flirts back, she kisses him, he kisses her back, she asks him out, he says (Lily will never love me so) yes.

MEANWHILE, Carlotta’s best (only) friend Shelley Mumps has been in love with James since 462 BC, which Carlotta knows, but Shelley isn’t pretty and he barely knows she exists. It’s very high school. (TLAT starts with its main characters as very immature teenagers, and they grow a TON and become these lovely, insane, completely fantastic people, and then this plotline comes along to be like But Lest You Forget, Wow Are They In Fucking High School. It hurts. Jules is an evil genius.) Shelley hears that Carlotta is dating James, is furious at the betrayal, so she gets a tan (and a weight loss potion and much sluttier clothes) and starts trying to sabotage James’s relationship. 

Important background here: Pre-7th year, Carlotta was pretty universally despised by Hogwarts’s female population for shagging all of their boyfriends. So as soon as Shelley starts talking shit, a slow-motion school-wide catfight breaks out...which Mundungus Fletcher decides to monetize. Dung starts taking bets from the student population on whether James will dump Carlotta for Shelley. 

Ew. 

But again: high school. 1970s. James wants to shut it down, Carlotta says don’t because she prides herself on not caring what other people think (which James does too, but he understands that this is gross and awful. Car doesn’t care). Betting turns into voting on whether James “should” dump Carlotta for Shelley. What the fuck this actually means is left intentionally vague, and it of course becomes a popularity/fuckability contest. 

Up to now, Carlotta hasn’t really done anything wrong in this story except (debatably) date her BFF’s crush. That’s about to change. 

James wants to end the voting. Carlotta again says don’t, now because (Jesus Fucking Christ, get ready for this one) she has made a secret bet with Shelley: if Car wins, Shelley will leave them alone. If Shelley wins, Carlotta will break it off with James. 

Quick note: the whole time, James essentially lets Carlotta make the decisions, acting as if the women are the wronged parties, which, yes, the school is doing a super shitty and sexist thing. But if the roles were flipped and a girl were in James’s situation, we would feel AWFUL for her. I just think it’s important that the school is doing a really horrible thing to James too, and the fact that he’s the James Potter, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Universally Beloved Most Popular Bloke in School doesn’t change that. Just because he acts unaffected doesn’t mean he is. James Potter is human. And God, what a human. <3

SOMEONE GIVE THIS BOY A HUG.

Anyway. Vote’s coming up. James rigs it for Carlotta to get everyone to leave them alone. The Marauders, without telling James, rig it for Shelley (because they hate Carlotta for a long list of reasons, and they love Lily, and they know Lily fancies James) (oh, yeah! Lily realized she fancied James on the platform back to school, right before finding out he was with Carlotta. Quite a gut punch). 

Carlotta...fucking rigs it...for Shelley. 

Fucking.

I cannot. 

I cannot.

Twat. 

In her defense: James is in L* with Lily, and it would be really, really hard to be his girlfriend. Also, she misses her BFF.

Not in her defense: Literally every decision she makes in this process!!! Talk to him you idiot bitch.

So then Car confesses rigging the vote to Lily and they have a heart to heart (well, more of alternating rants. They’re not mates). L says Car should tell him, but doesn’t tell him herself because she’s Lily, and because she’s worried she would be telling him because she wants him rather than because he really should know...really, she doesn’t tell him because she’s Lily. Car initially doesn’t tell him, they almost kinda get back together. She commits her greatest crime here: once upon a time, Lily told Carlotta and Shelley all the “little things” about James that she’d noticed...it’s one of the story’s first ‘oh fuck, L REALLY likes J’ moments, but way before Lily has come to terms w that. Carlotta....then uses....Lily’s little things speech....to convince J to get back together with her. Dude, she’s worse than Umbridge. But then she changes her mind because Lily has made her feel guilty so she confesses, and they break up.

Wowza. Sorry for the fucking novel. I have...a lot...of feelings.

TL/DR: J started dating Carlotta after L rejected him, while still v much in L*ve with L but trying to deny it. Lots of high school bullshit happened, ending in a school-wide vote about whether J should dump Carlotta for her ex-BFF Shelley who also fancies him. Ew, David. Carlotta and Shelley make a secret deal that Carlotta will dump J if she loses, then Carlotta rigs the vote so she’ll lose. She loses, tells him about the bet and he’s like ‘OK I’m done with you.’ She then changes her mind, tries to get him back, but Lil’s goodness guilts her into telling him the truth about the bet and they break up. So to your questions...yes, no, yes and no. Lil thought maybe he loved Car, and in Potter and Evans, she now thinks he does because she dramatically misinterpreted what Libby was saying—teasing James about how unsuccessful his attempts at moving on were—as bro-y congratulations/teasing for how fast he found a rebound.

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

pinky and the brain - s1e6: brainania

i’m running on like the barest dregs of energy let’s fucking do this leeroy jenkins

episode summary: brain needs to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he needs a lot of money to build a Very Big Tumbly Drier. he decides the best way to do this is to.... invent a country and scam the us out of a foreign aid cheque.

hm.

the rundown:

it’s acme labs!

there it is.

as we zoom in a little, we hear pinky laughing maniacally at the very mention of tom ruegger, while a couple of women are dead on the floor.

hm.

SPEAK TO ME, PHYLLIS, SPEAK. as it turns out, things aren’t quite as dire as previously thought, as pinky affirms that brain looks “simply fetching.”

narf.

“these are the only garments i could obtain. and besides, you are no helen of troy yourself.”

ignoring the fact that he chose to wear the hat and the gloves as well, brain moves onto explaining his latest plan--

but not before giving pinky a static-y poke for his crimes.

“to generate global static cling, we shall construct a massive clothes dryer.”

BEHOLD.

THE TITANOCYCLE FOUR THOUSAND, WITH THREE SPEEDS AND AUTOMATIC WRINKLEGUARD. this will surely allow brain to.... trap everyone in their clothes via static cling and. uh. allow him to seize power...... somehow......... by putting everyone in a really big tumbledryer?????

it costs fourteen billion dollars.

“oh, i have it!”

“we build a huge tooth, leave it under a huge pillow, and then fairies will leave us lots of money!”

brain tells pinky to stop eating paint chips. it’s a well deserved response to pinky’s insane, bullshit idea, not nearly as dignified and scientific as Everyone Goes In The Big Tumbly Dryer By Brain Age Two And A Half.

as he heads off to ponder an Equally Sensible idea to get a lot of money, pinky assures brain that he will not “be a bother.”

“brain.”

“if i ate a hundred jelly rolls, would i explode?”

i don’t know why pinky is sticking his ass out. maybe that’s where the jelly rolls go, in the sense that whenever i used to eat cakes around my dad he’d often say something like “a minute on the lips is a lifetime on the hips”. (also? pinky is british, so what he actually means is jelly rolls, and that sounds disgusting.)

so anyway brain gives him a piece of paper and tells him to try origami.

BUT WAIT.

“pinky! are you pondering what i’m pondering?” “i think so brain, but why the bitch stacey foreign aid office is giving chad all the money while i’ve always been a nice guy and showed her a basic level of human respect is beyond me. narf.”

no i’m sorry. he didn’t say that. pinky respects women. also apologies to the residents of the actual country of chad. big ups to all of you. lol. (he actually says “but pantyhose are so uncomfortable in the summertime”, which is wild, considering this episode was aired in november.)

brain doesn’t want to wear the pantyhose.

well, maybe he does, but not right now. instead, he suggests that they form a bogus nation and demand reparations from the united states, which is, of course, easier, saner, and far less work than Really Big Tooth. as he folds the Chad Newspaper into a vague key shape (the Virgin Tabloid never had a chance) pinky points out that, uh

you can’t just invent a country, brain. “won’t people know we’re not a real country?”

“the average american’s grasp of geography is pitiful. they’ll think we’re part of the former soviet union.”

“or canada.”

so they pick a random, tiny island on the label of a Science Chemical and set off on the boat to Being A Coloniser Town.

a long sea voyage awaits us! and at the end, we shall found a nation! and that nation shall be called!

BRAINANIA.

“can’t we call it pinkyland? or eric?”

“don’t vex me, pinky, or i shall turn on you.”

so they get on the S.S FATTY LUMPKIN and bugger off to Island X.

“i haven’t seen anybody yet, brain. i guess we’re alone here.”

“excellent, pinky. it’s time to flesh out the terrain.”

“that volcano will be mount brain.”*

“this clearing will be brain flats,”

“and that water over there--”

“very well.”

“the fjord of pinky.”

and they hoist their adorable, homemade flag, while pinky doots them a little themetune.

(*perhaps when they’re not in the middle of the jungle.)

how lovely!

less lovely.

significantly less lovely. still, it got brain to make the little O:O face, so it’s not all bad.

as the mice are scooped up onto a sphere and presented in front of this presumably-maori gentleman, brain decides to put his White Gay From Los Angeles skills to the test, and reassures pinky that he will communicate with them in the Primitive Argot Of The South Seas.

ME NUMBER ONE FELLA. OTHER FELLA NUMBER TEN. CATCHY ALL SAME SAME. YOU SAVVY?

“good day, mate. d’you speak english?”

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

anyway apparently this has happened often enough that these guys learnt english. from all the times it happened. and then they ate the guy they learnt english from and shrunk his head, but to be honest, i don’t blame them.

this is alan. “hello, alan.” says pinky.

“i would be pinky! and this is prime minister brain.”

“who is IN CHARGE OF THIS ISLAND AND EVERYTHING YOU SEEEE.”

“narf.”

sneaky bastard knows what he’s doing.

alan isn’t too happy with that, because the island belongs to the volcano god, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND HAAARM AND WHAT ALL ELSE.

(i can find no evidence that whanganui is actually a god, as opposed to just A Bit Of New Zealand. if they are, i’m more than happy to go back and edit this as would be religiously considerate.)

this is the face of a man who knows he has fucked up.

still, brain decides yet again that his pride comes before any kind of rational decision, so he decides to tell them that whanganui sent him to the island to rule over them,

as proven by his fire powers.

(ETA: i missed this last time. why is brain carrying a lighter around? that episode isn’t for a good few more seasons yet.)

alan is unimpressed.

I CAN TRAP YOUR SOULS INSIDE THIS GLASS

“i can make bubbles with my spit!”

apparently this is a real talent on the island. who’d have thought. (they do not believe it to be a sign of god. it’s just really cool.)

so brain gets a hand building brainania.

it has everything one could possibly need.

actually pretty much as soon as the airport and the gift shop are built, brain heads to washington, so evidently he holds the strong opinion that this is everything a country could possibly need. odd. still, maybe he plans on adding stuff once he becomes world ruler, or whatever.

so with that established, The Most Exalted ned limpopo gets out of the car. hassan lembeck is also here. he is attempting to make an origami bird out of a newspaper.

no bird for you, mr lembeck. no bird for you.

they wander off to go and see mr bisck, who is currently playing with a little toy plane.

he reacts to the news that the prime minister of brainania is here to see him with “oh great, more moochers,”

and does not seem to take kindly to having tiny mice on his desk, even if they are reasonably exalted.

though a quick database search tells him said mice have no record of financial trouble, or, indeed, a credit rating, so. he tells them to go away.

“go away.”

okay. hassan doesn’t take this well.

as Exalted Ned Limpopo gently tries to persuade mr bisck that he could “harm negotations” between brainania and the us (a lot more politely than he usually explains things to people, may i add) hassan chimes in with a haven’t you people ever heard of bold claim that brainania, if slighted, will INVADE YOUR LANDS

GO BOOM BOOM BOOM

AND MAKE YOU ALL OUR PATHETIC SLAAAAAAAAAAAAVES.

mr bisck does not like this idea, it seems.

as he rushes off to tell the UN, brain informs pinky that he has

“just created an international incident.”

“oh, thank you, brain.”

“in the words of the immortal yogi bear, this is dejavu all over again.”

so the boys turn up on PUNCHLINE, WITH FRED FLUBBLE.

there he is. “perhaps you gentlemen would care to climb up on the desk?”

they make it, just about.

and sing a fun little song about brainania’s war victories, i guess.

WE WILL FIGHT AND NEVER QUIT

FIND ME A ROOFTOP AND I WILL SPIT. NARF

this is not well recieved by the us military.

unfortunately, as the US press secretary points out, the us cannot go to war with a country it can’t find,

(wuss.)

so instead the mice are invited to dinner at the white house.

“in a few short hours, pinky, we shall have our foreign aid loan, and then the world!”

“birdy birdy birdy! narf!”

“i sense much of this historic moment is lost on you.”

at the white house, a very bored looking individual introduces The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo (feat. hassan lembeck), and bill clinton shakes his hand.

“me number one fella. other fellas number ten. catchy all same same. you savvy?”

“i speak fluent english.”

“eyyyy. haha. sure you do.”

“all brainania ever wanted from the US was friendship. friendship, and fourteen billion dollars and fifty nine cents. the friendship i will treasure. the money i will spend on polo ponies and cruise missiles.”

brain has a brief discussion with hilary clinton over the advantages of strontium ninety versus uranium two-thirty-eight,

bill clinton pulls this face and tells them it Sounds Smart,

and the mice bounce merrily back to mr bisck to get their foreign aid check.

“you better not lose it, buster!!! i just erased your records!! you won’t get another one from me!!!!”

HA.

“one should be enough. thanks and farewell, “

“you niggling bureaucrat.”

conclusion:

upon returning back to brainania, The Most Exalted Ned Limpopo finds a letter from alan addressed to him. it’s also mouse sized, which is adorable. apparently, whanganui,

WHO PROTECTS US FROM EVIL AND WHAT ALL ELSE

is “blinking mad”, and the volcano is going to explode.

brain, obviously, does not believe in whanganui, and is mostly just mad that he’s lost his workforce. still, as pinky points out,

“at least we've still got brainania!”

“i sense life has taken another sardonic twist.”

still, they do, barely, have enough time to reach the shoreline and start swimming away from the imminently exploding volcano. perhaps it should have been, yknow, a pretty decent sign that the natives cleared out. historically, people who live in these places tend to know about them, but what of that when brain is number one guy same same you savvy.

🙄

anyway the karmatic response to all of that previous racism is that a tidal wave sweeps them back onto the volcano,

which then blasts them into space.

(okay not literally space. but they do end up on a little raft in the middle of the ocean. don’t ask me where the raft came from. i have no idea.)

oof.

“mother nature has slammed her unmerciful fist on our fair isle, pinky.”

“do you know what this means?”

“birdy birdy birdy!!!!”

brain does not appreciate Birdy Birdy Birdy.

“blast it, pinky!”

“i said, do you know what this means!!”

“it means you just ripped up our foreign aid cheque.”

one should be enough, huh?

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 13

like, i don’t know. maybe pinky shouldn’t have been making oragami birds out of the foreign aid cheque. but, while silly, it’s not like it did any harm. brain.... brain just needs to chill.

“well, aren’t you the tiniest foreigners i’ve had in here all morning. i’m mr appleby, can i help you?”

“yes. we would like to have relations with you. and steal some milk duds.”

“we wish to establish diplomatic relations with the us. i am the prime minister, and this is my minister of finance.”

“brainania--? oh, i remember you. you used to be a.... suburb of prague.”

“can you prove you’re a nation?”

“yes! we have postcards.”

“that’s the fjord of pinky.”

“you foreign folk sure have your own.... queer little ways.”

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

-

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

-

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.

[midas-or-khaos]

Spirit, chapter 2

Ughhhhhhhh...waking up is shit. Ice sat in place for his heart, but waking up to these covers is amazing; so soft, like lamb wool or something and it’s all so WARM, like a 360 blanket draining away the frost in his marrow. Whatever was causing that gentle swaying was a life saver. Nice, gentle, swaying...

...Wait. Beds don’t rock, something’s happened. Ohhhhhhhh shit he fainted yesterday hadn’t he? Who (with the exception of trainee surgeons and Victorian women in novels) faints?

People who meet things that don’t exist apparently, ‘cause last time anyone checked giants don’t fucking exist! SOD IT! Ok, calm down, level head, this isn’t the time to go crazy ‘cause otherwise he’s fucked. Just breathe and think it through, what happened? He fainted for the first time in his life, and is now in the possession of whoever found him. Bright side, he was now warm and healing his busted feet, so if a chance to escape occurred, the odds were more stacked in his favour. His head rattled, was it all against him, or was his head pain something else? Concentrate. Other side, the giants could pull him out of whatever cranny they’d stuffed him into at any point and crush him. One option then, he had to try and escape unnoticed before anything happened.

Ok what was the environment Bill was working with? Through the fuzzy walls, the muttering from before was still going on (just quite a bit louder, though not painfully). The language used wasn’t anything recognisable, even the sounds seemed completely left field with the occasional use of whistling on certain words. No ability to communicate, great. Made sense now why whoever shouted back when he called out just said ‘argh’. Bill couldn’t distract them with bullshitting if he was spotted, so that meant extra stealth. He could do that, but how? They’re awake and aware so they’ll notice him moving around wherever he was. Especially if he was close to the body of whichever giant he was attached to. No knife though, so he couldn’t make a hole and slip out. He’d have to force his way out the top, but take it slow.

Lightly patting around in the dark, the smooth wool came to a dip above his head. There’s the bitch. Trying with a hand first, a few fingers managed to slip through the sphincter. Chattering he hadn’t noticed had been there started up at at a whole new level. Chilly, ok, but not too hard. Trying again, the whole hand pushed through, frost lapping at exposed finger tips. Freedom, but dangerous freedom. If there was no shelter once he got out, he’d be back to square 1, freezing his balls off and potentially dying from exposure. However, there was still no change from anyone on the outside, so coast was clear. Better to take a chance. Taking the second hand, it snugly fit in beside the other; now came the tricky part. The angle wasn’t the best, but with all the might he could muster from string bean muscles (and shot glass worth of excitement induced adrenaline), the clenched entrance came apart, and a blinding spotlight snuck through. It’s just there!

On shaking thighs trying to keep balance, the brunette stuck his upper half out, almost instantly a gush threw Bill around like a daisy hanging on for dear life to its stem; the bittersweet outside. As the whoosh past, the opportunity to look round dame at last. The boy wasn’t sure what was worse: seeing nothing, or seeing reality.

He was nowhere, adrift a sea of swaying spines that rolled and tumbled for an eternity all round, in a boat he had no control of, and had no idea of its intentions or direction. Even if he were to escape, there was nowhere he could hide. No shelter he could find. No experience on how to find food. He was as dead out there (he found with shuddering breaths, unsure if it was the chill, or his own rising panic) as he was in the pockets of his captors. There was no way to find home. Jesus...

...his captors had been awfully quiet...

“Doyo?”

Throwing his head back, the boy’s blue orbs grew wide and doe like as a new face held what little concentration he could get from himself in place. Younger, much younger, around mid 20’s? But he held similar features to the older man, so maybe a relative. Wait was he talking to Bill? A shiver, CRAP, he’d been spotted trying to escape!

“Wwwwwwwha?” Was all that could dribble out of the O of his lips.

Curious buttercup coloured irises were hidden by furrowed brows.

“Doyo...deskja jo?”

“I, errrr, em. I’m sorry, I literally don’t understand a word you’re saying, but pleeeeaaaasssse.” He reasons with bated breath, “Pleeeaaassseee don’t hurt me.”

No reply this time, just an abrupt stop, throwing him forward. Rising up rollercoastered his stomach down. A full-shadowed jaw was coming closer, he was about to get eaten, a gruesome death.

“OH FUCK PLEASE DON’T-”

Smush

“-ww...wha?”

The giant pressed Bill to his forehead, holding him there. What the hell was he doing? The heat radiating off was like lava, steaming off his fingertips whilst the wind at his back felt that much worse for it. His holder turned back and called out.

“Sit mayert. Demnot doing great.”

What was that?

The youthful face looked back, the cords of his throat tight and bulging, like he was holding his breath. Did he just switch to English? What he imagining that? HOW WAS THAT POSSIBLE! HOW WAS ANY OF THIS POSSIBLE?!

He was losing his mind, and his body. Limp all round, this unusual unresponsiveness was feeling less like fright, and more like what little heat was being sapped out once more. Bill couldn’t go on, the icy ache was taking over all thought.

A hand like fallen tree descended in like it was nothing, plucking up his upper body and stuffing it back inside his baking prison (which was doing little to warm him truly) and sealed the top shut once more, footsteps becoming thunderous all round. They were moving fast. Fuck, he couldn’t stay awake, the heat was a lullaby, and no matter how much his mind wanted to fight, in the end the body submitted.

...This was getting ridiculous. Where was he this time? Well, at least the supposedly unmoving ice in his body was shifting its way out again, because now he could feel his fingers and toes. Opening his eyes, he was greeted to a pointed roof of what looked like thatch, only it was some ridiculous amount of meters up above to accommodate the gigantic residents. The whole room in fact smelt earthy, walls made of waxed wood and thatching, with something that looked like clay or mud plugging in holes and leaving the air tasting of dust, however non of the elements had any chance of getting in so win some lose some.

Sitting up, a groan threw him back down, a migraine putting him back in his place. Oh the joys of feeling like life’s punching-bag. Something foul smelling and wet suddenly smacked his feet, before trailing over and over his legs. Ew. Shifting to try and pull away, the thing only came back with more vigour, going for the whole body, mo matter how much he tried to pull away. Whatever it was eventually pulled back, and heavy pants came from above. Like that...of a dog. Uncurling, the wide smile, stout snout and wide face was unmistakable. It looked like some kind of Tibetan mastiff, if only some 100x bigger. It seemed friendly though, and that smile was too wonderful to hold a grudge against, it was doing its best to take care of him. Despite being slobbered on thanks to its exuberance, Bill couldn’t help but coo and call it back, wanting to stroke that lion mane ginger hair. Probably felt like silk. The dog was all too happy to oblige, short nose leading in to nuzzle his middle fondly. This was a better way to wake up, lying on a bear-like dog, being snuggled.

“Thanks mate. You’re lovely, aren’t you? I wish I had a dog like you back at Uni, so I would always have someone nice to come home to.” He slurred, draping over the good boy’s snout. A chuff was replied.

How had he become acclimatised to this level of insane so quickly, that he didn’t question or care about lying down with an enormous dog? Had he really given up trying to comprehend, or had his subconscious decided to flood his systems with enough serotonin to not panic himself into oblivion? Because consciously, he still saw this day as maddening. Giants were real, he was tiny, and he was making a bed on a dog. To think, he’d thought leaving his mother to stay on the other side of the country was a big deal. That managed to put a bit of a sour note in his mouth, eyes dulled as he concentrated on his mother. What he wouldn’t do to have her back. Bill’s poor mother must be losing her mind with fright, and in all honesty, he wanted her back more than anything in this world that made less and less sense. Just the sight of familiarity, the smell of floral unconditional love, and the touch of a warm hand.

“Hey.”

...reality made no sense. It sounded like buttercup eyes from before.

“Rooster, you’re not still Ill, are you?”

Rooster?

Not bothering to turn and get up to only let pain drag him down (plus Doge, as the boy decided to coin his new friend, was comfortable), Bill chose to instead groan to the air.

“My name’s not rooster.”

There was a small shift from behind. A new set of breaths, much lighter than the dog’s filtered lightly across his back. He was so close, all that nonchalantly was being replaced by adrenaline. He could grab and control all he wanted. Stay calm.

“Did...you just reply?” Came a stuttered response.

“Surprise. I don’t know either, but I can understand you now.” How very monotone of him, good.

There was a pause on Buttercup’s behalf, so he chose to carry on.

“I think it started when I was pressed to your forehead-” snapped out.

“-You remembered that? I’m surprised, I thought the hypothermia had driven you out of your mind.”

“Hypothermia?” Was that what was messing his head round? To think he’d been that vulnerable.

“Yes. Didn’t you notice?”

“I’ve never had it, so I wouldn’t know.”

A light touch, maybe a finger, grazed his spine. Trying not to shiver is harder than it looks.

“You feel warmer to the touch Rooster, so it’s probably gone.”

There it was again. “Why do you keep calling me rooster?” That may have been a bit too forward. Luckily, Butter seemed to take it in stride.

“Sorry, your determination to live when you were faced with arid land was like that of a rooster. Stubborn. Well, that and the hair. You were tenacious enough to outwit death.”

Don’t really think it was tenacity mate. Looks more like it was luck. It also looked like his luck was out.

Multiple rough finger tips touched both sides. That was the last straw. Unable to stay calm and pretend not to be terrified, Bill let out a shout of “no!”, but the hand had already scooped under his squirming body and lifted him again.

“Shhhh shhhhh shhhh. It’s ok, you’re ok Rooster. Where’s all that bravery from before?”

It was never there, it was all a facade crumbling like dust in the wind. He wasn’t brave, never was, always too afraid to speak up. All of his so called bravery was simple survival tactics that had failed him miserably. He was stupid, and impulsive, getting so caught up in one direction of thought that he never saw the consequences. It was all go, and less stop and think. And now, that immediacy to react had made him scared of the same person that had saved him from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry.” Whispered out.

The hand lifted the boy to a scruffy cheek, sweet almond-shaped eyes looking over adoringly as a curtain of thick, onyx locks cascaded around and just let him be in that moment.

“Don’t be. You’re scared, that’s alright. I would be too if I were picked up by strangers. Let’s get you some food and you can tell me your name. Mine’s Ekashiba.”

“I’m Bill.” He could already tell he was going to forget that name quickly.

At last the brunette was pulled away, feeling better. It wasn’t often that Bill enjoyed close contact, hating to be touched by others (even his own family to a point, though it wasn’t personal), but for a reason even he couldn’t comprehend, Ekashiba’s touch wasn’t as pervasive and unwanted as usually all things were. It was...nice.

As the boy was held at waist level to the man, he couldn’t help but notice in fact, all of Ekashi spoke of warmth, literally. He was wearing some sort of monochrome robe, like a Kimono but made of thick wool, with a similar sort of linen version peaking underneath. On top of that, a deep crimson sleeveless robe and finishing it all off, ring earrings and a bead necklace. But no pockets, Bill noticed with a confused head swivel. How was he carried here then?

Trotting through connecting dome-shaped rooms, the heat started to permeate the air and a sweat was building. There in the centre of the room, a wide birthed fire pit made of sand, surrounded by what looked like the whole family sitting on the raised wooden, tatami matted floor, cooking. They were all chatting amongst themselves, not noticing or uncaring that Buttercup had entered. It was a much larger family than his own, with both grandparents all the way to a kid around 12. 9 of them in total, including the familiar bearded man. Here in the light, the resemblance was striking. Same squat button nose, same sunny eyes, hell even the same thin, bowed lips. Just the addition of crows feet and full beard.

“Dad, Rooster’s woken up.”

The man in question looked up.

“Situ mitsku do toyuma?”

What? Why couldn’t he understand them! For god sake, why’d he have to go through this song and dance twice?

“What did he say?”

Buttercup shot a look down, wide eyed.

“You can’t understand him, but you can understand me?”

“I don’t know! This is all new to me too!”

“Nea...wataki mo?”

“Yes Dad, everything’s fine. It’s just for some reason the little one can only understand me-”

“-Oi, dickhead! I’m 18, not 10-“

“-And we don’t know why.”

The Dad seemed to ponder this for a while, catching the attention of the other members that weren’t cooking (grandparents, wife and the other couple). It got quite heated at one point, and Bill was only managing to be ok with all the frighteningly boisterous shouting because he was still steaming about the earlier comment. Ekashi looked like a cat trying to focus in on one target among a flock of birds, barely keeping on track, and throwing the odd comment here and there.

“Are you sure?” “Doesn’t seem likely.” “I think we need to-“

This was like GCSE French all over again. Tidbits of understanding and the rest a sea of bollocks. Was this good news or bad?

“Buttercup, please, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Buttrvrup?”

Crap. The brunette forgot only he called him that behind his back.

“That’s not the important bit, what’s going on?”

“They’re trying to decide what you are and if you’re safe to have round.”

“...but I’m like the size of a mouse, why would I be unsafe to have around?”

“They fear you may be a Monster.”

Of course. Why didn’t Bill see that coming.

“...fair enough.” What kind of an answer was that?! He should’ve made more of an effort to try and change the family’s mind through Ekashi.

The conversation just kept going on and on in circles, but one member of the debate was starting to take notice in the boy’s mind. The grandmother, hunched, skin like cracked earth and silvery. She hadn’t said a thing the whole time, just stared at him and watched his hawkish lay with beady eyes. Like she was debating his worth just through observation. Was he doing alright? Was he making a good impression.

“Boy, lift up your shirt.”

Holy shit. “Y-you speak English?” Why didn’t she say anything this entire time!

“Please, do as I ask.”

Everything fell silent, save for the bubbling wok of oil, and everyone came round to see what she was talking about. So silent, the anticipation was cutting.

“...ok.” Taking both hands to the edge of the roughed up t-shirt, the boy himself was reluctant to see what was there, but it had to be done. Putting up resistance as much as he could, shaking hands lifted the edge with nervous twitched rising. There was a black strip. No way. Lifting more the strip became strips, till he got the lip of the edge into his mouth. It was a symbol, like a kanji. A perhaps dreadful realisation, she’d seen this before.

“As I thought. The sign of the heavens. Oki, you can’t harm the child.”

“Kamita odo?”

She didn’t break eye contact once.

“...because that, is your son’s new spirit.”

[morallyblack]

brave, clever, and energetic man. such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger.

“State your full name, please.” 

“Sirius Orion Black.”

“Do you know why you are here, Sirius Black?” 

“For bullshit, I suppose.”

They had to have gone mental. Bonkers. Absolutely insane. Separated from his friends, with a handful of Aurors and a whole entire Wizengamot, Sirius sat in the chair, staring up at everyone with both amazement and boredom in his features. He still didn’t know what the hell was going on. When things were going well, really going well, he had been ripped away in urgency over worrying about a dear friend. They say Peter conjured the Dark Mark and all Sirius could think of was no way in hell. Sirius knew his friend, he liked to think that he knew his friend well and there was no changing his mind. Peter is innocent. He’s innocent. His mates are just as innocent. 

Sirius didn’t hold anxiety like his friends did. He didn’t find the feeling latching on to him because he didn’t need to. There are worse things to be scared of than the damned Ministry of Magic. Can’t even do their jobs properly, bringing in a couple of school kids for Dark Magic and couldn’t even be bothered to find the right ones. It was painfully slow, the start of this questioning, it felt more like a trial. Why was he separated from his friends? Why did he get this treatment?

After his initial answer to their question, there had been a slight uproar, a gaggle of idiotic men and women gasping at his insolence. Alastor McKinnon looked absolutely angry, beyond anger, as if rage made up all of his features. Sirius stared him down, knowing that the only reason that Alastor looked at him like this was for the last name he still had to bear. McKinnon walked up to him, sizing him up while Sirius sat in the chair, and Sirius did the same. A challenge uttered without words. “Enough jokes, boy. Answer the questions.” 

“You want to talk about jokes? Having me here in front of all these people. That’s a bloody joke.” 

“I said enough!” Sirius didn’t flinch at the outburst. One explosive temper to another, it’s easy to spot when the supposed random outbursts are about to happen. Sirius only clenched his jaw, eyes flickering to the other smug looking bastards that stared down at him. It was like staring at his family, looking at all of them thinking he was filth because he dared to defy them. “You Blacks, you all think you’re so above everyone else. You’re not above the law, Mr. Black, you don’t get to practice Dark Magic and hurt people all because of your name. There is evidence all around Hogwarts that you, along with your mates, that point to you all being troublemakers, with all the puzzle pieces pointing to the possibility of being dark wizards. Do you deny these claims?” The question was another challenge and Sirius tried to reign in his anger. He tried not to let the question bother him but it did. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, McKinnon, I’m not much of a Black these days. I’m a bit more of a Potter without all the name changing. Second, I am not and I will never practice Dark Magic. I believe those who do are the highest form of scum and I think you, a dark wizard catcher, could at least agree with me on that. Third, if you want some bloody Death Eaters, I could name a couple who were probably there that night. I go to school with enough of them. Name a pureblooded family sorted into Slytherin and save your bloody breath on one that was sorted into Gryffindor.” In hindsight, Sirius probably shouldn’t have gotten in Alastor McKinnon’s face but as his speech went on, the angrier he got and the more it felt right to get out of his chair and into the man’s face.

“I’m not my family. Hate me all you want because I, unfortunately, bear the Black name but I’m not like them. I think your mate, Fleamont Potter, would back me up if you didn’t shut him out.” Breath heaving slightly, staring nose to nose with a man who’s anger is matching his. 

Alastor didn’t even blink. “Get back in your chair, Mr. Black, or I will force you.” 

Sirius almost didn’t. He almost challenged Alastor to do his worst but with a blink, one last deep inhale of breath, Sirius sat back down in the chair. It was with a quick flick of the wand, the shackles were thereupon his wrist, keeping him bound to the chair. Anger boiled deep within him growing more and more by the second. “Now you won’t disrupt and cause another scene. I’m not questioning your classmates, I’m questioning you, Mr. Black. You deny dark magic but do you deny being a troublemaker?”

Sirius stared up at Alastor, jaw set and unmoving. He wasn’t going to talk to a man who would feel the need to shackle up someone without a wand. With literally no threat to the man with the wand. Defiance set on Sirius’ features as if he was done entertaining them and he wasn’t going to allow the pathetic excuses before him to convict him on nothing, on baseless facts and his last name. Alastor walked up to Sirius, grabbing his face roughly, a feeling he was all too familiar with as his mother adored pulling this move to make him look at her, to stare into her eyes and hopefully feel fear. 

“You will answer my questions as I ask them. Or I will hold you for longer, for contempt.” The words were whispered in a dangerous tone and still, Sirius wouldn’t waver. He wouldn’t back down. “Your silence is telling, Mr. Black. The longer you are silent to a question, the more apparent that I’m correct. You are a troublemaker. The facts presented in the insurmountable evidence. I daresay, you are quite familiar with detention. As you have managed to receive one from almost every professor at Hogwarts. And the caretaker, Mr. Filch, you had spent plenty of time with him over the years. Enough to harbor resentment for him, yes?”

Sirius’ cheek twitched. The bloody wanker was going to pin Filch’s attack on them as well. His silence had to be broken. “I didn’t attack Filch, if that’s what you’re getting at. Yeah, I may have kicked his cat once or twice but I’ll have you know, I’m a bit more of a dog person.” The comment wasn’t meant to be a joke, it wasn’t meant to have a hidden meaning, but it brought the slight twitch of a smirk to his lips. “What happened to Filch was disgusting. I would have never done that to the man.”

“Yet, a witness claimed to see you head back to the castle from the Halloween party early. Do you have an alibi for that night?”

“Yes, you can ask the hundred or so house-elves in the Kitchens who saw me eat four pumpkin pasties in a span of ten minutes.” 

“What about the Ball? Your mates couldn’t account for your whereabouts. Do you have an alibi then?” 

Sirius bit his tongue. He didn’t want to involve Mary in this. He didn’t want them to go after her, to think that she would have anything to do with dark wizards and Death Eaters. She can’t be subjected to this. “I was in a broom closet. Do you want details or should I save you lot from fainting?” He addressed the men and women behind Alastor, almost laughing in his tone as he spoke. “I’m sure you all are intelligent enough to figure out what a lad and a lass get up to in a broom closet, yeah?” 

“Enough, Mr. Black.” Alastor stood in front of him again. His anger radiating and forcing Sirius’ own anger to match. “Who were you in the closet with?”

“Can’t remember her name.”

“Do not lie to me. I’m Auror, Mr. Black, you do know we have been given permission to use certain spells in order to get the results we want.” The threat was clear. Do not lie, if you do, you’ll be forced to tell the truth. Sirius’ jaw set again, eyes holding onto the staring contest with Alastor’s before finally conceding, adverting his gaze down.

“Mary MacDonald.”

Alastor knew the name. He knew it well. Marlene had been friends with Mary for so long now. And then given Mary’s attack, it should have bee some knowledge to the Head of the Auror’s office. “Corrupting her, no doubt, as you’ve corrupted most nice people into being your mate.” His words were low enough that only Sirius heard him. Sirius had momentarily forgotten that he was shackled, bringing his right hand up to punch Alastor in the face but he was stopped, earning a smirk from the older man. “You can’t deny that I’m right. Mr. Black. It’s what your family does. Corrupts, spread your poisonous thoughts and ideals onto others, leeching the good from them. Your father and mother had done their share of sinking claws into respectable witches and wizards over the years. No doubt their son would do the same.” Alastor finally backed away from Sirius, looking back at those behind him, as if he were coming up with his next rounds of question and Sirius found himself straining against his shackles. He felt beyond anger. He felt hatred and rage and all of those ugly feelings that cropped up whenever things felt unjust. Whenever he remembered the way his parents treated him. The way that he left, disowned, burned from the family tapestry.

“If you truly know my parents, McKinnon, that you would know that I’m dead to them.” The word rang throughout the room, as everyone stared back at him in silence, stunned or stony, either way, it was quiet. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, in his ears, he was sure they could all hear it. “I ran away in July and they burned me off the tapestry. As I said, I may bear the name Black but I’m more of a Potter.” Sirius stopped straining against his shackles, he leaned back in the chair again, fighting the urge to show them how upset he was. He blinked away the tears, he kept his jaw shut and lips together even tighter to keep them from quivering. For a minute, just a quick minute that he forced out of his mind the moment that he thought it, he wished for Euphemia. He wished for a mother’s touch. Because beneath all of his anger, all of his defiances, was a scared twenty-one year old, facing down people twice his age, with the threat of extreme measures over his head. But he couldn’t show them that he was vulnerable. 

Alastor was quiet for only a few minutes, no longer than ten, before he continued on. As if he registered what Sirius had said but it meant nothing. It didn’t mean a thing that one of his closest friends had taken in a young man when he left a family who hated him. As if the word dead meant nothing. Because his hatred for the sacred twenty-eight, for those who are pure but think themselves above anyone else, outweighs the words of someone who denounced that life. Sirius wanted nothing to do with his family. He didn’t act like the type of pureblood who was above anyone else. Yes, he was arrogant. Yes, he had an ego the size of the whole bloody kingdom. But he would never think he’s above anyone else based on something as archaic as blood. None of this mattered to Alastor McKinnon.

The questioning went on for hours, longer than some of his friends had been questioned as if he was the one who cast the Dark Mark and not Peter. Did they see that Peter would have to be innocent on the basis that Peter couldn’t hurt a fly? Did they realize that it couldn’t have been Remus and it couldn’t have been James? All anyone saw in Sirius was his last name. They blamed him for his last name. It was after some time, after being asked to explain what he had received different detentions for, the fights he had been in, the curses he used on his victims; eventually, Sirius stopped talking.

Eventually, after some deliberation, they let Sirius go. The evidence was circumstantial at best and that if they found anything else, he would find himself back here. Or Azkaban. It was almost as if Alastor got a sick enjoyment thinking about that. Sirius didn’t say a word, no cheeky response, he barely even looked at anyone as he walked out. He wished he could burn the room behind him. If they wanted a monster, they might as well get one. The world around him felt like a blur until he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and out of instinct, just by the smell that overwhelmed him, that Sirius even wrapped his arms around the other person. Fleamont held Sirius close, whispering words that he wouldn’t be listening to. 

“Can we just go home, please?”

[alwayshailing87]

It’s time I talk about this.

I created a new tumblr because no one needs to see the sock drawer of content on my older account. I’ll start fresh here.

I had contemplated writing a blog post for a while. There’s been so much weighing heavy on my mind that I just needed to get out to begin with. The decision to finally open up was sort of inspired by a friend’s social media post earlier this week. It touched on fears of abandonment, and anxiety. I felt the need to talk about my own fears. I’m coming to the realization that I’m in much greater pain than I let on.

2019 could have been considered a comeback year for me in a lot of ways. I committed to the fitness journey. I broke free from years of emotional abuse and manipulation. I found my spark again, my inner comedienne. I’ve expanded my circle and have some truly incredible friends at my side. I’ve connected with some genuine people that I’d love to keep in my life. Sky’s the limit, right?

As 2019 came to a close I recalled all of these victories, and yet it was the loneliest I had felt. It was the most...broken...that I had felt. I’m thankful for my mom and all of the hugs she gave me while I was home. There were nights during the Christmas season where I would just well up with tears because I felt so alone. She sort of chalked it up to me missing my grandparents, as I always do at Christmas. But I was too embarrassed to explain that there was more.

Circle back to the mention of emotional abuse. Without getting into dirty details, some of which are of my own fault, I was lured into a situation where a man I trusted took advantage of my heart and my mind. Freshly devastated from the sudden passing of my Grammy in 2013, he white-knighted his way into my world. Promises of protection, love, to “treat me the way I had always deserved to be treated”. He wanted to “tear down my walls”. Lots of that stuff that makes a depressed, vulnerable woman feel like someone gives a shit.

Months prior to this, I stared down a flowing Monongahela from the railing of the Birmingham bridge. I couldn’t do it, obviously. I was in rough shape mentally but asking myself over and over “what would happen to Sylvia” seemed to keep me from ending my life. To have someone essentially reach out a hand to you and vow to be your protector and love you, it would be insanity to not grab that hand and hold on with everything you have left.

He knew of the several times I had been ghosted, or stood up on dates. Blown off on dating sites, and just treated like trash in general. I’m a chubby girl who’s a few eons off from a model body. His whole act was to shower me with affection and I fell for every single fucking bit of it.

When I think back on this, I think of these words and phrases that were said to me: Soul mate. Gorgeous. Dream girl. The perfect woman. Best friend. The greatest thing that ever happened to me. And there was friendship. Laughter. Humor that spanned from highbrow to lowbrow and every terrible pun in between.

Stupidly enough I fell in love. And I loved fiercely, as I do with anyone I care about. I offered up my unwavering loyalty. See, the thing is...I’ve gone through my life dedicating myself to my loved ones as a fierce family member and friend. There have been so many times in my life where I felt alone or unwanted, that I vowed to make sure anyone who settled into my circle would never feel the way I have felt. This was no different.

As expected (and in retrospect, thankfully) this whole thing came crashing down. I found out I was one warm body out of multiple. And that’s when things for me started to deteriorate.

Being toggled back and forth between “I still love you” and “You’re one of the best things in my world” and “I don’t want you in my circle anymore” will eventually warp your mind. Even as a friend, the loyalty given due to the history was thrown out like a used sock. The memories and the bond meant nothing. I began to think I deserved it as punishment for the mistakes I’ve made in my life. Maybe I did or still do. In the aftermath of this, I was on suicide watch. To be outright rejected and shunned by the very person who vowed with everything he was to be THAT person for you, you wonder if you were ever worth anything at all. If your white knight tells you that he doesn’t care about you anymore, then maybe you’re just not worth any man’s time. That maybe you’re just not worth anything, period.

It’s weird now, being able to step out of a situation and say “hey, he was a piece of shit and all of this was toxic”, while also being pretty emotionally damaged because now you feel like any man who expresses any sort of liking towards you is lying. And when you feel fat and disgusting on a frequent basis, you’re highly skeptical of a good looking guy finding you attractive and not chasing some dime of a babe elsewhere.

In the time since I’ve freed myself from the bullshit, I’ve heard those similar words. Gorgeous. Perfect. Beautiful sassy funny and any word in between that makes me think a man might truly and whole-heartedly value a single shred of my existence. And while it feels wonderful, and hearing it makes me smile, my brain retreats back to the feeling of “He’s just saying that while he probably bangs or flirts with a bunch of other women. You know that you’re nothing compared to other smokeshows who are in his league”.

So when the messages go silent, or plans to go out on a date fall through, half of my brain says “he’s busy” or “things happen, it’s okay”, the other half gets back on its bullshit, and I assume the worst. Because it’s all I know.

All I know are lies. Just lies. Lies and excuses and half-assed answers and secrets. I don’t think any man has ever been proud to have me. And it’s brought me to this place where I feel alone and unwanted. It’s brought me paranoia and crippling anxiety. I’m scared of destroying the fledgling of a relationship(?) I have going because I have been so destroyed by lies that it’s so hard for me to believe people. And that terrifies me. The last thing I want to do is push someone away because I know that what I have to give in a relationship is pure and genuine. I try so hard to fight the irrational fear and BELIEVE what is being said to me. Even now I’m a crying mess as I type this, because the one I’ve been talking to...I can’t begin to express how I felt when I saw his huge smile in real time. It was a smile that completely took my breath away. It was a smile that was so genuine and it brought me pure joy when I saw it.

That kind of joy, those “butterflies” that someone feels in moments like that? I felt it. For a while I wasn’t sure if I could feel anything like that again. I think of that smile and I grin to myself all over again, and yet my heart sinks because I’m scared that it will disappear for someone better. Because I am always the second or third choice...or just not the choice at all.

For some reason the holidays just amplified the loneliness. I think of curling up with my someone at Christmas and enjoying the warmth and the lights. I’ve wanted that for so long, and I’m so tired of being alone. I’m just tired. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not worth a man’s honesty or time. The fear and worry that I’ll be told to get lost by someone I care about - again - is like a vice grip in my chest. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe. Sometimes tears just flow out of my eyes and I’m not even moving. It’s not just a fear of losing someone you genuinely want in your life, but it’s also the fear that the devil in your head is right; that you really are ugly, worthless and unwanted.

And I know the only way I can begin to combat it is therapy. There’s zero shame in admitting that I need to go back. My therapist helped me through the first phase of healing form the toxicity and abuse. But now I need to learn to handle the constant fears of abandonment. I tried to fight it for the last couple of months but I just can’t do this on my own. I just want to heal. There are so many parts of me that are strong and grounded, and I feel like this is the one piece of me that still hasn’t recovered from the trauma.

I’ve been told never to apologize for my fears and my trauma because it was, and is real, but I still feel a need to express some level of remorse because this is not the best version of me. I don’t take pride in the reactions I’ve had. I can only humbly ask for patience as I work through this.

[celebritycrush-imagines]

Imagine [soulmate AU | his POV | Part one]

[What this could be about if I were a writer] You get a day. A day in the body of your soulmate. This strange phenomenon tends to happen on mirror day in the year the youngest of the couple turns 20, or as some people like to call it: valentines day. It has turned into a habit to buy a red rose the day before and lay it on your night stand, so the very first thing the soul mate sees when they wake up is the rose. [Your celebrity crush] finds the whole thing idiotic and doesn’t care about mirror day at all. That is, of course, until his day arrives and he wakes up in your body. 

Part two

My head is pounding. God, this girl has absolutely gone to town drinking last night, hasn’t she? She was probably nervous. Pubs were filled last night with twenty year olds, crying and moaning about today. So she’s not the odd one. Next year, I should remember to take the day off. It’s insane. Why do people care so much? It’s just a day. In a strangers body. We shouldn’t be so excited over this as we are... I try to roll over on my belly, but for the first time, there are boobs in the way. Right. I have boobs for a day. Now, this could be fun. I have to say, I haven’t seen your face yet, but your boobs are very much approved. Also, lying on them hurts... Is this normal? I know women complain on that all the time. But it should not hurt like this. Right? Let’s try the side. Rolling over, I notice a card on the bedside table and sit up. 

“Sorry about the head.. I was a little nervous. I took a guess and figured I was the youngest of the relationship”   You are. I had to spend the last four years wondering which mirror day was going to be ours. Kinda glad it’s today. Don’t really like big age gaps.  “If I’m not the youngest, hi self: please do ignore this message. And get some paracetamol. You went through this drinking thing for nothing, girl. Oh, and If you are someone else... Hi there. I’m [your name]. 20 years old, a student, living in a flat with my 2 roommates, Katie and Ashley. Katie, 22, met her soulmate last year and has been around that girl’s place quite a lot. There’s a very likely chance you won’t see her today. And Ashley. She might be freaking out today too. We’re the same age. Good luck today! And please be nice to my body. I’m going to have to live with it for the rest of my life. ps please do go to the literature class you have at 10.30. I need to the notes. We’re reading Life of Pie, and I’m about half way through, but I really do not understand why my teacher loves the book so much. She’s going to talk about it today. So yeah. Notes would be great.” 

This girl doesn’t sound that bad actually.. Before I forget, I walk over to her desk to search for a pen and paper. My eyes fall quickly on the mirror that’s on her desk and two very tired, but nonetheless beautiful, eyes stare back at me. I can’t help but smile at the unfamiliar face that already feels familiar.  “Hi there”, I smile, before getting up and finding the tall mirror in the room. My curiosity is getting the better of me now. For years, I’ve been told ‘I just don’t understand’, ‘I have to experience it first’, and ‘once you wake up and see who your person is, I’d understand’. I always laughed it off. Bullshit. But standing in front of the mirror, I finally see what everyone has been telling me for years. Not only does the girl I see - dressed in some boxers and a t-shirt that says ‘get up, you’re late’ - look absolutely beautiful, I immediately feel the need to protect her. And, oh help, love her. I want to hug her. For the first time I feel the pain of not being able to hug yourself. I play with the hem of the t-shirt, tempting to lift it over my head. But I also feel this immense respect for the woman I see and I don't want to see her as just meat. She’s not. She’s the person I’ve known for like five minutes and already want to marry. Great. 

So I won’t get naked. 

Just yet.

Okay, focus. I was getting a pen. Walking back to the desk, I sit down and grab the first thing that looks like I could write on.  “Hey you. You’re right. You are the youngest. I’m twenty-four. Into older guys, huh? I hope you don’t find my room repulsing. I didn’t think about cleaning it for you. Sorry about the leftover pizza on the bedside table. A lot less romantic than a rose, right... I will make it up to you, I promise. You see, I didn’t think that I was going to like you. Or care about you. So I didn’t feel the need to take care of you. Just yet. And I’m sorry about that. I honestly don’t even know why, because when I saw you just a second ago, I fell in love straight away. You’re quite something, woman. I can’t wait to pick that brain of yours. I hope you’ll have me. Even after the pizza-thing. Oh and about your body: don’t worry, I won’t do anything to it. But boy, do I want to... Sorry I finished this on such a dirty dude-note. I didn’t mean to. But you know, I shouldn’t lie either. Anyway, I’m going to live your life today. If you read this, and you weren’t completely repulsed by me, please come find me. You know where I live now. I promise I’d love to meet you. Love, [your celebrity crush]

ps. On Life of Pie: I will go to your teacher/lecture/thing. No worries. I’d love to go. But please, keep reading the book. Don’t write it off just yet. I know what you mean, it looks like the weirdest book, right? With the tiger and the boat and the boy. Yeah, I get it. But I promise you, the final pages are worth it (do NOT skip ahead. Don’t you dare! I feel like you’re going to. Don’t). The whole book gets put in perspective once you’ve read those pages. So please, keep reading. Come find me when you’re done. We can talk about it.

Alright. Shower time.  I’m very excited about todays shower. 

a/n: haven’t done a his POV in a while, so here we are. I saw this prompt somewhere (don’t know where... So sorry I completely sort of stole the idea) and came up with this. I went a little crazy, and really feel like doing a part two where they meet. What’d you think?  

[garuda-dreams-of-rain]

The Final, Final Problem

In honor of ILYanniversary2018, I wrote a little story. Please enjoy. 🙏🏻

Also on AO3.

*****

Sherlock kept banging on Molly’s door. “Let me in!” he yelled.

“Go away, Sherlock,” Molly shouted. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit!”

“Please, Molly,” he begged. “You’ve got to let me explain.”

“Go away!”

Sherlock sank down in the hallway and sat, his back against her door. “I’m not leaving!” he bellowed. “Not until you let me in!”

“That’s never going to happen!” she hollered through the door. “You can’t play with my feelings like this! You’re such a bastard!”

Molly’s neighbor Patrick, a rather burly ginger pushing sixty, in his boxer shorts, vest and robe, whipped his door open and glared at Sherlock. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, would ye two please shut up now? It’s three o’clock in the bloody morning and this has been going on for 45 minutes!”

“I can’t leave,” Sherlock said, desperately. “I love her. I told her and she doesn’t believe me. I’m going to sit here until she opens the door or I die.” He crossed his arms and scowled. “I could be bleeding to death out here and fat lot she’d care!” he shouted at the unresponsive door.

“Jaysus,” said Patrick, rubbing his face. He went back inside his flat, pulled two beers out of his fridge, and joined Sherlock on the floor in the hallway, his back against his own door. He passed a beer to Sherlock. “Now, lad, tell me what’s happening.”

Sherlock cracked the beer and opened his mouth to speak, but Patrick held up a warning finger. “Just so ye know, laddie, I have a daughter nearly Molly’s age. She lives in Dublin and I love her more than me life. I look on Molly as me own. If I even think for a second that you’re jerking her around, I’ll be having your kidneys for breakfast. Understand?”

Sherlock swallowed and nodded. “It’s kind of…complicated,” he began.

“Always is, mate,” Patrick responded, evenly.

“Well, I have a sister who’s utterly insane, and locked up in a…um…institution.”

“Runs in the family, does it?” Patrick asked.

Sherlock shot him a look. “Anyway, today she made me call Molly and make her say…those words, but Molly made me say them first, and I knew it was terrible and awful and unforgivable and she was going to hate me but I couldn’t let her get blown up, could I?”

“Bollocks!” Patrick said.

“No, really,” Sherlock continued. “Listen, I know it’s supposed to be lovely and romantic when you tell a girl you love her. I’ve seen the movies, I’m not a complete idiot. There’s supposed to be flowers and rainbows and jewelry and sickening music with swelling strings or at least Frank Sinatra, and France in the background or something. I know that. But when you only have three minutes before the bombs go off, there’s no time to make it nice.”

“Bombs? Real bombs?” Patrick looked around, worried. “There’s bombs here?”

“Well, no. They weren’t real but I didn’t know that at the time. She’s really insane. My sister, I mean, not…Molly. Although she’s acting pretty crazy right now!” he shouted through the door. “Considering that I love her!”

“Fuck off, Sherlock!” Molly hollered back. “I’m going to bed!”

“We’re going to need something stronger than beer, mate,” Patrick sighed, going into his flat and coming out with a bottle and two glasses.

“Is that Irish whiskey?” Sherlock asked, a bit of trepidation in his voice.

“Something wrong with Irish whiskey?” Patrick demanded, narrowing his eyes and pouring them each a measure.

“No!” Sherlock was quick to add. “Fine whiskey. Lovely…people.”

They clinked glasses and downed the shots. Patrick poured some more. “Now, laddie. You’ve known her how long?”

“Seven years.”

“And when, to the nearest of your recollection, did ye start to love her?”

“Seven years ago. Don’t tell her I said that, okay?” Sherlock whispered conspiratorially.

“God almighty, ye are a moron, aren’t ye? And you’ve never told her.”

“Never. My work is rather dangerous, and, um, romantic entanglements could prove…fatal.”

“Well,” Patrick observed, “Now ye have a choice. Death from work, death from Molly, or death from me. Choose.” At Sherlock’s panicked expression, he burst out laughing. “I’m just having ye on, lad. But now, you’re going to have to clarify why romantic entanglements could be fatal.”

“Well, I have to keep my mind sharp and focused. If I’m thinking about Molly’s beautiful brown eyes at the wrong time, or that adorable little giggle, or the way she bites her bottom lip, or her cute upturned nose, or her…frankly terrible taste in clothes, or the way she makes jokes about death, or her kind heart which I don’t deserve, or the way she slaps me so..good…”

“Careful there, lad,” Patrick warned. “I don’t need to be hearing about your sex life.”

“We don’t have a sex life!” Sherlock shouted. “Because she won’t believe me when I tell her I love her! And god, now you’ve made me think about that and now I really am going to die.”

“So, ye don’t want to love her because you’re afraid of getting distracted at work?” Patrick shook his head. “Lad, I’m an iron worker. I spend me life running around on girders two, three hundred meters in the air. One wrong step and I’ll be a splat on the pavement. And as much as I adore me wife, which is to say with a powerful yearning that astonishes me every single day, I stay focused so I can go back to her sweet arms every single night. If I can do it, ye can do it. Every man knows that. ‘Cor blimey, mate, what kind of an idiot are ye?”

“I’m a lovesick idiot.” Sherlock muttered.

“That much is obvious,” Patrick said, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to woo her, lad.”

“What? You mean, stand here, sing songs, that kind of nonsense? Do you have a lute I can borrow?” Sherlock snort-laughed and took another shot. “If she would just let me in I know I could explain it to her.”

“Tell me instead.”

“Oh god,” Sherlock groaned. “She asked me out when we first met, but I shied off because she was so cute and adorable and I was immediately attracted to her, but I knew it was going to be a problem. So I put her off. But then I got to know her more, and I found out she was different from other girls…women. She was so strong and kept her dignity even when I insulted her that Christmas and I felt bad so I apologized. I never feel bad! I never apologize! I love her so much I even like it when she makes me feel terrible!”

Sherlock leaned over and yelled through the door. “I’m sorry, Molly! Please forgive me!” He turned back to Patrick. “Christ, look at me, I’m apologizing!”

“Aye, laddie, the terrible depths to which you’ve sunk,” Patrick chuckled.

Sherlock shook his head woefully and continued. “And then sometimes I’d want to see her so badly I could barely breathe, and sometimes I avoided her because it hurt to see her and not be with her, but she saw me and helped me and I trusted her with my life, and she kept my secret for two years! Two years! She saved my life. I owe her…everything. Everything. And when I came back I almost went for it because I was so lonely and she’s so lovely and I knew I was being a fool but I couldn’t help it because…”

“…you’re an idiot,” Patrick said.

“…because I’m an idiot and I didn’t see how wonderful and perfect she is, and she was engaged to that…sex maniac, and I wanted to punch him but then I thought why shouldn’t she have someone who’s good for her and not me? Someone…normal, someone who will cherish her and keep her safe and not me, running around chasing murderers and getting people into trouble. And then I couldn’t stop getting high, which is bad, I know it’s bad, but sometimes I can’t help it and then things have just been so…difficult and Mary died and I wanted to run to her...Molly, I mean, and just hold her but I couldn’t, because…”

“…you’re an arsehole,” Patrick said.

“…because I’m an arsehole and I was scared to do it because I’m not worthy of her, not at all and the next thing I knew there’s my sister whom I didn’t know I had, and I had to make her say it...Molly, I mean, or she would die and then I would die because I can’t live without her,” he finished, sorrowfully. “And now I’m going to sit here until she forgives me or I expire of unrequited love.”

Patrick stared at the younger man sitting opposite. He shook his head. “Laddie, you’re a mess, there’s no doubt about it. And a bit of a drama queen, too, I reckon. But I think you’ll have no problems.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked. “She won’t even talk to me.”

“No, but she heard you.”

“How do you know?” Sherlock wailed. “She went to bed, and I’m out here dying and she doesn’t even care!”

“Because I can see her shadow under the door,” Patrick answered. “She’s been sitting there listening to every word ye said. If the door wasn’t there, ye’d be sitting back to back.” He shook his head, got to his feet and knocked loudly on Molly’s door. “Open the door, ye daft lass! There’s a boyo out here who loves ye!”

The door flew open and Sherlock fell backwards through the frame. Molly squealed and jumped on him, straddling his hips and pressing kisses all over his face. “You do love me!” she exclaimed. “You love me!” Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, wildly, happily.

“Of course I do, Molly,” Sherlock managed to say between kisses. “What did you think?”

“Now,” Patrick said, “ye two get up off the floor and get in there before I have to call the police and report ye for making a public nuisance of yourselves, disturbing the peace and whatnot. Jaysus, young folks today!”

They scrambled to their feet. Molly yanked Sherlock inside and slammed the door shut. Over the sound of their giggles from the other side of the door, Patrick yelled, “Don’t forget now, I get to give the bride away!”

“Patrick, ye foolish man,” said his wife, leaning in their doorway in her nightgown, her eyes shining. “Get back in here and leave them young lovers alone. It’s half three in the morning and I’m going to give ye a thorough snog, I am, because I love ye more than life itself.”

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

if jake and bella had feelings for each other bc jake imprinted on the small part of renesmee inside bella, does that mean that jake and edward loved each other equally as much before bella got pregnant bc jake would have imprinted on the part of renesmee in edward?

Okay, there are two things we need to take into consideration here:

Stephenie Meyer didn’t really have a strong understanding of biology, which she openly admitted to in interviews when asked about the mechanics of a Vampire Pregnancy 

‘Imprinting’ never exactly was defined as ‘being in love’. 

Before we really jump into this, I would just like to take the time to lay a curse on you and all your future generations for making me think this hard about the Twilight Saga in 2017, the year of our Lord. How did you even think of this question? 

Anyway, let’s begin.

So, going through interviews or just checking out Meyer’s faq page, which I did FREQUENTLY in seventh and eighth grade, one is able to find out that she put A  L O T of thought into coming up with How A Vampire’s Biology Should Work. She really came through with all these new, weird, made up vampo-fluids that keep the body working and what not, but she also admitted to not having the clearest understanding of actual, real biology. Of course, actual real biology should probably never come to play in this explanation in the first place, as we’re talking about a 109-year old vampire with sparkly skin knocking up his 19-year old human wife, but we can’t escape it as a fact. Now, Meyer’s stated that she got the inspiration for Nessie because she read up on the incubus, which can reportedly impregnate women. But wait, she must of thought, this is a book, people are gonna want an explanation on How The Fuck That Actually Works. So, she did some research, as any author would, and discovered that while after a certain point, women stop producing eggs (which would’ve been a moot point as the vampires can’t change anyway), men never actually stop producing semen. A dude could be in his late 90′s, and as long as nothing’s been snipped and he can still get it up, he could very much still impregnate someone. Now, you’re thinking, ‘Okay, but corpses can’t impregnate anything! Edward’s dead!’ which is true, to an extant- For all the poetic waxing he does about being dead and damned to hell, Edward was changed into a vampire on the verge of death. He’s not undead, technically, he’s a totally different life form. Edward, while he doesn’t need certain things a human would, can still experience them (I mean like breathing and blinking and stuff), because Meyer put effort into developing their biology. Like, they don’t have blood in their veins, but they have some Weird Vampire Stuff that performs all the functions of blood. So it goes to stand that he would be able to impregnate someone, since he was still functionally alive and therefore able to produce semen. 

However.

This really works because she invented biology for her characters, she’s an expert at this stuff because it is HERS. Any other biology, real biology, that she has not studied and probably has just a very basic understanding of? That’s not hers. As she has admitted to have very liminal knowledge on how Human Biology works, it’s hard to apply it too this story. It’s NOT hard to assume she might not have a totally correct understanding of it- I mean, for example, I remember when I was learning about it, everyone was pretty surprised to learn that it actually takes a bunch of sperm to break down the egg before one can fertilize it, and that the egg wasn’t basically a mini-baby just waiting to be hit up, and stuff like that. Like, the split dna thing was obvious, but every biology class I’ve ever been in had people vastly underestimating the role the sperm plays. It would also be wise to acknowledge that Nessie’s dna is bizarre for both humans and vampires, which could add to the explanation, but overall- I think a good explanation would be that Stephenie Meyer just really didn’t have the fullest grasp on the importance of Edward’s sperm in the situation, and therefore just didn’t consider it when it came into play. 

Now, for the next theory:

Imprinting was never defined as romantic love. It was defined as ‘strong feelings’ or something to the like. 

 "It’s not like love at first sight, really. It’s more like…gravity moves…suddenly. It’s not the earth holding you here anymore, she does…You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that’s a protector, or a lover, or a friend.“

That’s how Jacob describes the phenomenon to Bella. Now, sure, some of the wolves and their imprints HAVE fallen in romantic love- Sam and Emily, Paul and Rachel, but then like…you have Jacob. And you have Quill. They’ve imprinted on little kids! But nowhere in the series is pedophilia endorsed (like, listen, the books do have some Issues but that really wasn’t one of them). They do not view Nessie or Claire as their future mates or anything, they just see them as little girls and care about them. The feeling are strong, but it’s platonic. They view themselves as older brothers almost. The wolves don’t age, so when they girls get older, dynamics shift. Maybe once they’re women the wolves do fall in love with them- but that’s no guarantee of anything. Imprinting is never a guarantee, Emily didn’t want to be with Sam for the longest time. Bella even asked Jacob what would happen if the imprintee didn’t love the wolf back, and he told her, like, okay, they don’t wanna be together, that’s fine. The wolf can’t control imprinting on a girl and the girl can’t control how she feels in return. People can have very deep, very platonic feelings for each other. Best friends can be soulmates. As long as the wolf and the imprintee have some relationship, be it sibling or best friends or lovers, the wolf will pretty much be satisfied.  

But wait, you say, how does this answer my theoretically question about Edward?

I’d like you to remember- Jacob has had a crush on Bella since they were little kids. When he becomes a hormonal teenager, his crush becomes a little stronger. When he becomes a wolf, the theory goes that he unconsciously sensed the little piece of Nessie inside her, latched onto that, and that basically amplified his feelings for Bella. It wasn’t ‘I can sense my future wife in you so I’m gonna have feelings for you but they’re really for her’, his feelings for Bella were real. But his wolf sense took his innocent, horny little crush and blew it up to mega-proportions just because it could sense his future imprint. That’s the theory that was proposed, anyway. So, I’d like to propose back: If he never transformed into a wolf, his feelings for Bella would have never gotten That Bad. They were just amplified without his control. 

So, perhaps: He hated Edward so intensely because he turned into a wolf and could unconsciously sensed his imprint in him as well. 

I mean, think about it: In the first book, he didn’t LIKE Edward because of all the stuff his father told him about the Cullens, but he really didn’t have any strong opinions on the guy either. In New Moon, before he changed, he thought Edward was a dick for leaving Bella, but he wasn’t as…aggressive about him as he is after he changes. But after he becomes a wolf? Every time he sees Edward he’s ready to rip his head off. If his feelings towards Bella were amplified because he could sense Nessie in her, it stands to reason that his feelings towards Edward were amplified as well. The difference being, the were just negative feelings! It was still strong feelings! It still could’ve very much had to do with the imprint! And also, to add to this, may I point out- what’s the point in the story where Jacob and Edward come to an understanding, where Jacob decides he hates Edward less than before? After Bella is already pregnant with Nessie. They start working together to protect Bella, and Edward asks Jake to kill him if she dies. And Jake basically thinks “Hey, he’s still a dick, but maybe he’s not as bad as I’ve thought this whole time? Maybe he actually does love Bella? I feel bad for him?” And Jake is still 100% focused on Bella at this point, but he spares Edward no mind even though he’s been obsessed with hating him for like two years now at that point, and what’s the thing that’s changed in this situation? Edward’s not the one that’s pregnant! All parts of Jacob’s future imprint have left him. Jacob no longer has amplified feelings towards Edward. Just solely his insane crush on Bella, until the second Nessie’s popped out and he’s like “Oh, fuck.” I think this is could be a very good explanation on that whole dynamic. Jacob did sense the imprint in Edward, it just manifested differently than with the girl he’s been crushing on since he was a toddler. 

OR, I mean, we could just acknowledge the fact that “sensing Nessie” was never really made canon, just an explanation a 16 year old boy came up with to explain why he used to be in love with his imprint’s mother, and this is all bullshit and something else was going on entirely. 

I cannot believe I wrote this. 

[thevioletquinn]

Whirlwind // Self Para

Who: Violet Quinn, Daniel Costello What: Violet goes back to escorting and is met with a blast from the past Where: Violet’s bedroom, Ballroom at a hotel, Hotel room When: Wednesday 5th August 2020 Mentions: Caleb Whitmore, Josh Cahill, Sally Cahill, Frankie Ramirez, Leon Johnson Trigger Warnings: Escorting/Prostitution? (grey area) Word Count: 2,449

Since Caleb had left, Violet’s financial situation had been somewhat in the air. He had been providing for her and giving her that stable life where she didn’t need to worry about money and suddenly when he was gone, she was left with this huge question mark on what she was supposed to do next. Although her head seemed to be healing, she still wasn’t quite ready to go back to stripping yet – something which still broke Violet’s heart because of how much she loved it – which meant that she had no money coming in and just a bit of money left in her savings. It definitely wouldn’t last her long to burn through her stash. In her eyes, the simplest option for her was to go back to what she knew. Escorting.  

The brunette called back up her old agency and sorted out a new contract and soon enough, a client had called up to book her for a charity gala for something or other. Mr. Henderson. That’s the only information she had that the client was willing to give so Violet was pretty in the dark with no picture for confirmation – just that they would meet her there if she waited in the lobby. With that, she got ready for this mystery with just the place and the information that it was a black and white themed charity gala. It wasn’t her first time going to some big fancy charity ball so she knew how to dress to impress.  Opting for a black dress, she got herself ready. It was fair to say that her stomach was a bundle of nerves right now. Being out of that world for three months and coming back in to it, it wasn’t hard to see why she might be a little nervous but Violet had nothing if not a good poker face.  

Violet got to the hotel where the gala was being held and waited around in the lobby, checking the time on her phone as well as replying to a few messages while she waited for Mr Henderson to show up. That’s when she heard him. “I remember buying that dress for you. I forgot how good you looked in it.” Violet could recognize that voice anywhere and instantly resulted in a scoff when she realized it.

“Henderson, that... That's fucking cute. How long did you spend thinking that one up?” Violet turned around to look her ex-fiancé in the eye and immediately crossed her arms in a standoff stance. Henderson had been the location they had been for his friend’s wedding the day after they’d met. The brunette shook her head. “You know what? I’m out of here.”

“Actually... you can’t. I already pre-paid for our time together and if you break your contract, you’ll lose your agency.” Daniel firmly told her but holding a smug look on his face because he knew that she really was caught out on this one. Violet bit her cheeks to try and hold herself back. He knew how much Violet hated not being in control and he had very effective taken control out of her hands. “So here’s the deal...” He began as the male rummaged in to his pocket. Danny took her arm from the folded position and turned her left hand so the palm was facing up for her to take something. He placed her old engagement ring in to her hand. “...this is the charity gala we went to in Vegas and this year, it’s here. Now a few of my father’s associates who are here tonight remember you as my fiancée and since I can’t get a word in to correct them, you’re now my fiancée for the evening. Congratulations!”

Violet stared at the ring in her hand. She hadn’t seen it since she threw it back in his face in the break up. Her stomach felt like it was tying itself in to knots and even though it was just a ring, it felt so heavy in her hand. The brunette mostly registered what he was saying while she was watching this ring and eventually let out a sigh and put it on. After all, he’d paid for her for the night so she couldn’t exactly say no. “Let’s just get this over with.” She sighed and started to walk them in the direction of the ballroom where Danny flashed his invite to the check in gentleman and allowed them access.

It had been a night of schmoozing rich men and women and pretending that she was oh-so-in-love with her ex. In fact, as a means of spite, she really did sell it. She’d tell stories about things that never happened, places they’d never been. She’d talk about the wedding she had initially started planning for back then. A part of her hurt revealing things that she’d thought about and considered back then as her dream wedding to Daniel Costello but in the hopes of it hurting him too, she could make it work. However, her main vice was coming in to play whenever she could drag Daniel over to the bar to get them both a drink.  

The night hadn’t been too difficult as it had mostly been spent around people and talking to other people but eventually, they found themselves sat at their designated table and talking to some of the other guests at their table until they left to get drinks leaving the pair of them there, alone. Throughout the conversation, Daniel’s hand had been on her leg to resemble some kind of a relationship to people but once people were gone, he still hadn’t moved it which prompted her to lean in closer to him. “Take your hand... off my leg.” She spoke in a low voice.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Fuck you?”

“Try again.”

“...Please.”

With that, he moved his hand. He still looked very clearly amused with himself and the effect he could have on her which made her turn her head again and sip her champagne. Either way, Danny still kept himself leaned forward to be close to her. “Cute little touches about our wedding, by the way. Almost wish you’d worn white tonight so I could have seen what you would have looked like as a bride.” He teased which, once again, prompted Violet to bite her tongue and stop herself from snapping. “I’m sure my actual bride will look stunning on Saturday.” His comment instantly made her head snap back to him.

“You’re getting married... on Saturday?” Violet questioned, really trying to wrap her head around that. Daniel nodded with again, another smug look on his face. “Then why are...” She could feel herself getting angrier but knew she could get in trouble if she caused a scene and ruined his little charade so she stood up.

Violet grabbed his hand and pulled him to follow her. They were talking about this and he wasn’t going to get to say no. She walked them out to the lobby and about to walk them outside when he seemed to just stop moving and wouldn’t let her pull him anymore so she snapped her head back to him with a clear look of anger. “If we’re going to talk about this, I have a room upstairs. We can talk there.” He told her in a calm voice which only fuelled her more. How was he so cool about what he was doing? Violet very quietly groaned and walked them to the elevator and let him lead her to the hotel room he’d booked for the night.

Once in the room, Violet wasn’t holding back anymore. “If you’re getting married on Saturday, why the fuck did you need me to play your fiancée? You have one!” She snapped, not bothering to hold it back as he went to go and sit down on the bed. He just sat there, undoing his tie and watching her. “Answer me!”

“Like I said, the business associates remember you and wouldn’t listen when I tried to correct them.”

“That’s a weak story and you know it... You could have turned up here with your fiancée and just said ‘oh you must be mistaken; this is blah blah.’ but instead, you spent time tracking down your ex and setting up this whole thing about playing fiancée. Putting your hand on my waist – on my ass – when you’re about to be a married man!”

“Are you honestly trying to claim that you’ve never done this with a married man?”

“Oh fuck you! I know where you’re going with this. Josh found me in a bar after we broke up and came on to me first. That’s on you having trashy friends.”

“You broke up his marriage, Violet! You messaged Sally after it happened with a photo of you two in bed! That’s fucked up!”

“I never claimed to be a saint and you knew I was fucked up from the get go. Sally deserved better than that jackass anyway. Takes two to tango, babe!”

“And what about Frankie and Leon? Hm?”

“Again, you have a garbage choice of friends. I can look up the messages they sent me after we broke up. They were basically begging me for sex. ‘Ooh Danny doesn’t need to know’. ‘Let me show you what a real man can do’. ‘I’ve wanted you since that bachelor party’”

“Shut up.”

“And now you’re here pulling some bullshit on another girl...” And then Violet paused when she realized. “You paid for sex tonight. You paid to sleep with me. Jesus, Danny. Did you pull this shit when we were together?”  

“No.”

“And why should I believe that?”

Danny quickly got up and started walking towards her. “Because, before you fucked every mate I had, I was a good guy. Then I got thinking about how if you can do that so easily, you probably were fucking every guy you danced for like the little slut you are.” He started and stopped intimidatingly close to her but Violet stayed completely still and looking up at him. “And then you ruined my best friend’s marriage after cutting yourself out of ours and I started drinking to forget how many men must have touched you while we were together and fuck, it drove me insane.” His voice raised. “Then I met this girl. She was pretty and nice and sweet and she took care of me. We started dating and it was going good but I’d still find myself in the strip club even though you didn’t work there anymore. I’d still pick up one of the dancers and fuck her in my car and then I’d go home, get a shower and get in to bed with my girlfriend. When she got a little suspicious of me being gone so much, I planned this quick engagement thing and acted like that’s what I’d been up to instead of having cheap sex with some skank.” He explained. “I never did that to you but that’s what you do, Violet. You fuck with people. You fuck with their heads and make them believe all these pretty little lies that you tell. You tornado your way in to people’s lives and you fuck them up and then you leave with all this mess behind you and everyone else has to pick up the pieces.”

Violet’s eyes narrowed. It felt like a blow to the chest but she definitely wasn’t going to show it. She kept her stance the entire time in front of him no matter how close he got or how in her face he got and when he seemed to pause long enough for her to actually think he was done, she spoke. “Okay, number one, I never cheated on you. You kept that little thought in your head because you were so jealous of guys watching me strip but I never did anything with them because I had something good at home.” The brunette told him sternly and pushed his chest slightly to make him start backing up which led to her taking a step forward. “Number two, you don’t get to blame me for you becoming a shitty human. I have been an escort to a lot of men looking for a thrill and cheating on their wives and I never thought you’d be one of them. This mess that you’re in, that’s not on me. That’s on you and your crappy life choices. You’re blaming me because you don’t want to feel the guilt of cheating but reality check, take responsibility for your actions.” She, once again, pushed him back and followed again until he was stood in front of the bed. “And number three, here’s your choices right now. You can be a decent human being and let me walk away right now and you go marry a girl and treat the poor sucker who fell in love with you right or we have sex right now, I leave after not breaching my contract, and you can go continue being a shitty human with a shitty life. Your choice, Danny.”  

Daniel looked down at her and took in a long inhale of breath as he weighed up his choices. Once he made up his choice, it became very apparent very quickly. His hands quickly grabbed her waist and crashed his lips against hers. Humans really are disappointing, aren’t they? It’s not that she wouldn’t have sex with him again – it was like riding a bike – but she really was just disappointed in him. He no longer resembled the man she once loved and that was the most heartbreaking part for her. She couldn’t even see a part of his former self there anymore. People change and sometimes not for the better. It wasn’t the first time Violet had been let down by someone. Even as Danny did whatever he wanted to her, she couldn’t help but think about how often she had been let down in her life. The most recent being that Caleb had left. He had said he would take care of her and help her and now here she was. None of this night would have happened if he’d just kept his word. The lesson Violet learnt, once again, was how people can let her down over and over again.

Once he was done, Violet didn’t hesitate. She did what was asked of her and threw back on her dress and walked to the door to leave. The brunette opened the door and turned back to him, laid in the bed. “Congratulations on the wedding, Danny. Hope it goes well for you...” And with that, she made her exit.

[emeraldxmonarch]

Amori Aetherium (pt. 17)

(Hey guys! Here’s chapter 17 haha! I really hope you guys enjoy it! I’m sorry for these huge ass gaps between chapters, life is still kicking my ass. But I hope the kinda long and kinda plot filled chapter makes up for it?  A HUGE thank you to @voice-addicted for her help editing and her ideas! She came up with a really big chunk of this chapter, and I couldn’t do this without her. <3 Enjoy guys! 

-SxW) 

~Previous chapter~                                                               ~Next Chapter~

Amara and Feyre both tensed up at the news and looked at each other wearily.

“Rhys, Helion was the one who called this meeting?”

“No, Beron did. But Helion apparently cut through the bullshit and called us all to the Day Court. Beron won’t be too happy,” he sighed softly and ran a hand through his hair.

“This should be fun” Feyre snorted dryly, and gently set the bags down before going to her mate’s side, who happily welcomed her into a hug.

Amara felt a bit awkward standing near the bags, and slowly began to shuffle herself out of the room after grabbing the bags that Feyre set down.

“Hey! I want to know what you two were laughing about when you first came in!” Mor quickly interjected before the two mates could get any action, and that piqued Rhys’ interest too.

“I’d like to know too, actually,” He softly nuzzled Feyre, who tried to bite back a laugh as she looked at Amara, who was thoroughly blushing.

“Well, it’s Amara’s story, not mine. She has to tell you” Three sets of eyes turned towards her, and she shied under their gazes “U-Umm... I don’t mind telling you but I don’t want to bore you..”

Feyre grinned widely, “The only people who would enjoy that story more than me, would be these two and Cassian. Especially because of who it is.”

Both Rhys and Mor were insanely curious now because of the vague way Feyre was describing the story, and Amara very slowly sat down at the edge of the couch by Mor, and was adjacent to Feyre and Rhys.

“If this doesn’t get her into everyone’s good graces, I don’t know what will”

“Should I be concerned?”

Feyre just grinned in response, and Amara slowly launched into her story, more hesitant than when she spoke with Feyre, but seeing the shock on their faces gave her slightly more confidence to add her former excitement to the story again.

Feyre couldn’t stop her laughter at the utter shock and pride on both of their faces as Amara narrated what she did.

She managed to get a few laughs out of Mor but only chuckles out of Rhys, but his undoing was when she described the head maid in Keir’s bed.

He laughed hard enough to make Feyre jolt in his lap.

And Amara’s answering grin was blinding.

Mor squeezed Amara’s arm, “So THAT’S why that old crone wasn’t in the meetings anymore! Cauldron boil me Amara, that’s fucking brilliant!” Amara laughed and hugged Mor’s arm in her genuine glee.

The surprise was clear, but so was the wide grin on her face.

“I wish I could show you what we saw! Words don’t do it justice”

“I need to know what your friend wrote in that letter to make that hag do that” Mor sighed dramatically, and Amara couldn’t hold back the blush.

“I had to practically shove Idelisa in the broom closet to keep her from doubling over right in front of Deoch... not that I was much better,” Amara couldn’t help but laugh again, her sides stitching from just how much she actually laughed today.

It felt so good.

Amara was practically glowing, and it felt as though that previous tension had all but completely vanished.

Rhys shook his head with a grin, “I’ll need to consult you next time I want to piss someone off Amara,” and she couldn’t help but grin widely, “It’ll be my pleasure”

Both Rhys and Feyre silently agreed: Her smile could definitely light up the room.

“But I do have a question” Mor turned towards Amara with a serious expression that made the girl straighten.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any more stories like that?”

Before she could answer, the sound of footsteps filled the room, as Cassian and Azriel both walked in, sweat soaked and shirtless and obviously spent.

“What did we miss?”

“The best damn story of your lives...is it necessary to walk around like that?”

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy the view Mor.”

“Fish are more interesting to watch than you two are.”

Amara couldn’t bite back her snort of laughter, as she ducked her head in embarrassment and Rhys didn’t bother to hide his loud laughter, only to get a balled up shirt thrown at his face.

His laughter instantly cut off as Cassian’s began, and Rhys grimaced as he pulled the shirt off. Even Azriel grinned at the duo as he pulled his own shirt back on.

The atmosphere was light and airy, and it felt as if no tension lied underneath.

It was something she savored with all of her heart.

“Amara?”

“Hmm?” She turned towards Feyre, who nodded towards the bags at her feet.

“How about we set that up in your room, while the boys have their little pissing contest?”

She choked on her laughter and snorted, quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment.

Mor giggled in return and stretched her arms, her silver bracelets softly clinking together at the action, “Let me come too. I’m tired of all of the testosterone in here.”

Feyre felt a very slight irritation at the intrusion but quickly pushed it down, not wanting to feel that way towards her friend.

But she couldn’t always fight her instincts. But she would damn well try.

Rhys was too busy quibbling with Cassian to notice the girls sneak away, but Az gave them a fleeting grin at they hurried up the stairs with which Mor returned with a conspiratorial wink.

                                                        ~

“Amara, you know, I was thinking back today and I remembered there was a time I actually spoke with you,” Mor casually commented as she set up various fae lights around her room.

Amara quickly glanced at her as she and Feyre played around with the few outfits she bought. “Really? Which time?”

“When I came to speak to Keir about the Darkbringer army.”

Amara’s mouth formed a soft “o” as she remembered, but then paled a bit, “I remember how terrifying you were when you asked for him...”

Mor stopped and looked at her, obviously a little surprised, “What? How? I was so nice when I asked you to bring that piece of shit out!”

Amara pouted at her, making Feyre grin, “You and I remember that very differently Mor...”

Mor rolled her eyes and continued to set up the soft lights at various corners and parts of the room.

It was beautiful honestly, the lights glinted soft, pastel colors that gave the room an almost rainbow-esque glow. Amara quietly looked around the room, the glow making the tightness in her chest ease up ever so slowly. 

It felt so peaceful. 

Both Feyre and Mor smiled at the look of awe on her face, and Mor decided to speak up.

“Was I really that scary?” She didn’t sound angry, but more..pleased.

“I always aimed for beautifully dangerous, not Amren frightening” Amara ended up giggling at the comparison. 

“You were... you all felt... terrifyingly powerful...” Amara shook her head softly, as both women turned towards her quietly, “Like you all were worlds above, and I still remember every single time I saw you all in Hewn City...the closest I got was when I was serving..” She softly trailed off, the person she was referring to clear in her words.

Feyre felt a twinge in her chest, as the unwanted notion rose higher and higher in her throat, the words threatening to spill out, but before they could, Mor spoke them first, 

“Were you in love with him?”

Both Feyre and Amara tensed up, Amara clearly cringing at the question, and Feyre suddenly found that she didn’t want to hear the answer. 

“...I thought I did...” Her voice was almost non-existent, “...I thought that would be the closest I would ever get to being loved.... despite... despite my name, my status... I felt lucky... there were several servant girls much more beautiful than I but he still chose me...” She felt the silver lining her eyes in heavier and heavier waves the more she spoke. 

Mor quietly took a seat next to her, and took her hand, “Amara... that city does nothing but smother any and all light that is in it... and you’re free from that... you’re free...”

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it.” She couldn’t stop the confession, the words that spilled out from her very chest and Feyre’s heart tightening in pain. 

Mor looked her straight in the eyes while she spoke, “Do you know why I don’t stand at my father’s side anymore, Amara?” Both women glanced at her, one in sad understanding, and one in confusion.

“Isn’t it because you serve in the Inner Circle...?”

“You’re partially right. But the reason I serve in the Inner Circle is because of what that Court did to me” 

Amara watched her carefully, trying to piece together what Mor was slowly beginning to admit. 

“You see, I was betrothed.” Her eyes widened, but Mor had a distant look in her eyes as she spoke, 

“To Eris. Of Autumn Court. No matter how I begged and pleaded, no one would listen to me, so I wrenched my own freedom back” She was speechless, so the rumors were true...

“I bedded Cassian, who at that time, was considered to be an Illyrian bastard... and because of it, Eris broke off his engagement with me, claiming he wanted nothing to do with a whore. So my family” the word was full of spite, “beat me, and left me at Autumn’s border with a note for them nailed into my be-”

Amara practically threw herself at Mor, openly sobbing as she clung to the golden haired female. 

Mor quickly caught her, snapping out of her memories in a slight daze as the slight girl cried into her shoulder. Even Feyre was slightly teary eyed and surprised as Amara let out sob after sob.

Mor donned a slightly sad smile, as she carefully rubbed her back, “Please don’t cry... Amara, I’m free... and so are you... we’re out and we’re free and as light as the stars above us... all of us are... you’ll have your good days and your bad... but remember that... and don’t let the bad days win” 

Feyre gently took Mor’s free hand and squeezed it tightly, who sent her a gentle smile in return, as they let Amara cry. Somehow, it felt like they both got lighter, at having someone else cry for their pain. 

For her pain. 

                                                           ~

Rhys sighed as he sprawled out on the couch, both Cassian and Azriel laying in the armchairs next to him, the atmosphere considerably light despite the news daunting all of them.

“Rhys?” Cassian sighed softly.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think this meeting is actually about?” 

Rhys sighed deeply, as Az paid close attention to both of his brothers, his shadows almost lazily extending and spiraling around his legs.

“I wish I could say it for sure, but I have a feeling it’s about us”

“I can try to find out for sure” Az volunteered quietly, running a hand through his short black hair as Rhys let his head fall back against the arm rest of the couch.

“I’m tempted. I’m very tempted... if this IS about us... then Amara” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he still internally flinched when he said even a part of her name, “will have to go, and I don’t know how that’ll go”

“We’ll be there to keep her safe Rhys. She’s still your mate” Cassian sat up a bit more, as well as Azriel, both of them again showing just how loyal they were, and Rhys felt gratitude swell in his chest at it.

“As much as I appreciate that, I don’t think they’ll try to kill her at sight” He tried to push some joking tone into his voice, but the worry was still apparent.

None of them knew how the other High Lords would react. Rhys couldn’t count on Helion for any help and while he understood why, it still made him uneasy. 

The three of them knew too much about Helion, he would’ve known better than to turn on them.

“Maybe the meeting is something else entirely” Azriel sighed softly, trying to rack his brain for any sort of information that would warrant a High Lord meeting. 

“I can only hope. But the only way to find out for sure, is to go out and see” Rhys shook his head in irritation. 

“You mean..” Both Illyrians leaned closer to their High Lord. 

“Yes, go to Helion and ask him straightforward. I can’t risk the sudden exposure, especially since the bond isn’t... official.” 

“I think we should discuss this before coming to a decision ourselves.” Az pointed out, and the others nodded with a soft sigh.  

“Let’s call them down then, shall we?”

                                                           ~

Amara hiccuped and slowly pulled away from the two women’s embrace, a bit embarrassed to have cried so openly, but before she could utter anything close to an apology, there was a soft knock on her door. 

Azriel nodded his head in greeting, as all three women looked at him.

“Could you come downstairs? There’s something we all need to discuss”

They looked at each other, before Feyre sighed softly. “Well, let’s see what’s going on now.”

                                                           ~

Rhys and Cassian were in the same positions as before, and Mor plopped down in Azriel’s now vacant seat he leaned against her armchair.  Feyre easily sprawled out next to Rhys, and Amara glanced around for a few seconds before quietly standing near the window, close enough to be addressed, but far enough to issue respect to their own conversation. 

“We’ve been talking about the meeting and why Helion would suddenly take it over” Rhys started out, making Feyre look at him from the crook of his shoulder.  

“And?”

“And the only way to find out for sure is to go talk to him directly” 

This made all three females in the room tense up and look at him. 

“Are you insane? Do you have any idea how accusatory that would sound?” Mor immediately voiced her disapproval, and even Feyre gave him a startled glance.

“She’s right... especially after...” Rhys got the hint and sighed deeply, the sound coming from his very bones.

“Do you want to risk getting exposed? With an unofficial mate who has no way of defending herself against six High Lords?”

“You sound as if you expect them all to attack her on sight!” The irritation was growing in her voice. 

Amara cringed as they spoke of her as though she weren’t right there, but they were right. She was nothing but a burden on them, and if this meeting was about the emergence of the bond, then she would be the reason they might be in danger. 

Her thoughts spiraled down further and further, but was quickly interrupted by a clear “Hey!” 

It was Cassian who interrupted his bickering High Lord and Lady. 

“Yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything right now.... Quit giving me that look, I know when to cut the shit unlike you two” Mor couldn’t hold back the snort as he said that, and that seemed to cut the tension a bit. 

Feyre shook her head, and Mor ran a hand through her hair, “We’re not getting anywhere with this.” And there was a soft murmur of agreement. 

“Going to Helion is too dangerous though, Rhys. You have no idea how he’ll react. It could blow up in our face.”

“So could this meeting.”

“Then let me do the scouting.” Az’s voice cut through the conversation and all heads turned to him.

“This is my job”

“We don’t usually spy on other High Lords, Az” Mor interjected. 

“She’s right. This is something too risky. If you’re caught- Not that I’m saying you will-” Rhys quickly added, seeing the indignation flash on the Spymaster’s face, “It’s just something we can’t risk, considering who and what we’re dealing with. At least if we go upfront, we’ll have the cover of an honest conversation on our side.” 

“Or you could risk pissing him off and blowing the entire thing right up. Before the meeting” Feyre groaned, and leaned away from Rhys, finding him to be less than appealing at the moment. 

Amara bit back a large sigh at the standstill that had occurred and watched the group sadly. She didn’t have any better solution to offer, but felt like it was too dangerous to just go and confront Helion... after what they knew about him, she didn’t believe he would risk it. 

But then again, she never knew what would go through a High Lord’s mind. 

“Amara” She jumped softly at the sound of her name, and turned towards the person who called it.

“Y-Yes Rhysand?” She still stuttered when saying his name, feeling as though she was stepping over a line. 

He gave a slightly weary grin, “We’ve been talking as though this doesn’t involve you. I’m sorry. You’ve been listening to us claw each other’s throats out, you obviously should have some sort of opinion on this.”

All eyes turned towards her, and she bit her lip in nervousness, “W-Well... all things considered... it might be a bad idea to confront High Lord Helion... because of... well...-”

“What is this thing that you all have over Helion?!” Mor suddenly burst out, and Amara tensed harshly, silently cursing herself for even bringing it up.

“You all have been hinting towards how Helion wouldn’t dare reveal this but don’t say why! What are you hiding from us?”

At this point, Cassian was sitting stock straight in his seat, and Azriel was standing instead of leaning with Mor angrily crossing her arms in her seat, and Rhys shook his head.

“Nothing that concerns you right now” His voice was firm and commanding, the High Lord persona slipping into place briefly. 

This caused his Cousin and both brothers to stiffen in their places.

“You don’t trust us” There was an undertone of hurt in Cassian’s voice that made Rhys tense in his place, with Feyre wide eyed and tongue tied next to him.

“You know damn well that isn’t it. It’s something that can’t be explained in a few words, and right now, we have something slightly bigger to deal with!” 

The tension was almost suffocating, and they all flinched when there was a sudden knock on the door. Amara hesitated, and after glancing at Rhys, who gave an almost imperceptible nod, did she go and answer the door. 

There stood Lucien, Elain and Nesta. Amara tried to pull up a weak smile as she bowed slightly and let them in. Upon entering, Lucien gave a confused look around the room, obviously feeling the tension.

“Did we all interrupt something?”

Rhys sighed and shook his head, “No, of course not. We’re the ones who asked you over. We’re all just tense because of the meeting”

Feyre rubbed the back of her neck as she walked over to her sisters, gently taking their hands and softly squeezing them.

“Is everything alright?” Elain softly questioned, seeing the shadows loom on all of their faces.

“It will be when this damned meeting is over” Cassian stretched out and let his wings extend a bit before closing back in, relaxing ever so slightly afterwards. 

He walked over to where Nesta was standing, and met her eyes. Even Feyre knew to gently let go and move. 

Their gazes met, smoldering and silent, a world’s worth of conversation passed between them in the span of seconds. And when their gazes broke, Cassian wrapped a gentle arm around her slim frame, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before gently leading her into the kitchen. 

Both Elain and Feyre grinned at each other in secret glee, before Feyre followed with Rhys at her arm. 

“My Lady?” Lucien softly offered his arm to Elain, who smiled at him gently and gently followed her sisters with him. 

Mor laid a hand on the small of Amara’s back, and gently motioned towards the table, and quietly they made their way to their seats, Azriel not far behind. 

The world could wait one more evening. 

One more dinner.

They would tackle it soon after.